#also sorry for never drawing iris with her bow hair

[lemon-wedges]

OUT OF THE WAY!!!! Professional Barok Van Zieks hecklers coming thru 

[dibidibifiction]

Criminal In My Mind: Chapter 4

Warning: foul language

Pairing: Choi Minho x Reader Word count: 1.6k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist Chapter 3

MINHO

I tend to check up on Taemin every time I see him on campus ever since he got beaten up a week ago. So far, nobody has been following him anymore. My shift at the café has just ended and now, I’m cleaning myself up a little bit for our Landscape Photography class at three, which is in twenty minutes. 

So I hurry up, grab my backpack, bow to Manager Jinki goodbye, and head out the glass doors.

I’ve been studying at this school for over a year now and no one has attempted to befriend me but Taemin. He’s the only one who bothers to ask me to hang out with him and his friends, yet I always ignored him. This may sound cheesy but I kind of appreciate him that way. I don’t know why I’m just realizing this now.

I’m just walking to class when suddenly, I feel a cold breeze touch my skin, chills down my spine follows. A man from afar reveals himself right before my eyes, wearing the hood of his jacket over his head. 

I stop abruptly. Why is he staring at me? I’m starting to sweat and my heart decides to beat faster than it should, as if telling me to panic. 

I attempt to run the other way but I bump into Taemin. He seems frightened. Was he walking behind me all this time?

“Minho Hyung,” his eyes widen. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“Let’s go to class together.”

I fake a smile and glance back at the spot where I saw the familiar presence, but he’s gone.

. . .

I managed to come through during class since I have a growing passion for photography. It kind of distracted me from what I encountered earlier. 

What I love most about photography is that it’s instantly still with just a click of a button on the camera. You can edit things the way you want it and create something else out of them. But something about its steadiness gets to me and calms me down. I hadn’t known that I had this love for it until I finished high school since I lived my life unhappy and meaningless. I always thought it was too late to find my passion but if it wasn’t for my mother, I’d be wanting to kill myself today.

Now that class is over, I’m back to my fear. I swear I saw him die. Was that really him? How did he find me? How long has he been following me?

I step out of the building when Taemin calls out to me, running.

“Hyung!” He catches up. “Do you have class after this?”

“Yeah, Art History in about half an hour,” I answer him, trying to hide my sinking soul at the moment.

“Oh, okay. Do you have some time later to work on our assignment? I picked you as my partner,” he informs me, smiling.

I stare at him blankly. I must have missed something since I have no idea what he’s talking about. My thoughts are running in circles right now.

“Hyung?” 

“Oh,” I come to my senses. “Yes, sure. Come by my apartment tonight at eight. I’ll text you the address.”

“Great. I’ll buy us dinner,” he says, then runs towards his friends gathered around by the grass. 

. . . 

It’s all coming back to me at the same time. The huge dark room full of barrels, the echoing cries, all the drilling, guns firing. 

And the girl. I don’t remember her face, but what I do remember is her eyes. Her wide brown eyes always twinkled with tears. Her left iris had a distinct but subtle little white spot. I tried to look for her days after I lost her that night but she’s nowhere to be found. I just hope she’s alive and well to this day. It's a shame I didn’t get her name.

I jump awake from my deep thoughts when something thuds to the floor. It’s a book that was in Taemin’s hands. He's already fallen asleep on the couch. 

I turn to my wall clock and it’s already one in the morning. How long have we been working?

I decided to go out and buy drinks from the convenience store nearby. When I’m about to reach for my jacket on the armrest, Taemin shakes awake.

“What time is it?” he asks as he yawns, wiping drool off his chin.

“Ten past one. I’m going to the store. Do you want anything?”

“I’ll go with you. I don’t know what I want but I’m kinda hungry,” he says as he gets up and puts on his college hoodie.

So we go down from the apartment and walk to the nearest little grocery store which is just two minutes away. 

“How long have you known Y/n?” I ask Taemin, hoping to sound casual.

“She started working at my dad’s flower shop about three years ago. I was still in high school then and she was about to graduate college. My dad and I never met anyone before who is as passionate about flowers as she is. She reminds me a lot of my mom. The shop was originally hers, but then she died of ovarian cancer when I was eleven.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry,” I sympathize.

“It’s okay. We’re lucky to have found Y/n Noona. Aside from handling the shop for us, she has been the big sister I never ha- Holy shit, speak of the devil!” His jaw drops as soon as he sees something ahead.

I follow his eye direction and to my surprise, there is Y/n walking wobbly toward our way, the high heels of her shoes almost twist her ankles. Is she drunk? Where did she come from? And why is she alone at this hour?

Taemin runs to her and grabs her when she almost falls forward. “Noona, you’re drunk again. Are you with someone?” he says, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, there’s my little Taemin!” she shouts despite their close distance. “When did you get so strong and handsome and all grown up?”

Taemin can’t contain his laughter now. He looks my way and mouths, Watch this. “Noona, wanna come home with me?” he says to her with a matching wink.

“Fuck no! Are you out of your mind?” She pulls him away. “I’m saving myself for someone special now. Someone worth my time. Do you have any idea how many guys I’ve dated? None of them came through for me and I’m sick of it! None of them even cared about how I felt,” she starts weeping.

I can’t help but chortle at the cute sound of her cry.

Taemin frowns. “That’s weird, she usually answers that question differently.”

“Hey, Y/n!” a charming guy with short-to-the-roots bleach blonde hair rushes toward her and hits her at the back of the head. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You got me fucking worried!” He looks out of breath.

“Kibum Hyung!” Taemin exclaims. They all seem to know each other. We’re currently in my neighborhood but I feel like the outsider.

Y/n flinches as she scratches her head at the spot where she got hit. 

“Are you okay?” I ask her in concern. 

She catches my eye and giggles. She slowly draws nearer toward me, then wraps her tiny arms around my neck so she can stand straight. 

“I might be dreaming but I think I finally found you,” she whispers as her face gets an inch closer to mine.

I swallow as my heart begins to skip a beat. I’d stare back into her eyes but they’re almost shut. Something about her scent mixed in with soju is pleasurably intoxicating. 

Before I know it, she leans in and softly touches her lips onto mine. Without a thought, I’m kissing her back after two seconds when she starts to open her mouth slightly as her tongue reaches out to mine. I suddenly feel goosebumps throughout my arms. My knees weaken and sweat starts to form on my scalp. My hands turn into fists for getting this urge to hold onto her waist but, for some reason, I can’t. I'm frozen.

At some point, she falls sideways to the ground but I come to my senses and somehow catch her.

I did not expect this at all.

. . .

I went to work at six this morning to open the café for the day. I usually almost never have a smile on my face when I wake up because I don’t really like waking up so early. But today, I can’t help but find myself jumpy and smiley. 

It is now half-past nine and customers have come in and left, minding their own perspective moments under the sun. 

The chime of the entrance catches my attention as I watch Kibum walk in. Even though he is still in his home wear and hungover, he still manages to look good. Maybe he has a natural talent for staying a gorgeous man no matter what state he’s in. With his gray shorts, plain white hoodie, and a pair of gold aviator glasses. 

He approaches the counter and sees me, “Oh, hey, it’s you. I didn’t know you work here.”

“Yeah, I do. I just started last week,” I smile back. “So what can I get you?”

“Hot low-fat latté and iced black coffee. Y/n’s coming in later. She’s still in bed moaning like a grandma,” he chuckles.

“Oh, right,” I nod. “How is she doing?”

“She’ll be fine. She’s always been like that when she drinks too much.”

“Good to know,” I am relieved to know. “Go on, have a seat and I’ll get your drinks ready.”

Chapter 5

[thedarklordmegatron]

Fear

I can finally share one of my pieces for the Fleurentia Zine and of course, I'm going to share the angsty one first~ 

But then again Fleurentia/Ravnis is a naturally angsty ship anyway. 

Enjoy the sadness my friends~

Also available on my AO3 - archiveofourown.org/works/21503425 (Sorry it’s not a link but Tumblr doesn’t like those anymore D:)

--

Ship: Ignis Scientia/Ravus Nox Fleuret

Rating: T

Summary:

It started with little black tendrils snaking out from beneath the edges of his Magitek arm. Tiny little things that had he not been inspecting the joint, as he often did, would have gone otherwise unnoticed. As soon as his eyes fell upon them he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

There was no mistaking them for what they were, the beginnings of the Starscourge.

As a boy, Ravus imagined that he would die an old man surrounded by those he loved and happy with the love he had lived. Not once had he considered that at the age of thirty he would find out that he was dying.

It started with little black tendrils snaking out from beneath the edges of his Magitek arm. Tiny little things that had he not been inspecting the joint, as he often did, would have gone otherwise unnoticed. As soon as his eyes fell upon them he froze, his breath catching in his throat. There was no mistaking them for what they were, the beginnings of the Starscourge. He had seen enough people in the various stages of Daemonification in his lifetime to know that once the Scourge became visible to the naked eye, and without the immediate intervention of the Oracle, there was no saving the infected party. Indeed, it was generally considered kinder to simply put them out of their misery before the disease had a chance to eat away at their mind and body.

Sighing heavily, Ravus braced his forearms on the edge of the sink and let his head fall forward.

In retrospect, he should have removed the damned thing the second he discovered Ardyn’s identity as the Adagium, perhaps earlier considering the man’s predisposition to causing chaos and misery wherever he went. It did, after all, make sense that the very embodiment of the Starscourge would find a way to kill off the last of the Oracle’s line without initially drawing attention to himself. Unfortunately, with everything else going on, he had never once considered that the arm might be infected. 

An oversight that was now killing him.

Running his human fingers through his hair, Ravus moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Two options laid before him. One, he could come clean to Ignis and their friends, tell them the truth and try to live a normal life, well, as normal as one’s life could be in a world without the sun and a fatal disease running through your veins. Or two, he could keep it a secret. Ensure that no one but himself would know the truth until it was too late. Certainly not the best option, especially not when Ignis already suspected him of keeping secrets in regards to his health. 

No, he would have to tell Ignis the truth. But first, he was going to have to come to terms with the realisation that he was dying.

Yay.

----

Three weeks after he had first discovered the truth about his failing health, Ravus collapsed. 

Following the sun’s disappearance the sudden influx of refugees and hunters to Lestallum, Gladiolus had been quite insistent that Iris should not be allowed to wander around unaccompanied, at least until her eighteenth birthday or the Marshal deemed her self-defence skills sufficient enough. With both himself and Prompto otherwise occupied in the movement of refugee caravans, and Ignis having taken it upon himself to deal with the bureaucracy of a ‘post-apocalyptic world’, as Prompto liked to call it, Gladiolus had reluctantly chosen Ravus as Iris’ protector. Because apparently, he was a better option than leaving the daughter of one of the most fearsome men in Lucis to her own devices. 

Would wonders never cease?

It was on one such excursion that Ravus found himself lying in a puddle, his entire body seized up in agony whilst Iris knelt beside him, her hands on his shoulders, crying out for help. Had his head not felt as though it might implode, he would have been quite mortified about his state and the numerous concerned people who had gathered around them. As it was, it took all of his self-restraint to swallow the moan of pain that was attempting to make itself known.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he laid there, only that after what felt like a lifetime, familiar fingers touched his face and neck before two brutishly large hands tucked themselves beneath his body and ever so slowly rolled him onto his back. The sudden movement, despite its slow speed, sent a jolt of pain down his spine and through his head and this time he could not swallow the pained groan that escaped his lips. 

“No visible wounds,” Ignis commented as his face was finally freed from the cold water he’d been laying in.

“That’s something at least,”  A voice he recognised as belonging to Marshal Leonis muttered as Ravus was finally settled on his back, out of the puddle. Blinking slowly, Ravus stared up at the faces hovering over his, focusing on Ignis as someone, most likely Cor, propped his legs up on what had to have been a jacket or two.

“Hello darling,” Ignis said softly, running his fingers through Ravus’ hair “How are you feeling?” 

“M’fine,” The roughness of his own voice had Ravus wincing. 

“Fine men don’t collapse in the middle of the street,” Cor interjected as he moved into view. 

“I’m afraid I must agree with the Marshal on this one,” Sighing Ravus closed his eyes and lent into the hand that had migrated from his hair to his cheek. 

“Ah ah, eyes open kid.” The order was accompanied by the clicking of fingers and a light pat to the other side of his face.

Ravus cleared his throat before opening his eyes once again and levelling the Marshal with as strong a glare as he could muster in his weakened state. “I am not a child.”

“Let’s not have a fight in the middle of the street,” Ignis said before Cor had a chance to reply,  leaning in to press a kiss to Ravus’ forehead. “If you do want to argue about ages, would you mind waiting until we are indoors, dry and warm?” Gods that sounded delightful. Without the sun it was almost permanently cold, and the water currently covering the entire left side of his body was doing absolutely nothing to help. Then again, neither was the Scourge but he had at least attempted to counter that by wearing more layers than normal, or at least as many as he could get away with without raising suspicion. 

Once again Cor’s hands found their way beneath his armpits, only this time Ravus was absolutely certain that he was going to empty the contents of his stomach over the man’s body.

“Stop, stop, stop-” He begged, bowing his head and clenching his eyes shut as he attempted to regain his bearings and stop the world from spinning. The whole situation was humiliating enough as it was, he refused to let his body embarrass him any further. Thankfully Cor paused immediately, giving him a minute or two to regain control of his body before Ignis joined them in helping him to his feet.

When he finally felt less like death and more like himself again, Ravus nodded and allowed Ignis to continue supporting him when Cor moved away. 

“Take it easy,” Cor ordered “Get some rest, both of you. I’ll take Iris home.” 

Ah, yes, Iris, he’d almost forgotten about her. Peering around the Marshal Ravus inclined his head ever so slightly, not quite trusting his body to remain on his side should he try and nod fully. “Thank you for your help, I am most grateful.” She gave him a small smile in return.

“Yes, thank you Iris,” Ignis added with a small smile of his own, readjusting his grip on Ravus. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

----

Never let it be said that Ravus couldn’t appreciate the wonders of modern plumbing. There really was nothing better than being able to stand beneath a continuous stream of warm water with one’s partner. Unfortunately, he only remembered that he’d been actively avoiding sharing a shower with Ignis for the past month once he was already naked and standing in said shower. The moment his shirt was off and unceremoniously thrown aside, Ignis’ face became devoid of any emotion, a hand coming up to touch his right shoulder.

“How long?” Ignis questioned softly, his voice deceptively calm.

Sighing Ravus dropped his head back against the tiles, allowing the water to continue soaking his body. “Three weeks.” He admitted, angling the showerhead away from Ignis and over himself entirely. 

“And I presume this is the cause of your collapse earlier?” 

“Most probably,” He answered, “I didn’t want to worry you.” The second the words left his mouth he wished they hadn’t. Ignis’ head snapped up, his eyes burning with silent fury.

“You didn’t want to worry me?” He repeated, voice eerily calm. “You did not want to worry me so you kept your illness a secret. An illness that had you collapsing in the middle of the street.” Okay, so perhaps keeping the infection a secret hadn’t been one of his better ideas, especially not when he had likely terrified those around him in the process.

“You have enough to worry about.” The sight of Ignis’ face contorting in rage had him raising a hand, “Please, let me explain.” At Ignis’ reluctant nod he continued “I am terrified Ignis. This,” He motioned to the black tendrils that covered a good portion of his upper body. “Is going to kill me. There is no curing it and we both know what the Starscourge does to its victims.” Ravus paused “I thought that if I kept it a secret, that if I didn’t openly admit to being contaminated then I could pretend, if only for a short while, that it wasn’t true.” The rage faded from Ignis’ face as he spoke, being replaced by an emotion he struggled to identify. “You have enough to worry about between Noctis’ disappearance and the influx of refugees. I didn’t want to place another burden upon your shoulders.”

“Ravus,” Ignis said firmly, taking a step closer, inadvertently stepping into the shower despite his fully dressed state to grab his face “You are not, and never will be a burden. Not to me.” 

“I am going to die,” Ravus choked out after a few moments of silence, “I wanted to spare you the pain of that for as long as possible.”

“I do not want to be spared the pain Ravus, not when it means spending hours locked away in meetings when I  could be spending them with you.” 

“I would not ask-”

Ignis’ hand covered his mouth “You are not asking anything of me Ravus Nox Fleuret.” He stated, moving the hand covering his mouth to his jaw, the other coming up to rest over the infected joint. “I am telling you that I would rather tell the world to leave me alone and survive without me for a while, so that I may spend as many hours as is physically possible with the man I love more than anything in this world.” And while Ravus knew that last statement to be false, Noctis was and always would be the most important thing in Ignis’ life, he couldn’t prevent the singular tear from escaping. “I only wish that you had told me sooner so I could have supported you.” 

Chuckling mirthlessly Ravus smiled at him “We have enjoyed this last year though, have we not?” 

“We have.” Was Ignis’ quiet response. 

“All things come to an end Ignis,” Ravus began with a shake of his head “I am just sorry that I will be leaving you behind far earlier than I intended.”  The tears in Ignis’ eyes only served to break his own heart further. 

“I’m fairly certain you promised that I would not have to lose anyone else I hold dear.” 

“Another promise I am afraid I cannot keep.” Bowing his head, Ravus worried his lower lip.

“Ravus,” The declaration of his name was followed by a choked off sound as Ignis threw his arms around him. 

“When the time comes,” Ravus whispered, “If you cannot bring yourself to end it, please, have someone else do it. I do not want to become one of those things," he spat. 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat and desperately fighting to hold back his tears, Ignis nodded, leaning in to kiss him. “I would not let you.” Ignis knew he would not be strong enough to be the one to end it; that in reality, Cor would likely be the one to strike the final blow and yet he could not bring himself to say otherwise. “I promise.” 

Ravus’ almost inaudible ‘Thank you’ is what finally brought them both to tears. 

[fortey]

Kyoku’s Dance

The sun hadn’t risen yet, and most of the other guards were snoring loudly.  A noise that turned out to be Senya talking in his sleep woke me.  I almost cut his head off before I realized what it was.  I’m starting to think maybe I shouldn’t sleep with a murasame in my hands anymore.  Better safe than sorry, I suppose.

           Leaving the guard quarters silently I notice that Maki, the night watch, is also sleeping.  He boasts more about being a great warrior than the greenest rookie, yet here he is, sleeping.  Probably thinks as the others do; the enemy is all but defeated, they will not attack. That is fool talk.  My last count had three enemy ninja unaccounted for within the Nuriko Mountains, and they may have more garrisons I have not seen.  It only took one to eliminate the Shogun and his entire honor guard.  Thirty-five men slain.  These fools don’t even care.  None of them have even seen the enemy face to face.  They fight the Nagaaki clan, from the north, allies of our enemy.  I have seen the enemy.  I have killed the enemy.  When they come, they will come for me, and I will dance with them again.

           Using a shuriken, I cut Maki’s belt without disturbing him.  Lord Akobe will wake him in the morning.  Maki will gather himself quickly to bow and lose his breeches.  I hope I don’t give myself away by laughing too hard.

           Leaving Maki behind I exit the guard barracks through the rear door and breathe in the crisp, salty air.  I had never seen the ocean before this, in all my years.  Part of me was actually glad to be transferred here, despite the stories I had heard.  The scenery was beautiful, my old teacher told me, but the men here were lazy and the enemy had a major outpost under construction just beyond the mountains. He was right, except about the outpost. It wasn’t under construction; it was already built.  I am the only person that I know of who has been there and escaped.  That is why the enemy presses on with such force against us. They do not let anyone escape. They will return for me, despite what the others say.  I know it.

           The men here, even Lord Akobe, look at me strangely because of it.  I have seen them, was captured by them, and lived to tell the tale.  A woman doing this, when so many men could not.  That is not the way it is supposed to be. They do not say it to me, but they think I should be dead.  If no one else escapes, why did I?  I tell them I was lucky, which is untrue.  Luck had little to do with it.  I am not one who dies easily.

           Several times I have tried to train the men here, teach them the ways of my clan, the Shiori Dok, but they do not listen. Senya tries, but he does not truly understand.  He is too rambunctious and undisciplined, too young.  I think he is only trying to impress me, as so many here have tried. I was some kind of legend before I even arrived.  People told me stories about myself when I got here, about many fantastic feats that no human could do but somehow I did. When I deny the rumors, it only breeds more.  They follow me around because they think I have the gods’ luck. The enemy will not harm them with me around. I think the opposite.  I know the enemy wants me back and they will go through anyone to get me.  I have told Lord Akobe this; he dismisses it.  I almost pity him.  He is the Lord here, the enemy will make a point of having his head when they show.

           “Kyoku?  Is something wrong?”  I recognize the voice and stop any outward reaction of being surprised.  Turning, I see Senya rubbing his eyes with one hand and scratching his backside with the other.  He doesn’t even have his sword belt on.  My clansmen would be disgusted.  Most would have drawn their sword by now and given Senya a token scar to remind him of his foolishness.  I must be getting soft.

           “I am waiting,”  I say.  Senya gives me that look that says he doesn’t believe.  I have seen it many times and it no longer bothers me.

           “Lord Akobe assured us that the demons will not return.  All the southern clans have closed in on them.  You should take this time to relax before your clan finds another war to send you to.”  I try not laugh at him.  He speaks to me as though I were one of the Craven, a coward who runs from war.  My clan is the clan of war; our purpose is the dance of battle.  I fear the boredom of Senya’s life more than any battle.

           “All bodies are not accounted for.  The enemy will return.  They want me back.”

           “Are you really so valuable?”  he asks, mocking but in jest.

           “You don’t understand.  I didn’t understand until I saw them.”

           “Then explain it, why don’t you?”  he says, approaching me.  I shake my head and look back at the ocean.  Vibrant colors light the horizon as the sun slowly rises.  I hope I get to see this again sometime. My people reserve little time for simple pleasures.  The pleasure of war is usually enough, but sometimes I wish for more. Perhaps someday, if there is no war left for me to fight.

           “Lord Akobe will be coming soon from Shido city. Make yourself presentable.”  He hears the command in my voice and leaves quickly.  Lord Akobe had warned me twice against ordering his soldiers. It is not my place, but he warns gently.  He fears me. I could have this whole clan under my control if I wanted to, and he knows it.  Lucky for him I have no use for them.

           Turning my head, I notice a shift in the wind, bringing a new smell to my nose, something sour and old.  Decayed.  The smell the demons bring with them.  They are not human, not anymore.  And they are close by.

           My hand twitches at my side, toward the exposed hilt in my scabbard, and a movement catches my eye from the barracks entrance. I parry left and catch a glimpse of the thing standing there, grinning at me from behind its blade. The eyes are dead and unmoving, one of them is off kilter, looking down and to the right.  I recognize the gold and grey flecks of color throughout the dark iris. I see the same eyes reflected in my own blade, my eyes.  The eyes of my brother.  I did not think I would ever have to dance with him; he was my first teacher, but he is one of them now.  This should be interesting.

           He lunges at me in a hasty manner, quite unlike the brother I knew.  He would never be so clumsy.  Of course, in those days, he was still alive.  This thing has been dead a long while.  Its flesh is a strange shade of pale purple, and I can see a hole in its chest.  My brother was killed by the enemy and brought back by them, to fight at their side.  That is why their numbers do not decrease, the dead are added to their ranks.

           I sidestep his feeble attack easily, lashing out with my own sword and removing his left arm.  It doesn’t seem to phase him.  He simply turns on me and attacks again.  Whatever evil force drives him, it aims to take my life at any cost. I cannot let that happen.  This time, I remove his head.

             Distantly, I hear the alarm gong.  It must have been sounding for some time now, I just did not notice. The enemy must have attacked the rest of the base as well.  They may have been entirely comprised of my clansmen.  If they were, I suspect I am the only survivor.  Even if the rest were as sluggish as my brother, these men cannot compete.

           I enter the barracks quickly, running through the corridors looking for a fight.  I hear distant sounds of battle, but none close.  The gong has stopped.  I approach the guard quarters and slow.  A figure in the hall stops me.  It is Maki, lying against the wall.  He never even unleashed his blade from the look of him.  Blood flows from the wound in his chest.

           The door to the quarters is open.  Bodies are scattered about, piled on top of one another, some with weapons drawn, but not many.  Senya lies next to the open door, his throat slit, a surprised look on his face. There is dark blood on his sword blade. At least he wounded his attackers.

           A sound draws my attention and I turn.  One of the devils stands at the end of the hall behind me, one of my clansmen.  He is not as rotted as my brother had been.  I take a step forward and the devil is joined by another, then another.  Soon the hall is full of them, at least fifty, all smiling their dead smiles, glassy eyes focused solely on me. I was their target from the beginning.  None of them utters as word as they approach me.  They will not have me without a fight.

           I run to meet them, my sword dances its own dance as I avoid the attacking blades, slicing and piercing dead flesh. The first dozen fall quickly, but not quick enough.  More devils come, forcing me back.  I cannot fight them all, I know, but I will not submit.

           Suddenly my father is before me, the greatest warrior I have ever known, his katana blade flashing like lightning as he attacks. I dishonor myself by letting out a cry of despair as he strips the murasame from my grip, ending my fight. His dead mouth pulls back into a wider smile as I lower my head, ready for the death blow.  It does not come.

           Dead hands take hold of my arms and legs.  A rope is tied about me, binding me tightly and a soiled cloth is tied over my eyes.  More cold hands take hold of me and lift me up.  I struggle briefly, then something crunches into my skull and all goes black.

           “Wake up, my dear.  You are needed.”  My head is pounding and I am not sure if the voice I hear is real or not.  Whichever it is, neither is good.  “Wake or you will die now.”  The voice is not one I recognize, it is female, and she speaks strangely.  Her accent suggests one who is used to the old tongue.  I lift my head and open my eyes, light and shadow swarms before me in dizzying patterns.  I take a deep breath and my eyes manage to adjust.

           I do not recognize my surroundings.  It is a dungeon, that much is obvious.  Cold stone, dripping water, torch light. Shackles line the walls, I am fixed in a pair at the wrists, hanging nearly a foot from the ground.  I have been stripped of my clothes.  I see the one who addresses me standing not far off. She is young and has very pale skin, contrasting her night black hair and eyes.  Two of the devils stand with her, one was my father, the other was Senya. The woman smiles at me.  

           “Glad to see you listen well.  My name is Ky-Lin.  I believe I know you, but not your name,” she says, tilting her head curiously.

           “Kyoku, of the Shiori Dok,” I say.  The woman’s full lips part into an ecstatic smile and she claps her hands like a child.

           “How glorious! You are the very last of your kind you know.  The Shiori Dok put up a fight the likes of which I have never seen, they were magnificent. And you, Kyoku, the last of your kind, the only to have ever escaped my stronghold, you are the most magnificent of all.  You will be my prize, the greatest of my warriors, if only you will join my army.” Her smile becomes curious again, asking the question.  I consider spitting in her face, but decide against it.

           “You have killed my clan and my family.  I have failed in my duty.  I am a warrior no longer, least of all for you.  It is better to die,” I say.  There is no doubt in my mind that my wish will be granted. Ky-Lin smiles at me and takes the dagger from Senya’s blood stained belt.  A thought occurs to me.  I have no choices.  Her army is the dead.  When she kills me, I will surely be stripped of my soul, and my will.  I will be one of them.  An abomination.  I begin screaming long before the dagger slices my throat.  With my dying breath I curse her and she laughs.  Slowly, everything becomes black again.

              The road is quiet.  The woods are quiet.  Everyone must die.  A twig snaps, a guard at the barracks lifts his head and walks around the side of Lord Akobe’s carriage.  He sees nothing.  There is a swish, a flash of metal, his head falls to the dirt road.  Everyone must die.

           Two more guards are dead before an alarm is sounded, then the others come.  They all die. Everyone must die.  The last is Lord Akobe.  In my mind, I see his face.  I have known him before.  I will kill him.  The murasame in my hand moves swiftly.  He gasps something, a word perhaps.  “Kyo” it sounded like.  It does not matter.  His head hits a wall, then my foot as I walk by.  Outside to the silence, to the road.  There are others waiting for me.  I lead them.  I point with my sword, towards the human city.  Shido.   Everyone must die.                                                          

[obsessedwith83514]

Kuroshitsuji Secret Santa

Hi, @minkasartsyplace - I was your secret santa for the Kuroshitsuji gift exchange this year. I hope that you like it, and I apologise that the characters are quite OOC - it will make (slightly more) sense at the end. Also, you said you wanted fluff… I gave you quite a bit of plot, then angst, with some fluff at the end. Sorry!

~°~°~

Nothing was strange for the Phantomhive manor; the aqua-haired man sitting at his dark mahogany desk called for his butler lazily. “Sebastian, make me some other tea - this new Chinese one is positively vile.” Almost at once, his butler came through the door, already carrying a tray of steaming Ceylon tea.

“Is there anything else you require, Young Master?” Inquired the tall butler, noting the large pile of completed paperwork on the crowded desk. Once Ciel had replied in the negative, Sebastian left with a quick bow and a quietly murmured “As you wish, My Lord.”

~°~°~

Less than an hour later, Ciel was glaring at the government official that Sebastian had just shown in from over the top of a file containing information about his company's financial future. “What is it?” His tone was clipped and sharp - after all, he wasn’t exactly inclined to be polite to someone who had seemed to no business being here and had not even scheduled a prior appointment. Especially given that said person seemed to have no sense of decorum and was almost slouching in his cheaply made (was that cotton?) suit.

“Mr Pha-”

“Lord,” Ciel broke in lazily, not daining to look at the man himself and instead choosing to focus on the records of Funtomhive's  sales from the past ten years, “it is Lord Phantomhive, I believe you’ll find, Mr Archbold.”

The already pale man seemed to go a few shades closer to stark-white and swallowed, “Quite. My apologies, Lord Phantomhive.” The man, shaken, seemed to draw himself up a little as he continued to speak. “My business here today concerns your Aunt’s will.” The dark-aqua haired man sitting behind the mahogany desk didn’t allow his composure to break as he swallowed the tea he was drinking and resisted the urge to shake the suited man - why had he not been informed of Madame Red’s will when she had died, almost seven years ago?

The official gulped. “It stipulated that you must be nineteen years of age before you could receive it.”

“Continue.” A short, sharp word that simply insisted to be obeyed fell from Ciel’s mouth like poison, causing the suited man in front of him shiver before doing as the young Lord bid him.

“I have not been authorised to know what is inside of it, however she wished for you to have this box and its contents.”

Glancing at the cluttered desk, Archbold handed a nondescript, tattered shoe box to Sebastian. Suddenly eager to see what the box contained, Ciel lifted his chin up and made eye contact with his butler, the silent message clear: get him out of here.

All it took was a single predatory glare from Sebastian before the official made his excuses and almost ran out of the office, as if the devil himself would be following.

~°~°~

Both lord and butler walked to the nearest living room, Ciel's cane tapping almost impatiently on the floor with each step. The short trip seemed to take hours. Sebastian placed the small box onto the table between two sofas and resumed his position behind Ciel.

Slowly, Ciel reached for the old box, his hand shaking almost imperceptibly as he touched the lid of it. He seemed almost afraid to open the box, and instead ran one hand over it, as if it was imbued with the spirit of his aunt - as if it could bring her back. No matter what the lord had said all the years ago, it was still clear to Sebastian that Ciel missed her.

Steeling himself for some sort of shock, Ciel placed his fingers on the edge of the box and, with no small amount of trepidation, took the torn lid off. Inside, there were two packs of custom cards, held together by some old twine, and a small booklet. Glancing up at the walls - a dark, patterned red colour, how appropriate for the memory of his Aunt - Ciel took the decrepit paper out and handed it to Sebastian with a silent command to read it aloud.

“The Mind” said the demon in a monotone, carefully keeping any expression off of his face. “This game is designed to help you get together with your friends and learn new things about each other,” at this, Ciel snorted and raised his eyebrows skeptically - why would his aunt leave him this, and why wait until he was nineteen? “There are two packs of cards - one contains as situation, the other: an emotion. You must select one of each and justify the emotion as a response to the situation.” The young lord seemed to be less impressed with each new word his butler read out. “There is no point system and no winners. We - the crew from Enlightened Entertainment - wish that you and your friends will be extremely affected by this game.”

Sebastian returned the booklet to the box and looked to Ciel - “Would you like me to contact those staying at the town house at the moment and invite them to play this with you?” The demon seemed to be trying to not smirk at the strange expression on Ciel’s face, “It seems like it needs quite a few players.”

“Fine,” the short response didn't surprise Sebastian - Ciel really wasn't one to play games that had no clear objective.

~°~°~

That night was uneventful - Sebastian had managed to keep Baldroy out of the kitchen, and even Mey-rin hadn't knocked any valuables over. Peaceful - a little strange, for the Phantomhive estate. Nonetheless, Ciel allowed himself to get a long night's rest, something that he hadn't had the pleasure of for quite a few months.

~°~°~

It was only in the evening, after Ciel had finished his dinner  and was contemplating whether he really needed to finish all of the paperwork that he was sent today, when events took a turn for the… Not necessarily for the worse, but definitely for the more chaotic, at least. Soma and Agni had obviously taken Sebastian's invitation to heart and were knocking on the mansion door by eight o'clock, the prince managing to look like an excited puppy even with the awful weather outside.

Despite the vehement protests of Ciel - made in the form of glares directed at Sebastian - both the Prince and his butler were soon sat down on a sofa in the red living room, looking curiously at the game still sat on the table.

Sebastian read the instructions once again, and gestured with a gloved hand to allow their royal guest to take the first turn.

The grinning prince looked at those surrounding him as he picked up a card from each pile, hardly containing his excitement at being able to spend time with those he almost considered family at his point. Soma quickly brushed a strand of purple hair from his face as he read the cards in front of him “The situation is that 'I am checking into a hotel but my room isn't available’” the jewellery-clad man allowed himself small laugh before continuing, “and I feel ‘joyous’ because I now have an excuse to bunk with Ciel!”

Sebastian hid a grin behind a gloved hand as Ciel groaned, not wanting to concede just how realistic that was for Soma. Agni, for his part didn't allow emotion to cross his face, apart from an indulgent twinkle in his eye that was often present whenever Soma was like this. ‘This’, of course, meaning ‘ridiculously happy and carefree’.

Silently, Agni took the next card from each pile, a small smile gracing his lips as he read them. “I feel ‘annoyed’ after ‘becoming a king’, because I know with almost certainty that His Royal Highness, Prince Soma, would still need my help.”

Soma laughed lightly at the slight jab, not noticing the unusually irked glare that Agni seemed to be directing at him.

Ciel leant back in his armchair, gesturing at Sebastian to pick up the next cards; he really didn’t see a point to this game. Perhaps he should just finish this round and then make up some excuse to leave.

“I,” Sebastian said, raising an eyebrow slightly as he read the card he had picked up, “feel ‘lustful’ after ‘making some tea’, because I…” The demon paused, seemingly unable to think of a reason. Moments later, however, he shrugged and continued, “because the person I was serving the tea to was exceptionally handsome.” Sebastian’s pupils dilated at the end of his sentence, the last few words of it coming out as more growl than speech. The positively demonic tone sent shivers down Ciel’s spine, despite the warmth emanating from the large fireplace.

Meanwhile, Soma laughed at the implications that the statement came with - a butler, in love with their master? That could never happen, right? He pointedly didn’t look at the bandaged hand of Agni that was close enough to hold. Still, he didn’t let it get rid of his fantastic mood. That moode, in itself, was a little odd, when Agni - the subject of his… desires - was so close, yet unable to be touched in the manner the prince so wanted. Oh well, he wasn’t one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, and he wouldn’t question this delightful mood he was in, either.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Sebastian’s slitted irises, Ciel took the next card from each pile, studying them both and  cursing his luck once he had read them. The other three occupants of the room looked at him questioningly - has he really been staring at the cards for that long? “I have just ‘kissed my crush’, and I now feel ‘longing’, because they… Rejected me?” The latter two words were phrased almost as a question, as if Ciel were unsure if it were a reasonable way of ending the round. He glanced up, his own turquoise eye meeting Sebastian’s dark ones - he couldn’t tell where the iris ended and the pupil began anymore. A heated look passed between them, and a longing for his butler that he hadn’t known existed before now made itself known and demanded to be… Dealt with.

Seeming to sense the change of feeling in the room, Agni stood up and waited for Soma to do the same.

Once the prince had, they both walked out, leaving the dark-haired butler and the Lord in the room.

~°~°~

Sebastian made the first move; taking a step toward Ciel, studying him. Ciel responded in kind, closing the gap between him and his butler. It didn’t occur to either of them in that moment just how little Ciel had grown - even after all these years, he still hardly came up to Sebastian’s chin.

Sebastian let out a low growl and reached up to Ciel’s covered eye. Mine, his slitted eyes seemed to say, even as his nails elongated into claws, shredding the white gloves he wore. Ciel looked into Sebastian’s cat-like eyes and saw the power over death that the demon held. He found that he wasn’t afraid, even as the claws caressed his cheekbones, threatening to draw blood. Ciel found himself grinding slightly against Sebastian’s leg, even as Sebastian cut through the string of his eyepatch and laid bare his mark.

With what seemed like a large deal of effort, Sebastian stepped away from Ciel. “Bedroom.” The single word came out as a command, and Ciel found himself wanting - needing - to obey it.

~°~°~

Once in his room, Ciel leant into Sebastian's chest, looking up into the demon's lustful eyes and shivered at the predatory gaze he received in return. The taller leant down and bit into Ciel's neck, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but more than enough to rekindle the flame of passion that had dimmed due to the walk.

Both of their pupils were blown wide, their worlds suddenly condensing to the person in front of them as one of them, both of them (did it really matter at this point?) pulled them onto the four-poster bed.

Sebastian pressed another breathy kiss to Ciel's exposed collarbone, his hands already undoing the shirt that prevented him from accessing the Lord's chest. Growing impatient, the demon ripped away the material and gazed down at Ciel as if he were his prey.

Like a cornered animal, Ciel let out a whimper at the pure power the stare held - he would surely deny it if anyone asked, but being like this - being helpless in front of the demon excited him so much more than it scared him.

The night went fast, full of moans and positively sinful words falling from each one’s mouth. They learnt the others’ body, mapping out the skin with their tongues. Sebastian wasn’t slow, nor gentle - neither of them wanted that; they were hard and fast and messy. Ciel would feel the ache of Sebastian inside him for days onward, remembering how the demon had pounded into him, and how the Lord had begged him for more - begged for the demon to go harder, faster - to make his body sing.

/\/\/\/\/\

The next morning, Ciel woke up late - the sun was filtering through his curtains, causing him to squint his eyes at the stark difference in lighting. The previous night came back to him in blurry memories - flashes of mind-numbing pleasure and moaning. Something was wrong. Ciel couldn’t quite work out what it was, but there was a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. A quick glance at the other side of Ciel’s large bed cleared up that feeling; there was no one there. He had fallen asleep with Sebastian, covered in their ejaculate, but - now - he was completely clean, and there was no evidence of their night’s activities, bar an unpleasant throbbing in his backside. He doesn’t want me. There was no other explanation for this - Sebastian must have realised what he had done, and regretted it. Perhaps he had only responded because he saw it as part of his duties as Ciel’s butler. Maybe-

The door swung open and revealed Sebastian, carrying a tray of tea for Ciel. Just as he would on any other Saturday morning. Just as if nothing had happened between them. Ciel looked up at his butler, and his eyes were filled with an emotion that Sebastian had not seen since he had first found Ciel in that cage so many years ago: fear. Pure, unadulterated fear - a fear of being left behind, a fear of not being cared about.

“I apologise, My Lord,” were the first words out of Sebastian’s mouth. “Our… Activities last night were not supposed to happen in such a manner, and I have greatly overstepped my bounds as my position of your butler.”

The formal, rehearsed manner of the speech did nothing for Ciel - he didn’t care; just as Ciel had felt cared for, had felt safe, had felt loved, he had found it was a lie. Sebastian didn’t care for him, didn’t want to keep Ciel safe, didn’t love him. Of course he didn’t - who would? The only reason Sebastian was here was for his soul.

Seeming to not notice Ciel’s panicked internal monologue, Sebastian continued to explain his actions from the previous day. “It is my understanding that the game given to you by your aunt was actually made by a Shinigami in order to manipulate its players’ emotions. Therefore, I was overcome by lust,” the demon suddenly became rather interested in the corner of Ciel’s bed sheets as he continued, “and you felt longing towards whoever was easiest. In this case, the game decided to make your emotions be directed toward myself.”

It wasn’t real. The words pounded through Ciel’s mind, pushing all other thoughts out of the way, becoming a mantra - it wasn’t real. He doesn’t care. It wasn’t real. Tears threatened to spill from the man’s eyes - he held them back by sheer force of will; surely, it was best to pretend that he hadn’t been fantasising about Sebastian long before he knew the game existed. Surely, if this game truly had altered Sebastian’s mind, it was for the best that the demon never found out that - even now - all Ciel wanted was to be able to be held in Sebastian’s arms and pretend that everything was okay. But none of it was real. The tears fell from Ciel’s eyes, dripping from his lashes down his face and onto the bed sheets below him. He hardly cared that Sebastian was in the room, watching him breaking down. Ciel couldn’t find a piece of him that cared about public appearance and opinion.

Sebastian still stood a few metres away, unsure what to do; was that not what the Young Lord had needed to hear? He took a few slow, almost hesitant, steps towards Ciel - wanting him to stop crying. Ciel hadn’t cried in so long, and now - now, it was his fault. The demon could hardly bare it - he had told Ciel the truth regarding the game, and Ciel had taken it at face value - not realising that the game hadn’t affected Sebastian: it was Ciel. It was always Ciel.

“Young Master…” Sebastian started, before abandoning that route - he had to value honesty above formality, at least in this case. “Ciel, I did not mean to upset you-” he paused - Ciel had looked up at his name, and it was so much harder to talk about this when he was faced with tear-stained eyes. “I...Was not affected by the game. It is designed for humans, not demons. It is my fault, not the game’s, for starting last night’s activities.” Was that any better? Surely, Ciel would cast him out - call him a monster for having these feelings toward him.

“Sebastian,” the usually commanding tone was subdued. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying, My Lord,” at the sound of his title, Ciel flinched. “Ciel,” Sebastian corrected, before moving on (why would saying his name calm him down, when said by a monster like me?) “Ciel, I- I have been experiencing a human emotion,” the last two words were said in a slightly questioning tone. It seemed that Sebastian knew little about emotions, himself “-the emotion of… Love.” Maybe it would have been appropriate if the manor had fallen silent, if the servants downstairs had stopped moving, and if the birds outside stopped chirping. No such thing happened. Everything was the same, yet it felt like Ciel’s heart had stopped beating. Sebastian… Loved him?

The butler had fallen back a few steps, head hung low, even with the weight of his secret removed from his shoulders. He seemed to be waiting for a reprimand. “Sebastian,” Ciel said, his voice slightly more even than it had been earlier. “I… Need to tell you something, too.” A gulp, and then “IloveyoutooandIhavebeforethegameanditwasn’tjustthegamethatmademewantyou”

“Pardon?” The perplexed expression on Sebastian’s face wasn’t one that Ciel saw often.

Taking care to talk slowly, this time, Ciel repeated himself “I… Love you, too, and I have since before the game. It wasn’t just the game that made me… Want you.”

The look on Sebastian’s face was one of hope, and when Ciel gestured for him to sit on the bed next to him, the demon only hesitated a moment before complying. Ciel laid his head on Sebastian’s shoulder, taking comfort from the solid body of his… What were they? Lovers? Partners? Did it really matter? Either way, they were together, and that was what mattered.

~°~°~

That afternoon, Soma came into Ciel’s office, wanting to say goodbye before he and Agni left the manor and finished their holiday in the townhouse. As he came in, Ciel noticed that Soma was limping slightly… Limping, like Ciel had been all morning too. Had the game also helped Soma and Agni’s relationship? Besides, Soma somehow looked much happier than he had when he’d come to the manor the day before. Just as that thought was crossing Ciel’s mind, both butlers came through the door and stood behind their respective masters, both of them slightly closer than necessary. It seemed that, at least for now, everything - while new - would turn out just fine.

Strange - for the Phantomhive Manor.

~°~°~The End~°~°~

[delicrieux]

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] pt.4

premise: two students start developing feelings for one another despite having too many secrets to count. tws for this chapter: implied childhood trauma word count: 2.6k

amortentia masterpost | masterlist | music

4. a lesson in language

The trip is long and tedious, with dark grey skies and no sunshine. Puddles lay waste on the road, small rocks sticking to your black robe, its edges already patched with mud. The rest of the students fare no better: the girls yelp and giggle and lift their coats and skirts higher; the boys run and laugh heartily once someone slips and tumbles into the dirt. The two teachers that accompany this crowd have barely enough time to discipline everyone, whether for indecency or otherwise.

“En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie.”

You and Tom walk together, a bit further back, watching the excited horde of students as they seem in an unruly rush to Hogsmede. You pull your scarf closer, letting the wool scratch your face and tickle your neck. Some girls glance back at the two of you, narrow their eyes and look away again; the two of you stand at a distance, enough for all to understand that you are merely two friends enjoying a conversation about the weather.

Tom’s focus on you varies – at times he watches closely, mapping your face, the cupid’s bow of your lips and the wink of your lashes…At other’s, he is completely immersed in Ruth’s flaring skirt or the teacher’s nagging voice.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, and you almost fail to hear him over the wind. Tilting your head to the side, you trace his pale face with striking precision; perhaps he notices, since the corner of his lips curls into a knowing smile, “What does it mean?” A spur of pride ignites in your chest and you take your next step with a light jump, fighting the grin that is about to pull on your lips. You look away from him, pretending to think, letting the silence stretch, leaving a pinch of mystery.

“Maurice Scève, a famous French poet, once wrote so about his mistress…” You begin, dreamy, song-like, “And it is also considered to be one of the most romantic sayings in the world.” At this your gaze locks on his. A breath catches in the back of your throat as your heart makes a sudden leap you are almost all too familiar with by now. He seems to share this delicate wonder you are spoiling him with, and he strays closer, as if your next words would be a spell to open Pandora itself.

A whistle blows. Your shoulders jerk and you glance away. Tom smiles and steps back. Ruth is yelled at again. Two kids bump your shoulder lightly as they rush forward.

“…I simply like the way it is pronounced…” You continue with a mumble, “En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. In her beauty rests both my death and my life.” You smile shyly, “See, it is the ma mort…My death, and ma vie…My life. Such profound devotion…I could never imagine anyone saying so to me.” You add quietly to yourself. Lost somewhere in a daydream, you do not notice the strange look he sends your way.

“Are you well versed in French?” He inquires.

You are quiet for a moment, “I suppose so, yes. My mother… made me learn it when I was younger.”

“What else did she make you learn?”

“Nothing of real interest.” You say, “I was an avid reader, though. She insists it was because she used to read me La Belle et la Bête.” Your lips twitch at the memory, neither blissful nor awful, “It was my absolute favourite…Do you know of it?”

“I’m afraid I do not.”

“Well, it is a fairy-tale. About a girl trapped in a castle by a terrible beast. Each night he comes to her and asks for her hand in marriage…And each night she dimissess him. He was a horrendous monster, see, a frightful thing. She had thought that his soul was as terrifying as his visage.” You say, “One day, though, she realises how deceiving appearances can be. She falls in love with his kindness and thoughtfulness instead of his looks,” You glance at Tom, “And she finally says yes…” You trail off, “Then he turns into a prince. Mother said it was based on a true story, and I cannot help but wonder if that was the case.”

“Sounds like the opposite of Dorian Gray.” He grins.

You laugh a little, though it comes out a bit raspy, “Yes, I suppose it is, is it not? It is a bit silly, though, how muggles reinvent magic. They really do believe it is limitless.”

“It sort of is, isn’t it?”

“Come now, Tom, there is no such magical object in the world that would grant eternal life. If there was, I am certain most wizards and witches would use it.” You finish with a teasing smile. He chuckles.

“Well, to be fair, Wilde was a muggle. It was most likely a metaphor for youth...Did you read it in English?”

“French.”

“Do you read everything in French?”

“Of course.” He narrows his eyes at you, though subtly, you barely notice the change, “It is in my family, you see. I was supposed to attend Beauxbatons.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You turn away. Your fingertips numb from the cold and you curse the leather gloves that you wear. You hook your hands together and bring them to your lips; he watches in silence and wonders what exactly are you thinking. Nothing of real interest, is what you chant in your mind. It is unnerving. You feel as if he can see right through you: past the layers of fabric, past the skin, past the tender flesh and to the very core of your being. As if, if he were to draw closer, he would be able to read every tale of your life weaved into muscle, every snippet of your childhood you keep secret exposed by the drum of your heart.

You smile graciously, like any proper lady should, to deter his inspection. Something dark and icky pools in your stomach, an overbearing sense that he knows. It weighs you down and your shoulders slump lightly. The expression you wear is plastic, but you doubt he can tell. No one has been able, so far.

“It does not matter, really.” You reply, upbeat. “But now, I am afraid you will have to tell me a bit more about yourself, seeing as you have questioned me so relentlessly.” He snorts at your words, and your eyes crinkle from your smile, “So, pray tell, Tom. Do you speak a different tongue?”

He thinks; his eyes shift to the front again into the upcoming contours of the small village. A drop of rain kisses your cheek, and soon enough more dot the surface of your face. You glance down, see the ripples in muddy puddles and avoid a few by carefully stepping to the right and brushing your shoulder to his. You murmur an apology and before shying away. A second whistle pierces the air and it seems to catch Tom off-guard. He blinks owlishly, finally returning his attention back to you.

He leans closer, “Promise not to tell?”

“Mister Riddle and Miss (Lastname)! Do hurry up! And, respectful distance, mind you!”

You are to obey the order, but something about the way he looks at you makes you freeze and ignore it; he either does not care or did not hear it. Your throat itches from a sudden dry-spell and you gulp. A wave of curiosity soaks you to the very bone. You see small versions of familiar doe eyes reflect in his iris. Is it a secret? You wonder, For such a look it must be…

The rain hits harder.

“I promise.”

...

You must take shelter when the scenery becomes a blur: the houses distort and even the teacher’s whistle falls flat and quiet in comparison to the barbaric drum of rain. Cold water leaks down your lashes and your hair sticks to your skin. You shut your eyes as they start to sting and shudder. A warm touch on your leather glove tugs you along, and blinded your quickly follow in mismatched steps.

A bell chirps as you are pushed into somewhere warm and dry. The door creaks shut behind you and the space echoes with sharp noises: clanking, cracking, a few barks.

Pet shop?

You open your eyes and the grip on your hand eases. Tom runs his fingers through his hair and moves forward to the empty counter. You briefly glance back through the small window of the door—the world is indistinguishable, a miss-match of heaven and earth, leaving you and he completely isolated. The thought is not entirely unpleasant.

You take off your gloves and shove them into your pockets. The two of you are drenched from the tops of your heads to the soles of your feet; he leaves a trail of water as he paces and seems amused by the fact, and you, rooted in spot, count the drops plashing from your robe onto the wooden floorboards. They creak under you, and skittishly step onto the carpet in fear that they suddenly will not hold up your weight.

Fire dances in the stone fireplace, glimmering like a small dragon, its light reflecting in glass trinkets. An unusual place to take shelter in: you would assume one would run straight to The Three Broomsticks and have a drink of Butterbeer to warm up. Shivering, you move closer to the fireplace like a moth drawn to light.

You jerk once some creature swinging its legs above your head knocks on the ceiling. Letting your hands heat you peek at the various animals lurking in cages—some are proudly displayed by the windows, some are tucked away in the shadows. Perhaps they fear daylight, or perhaps they are too dangerous to see.

Tom searches for the owner, and once he is sure no one is near, he turns to you and you smile as you notice water dripping from the tip of his nose.

“I suppose leaving our wands at Hogwarts was foolish.” He says, a grin pulling on the corners of his lips. You laugh, though it is quickly interrupted by a cough.

“Definitely.” You agree hoarsely, inching closer to the fire.

“Sorry if I made you sick again.” He adds, drawing near, crouching next to you, “You can tell the Head Nurse I’m to blame.”

“As if that would appease her…” You murmur with a small smile, “But worry not, I can manage a cold on my own. A bit of tea and I will be good as new.”

“Still, if there’s anything I can do…” He extends his hand to you in a wordless invitation. You stare at it for a moment, struck by wonder at the implication. Your palm aligns with his in a holy palmer’s kiss, and his fingers weave through yours, “Do let me know.”

“Certainly.” You utter as he comes to stand, once again pulling you along with him.

“I really wish you’d refer to me in a friendlier manner.” He comments with a smile, “I almost feel like I’m conversing with a professor all the time.”

“Apologies if I caused you—”

“You caused nothing.” He says, “Only delight. Come away, now. I want to show you something.” He moves further back and you follow, and you think you would follow him to the depths of the earth or through Dante’s inferno if he spared you one of those lovely smiles again; if he only spoke in tender words that concealed something so devout behind them.

“Much like you,” He starts, “I could speak it since I was little...Only I had no teacher.” He stops next to a glass cage with a small serpent inside—its scales shimmer in the firelight and dot with mellow colours of rain. The amber surface is slick; small beady eyes watch your approach cautiously. A hostile hiss with a flash of shiny, long fangs makes you halt. Though it loses interest in you all too quickly, ticking it’s head to Tom. It’s fearsome maw closes. It appears curious, attentive almost. You glance between them, not sure what to make of this sudden change in tact. Perhaps it is just a trick of the light.

Tom crouches to it and you follow suit, minding your distance between the two, the former you fear will feel your tremble, even through linked hands, and the latter you fear will strike you. He eyes the snake before turning to you, almost expectantly, as if to ask for permission. Unsure, you give a simple nod.

It is strange. Unnerving, perhaps. Unlike most languages—barebones, nothing but graphological markers and sounds stringed into lexis—this one has a feeling, an odd one at that. Shrill and ululating, it pierces your ears and makes your hairs stand on end. It is divinely uncomfortable, danger marked by tone. If it was not for Tom, holding your hand so gently, and speaking in such a refined, fluent manner, you would feel unsafe, scared even. But you are not.

Odd. You feel odd, stranded at a crossroads, uncertain of how to react. Your mind skews with flashing images of warnings and omens and prophecies and a history of ill reputation. All of it molds like wax into a figure your hand is held hostage by, and a part of you wishes to pull away and rush into the drowned world behind the door, safely hidden from him. Another wishes to stay and finds little harm in the fact.

Are you surprised? Certainly, you had not expected him to speak in Parseltongue. Russian, perhaps, Arabic even, but not the language of snakes that holds such high regard at your House, such deific esteem among your peers. Yet all of them are none the wiser. If Salazar Slytherin himself was to hear Tom’s words, he would rejoice, and the whole House would follow suit. A celebration of dionysian scale would take place the very same evening.

So why is it, that grand as this secret is, it remains one? And why, out of all of his friends, his peers, his professor, he shares it with you?

You feel on the verge of unravelling something, finding some hidden meaning behind his actions, yet that would implore you to assume his feelings and you dare not stray into forbidden territory. You were not brought up to assume, nor to flail in fear or overtly revel in a discovery. You do not wish to do those things, either.

He stops, all this time he was watching you closely for any shift in your clear expression but you look no different than just hearing someone read off a verse in French. Your focus falls from him to the amber snake, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you lean forward—it spins, going in circles, trying to devour its own tail. Ouroboros. If eternity is his secret, then you will guard it with your heart. It is a wonderfully terrible sight.

The room goes into vertigo when you stare at it for too long, your mind trying to keep up with your eyes, ears, the erratic beats of your heart.

“You have said…” You take a pause to catch your breath, “You could speak Parseltongue ever since you were little.” It is more of a statement rather than a question, and Tom only nods. You pull away from the snake, unable to hide your awe, “I will not—I won’t” You fix yourself, and a slow grin graces his features, one so lovely you hardly contain your own, “—ask what else you can do. Not now, at least. But I’m...curious, I’ll admit. So please tell me when you’re ready.”

“I will.” He says without missing a beat, squeezing your hand, “I promise.”

Pleased with his cooperation, you glance back at the snake and catch a glimpse of it laying still with its tail grasped between its teeth and ink and blood oozing—

His hand on your cheeks pulls you away before you can get a better look; his proximity erases any feelings of unease before they had time to take root, “It’s stopped raining, I think. We should go before the shopkeeper comes back. He might start asking too many questions.”

shall we go back?

or onto the next part?

[singingwordwright]

Gorgeous cover art courtesy of @beyondthehunt Originally betaed by @roseglass with some final (eventual) copy-editing by @bonibaru

A Separate Peace (sequel to One Easy Answer) a Malec AU by @maleccrazedauthor

(Also on AO3)

Chapters: 24/28 Word Count: 104,900 Rating: Mature Premise: Arranged Marriage AU, Canon Divergent starting at Ep 1x12

(Please See Chapter List for Notes and Summary)

As the afternoon aged, they chased Clary’s sense of Jonathan through the city on a twisting, constantly-changing path. He didn’t seem to be moving very fast, but they were never quite able to close the distance before they realized he’d veered off in an entirely different direction. Clary’s frustration at her inability to get an accurate fix on him after her confidence that her plan would work might have been amusing in other circumstances.

Finally, Jace had looked down at a sewer grate and cursed. “He’s underground. Using the sewers or the subway and steam tunnels.”

“Without a more accurate signal, tracking him down there will be impossible; even if we can find the right tunnel, he’ll have turned into another one by the time we pick up his trail.” Alec said. “We’ll never catch up to him. Our best bet is to try not to let him get too far away and wait for him to surface.”

Izzy pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Raphael, have him give his people a heads-up.”

“Why underground?” Clary asked, scowling over the fact that her tracking scheme was only somewhat successful.

Jace shrugged. “Valentine is injured. Could be he can’t handle a glamour rune right now, so Jonathan may be trying to keep him out of sight. They wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

Once the sun set, the winding course stabilized into something more direct, leading them directly to the gates of an historic cemetery.

“A graveyard?” Clary asked skeptically. “What could they be looking for here?”

Jace regarded the wrought-iron fence-work with a grimace. “Is it too much to hope that Valentine saved us the trouble and died?”

“Don’t I wish?” she muttered, then glanced sideways at Jace. “So, Maia huh?”

It was too dark to be certain, but Alec could have sworn Jace blushed. “Well, we do have a history of passionate face-punching.”

She raised her hands and took a step back. “I’m not here to kinkshame.”

“Anything on Jonathan?” Izzy asked, and there was a grimness in her face that quelled Clary and Jace’s banter. Since that moment in the training room earlier, the burden of the grief they carried today had been…lighter, somehow. As though the pain of losing Max and learning about their father’s betrayal was weeks or months old, rather than fresh, jagged-edged anguish they’d felt that morning. But now that they were drawing close to Max’s killer, that wound was starting to ache more intensely, accompanied by a smoldering rage.

If Alec had any say in the matter, Jonathan would pay for all he’d done in blood.

Clary closed her eyes, focusing on whatever pull she was feeling in the blood she shared with her brother. “Only that he’s close. Sorry.”

“We’ll split up,” Alec announced, pulling his bow off his shoulder. “Jace and I will work our way toward the wooded section at the southern perimeter. You two check the mausoleums and the banks of the creek to the west.”

Once Izzy and Clary had acknowledged with brisk nods, Alec pulled out his phone. “Lydia, we’ve tracked them down to a cemetery in Highland Park. Can you dispatch reinforcements to my location? We’re not letting them get away again.”

“That might be a bit difficult,” Lydia said, her voice carrying the echoey quality that told Alec she had him on speaker. “Since the sun went down, our monitors have picked up a spike in demon activity. The demons appear to be moving in the area near you, which suggests Valentine is using the Mortal Cup to create a diversion.”

“Damn. He’s lost his army thanks to Dot, so now he’s reverted back to using demons as cannon fodder. Okay. Get people here if you can, but keeping the demons off the mundanes has to be the priority.”

“We’re on it.” She disconnected before Alec could reply.

Jace didn’t need Alec to explain that they were on their own. “Valentine’s injured, so we have that going for us, but I’ve fought Jonathan. He’s the one we need to worry about. Demon strength and speed, and he was trained by Valentine.”

Alec quirked an eyebrow at him. “Better than you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jace smirked. “Don’t underestimate him is what I’m saying.”

“Just hope for his sake that we find him before Izzy does,” Alec said darkly.

“None of us are going to let him walk away after what he did to Max,” Jace vowed, tightening his grip on his seraph blade.

Alec looked down at the carefully manicured lawn passing under his feet. “I almost wish you and Clary hadn’t done what you did earlier.”

“The tracking? Why?”

“Not the tracking. What came with it. The angelic power you called up. It makes things…easier. Doesn’t it?”

Beside him, Jace swallowed audibly. “Yeah.”

“This shouldn’t be easier. Not Max. Not yet.” Alec shifted the strap of his quiver on his shoulder. “When we kill Sebastian—Jonathan—that’s when it’s supposed to stop hurting so damned much.”

“I—It still will,” Jace said, sounding flustered. Alec glanced up at him to find him grimacing. “I think. I don’t know how this works, and I’m not used to being the one doing the reassuring. But emotions cloud judgment, right? If we go at Jonathan furious and hungry for blood, he can use that against us. So we take him down tonight level-headed and clear of purpose. For Max.”

Alec could almost wonder at Jace’s calm. Then again, Jace had plenty of experience with personal betrayals, didn’t he? Max’s death aside, what was hitting Alec and Izzy so hard about Jonathan’s duplicity was the way they had been played, the way they’d had their best intentions—the best parts of their natures, really—used against them.

But that was just a day in the life of anyone who’d had the misfortune to be raised by Valentine Morgenstern, wasn’t it?

“What about you and Magnus?” Jace asked. “Did it make that easier, too?”

Alec shook his head and sighed. “There’s nothing to make better there. We’ll get past it. We just…need to work through it. I mean, that’s what’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?”

“How should I know?” Jace scoffed, then frowned. “You really had no idea what he was up to with Dot?”

“I knew something was going on, but he said it wasn’t his secret to share, so I didn’t push.” He skirted an old headstone that slanted precariously into the space between the graves. “He had his reasons, but still. He did all that because he wasn’t sure he could trust me. So that’s all something we need to deal with, but mostly it was just—”

“—one hit too many,” Jace finished for him.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed with a grimace. Something on a nearby gravestone glistened in the moonlight and he nudged Jace’s arm, pointing to it. “Look.”

“Blood. Valentine’s?”

“That, or something he’s planning to throw at us got a piece of someone. Either way, we’re on the right track.” Alec took his bow off his shoulder and quickened his pace toward the treeline.

Something was definitely moving within the trees as they approached the wooded copse. Jace raised his sword as Alec nocked an arrow, and a prickle of…something...raised the hairs on the back of Alec’s neck.

“Pay attention to where you’re walking,” he murmured. “I think there might be an entrance to Faerie ahead.”

Jace shook his head. “If that’s how Valentine thinks he’s going to get around the warlocks’ wards, he’s really desperate. The Seelies will tear him apart. He—”

Jace’s words were driven from his throat by a blast of magic that crashed into them like a speeding truck. It tossed them into the air, them slammed them to the ground.

“He’s got a warlock with him!” Jace wheezed.

Alec struggled to his feet, ribs and lungs aching. “Not just any warlock. I know that spell.”

He should have considered before who else might have been imprisoned in the Gard with Valentine. The question was, how willingly was she working with Valentine now?

A figure was limping quickly away from them as they charged into the woods.

“Valentine, stop!” Jace shouted, his blade high and ready.

Alec was too busy scanning the perimeter for any trace of Iris Rouse to get a good look at Valentine, but what he saw was…horrific. Deep, bleeding lesions ran down his face, as though his skin had been melted away in places. His normally erect bearing was hunched and pain twisted his features, edging the calculating madness in his eyes with desperation.

“Hello, son,” Valentine rasped. “Here to stop your old man from seeking healing for his wounds?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jace gritted between clenched teeth, but he lowered his sword. “I’ve seen your real son. Gotta say, I’m noticing a certain family resemblance,” he added, gesturing to Valentine’s ruined face.

Alec clenched his jaw. Jace would literally stand at the gates of hell and sass the very devil, but they didn’t have time for that right now.

“Don’t engage with him. We’re here to kill him, and his son,” he reminded Jace tersely.

Remember Max, he wanted to add, but he didn’t. Bringing up Max would only give Valentine more insight to use against them. He wouldn’t take this kill from Jace; Jace deserved it for all he’d suffered at Valentine’s hands, but they needed to do this and move on.

Jace nodded and brought his sword up again. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“Ah, Jonathan.” Valentine’s face twisted into gruesome smirk. Alec had no idea how he could pull off insouciance looking as wrecked as he did, but somehow he managed it. “He’s a good boy. A bit headstrong, perhaps, but then that’s a trait shared by all my children. Must mean I’ve done something right.”

“Never once in your life,” Alec muttered, scanning the perimeter again. “Iris! I know you’re out there! Show yourself!”

“She’s probably gone ahead to open the way into the Seelie realm,” Valentine said, chucking a thumb over his shoulder. “Normally it’s something I’d do myself, but I’m a bit under the weather. She’s quite eager to lend her assistance. See, I promised her this is the last favor I’ll require before releasing her to reunite with her sweet little goddaughter.”

That’s never going to happen. Alec managed to bite his tongue before the words left his mouth. Of course Valentine would know of Alec’s protectiveness toward Madzie. Jonathan would have reported it to him.

“What, so they can have a touching reunion before you use Raziel’s wish to obliterate them?” Jace asked snidely.

“Knock it off, Jace,” Alec snapped. “Kill him, or I will.”

“You think that’s what I want Raziel’s wish for now?” Valentine asked, scoffing. “Look at me, son. Even if I destroyed the Downworlders and the Shadowhunters who coddle them, what joy could I find in the peace the I created, when I look like this?”

Jace nodded slowly. “The Clave will never hail you as a hero if your face reminds them every day that you’re a monster.”

“You’d think they’d manage to overlook my wounds, considering they were acquired defending all humanity from demon-kind, but human nature being what it is…”

“Enough of this.” Alec drew back his bowstring and released the arrow. It flew straight for Valentine’s heart…and vaporized before it ever reached him.

“What the—?” He and Jace exchanged a look.

“Disgusting as they may be, warlocks come in quite handy, don’t they? Well, you would know.” Valentine’s face contorted into a sneer in Alec’s direction. “See, the problem with my mind-control serum was that it was difficult to be certain when it had worn off, and it offered severely diminishing returns as far as loyalty was concerned. But Iris’s dealings with Clarissa gave me an idea. When I promised to reunite her with Madzie, she was only too happy to give me her blood oath to defend and aid me until my work was done. As long as she lives, the protective spells she’s placed around me will hold.”

“Find her,” Jace growled, advancing until he had Valentine backed against a tree. “I’ll deal with him when you’re done.”

Alec nodded, then grabbed Jace by the shoulder, squeezing hard. “Don’t hesitate,” he hissed in his ear. “For Max.”

Jace met his eyes, his face set with steely resolve, and nodded once. “For Max,” he murmured.

“Now, where is Clarissa?” Alec heard Valentine taunt as he raced off into the trees. “Searching for her brother, perhaps? I worry for her, you know. Jonathan was quite distraught to find she wouldn’t be the adoring little sister he’d imagined…”

Alec clenched his jaw and forced himself not to turn back. He had to trust that Jace wouldn’t hesitate this time.

The prickling strangeness of being on the edge of the faerie lands mounted the deeper he went into the trees. Someone with sufficient sensitivity might wander unwittingly across the divide between the realms, if the Fair Folk wished it—and for the sake of the mischief they loved so much, they frequently did. If the Fair Folk didn’t wish it, only someone of sufficient physical and mental fortitude could pass the barrier between realms, and while Valentine’s mental fortitude wasn’t in question, his physical injuries might pose an obstacle.

Unless Iris managed to pierce the veil for him.

The glow of her magic drew Alec through the thicket until finally she stood with her back to him, her hands radiating power as the barrier between worlds shimmered.

“Iris, stop!” he barked, drawing his bowstring back. “I will kill you.”

“You don’t understand!” Her face was twisted with torment as she looked over her shoulder. “It’s the only way he’ll let me have Madzie back!”

“He doesn’t have her. He’s been in Clave custody for months.”

“His people do!”

“If that’s what he told you, he lied.” He softened his tone, but kept his bow ready. “Madzie’s safe. Catarina Loss has been taking care of her. Iris. She okay. She’s happy. She has a good home now.”

The power around Iris’s hands faded abruptly, though the barrier to Faerie still…rippled. She turned to face Alec, a far cry from the tidily dressed and groomed woman he’d encountered when helping Clary all those months ago. Her clothes were threadbare, stained and wrinkled, her hair unbound and unkempt. “I told her I’d come back for her. She misses me.”

“Yes. She does,” Alec said sympathetically. “It took her a long time to be happy again, especially after what Valentine made her do. Did you know he made her kill people? She still has nightmares, and days where she can’t speak to anyone. He used the promise of you to force her cooperation, and now he’s doing the same thing to you. But Iris…you can’t have her back.”

Iris’s eyes filled with fury, her hands starting to glow again. “You can’t keep me from her. I’m the only mother she’s ever known!”

“You’re a fugitive from the Clave. You were tricking mundane women into being impregnated by demons. That’s not going to go away, no matter what happens here tonight. And Catarina and Magnus will never let Madzie go with you again.” Iris’s eyes began darting from one direction to the next, as though the walls of her cell in the Gard were closing around her again. “Besides, even if you could have Madzie back, if you help Valentine get away tonight, sooner or later he’s going to figure out the location of the Mortal Mirror, and when he does, he’s going to use Raziel’s wish to kill all of you. Every warlock, every Downworlder in existence. Even Madzie.”

Iris closed her eyes, a wave of despair washing across her features. Her entire body slumped in surrender. “He already knows. He has a contact within the Clave who called a few hours ago. He’s trying to get to Idris.”

Panic gripped Alec’s heart in an iron grasp, chilling him from the inside out. “Help me stop him,” he pleaded. “Help me protect her.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head wildly. “I gave a blood oath to aid and defend him until he releases me. It’s binding unto death.”

Power enveloped her hands and Alec drew back his bowstring once more. “Don’t, Iris. Don’t make me do it.”

“I have to. I can’t do it myself. Suicide violates my oath, even passively failing to protect myself.” The shimmer around her hands erupted into a massive wall of energy that Alec barely managed to dodge, throwing himself aside and hitting the ground with a painful thud. He shot at her a split second before impact.

Iris blocked the first arrow he released with another spell, sending it flying wide into the trees.

“Do it!” she shouted.

He rolled out of the way of a ball of magic, reaching for another arrow as he moved. He let it fly in that vulnerable instant while Iris pulled more power into herself.

This one didn’t miss. It pierced her chest dead center, driving the wind from her with an almost surprised gasp. A bloody bubble burst upon her lips as her knees buckled under her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, falling to her side. A tear glimmered in her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Tell Madzie her Nana loved her.”

“I will,” Alec promised, but she was beyond hearing. And surely it must be all the horror and grief of the day that made his eyes burn for this woman whose actions had filled him with so much revulsion.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He rolled to his feet and slung his bow over his shoulder, turning back to where he’d left Jace with Valentine.

Something was hurtling through the woods toward him, crashing against trees and stumbling through the undergrowth. It barreled into Alec before he had a chance to pull his bow off his shoulder, knocking him into a tree, and charged through the weakened veil to Faerie.

A moment later, Jace came limping along, clutching his side where his shirt was stuck to him and glistening red-black in the faint moonlight.

“You okay?” Alec asked, reaching for his stele. He lifted Jace’s shirt and activated his iratze.

Jace made disgruntled sound. “Yeah. Caught me by surprise. He must have felt the moment Iris’s protections faded, and stabbed me before I realized he was vulnerable. I’m lucky Valentine’s in such bad condition; I think he was actually going for my heart.” Jace strode purposefully toward the threshold Valentine had just crossed. “Come on, let’s go.”

Nothing happened as he stepped over the spot where Valentine had disappeared. The shimmer in the air was gone, the passage sealed.

“Dammit. The Seelies must have felt Valentine pass through and reinforced the barrier,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t matter. If we crossed into the Seelie realm without petitioning the queen for passage, we’d be in violation of the Accords,” Alec said. “Given the tensions right now, I doubt the Seelie Queen is feeling very lenient, either. I’ll call Magnus, see if he can arrange a meeting with her as soon as possible, maybe he and Luke can get through to her. Besides, Jonathan’s still out there, and it sounds like he’s after Clary.”

“Izzy’s with her,” Jace said confidently, pivoting to head in the other direction. “Let’s just hope by the time we get there, she’ll have left us a piece of him to take a swing at.”

“As long as it ends up with Jonathan dead, I don’t care who gets the last blow in.” Alec said as he followed, but he broke into a jog all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Clary said, apropos of nothing, as they emerged from the third mausoleum they’d searched.

Izzy gave her a confused look. “For what?”

“For teasing Jace about Maia and acting like this is just another day, when you’ve just lost Max. Everything your family has gone through today…”

The mention of Max was like a knife through her heart, about the millionth knife today, despite the soothing balm of the angelic light they’d all been bathed in earlier. She forced the feeling aside. “If you didn’t notice, Jace was teasing back. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful. If someone had cracked a joke after my mom died…”

“There will be a time for mourning later,” Izzy said firmly. “We’re Shadowhunters. We’re soldiers. We don’t always have the luxury of putting everything on hold when we lose someone we love. We have to keep moving forward, stay focused on the mission. The banter is part of what we’ve always done, and right now we need things to feel normal.”

Clary nodded soberly, then grabbed Izzy’s wrist. “Over there. By the edge of the creek.”

The pale moonlight showed mounds of loose dirt rising up from the ground, separate from the neatly laid out rows of the modern parts of the cemetery. “Fresh graves.”

“Too fresh,” Clary said with a nod. “There’s three of them, all clustered together. They’re not tidy enough to have been dug by the cemetery’s groundskeepers.”

“Vampires.” Izzy closed her eyes against a painful wave of longing. The bliss of vampire venom would be so good right now. It would make that hollow space in her heart that had once been occupied by Max feel less empty.

The accompanying sense of fear was nearly as strong, as Alec’s warnings about the dangers of being bitten again came back to her.

And anger, at the way Sebastian—Jonathan—had used her addiction to gain access to her and her family.

“No way it’s coincidence that someone is raising vampires in the same cemetery we tracked Jonathan to,” she muttered, her whip slithering off her wrist. “Valentine’s lost his army, and he’s always been more than happy to use demons and Downworlders to do his dirty work.”

“Think these vamps will be the same as the ones who ambushed you and your mom?”

“Trained to fight?” Izzy shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know if he and Camille have had that sort of time. Still, be prepared.”

Clary pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll call Alec and Jace—”

Izzy caught her hand. “No. I’ve got this.”

“Iz—”

The vampire swept into Clary in a blur of speed. It drove her to the ground, snarling. The dirt of the grave still clung to his clothing, and if he’d fed yet, it hadn’t been nearly enough to assuage his newly-risen bloodlust. Izzy wrapped her whip around his neck, dragging him off Clary far enough for Clary to drive her seraph blade through his heart.

Sheer instinct had Izzy spinning where she stood. A snap of her wrist converted the whip into a bladed staff, which she drove through the heart of an oncoming vamp before she even consciously sensed its approach.

The third vampire was still struggling to rise from her grave. She lunged for Clary and Izzy before she had even fully emerged, and Izzy dispatched her just as quickly as the other two, but while her attention was on it, another blur slammed into Clary, bashing her head against the trunk of a tree on the bank of the creek.

“Clary!” Izzy spun, rushing to Clary who lay unmoving on the ground. The vampire who had tackled Clary had disappeared so quickly Izzy couldn’t even track where it had gone, moving faster than anything she’d ever encountered. “Clary, get up!”

Clary moaned and tried to move, but couldn’t seem to push herself up off the ground. Scanning their surroundings for the final vampire, Izzy cautiously crouched to check on Clary.

Which was when the vampire sped back in. It had her in a headlock before she could even react.

A cloud of vaguely familiar perfume enveloped Izzy, and the skin against her neck felt silken. This was no newly-risen vamp still gritty with grave dirt.

“Camille,” she spat, trying for bravado despite the surge of yearning that swept through her, being so close to a vampire.

“I can smell Raphael all over you,” Camille said merrily. “What a naughty boy he’s been.”

Izzy gritted her teeth. “Not anymore.”

“It doesn’t work that way, sweetie.” Camille’s nose brushed Izzy’s neck along the artery, her cool breath making Izzy’s skin ripple. She could have sworn she felt the points of Camille’s fangs and she wanted it, with a desperation that paralyzed her, made it impossible to move, to struggle. “The older the vampire, the more powerful the venom, you know. Raphael’s practically still a baby. Now me, on the other hand…”

“I wouldn’t be bragging about your age, if I were you,” Izzy snapped. She wished her body would obey, but it longed for the bite Camille kept taunting her with, even as her mind quailed in fear.

“Release her, Camille,” came Sebastian’s clipped command from the shadows. No. Jonathan. He had none of Sebastian’s unassuming humility or gentleness. He seemed so cold and arrogant that Izzy couldn’t grasp how she’d ever once found him warm or kind.

“I don’t think so,” Camille purred. “I’ve never had a Nephilim subjugate before. We could have a lovely time together.”

“Find another Shadowhunter, then. You’ve fulfilled your purpose. Leave, before I forget to uphold my end of our bargain.”

Camille hissed at him, thrusting Izzy away from her. The paralysis of will that had kept her still in Camille’s grasp broke once Izzy had some distance. She rolled to her feet and dropped into a crouch, her whip slithering down her side, as she, Jonathan and Camille all stood against each other in a three-way face off.

Camille’s eyes darted between Jonathan and Izzy, and then she hissed again and sped away in a blur of motion.

Jonathan took a step toward Izzy and she drove him back with a crack of her whip, toward the edge of the creek. She chanced a glance behind him at Clary, who was finally stirring, trying to get to her feet. Blood darkened her pale brow.

Izzy refocused on Jonathan, lashing out with her whip again, forcing him back another step.

“I trusted you,” she snarled. “I trusted you and you betrayed me. You gave me the yin fen. You made me an addict. You murdered my brother!”

If her words truly penetrated, he gave no indication of it. His head cocked to the side, almost studiously. “Yes, Max’s death was…regrettable. I tried to explain to him that I just needed to deal with the warlock girl, but he insisted on defending her. She threatened my family. You of all people should understand why I did what I had to do.”

The end of her whip wrapped around his arm the next time she swung it. He gripped it in his hands, dragging her toward him on the dewy sod. The sound of his skin sizzling and the smell of burning flesh wafted on the night breeze.

Jonathan glanced down, showing no alarm at the way the whip was searing his skin. “Ah. Electrum. When one has demon blood, one tends to have a sensitivity to such things. Luckily my time in Edom taught me to withstand such petty torments.” His smile was chillingly sweet. “Sometimes I even rather enjoy them.”

Izzy planted her feet on the slippery turf, leaning against his pull on the whip. “Why do all this? For Valentine? He banished you!”

“That was an unfortunate incident, I admit,” Jonathan said casually, as though Valentine had done nothing more than step on his toe. “But when he summoned me back, I realized it had all been a misunderstanding. And in the end, well, he’s family. Family stands together.” His eyes narrowed and he looked back briefly over his shoulder at Clary. “A lesson our mother never taught my sister. Valentine tried to warn me that Clary would hate me, but I had hoped… Yet, with our mother dead, she still turns to others rather than choosing to take her place with her family. You wouldn’t do such a thing to your brothers, would you, Isabelle?”

His gaze focused on her with alarming intensity, and the pressure on the whip increased. Her feet slid, the distance between them narrowing an inch and a time.

“My brothers aren’t deranged,” Izzy gritted, pulling away harder as he dragged her inexorably forward.

“Even if they were, you wouldn’t turn on them. I think I finally understand you.” His brow furrowed, as though working out a puzzle. “It’s taken me a while, I confess. So many things about you contradict what my father taught me. When Aldertree made you choose between Alec and Jace, you chose Alec. But eventually, I realized you simply chose the best of an array of bad options to try to save them both. You protected Jace as well as your brother.”

“Jace is my brother.”

“Precisely my point. You stand by him the same as you would your real family. That unshakeable loyalty, that is what Jocelyn failed to teach Clary. She turns against her father and brother for werewolves and vampires and warlocks whom she calls her family, but then she disregards them when she no longer needs them. She spoke of trying to save me, then so quickly decided I was unsalvageable.” His gaze softened as he looked at Izzy beseechingly. “You would never do that. You would never give up or turn away. You, Isabelle, are the sister I should have had.”

Astonishment made her forget to resist the pull on the whip, until they were almost toe to toe, mere inches apart. The scent of his burning skin was pungent between them, and the way his eyes pleaded with her was almost...innocent. As though he had no idea why what he was saying was insane.

That, more than anything, that detached lack of comprehension, was more frightening than anything else she’d seen from him. She tried to jerk away, the whip falling to the ground between them, but Jonathan caught her arm and his eyes held her like a cobra’s mesmerizing stare.

“I could be your brother,” he said, almost smiling at the idea. His voice lilted sweetly, entreating. “You and I could stand together the way family is meant to. The way even my father doesn’t comprehend. He betrayed me. I forgave him when he called me back from Edom, but he betrayed me and he used me and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, I know that. Just like Clarissa and Jace and even Alec would do to you, if you weren’t always available whenever they beckoned, asking for so little in return.”

“You’re wrong. That would never happen.”

“It already has! How many times have you been there for them, but did even one of them see when you were struggling through yin fen withdrawal? You were all alone in it.” His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “I wanted to help you. It’s why I gave you the yin fen, to heal you. And why I came back, to help you overcome it when I realized how destructive it actually was for you.”

Izzy quivered with revulsion. “What was in that tincture you gave me?”

His lips curved softly and for a moment, he was the disarmingly gentle Sebastian who had come to her rescue that day in the infirmary. “Probably nothing. I found it in one of the mundanes’ organic markets. It’s supposed to enhance energy and focus.” He chuckled as if it was all a joke. “You were too glorious to be brought so low. Sometimes knowing someone else can do something remarkable makes it possible to do it yourself, don’t you think? Sebastian Verlac—he wasn’t so fortunate. He was still very much struggling when I located him, the last of Victor Aldertree’s victims. His addiction made it easy to keep him complacent in captivity, at least. Which is why I needed Camille.”

The dismissal of her struggle, and of someone who by all reports had once been a fine Shadowhunter, was infuriating. “I was doing fine until you laid your trap for me and got me bitten again! Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?”

“Because I had to become someone you would respond to. Not an adversary, like Aldertree. Someone who understood you. I had to show you; I can be there for you the way none of them ever have been. And if the tincture hadn’t worked for you, I found a way to make yin fen that doesn’t have the toxicity of so many of the warlock salves and powders with their enhancing agents. You could have bliss with far less danger.”

“You’re insane,” she breathed raggedly, but it was as if he didn’t even hear her.

“I know you miss Max. But I could be your brother. I could replace what I took from you.”

Bile rose in her throat. A flicker of shadow moved behind him and Izzy planted her hands on his shoulders.

“You could never replace Max,” she growled and thrust away with all her strength, pushing herself back so hard she slipped on the wet grass and fell. The force of her shove drove him into Clary’s blade. The glowing point emerged through the center of his chest. Clary wrenched her blade out of his back and he twisted to grab her by the throat.

“Always the traitor,” he hissed, lifting her off the ground and cutting off her air. Izzy rolled to her feet and caught the whip up off the ground, but before she could move in, Jace streaked past her, knocking Jonathan away and breaking his grip on Clary. The momentum of Jace’s charge sent them both flying down the bank. Izzy lashed out with the whip, catching Jace around the ankle where it was protected by his boot, stopping his fall while Jonathan plummeted into the creek.

He floated motionless as the water carried him away, no thrashing or flailing. His eyes stared blindly up into the night sky.

“Hail and farewell,” Izzy muttered, turning the hallowed words into a curse with her disdain.

Alec ran up to the edge of the steep bank and helped Jace scramble up.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing over at Izzy as Jace brushed himself off.

She found she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

Clary frowned. “You sure? That was…creepy. Finding out that Jonathan’s been fixated on you this whole time.”

“What?” Alec snapped, alarm sharpening his tone.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He was crazy. We got justice for Max. That what’s important.”

He looked at the water in irritation. “Damn. In half an hour he’s going to be in the East River and we don’t have time to fish him out and make sure he’s really dead. Come on. We’ve got to go, right now.”

“Why, what happened?” Clary asked, trotting to catch up as he pivoted and strode away.

“Valentine escaped into the faerie realms,” Jace explained, fast on Alec’s heels.

“And he has another spy in Idris who told him what the Mortal Mirror is,” Alec added grimly. “Which means if we don’t stop him, my husband and every other Downworlder in existence could be dead by this time tomorrow, and that’s not going to happen.”

Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “It won’t, Alec.”

Alec already had his phone out. “Luke, Valentine got around the warlocks’ wards by passing into Faerie. He knows where the Mirror is. Did you find Robert?” He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Is my mother alright? Okay. Listen, the Seelie Queen isn’t going to want to hear any petitions from me asking her to detain Valentine, but maybe she’ll listen to you, Raphael, and Magnus…”

Clary caught Izzy’s elbow gently, drawing her attention away from Alec’s conversation. “Izzy…Hey, what he said to you, about us not appreciating you. You know he was wrong, don’t you?”

“Of course.” It took a little too much effort to pull her mouth into a confident smile as she recalled those days of withdrawal the first time, alone in her room.

Did even one of them see when you were struggling?

“Nothing he was saying made any sort of sense,” Izzy continued, keeping her tone light. “I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”

It took effort to keep her face neutral, but finally Jace called Clary’s attention to something and she moved on, allowing Izzy to sag with relief.

She wanted a vampire bite so badly she thought she might burst into tears.

On to Chapter 25!

Please, if you’ve enjoyed this fanfic, consider buying some of my books, or buying me a cup of coffee!

[superflash-crypt]

HI ILYSM can you give me some Cisco smut pls lord. Like maybe he vibes you being hella naughty and giving yourself some love (wink wink) and then can't get the image out of his head and after a while he just like?? takes you?? pls and thank you ilysm xoxo 💕💕💕

yeS HELLO I FINALLY FINISHED A FIC ALSO HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO LONG??? IM SORRY IF ITS REALLY WORDY PLS ENJOY

Title: I Could Do It Better

Word Count: 3120

Vibing about his friends was a pretty common thing for Cisco, as it normally helped him with the problems they had with the meta-humans in the city. However, Cisco had never vibed something like this. He felt like he’d violated your personal life seeing you in this situation, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The way your face twisted with pleasure as your fingers glided over yourself knocked the wind out of him, he felt so hot, like he was in a sauna. He watched carefully as your hand gently groped your own breast, drawing a soft noise from you that made Cisco feel something deep in him awaken. How gently you were treating yourself, it was torture to him. He wanted to hear you. Just as your fingers slowly began to make their way to open your folds, giving him a glorious view of your mound, the vision ended.

“Hey Cisco? Did you find my jacket?” You called out to him when you walked into the lab, making the poor boy jump and drop the fabric he was holding. “U-Uh, yeah. Um, here. It was, uh, in here.” His cheeks were redder than Barry’s suit and he looked frantic. Picking up your jacket, Cisco handing you it and quickly made his way past you. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you put your jacket on and followed behind him. “So, are we still on for that movie tonight?” You asked, making him stop. “Y’know, I just remember I have something to do tonight, so I can’t” Raising a brow, you crossed your arms. “Really? What’s more important than going to see The 20th Anniversary of The Fifth Element in theaters?” You asked, obviously not believing his lie. Cisco scrambled for an excuse, he needed to clear his mind before he spent any time with you. “M-My, uh, my washing machine! It broke, so uh, the repair guy is coming to fix it tonight?” He suggested, making you let out a disappointed sigh. It was obvious he didn’t want to spend the night with you. “Alright, whatever. I’ll go see it myself, see if Iris wants to come see it with me or something.” And with that, you walked past Cisco and out of S.T.A.R labs.

After that day, it seemed like Cisco was avoiding you. He canceled any plans you guys had made and declined to come to any new ones. The only time you ever saw him was at the lab, which normally didn’t even last long as he couldn’t even look you in the eye during your conversations. He was jumpy around you, seemed embarrassed even. Not only did it confuse you, but you were also extremely hurt. You hadn’t told anyone about it, but you had a mad crush on Cisco. You hadn’t told anyone of course, as you knew that secrets between two people didn’t last long at S.T.A.R labs. For Cisco, on the other hand, looking at you was absolute torture. He couldn’t look at you without having those images pop into his head. Not that it was bad, I mean he really enjoyed the show but each time he looked at you all he thought about was ripping your clothes off and ravishing you. He’d decided to keep his distance so that wouldn’t happen. Cisco really liked you, but he was sure that you didn’t feel the same way.

The distance between the two of you was obvious, as both Iris and Barry had asked what happened to the two of you. You ended up telling them that you didn’t know, because you really didn’t. “Hey Caitlin, can you come with me to help carry the food here?” Barry asked, making her stand up and grab her sweater. “Yeah of course, you guys look out for any meta-human activities.” Caitlin gave an innocent smile, of course you knew exactly what they were doing. They wanted the two of you to work out whatever was going on between the two of you. Smiling back, you have a quick nod. “Gotcha.” Cisco replied awkwardly, and when the two of them left the silence in the cortex was more than awkward. It was uncomfortable, and it made you want to cry. What did you even do? Was it because you ate the last popsicle? You apologized for that! Taking a deep breath, you stood and sat down on the table near him. “Hey, uh, Cisco?” You grabbed his attention, he didn’t look to you though. “What’s up, Y/N?” His vision directed towards the screen in front of him. Biting your bottom lip, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, whatever I did, I just want to say I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I just…I’m really sorry. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.” Your voice cracked as you quickly wiped away the tears that were forming in your eyes.

This had definitely caught his full attention, causing Cisco to turn to you and see you wiping away your tears. Rolling over to you in his chair, Cisco panicked slightly. “Woah, woah. Y/N, I’m not angry with you, what made you think that?” He asked,  concern written all over him. You rolled your eyes at him, a hurt laugh leaving you. “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you can’t even hold a conversation with looking me in the eye! You’ve been avoiding me, and I didn’t know what to do other than think that I did something.” You sniffled softly, cheeks red in embarrassment. Cisco wanted to punch himself for making you hurt like this. Leaning back in his chair, Cisco let out a long sigh. “Y/N, you didn’t do anything. I…it was me who did something.” Raising an eyebrow, you tilted your head in confusion. “You…did something?”

Biting his bottom lip, Cisco let out another long sigh. “I…I vibed you. Well, I vibed your jacket and saw you.” You were even more confused, as it didn’t seem that bad. “Cisco, I don’t understand. What did you see that would make you want to distance yourself from me?” You asked, and his heart dropped. He really didn’t want to tell you. What if you were repulsed by him seeing you like that? “God damnit..” He paused, running a hand through his hair as he averted his gaze from you. “I saw you, uh, in a bit of an inappropriate situation.” It still hadn’t clicked, as your face still held an expression of confusion. “You were, um, how do I say? P-Pleasuring yourself?” The minute those words left his mouth, your jaw dropped in shock and your cheeks flourished with a red hue. “O-Oh god! Oh my god!” You gasped, causing him to look back at you finally. His cheeks were as red as yours, a guilty expression placed on his face. “I’m so sorry Y/N, literally I tried everything to look away and I just couldn’t.” Your body felt like it was on fire. He saw you giving yourself some good ol’ self love and couldn’t look away.

“C-Couldn’t?” You asked. Wasn’t he normally able to move or look away from something in a vision? “I..god, you were so beautiful Y/N. The expression, the noises you were making, fuck I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away” You felt like you were going to melt. He thought you were beautiful and he wanted to see you like that. Your heart felt like a hammer against your ribcage. Looking to him, you noticed he’d gotten out of his chair and was bow standing in front of you. You felt cornered as you couldn’t back up with how you were sitting on the table. It went silent for a moment, the only noise you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart. You had kept your gaze on the floor, however his shifting made you gather your courage and lift your eyes to look at his own. Cisco’s gaze had been on you the entire time, his brown eyes blown with obvious lust.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but his lips were on yours in an instant. It felt unreal, the way his hand gently cupped your cheek to pull you closer, the way his arm wrapped around your back possessively. Was this really happening? Eagerly you pressed back against his lips, and your heartbeat was thumping against your chest at a pace so quick, you thought it could even be faster than Barry. The kiss was passionate, full of intense longing with a hint of lust behind it. It didn’t last long though, the lack of air pulling the two of you away from each other. Silence had filled the air once more as Cisco leaned his forehead on yours, enjoying having you in his embrace. “Was that…good?” He asked with a hint of nervousness, drawing a breathy chuckle from your chest. “More than good, Cisco.” It was definitely more than good, and you wanted more.

He watched intently as you bit your bottom lip, a soft sigh leaving you. Your small action seemed to have made something in Cisco snap, because all he could do was mutter a strained ‘fuck’ before he was on you again. His lips captured yours in a greedy, lustful kiss as his hands scrambled to get rid of your shirt. He grunted with frustration as he fumbled over the buttons of your shirt, you were sure you felt a few pop off due to how rough he was being. You felt yourself being pushed back against the table you were sitting on as Cisco began to move his kissing from your lips to your neck, drawing small sighs. In a sudden haze of lust, you lifted your hips and ground against Cisco’s, drawing a guttural groan from him. You could already feel how hard he was through his restricting jeans.

Pulling away from you, he removed your shirt and threw it behind him. It didn’t take him long to unclip your bra and throw it in the same direction as your shirt. Wrapping your fingers around the belt loops of his pants, you pulled him closer as you quickly tugged at the hem of his shirt, removing it from his body. Cisco took his time to look over your exposed torso, noticeably swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Leaning forward, he latched his lips to your neck once again, however instead of kisses like you had expected he began to suck and bite at your neck. A sharp gasp rose from your chest at the first bite, however as he began to place more hickies along your neck and chest your small gasps soon turned into soft moans. “You’re so beautiful Y/N..” He murmured against your skin, and you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper.

He was wearing too much clothing, you were wearing too much clothing, there was just too much fabric and not enough skin. Moving your hands at a quick pace, you rushed your fingers over his belt buckle and struggled to unbuckle it and remove it. Once you’d finally gotten it undone, you unbuttoned his jeans and quickly shoved them down his legs. Cisco seemed to get the hint that you wanted no clothing on. Pulling back and inspecting his work with pride, Cisco shuffled out of his jeans and quickly removed yours. You were just in your panties now, and you wanted to kick yourself for not wearing anything cuter. However, this didn’t seem to bother him as he looked over your body with a loving gaze. “It’ll last longer if you take a picture.” You teased him with a light chuckle.

At that statement, a troubled look came over his face, making you raise an eyebrow. “Can I make an odd request?” He asked, shrugging softly you nodded. “Shoot.” Biting his bottom lip, he let out a sigh. “Could you maybe..touch yourself a little, maybe?” He asked, and you tried not to let the smirk crawling on your lips show. Leaning up from laying on the table, you let out another chuckle. “Cisco, are you asking me to recreate your vision?” You asked, and the poor boys face turned beet red. “Uh, maybe?” Before he could try to defend himself, you pulled your panties over your hips and down your legs. Throwing your panties somewhere onto the ground, you confidently spread your legs and displayed yourself to him. This caused an unexpected groan to leave him, his eyes trained on the scene in front of him. “Sit back and enjoy the show.” You said with a sarcastic tone, but in reality you were nervous. You’d never shown yourself to anyone like this, and you never thought it would be Cisco of all people.

Laying back down on the table, you gulped the forming saliva in your mouth and got to work. You started with running your fingers gingerly down your stomach, drawing a tingly feeling to your skin. You were slow with your actions, achingly slow. Cisco felt like he was in slow motion as he watched your fingers slowly reach your lower lips. The way you massaged your labia was breathtaking, and the minute that soft moan left your lips it was like anything that helped him think straight was thrown out the window. His eyes followed as your other hand ran up your sides and gently groped your breast, drawing a shuddered sigh from your lips. Just like his vision, you slowly opened your folds and pushed a finger in, groaning at the sensation. It had been a while, not too long, but long enough to make your body ache for more attention.

You didn’t realized Cisco had gotten closer until you felt your hand being torn away from your mound, a pleading whine leaving you as your body screamed at you for stopping. Your whine was cut short when he pressed his lips against yours, pulling you closer, you realized two things. The first thing was that he towered over you quite dominantly, making you aroused more. The second thing was that he’d removed his boxers because you could feel him pressing against your entrance. Wrapping your arms around him, you rolled your hips, as a way to tell him it was alright and that you wanted this. Cisco didn’t take any time as he slid into you with one quick motion, the stretch making you arch your back against him and moan against his lips.

He tried to start a slow and sensual pace, but with each thrust you could tell he was losing more and more control. Moving your lips from his, you began to place soft kisses up to his ear, letting out a couple of moans into his ear to spur him on. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me Cisco..” You whispered, your hair tangling itself in his hair to give a slight tug. Cisco let a low groan emit from his chest as he painfully gripped your hips and practically began to slam into you. It wasn’t long until a mix of your loud, whiny moans and his groans filled the cortex. The way he held onto you made your heart swell, and you couldn’t stop moaning his name. With each moan of his name, his thrusts got sloppier and harder.

Dragging your nails down his back, you ground your hips into his. You could feel your own orgasm coming, your stomach feeling tight and your toes were curling. You just needed a little push. “Fuck, Y/N!” It seemed that Cisco could tell you were close, as his groans got louder as you clenched around him. Moving his hand from your hips, he was quick to attach his thumb to your sensitive bud, rubbing zig zags and circles. The feeling made your entire body feel tingly, and your moans turned into whiny shouts of garbled words. With one particular thrust and one particular rub at your bud, it was like your walls came crumbling down. Your orgasm felt like rushing water, a long shriek of pleasure echoed throughout the cortex. Cisco’s own orgasm followed soon after as he let you ride out yours, quickly pulling out of you with a long groan as he released onto your stomach.

The room was silent, the only noise you could hear was the panting and gasps for air coming from the both of you. Leaning forward, Cisco placed a number of kisses on your lips before pulling away and helping you clean yourself up. You felt tired, sleepy even. As the two of you finished cleaning up and getting dressed, you cleared your throat, hoping to find something to say. The air was awkward, and you hated it. “Y’know next time you wanna watch me play with myself you could just ask.” You joked, drawing a chuckle from Cisco as he sat back in his seat. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He said with a sarcastic tone. It was quiet after that, and you couldn’t stop thinking about the time you two just spent. “Cisco, I uh-” You were cut off quickly by the sound of Barry and Caitlin, your cheeks immediately flourishing in a bright hue as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Hey guys! Anything happen while we were gone?” Barry asked, and you quickly shook your head. “Nope.” You quickly retorted. “Not a thing.” Cisco quickly added after. The two of them raised a brow as they looked at the two of you. “Well, anyways, we brought food.” You nodded, however before you could walk over to get any, Cisco pulled you aside. “You were going to say something?” He pressed, you bit your bottom lip and shrugged. “I was uh, just wondering if you wanted to come over later?” You asked, looking to him with a hopeful look in your eyes. The wide smile that broke on his lips cause you to bring one to yours as he nodded. “Yeah, sounds like fun.”

“I believe you owe me twenty bucks Mr. Allen.” Caitlin whispered to Barry as she stuck her hand out, and the speedster could only roll his eyes as he took out his wallet. “Yeah, yeah whatever. I didn’t think they’d do it in the cortex!” He said, scrunching his nose in disgust. “I’ll have to clean the table later.” He said as he handed her a twenty. Caitlin and Barry watched as you and Cisco conversed, unbeknownst to you that the blue and purple hickies that littered your neck were quite noticeable.

[nebulous-wanderings]

Yuri!!! on Ice Animation with MAPPA panel report

I had the chance to go to the MAPPA panel on Sunday at AnimeNEXT where they discussed some aspects of the production of Yuri!!! on Ice. In attendance were Junpei Tatenaka (lead figure skating animator), Noriko Ito (prop designer, lead animation supervisor), Takahiro Ogawa (animation producer), and Izumi Hirose (color designer). 

The panel was about an hour long and they brought actual (paper!) production drafts which they showed via a desk camera as well as reference pages and files which they showed via their laptop. Note that no pictures or recordings were allowed during the panel, but I took notes on what they presented and added some screenshots of my own to reference what they showed us. (There’s a lot to write about so sorry if transitions are too abrupt or non-existent between topics)

If you’re interested, read below the cut!

The panel started off by playing the History Maker OP animation (everyone was of course singing along) and then the four staff members were introduced. Ogawa said some opening statements about Yuri on Ice then handed it over to the other three staff members to present.

Noriko Ito - Prop Designer, Lead Animation Supervisor

Ito was the first person to present. She started by showing us pictures of the ice skates she designed. They used a real Japanese company’s ice skates (I forget the exact name of the company) as reference. She mentioned how the team had researched where certain scuff marks tend to appear on real figure skaters’ skates in order for the look of the characters’ skates to be as close to real life as possible. 

Next, Ito showed showed us drafts and final designs of Yuuri, Yurio, Viktor, Phichit, and the triplet’s phone cases. It was really cool to meet the woman who designed the iconic phone cases! One thing I didn’t know was that Yuuri’s phone case actually depicts his late dog, Vicchan, and not Viktor’s dog, Makkachin. The drafts were for Yuuri’s case had Vicchan in other poses, one with just his head as the icon, etc. Ito held up her own phone and showed us she had Yuuri’s phone case on when she showed us the final design. Ito said that she designed Yurio’s phone case with “yankee” in mind (of course). Viktor’s phone case was always planned to be his previous year’s FS costume but they had changed the costume design during production and she had to change her phone case design accordingly. For Phichit’s case, Ito said the only advice she got from the director of YOI, Yamamoto, was that he likes hamsters. The triplet’s phone case has the colors of the Russian flag and a posing Viktor on it.

Ito was also in charge of designing the infamous katsudon (I mean, I guess it is a prop after all lol). There were a lot of drafts for the katsudon, and the director had told her to “add more eros” into it as well as make the eggs “fluid like lava.” Various coloring techniques were used to make sure the eggs didn’t appear too under/overcooked. Ito said one time the office ordered delivery together for lunch and everyone ordered a katsudon - they couldn’t hold back after drawing so many delicious katsudons (lol).

Ito then showed us the design document for the Makkchin tissue box cover. She also brought the actual product with her and held it up - everyone simultaneously went “awwwww.” Next was the “Phichit on Ice” scene which Ito herself was solely in charge of. They played a clip of that scene from the bd/dvd version of the anime and Ito noted that what they changed from the TV airing was adding more glitter to everyone’s hats and that the elephant in the background now had sparkly eyes (lol). Director Yamamoto told her that Phichit likes Harajuku and to include hamster hats, so Ito kept that in mind. The front of Phichit’s costume in that scene says “Harajuku kawaii.” An earlier design of Phichit’s hat looked like an ice cream sundae but Yamamoto said to make it look more Thai instead. Lastly, Ito pulled up the magazine design that JJ holds in one of the episodes:

She confirmed that the other skater is indeed Yuzuru Hanyu and the director had chosen what his costume on the cover should look like. However, Ito had forgotten to draw it until the day of and so she rushed the design in order to finish. 

Izumi Hirose - Color Designer

Hirose mentioned how real skaters have the option of customizing what bolts to use on their skates (see example picture below).

You can see how some bolts are put in while other holes are empty depending on how the skater wants it to feel when they skate. Hirose showed us some reference sheets on the computer that showed each characters’ skates, and they all had different bolt patterns. (The bolt circles are either light or dark-colored to indicate that a bolt is or isn’t in). The reference sheet would be used by the animators so that whenever the bottom of a skate was shown, they would know which bolts would be in for each character and which would be out. Ogawa interjected and said that he had told director Yamamoto that he thought the customized bolt patterns were a bit too much (lol).

Hirose then showed us how the “blue and white” scenes were colored (that’s what the staff refer to these scenes as, “blue and whites”).

She flipped back and forth between shots of the regularly-colored scene and the blue and white scene to compare and contrast them. Director Yamamoto told her to make these scenes “milky,” and while the other designers were confused by what she meant by this because Hirose has worked with Yamamoto many times in the past, she knew exactly what she meant - this would happen on a number of other occasions too, according to Hirose (lol). Hirose also compared color options of Guang Hong and Georgi’s FS fantasy scenes.

For Guang Hong’s scene, they wanted it to look like a dark action movie with minimal colors.

For this shot of Georgi’s FS scene, Hirose showed us different color options for the girl’s lips and different levels of shading for Georgi’s face - they played around with how much of his face should be visible. Ogawa said his favorite character is Georgi (lol). There were like 5+ different color options for each scene Hirose showed us, and she mentioned that in Episode 1 there were over 140 color options in total for the ~40ish scenes in it. Because the director is the one that chooses the final design and colors for everything, Hirose asked Yamamoto if she could do less options but she said no.

For Yuuri’s exhibition skate, they were deciding between using a white undershirt (like Viktor originally had) or black undershirt and went with black.

Hirose then pulled up reference sheets for different characters’ outfits. She also said that outfits would change colors between episodes, even though the clothing design itself wouldn’t change, to make it seem like characters were wearing different clothes each day. Ogawa added that he once wore the same clothes for three days straight though since he was working in the office for that long and didn’t go home.

Hirose also showed us different shading options for Stéphane Lambiel’s ever-so-slight beard and mustache.

To make the main characters’ eyes stand out more, Hirose said they made the iris’ undertone the normal tone instead and used gradients in order to achieve that special effect. Yuuri has a brown-grey gradient, Yurio has a sky blue-green gradient, and Viktor has a two-toned blue gradient.

Junpei Tatenaka - Lead Figure Skating Animator

Last, but not least, was Tatenaka who started off by saying he was jetlagged and woke up at 3am that morning, and because he couldn’t sleep he just drew some stuff to present. (His 3am rough sketches shouldn’t even be called rough sketches, they were so good!) He drew ~10-15 frames of Yurio’s Welcome to the Madness exhibition program from a different angle (than what the actual BD/DVD animation has) and showed it to us flipbook-style - it was really cool!! Tatenaka then talked a bit about his background - he started out at Disney Japan doing TV programs.

Then, he emphasized the importance of hair and clothing flow during skating animations. He actually took his 3am rough sketches of WTTM and added more clothing detail to some of the frames right in front of us with a pencil and did a flipbook again to show the fluidity (this guy’s amazing). When he was done sketching, he said he never thought he’d be giving this kind of talk in America and that he might cry on the plane ride home (too pure T_T).

On the computer, he showed us the entire draft video of WTTM which was all of his hand-drawn keyframes timed correctly and with the background music. There was probably over 200 frames in total for the whole scene. Then they played the full, final version that came with the BD/DVD release (everyone “woo-ed” at the Otebek+glove part lol).

Closing Remarks

At this point, after all of the applause and positive reactions from the audience, Tatenaka was actually tearing up but managed to say a brief “thank you” message to everyone. Ito said she was initially worried about the number of people who would attend the panel since it’s an overseas audience, but was surprised at how packed it was and was really happy. Hirose commented that she loved seeing people’s YOI cosplays and will work hard on the upcoming movie. Ogawa ended by saying it was a tough series to work on during production, but after seeing both local and international responses and support, he and the rest of the staff - including everyone else at MAPPA - are glad that they were able to make this show.

All four of them stood up and bowed and the applause lasted a long while. I wish I was able to attend their Q&A and autograph session on Saturday but I was on duty at the Artist Alley. I did manage to get them to sign my program guide though, plus they slipped in some extra stuff. (See a pic here) I hope not just MAPPA and the YOI team specifically, but anime production staff in general, travel to more countries to spread their hard work and so they know the full extent of their show’s impact.

[lhugbereth]

Yakuza!Ignis update!

‘Sup, guys! Here’s a peek at the first part of Chapter 2 of this crazy yakuza AU business - in which Boss Regis the Silver-Fox holds a meeting with lots of familiar faces, and Ignis causes a scene. Sorry not sorry that Cor is kind of an asshole. Maybe he’ll get better, maybe not lol. (I’d say read under the cut, but I can’t add cuts via mobile so sorry for spamming everyone’s dash! I also can’t add formatting or literally anything else… *flips Tumblr the bird*)

Death Fears Not the Reaper Chapter Two: Unraveling

Cor Leonis was waiting for them the moment they stepped into the boardroom. Most of the other high-ups were already there: Clarus Amicitia, Weskham Armaugh, even Cid the Saw Sophiar had apparently been called in to discuss matters of grave importance. Only Lord Regis himself was absent at the head of the table – not surprising, Ignis mused. After all, a true boss never arrived early for a meeting; it was the meeting that began when the boss arrived.

He was distracted from his thoughts as Cor suddenly stepped forward and placed his body between the two newcomers and the room beyond. “Well?” he asked expectantly, voice hushed but cold eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Since you both look like shit, I’ll assume you put your night to good use. What news?”

Ignis exchanged a look with Gladio beside him. The bodyguard was very obviously fighting back a yawn. Only natural, he thought, for they had in fact spent the better part of the last seven hours out playing detective around the city. Yet for all the missed sleep, their efforts had turned up little more than a crackpot theory and a shaky lead. Even those would have eluded them had it not been for some help from Gladio’s hacker of a little sister.

But Cor was waiting for something, and Ignis happened to be the one under his scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t have a head on a platter for you yet, if that’s what you mean. But I can tell you that our mystery murderer was most likely a lone rogue,” he said matter-of-factly. Cor leaned in closer, teeth bared much like the beast of his namesake. “Are you saying one man is responsible for killing three armed Glaives without so much as a fight? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Hardly,” Ignis shrugged, clearly unmoved. “And neither is Regis. I can prove I’m right.” “Just trust us on this one, old man,” came Gladio’s gruff voice at his side. Cor bristled – the kid’s abrasive attitude and contempt for authority had never sat right with him – but the three were spared further words as the far doors slid open and Regis Caelum entered the hall.

The room fell silent. Gladio tugged Ignis toward their open seats at the table, and as their boss strode forward all heads dropped in a collective bow. Regis surveyed the scene for a moment. His steel-blue eyes were hard, his mouth set in a tight line above his greying beard. He held a cane in his left hand, carved of ebony stone and set with a silver knob, which he leaned on as he made his way to his seat at the head of the large conference table. On his right hand, plain for all to see, he wore the Ring of the Lucii, the symbol of his family’s power and of his authority over all who hung their heads before him. “Gentlemen,” he began, and his voice boomed strong and healthy through the hall. “Non enim dormiunt!” “Insomnia Immortalis!”

Amidst the chorus of voices he took his seat, and the meeting began.

“My Lord.” It was Weskham, Regis’ closest advisor, who stood first and bowed his respects to their oyabun. “We all know why you’ve called us here today.”

“I don’t,” Cid muttered next to him, but Weskham smoothly ignored the comment as he continued.

“I think the question now is, was this attack a precursor for a greater battle ahead? And if so, how quickly do we strike back?” Regis scanned the faces around the table until he found the head of the organization’s intel operations. “Cor. Report.”

The Immortal Lion got to his feet and bowed deeply. “My Lord. At this time, we know very little about the purpose of the attack, nor do we have evidence of the killer’s identity.” He flicked his gaze across the table to where Ignis sat, calm and almost eerily patient despite the tension building in the room. “But I believe those two have some…speculations.”

As Ignis and Gladiolus got to their feet and bowed, all eyes in the room turned to watch them. Hushed whispers hummed on the air. The Reaper and the Shield? Was Cor mad to leave this matter in such reckless hands? But Regis merely gestured for silence as Ignis began to speak.

“This attack was neither the work of a rival clan, nor was it a declaration of war in any form we can yet comprehend.” He adjusted his glasses and waited for silence again. “Consider this: there are only two families with any possible motive to see the Caelum line destroyed – the Nox Fleurets, and the Nifelheims. The former has suffered inner turmoil for years, and have only recently chosen a new leader. Ravus may be young and headstrong, but violence is hardly his style.”

Around the table, several heads nodded in agreement. Gladio watched, mouth curling in a smirk, as even Cor seemed to be soaking it in. Ignis continued. “That leaves the Niffs. Our greatest rivals, that is true, and even one like myself considers them sadistic to the core. My Lord, I believe you’ve experienced firsthand just how brutal they can be in a fight?”

Regis gripped his cane tight, his fist shaking around the silver knob as he nodded his head. “Ruthless. Violent, mindless beasts.” “Street punks,” Ignis agreed. “Without grace or tact or, most of all, fear of repercussions. But as we know, our men were murdered by someone who clearly didn’t want to get caught, at least not yet.”

Ever sharp, Clarus raised an eyebrow at both Ignis and his son next to him. “You say ‘someone’ like you think a single person was capable of this act.”

“That’s right.”

Again, muttered voices swept the hall until Regis held up a hand to silence them all at once. “Go on, Ignis.”

“My Lord,” he said, bowing again. “The proof is in the nature of the murder itself. A group of Nifelheim thugs, even in significant numbers, would have a hard time taking out three of ours without at least drawing a scene. No, this attack was planned, calculated. And whoever did it, did it alone. With one….clean…slice.”

No one had seen him draw his dagger, but suddenly it was in his hand and arching through the air, thudding down on the table in front of him in the span of a heartbeat. The blade sunk several inches into hard wood, and the room fell deathly silent. Even Gladio flinched at that one.

“Easy there, Iggy,” he said, putting on a thin smile and patting the other’s shoulder in a light-hearted gesture. “Uh, I think what Ignis is trying to say is that we found a lead.”

The only one in the room unphased by the Reaper’s outburst, Regis now turned his attention to the dark-haired son of his most trusted warrior. “Well, that’s certainly promising. Who is he?”

“She,” Gladio corrected, and drew a folded sheet of paper from the front pocket of his leather jacket. He passed this along the table until it reached their boss’ hands. “Name’s Highwind. She’s an ex-merc with a bad reputation for dirty jobs. That right there is just a sample of her ‘resume,’” he said, gesturing to the list Regis was now unfolding to read. “Not only does her profile fit, but we had Iris do a little digging last night. Turns out this Highwind character disappeared off the radar several months back – now the rumor is she’s accepting her paychecks directly from Aldercapt himself.”

“So the Niffs are behind this!” Weskham growled, slamming his fist on the table before him. “Regis, if this is true – “

“We can’t be certain, not yet.” The news seemed to weigh heavily with the oyabun, who ran his fingers back through grey locks and released a sigh. Mercenaries were notoriously untrustworthy, and it was hard to believe Iedolas, old and daft as he was, would stoop so low. Then again, if the woman had been acting alone….

Alas, mere speculation, however convincing, was hardly justification to jump into a hasty war. “Nyx,” he called, and the young, bright-eyed leader of the Glaives snapped to attention. “Do what you must to bring her in. Use caution, avoid conflict if you can.”

“You got it, boss.” Nyx bowed and nodded at several faces around the table in silent understanding.

“And Cor. Until we have real proof, the search continues. This continues to be your top priority.”

“My Lord.”

“Ignis. Gladiolus. Your work has been invaluable. Now please,” he said, and for the first time the corner of his mouth turned up in an almost-smile. “Both of you get some rest. You look like hell.”

———