#also.. its so pathetic how many of them are clearly just searching posts with the word terf in it and trying to pick fights

[eileennatural]

what i love about online is i dont have to argue or debate anyone. if someone pisses you off you can literally just make them go away and never think about them again.

[avnkin]

Shake On It [ 2 ]

Author’s note: I was really in my harry feels whilst writing this so sorry about that lmao also I proofread this so many times and it still SUCKS ASS. I posted this entire thing earlier from my phone but tumblr deleted everything except the title so yeah I’m sorry if there aren’t italics and bolds on some of the words where they should be but i’m just to lazy to go through the entire thing and find them all again, maybe i’ll do it later but who knows. I do not own harry potter or the storyline/characters they are the intellectual property of J.K Rowling. (not my gif)

Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: There’s little to nothing Draco values more than his reputation so when he sees it slipping, he’ll do anything in his power to catch it.

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader / Platonic!Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, foul language, asshole!draco and daddy issues lol

This is an AU so all the information doesn’t exactly line up with the HP storyline for example Voldemort hasn’t returned but still exists so little from Harry’s history changes but Dumbledore’s still alive.

After yours and Draco’s interaction the other night you’d strongly begun reconsidering his offer to accompany him to the ball, maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought, I mean what’s the worst that could happen? So many things your anxiety was quick to answer, the most important one being that Harry and Ron would probably never speak to you again.

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” Hermione’s voice snapped you out of your trance, her blurry hand waving in front of your face, you quickly began blinking in an attempt to bring your surroundings back into focus, “sorry” you then muttered sending her an apologetic smile before gesturing for her to continue with whatever she’d been talking about.

“As I was saying, I need a cute date for the ball, who do you think will annoy Ron the most?” you were about to answer when a voice from behind you beat you to it.

“Annoy who the most?”

You rolled your eyes having a pretty clear idea of who it was, you reluctantly turned around your eyes immediately locking onto Draco’s who stood there in all his glory a smug smile plastered onto his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me who invited you to this conversation?” you retorted before turning back to Hermione who had an amused grin on her face causing you to lightly kick her from underneath the table, you didn’t want Draco putting two and two together and realizing you’d talked about him with Hermione.

“I was just wondering if you’d changed your mind about going with me to the ball” Draco cajoled causing your eyes to widen realizing you still hadn’t told Hermione about the fact he’d asked you in the first place.

You sent Hermione an an ‘i’ll tell you later’ look before twisting your body to face Draco’s who now had his hands placed in his robe pockets, his self assurance radiating off of him despite the fact you’d rejected him only days before, the boy had clearly never been told ‘no’ his entire life.

“No and I won’t be, so run along” you stated before making a shooing gesture with your hand which only seemed to have the opposite effect you’d intended it too, since he began to take a few steps forward, licking his lips as he looked you up and down.

“Yes you will” he stated matter of factly and it took all self control you had not to smack him right across the face, who did he think he was?

“Is it really that hard to get it into that tiny little brain of yours that there are girls alive who don’t like you” you practically growled missing how Hermione’s attention had drifted away from the scene unfolding before her and to the two figures who had begun making their way towards you.

“Yes because there aren’t an-”

“Malfoy find someone else to bother can’t you see she’s not interested” Harry cut him off as him and Ron now fully came into view, the two of them standing tall behind Draco whose attention had now shifted from you to them.

“Oh look who it is, dumb and dumber” chortles could be heard from the Slytherin table at Draco’s words causing you to roll your eyes, it was pathetic how they would lick up every single thing he did.

“Offers still there Y/L/N” Draco turned to you before he slowly started to ascend back towards the Slytherin table where he was greeted with numerous pats on the back as he squeezed himself in between Crabbe and Goyle.

“What a slimy git” Ron huffed as he took the seat next to yours, immediately beginning to scoop all the food in view onto his plate.

“What did he want anyways?” Harry asked resting his elbows on the wooden house table as he sat down opposite you.

“He asked if I wanted to go to the ball with him” you feigned disgust as you shook your head, hoping he would drop the subject, you’d never been a good liar and if anyone could see through you it would surely be your best friend.

“Just tell him you’re going with me if he asks again, then he’ll leave you alone” Harry suggested, Ron nodding along with him as he stuffed a chicken wing into his mouth.

“Yeah- yeah ‘course thank you Harry” you scratched the back of your head cringing at the obvious hint of disappointment lingering in your words which thankfully no one but Hermione seemed to notice since she reached her hand out across the table and laid it gently atop of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You gave her a small smile before your eyes began dancing around the Great Hall somehow coming to a halt on Draco’s figure, he had his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he engaged in conversation with Blaise.

No one could say that Draco Malfoy wasn’t handsome, rude and a prat? Sure, but unattractive no. He was the only boy you’d ever seen who was able to pull of such a hair color and as your eyes travelled along his sharp jawline up to his chiseled cheekbones you felt the uncontrollable feeling of heat rush up to your face as his eyes met yours.

He sent you a wink before turning back around, you mirroring his actions the feeling of butterflies swarming your stomach slowly melting away as you pushed any remaining thoughts of him aside.

-

The ball was only a few days from now and you and Hermione had decided to take a trip down to Hogsmeade in an attempt to shop for dresses, not wanting to repeat what had happened last year when you both had made the mistake of trusting your parents with your attires, the dresses they’d choosen had arrived the same night as the ball and you had been forced to show up in matching bright pink gowns since it had been too late to go and buy new ones. You’d been the laughing stocks off the school for a couple months after that, never again.

You cringed at the memory that would surely be edged into your mind forever but as you pushed open the wooden door that led into Gladrags Wizardwear you found yourself entranced with all the beautiful dresses littered around the shop.

“Have you decided who you’re gonna go to the ball with?” Hermione hummed as her fingers trailed over a blue gown that hung along with hundreds of others at the front of the store.

“Yeah I think I’m just gonna go with Harry, I don’t want to risk my friendship with either him or Ron by going with Draco” you sighed not feeling the need to hide your disappointment in front of her.

“I get that but if you really do like Malfoy you should just ease Harry and Ron into the idea of you two being together” Hermione shrugged in response before removing the dress she’d been looking at from its hanger and placing it into her arms as you continued browsing.

“How am I supposed to do that you know how much they hate him” you sighed as you lightly dragged your hand over the multiple fabrics that hung on the clothing rag next to you.

“You could dance with him at the ball” Hermione suggested, you nodded silently in agreement before coming to an abrupt halt as a certain dress caught your eye. It was champagne colored and made out of silk with a thigh high split running down the side of it, not the type of dress you’d usually go for but nevertheless you carefully placed it into your arms deciding their was no harm in seeing how it looked on you.

“Who are you going with?” you changed the subject not feeling like talking about Draco anymore, it was really killing your mood.

“Hero Finnigan asked me” your eyes widened at Hermione’s words. Hero Finnigan was in the year above you and was quite the heartthrob around school, he’d been known for having a new girl underneath his arm every week and it seemed that this time around it was going to be Hermione, much to your surprise.

“Please tell me you said yes, if anyone’s going to make Ron jealous it’s definitely him” you assured her, looping your arm with hers as you continued skimming through the store.

“Of course I said yes, I’m not that daft” she shook her head before continuing, “I don’t know though I-I guess I was just hoping that in the end Ron would ask me, but apparently he’s going with Lavender” her nose scrunched up at the mere mention of her name as she let out a heavy sigh.

Your heart ached for your best friend as you put an arm around her shoulder giving her a tight side hug, a subtle way of letting her know you were there for her no matter what.

“Enough about that let’s go try on our dresses and we can tell each other what we think” Hermione was obviously trying to distract herself but you didn’t feel like pressing the subject any further so you only nodded in agreement as you started searching for the changing rooms, it was a surprisingly big shop compared to how small it had appeared from the outside.

Once you’d finally found them at the far end of the shop you both entered separate rooms, simultaneously pulling the curtains shut shielding you from the watchful eyes of the other customers, although there weren’t that many.

You took one last look at the dress letting your fingers wander down the silky fabric before carefully removing it from its hanger and slipping your legs in between the opening.

Once you got it on, you weren’t able to reach the zipper on the back, no matter how hard you tried so you stealthily peeked your head out behind the curtain and seeing no one you began to make your way towards Hermione’s changing room hoping she could be of some assistance.

“Need some help with that?” a voice stopped you dead in your tracks, swiftly turning to see Draco standing there, a mischievous smirk resting on his lips as he took a step closer to you.

“Are you stalking me or something?” you shook your head, furrowing your brows once you noticed how his eyes weren’t meeting yours, instead they were trailing up and down your body, devouring every inch of you.

“Eyes up here Malfoy” you teased which made him finally look up at you, but instead of replying with a snide comment of his own he threw the suit he’d been holding onto a clothing rag nearby and slowly began to stride towards you.

You weren’t able to get a word out as he tenderly placed his ring clad fingers on top of your bare shoulders scanning your face for approval witch you granted by carefully nodding your head taking in a deep breath as you felt him begin to slowly turn you around.

You shivered once the cold metal wrapped around his fingers began to run down your arms, his fingertips then gently dancing down the small of your back in a painfully teasing manner.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy sigh as he took a step closer to you his lips ghosting over your ear as he began to pull the zipper upwards causing you to almost involuntarily lean into him. As soon as you did his scent consumed you, he smelled of expensive cologne and spearmint, even better than you could have ever imagined.

He stopped as the zip reached the bottom strands of your hair, he thought for a moment before he carefully wrapped his hand around your h/c locks, twisting them gently around his fingers before letting them fall over the side of your shoulder, the tips of his fingers ever so slightly running across the side of your neck as he moved them back down to where he’d stopped.

You gently tilted your head, closing your eyes in content once you felt his hot breath fan over your neck, you leaned your head back at the sensation resting it atop of Draco’s shoulder, shivering once you felt his lips ghost over the sweet spot just behind your ear, one of his arms finding your waist as the other continued to work its way up your back.

Once you heard the faint sound of the zipper click as it reached its closing you slowly opened your eyes feeling him take an impossible step closer to you, your behind now pressed into his front as he trailed his hands down to your hips.

“You clean up quite nice Y/L/N” he breathed out as he began running his hands up to your stomach before finally reaching your waist where they abruptly stopped so that he could turn you back around, you let out a gasp at the sudden forced movement your hands clinging onto his shoulders to prevent you from falling.

You opened your mouth but no words came out as you were consumed by the feeling of his fingers digging into your sides, his lips mere centimeters from yours you almost unknowingly began to lean in.

He mirrored your movements but just before your lips could meet someone cleared their throat from behind you causing you to jump away from him, frowning at the sudden loss of contact.

Once your eyes met Hermione’s you quickly cleared your throat acting as if nothing had (almost) happened, she raised an eyebrow obviously confused at the scene unfolding before her.

You turned back towards Draco who was looking at you almost expectantly, “I’m going with Harry to the ball” you suddenly felt the need to tell him, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea from the little moment you had just shared.

“Potter seriously?” Draco scoffed in return before making his way around you and Hermione, your eyes following his figure and as soon as he was completely out of sight you finally felt like you could breath again, staggering backwards into Hermione who quickly put her arms up to catch you.

“Oh I’m in trouble”

-

You’d decided to buy the dress you’d tried on in the store, even though every time you put it on you couldn’t shake away the feeling of Draco being pressed against you as his lips hovered dangerously close to your neck.... You shook your head in hopes that it would toss the memory out of your mind, you couldn’t be thinking about Draco right now, not when Harry was standing just outside the Gryffindor common room patiently waiting for you to get ready.

“Can you zip me up?” you turned your back to Hermione who quickly rushed to your side swiftly beginning to pull the zipper on the back of your dress upwards. As you closed your eyes you got momentary flashes off Draco’s ring clad fingers wrapped around your body and you tried with all your might to shake the tingling feeling you got away, but nothing seemed to be working.

“Okay do a little spin for me” you let out a laugh at Hermione’s words but nevertheless you began spinning around your dorm playfully, letting your hair fall across your shoulders as Hermione threw her head back in laughter.

“You look incredible” she complemented as you engulfed each other in tight hugs mentally preparing yourselves for the night ahead.

“Oh please, I’m nothing compared to you” you stated linking your arms together before the two of you began to make your way to your awaiting dates.

Once the door to the Gryffindor common room opened the first thing you saw was Harry engaged in conversation with Hero, you could tell by his uncomfortable shuffling that the exchange had been awkward causing you to let out a small giggle which captured the attention of the two boys.

Harry’s mouth hung open as he let his eyes wander all over you, from the thigh-high front split on the front of your dress to your flawless makeup and perfectly styled hair, he was speechless, if you two weren’t best friends he’d probably be tripping over his own two feet by now.

“Well this is certainly an upgrade from last year” Harry let out a teasing laugh as he bowed down to take your hand in his.

“Oh shut up” you feigned annoyance as you stood beside him, feeling goosebumps run up your arms as his hand came to rest on your lower back, leading the two of you towards the Great Hall.

“In all seriousness Y/N, you look amazing” Harry gushed as he pulled you into his side. An uncontrollable blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words as you let your head fall on his shoulder.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Potter” you teased, the two of you letting out simultaneous fits of laughter as you followed closely behind Hero and Hermione.

After a moment of silence Harry suddenly spoke out, “Ron was going to ask her you know” the two of you shared knowing glances at his words, it was so painfully obvious that your other two best friends were head over heels in love with each other but neither of them dared to make the first move, either to scared of being rejected or ruining their many years worth of friendship.

“Figures” you shrugged a comfortable silence overtaking you as you walked over to one of the many rows of couples stood in front of the entrance leading into the Great Hall.

As the doors begun to open you excitedly smiled up at Harry but before you were able to move forward another couple had harshly pushed their way in front of you and you were immediately able to identify the mob of platinum blond hair.

“Excuse me” you rolled your eyes causing the two of them to turn their heads towards you, you couldn’t hold in your scoff once you saw who he’d decided to bring, Pansy Parkinson of all the people in this bloody school.

“Don’t start anything Malfoy” Harry warned before either of them were able to get a word out, it looked like Pansy was going to throw a snide comment your way but stopped as soon as her eyes met Draco’s, she let out a huff before reluctantly turning back around.

“You look dashing” Draco complimented, you could feel Harry tense up beside you and you snaked an arm around his waist in an attempt to calm him down, the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene.

“Shouldn’t you be telling that to your date?” you retorted gesturing towards Pansy who seemed to be strangely quiet, usually she couldn’t keep her mouth shut no matter the circumstance, but you weren’t complaining.

Draco didn’t respond instead he just shrugged his shoulders before turning back around his arm slipping down towards Pansy’s lower back, you felt the inkling feeling of jealousy begin to form inside you but you forced yourself to push it away giving Harry’s bicep a reassuring squeeze knowing it had taken all his might not to hex Draco then and there.

As soon as Draco and Pansy had left you two be you quickly pulled Harry along with you into the hall so you wouldn’t get trampled by the entourage of students crowded behind you who were also squeezing their way through the double doors.

You intertwined your fingers with Harry’s as you took in your surroundings. It looked even better than last year, snow was falling from the starry black ceiling stopping just a few feet above you, mistletoe’s and every traditional Christmas decoration you could think of were littered all across the hall and instead of the usual house tables there were hundreds of smaller silver ones, each having it’s own floating candle above them.

Once you spotted a decent place to sit you tugged onto Harry’s arm gesturing for him to follow you towards the table your eyes were set on, somehow along the way you managed to spot Hermione and you threw your arm up gesturing for her hand Hero to come sit with you and Harry.

It wasn’t long until the chair beside you was being pulled from underneath the table and Hermione placed her self atop of it along with Hero, you happily greeted both of them but all joy inside you seemed to fade away once you noticed Ron and Lavender heading your way.

Oh please no

Ron placed a chaste kiss on Lavender’s cheek as he pointed towards your table.

Don’t sit here

Lavender eagerly began to nod following behind Ron as they inched closer and closer.

Anywhere but here

Despite your silent praying Ron was now pulling a chair out for Lavender before taking a seat himself and as soon as he did an awkward tension filled the air. You grabbed Hermione’s hand from underneath the table giving it a reassuring squeeze noticing how she’d tensed up once Lavender had bitterly greeted her.

“Whose this then?” Ron could be heard from the other end of the table, you rolled your eyes at his tone, how did Hermione not realize he was jealous hell even Hero seemed to notice it as his eyes uncomfortably shifted between Hermione’s angered expression and Ron’s annoyed one.

“Hero Finnigan, and you?” he reached his hand out over the table and for a split moment your eyes had widened thinking Ron was actually going to sit there and ignore him but thankfully the ginger haired boy reluctantly reached over the table and connected his hand with Hero’s.

“Ron, Ron Weasely”

“Weasely, eh? could have guessed, I’m good friends with your brothers” Hero attempted to make conversation but Ron didn’t seem all to keen on it only muttering a “whatever” underneath his breath causing you to kick him from underneath the table, you gave him a warning glance to which he replied by throwing a small ‘piss off’ in your direction.

Before you could begin to scold him for his rude behaviour Dumbledore’s voice tore throughout the Great Hall preventing you from doing so although you had a feeling that if it hadn’t had been him it probably would have been Harry.

“Welcome students to our annual Jingle Ball, may I say you all look wonderful tonight” Dumbledore gingerly smiled, his wand lightly pressed against the side of his neck as he gestured towards the numerous students all dressed in their finest attires.

“We’ll start the evening with a three course meal prepared by our lovely house elves” claps begun to sound around the Great Hall which you quickly joined in on, smiling brightly once you noticed the numerous elves clumsily standing up from their seats and waving at the students.

“Once you’ve finished eating a band will be preforming for us and I hope that you and your dates will be joining me and McGonagall on the dance floor” laughter sounded around the hall at the last part of his sentence but instead of joining in like you usually would you found yourself draining out all noise as your eyes met Draco’s.

He’d already been looking your way and you couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips as his icy grey eyes burned through yours, you felt like there was some type of force drawing you to him and you couldn’t do anything about it, even though your head was screaming at you that shouldn’t be developing feelings for someone as arrogant and cruel as Draco Malfoy your heart seemed to be having trouble following.

-

Once everyone had finished eating you were eager to get away from your table, somehow Hero and Ron had begun a full blown argument which you and Hermione had to quickly shut down by asking Lavender to take Ron somewhere else until he’d calm down, that boy could not control his temper if his life depended on it.

You’d managed to cheer Hermione up after the entire ordeal telling her that she should focus on herself for once and have fun, thankfully she’d listened and you couldn’t help the giddy expression overtaking your facial features as you watched her and Hero sway together on the dance floor.

“Care to dance M’ lady” Harry merrily bowed down in front of you reaching his hand out towards yours, you placed a hand on your chest in feigned surprise before gently laying your hand in Harry’s palm.

“Why, I would be delighted to” you attempted a posh accent unable to contain the giggle that fell past your lips as you let Harry lead you to the dance floor.

As soon as his arm had wrapped around your waist and the other intertwined with your hand another slow song began playing, most of the students were still digesting their food so their weren’t many on the dance floor, it was only you and Harry, Hero and Hermione and about six other couples.

You leaned your head on Harry’s chest letting him slowly sway you to the soothing melody of the song. “You know I love you right?” Harry mumbled as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I love you too, silly” you brightly smiled up at him, you both knew there weren’t harbored feelings for the other hidden behind those three words so you had no trouble voicing it to each other.

You tightly wrapped your arms around his waist continuing to slowly move around the dance floor. You knew how hard his life had been leading up to this point, losing his family, Sirius, and then Cedric he always had the inkling fear that one day he’d lose you or Ron or Hermione so you wanted to make sure he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

Sometimes silence speaks louder than words and you knew you were saying everything you needed just by being there with him, it felt like hours that you’d stayed that way wrapped in each others arms but soon students begun to make their way to the dance floor so you and Harry decided to take a short break, heading hand in hand back towards your table.

-

Unbeknownst to you whilst you and Harry had been in your own world gently dancing with each other for all eyes to see, Draco had been enduring pure torture over at his table.

“I can’t believe she choose Potter over you”

“That’s gotta sting”

“How’s it feel being the second choice”

“Hope you’re ready to do my homework for the rest of the year”

Was all he had heard for the last hour as he’d watched you and Harry dance with one another. No matter the threats he threw their way and menacing looks they just wouldn’t stop, he felt as if his power of being crowned the Slytherin prince was slipping away from him, since in his world losing to someone like Harry Potter was as low as you could get.

Then and there Draco decided he wasn’t going to endure it anymore he was making his move tonight no matter the circumstance.

-

“You know Ginny’s been eyeing you all night” you wiggled your eyebrows nudging Harry’s shoulder who awkwardly began shifting in his seat as he mumbled a ‘really’ in response to which you nodded.

“Go ask her too dance!” you stood up so you could force him out of his seat along with you, you subtly pointed towards Ginny’s direction who had swiftly looked away as soon as her eyes had met Harry’s.

“But what about you?” Harry frowned realizing you didn’t have anyone to spend time with if he’d leave since both Hermione and Ron seemed to be preoccupied with their dates.

“Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine! now go” you ushered him forward giving him a reassuring thumbs up as he began to walk towards her.

“You’re quite the matchmaker aren’t you?” Hermione had suddenly walked up behind you and you both watched in amusement as Harry almost fell over twice before he was able to reach Ginny who had happily agreed to dance with him.

“Where’s Hero?” you asked as you turned to face Hermione eyes wandering around the hall in an attempt to spot her date, “oh he’s just gone to get us some drinks, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like” Hermione offered but you shook your head.

“No its okay honestly I’m fine” you assured her, you did not want to spend the evening third wheeling your best friend and her date.

Hermione began opening her mouth surely to convince you to join them but stopped once her eyes landed on something behind you or rather someone behind you.

“Care to dance?”

You swiftly turned around to see Draco with his hand reaching out towards you, you tried your best to contain the smile that was so desperately gnawing at the sides of your mouth as you turned back to Hermione who was giving you knowing smile.

“Find me if you need anything alright?” you eagerly nodded at her words only turning back to Draco once Hermione had fully vanished into the crowd.

“One dance, that’s it” you attempted to sound serious but it came off in a more teasing manner as you let your hand fall into Draco’s.

“Agreed”

As soon as you’d reached the middle of the dance floor, Draco’s arm had snaked around your waist pulling you into him whilst the other intertwined your fingers. You let out a giggle as he began twirling you around, gracefully catching you back in his arms as both his hands moved to rest on your lower back.

“You’re quite the dancer” you complimented, without a doubt boosting Draco’s already large ego, “I know” he had replied with a knowing smirk, twirling you around one last time before pulling you flush up against him your noses bumping together since you’d already been looking up at him. You’d held the eye contact for a minute as you brightly smiled at each other before you gently let your chin rest on his shoulder as he slowly began swaying you from side to side.

As your eyes began dancing over the students you didn’t think anything could burst your happy bubble until your eyes found Harry’s who had a look of disappointment edged onto his features as he pulled away from Ginny who had frowned at his sudden dismissal as she watched him begin to make his way out of the Great Hall.

You cleared your throat as you uncomfortably began shuffling away from Draco who gave you a look of confusion as he watched you pull your hand out of his and back away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I can’t do this” you muttered before hurriedly turning around and squeezing your way through the crowd of students all huddled together on the dance floor, most of them giving you annoyed glances as you pushed them out of the way but you didn’t care all you wanted to do was find Harry. You couldn’t imagine how he’d felt once he saw you his best friend, dancing with someone who’d made his life a living hell ever since the first year.

Once you’d exited the Great Hall you frantically began looking around the empty corridors in an attempt to find Harry who’d stormed out here only moments ago.

“Y/N!” you heard Draco call from behind you but you ignored him, picking up your pace once you heard his nearing footsteps echoing around the empty hallways.

“Y/N please wait” you felt him grab ahold of your wrist swiftly turning you back to face him, his grip only tightening as you began attempting to pull your hand away.

“No! You can’t treat my friends like shit and then expect me to give in on whatever the hell you’re trying to do” you finally managed to rip your hand out of his grasp as you turned back around but he quickly ran in front of you placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“Listen I’m sorry alright, bloody hell I just- I can’t stop thinking about you I don’t know how to explain it but I think I might-” he cut himself off hesitating to speak his next words unsure of how you’d react since he didn’t want to return to his friends with yet another failed attempt.

“You think you might what?” you crossed your arms over your chest glaring up at him as you watched his mouth open and close again.

“Fancy you” he finally let out, your eyes widening as you let your hands fall down to your hips. You took a few steps back until you couldn’t move any further the tall walls of the castle preventing you from doing so.

“You what?” you barely whispered and Draco took that as his chance to walk towards you placing both his hands on the wall next to you.

As you looked back up at him he slowly started to remove one hand from the wall so he could place it onto your cheek and just like he’d done in the store, he began leaning in until his lips were barely hovering above yours, you so desperately wanted to close the gap between you but a part of you was screaming to push him away and never look back, but as your eyes met his once more you couldn’t bring yourself to do it your heart taking control as he pressed his lips against your own.

Your lips continued dancing with each other at a normal pace until he’d moved to deepen the kiss swiftly wrapping his arms around your waist so you were able to loop yours around his neck, he pushed you even tighter up against the wall causing you to let out a gasp allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You ran your fingers through his hair gently pulling on the strands on the back of his head before letting your head fall to the side as he began leaving kisses down your neck his hands trailing down your sides until they wrapped around your hips pulling you even further into him.

You gently blinked your eyes open as you pulled away from him, your lips undoubtedly swollen and your lipstick smeared but you didn’t care.

“No one can know about this, not until I talk to Harry” you breathed out leaning your forehead against his as you attempted to slow your heart rate by taking deep breaths in and out.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone” he lied, he’d gotten quite good at that after having to continuously lie to his father ever since he was a child, one particular incident that he would never forget was when he’d accidentally let one of the house elves go because he didn’t know that to free them they had to be granted an item of clothing and on a particularly cold night he saw no harm in granting the elf his jacket since it had been shivering beside him and when his father had barged into his room later in the night furious at his son’s stupidity Draco had lied and told him that the elf had tricked him into doing so and upon hearing this his father had tracked the elf down and casted the unforgivable curse onto him, after that Draco lied to his father about almost everything he did to ensure something like that would never happen again.

Amongst his peers he was powerful and feared but when it came to his father he was nothing, never good enough and always in the way. School was the only place he felt he was more than his father’s words so he knew that as soon as he would make his way into the Slytherin common room the first thing he was going to do was tell his friends that he’d done it, that you were slowly but surely beginning to fall for him, which put him right back on top. 

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@itzsoff @multiversegalaxygirl @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @awkwardnesshabitat @tiredplier @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @macheregrace @dobreesersei @voidmalfoy @lana-isabelle @fangirlyah @dracomalfoyswifey @lonely-kermit @mrsmyamalfoy @fuzzy-panda @sluthug @urbankaite2 @chickeebabe @classygirlything @dark-night-sky-99 @ranialih @pillowjj @im-a-stranger-thing @christinechickiee @imstillhere-butallislost @spencerreidisbootiful @hip-hopphile @justmesadgirl @gia-kerks @lilxnvm @kelly182001 @moonbug26 @gabiconstellation @sleepinmoonbean @mautand @oldschoolkiddo @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @dreams-in-blxck @stalker83005 @criesinlies @sxlted-carxrmel @moonjooniee @maskd-hearts @little-honey-bear @dobreesersei 

Let me know in my inbox or asks if you’d liked to be added, much love <333

[a-room-of-my-own]

Have you read "An Apology to JK Rowling" by Petra Bueskens on Areo? I'm pathetically grateful to read something so clever and well articulated on the subject after the amount of abuse JK has been subjected to

It's a great piece so here it is, thank you anon!

 Rowling recently published an eminently reasonable, heartfelt treatise, outlining why it is important to preserve the category of woman. There’s only one thing wrong with it: it assumes a rational interlocutor. Rowling outlines why the biological and legal category of sex is important: in sports, in rape crisis shelters, in prisons, in toilets and changing rooms, for lesbians who want to sleep with natal women only and at the level of reality in general. Rowling marshals her experiences as an androgynous girl, as a domestic violence and sexual assault survivor and as someone familiar with the emotional perils of social media, in ways that have resonated with many women (and men). Her writing is clear, unpretentious, thoughtful, moving, vulnerable and honest. At no point does she use exclusionary or hostile language or say that trans women do not exist, have no right to exist or that she wants to rob them of their rights. Her position is that natal women exist and have a right to limit access to their political and personal spaces. Period.

Of course, to assume that her missive would be engaged with in the spirit in which it was intended, is to make the mistake of imagining that the identitarian left is broadly committed to secular, rational discourse. It is not. Its activist component has transmogrified into a religious movement, which brooks no opposition and no discussion. You must agree with every tenet or else you’re a racist, sexist, transphobic bigot, etc. Because its followers are fanatics, Rowling is being subjected to an extraordinary level of abuse. There seems to be no cognitive dissonance among those who accuse her of insensitivity and then proceed to call her a cunt, bitch or hag and insist that they want to assault and even kill her (see this compilation of tweets on Medium). She has been accused of ruining childhoods. Some even claim that the actor Daniel Radcliffe wrote the Harry Potter books—reality has become optional for some of these identitarians. Rowling’s age, menstrual status and vagina come in for particularly nasty attention and many trans women (or those masquerading as such) write of wanting to sexually assault her with lady cock, as a punishment for speaking out. I haven’t seen misogyny like this since Julia Gillard became our prime minister.

The Balkanisation of culture into silos of unreason means that the responses have not followed what might be loosely called the pre-digital rules of discourse. These rules assume that the purpose of public debate is to discern truth and that interlocutors on opposing sides—a reductionist bifurcation, because, in fact, there are many sides—engage in argument because they are interested in something higher than themselves: an ideal of truth, no matter how complicated, multifaceted and evolving. While in-group preferences and biases are inevitable, these exist within an overarching deliberative framework. This style of dialogue assumes the validity of a persuasive argument grounded in reason and evidence, even if—as Rowling does—it also utilises experience and feeling. By default, it assumes that civil conflict and opposition are essential devices in the pursuit of truth.

Three decades of postmodernism and ten years of Twitter have destroyed these conventions and, together with them, the shared norms by which we create and sustain social consensus. There is no grounding metanarrative, there are no binding norms of civil discourse in the digital age. Indeed, as Jaron Lanier shows with his bummer paradigm (Behaviours of Users Modified and Made into an Empire for Rent) social media is destroying the fabric of our personal and political lives (although, with a different business model and more robust regulation, it need not do so). The algorithm searching for and recording your every click, like and share, your every purchase, search term, conversation, movement, facial expression, social connection and preference rewards engagement above all else—which means that your feed—an aptly infantile descriptor—will quickly become full of the things you and others like you are most likely to be motivated to click, like and share. Outrage is a more effective mechanism through which to foster engagement than almost anything else. In Lanier’s terms, this produces a “menagerie of wraiths”—a bunch of digitised dementors: fake and bad actors, paid troll armies and dyspeptic bots—designed to confect mob outrage.

The norms of civil discourse are being eroded, as we increasingly inhabit individualised media ecosystems, designed to addict, distract, absorb, outrage, manipulate and incite us. These internecine culture wars damage us all. As Lanier notes, social media is biased “not towards the left or right but downwards.” As a result, we are witnessing a catastrophic decline in the standards of our democratic institutions and discourse. Nowhere is this more evident than in the contemporary culture wars around the trans question, where confected outrage is the norm.

This is why the furore over Rowling’s blog post misses the point: whether we agree with her or not, the problem is the collapse of our capacity to disagree constructively. If you deal primarily in subjective experience and impulse-driven reaction, under the assumption that you occupy the undisputed moral high ground, and you’ve been incited by fake news and want to signal your allegiances to your social media friends, then you can’t engage in rational discussion with your opponent. Your stock in trade will be unsubstantiated accusations and social shaming.

In this discombobulating universe, sex-based rights are turned into insults against trans people. Gender-critical feminists are recast as immoral bigots, engaged in deliberately hurtful, even life-threatening, speech. Rowling is not who we thought she was, her ex-fans wail, her characters and plots conceal hidden reservoirs of homophobia and bigotry. A few grandstanders attempt to distinguish themselves by saying that they have always been able to smell a rat—no, not Scabbers—and therefore hated the books from the outset. Nowhere amid this morass of moral grandstanding and outrage is there any serious engagement with her ideas.

Those of us on the left—and left-wing feminists in particular—who find trans ideology fraught, for all the reasons Rowling outlines, are a very small group. While Rowling is clearly privileged, she has also become the figurehead of a rapidly dwindling and increasingly vilified group of feminists, pejoratively labelled terfs, who want to preserve women’s sex-based rights and spaces. Although our arguments align with centrist, conservative and common sense positions, ours is not the prevailing view in academia, public service or the media, arts and culture industries, where we are most likely to be located (when we are not at home with our children). In most of these workplaces, a sex-based rights position is defined a priori as bigoted, indeed as hate speech. It can get us fired, attacked, socially ostracised and even assaulted.

As leftist thinkers who believe in freedom of speech and thought, who find creeping ideological and bureaucratic control alarming, we are horrified by these increasingly vicious denunciations by the left. The centre right and libertarians—the neo-cons, post-liberals and the IDW—are invariably smug about how funny it is to watch the left eat itself. But it’s true: some progressive circles are now defined by a call out/cancel culture to rival that of the most repressive of totalitarian states. Historically, it was progressives who fought against limits on freedom of speech and action. But the digital–identitarian left split off from the old print-based left some time ago, and has become its own beast. A contingent of us are deeply critical of these new directions.

Only a few on the left have had the gumption to speak up for us. Few have even defended our right to express our opinions. Those who have spoken out include former media darlings Germaine Greer and Michael Leunig. Many reader comments on left-leaning news sites claim that Rowling is to blame for the ill treatment she is suffering. Rowling can bask in the consequences of her free speech, they claim, as if having a different opinion from the woke majority means that she is no longer entitled to respect, and that any and all abuse is warranted—or, at least, to be expected. Where is the outrage on her behalf? Where are the writers, film makers, actors and artists defending her right to speak her mind?

Of course, the actors from the Harry Potter films are under no obligation to agree with JK Rowling just because she made them famous. They don’t owe her their ideological fealty: but they owe her better forms of disagreement. When Daniel Radcliffe repeats the nonsensical chant trans women are women, he’s not developing an argument, he’s reciting a mantra. When he invokes experts, who supposedly know more about the subject than Rowling, he betrays his ignorance of how contested the topic of transgender medicine actually is: for example, within endocrinology, paediatrics, psychiatry, sociology, and psychology (the controversies within the latter discipline have been demonstrated by the numerous recent resignations from the prestigious Tavistock and Portman gender identity clinic). The experts are a long way from consensus in what remains a politically fraught field.

Trans women are women is not an engaged reply. It is a mere arrangement of words, which presupposes a faith that cannot be questioned. To question it, we are told, causes harm—an assertion that transforms discussion into a thought crime. If questioning this orthodoxy is tantamount to abuse, then feminists and other dissenters have been gaslit out of the discussion before they can even enter it. This is especially pernicious because feminists in the west have been fighting patriarchy for several hundred years and we do not intend our cause to be derailed at the eleventh hour by an infinitesimal number of natal males, who have decided that they are women. Now, we are told, trans women are women, but natal females are menstruators. I can’t imagine what the suffragists would have made of this patently absurd turn of events.

There has been a cacophony of apologies to the trans community for Rowling’s apparently tendentious and hate-filled words. But no one has paused to apologise to Rowling for the torrent of abuse she has suffered and for being mischaracterised so profoundly.

So, I’m sorry, JK Rowling. I’m sorry that you will not receive the respectful disagreement you deserve: disagreement with your ideas not your person, disagreement with your politics, rather than accusations of wrongspeak. I’m sorry that schools, publishing staff and fan clubs are now cancelling you. And I’m sorry that you will be punished—because cancel culture is all about punishment. I’m sorry that you are being burned at the digital stake for expressing an opinion that goes against the grain.

But remember this, JK—however counterintuitive this may seem to progressives, whose natural home is on the fringe—most people are looking on incredulously at the disconnect between culture and reality. Despite raucous protestations to the contrary, you are on the right side of history—not just because of the points you make, but because of how you make them.

[touchmycoat]

qijiu bingqiu (bingliushen??) fix-it fic planning blabber

so i think i gotta keep it tight on SJ’s POV. Right before his death, he makes a deal with Xin Mo (who’s kind of a lone operator bc LBH too has to fight its power) to create this alternate timeline in exchange for his cultivation. Xin Mo can open up new dimensions no problem, and with SJ’s cultivation, it even manages to rewind the timeline. That’s not enough though—Xin Mo’s goal is only consumption, so it takes the deal but reveals there’s nothing that will actually change. The price SJ paid only opened the door.

But that’s fine, ‘cause SJ saw it coming. He also strikes another deal, this time with Death itself? Some sort of large cosmic force. The only thing he wants changed is Qi-ge’s death, and in exchange...the universe takes him. SJ will not get to exist in that second universe. SJ takes the deal.

And that’s the start of canon. SJ-as-SQQ can no longer exist. Instead, SY-as-SQQ is brought in. In order to stay cohered though, YQY’s memories and personality get a little glitched—he is physically incapable of recognizing all the ways SQQ is now not SJ. That’s why, despite SY-as-SQQ clearly being OOC, YQY never seems to see it.

Canon happens, now we’re in the post-canon world where bingqiu are married and settling down, but SQQ still kicks it with his buddies LQG and YQY every now and then. YQY still firmly believes SQQ is SJ, to SY’s increasing consternation. Is it just delusions and wishful thinking? The more YQY treats him as SJ though, the worse SY feels—he shouldn’t be stealing all this affection that doesn’t belong to him.

It all comes to head when SQQ overhears public opinion on YQY, how he’s perfect in everything but his crazy devotion to SQQ. SY thinks enough is enough. He can’t bring SJ back but he sure can tell YQY that his Xiao Jiu is dead, right? The System warns him he’ll be punished but that’s fine, it’s just not fair, SQQ can take another little mental horror trip down to BinggeLand if it means YQY can have some closure.

Except that’s not what happens. He gets YQY in private and says, “no, you don’t understand, Shen Jiu is dead.” He sees the recognition in YQY’s eyes, but he also sees the moment that recognition gets wiped. The sad smile that had fallen off of YQY’s face returns, eerily happy, as YQY says, “my apologies, Qingqiu-shidi, I must have spaced out just now, what did you say?”

Right before the System kicks him into another punishment phase, SY tries again: “Shen Jiu is dead!” He sees the recognition disappear once again from YQY’s eyes.

Inside the punishment world, Bingge has him again. “I’ve been searching for an answer to why the sniveling pathetic version of me gets you as his Shizun, and I think I figured it out.” For a moment, SY’s horrified by the possibility that Bingge has figured out his transmigrator status—if his punishment figures it out, would he be trapped inside the punishment forever? But instead, Bingge says, “Liu Qingge is still alive, meaning Shizun didn’t kill him in the spirit caves. Did his survival render such a dramatic change?” SQQ”s like “yup, yup that’s definitely it. We’re such good friends, he really changed my outlook on life, so I treated you better, mhm.”

“Shizun’s very clever then to save his own life this way. Xin Mo’s already told me about your little bargain.”

That’s how SY learns that SJ had made a deal. Holy shit, he’d thought it was just random phenomenon this whole time, but the original goods had made it all possible? He didn’t know whether to thank SJ or curse him.

But that can’t be the whole story—Xin Mo opened up a timeline, that doesn’t explain why SY is here. Bingge doesn’t know this part, but it sure feels like SJ made a second deal, paying with his life.

What would motivate the original goods to do all this? Sacrifice his hard-won cultivation and his entire existence in this last-ditch effort?

The memory of YQY’s glitching came to mind.

Holy shit. SY owns the two of them more than he’d ever thought.

After the punishment, SY goes back home. He’s with Binghe, and LBH can tell there’s something troubling him.

“Binghe, there’s something this husband wants to do, and I need your help to do it.”

“Shizun, anything.”

“...But there’s a risk it might hurt you. There’s a risk it might ruin everything. It might be straight-forward, but it also might not be. It’s safer for all of us—but especially you, Binghe—if I just let things be.”

“But it’s not something that Shizun can just let be, is it? Otherwise Shizun wouldn’t have said anything. Binghe is honored to help. Anything to ease Shizun’s mind.”

“...I promised I wouldn’t let you come to harm again, and I meant that. Whatever happens, remember that I am your husband, this is my call, and you must do whatever you need to do to protect yourself, okay? Swear to me, Binghe.”

SQQ begins figuring out how to use Xin Mo to go fetch SJ from the other timeline. He figures that if Bingge could exist in this dimension without destroying the space-time continuum, the same ought to be true for SJ. Only trouble is, he can only go get SJ after SJ’s made the deals, because otherwise it’s a paradox, and he wouldn’t exist.

So SQQ brings home limbless, post-torture!SJ. That’s where the fic starts.

By all accounts, the deals are squared: SJ no longer has cultivation and SJ died in SY’s dimension, so SY successfully exists. SJ and SY can exist in the same space totally fine, and SJ begins healing.

(Currently, the fic is completely from SJ’s POV, and very much about coming to terms with being saved and what the hell is going on in this better world.)

The trouble is, SY doesn’t know what’s going to happen when SJ meets YQY again. SJ very thoroughly declines the offer to go see YQY because part of SJ still believes this whole thing is a trick, and if he goes to see YQY he’ll ruin his end of the bargain and YQY will die again. For SY’s part, he’s afraid of SJ going to see YQY too for similar but opposite reasons—if SJ going to see YQY ruins SJ’s end of the bargain, then wouldn’t that mean SY can no longer exist? Would SY just disappear from this universe?

So we get ragtag group therapy fun times. SJ thinks this is probably all an illusion Xin Mo is tricking him with, so treats everything with scorn but also existential apathy. This actually works to his benefit because he’s not clinging to things as hard, and it’s easier for him to admit, for example, that he was definitely in the wrong for abusing LBH, and yeah he was being a spiteful bitch when he did not need to be.

SY tries to keep LBH away from SJ mostly, because c’mon, he’s not about to make his darling husband face his childhood abuser. He does explain the situation to LBH though, in the same terms that Bingge had (mis)understood it lmfao—that the act of saving LQG’s life had prompted an entire 180 on his personality so he came out of the spirit caves a better man. LBH’s jealous as fuck of course, but damn if that doesn’t explain some things. Given the opportunity to see his old and new Shizun side-by-side, LBH takes it, and really gets a moment to see how horribly he’s been treated by SQQ.

So it actually prompts some therapy between SY and LBH too. LBH used to figure that getting pushed into the Abyss was squared by SQQ sacrificing himself to save him. But ofc it turned out SQQ came back and kept on, in his perspective, trying to get away from him. Trying to leave him behind. SQQ’s tried to treat his abandonment issues by going “okay sorry about that I’ll never leave you behind again” but he’s never really explained it.

SJ’s presence gives Binghe the ability to ask the question again and gives SY an answer: shame and cowardice. They’re able to put SJ’s mistreatment of Binghe right in front of them and SY-as-SQQ gets to explain how much it hurt to look back on that bit of their past, but also how much he feared LBH's retaliation. LBH is a little hurt, but also he remembers how he’d raped SQQ under Xin Mo’s control and, looking at what’s left of SJ now, he sees his own darkest possibilities. He really did destroy the man he loves now in another timeline. That helps him contextualize SY’s fears and why SY chose to push him off the cliff.

LQG crashlands into the middle of this whole party as is his wont. He gets a little fix-it too maybe. SY very staunchly repeats the reason for his personality swap—saving LQG in that cave made him a Better Person™. Meeting the original goods again, LQG is forced to believe it. Or like, it doesn’t really matter to him either way, but now he really does see pre-cave SQQ and post-cave SQQ as two completely different people.

SJ though, has to swallow this really weird pill. He remembers trying to save LQG inside the cave but failing, and then getting blamed for LQG’s death. If he’d succeeded, he and LQG would’ve become...this close?? A life debt between them would’ve changed his outlook on life so much???

Well whatever. Now that he’s put down all his old posturing, he more readily gives his reasons for why LQG gets on his nerves so much: the insufferable confidence (arrogant prick), the skills to back it up (privileged bastard), and a flawless cultivator family with all the money and the training and the pedigree. (Meanwhile SY’s like “oh shit that’s me too hahahahah awkward, good thing he still thinks i’m him so he doesn’t just murder me immediately.)

LQG’s a little weirded out too. SY-as-SQQ is his favorite person in the world, so it’s hard to get angry at SJ-as-SQQ since they’re “the same person.” He’s more willing to talk all this out with SJ and brings up all their old beef on his side too: high-handed snootiness coupled with underhanded dick moves, also the whole sleeping-with-prostitutes thing hurting Cang Qiong’s reputation. Ofc they’re snapping at each other this whole time. “There’s no reason for you to do all that!”

SY intervenes if needed. “Actually there is.” Considering the fact that SJ gets indicted for so many things that actually turn out to be not his fault, SY figures he’ll just get it out there. “Remember Qiu Haitang’s accusations against me? I grew up a slave in that household. I grew up believing it was kill or be killed—it doesn’t make sabotaging others right, but...that’s why the Spirit Caves made such an impression on me. I learned it wasn’t just kill or be killed, I can also save people. It opened my eyes to everything I already had, and everything I should be grateful for.”

This is for both LQG and SJ. And it works, to some degree. SJ knows he managed to claw to the top of privilege, but he still felt horribly insecure there. That’s because, he realizes, he never got the thing that would actually grant him security. It's not power or money or reputation—it’s Qi-ge. Holy hell he misses Qi-ge. In anger and betrayal, he’d pushed YQY continuously out of his life, but when faced with certain death the only regret he actually had was bringing Qi-ge down with him. YQY was meant to have survived, and in this world, he did.

So now, after all that, SJ really, really wants to go see his Qi-ge. It’s nice to have survived (and gotten part of his power back—at the very beginning, SY gives one of SQQ’s eyes to SJ as a bit of his golden core in order to save SJ’s life), but it’s so damn hard to live on in this world knowing YQY is only so far away, still very deeply attached to Xiao Jiu.

They try to Cyrano it at first. SY-as-SQQ goes to YQY with SJ’s voice in his ear, telling SY how to treat YQY as him. YQY is so fucking touched and hopeful, and SY is damn uncomfortable. He goes running back to SJ and says it’s not going to work—it’s not going to work because he’s no longer Qi-ge’s Xiao Jiu. He’s Luo Binghe’s husband, okay? He can’t go back to YQY as SJ.

SJ’s fucking furious at first (what kind of shitty variation of himself saves LQG’s life and then falls out of love with Qi-ge???? bitch?????) but what can he do? LQG tells them YQY’s on his way here and SJ hides for now. They still don’t know what will happen if SJ meets YQY, so SY continues to front as SJ for now.

But during this conversation, something changes. Maybe YQY says something, but SJ realizes he’s actually a little willing to take this chance. If Qi-ge does disappear—easy, he’d just kill himself right after. He’d already experienced Qi-ge’s death twice before, and at least this time, he can follow, knowing he’s at least reconciled with Qi-ge through SY.

And if he disappears on his own, then at least he knows there’s a world in which Qi-ge does not die horribly. That’s enough for him.

That, however, leaves the very last possibility—that SY will disappear. At this point both LQG and LBH have figured this out, and are very, very reluctant to let this be the scenario. They don’t see it as two people, they see it as their version of SQQ vs. YQY’s version of SQQ.

So there’s a little tension, but in the end, SY gets the final choice. As soon as he learns SJ is willing to go see YQY, he chooses that path. He simply owes qijiu too much to deny them the possibility of reconciliation. So despite knowing he might disappear from Binghe and LQG’s life, he makes it happen.

(They should get a very painful goodbye scene.)

SY goes out to explain things. “Zhangmen-shixiong may have noticed my change since my qi deviation and the spirit caves.” “I’m happy Xiao Jiu has a brighter outlook on life.” “Yes, but I think Qi-ge, of all people, might actually prefer how I was before, right?” “If Xiao Jiu’s happy, I’m happy.” “Yes, but Shen Jiu wants you. Is that alright?” “—of course. I want Xiao Jiu too—”

SJ comes out. Everyone holds their breath.

Scene cut.

It’s said that Cang Qiong’s Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan disappeared suddenly one afternoon...

But jk, YQY just ran away with SJ, they’re recuperating in the mountains and everybody’s fine and it’s a happy ending.

[scabopolis]

lv au week, day 3: fairy tales

Title: parry on Fandom: Veronica Mars Rating: PG  Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars Other Characters: An animal that is 100% based on one of my mom’s felines Additional Tags: Absolutely inspired by Tangled, though I do not give Logan luscious magical hair (SPOILER!) Things I googled for this fic: antique jewelry box, what to feed cats in the 1800s, fencing footwork drills Word Count: ~1,950 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard. 

Logan goes through the motions and repeats them, increasing his speed each time. “Again,” he says to himself. 

Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard. Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard.

Again, and again, and again until his chest is tight with exertion and he is barely capable of lifting his makeshift sword up above his hip line. It is only then he ceases movement. 

Logan drops his weapon to the floor and hinges at the waist, taking deep, slow breaths. He is unsure how long he remains in that position before his cat, a rotund tortoiseshell who simply showed up in his keep one day, winds itself around his ankles. 

Lady Richard looks up at him and lets out a cross between a whimper and a meow. Logan reaches down and scratches the cat behind its ears. 

“Ah, I know what you want.” 

Lady Richard meows again, even more pathetically.

Post-workout, Logan’s sabre has returned to its true form and is a wooden spoon once more. He kicks it out of the way and makes for his small kitchen. His father’s man visited him the day prior (“your father wished to come, truly”) so his larder basket is more than full. 

Once Lady Richard appeared, his father was surprisingly amenable to Logan’s keeping her. Apparently his father did not consider a cat scaling the unsteady ivy outside his window a threat. 

Logan unpacks the cat collops from the larder basket and sinks to the stone floor. Lady Richard invites himself into Logan’s lap.  

“Father approved entrails this week.” Logan scratches Lady Richard under the chin, feeding him the meat pieces from his hand. “He must be in a good mood.”

Once Lady Richard is finished with her meal, she bounces from Logan’s lap and moves over to her favorite cushion of the burnt orange sofa in the corner of the room. Logan reupholstered the sofa himself but, seeing as it was a decision made primarily to irritate his father, he deeply regrets the choice of fabric.

Logan sets himself to preparing his own meal, removing bread, cheese, and some salted meat from the larder basket. He takes a jar of the fig jam he made the previous week down from the kitchen shelf. This batch is considerably better than the past few he has attempted, though it is still not quite right. If only he could ask Lettie, the palace cook, for her advice. On Logan’s more optimistic days, he believes he will one day have the chance to. 

He pours himself a large glass of mead, sinks back down to the floor with food and drink in hand, and then waits. For what, he is never certain. But he has been waiting for something to transpire the more than three years he has lived in this tower. The day Logan stops finding something to hope for will be the day he takes a flying leap from the tower. 

Some hours later (it is hard to say how many — his father did not think a clock necessary for his survival) Logan wakes with a start, laying upon the cold stone floor of the kitchen. He notices the bright light spilling in through the tower window, illuminating most of the room. It must be a full moon. 

At first uncertain as to what caused him to stir, he registers the distinct rustling of ivy outside the tower window. He assumes Lady Richard to be the culprit but that is not possible as the cat is tucked behind Logan’s knees, fast asleep. The rustling persists. 

Logan pushes himself to a seated position (Lady Richard meows in displeasure) and moves to crouch behind the large floral chair that once belonged to his mother. He reasons with himself that it is likely just another cat; possibly a squirrel of some sort. But then there is the darker possibility that his father has determined keeping him alive and hidden is no longer worth the trouble. 

The rustling is even louder now, but it is the sound of metal hitting stone that has all his attention. Logan moves from where he crouches into the kitchen in search of a weapon. Father has left him without knives of any sort, so he settles on the heavy cast iron pan, still soiled with the remnants of breakfast. Rather than return to his original hiding spot, Logan moves on bare feet to the book shelf nearest the window. This position unfortunately obscures his view of the tower window. 

He listens to the repetitive movements outside; metal hitting stone again and again. Eventually the sound stops and Logan is startled by how calm he feels. His father has always been mercurial — it was only a matter of time before he decided a dead prince was preferable to a hidden one. 

The assassin grunts as they first swing one leg and then the other over the window ledge; their heavy boots hitting the stone. They don’t seem concerned with keeping quiet, which is strange. Rather than head immediately for the stairs, and thus his room, the assassin sounds as if they are moving towards the main room. 

“What is this place?”

Logan freezes in place at the assassin’s quiet voice. A woman? He was not expecting a woman. She moves further into the room, her back to Logan. He especially did not expect a woman who appears to be a foot shorter than him. The woman continues her exploration of the tower, her head turning this way and that, when her eyes settle on the engraved silver jewelry box set upon the fireplace mantle. He watches as she picks up the jewelry box, inspects it for a moment, and then tucks it into her satchel. She helps herself also to a pair of candlesticks and his pocket compass. 

Not quite an assassin, then.

Lady Richard makes herself known by flopping backwards onto the thief’s boot, feet up in the air in invitation. The thief laughs quietly and leans down to scratch the cat’s stomach. “You’re a well-fed thing,” she says. “Where is your owner?” 

And Logan would much rather take someone by surprise than be surprised, so he seizes that moment to step out of the shadow. 

“Right here,” he says. 

In one quick action, the woman reels around to face Logan, a knife he was unaware she wielded clutched tight in her hand. Logan holds up the frying pan. It distracts her for a moment, but only just.  

“Who are you?” the woman asks. 

“Who are you?” 

“I believe I asked first.” 

“You are the intruder, which I think places the burden of answering questions firmly upon your shoulders.”

“You live here?” 

“Clearly. Shall I repeat my original question: who are you?” 

She hesitates. “My horse threw me off a few miles from here. I was looking for assistance.” 

“Is that so?”

“You do not believe me?” 

“I do not. But I also do not believe you are here to kill me, so that is something.” 

“Why would I kill you?” 

“Why, indeed.”

“I suppose you saw me steal your jewelry box.” 

“I did. The candlesticks, too.” 

“And you are okay with this?” 

“No, and I do expect their return, but you have bigger concerns.” 

“What concerns?” 

“Successfully leaving this place alive, for one.” 

The woman tenses and she takes a step back. Lady Richard follows, batting at the thief’s boot. “You intend to kill me.” 

“No. I do not. But I am afraid you stormed the wrong tower.” 

She narrows her eyes. “Who are you, exactly?” 

This evening, when Logan sat on that cold stone floor to eat his supper, he had no way of knowing what he was waiting for. Seeing this woman now — this woman who boldly brandishes a knife at him and speaks without fear while so clearly being in the wrong — he makes a decision. 

“Perhaps you should look at that jewelry box once more.” 

The woman manages to fish out the silver box while still keeping the knife steady and directed at Logan. The top of the box is engraved with a scene of a pond and the requisite flora surrounding it. There’s no way for this woman to know the etching is a perfect rendering of the large pond on the palace grounds. 

It is the name engraved upon the box which can hardly escape her notice: Her Majesty, The Queen, Lynette II

“You are a thief, as well?” she asks, though she sounds doubtful. 

“I am not.” 

“Then how—?”

“The queen is—,” he clears his throat, “—was quite dear to me.”

“How did you know the queen?” 

Logan remains silent. 

Her eyes return to the box, her thumb tracing over the engraving. She looks back up at him and, perhaps it is the remnants of a long-faded instinct, but Logan draws himself up straight for her inspection. That is when his identity appears to be clear to her. 

“It cannot—,” she begins, haltingly. He nods. “Are you the lost prince?”

Logan sighs and lowers the frying pan. Lady Richard accepts it as an invitation and comes over to lick bacon grease from the cast iron. “The lost prince? Is that what they call me?” 

“Most of the kingdom believes you dead. Your father increases the reward for your return each year.” 

He laughs. “I am sorry, but all my return would garner you is your death.” 

“Why is that?” 

“Because your good king, my father, does not want me to be found as he is the one who entrapped me here.”

She loses her grip on the jewelry box, but manages to recover the object. Her knife, on the other hand, clatters to the ground. She does not pick it up.

“Is this true?”

“What is more, I believe as soon as my step-mother produces an heir, I will truly be expendable.” 

“Why tell me this?”

Logan twirls the frying pan in his hand and sends spatters of cooled bacon grease flying. “As I see it we have two options and limited time to decide: one, you leave me here, and you worry that one of my father’s spies has witnessed your departure and will thus murder you.” 

“Option two?” 

“Option two is far less likely to succeed.” 

He pauses for dramatic effect and she rolls her eyes. “Do go on.”

“Option two, you help me escape, I take my rightful place as ruler, and you will earn far more than any reward my father could offer.”

“What makes you think I can help you?” 

“Something tells me a woman who just happened to have the means to scale a 60 foot tower in her satchel has the means to do much more.” 

This is already more fun than Logan has had in close to a decade. 

“What should I call you?” she asks. “Because I refuse to call you highness.” 

“Logan will do. Shall I call you thief?” 

She picks up her knife, sheathes it, and extends her hand. He grips hers in return and is overcome by the fact it has been years since he has touched another person. 

“Veronica. Mars. And I prefer the term master thief.” Veronica looks down at Lady Richard as she intently licks a spot of grease off her boot. “The cat?” 

“The cat comes. Her name is Lady Richard.” 

“What say you, Lady Richard,” Veronica says, “ready for an adventure?”

[spaghetwardhoezier]

‘Erase this please’ - Percico secret santa fanfic

@duchessmb (MidnightBunnyy) , I am your Percico Secret Santa, bringing you fluffy & angsty flustered boys after Christmas has long passed but i still got my Christmas tree up so you can’t kill my spirit!

I want to start by saying: Happy late Christmas and Happy New Year! I dearly hope this year brings you and the rest of us some better memories. That being said, i want to apologize for posting my gift on the very last day of the event but, hey! At least it’s in time! (unlike all of my school projects :’) ) I hope it doesn’t seem too rushed. I wrote something, read it, hated it and decided to rewrite everything in the last three days. Also, i hope it doesn’t contain many grammar mistakes. I’ll proof read it the morning but if you see it until then, just know that i’m not actually illiterate, just tired. Now that you know how much of a dumbass i am, let’s go on with the story! Hope you enjoy!

This...

Nico stared down at his arm, eyes almost piercing trough the new-found initial that marked the skin from right near his elbow.

Is so confusing...

... a sturdy ‘P’ stood proudly, as if laughing at the son’s of Hades suffering.

P could come from many things! It can come from... Patrick... Paul... Phineas...

What kind of name is Phineas even, Nico?

The boy sighed deeply, his mind stubbornly struggling to remain attached to the same name it has been focused on since he’s seen his soulmark...

The most beautiful name on his list, the one he’s been dreading to say so badly...

Percy Jackson

But that name isn’t supposed to come out of his mouth, to glide between his two lips... That name isn’t supposed to even stroll so casually around his mind every single goddamn day.

Why? Because the thought of Percy Jackson was stuffed so deeply inside of Nico that it now felt like part of him; it was almost painful. Oh, the thought of him was very close and reachable alright..., but Percy Jackson himself was excruciatingly far away.

Nico would stare helplessly... His heart will scream and his mind would struggle to find a coherent thought, one that didn’t scream ‘you’re alone’ or ‘you’re pathetic’. And in spite of all that, he could imagine... was Percy in the arms of his future lover whose face didn’t reasamble Nico’s in any shape or form. He’d imagine them sneaking out in the middle of the night to go and count the stars from the black abyss of the dark sky, the only light accompanying them being each other’s love and company.

... Why couldn’t Nico have that?

...Why did Percy’s future... seemed like one he could never be part of?

Love was for lucky people. He guessed that he just wasn’t the guy.

The dim sounds of flowing water from the well known Styx river the demigod was currently standing close to grew quieter as Nico's eardrums were filled with the obnoxious sounds of his own consuming thoughts. No. He must not pay attention to that mark. To him, the soulmark had to be no longer. It didn't exist to him.

And yet, for the next following weeks, the only place his eyes seemed to want and glance towards as he roamed around his father's kingdom was that idiotic mark. Not even the hopeless whispers of the dead could distract him from it. Truth be told, he felt just as hopeless then.

-

''Boy.'' Hades's cold voice dared to soften just a dime as he tried to catch his son's attention. Nico remained still by the Styx river in the not so far away distance, eyes lost and heart seemingly sinking alongside the dozens of sticks and rocks from the acid water. ''Boy!'' he bellowed once again, steps becoming bigger as he kept advancing towards the shore.

Nico's head turned suddenly, black eyes harmoniously meeting black eyes. The bond wasn't kept for long, the teenage boy immediately starting to glare back at the water. ''What do you want, father?'' his voice was distant and lost, as if it tried to show itself off as threatening and furious but gave up amid the way.

Hades cleared his throat. ''I want to see your mark.''

Nico's eyes widened. The demigod tried to control his panic before opening his mouth again. ''What mark?''

''Your soulmark.''

''I don't have it.''

''Well, i think you do!''

Hades rushed forward, grabbing his son's arms and bringing back the sleeves. Nico stood up and struggled as tried to escape his father's firm grip with no succes.

''A 'P'... Ah, i see...'' the god spat as if utterly unsatisfied with his own statement. His fingers unclenched from around the demigod's wrists and the poor boy grunted as he stumbled back.

''...I told you, i don't have any soulmark.'' his eyes looked up to meet his father's for a second time. He was speaking through gritted teeth, voice stubborn and decisive. ''It's meaningless to me.''

''Too bad it's not meaningless to me then. As much as i hate that it starts with... that boy's name and i dearly hope it's not him... you are still going to go find said person.''

''That boy?''

''Poseidon's brat!''

Hades sighed and closed his eyes, trying to regain his patience. It didn't work much as his voice trembled with annoyance as the god began speaking once again. "Don't play with me. Don't disagree with me. If going to that... cursed camp is what it takes for you to be happy, then so be it.'' He said the world 'camp' with a tone that revealed worse despise than when he'd talk about one of his brothers.

Nico's eyes widened in confusion. ''Happiness...? Going to camp...? What in Hades are you saying?''

''Soulmarks are made by Aphrodite and Hestia, you idiotic child. Yeah, sure, Aphrodite often goes on and on about the drama and chaos that must take place in a romantic relationship for it to be entertaining enough for her, but Hestia, on the other hand... she doesn't let explosions go off and burst when soulmarks are involved. She doesn't let the chaos lay a finger on that. As much as i hate my family sometimes... soulmarks are a good thing. You are not going to remain alone and pouting. Go to camp. Now.''

Nico followed his father's words, but they simply wouldnt clench around his brain. Now is when his father showed care out of all times? Now? When Nico's heart kept yelling 'no' with an unshaken vigor?

''No.''

''Now!'' Hades spoke again and his words were conclusive. With a simple hand gesture, Nico was sent to the one place he currently dreaded most.

-

A girl's hand wrapped around Percy's wrist and, to him, it felt almost like a betrayal. The mark was right there, staring back at him. It looked like it was gaping up and shaking its head, perhaps mumbling a 'you idiot, wrong soulmate, wrong hand to hold.'. He tried imagining the exact voice a hundred of times. It sounded more pissed off than his french teacher from fifth grade when he'd raise his hand during class to ask if he could go to the bathroom. 'But can't you say it in french, s'il te plait?'

...

Why couldn't Percy listen?

''Let's catch lunch before it's over!'' Naomi from Aphrodite's cabin said sweetly as if trying to lure him in. It felt wrong. Why did he keep following her?

''About the mark...''

''Percy...'' the daughter of the love goddess spoke clearly even as Percy tried to replay the memory in his head. Her voice was sweet and lucid, her vocabulary was rich and her intelligence was definitely blossomed and visible, especially when compared to the other children of Aphrodite's. And yet... he's never been attracted. ''It's an 'N', right?'

Percy stared down at his arm as if he expected the mark to grow legs and run away any following second. "..yes."

"So why not give it a try? When mine will appear, we'll know for sure if we are meant to be or not. Do you have any other guesses...? Please, Percy...?'' her smile was bright, hopeful.

'But it doesn't feel right.' his heart said. Percy didn't say that.

Instead, he smiled back, drowning all of his other thoughts with a simple 'we'll see. we'll see...'

'It's been two months.' his mind kept repeating now.

'I know. But now we'll see soon.'

'You even kissed.'

'...We are basically in a relationship.'

'Did you even agree to that?'

'In a way.'

'Why did you even agree to that?'

What could you expect from a dude that's arguing with himself...

"Percy?"

...

"Percy...!'' a hand tapped his shoulder and he finally woke up, in spite of the fact that his eyes have never been closed. "You've been weirdly staring at your shoe laces. If you were Grover, i'd be sure you were about to eat them up.''

"...Sorry. I'm fine."

Naomi smiled again.

"Then all it's fine. Let's go eat.''

-

"Your name is Pollicem? Doesn't that mean, like, big toe in latin?"

"You asked for my name, kid!" the angry satyr bellowed. "I ain't asked for no judgement!"

"Right, right, sorry..." Nico cleared his throat, straightening his back before speaking again. "What's your soulmark's initial? Is it an 'N'?"

"It's a 'D' and i definitely haven't found the chosen one by going around and asking other people about their love life. It doesn't work like that...," he sniffled the dark haired boy and crunched his nose up in disgust. "..., offspring of Hades. Bleh, you always smell like dead grass and corpses."

He was right. Nico was just stupid. Why would he even search for his chosen one, after all? Not even the Gods of Love could make him desirable. Love has brought anything but happiness to him up until now. Why would things change?

"Say kid, do you fancy anybody?"

"Huh?!" Nico's breath got caught up into his throat, the boy getting mildly startled.

''I see... So, in that case, that person is your soulmate.''

''Impossible.''

''You've got your soulmark today, offspring of Hades?''

''I did.''

''The initial matched your loved one's name?''

''...it did.''

''You still love that person?''

Nico bit down on his lip, self-hatred and anger spilling from his gaze. ''What's this about?'' he mumbled.

''If you still love them, then the gods of love approve. You've found your other half. If that wasn't your case, the affection you held for them would start fading by now.''

''I don't believe that.''

''Stop believing so much in the fact that any child of Hades's destiny is lonliness and isolation. Why do you think soulmarks even exist, kid? To form arguments, envy? No. They are supposed to bring peace. Each person with their designed lover. That way, love is clear and true, unbreakable.''

''I've been assigned... a lover?''

I've been assigned... Percy Jackson... as a lover?

Nico's heartbeat started to freak. ''How am i supposed to believe that?''

''Just like that, demigod. You're currently talking to somebody with two hooves instead of feet and yet you can't believe in love?''

Nico looked back at the other half-bloods from camp, their silhouettes blurry and gray under the dim light of the afternoon. They were all laughing, raising their sleeves and proclaiming that 'look, there's somebody out there for me too' and yet Nico couldn't see himself fitting into the scenery.

''That mark holds a lot of power within you.'' the satyr spoke again. ''I can feel it. Don't be afraid of closure, kid, don't be afraid of vulnerability.'' and off he went into the dark forest, leaving Nico alone.

-

The way Percy stood alone at his table, peacefully eating his usual all blue food plate. The way his lips would slowly, leisurely turn upwards at unexpected times, perhaps thinking about something so weird and stupid that he felt like laughing at himself. So unnoticable... so pretty.

Nico watched in silence. Like always, truth be told... But this time, the moment itself seemed more intense, adrenaline and dread rushing up his veins as a familiar warmth settled in his stomach.

A girl makes her way to the Poseidon tabel.

...What?

That's an intruder. An intruder into this portrait that's been meant to only focus on one single person, on Nico's favourite person.

Her fingers laced around his arm. He looked up. Eyes met. The girl smiled. Her eyes sparkled. She leaned in. She pecked his cheek.

No...

That was not his cheek.

Those were his lips.

Those from between which Percy has said so many stupid, dumb words that somehow Nico didn't find dumb at all. Those that would open and scream in triumph after he'd win yet another battle. Those that were always curving up, forming that beautiful smile.

Nico has always found looking at Percy painful. But now's the moment when the pain did no longer feel good at all.

His eyes filled with hatred. It’s almost funny how the soulmark could turn as meaningless as before oh so easily. He turned around, but that's when he's finally spotted.

"Nico!" Grover yelled with excitement from near a tree, letting a chewed piece of plastic drop out of his mouth.

...stupid satyr

"Nico?" another voice called him from behind. He turned around. He shouldn't have turned around.

Sea blue eyes were staring back at him. How did Percy even get here so fast?

"You've come to visit!" his eyes expressed joy. That felt like a punch in the stomach.

"Like you care." he spat, voice annoyed and hateful.

The glint of joy was dipped in hurt. That felt like another punch in the stomach.

Percy looked him up and down, a sudden act that flustered and startled Nico, who covered it up with even more anger.

"What the hell do you want?"

"You've got musclar.''

...

W-what?

Percy's eyes were glued to Nico's biceps. "Stop staring, weirdo! What the heck...?! What do you want?!''

The taller demigod finally brought his gaze up, looking into the child of Hades's black orbs. They seemed more intense to him this time, mysterious, endering... Percy felt weird.

"What's your soulmark?"




"What?!"

Nico seemed surprised. Percy was surprised, too. He didn't know why he asked. He felt pushed too, interested.

"...It's none of your business." the boy replied.

It felt like his business.

Nico perhaps felt suffocated by Percy's fixed stare because he soon spoke again. "I didn't even get it yet.''

Black and green eyes were locked together still. There was a lot of tension. Dozens of words seemed to be hanging in the air. A sudden realization washed over Percy, but he remained silent. When he tried to open his mouth again, he realized that Nico has already left.

-

''You what?" Percy almost staggered as he listened to Annabeth's words. They were on their morning walk. From what the demigod has heard, Nico came back and stayed at camp over night but Percy didn't get the chance to see his face a second time.

"You gain feelings for your soulmate immediately after you get your mark, as well as loose feelings for anybody else you have previously fallen for." Annabeth explained again. "An organized system through which the gods make sure there are no third parties involved in soulmark work."

"Then Naomi's..."


"...not the one." she finished his thoughts. He's been saying that same goddamn sentence in his mind over and over again, but saying it out loud... it finally felt real, believable.

"You didn't tell me this before?!"

"I'm surprised you didn't know. But i did always think you dated Naomi out of kindness. ...I still think that."

"Maybe you were too scared that i'd finally come to the conclusion that Nemo's my soulmate."


Annabeth rolled her eyes, but her smile was playful. "A fish can't be your soulmate, seaweed brain."

They sank in a comfortable silence for about a minute or two. Then the girl started speaking again.

"But... suddenly finding somebody attractive that you didn't before, feeling the need to see somebody else's soulmark, the sudden feeling that you're deeply connected to someone, emotionally and mentally, are all signs that said person is your soulmate."

The odd interaction with Nico from yesterday was the first thing he thought off.

He stopped in his tracks, sweat covering his forehead and eyes opened wide.

Wait a damn minute-

-

"I'm sorry, Percy."

Huh...?

The girl that stood in front of him - his ex, i suppose you could say - had tears straining her cheeks. Whether the cause of them was guilt of sadness, he didn't know. But they left soft, unnoticable traces down her skin, which were glowing vividly in the summer sun as if they tried showing off hope and relief rather than regret.

"My mark appeared today... It's not a 'P'."

"I know." Percy said softly and the girl looked up in confusion. The male demigod was the one who smiled sweetly this time. "And you've probably talked with somebody else today. And you've probably felt reborned in a way, like you've suddenly found a long lost part of you, a piece of puzzle that didn't fit you before but for some reason it now embraces you so perfectly."

"Percy, how-"

"I know the feeling. And it's alright. I've found him too."

-

Waking up in the morning...

'What a bother' Nico'd say if you were to ask him.

Rolling right and left underneath the covers, the demigod realized that the blanket couldn't even provide him warmth. He's never felt colder.

Knock Knock

"Leave."

Knock Knock

"Leave, god dammit!"

The door creaked open. Nico got up with a snarl.

"Why the f-"

The words got caught up into his throat. A whimper softly slided from between his lips as Percy stepped closer.

"Stay back!" Nico took the stygian sword from near his bed and brought it in front of him to keep the distance. The other demigod raised his arms in surrender and then Nico cursed himself for paying so close attention to his lips as the boy started talking.

"What's your soulmark?"

"I told you i don't have it."

"...liar" Percy mumbled.

"What the fuck is your problem?! I told you i-" he yelped as Poseidon's stupid son kneeled down and rushed forward, avoiding the sword as arms came around Nico's legs and brought him up on his shoulders. The sword fell down on the floor with a quiet thud and the smaller male started cursing and yelling in protest.

"Dumbass! Wait, wait-"

Percy brough him down on the bed, caging the boy and struggling to bring one of his sleeve's down. Nico shoved a fist into his left shoulder, throwing the boy off the bed. The son of Poseidon still had his hand clenched around one of the black-eyed male's wrist, therefore they ended up rolling toghether onto the dusty floor, fighting to be the one on top. They stopped spinning when they hit the wall and Nico still remained the one trapped under Percy's dominating figure. The green haired male reached down and finally managed to work with the other's sleeve and see his bare, naked wrist.

A proud 'P' stood glinting under the pale bedroom lights.

"...why didn't you tell me?"

Nico didn't speak. He looked scared, he looked ashamed.

Percy released the boy's wrist and showed off his own. The 'N' no longer felt wrong. It felt like it's finally found its part, its continuation, its home.

There was some strange tension in the room, hidden from the human eye yet touchable and itchy. It felt as if the air was trying to suffocate them. The boys' limbs felt numb and cold, searching for alleviation. The whole atmosphere around the boys was pushing them together, uniting their souls, their bodies... And not even a demigod could do anything but kneel down in front of such a mighty power.

The next few seconds were so intense and brimmed with emotions and sensations that it almost felt like a lucid dream: blurry and vague but real. Percy leaned down while Nico brought his chin up. The son of Poseidon allowed his arms to find their place around the other's hips, pressing their foreheads together while rubbing the tip of their noses in an ardent manner. Nico's breath was hot against his lips. Without being certain of who started the following act (perhaps it was both of them at the same time), their mouths clashed together, speaking the words and feelings which the two demigods haven't got the courage to say yet. Percy's soft, moisturized lips were gently scratched by Nico's dry ones, moving in perfect sync. It felt as if they've completed that one abberant puzzle that they've been working at for decades, twisting the pieces and always wondering why things didn't fit, why things didn't feel right.

Well, finally... things felt right.

They eventually parted and Percy's lips suddenly felt so empty and full of sorrow that he attempted to dive right back into the affectionate act. Nico's index finger stopped him on the way.

"Your shitty girlfriend..."

"It's no longer."

"You got more explaining to do than that."

"I know- i know... I will... But for now, can't we just enjoy this?"

Who was Nico to complain?

While their lips reconnected, tingling with a newfound passion and desire, while their limbs began tangling toghether, focusing on nothing else except the other's warmth and soft skin, Nico could be heard mumbling one single thing against Percy's parted lips:

"My dad's going to kill me."

[synthmusic91]

thoughts? kjfhlkjdfh asking bc i rb'd the original post from u a bit ago because i agreed w/ original poster but i just saw this rb of it and wanted to know what u thought. ciaran(.)tumblr(.)com /post/652413157345820673/there-is-a-genre-of-posts-thats-obsessed-with-the

well first of all i hope this isn't a bait ask. this reply really doesn't deserve the time and effort i put into refuting it, but there was a point in time when i was emotionally confused by these..."arguments", so whoever u are, anon, i hope this is helpful. i also recommend some distance - literally, "go outside and touch grass", which is a lot more difficult than it sounds, but it needs to be done. anyway, here's my "analysis":

for context, here's what the post in question said:

and the tags:

at a high level, we can see that what ciaran is saying doesn't really respond to what OP was talking about. for this reason, i'm not going to bring in much of what OP said, because it's uncontested in this context, and look at ciaran's reply. i'll try to break this up...

EDIT: i had a long-ass response here, but then i realized it was dumb because the source material is dumb. i cut out most of it, but here are the highlights.

"there is a genre of posts that’s obsessed with the notion that fandom is something much larger, more prevalent, and more able to affect the way media is processed and consumed, than it actually is in reality."

so, as we can all see on tiktok and, indeed, on the electronic lore olympus billboard that takes up a side of a literal skyscraper, fandom is no longer the niche thing that "fandom olds" make it out to be. also, we can't ignore how many (white) fandom players go on and work in the industry (cassandra clare, whoever wrote 50 shades, man idk much of anything so there's probably many more). so this comment is sort of myopic. and since this is what characterizes the rest of the reply, well...it's not great.

also don't look up lore olympus; it's basically a dd/////lg fanfic that happens to be one of the most popular series on the line webtoon app, which is rated for teens...and for $1 to the creator's patreon, you can view not sfw p*dophilic art, so. also obviously i didnt do that; there was a video essay about this. i can't find it though

"ironically but understandably, these posts are made by people who are so terminally fandom-poisoned that they ascribe phenomenal power to it, and think of it as some great evil that must be defeated (by making posts on tumblr, which is obviously a very influential thing to do)"

"fandom-poisoned" is such a nebulous term, especially since it appears to mean "has had some really significant, (in this context) bad experiences with fandom." this is, first of all, a huge assumption to make about a stranger, and second, not the own they think it is. i'm just going to link this post, and hopefully you can see how it relates.

anyway, the "making posts on tumblr is meaningless" is um...interesting, seeing as off the top of my head i can think of two very influential tumblr blogs that talk about really important issues, Gradient Lair and Red Light Politics. I don't know as much about Red Light Politics, but Gradient Lair is frequently cited by academics (not getting into academia nonsense now but... -_-). also, they sound more pissed that the original post did gain traction, but whatever. this paragraph doesn't really make sense, but nothing here does, because i wasn't given much to work with.

"...and then because these people have basically no imagination and unfailingly pick on others for their own faults, they project their own experiences on everyone they perceive as being more ‘in fandom’ than them,"

jesus christ. i'm going not say anything about the tone of this because i put too much effort into this for some rando to call me a cyberbully.

i think what they're thinking about is how there appear to be some "fandom critical" people who try to, holistically, "ruin everyone's good time" by "stirring up drama" about popular fandom artists/writers/whoever else idk. oftentimes these people will also make jokes about fandom whatever, seemingly picking on random people's interests.

however, if you look at the long history of fandom racism, fandom's normalization of p*dophilia, and even general fandom harassment, and then you look at fandom's visceral, unwarranted reaction to criticism regarding these things, you can quickly see that disillusionment towards fandom is entirely reasonable. as for the joking, well...this an oversimplification but not everyone needs to like what you like. it sounds like they just need to get over themself.

and go “You, a 27 year old queer blogger who is into [tv show/anime/movie] an embarrassing amount, are now going to be the face of Capitalism” with no self-reflection or critical thought given to how fucking cringe it is-"

so, i'm regretting putting so much effort into this because this is so fucking long and i have to analyze this nonsense...it feels like i'm back in my feminist thought class. nightmarish. but anyway, this seems to deal with- [CUT FOR LENGTH. nothing important was missed].

EDIT 2: actually here's a summary of what I had. it deserves better than to be a response to this nonsense, but first it detailed how this took 1. the op's post and 2. a comment that we don't even know if op agreed with and misinterpreted that, and threw quite a fit about this- and i hate to say this because this term is misused so often by redditors, but- strawman.

I then went on to discuss how, for example, PoC can uphold systems of white supremacy. while obviously no person of color is going to be the "face" of white supremacy, the discussion still needs to be had, especially within that group. similarly, while fandom constituents may not be the face of capitalism, there needs to be a discussion, within fandom, on how they support and are defined by capitalist (and other) systems.

it was really too good of a point to be making for this trash reply. I could go say more, but I'm still trying to stay on topic, unlike ciaran.

"to act like random people on the internet, end users with no influence over corporate decisions, are the ones personally responsible for the fact that late-stage capitalism has destroyed popular art and culture in an increasingly sordid attempt to make money."

we've been over the "no influence" bit - because in fact fans do have influence, especially since media creators are literally fans, etc etc. i'm tired of people acting like they have no power and using that as an excuse to support and perpetuate harmful, easily avoidable behavior.

also, to act like the nebulous system of late-stage capitalism is the only cause of bad media is ludicrous. first of all, someone has to make these so-called "corporate decisions", and the people making artistic decisions are, again, overwhelmingly members of "fandom." this comment is really trying to keep marvel trash and lore olympus-esque nonsense in the same atomic, indivisible category lest someone catches a whiff of nuance.

"the above post is a great example of this phenomenon because op admits freely that they only think fandom is destroying media because they have been spending more time in fandom and thus have an over-inflated sense of its importance in greater culture. posting your own Ls indeed."

i'm so tired. this person literally has 120 works on ao3 like...who is spending more time in fandom.

and the tags:

#i assure you that fandom has no bearing on my actual real life #and if it does on yours. then that is your problem #it's also a very funny problem to

now this is just egregiously tone deaf. you do not need to do more than a cursory google search to find a bottomless well of examples of fandom harassment, threats, doxxing, and violence, much of which is racially motivated. you can see why it would be bad to make fun of this. 

also the way that “fandom has no bearing on their actual real life“...120 fanfics on ao3. 120.

conclusion:

the reply clearly misinterprets of op's point, and as such, does not refute it. they responded to another issue altogether, which is that of the sanctity of their ~coping mechanism~ or whatever it is. their argument in this respect was, in my opinion, delusional and pathetic, especially given that they wrote it on someone else's unrelated post.

FINAL NOTE: i cut out lots of this because the reply went in so many different directions, so some stuff might not make sense. let me know if you have any questions.

[visit-ba-sing-se]

I recently saw a post by someone asking for a fanfiction in which Azula snapped a bit earlier after things turning out different on the day of Sozin`s comet...and I guess you could say I kind of snapped as well? (it starts after the events at the boiling rock, btw: this (+ more) is also on my ao3 now!

„I love Zuko more than I fear you.“ For a moment, I was struck. Unable to respond, to even process the words. I heard them, but they did not make sense. Then, suddenly everything fell into place. „No, you miscalculated. You should have feared me more.“ I sounded affected. I was affected. That’s weak, Azula. I saw May pulling out a knife and raised my hand the same time, ready to strike. She would not stand a chance. Not even the avatar had been able to take on my lightning. May wasn’t stupid. Of course she knew that. And when I looked her in the eyes I knew that she knew I knew. Suddenly, a part of did not want to throw any lightning at all. A part of me wanted to lower her hand and just let the knife hit her. Or tell may that we would not have to do this. That’s weak, Azula. I heard my fathers voice in my head again, this time with even more disgust. And do I have a weak daughter? Suddenly, I did not see May anymore. Just him, looking down and me, disappointed. There was nothing I would do to escape that look. I took a deep breath, ready to strike for real now. But before I could, I felt a sudden punch into my side. Then another. And before I knew it, I was lying on the ground, unable to move, Ty Lee and May standing above me. Again, it took a moment until my mind had pieced together what just had happened. Ty Lee had betrayed me as well.  May had chosen Zuko over me, and Ty Lee had chosen May over me.

My oldest friends from childhood. The girls I had grown up with. For a moment, they seemed frozen as well. Until Ty Lee broke the silence. Not because she had anything else left to tell me. Just to tell May to get away. Which was useless, of course. There were guards, all around, and they had just attacked their princess. Two quickly came to help me up.

„Your both fools.“ I wanted to sound like I did not care. Like I did not feel like the actual fool in this was me. What had I been expecting from this anyway?  I had had to set a fire in the circus Ty Lee was traveling with in order to get her to join me. And the way May had flung herself at Zuko since the day he had returned should have told me more than clearly where her loyalty lied. Where her loyalty had been lying all the time. With my oh so loveable brother. So when it was time to chose, the choice was clear. Just like for mom. Just like for uncle. Who would ever chose me? Who would ever take my hand if I would not be holding a knife in the other? Shut It down, Azula. You don’t need them. Friends are for people who are too weak to have servants. I took a deep breath in. Yes, I had made a mistake. I taken risks, and even worse, forgotten those risks existed. But I could make sure that would never happen again. And when one of the guards asked what to do next, I had my answer ready.

„Lock up them somewhere were I won’t have to see there faces ever again.“ My voice sounded firm again. A good sound. As I continued, I looked May straight in the eye. She had wanted fear? She could get it. „And let them rot.“

After they had been brought away, I saw the warden walking up to me. A pathetic excuse of a man, who had believed that the little power he possessed somehow made him greater than those around him. Just a big fish in a small pond who believed himself to be a shark. If he had done his job properly, none of this would have happened. I knew that this wasn’t the full truth, but definetly part of it. And I wanted him to know. When he started uttering something between an apology, an explanation and monologue of self pity, I therefore shut him down immediately. „I am sorry, but where you talking to me? Because all I hear is the sound of failure. Which is quite pathetic, honestly“  You should have feared me more, I had told May. Now I would give them a reason too. „Your actions lead to the escape of dangerous war criminals, not to mention a threat to my life. It was pure look your niece didn`t cut my throat.“ I paused, just to enjoy the sight of him twisting his hands in the desperate search for words. How many times had he been the one who made prisoners feel the way he felt now? The thought of this irony truly had something validating to it. „This not only gives you a record of failing at your job. This makes you man who endangered the fire nation and a member of its royal family. And that-“ I allowed myself one more dramatic break, „that is treason. And a man of your education should know what the penalty for treason is.“

He did not even have it in himself to give me an answer. Instead, he sunk down on his knees. I knew I could just kill him right away. One struck of lightning and he would be gone. Or make one of the guards do it. Just because I really started to enjoy this whole irony theme. But that would not be as effective as what I had in mind.

„But you are a lucky man warden,“ I said therefore. „A man should not have to die in the shame of his mistakes.“ Relieve started to build on his face, just to crumble again when I announced:

„So I am giving you away to restore your honor. Agni Kai.“

I felt good. I was in control again. I saw the way they all were looking at me, with fear and admiration balancing in their eyes. The way I deserved to be looked at. The way a future firelord deserved to be looked at.

The warden finally seemed to have found his voice again. „Excuse me princess, what do you mean? You can’t possibly mean….you can’t seriously want…“

„Don`t tell me what I can. In fact, you should be thanking me for this chance to prove yourself. Or are not even man enough to accept this challenge? Can you only duel someone when they are in chains?“

„No, of course not! I can fight! But princess, I could never fight you!“ Though his protest did have something entertaining to it, I decided that it was time to finally get to the point.

„I am afraid you will have too. 5 minutes. Then it is on.“

Just enough time to up up my hair again properly. A few streaks had fallen out, and that was nothing I could use while fighting.

The fight that followed wasn’t even worth the name. A turtle duck would have been a better opponent. Those things at least had shells. But surely it had served his cause. The people here now surely were reminded of where their loyalty had to lie. And who they had to admire. Time to return to the palace. Only that that was not possible. At least not directly, as I had to realize when we came to the spot where my ballon was supposed to be. Zuko. He and his gang of war prisoners must have used it to escape. This was bad. Sure, we could sent for another one. But questions would be asked. I usually never to father about the missions I went on, just in case. If they were successful, he did not ask further questions. If they weren’t, he would never have to know. But know he woudl. I would have to explain what happened. I would have to explain what happened to father. That Zuko got way because I let him. Just when I had thought things were back in control, it all came crumbling down again. Zuko, that idiot. A guard was along to me, but his words did not really get through. They were probably useless anyway. How was it even possible that Zuko had out played me ? He was Zuko, after all. Weak. A quitter. A runaway. He did not outplay you. You outplayed yourself by letting your emotions get in the way of your judgment.

„Princess, princess, are you even listening?“ That annoying guard still had something to say apparently.

„Oh shut it, will you?“ I screamed. „The next words I want to hear from you are `Princess Azula, your ballon has arrived.`if you dare to tell me anything else before that, I swear that the next person you can things to is someone from the spirit world.“ The guard opened his mouth, his eyes wide open, and then closed it again quickly. He nodded so fast and strong that his teeth were clicking together. Also not the most pleasing sound. I snapped my fingers and let a spark fly for emphasis. „And now get of my view.“ Silence, finally. Just the waves crashing against the shore. Waves above which somewhere my brother was flying with his new friends. This was all wrong. I should be on my way home, with him as prisoner. Eager to tell father of my success. And now instead, I would return a failure and did not know how I would be able to face him. He would be disappointed, that was for sure. This had been our once chance at catching Zuko, and I had blown it. Blown it because I had not had  my  own people under control. Still, he had to hear it from me. Every other scenario was even worse, I knew that.

Back at the place, I therefore sent for a servant and asked for a hearing directly. Luckily, it was granted to me soon. At least that was something. Fighting the argue to run back into the direction I had just come from, I made my way to the throne room, entered the heavy door and got close enough to my father to talk to him. There I knelt down.

„Azula, my daughter. What brings you here?“ His voice sounded so friendly. I felt my eyes water. Even though I knew that crying would be the worst thing possible to do. Instead, I therefore tried to sum up the events as well as possible, walking the small line between apology and not admitting failure. A silence followed, only interrupted by the beat of my heart. Father always took  time before he reached a verdict.

„It is unfortunate your brother got away. Especially since this could have been prevented so easily. Did I not teach you to never trust others?“ I nodded. He did. I would not know of any person he had ever trusted with anything. He even cut his own hair because any hairdresser could potentially want him harm. „But you did the right thing to challenge the warden. It gave proof that we will not tolerant weakness. And to not worry, the day of our triumph will come soon“

I did not know how to react. There were many things I had expected, possibilities that I had played out in my head.  This definitely had not been one of them.

All I could so was stutter.„You are not…angry with me?“

„No Azula. Now is not the time get upset about small mistakes. What counts now is the bigger picture. Our plans for the return of the comet.“

„So you don’t think I am just like Zuko now?“ I still did not trust this. What reason did he have to be so kind, so forgiving in face of my failure?

„Azula, of course not. I always knew you were stronger than your brother.“

„Yes father, Thank you.“

„You will be my heir one day. A worthy one.“

I still faced the ground. I knew I was supposed to feel relieved. This was a kinder response than anything I ever could have hoped for. But then I understood. He was showing mercy because I he had no more child left to loose. He needed my because he needed legacy. Someone to pass his empire onto. Someone to pass his empire onto who was not Zuko.

And suddenly I could not help but wonder „If I am stronger, then why am I the one on my knees?“

Later this night, I had trouble finding sleep. When I finally did, I dreamed of the Angi Kai between father and Zuko. Only that it was not down there, but me. And no matter what I did, I wasn’t able to produce any lighting. Or even fire. The audience cheered and applauded my failure. Some even started laughing. I could see Ty Lee and May pointing fingers and whispering. It must have been a long time since they had been this happy. DO I HAVE A WEAK DAUGHTER? My father entered the picture, a dark shadow towering above everything. DO I HAVE A CHILD THAT IS NOT EVEN ABLE TO BEND? Where was my fire? Why couldn’t I reach it? I KNOW YOU ARE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH. „But I am trying!“, I protest. I was trying so hard. I always was. YOU ARE LYING. IF YOU REALLY TRIED, YOU WOULD SUCCEED. But I didn’t. No flames, no matter what I did. And then I felt a sudden heat in my face and knew it was burning. I was burning. I screamed from pain and frustration, and then suddenly I was in my bed again, sitting up straight, shivering and sweating at the same time. I raised my hand and produced a small flame. Good. So my at least my fire was still there. Looking at it flicker helped my calm down a bit. It was like a pathway back to reality. Of course, there were times where I wondered what I would have done. Most of the time, I was convinced that I would never even have gotten into this situation. I would have know when to be quiet. Like I had always know what to do. I knew mom and uncle used to feel sorry for Zuko because of the way dad hat treated him. But that wasn`t really fair. If he had put in a bit more effort, he could have been like me. I worked every day of my life to get where I was now. Only- where exactly was I? I liked to think that was strong and powerful. But if I was, why did I have to kneel in fron of father with tears in his eyes? Why was I always at his mercy, no matter what I did ? Having to beg for admiration? What would be left of my life if he would not be there? What would be left of me? In a way, when Zuko talked back to father he had done something I never would have been able to do. But how could that be? I was the strong one. All he did was run. That was weak. But it was still more than I ever was capable of. I tried to dismiss the thought. It was nothing I even wanted to be capable of. Why would I? I had all reason to stay here. Here, where I would triumph over the avatar together with dad. Here, where I would one day be crowned next firelord. That was everything I wanted. „That is everything I want.“, I exclaimed to the flame that was still hovering over my hand.

The next days passed quickly in preparation of the day of the comet. I trained harder and longer than ever before, and I had one of the medics in the palace fix me a drink to help me sleep. I told myself that it was because I would need the energy. Not because I was scared of any dreams. I felt ready. I would finally prove myself once and for all.

But then, everything came different. I heard of it before it was official, once more happy about my ears all around the place. Someone had seen Zuko and that water girl trying to sneak up on the palace. Typical for him that he had not been able to remain unseen. Not typical for him that he seriously had been wanting to come here to fight. From what I heard, they had not been able to capture him yet. For a short moment I even felt something like respect. A really short  moment, of course. But before I even had time to analyze what this meant, I heard a knock on my door. To my greatest surprise, it was father. I could not recall any time he had ever come here himself instead of sending a servant.

„Azula,“ he said while doing something that came strangely close to smiling. „My wonderful daughter. I am sure you have heard the news.“

I nodded, overwhelmed. „Yes. Zuko is coming.“

„Zuko is about to be caught by our guard.“ The way he pronounced my brother name was dripping from disgust, his face turning into a twisted mask of hatred. “And I want him gone before I set for the earth kingdom, and he will be brought here as soon as possible.“

„But“ I blurted out, „Is the earth kingdom not more important? You are just wasting time on him.“ I knew it was a mistake, but I just could not hold back. „Azula, get yourself under control again. I decided what is a waste of time and what is not. This will be over soon anyway. Come with me now.“ I lowered my look and my voice. „Coming? To where?“ „To where I will end your brothers pathetic existence once and for all and you will be my witness. The throne room. You have 30 minutes.“ With those word, he left as quickly as he had come. Jut another order from him to me.

I went to the morrow and started fixing my hair, but stress continues to fall out. Not even that could work out. Why was I even trying? I did not want to do this. I did not want to go to the throne room and watch my father execute my brother. I did not want to sit by his side patiently like a trained dog. But then what did I want? I should want this. „I am sure you don`t want to hurt your brother Azula.“ The echo of what my mom had said to me a long time ago suddenly come up in my head, and I believed to see here face behind me in the mirror. She used to say that a lot, when Zuko and I had been fighting, just kids starting to get a hold of their bending. „Well, what do you know? You think I am monster anyway.“ I looked her reflection straight in the eye. „ I know you are confused and hurt. But it does not have to be this way. And I love you, Azula.“

„Liar“ I screamed, punching the mirror. Her image scatter to hundreds of tine pieces, each as sharp as a razor blade. I felt a tear running down my cheek as I saw the scrambled reflection of myself on the floor. Yes, I was hurt. And yes, I did not have to be this way. I picked up one of the fragments. It felt cold and heavy in my hand. Today, a member of tis family would die. But it would not be my brother.

When I arrived at the throne room, punctual and a perfect picture of a fire princess, I found it empty except for dad who had already taken place on the throne. „This is family business, so I decided it would be most fitting if we were to remain amongst each other.“ Now where I looked the way he wanted me to look again, it seemed like I also again was worthy of being spoke to in a normal tone. I nodded and closed the door behind me. „I will end your brother right here, where he had the nerve to disrespect me during the day of the black sun.“ I heard my speak, but the words did not really reach me. My heart was beating out of control. This was my chance. My one moment to strike before the guards would come to bring in Zuko. My hand was twisted around the fragment. „Then, it will only be us, Azula. The only ones truly worthy to lead this nation. The only once who deserve to be part of this family.“ Of course. It was up to him to decided who was worthy and who was not. That was what he was best at. Determining everyone`s worth just how he liked. Determining my worth. But no more. I arrived at the spot I normally would kneel. I lowered my head, but not to bow. But to get a better aim.

The fragment flew through the air, directly into my father’s heart. A quite simple move. May had thaught it to me long time ago, in what now felt like another life. And I had not stopped training until I had brought it to perfection. Deadly perfection. My father had not gotten the chance to scream. Now he looked down on himself in disbelieve. Then at me. And then, with blood running out of his mouth and the light in his eyes already fading, I saw that he understood. „Foolish girl.“ His voice was quiet, his life was ending, and still his words struck me. „Don`t you know you only are because of me? You just killed yourself, too.“ Then, his head fell to side. He was dead.

Was I not supposed to feel free now? Or triumphant? Or just anything at all?  Then why did I just feel nothing at all? Still, now, what next? I knew that I had had a plan. All I had to do was breath and follow t through.  I would get May and Ty Lee, and then we would get out of here.

Foolish. As if anything could ever go back to how it was. Do you think they would even care to look at  you? The voice in my head. Why wasn’t it gone? Father was dead. Why was he still talking to me. „Yes they would,“ I exclaimed loudly. „They are my friends. They love me“ Your friends who betrayed you and tried to get you killed? Doesn’t really sound like much love to me. „Then I will make them love me again!“ I felt despair building up, replacing the emptiness. The same way you’d them love you the first time? With a knife to the throat? People like us are not loved Azula, we are feared. I thought I taught you this. I screamed. Even in death, he still seemed to rule over me. Blue fire streamed out of my palms and set the room on fire. I saw the flames rising. I looked so majestic. My beautiful fire, the only thing that had never betrayed me. My beautiful flames. My loyal friends. A part of me wanted to give myself into the completely. Wanted to stay here and be devoured by their heat. What else was there left for me anyway? Everything was out of control. And I was all alone, except for father and his voice inside my head. Mom. Iroh. Zuko. May. Ty Lee. They had all left me. What difference would my death still make?. Would anybody out there even care? They did not leave Azula. You made them go. And they would care. Because they would be relieved. Dying seemed so easy. Every other breath felt hard. If I would die now, did I really just kill father? Or did father also kill me? Suddenly, I felt a new kind of determination in me „You are not going to take me with you father, you hear that ?“ Tears flooded my cheek just to be vaporized in the heat. „I am leaving this. I am leaving you.“ The flames cracked. It nearly sounded like laughter. Just now I realized how far they had processed already. A blue sea  all around me. A blue sea that was out of control. Smoke already clouded my sight. Now as I finally knew I had to get out, as I had just decided to leave father and this place behind, it would not let me go. I could not even make out the door. Just clouds of smoke and flames. And in them… people? Right in front of me, the scheme of a woman manifested. Others followed, surrounding me. Some seemed to be children, others elders. „We came to take you, Azula.“ They came from everywhere now, constantly getting closer. I tried to bend the fire against them, but the flames left them completely unaffected. This wasn’t real. It could not be. I was hallucinating from the smoke, that was all. One more reason to get out of here. „You can’t escape now, Azula. We have been waiting for you for so long.“ I wanted to cover my ears with my hand, but that meant that I would have to let go of the flames I was still trying to get under control well enough to get out. „Who are you? What do you want from me?“ „Oh Azula, you know us well. Can you not recognize us ?“ The woman who had been leading them reached out for me. I backed away and screamed, even though I could barely even fill my lungs anymore. „No! No I do not know you!“ She reached out again. They were everywhere around me now. The only way to escape her touch was to the ground. „But you should, Azula. They are all those who you killed.“  Suddenly, here face got clear, and she wasn’t a scheme anymore. „And a child should be able to recognize her mother“. It was her. The same kind and beautiful face. The soft voice. But no in the strict tone that always seemed to be reserved for me. It was her nice tone. Her Zuko tone. Even though she was speaking about awful things. But what even did she mean ? I did not kill her. Or did I ? Nothing made sense anymore. I killed my father. Why would not I be capable to kill my own mother as well? „Mom“, I whispered, my voice nothing more than a dying hush. She knelt down and reached out her hand. „Come on child. It is time to go.“ My heart was racing. In my lungs, there was nothing but pain. I wanted to let her take me away, just for all of this to stop. But even more, I just wanted to hold my mothers hand again. So I gathered al strength I still had in me and reached out to her. But just as I was about to touch her fingertips, she suddenly started to fade, just like everything around her. Even the flames seemed to get smaller. And another scheme stepped out of the dust and into my view. „Azula?“, he asked. A familiar voice. Zuko. What was he doing here? I didn’t kill him. Or did I ? I sounded like he was getting closer, but I could not keep my eyes open for long enough to watch him. The darkness felt good, calming. „Azula!“ This time he screamed. It definitely was his voice. Could the dead really scream like that? „Azula! Spirits, Azula, what did you do?“

Yes, what did I do? If only I knew.

[rosaline-kei]

Oh my god that yandere armin x mikasa fanfic was sooooo good. Reading that really brightened up my day thank you for taking my request! I realllyy can't wait for part 2!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 2/2

Synopsis:  Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Requested By: @bobfregmegler

If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: Thank you for liking it! Here’s the second and final part. I hope you’ll enjoy it <3. There’s a slight twist at the end?? Sorta. It’s up to your personal interpretation.

-

Mikasa could handle her own, Armin knew. Alongside her striking beauty, was her prowess in pure, physical strength. But, that didn’t mean Armin should lower his guard.

It didn’t mean he shouldn’t protect her.

Scanning the crowded room, it didn’t take him long to spot them. Not when the herd of uncivilised barbarians stuck out like a sore thumb, with their yapping and hollering; their disruptive noises that dared ruin his serenity.

They were sitting together, and aside from all the chaos that erupted from their mouths, reverberating about, they were enjoying the sight of voluptuous women putting on a performance in front of them while wolfing down their bottles of beer. The next thing Armin knew, he was eavesdropping.

“What a show!” One of them exclaimed enthusiastically before clapping, “Too bad it wasn’t that oriental lady! Ahh! What a waste, I tell ya!” Armin tensed, his hand diving into the secret compartment of his jacket, searching impatiently for his dagger.

Wait, no… Control. He reminded, hand abruptly halting in its search. Upright killing them in this crowd is silly… and luring them out might take too long… I don’t want to keep Mikasa waiting. He considered. That only leaves one other option…

“Do yer’ think we can get a grab of her? I saw her enter that motel nearby…” His friend hiccupped, taking another swig of alcohol. Cheeks flustering; not because of the alcohol, though. Armin felt his stomach twist. “Her friend looks like a puny piece of shit anyway…” A smirk decorated the blonde’s expression.

“Ha! Why not?” He smirked deviously, “You don’t see Orientals these days… and can yer’ get us a little more alcohol pal? The encore’s gonna start! And then after… I’ll gather the boys and…” The revolting, impure look said it all, and that was enough eavesdropping for Armin, who felt his patience and control thinning; the taut thread waiting to just… snap!

I’ll kill you. He swallowed, eying his prey that departed from the pack, staggering towards the counter, bargaining with the bartender for another few bottles. He waited, as much as it pained him, he waited, for the right moment. To make the right move.

Luck seemed to be on his side, given how his doltish and stupid prey appeared to be distracted, his attention being directed towards a pig-tailed brunette who revealed a little too much. Watching his mouth water as he slid himself toward the brunette infuriated Armin; did he think about Mikasa like that, too? His Mikasa?

Control. Control. Armin, you can’t let loose, yet. He reprimanded himself, shaking his head, recalibrating himself. Before he knew it, the ugly drunkard and the lady got themselves entangled, swaying back into the crowd.

Perfect.

“OI!” The bartender yelled at the man, who clearly forgotten his order. “YOUR DRI—”

“I’ll deliver it to them!” Armin exclaimed in an awfully high-pitched tone, eyes fluttering as he emerged from the shadows, twirling his way in front of the bartender who looked at the blonde questioningly. “Oh, come on, I don’t wanna keep them waiting! I want to impress them!” He had his lips pouted out, arms crossed, internally praying he’d buy this gimmick. If he could pass off as Historia with a wig and a skirt, this shouldn’t be that much of an issue. Besides, based on his intuition and gut, this particular bartender didn’t seem like the sharpest man out there; he appeared to be more flippant and frivolous.

“Whatever… I’ve seen too much shit, and I’m not paid enough.” He waved his hand dismissively at Armin, evidently fed-up with whatever he had going on in his life. Not that Armin cared though. He was just grateful that his intuition was right.

“Thank youuuu!” He squeaked, smiling all too brightly, before carrying the tray of beers away.

To a secluded corner, where the edges of his smile sunk, grimly settling into a frown

Quietly, he removed a vial containing a form of floral poison he had extracted from a flower not too long ago. It was back when they resided in the woods with the rest of the squad, when he accompanied Mikasa one day to gather wood.

“Careful!” She warned when the blonde nearly trampled on a patch of violet blossoms. “Those are poisonous…” She explained, before rambling on about how her late mother once told her how these killer flowers were commonly mistaken for another more innocent breed, and how it would irritate your skin, possibly leaving long-lasting scars if you got too close to it. “Poisonous, huh?” Armin said, intrigued. How… useful. He didn’t say that out-loud. And it didn’t take Armin long to find out the effects of consuming such a deadly little thing. (How he found out, Armin didn’t have the time to recall his experimentation).

Cautiously, he dripped the deadly liquid into each of the beer mugs, letting it swim and camouflage in the yellow drink, staying hidden, awaiting to strike when indulged. Luckily I brought this along… You never know what trespassers you’ll meet. He noted to himself, eying the idiotic bunch.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with his performance.

“Heeeyyyy sirs!” Armin chirped as he skipped his way to the hooligans, wearing a cheeky smile as he set the venomous tray down.

He watched as their eyes watched him carefully, and as he had anticipated, they were too intoxicated to even remember who he was, or the fact that he wasn’t a woman. “Ehhh? What happened to t—”

“Ah, who cares? That bastard’s probably humped himself elsewhere. Tsk!” The man spat, unconcerned with the disappearance of his other friend. “Besidesss,” He droned out, shooting an inappropriate look towards Armin’s direction, licking his lips ravenously. “We got a flat babe here to fool with before we chase the Oriental… c’mon, join us—”

“You should drink first!” Armin insisted, arms and legs both crossed as he continued, “I wanna go wear my specciiaaalll bunny costume for you… delightful men…and maybe get a couple of my friend to join, after all, you guys seem like charming folk!” He persuaded, a slight whine echoing towards the end of his statement.

“Bunny costume eh?” He watched as their face twisted into something nauseating as they let their fantasies run wild.

Disgusting. Impure.—Those were words Armin associated with people like them; people that dared cross that line. Fortunately for him, they’d never have the chance to inflict those fantasies on Mikasa. Not after this.

“Be right back!” He giggled, stepping back into the crowd as they raised their jugs, exclaiming eagerly that they have scored one, before chugging all of it down.

“Drunkard fools.” He uttered under his breath, his giggling and cheerful appearance alike coming to a halt, replaced by a cruel yet excited look. Alas, Armin began the countdown.

10.

He watched as they continued chattering amongst themselves, full of corrupted exhilaration as they waited for Armin to supposedly return with toys and goods for them to exploit.

9, 8.

He watched them starting to shift uncomfortably, something itched.

7,6.

Something was set ablaze in their throats, they first shrugged it off as the burning aftermath of alcohol at 7, but at 6, they started to drown themselves with beer, then water in hopes of extinguishing whatever was burning.

5,4.

Then, the world spun before darkness enveloped some of them. The others who were still stubbornly fighting against the flame, refusing to surrender to their abrupt fate, dropped to the ground, one by one, choking. No one paid too much attention, having either assumed they drank one too many bottles or were too engrossed with the music; with their dance to debauchery.

3.

They gasped for air. Pathetically, helplessly. Armin watched with elatedness, although he was a little disappointed with himself that he had given them a quick and easy death. If he hadn’t promised Mikasa that he was to be back within forty-five minutes, perhaps blood would’ve been spilled. Perhaps he’d have something else schemed, to drag out their death, to make it excruciating. Ahhh! What a missed opportunity! He couldn’t help but think as he bit his lip, watching their deaths unfold.

2.

Everything became numb, from their flesh right to their bones. Everything became limp; everything, all their nerves started to relax itself—settling them down into an ugly afterlife or hell. That was what they deserve.

1.

Death washed them over, stilling them completely. P-e-r-f-e-c-t. Armin hummed, pleased by the results. Turning away, he snuck his way to the back-exit before anyone could notice that they were, in all actuality, dead.

I can’t believe I had to use that high-pitched tone… ahhhh! How embarrassing! Not to mention, I still have to buy bread... what a troublesome day! He huffed calmly, taking a glance at his watch. I have eighteen minutes left… geez, time flies too fast…Ah! I should get some bread for Mikasa too! He smiled, rubbing the hand that Mikasa touched, feeling and embracing her lingering warmth. I should hurry…

He wanted to see her, quickly. To gaze at her undying beauty, inhale the sweet scene her entire being emanated, perhaps to even embrace her… to lay next to her—if Mikasa’s offer was still on the table; he wouldn’t force anything on her.

Never.

“Ah… I wonder if they have the bread Mikasa likes—”

Having been too engrossed in his thoughts about the raven, he had failed to pick-up the approaching, threatening steps that headed towards his direction; failed to be aware of his surroundings.

He had carelessly fallen prey, his words cut off when a bloody barbarian shoved him against the wall face-front, gripping both his hands.

“Y-YOU…! YOU MURDERED THEM RIGHT?!”

Ah, right. Him.

It wasn’t Armin’s intention to keep him alive out of his own good heart, he thought it’d be humorous to let him be the only one living while his other friends died. It was wicked, sure. But in his mind, it was his own fault for being so careless to leave the drinks right there, in his reach—and maybe Armin would’ve sincerely thanked him for that, if he hadn’t touched that hand.

“I…I saw you serving them that fucking shit!”

His grip was wavering, trembling. Armin couldn’t tell if it was due to some form of developing trauma eating him up, or the fact that he was still drunk. Either way, that wasn’t his primary concern at the moment.

“I…I will kill y—”

“…ouched…th… and…at…he…” Armin’s words were at first inarticulate, as he tried to comprehend the sin that this man had just commit.

How dare he.

“H-Huh?!—”

Interrupted by a successful kick to his groin thanks to his incompetency of securing his entire body properly, Armin threw him on the ground, his feet crushing his face. “How… dare… you…” His voice started out low as he squatted down, glaring daggers at him while his right hand searched for one of his own.

“W-W—”

“How…dare you touch this hand?” He lifted up his left hand, while his right snatched out a dagger that had been waiting in a hidden compartment of his attire. “You know…? Don’t you know…? I knew you barbarians were idiots but I didn’t expect you to be this stupid… This… This was the hand that she touched… and you—” He pointed the dagger right at his throat, tracing it round and round, finding some amusement as he watched his hunter-turn-prey’s eyes follow the knife, evidently terrified.

“…And you fucking contaminated it.” He cursed, head tilting in this flummoxing being right in front of him. He couldn’t understand nor comprehend how someone could be this impolite, this inconsiderate. Even Captain Levi—who had once lived in this place—never did something so offensive!

“I…I… Y…You’re a sick bastard!” The man choked out; and before he could even have the chance to struggle, the dagger pierced right through his throat.

Armin watched the life drain from his eyes. “Sick bastard…me? But what about you?” He said in an accusatory tone, dragging out the plunged dagger, trailing it around his eyeballs, paying no mind to the blood that spewed out. “I saw that look… you know? The look you and your low-lives gave her... and I heard… what you planned to do to her and oh… did that ticked me off.” He said, an eerie chuckle following after as he aimed the tip of the dagger at the lower end of his eye, tempted to dig it out, and perhaps hang it as ornaments somewhere far away; where that look wouldn’t reach Mikasa.

But alas, he didn’t have the time. There was still the bread.

“Ahhh, I’m going to be late!” He groaned as he stood up, patting off any dirt or dust that stained his clothes; he’d have to deal with the blood later. Albeit, he was careful enough not to let it stain too much on his clothes. “Maybe in your next life, you could be a little more considerate of wasting people’s time… honestly, was seeing your dead friends not enough? Ah! Or you could rot in hell! That way you won’t bother this ‘puny little shit’ anymore… right? Right? Hah!” Armin shook his head, taking one last laugh at his idiocy before strolling off, unbothered to clear the mess. It was the underground after all; decomposing bodies and murders weren’t a rarity. And right now, he doubted the military police would even bother with an investigation, given the corruptness of the system, and the trouble the corps were stirring up.

What a day.

“Hmm… I wonder if the bread shop has that bread she likes a lot…” He hummed.

-

Armin stood outside silently. He was a twist of the doorknob away from reuniting with his love.

It is unlikely Mikasa is asleep, no matter how exhausted she is. Armin calculated, and then took a glimpse at the edge of his sleeves where a faint crimson stain remained smudged. The room is dark, it has poor lighting… she won’t see this… then again, she has sharp eyes… ahh… Well, even if she does, I’ll think of a reason… I wouldn’t want to worry her. But if she’s asleep… I’ll just set the bread down and make a run to the washroom.

Taking a deep breath and grasping the packet of loaves, he entered the dimly lit room, closing the door after. “Mikasa… I got you some bread if you want to eat it, oh and it’s not that stale! Even if you’re not hungry, it could be tomorrow’s breakfast before we have to set out in search of those documents…” Armin spoke, settling the package down.

Albeit, before he could do a full scan of the room in search of the raven, he was met with a sharp pair of familiar obsidian orbs that never failed to steal his breathe away. “M-Mikas—”

“You’re… early.”

“I…I didn’t want to keep you waiting…” She’s close. Armin noted, feeling her breath brush the exposed surface of his neck; needless to say, it sent a thrill down his spine. It was difficult to contain, control. “I…Is something the matte—”

“No, No… I’m glad, you’re back safe—”

“Your wrist!” Armin gasped; withdrawing himself from his lovesickness the moment his eyes caught sight of a scar that stretched form the top of her wrist to god knows where. Did… someone come here? Did I miscount? Did I miss someone? I’m sure all of them drank the poison… and I even made sure to get rid of the last… who did it? I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have—… but… who did it? Who dared to touch h—

“I was… just checking if our gear was working, and I accidentally cut myself.” Mikasa assured, “Even in the dark…” She took a step closer. “Your eyes never miss a thing, do they?” Whether it was meant to be a praise or not, Armin took it as one.

“But don’t worry, I’m fine.” She smiled, hand reaching out for his. And Armin would’ve let her. Hell, did he desire her soothing touch. Words that she can’t say, she made it up for her actions. Armin loved that about her. Just a tight squeeze of her hand on his was already overwhelming, it was heaven and earth and all of serenity. He wanted to feel it, but then he remembered it.

Panicked and instinctively, he took a step back, his hands hidden behind his back.

He won’t let her hands be contaminated too, with that filth.

“A…Armin?”

“A-Ah! No… I’m just a little dirty, that—”

“Not that.” She said, a finger pointing towards the faint smudge on his sleeve. “…Is that…--”

“Jam.”

“Jam…?—”

“The bread shop owner spilled some on me when she was taking the bread. Ahhh, it doesn’t matter now! Geez Mikasa you don’t need to be so worried.” Armin quickly brushed it off. He looked at her worried eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.” Even in the dark… he thought, admiring her eyes as his hand reached out about to caress her cheek, your eyes are sharp too—

But froze when he recalled how filthy.

“A-Ah! Sorry… I—” And then, Mikasa nuzzled herself in his palm, Armin’s eyes widened in horror. “M-Mikasa! I’m dirt—”

“It’s fine.” Armin flinched. What? “Because it’s you, it’s fine. I couldn’t care less.”

Armin felt his heart skip, race, palpitate.

He wanted to hold her longer, closer, tighter. He was obsessed. But… he couldn’t risk her noticing that that red patch, wasn’t jam.

“I-I… I’m going to take a quick shower!” He coughed, before forcefully dismissing himself.

Once he closed the door, his back hit the wall and slid down. He held the hand that had the blessing of touching her cheeks. Were they… pink? Armin couldn’t tell due to the lighting. He bit his lip. I love her. He couldn’t help but think. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so filthy anymore.

Caressing the hand, he once again savoured the warmth that was there. Never again, was he going to be so careless to let anyone stain it with their own trace of impurity.

I love her. I love her. I love her, so much. He bit his lip. Nobody’s… I’ll make sure nobody will bother you.

Nobody.

--

Mikasa heaved a heavy sigh. I wonder if that was really Jam… I can’t tell anymore, not in this dark. Not when… Her eyes glimpsed at her fresh scar, and while Armin may not notice due to his little adventure that Mikasa was unaware of, there was a faint scent of blood in the air. Not Armin’s, not the man he killed, and not—

At least he looks fine… he’s… Her cheeks blush, as her hand reached out to touch the side that Armin touched. He’s safe…

She bit her lip. I’ll make sure he’s safe.

--

A/N: Is Mikasa a Yandere too, hm? Well. I left it ambiguous! So it’s up to your personal interpretation <3

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “The Challenge”

(Insert evil laugh) manipulating people’s emotions shouldn’t be this much fun. I loved writing this, part two to “Out of Warp” linked below. Ha ha, I had a grin on my face the entire time because none of you got it quite right, and I love it. I very much hope you enjoy how things are unfolding, if you can keep my appraised of how you are feeling on how things are unfolding, I would appreciate it. 

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/183722582375/humans-are-space-orcs-out-of-warp

General Cosma stood at the head of the small shuttle just behind the pilot’s chair lording over her domain with a steely eye. Her soldiers sat stiffly in their seats with their weapons resting softly on their laps. The rest were aboard the human ship patrolling and ready to quell any sense of uprising. She knew better than anyone the kind of problems humans can cause. Break their spirits, not their bodies, they have this way or rebuilding themselves when you break them apart.

She had proof of that too.

The human “Captain” Slumped on his knees at the center of the ship. His hands were tied behind his back, his wrists locked to the ankles of his legs. His head was bowed, the human did not move. She was quite pleased with her soldiers, with herself. After the war she had spent many long hours planning her revenge against the humans. She was forced to learn about the squishy disgusting creatures in her search for answers.

The Galactic Alliance should not have made access to medical and psychological studies so widely available. With the help of the rest of the Drev they had perused these documents to find the truth of humans, their true weakness. Sickness wouldn’t do, injury wouldn’t do. Physically, the creatures were surprisingly hard to kill, and she didn’t wish to kill them…. She wished to do something worse.

She could see it now in the posture of the human, the defeat written alone the lines of his body as he lay kneeling at her feet. The human that had killed her mate, and the closest human to the Galactic Alliance she could think of. The other Drev tribes spoke with each other about alliance with the galactic community, a thought that made her skin crawl and her insides burn. The last thing she wanted was an alliance, she wanted war, she wanted to destroy them all for what they had gone and done. It would take much longer for her plans to unfold on a galactic level, but, for now, she would take her personal revenge.

Looking down the line of her soldiers, she caught sight of the bright metallic blue shape hunched in the darkness of the back corner. It was quite a beautiful color for carapace, rather rare, but it hardly mattered when the height was taken into consideration. Cosma’s daughter, Sunny. Compared to her elder brother, since birth had failed to maintain family expectations. Even despite her good breading, she had been born to short, to stubborn, and with too much a mind of her own. She had embarrassed the family repeatedly for years and years bringing Cosma to the brink of just letting her go in the volcanic lands. She wasn’t a particularly good soldier, but she had played her part this time.

She was a good spy.

Cosma had come up with the idea during the night while reading over one of the papers, slowly trying to peace out the strange alien language coming across something called “pack bonding”. Apparently humans had the capabilities to socially bond with pretty much anything. It was strong enough to bond with other species, and even with inanimate objects. They were known for being surprisingly gullible and trusting if given the right circumstances, so she thought….. it couldn’t hurt, but who would be expendable enough to try.

A daughter desperate to win her mother’s favor perhaps? Yes…. That would be good enough. She would be small enough for the humans anyway, less threatening.

And it had worked, Worked so much better than she could have imagined. She chuckled at the thought. The human actually seemed to have thought they were allies, friends even. Oh how niece could he have been. Like a Drev could ever be friends with a human. Besides, even Sunny wouldn’t have been stupid enough to foster such a bond. Friendships weren’t for rue soldiers, and Sunny was desperate to be a good solider.

Outside, in the vastness of space, the reflected light of their moon broke through the darkness cutting through the window and onto the human’s porcelain skin. It was a stomach churning sight, like the dried skin of a maggot, or a mossworm. She stepped forward grabbing the human below the chin and lifting his head.

He didn’t bother to fight against her hand. One green eye stared bleakly out at her from the creature’s face. She turned his head towards the window, “See that, worm.” The green eye failed to focus for a long moment, she shook him, “The moon.” The human pupil locked onto it, and an odd dark shadow upon its planet-side surface. She let him go, “The Galactic Assembly does not have a monopoly on technology. Our scientists developed it, a device that can sense and disrupt warp tunnels, quite the feat don’t you think?”

The human said nothing dropping his head once again, “We’ve been waiting for you for a while… did you know, information is also sent through warp tunnels, your radio signals. They wouldn’t make it across the universe otherwise. Much faster than that ship of yours, but if you have a signature, you can catch them. That Vrul of yours is a very astute little weevil, and he has a habit of recording your plotted courses in his transmissions to the Galactic Assembly, Isn’t that interesting?”

The human said nothing slumping even further towards the floor. The maggoty skin on its face was wet under the single eye.

Uh…. Pathetic. She walked past the creature kicking it over with a kick of her foot. It hit the deck with a clatter and a grunt. The soldiers that sat around looked on in humorless boredom. At the back of the shuttle Sunny was turned away.

“Daughter, come here.” Cosma snapped.

When Sunny didn’t move immediately, she was hauled to her feet, “That was an order, soldier.” She hissed

Sunny looked at her with a blank expression. Her golden eyes, So much like Cosma’s, were blank and unseeing as she stared straight forward.  

They were entering the atmosphere now, and the shuttle rattle and jerked around them. Sunny reached for the side of the shuttle wall to steady herself. Cosma watched the movement as she did. Something was strange about her daughter, something in the way she moved. It was oddly…. Predatory, not like a warrior, but like something else, was it the way her eyes moved, slowly tracking the moving landscape both inside and outside the shuttle. Whatever it was, it was hardly the Drev thing to do, and it made her uneasy. She would have to speak with Sunny about that in the intervening hours.

The shuttle landed against the stone with a rocky thud that jarred the two of them forward. Cosma took a few steps forward to balance herself. Sunny kept her grip against the outer edge of the shuttle. As the engines shut off and began to cool, Cosma slapped her hand against the release button, “Watch the worm.” She ordered her soldiers, pushing outside and onto the rocky, moss covered face of the Drev homeworld.

Behind her, Sunny took a few hesitant steps pausing to look up at the sky and the volcanic ash which blotted out the sun. The landscape was awash with the red haze of the filtered sunlight. Distant dwelling crouched in the moss interwoven with small specks that were, clearly, other Drev.

Cosma walked the two of them away from the ship pausing to look down at their village, just on the outskirts of the fertile belt. She liked it here, with their backs against the volcanic lands, they had a greatly defensible position. She didn’t bother to look at Sunny as she stared down at the village, “Your report, soldier.”

There was a long silence, Cosma turned to look at her with annoyance, and only then did Sunny speak, “You got what you wanted, what is there to report?”

Cosma’s movement was almost too fast to be perceived, and the slap landed with a sharp crack Sunny’s head jerking to the side. Cosma stepped back arms crossed a muscle in her cheek twitching, “Don’t you dare backtalk me, I want to know why it took you so damn long! You were out there almost a year cavorting with the creature that killed your father. And it seems that a year hasn’t done anything to curb your insolence.”

Sunny slowly turned her head back to look at her mother, “I don’t fly the ship, General, I don’t decide where we go; that’s the captain’s job. Plus we stopped on Earth for a few months, and that wasn’t in my power either.”

Cosma barked a sharp tone of bitter laughter, “Taking orders from humans….. wait….. earth you say?”

Sunny paused, “Yes?”

Fire sparked in Cosma’s eyes, “You’ve been to their homeworld?” When sunny said nothing Cosma began pacing very suddenly and excitedly up and down the outcropping, “You know where it is, you could take us there. Oh daughter….. this is better than I could have planned.” She turned to look at Sunny, “Do you understand what this means?”

Sunny shook her head as Cosma beamed teeth gritted, “You have finally managed to do something right.”

Cosma turned away unaware of Sunny’s reaction if she had one at all, the possibilities of knowing the location of the human homeworld was too exciting. She had so many plans, plans that would be fulfilled all thanks to her daughter. Who would have thought something so ludicrous, but it was true.

***

Captain Vir knelt at the center of the ship head hanging low, heart hanging even lower. How could he have been so stupid, so trusting? It was so obvious, you couldn’t trust a Drev, especially not the Drev that mutilated you on the field of battle, and now he was going to die, his crew was going to die, all because he was so stupid and so trusting.

He felt hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, once he would have fought them down, but he let them flow freely now, what did he have to loose, his dignity? That was already gone. Small dark droplets thudded softly against the shuttle’s metal floor. His entire body hurt, his soul hurt, and he was attached to it, the LEG, a piece of her, the very symbol of his idiocy and trusting nature. He desired nothing more than to rip it off and throw it across the room, scream and curse, rip this entire damn planet apart. The Courts had been right, he had been a fool, he should never have brought her aboard the ship. Inside his chest, his heart twisted with a terrible constricting beat that closed up his throat like that bitch still had him around the throat.

He squeezed his eyes shut as thoughts of his fallen crewmembers flashed through his head. Krill lying lifeless over the seats. His lieutenant bloodied, his coms expert twisted into a horribly painful position, and his dog lying whimpering and unable to move. The surge of hatred that followed those images could have torn him apart, would have torn him apart if he let them, but instead the flow of tears only increased in intensity as he stared at the floor below. Around him the Drev soldiers stared on in silence.

A loud clatter at the back of the shuttle, and he glanced up from under his bowed head to see the General step in, trailing Sunny in her wake. He could barely look at her, the traitor, could barely look at those blank, and unfeeling eyes. The general stopped to stand over him hooting with sadistic glee as she dragged him to his feet by the hair. He gasped in pain and struggle against her. He tried his best to keep his feet as she dragged him towards the exit, “Look at what you’ve done, worm.” She laughed, “You’ve condemned your entire species to destruction. You idiot, giving away the coordinates of your home planet.” More cutting laughter, “Once I’m done with you, your planet is next.”

Even to his own ears, the sound Adam let off in response to the revelation was horrible, a strangled sob mixed with a pained scream, not physical pain, but horrible psychological pain. His cry broke across the open space bouncing outwards and down the hillside. Heads snapped upwards to look at they passed, as he was dragged down the dark obsidian pathway ad towards the center of the village where a large circle was carved into the stone.

He was thrown to his belly there tears wetting the rocks turning the black stone blacker and washing away the dust. His mother had been right, and now, because of him, they were all going to die. His brothers, his sister, his Neace and nephew, his father. He had condemned them to death

What had he done?

Around the circle, other Drev had begun to congregate, watching the spectacle with their impassive, angular faces multiple hands and arms still occupied with their earlier tasks, now forgotten. The traitor stood in front of him, but he couldn’t look at her.

The general stepped over him, still laughing as she raised her staff, and brought it down against him with a hard crack. He gritted his teeth against the pain, unwilling to give her anymore satisfaction with his cries.

She chuckled, “Don’t worry, worm, I’ll make this slow.” She lifted her head to the other Drev, ranting and raving like a madman speaking of revenge, of her dead mate, of the war. As she spoke she grew in frenzy. Looking around, the captain was confused to find the Drev staring on blankly, a blankness that covered….. something more.

Her rant grew to a crescendo before she leaned down, “Earth is next,” She hissed, and then spit out a string of umbers at him. For a moment, he couldn’t tell what the words were supposed to mean. Suddenly, it dawned on him….. Coordinates. His heart sank, but, something was wrong. He ran the numbers over in his fuddled mind for another long minute. As he did, his heart quickened, he ran them again, and as he did once, twice, three times, a sharp bark of laughter broke from his throat.

The general stepped back in shock and confusion. The laughter grew from choked to manic, until he was howling with it. The tears that now ran down his face were tears of mirth, he looked up at her through bursts of laughter, “You…. Idiot.”

Anger in her eyes, the general lunged forward slamming him back against the stone. He felt the leg of his pants rip as they caught against stone. The breath was driven from his lungs, and the laughter cut off.

“What are you laughing about you insolent maggot.”

“Those…. Aren’t…. coordinates to… earth.” He choked out through his gasps. She stared at him uncomprehending. He couldn’t help the laughter, “Those are the coordinates, for the black hole in Messier 31. In other words NOT coordinates for Earth, but the supermassive black hole at the center of Andromeda you absolute fuckwit, not even in the right fucking galaxy.”

The laughter broke from his throat again.

She stood in terrible anger jabbing her staff towards him, “You LIE you-“ She paused suddenly, her eyes dropping down to his legs, and the torn fabric. Her eyes widened and then narrowed.

With a quick jab, she cut the fabric the rest of the way, and the two pieces fell apart to reveal the glittering prosthetic, and the metallic carapace, which covered it.

A gasp filled the square, the General froze in place her body tensing fire igniting in her eyes. She turned towards Sunny who stood outside the circle. Her blank expression had grown to one of absolute and sadistic satisfaction.

“What did you do…..” The general choked out.

She bared her teeth at her mother in a very human snarl, “What’s wrong, mother, did someone ruin your execution.”

“YOU, YOU….” She suddenly deflated, taking a deep breath, “No matter, I can still duel him. It will be like an execution anyway, and THEN. I deal with you.”

“No mother, you deal with me NOW.”

Her voice rose so the entire village could hear, “General Cosma, I Weapons Officer Sunny challenge you to a duel!”

    https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

[wreckofawriter]

Fine Line

Word count: 2,459

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Pureblood!Reader

Warnings: A bit of swearing

Summary: When Y/N sworn enemy stands up for her she is left confused by a confession.

A/n: Sorry I havent posted in a while I have been unbelievably busy.

Not my gif btw credit to owner

“There was a fine line between love and hate you heard that cliche all the time. But no one told you that the moment they crossed it would be the one least expected. You’d fall in love and crack open a secret door to let your soul mate in You just never expected such closeness one day to feel like an intrusion” - Jodi Picoult

You had heard the saying there is a fine line between love and hate too many times for your liking, your friend seemed to repeat it daily to you. Personally, you did not agree with that statement, they were completely different feelings. You believed it was like saying there was a fine line between yellow and purple which is far from true.

As you watched him stalk toward you, your previous accusations were confirmed.

“Oh look if it isn’t broken hearted Y/L/N” He sneered when he reached the tree you were sitting in.

“Malfoy” You scoffed back dropping to the ground. You landed in a crouch stood up and straightened your robes. “Here to insult me or hex me?”

Despite both being Slytherins and born from respectable pureblood families your hatred was strong for each other, ever since you fought over a cabin on the Hogwarts Express first year.

“I just wanted to know why you weren’t sitting with your boy toy recently.” He challenged. Usually, Malfoy was bad but ever since you had started to date Jacob he had become intolerable.

“None of your business.” You started promptly.

“He broke up with you didn't he.” he mocked, laughing “What he couldn’t handle looking at you all day.” He’s gargoyles behind him laughed.

“I would kick you in the teeth, but what's the point in improving your looks.” You retorted, swallowing the pain of the fresh wound he had just poured salt into. He scoffed his permanent smirk disappearing for a split second before returning. “Did you have a reason for this charming visit.” You asked sarcastically.

“Not entirely. Just to see how the break up went.” He mused picking at his perfect fingernails.

“Well then, if I through a stick will you leave?” This one got to him, and his cocky demeanor dropped.

“Did you just call me a dog Y/L/N?” He questioned dropping his hands and clenching them in fists.

“In fact I did.” You said turning curtly your hair whipping his face, gathered your books and turned to leave. You simply wanted to be in bed.

When you returned to your room you found your best friend Celo sitting on her bed a book held in her hands about two inches from her face. You let out a giggle at her position and confused expression.

“What?” she asked

“I just want to know why you are trying to enter that book like its a portal.”

“It's an exciting book.” She shrugged.

You laughed again, “You coming down for breakfast?” you grumbled scuffing your shoes on the ground.

“Yeah give me a sec,” she glanced at your sad demeanor, “You don’t seem like to want to."

“Not only do I have to deal with Jacob but Malfoy is being a dick again. Godric, I hate him” You sighed.

“You know there's a fine line between lo-”

“If you finish that sentence I will hex you.” You interrupted.

Celo rolled her eyes. Unlike you, she wasn’t blind to Dracos pathetic attempts (if you call insulting you attempts) to flirt with you. He was terrible at it, but Celo was convinced to get you to notice. She always pointed it out when she caught him staring at you, she tried to tell you that you were the only one who could get to the Slytherin boy with your insults, but it was no luck you were blinded by your hatred.

You began to gather your stuff your mood getting momentarily better until you saw Jacobs sweater lying in the ground and sighed. It had been a week and you still didn't have the heart to touch the damned thing.

“You know I could move it if you wanted.” Celo pointed out.

“Nah,” You sighed. You almost left it where it lay but you couldn’t, you just couldn’t. “I will.” with that, you summoned all the courage you had and snatched his sweater off the ground. With this sudden rush of adrenaline, you decided you would return it to him. Right now.

“You know what, I’m going to give it to him.” You stated.

“I don’t know if that's the-”

“I don't care he treated me like shit and I will not keep his sweatshirt because I am scared of a measly Ravenclaw.” You yelled.

“Alright” Celo sighed knowing that once you decided to do something, there was no stopping you, you were definitely put in the right house.

You walked into the great hall loudly, stomping your feet. You always had a loud way about you, when you walked into a room everyone knew it. You weren’t afraid of Jacob or his smug Ravenclaw pose either. Heads turned as you walked straight up to Jacob and his smirking friends.

“Y/N, I thought I made it clear we were over.” He scoffed.

“I was simply returning your sweatshirt.” You growled.

“You can keep it. Give it to the next guy you sleep with.” He mused playing with his fork.

“You Jacob Tahlin, are the reason God invented the middle finger,” You sneered as you threw the sweatshirt at him.

“Don’t worry you will have your finger shoved down some other dudes throat in no time.”

Your eyes went wide. Mouth dropped open. Anger ran through you like boiling water. Then you took a step closer and slapped him. Hard. Backhanded. So hard your ring had pierced his skin.

“You bitch!” he shouted his hand pulling away from his cheek with blood on his finger tips. He then began to get up and face you, but before he could even set down his fork he had a wand to his throat.

“You take one more step and I will not hesitate to kill you.” seethed a familiar voice through clenched teeth.

You watched as the platinum-haired boy pushed Jacob backward so his legs were against the bench he had been sitting on. The smirks were wiped off his friend's faces.

“W-woah there Malfoy, d-don’t get your p-panties in a knot.” Jacob stuttered clearly nervous.   As he put his hands as a sign of surrender. Every eye in the hall was on the scene playing out in front of you.

“You listen to me Tahlin.” Draco spits his mouth filled with venom, “If you even look at her the wrong way one more time, I. Will. Kill. You.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Jacob asked suddenly regaining his snarky attitude.

“Who am I? I’m the guy who can turn your life into a living hell with the snap of his fingers.” Draco continued still learning and closer and closer to Jacob.

As you observed you saw Jacob slowly move his had towards his robe pocket. Your body filled with fear and anger once again. You snatched your own wand from your robe, “Stupify!” tumbled from your lips.

Jacob shot straight backward knocking over the bench and flying over the table. Every single eye in that room was on you but the only ones you could focus on were a pair of bright silver ones which stared at you wide with surprise.

“Miss Y/L/N!” you heard McGonagall shout but you couldn’t take your eyes off of the Slytherin in front of you. “You are coming to my office right now!” she gasped. “Someone please help that boy.” She yelled as she dragged you out of the hall.

After a long hour lecture about fighting in school, losing your house 35 points and gaining a month of detention you were finally let go thanks to Snape demanding he needed you to come to a class which you didn't have for another hour. He, of course, let you go the second you left the classroom.

As you sat in the library you couldn't help but think of Draco. Ever since this morning, you wondered why. Why would Draco step in front of you? Why not laugh and watch as he did with everyone else? Why help you? Your thoughts were cut off by the very boy on your mind.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see Draco standing in front of you.

“Hey Draco,” you mumbled as you lay your head on your crossed arm in front of you. He sat in the chair next to you taking the same position you were in and faced you. For a minute or two, you just sat there in awkward silence staring at each other, where all you could think about is how his eyes shone, and his hair looked so smooth and how amazing it would be to kiss that precise jawline to his soft pink lips.

"So umm..." Draco muttered.

“Why?” you spoke.

“What?” he said blinking twice as if he had just woken from a nap.

“Why did you do it?” you continued, searching his face which still looked confused. “Ya, know, step in front of me, stop Jacob. We aren’t friends, well to be completely honest I didn't think you liked me at all and I definitely didn't like you. So why?”

Draco turned his head so his chin was resting on his arms instead of his cheek and he was facing away from you. He stared straight ahead not daring to look at you because he knew if he did, everything he had managed to hide for five years would come tumbling out.

“Draco?” you asked. He sighed still not looking at you.

"Draco?" You asked again.

“Remember first year when you fought me  for that stupid train cabin?” He asked his eyes locked on a far away bookshelf.

“Of course.” You said “I also remember winning that fight” you chuckled.

“Yeah.” He said smiling but not his usual smirk a genuine smile showing his perfect pearly smile. “I think that's when it happened.”

“Yeah, I think that's why I started to dislike you too.”

    This time he laughed. He actually laughed. The sound was addictive, you wanted to hear it’s sweetness again. “I remember when I saw you, and Merlin where you small, smaller than me by far, and I thought to myself ‘This will be easy, this girl will leave the second she sees me.’ and boy was I wrong” he was still smiling as he talked. “I remember walking up to you and telling you and your friends to leave, and you said, ‘Make me.’ and when I told you to again, you said, ‘Right now I need something only you can provide.’ ‘and what's that’ I said. And you replied with ‘Your absence.’ I and I think that is the exact moment, I fell in love with you” He was now looking straight down at the table the color creeping up to his cheeks. You weren’t sure what to do with his sudden confession so you just sat there staring at him your mouth open slightly.

    “At first I convinced myself you were just a pretty and I was being ridiculous but then I started to notice things. Like how the only time you cried is when you were reading a sad book. Or the way your Y/H/C hair flows like a waterfall down your back. Or how when you know your brilliant insult got to me your eyes would shine. Or how you could always turn a bad situation into a good one. Or how you would never call anyone a mudblood. Even when that stupid prick of a boyfriend of yours was screaming at you this morning. You didn't even think of the word.”

He looked at you now waiting for your reaction. But you were too stunned to say anything you just stared. “When you started dating him I felt like my heart was ripped from my body. Every day I would see you sit with him. Laugh with him and I couldn’t function. I wouldn’t go to meals anymore. My grades drop and my happiness along with them. I’m sorry I was such a dick all these years. I just couldn't deal with the fact that I was in love with you.” He sighed, looking at you again your eyes were wide your mouth still slightly ajar.

“Clearly, I’m an idiot and you definitely don’t feel the same so I will be going now.” He said standing, “I am truly sorry for being so rude, you didn't deserve that.” And with that, he walked away. Leaving you confused and bewildered. You just sat there for a minute processing all the information that had just been given to you.

“Fuck it.” You muttered standing and running after him. “Draco!” you yelled sprinting down the hall. You tripped on your robes and stumbled to the ground causing a few bystanders to giggle. You flipped them of striped your robes and continued after him.  Just in your skirt and blouse, you ran. You managed to see him just before he turned a corner.

“Draco!” you yelled again picking up your pace as you turned the corner you ran as fast as you could to catch up with him. When you finally reached him he kept walking. “Draco.” He kept walking. “Draco!” Still walking “God dammit Draco look at me.” You said grabbing his shoulder. He turned and you saw the last thing you would never expect; his eyes were rimmed with red and puffy a tear still sliding down his pale cheek. “What? He mumbled looking at anything but you. “Here to rub it in my face Y/L/N?” He asked furiously wiping his tears.

“No, I’m here to do this.” You said and without thinking twice you grabbed his tie and pulled his lips onto yours.

It took less than a second for Draco to respond to you; his lips moving in sync with yours as he moved his hand to your hips, pulling you closer to him. He deepened the kiss sliding his tongue into your mouth as you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him as close to you as possible. Everything else seemed to disappear, it was just you and him. You felt your heartbeat quicken a spark ignite inside you and you know that he felt the same.

Finally you broke apart both of you gasping and out of breath.

“I love you” He whispered shyly looking down at you; his grey eyes piercing yours, his cheeks flush.

“I love you too.” You said as you began to lean in to kiss him again. You placed your lips on his but were interrupted.

There was a loud thump as Celos books hit the ground, “Holy shit” She said, “I knew it, I knew it, I fucking knew it!” She was jumping up and down. “I told you there was a fine line between love and hate.” She said excitedly. And for once you actually agreed as you pulled Draco in for another kiss.

[thecardsimagine]

Of shipwrecks and seafoam

Summary: Let me tell you a story about a pirate and a merman, finding a love that goes beyond insecurities and death. Let yourself be taken away onto a journey about doubt and secrets, understanding and a bond that even goes beyond the deep blue of the ocean.

Pairing: Merman!Julian Devorak x Pirate!Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death, Killing Genre: Romance, Drama, Alternate Universe

a/n: First chapter! I am already ahead of my posting lol, but it would not be fun without some wait! Please enjoy and leave me a comment of what you think ^-^

Chapter 1 - The Unknown

With a surprised scream, you scurried further back on the sandbank, immediately overcome with more pain from your side. Unwillingly, you let out another cry, the pain too much to bear as you felt the blood flow from your wound again. A bad thought overcame you as you silently wished you had not been washed up on this shore, but died instead in the water like your comrades.

The moment you let out your scream you heard a small blop, sounding like something went underwater, and when you finally got some control over your pain again, you looked up, only to see the eyes that had stared at you so intently before gone. Breathing heavily you looked around into the open waters in front of you, blue and calm, nothing of particular interest swimming in it. Almost like the storm and the war at sea had not taken place the night before. It was the way you liked it best and yet, it brought nothing but dread over you.

Maybe you were hallucinating after all, having hit the ground pretty hard when you fell. Your head too, indicated this, being way too heavy to be held up any longer after inspecting the area around you. So you gave it up, sinking the limb down into the rough sand again with a groan. Even though you tried to calm yourself with deep breaths, the happenings finally caught up with your emotions, your body burning as it curled up, tears shooting into your eyes.

For a few desperate minutes, the worst thoughts and the most dreadful memories came back to you. They reminded you of your dead comrades, your destroyed home. How you had thought you were going to die in the water when the mast fell on you. The feelings of knowing you were going to die now and the panic as you couldn't breathe underwater. It all came back to you, and it was terribly fresh in your mind still.

You had lost everything and were stranded somewhere, you didn't even know where it was. Was it an island? Was it the mainland? Would someone come to help you, or were you all alone? Some part of you hoped that if no one was there to help you, you really were there alone, your mind drifting back to the ominous eyes in the water. But even when you looked back once more, they were nowhere to be seen. You really were alone except for a few birds you could hear in the distance.

As the initial panic that had overcome you dispersed, the tears dried out, and you slowly and very carefully sat up. Though it took its time to find a comfortable way to sit in, you didn't grow impatient, suppressing the pain as best as you could with sheer willpower. This was not the end, you told yourself. You had been granted this second chance, and you needed to use it wisely. No matter what was in the water, it couldn't possibly hunt you on land and probably was a stupid fish anyway.

Getting up from the ground was a whole different story though.

You tried seesawing yourself up, which had been the absolute worst idea you could have had, giving you full five minutes of tortures pain. The location of the wound had been severely unlucky, seated right where your body was supposed to bend over. You had no other possibility but to lay back down again until the throbbing pain slowly faded out, enough at least for you to start a second time.

This time, you were much more thoughtful. Rolling onto your knees and hands you could feel the burning in the abrasions on your palms, but it wasn't as bad as the wound at the side of the torso. Reminding yourself to keep your body straight, you struggled to get up, though eventually, you came to a stand, a big achievement for you. It gave you back a bit of your confidence and will to live.

You could do it. There was nothing doing to stop you.

But in the soft sand, your ankle wobbled in your first step, immediately bringing you down to your knees again. You could feel the sting in your side from the shake running through you, but you bit your lip, holding back the tears. You did it once, you'd do it twice.

For a while, it was just you, your thoughts and your fight with the walking. Maybe you felt quite as unsteady because of all the pain in your whole body, perhaps you just had a severe case of sea legs. Whatever it was, it was a displeasure and probably the worst thing you ever went through. When you finally managed a few steps forward, for the first time, you felt the heat radiating from the sun. Pearls of sweat fell off your forehead, landing in the sand and vanishing in only seconds of the contact.

You felt very hot all of a sudden, it being a mixture of the actual sun rays on your skin, the light fever, and your body having to work hard to even get this far. Oh, how much you'd have loved to have a good swig of water right then and there, or some salty bitter which would have probably made you forget about your wound for a while. Your tongue felt dry coming out of your throat, and your eyes burned too, even though the tears had only recently dried out.

Looking around panting, you inspected the area. You were at a large sandbank that ended promptly in a patch of grass and forest. The beach was too big for you to see the sides of it, you did see the water at the end of both of them though. Admittedly, you did not have the courage to make yourself explore very far. There was no guarantee that you would even make it to one end of the beach, let alone, whatever was in or behind the forest area. But you weren't one to give up quite yet either.

With slow, heavy steps, you moved towards the thicket. None of the bushes were tough enough to make for a real hindrance on your path. However, you did try to keep them away from your wound - if possible - your skin too. The last thing you could need was a rash now.

What you were searching for? You didn't know.

Maybe you hoped you would find out where it was that you were stranded. In the best case, you'd find people - hopefully, humans - who'd help you and come to your aid. A hut would have been nice already too. Water, food, shelter, that much you knew you needed. But no matter how bravely you made your way through the greens and trees, there was nothing in sight that would have helped you.

You made a point of inspecting the trees, hoping to come across a coconut tree or maybe bananas, but you weren't as lucky with that search either. Tropical woods yeah, but nothing edible. You had yet to become shamelessly enough to eat the few worms that crossed your field of vision, but right now, the thought alone made you feel sick to the stomach. The last thing you needed was to have to double over and puke out the little bit of water you had left in your body.

The branches and leaves underneath your feet crackled when you stepped on them until suddenly, you felt some resistance. For a silent moment you hoped you hadn't just stepped on an animal, both dead or alive, and you felt immense relief when you just saw a sturdy branch that wouldn't give away under your weight. You picked it up, it made for a good walking stick. It allowed you to at least prop yourself against it and work as a third limb for you, and you felt satisfied with your find.

Soon enough, time had passed. What felt like three hours might have actually just been one, but you couldn't tell the time anymore, aside from the apparent change in daylight. Together with your stick, some rock, and leaves that you could carry, you walked back to where you had come from. You found backtracking to be comparatively easy, just orienting yourself on the bushes you had pushed aside and footprints, and latest back at the beach you could clearly see where you had been lying in the sand before.

Without much care, you dropped the things you had brought back into the sand near the shore. It had never been your task to care for fire, but if you couldn't find basic needs like water and food, you decided you weren't going to freeze to death when night came at least. Yet, you wanted to be careful, ready to extinguish the fire in case something went terribly wrong, so you stayed near the water. In secret, you hoped that the fire would keep possible animals away at night and lure the much-needed help of people closer. "If only you had a ship," you thought.

It needed you to get up once more to get some small branches for the fire, though you experienced it much easier, now that you had the walking stick at your side. With it, you felt capable of progressing and it gave you some much-needed hope. Even if you found the thought to be a little pathetic, it also made you feel less alone and less stranded. You would get through it - you just didn't know how yet.

The unthankful sun that had pestered you all day was slowly setting at the horizon while you tried to start up the fire. Having a lighter would have made this extremely easy, and you felt a little overwhelmed with the task of rubbing two sticks together until they started smoking. It took you so many exhausting and merciless tries, often ending in nothing but one of the sticks breaking, with you only having so many left to try. But you didn't give up. Filled with determination you hung on when finally - at the third to last of your good sticks - grey smoke started to rise.

Overcome with joy you wanted to blow on it to make it spark, but you held your own excitement back to not destroy it. That, and you also had to deal with the pain in your side when you leaned forward, though you tried to ignore it as best as possible. Not long from then and you had a glimmering fire, warming you from the outside now, more than your fever had from the inside. In fact, it only confirmed your thoughts that you would manage to survive. You were strong and as long as you weren't carrying around a massive infection, there was probably nothing holding you back.

That was, in fact, the first time you realized something. Even though you had more than felt the pain all the time, you had yet to actually inspect the wound. The shirt you had been wearing was ripped at your side, though it wasn't hanging off from your body. It was mostly intact if not for the slash-like rip. Even though it was bloodstained and muddy, probably also a little sandy on some patches, you were glad to have it on your body still. You would have been worse without it.

Carefully, you brought your arms up, pulling the shirt over your head with the uttermost carefulness. Just one harsh move and you'd have to rejoice when the pain would retake the upper hand. It did hurt to take it off, but not as much as you expected it to. "Oh god…" you whispered as you discarded the shirt to the site, seeing the wound for the first time. It was not pretty, and it certainly wasn't good.

You wished you could have seen more from the range of view you had, but you could only see the foremost parts. The wound must have been going way to your back from what you could feel, and when you tenderly brought your fingers up to it, they were instantly covered in blood again. It was still way too fresh to be anywhere near recovering. Though the sides were starting to dry up, creating scab which still hurt terribly when touched, at this pace, it would need months to heal up.

You weren't so curious as to explore how deep it was either, being pained enough by just the thought of touching it any further than the scab. Then again, you were afraid that there could still be some splints of wood or anything in it. The good part of your skin felt rough from what you had noticed, probably the sea salt that had manifested through your time in the water. Letting out a displeased sigh, you looked up at the ocean.

The sea was as calm as ever. And you were well aware. Even though you - a simple pirate - couldn't have known the exact reaction of the water on your wound, you did know that it hurt a shit ton to get salt water against open flesh though. And you knew that your grandma had always told you to do it anyway because it 'Closes you right up!' It still hurt though. But after all the pain you had experienced in the last few hours, you weren't sure if you could endure any more than that.

Yes, it would help you - maybe. It could make the wound close faster, avoid infections, at least you thought it could.

Would you risk it though?

There was one more thing. Even though you had pushed this thought aside for almost the whole day, it still had lingered in the back of your mind. What about the creature? You admitted to yourself that it might have been a hallucination or a trick of the sun in the water, but it seemed so… touchable, real even. What if it was still lurking? Maybe you were more prey than you thought you were.

Shaking your head, you dismissed the thoughts quickly. You had come far, you couldn't possibly let yourself stray from the right thing to do, just because of a fantasy. No, you couldn't afford that in your current situation. You really, really couldn't.

Reaching for your walking stick, you pushed yourself up again. There were a few feet between yourself and the ocean water, and you discarded of the pants you still had on your hips. You would wash the clothes at another time. Some time you didn't actually need dry clothes like the night that was coming fast.

'It's just a fish,' you thought. Nothing could harm you, you just needed to jump in, not lose consciousness as the salt would burn out your wound and get out again in one piece. You were a pirate, damnit! You had done much worse than face a tiny, pretty fish.

But with the first step you made into the water, it was clear you were not going anywhere. You jumped hard when you felt your foot covered in slime, and you struggled to even find your stand in the water. Something you had not seen in the waves, or maybe ignored until now was the vast load of seaweed that got swept up the shore. You were sure it was seaweed, you knew the consistency well enough to be able to feel it through the skin of your foot.

"Ew…" You made a gagging noise as you pulled your foot back, a few strings of the green, underwater plant hanging from it. You were a pirate! But that didn't mean you needed to like everything about the deep blue sea. "No way…" you muttered, kicking the seaweed off your foot and instantly regretting having used such hard movements. Admittedly, you knew you shouldn't have given up at a bit of plant, but it certainly had damped your mood.

Walking back to the fire you put on your shirt again, hearing a faint splash in the distance. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you immediately turned around, trying to see something in the dim light of the rising moon. Anything, you just wanted some confirmation. What if… Something had lurked back there, waiting for you to go into the water. A shudder went through you as you decided that maybe the seaweed had been your guardian angel trying to warn you. Now, you chose to not enter the water anytime soon, as long as you couldn't at least see where you were stepping and what was going on beneath you.

With the help of your stick, you slid to the ground, letting out a groan as your bottom hid the sand hard. Careful now, you laid back down. Tomorrow you'd set out the camp a little closer to the forest, that much you were sure of. But for tonight, you couldn't get up again anymore. Everything hurt like you had just been thrashed by someone. That thing you thought you kept noticing was just a fever dream, you tried to tell yourself, to calm the raging thoughts in your mind.

Tomorrow would be better, you decided. A fresh start, better objectives. You could do this, you'd survive. Lying still in the sand, you could feel your wound pulsating in the tact of your heartbeat. It hurt. It hurt terribly. But it would be okay, you knew you could make it. For a while, you tried to listen to the waves, see if there were any more irregularities, but there were none for you make out. It was warm next to the fire, that was good. Probably the only thing that could lull you into sleep like it did, and before long, your eyes closed and you fell into a restless slumber.

You woke up as the moon still shone brightly over the night sky. It couldn't have been many hours that had passed since you fell asleep, as the fire was still glimmering and crackling next to you. A rustling next to your body was what made you snap out of a bad dream you had, a dream about your sinking ship and dead co-pirates. You could feel your body burning up from the fever throughout the night too. Next to you, it sounded like a rough patch of wood rubbing over the just as rough sand. An unpleasant sound, as you found.

When you pinched your eyes together, you heard it louder, moving nervously even. It was accompanied by the waves, and you made out a small disturbance in their consistent clashing against the beach. Then a gurgle, then silence. You stared up at the night sky, stars twinkling peacefully above you. But there you were, scared shitless. What had you just experience? What kind of sound had this been? What was it that had been so close to you?

Your first thought went out to a dog or something similar. You couldn't possibly know what lurked in the forest behind you. But then, why had it gone to the water? Could it have been the creature? Sitting up without hesitation, your adrenaline kept the pain to a minimum. Your head moved from one side of the beach to the other, aimlessly scanning the ocean. Nothing, just water no matter where you looked.

Letting out a deep breath you robbed back over the sand, gaining some more distance. Your left hand touched the place where the creature must have been as the sand felt wet and pushed together there, sending shivers through you. Only then you noticed the cold feeling at your side. Your shirt was, and as you lifted it, seaweed fell out of it. You were disgusted by so many things at this moment. The underwater plant, the thought of something watching you sleep, maybe touching you. Otherwise, you could not explain how the seaweed had gotten on your wound.

Silently, you had to admit the seaweed felt good. Cooling and relaxing the painted flesh underneath, but to you, it was nothing more than dirty water plants, and you tore them off, throwing them back in the water. Your movements stopped as you heard a gurgle, paired with a high-pitched sigh and you looked around frantically. "I am going crazy…" you muttered to no one in particular. "Completely nuts."

There was nothing, it was all in your head. A fever dream, hallucination, whatever you wanted to call it, but it wasn't real. It couldn't be. It could have been you who had laid on the sand, it could have been you picking up seaweed in your sleeping state, seeking for something to cool your body with. But still, you crawled around the fire, to the backside of it, pushing all the sticks and leaves you had left into it, hoping it would keep whatever fantasy of yours away.

And it did. At least, it helped comfort you. The adrenaline disappeared, leaving behind complete exhaustion. And you curled up as good as you could, trying to dismiss any bad thought and irregular noises, before you finally caught back up with your sleep, falling back into the broken dream you had before.

[emybain]

Filigree Bracelet

“Can you write a story where Adrian figures out Nightmare’s identity because her sleeve gets torn or burned during a fight and he sees her bracelet?”

requested by @insomnianovanightmare

yall...can I just say that fight scenes go better in my head than when I type them out? fr..

also this has been a nightmare (no pun intended) for the past like 24 hours because it would never post. praying it posts this time, or I will just cry!

    Adrian could feel the chill of the cathedral through his suit.

    Every one of his nerves told him that he shouldn’t be there, that it’s too dangerous, especially since the arrest of Ace Anarchy not a month ago. But Nova…

    Nova was gone.

    She had stopped showing up at headquarters over a week ago. Concerned, the Renegades sent people to check out her house, only to come back shaking their heads. Nothing. Nothing except her wristband, which had been found sitting on a naked mattress in what they believed to be her bedroom. Adrian, in denial, went with Oscar and Ruby to check out the scene for themselves. The house had had police tape across the front door, but he hadn’t cared. An investigation had been opened up to find the missing Renegade, but there hadn’t been anyone there when they went. The house had been completely emptied except for a few picture frames of what he assumed were of Nova’s relatives. Completely emptied, as if she and her uncle had decided to just up and move without telling anyone. Or they had been robbed, and something had happened to them.

They had searched the rowhouse, looking for any clues that could help them find their partner. They had gone up the stairs to the second floor, finding two bedrooms and a small bathroom. Adrian had gulped when he opened the door to what was marked, probably by an investigator, as Nova’s room. Inside, there had been two bare mattresses sitting on the floor. Across from them, an old vanity, which struck Adrian as odd. Nova wasn’t the type for that kind of furniture. She was much more simplistic. Perhaps it had been a gift from her uncle. Whatever the case, they had left disheartened. They had found nothing.

But Adrian had a hunch.

He believed that the Anarchists had taken Nova for killing one of their own.

And he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

The universe had already put him through so much.

First his mom, then the attack on his dad, then Max, then Danna...he refused to let his girlfriend go on top of everything else.

Voices caught Adrian’s attention. He stiffened, then crouched down behind some debris. A piece of what seemed to once belong to the ceiling of the cathedral.

“...in two days. We don’t have much time.” Adrian held back a gasp. Peeking around the corner, he saw the black uniform of none other than Nightmare, her back turned to him. In front of her stood Phobia, his hood hiding any facial features, if he had any.

“It’s not enough,” he hissed, voice echoing across the cathedral. “It is foolish to even consider.”

“Do you have a better plan? Or are you too busy brooding around here?” Nightmare crossed her arms. Adrian took note of her rigid posture. Clearly, even the Anarchists were wary of Phobia.

“Do not let your inner conflict out on me, little Nightmare.” The room grew cold all of a sudden. Was it just him or did Phobia grow another foot? “You cannot hide your constant battle with yourself. It grows every day. The Detonator was right in believing you would betray us.”

To Adrian’s shock, Nightmare shrank back. When she spoke, her voice was shaky, yet icy. “They’ve taken everything from me. I will kill every last one of them if it means Ace is rescued and we win.”

An airy laugh, if it could even be called that, broke out. “I have seen this fear in you many times over, and before you, countless.” He began to circle her, gliding across the tile. “Abandonment. Loneliness. Not being accepted for who you truly are-”

“Shut up!” Nightmare drew a knife from her belt. “You know, Phobia, I don’t know why I came here in the first place. I thought maybe you would care enough, but clearly you’re still playing the same games.”

Phobia hissed. “It is not I playing the same games, you petulant child. It is you, unable to fuel your anger to revenge instead of fear.”

“I will kill them,” Nightmare repeated, voice shaking. “I will avenge my uncle.”  

Cold air blasted through the cathedral, “Of course, child. If that’s the case, then why don’t you start now? I bet your little Renegade friend hiding would enjoy your anger.” Phobia vanished into the air, leaving Nightmare to whip her head around, eyes wide. The grip on her knife visibly tightened.

“Who’s out there?” she called out, turning in circles.  

Adrian contemplated leaving, blasting a hole through an outer wall and making a run for it. But he was here for Nova, for answers. He had to find out what they did with her. So, Adrian stood from his hiding spot, slowly, as if he were in no hurry. He stepped out into the light. Nightmare narrowed her gaze.

“Of course,” she growled, before pouncing on him.

He stumbled back, momentarily stunned by the force of her attack. But with a raise of his arm, he sent her flying back with a scream, hitting a wall and slumping to the ground. He made his way to her slowly, as if she were a feral animal. She remained where she was, laying with her head down and back against the wall.

“What do you know about Nova McLain?” Adrian raised his arm again as a precaution. Nightmare tensed, then peered up at him.

She blinked slowly. “What?”

Adrian rolled his eyes. He took a step closer, blocking her only escape. She pressed back against the wall, much to Adrian’s confusion. Since when had Nightmare become so...weak?

“Nova McLain. Renegade.” He swallowed. “Maybe you’ve heard of her, seeing as you keep messing up my life.”

Nightmare shook her head, confused. She must’ve been concussed, or something, from her hit. Great. Adrian sighed and lowered his arm. She was no use to him here; if he was going to get answers, he needed to take her to headquarters. Maybe then she would talk.

“Get up,” he ordered. “You’re coming with me.”

Nightmare started to stand, but fell back with a loud ‘oomph’. Pathetic. She made quite the Anarchist. Against his better judgement, Adrian took another step towards her and held out a hand. She looked at it, dazed, then raised her own to accept it.

Next thing Adrian knew, he was on his back, the wind being knocked out of him. He had gone numb from the waist down. His arms were pinned down by his sides. Nightmare hovered over him, her eyes glaring down at him from under her hood. Despite her surprisingly small frame, she was able to hold him down. It wasn’t hard, when he considered it, seeing as he only had control of his upper body.

“Don’t worry, the effects of the poison will wear off in about...twenty minutes. Enough time for me to figure out who you are. Now tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?” All traces of her assumed concussion were gone, replaced with hard, determined eyes.

“The infamous Nightmare shows mercy? That’s not what I heard two minutes ago,” he mocked. She had hold of his arms with her knees, and she put more pressure on them. Only then did Adrian notice how close her knife was.  

“I’m not all bad, if only I was given a chance,” she retorted, batting her eyes innocently. “Is it true, Sentinel, that this helmet of yours comes off?” Her free hand began roaming around his head, searching. He struggled, but she pressed the knife against his chest plate. “All I need is one puncture, one touch. Don’t even try it.” Adrian ignored her.

The back of his helmet clicked, and her eyes gleamed with pride. With one toss, the helmet was sent somewhere across the room, clanking against the cracked tile floors.

Adrian expected laughter. Adrian expected a knife to the throat.

Adrian didn’t expect Nightmare to gawk at him.

He felt the numbness in his legs wearing out. She had said that it would take longer; perhaps it was the suit; perhaps it was a bad poison. Nevertheless, her reaction allowed him to build up heat in his hand, shooting flames onto her thigh. She cried out in pain, her grip on him loosening, enabling him to push her off of him and flip their positions.

They struggled, rolling around. Adrian threw punches at her face, but she reflected them. Only when he had her pinned down did he realize that she wasn’t fighting back like before; she was defending herself. There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill. Adrian couldn’t decipher what they were from.

A glint beside him caught his attention. A portion of her jacket was burned, exposing red, angry, blistering skin beneath the remains of her sleeve. Apparently, her arm had been caught in his previous blow. But it wasn’t the jacket that caught his attention. No.

It was the filigree bracelet dangling from her wrist, with a star in its center and a clasp made by Adrian.

“Where did you get that?” He turned his attention back to her, dug his elbow into her neck. She gasped for air.

“Where do you think?” Her surprise from before had disappeared, and her hardness had returned. “You were right about one thing, Adrian Everhart. I do know where Nova McLain is.”

“Tell me.” He gritted his teeth. “Or I will kill you. For everything you’ve done.”

She squirmed underneath him, but it was useless. Finally, she spat out the response that Adrian dreaded. That turned his blood cold.

“She’s dead. I’m sorry, Adrian.” Then, her hand was on his cheek, achingly familiar and gentle and calloused. His eyes widened in disbelief, but then closed as the world around him went black.

[crabstreet]

I’d kept hermit crabs for roughly a year and a half prior to discovering the CSJ site, and – like many others – assumed I’d been properly caring for them, negating the need to further research their requirements…or anything about them, really. One doesn’t exactly discover troves of books dedicated to hermit crabs the way one discovers the same in regards to dogs, cats, birds, or any of the other, more typical household pets. Subsequently, one simply decides that not much must be known about them (or that what is known is too boring and/or limited to bear repeating in guide after guide), and so one makes do with the information provided by pet store employees. While I don’t recall the exact thing that led to my first Google search about them, I do recall that it was diet-related, as I became interested in offering foods other than the pre-packaged pet store fare. During the course of this search, I came upon the CSJ site and decided to poke around. I was quickly struck not only by the quantity of information present, but also its quality. In addition to locating more than I ever bargained for, or could have imagined I’d find, regarding food options – and nutritional needs in general – I found information on so many other factors involved in the crabs’ care: Substrate. Tank size. Heating options. Molting. Illness. And……..science. A college professor by trade, I’m not one to be convinced of something, especially animal-care-related somethings, unless there is appropriate back-up research involved. I found such evidence throughout the CSJ site (man, those hermit crab books and pet store employees were way off…), and it convinced me that the folks in charge here must be awfully invested in correct hermit crab care. Why else would the site be so thorough? Contain information proven through included research? Contain an option for receiving assistance in the event of an emergency? Contain a marketplace, where select food items could be purchased for unbeatable prices? I was sold. And encouraged. I did a bit of additional, outside research, found information from trustworthy sources that corroborated CSJ’s, and set about making changes to my own crabs’ set-up. CSJ opened the door not only to new knowledge, but to the fact that such knowledge actually exists and is freely available. It also opened the door to a desire to learn more, and to maybe even mingle online with others like myself: crab owners dedicated to giving their crustaceous kiddos the best life possible.

Fast-forward to a year-plus later, and I’ve continued to make regular use of the CSJ site. I’ve also, as a result of joining its affiliated (LHCOS) group on Facebook, discovered not just folks I enjoy interacting with in a general sense; I’ve found new friends…a new tribe, if you will…some of whom I had the pleasure of meeting in-person at the first-ever CrabCon in July of 2019, an event that allowed this truly-introverted gal to come out of her shell (come on; you knew such a reference was imminent). It was a surreal experience that continues to sit strongly in my memory, and it offered additional options for camaraderie and a sense of community/belonging. But, I digress.

On September 22nd, 2019, I awoke to find one of my small crabs on top of the substrate, shell-less and missing all limbs with the exception of two walking legs, one of which was injured. He was a pathetic sight at best, and though I did not have high hopes for his survival (he had, I assume, been assaulted under the substrate while molting), I plopped him into an iso container with a few shells of appropriate size, as his was nowhere to be found. It took him a couple hours to choose one, and when he did, he picked a green turbo that was clearly too small. This concerned me, but I was more relieved that he was at least strong enough, and possessed enough of a will to survive, to put on some pants. I posted a photo of him in his sad state to my personal Facebook page, and – not surprisingly – my CSJ friends were quick to weigh in with support and suggestions. When it became readily-apparent after a day or two that the crab truly wanted to live (he was moving, eating, and drinking, although the latter two activities involved my being hands-on with him, as he was missing both claws), I began regularly communicating with various CSJ administrators and moderators. I’d never been in this situation with a crab before, and obviously I was interested in ensuring this one’s survival. I knew the basics for caring for an incapacitated, limbless crab – thanks to the CSJ site – but I desired more specific assistance, and the aforementioned admins and mods were not only quick to advise, but pleasant, genuinely-helpful, and personally-interested, and invested, in this little crab’s well-being. The ever-lovely and thoughtful Mary Akers even mailed a care package that included nutrient-dense food appropriate for a clawless, recuperating crab. This is the level of commitment these people demonstrate…not just for the crabs themselves (in a collective sense), but also for each other and for those of us in the LHCOS group who demonstrate a willingness to learn and to do right by our hermits and by each other, as friends. I was – and continue to be – blown away by the support, and kindnesses, shown.

As a result of these wonderful folks’ efforts, which guided my own, my incapacitated crab, who has since come to be named William Robert (‘William’ because of his will to live, and ‘Robert’ thanks to a former student-turned-friend who regularly checked in by asking how ‘Bob the Crab’ was doing), successfully molted into wholeness in the overnight hours of October 12th, 2019. Two days later – and only 20 days after I found him lying helpless, naked, and nearly limbless in his tank – he continues to harden. I imagine it’s only a matter of time before I discover him picking away at the remains of his ordeal, in the form of his old exoskeleton, with the brand-new claws that he regrew under the watchful eyes of his many CSJ/LHCOS friends and advocates. Much love, and many thanks, to you all.

Sherri Werdebaugh

(Scroll for a series of photos, from the day I found him to the day he molted. )

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William Robert out of his shell and missing all but two legs

William Robert, the hermit crab, clings to Sherri’s finger with his two remaining legs for a hand fed meal

William Robert eating well right from Sherri’s hand

William Robert looking good

William Robert has begun to grow all new limbs

William Robert has begun to grow all new limbs

William Robert’s new limbs are turning orange, signalling he is ready for his recovery molt.

William Robert has molted again and his new limbs are intact but a bit smaller than they should be. One more molt will bring them to full size.

      Sherri W. I’d kept hermit crabs for roughly a year and a half prior to discovering the CSJ site, and – like many others – assumed I’d been properly caring for them, negating the need to further research their requirements…or anything about them, really.

[spell-cleaver]

If you're not overwhelmed, I'd also really love to see 70. Locked in a room and 71. Twenty-four hours to live for our poor Luke :P

Prompts from this post.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Luke struggledoff the bed in the centre of the room and paced the carpet, ignoring thepounding in his head. Five paces to the wall with the window in it; eight pacesto the door; three paces back to the end of the bed. Start again: five paces tothe wall with the window in it…

While he was at the window, he peered throughit and down. The castle gardens loomed just beyond the transparisteel, swarmedwith stormtroopers in an almost mocking parody of what they had looked likewhen he’d arrived.

Then, it had seemed almost like a safe havenfor him. An old castle surrounded by walled gardens and orchards, run by theson of an old friend of Master Obi-Wan’s? For a padawan who’d been living roughon the planet for weeks now, desperatelytrying to find his way back to the Rebellion, it was a dream come true. It wasperfect.

Too perfect.

He’d never been entirely relaxed—he was, after all, a Jedi in a galaxy ruled by theSith, and also extremely ill… butthe fact that he was ill hindered hisability to see what was going on right in front of him.

Because while the previous magnate who’downed the castle had been very fond of Obi-Wan and wouldn’t have hesitated tohelp his padawan, the man’s son was… less inclined to do so.

One thing he was inclined to do was report to Lord Vader that he had theinfamous Luke Skywalker in his custody.

It had taken less than a minute for the commofficers on Vader’s bridge to field the message to him, and Luke had beengreeted to the horrifying sight of Vader’s head and shoulders materialising inthe air before him. After that, it had taken less than ten seconds of intensescrutiny on the Dark Lord’s part before he said in a tone so smug Luke had the extremely un-Jedi-likeurge to punch him, “Skywalker.”

“Vader,” he spat back, ignoring theway it rang in his ears. The ground swayed under him.

Vader’s tone shifted from smugness to something more akin to satisfaction. “Still full of angerand hatred, I see. Good.”

“I am a Jedi—”

“Good work catching him, magnate,”Vader said. Luke had the funny feeling it was just to get him to stop talking.He would be almost amused at the disgust with which he said magnate, did he not have the fury of athousand suns trapped in his chest. “I am departing immediately to collecthim; I shall arrive in twenty four hours. I presumeyou will still be holding him by then?” His voice darkened with thethreat.

The magnate—Durron, his name was—swallowed. “Ofcourse, my lord. We are quite capable of holding one insurgent—”

“He is a Jedi. He must not be underestimated.”

Luke wasn’t sure whether to be more flatteredor annoyed. Flattered, because Vader had always treated him like a patheticopponent when they’d met face-to-face; annoyed because this was only going tomake things harder on him.

Annoyed, the voice in his head said. It sounded alot like Leia. You should be annoyed.

Luke followed the voice’s advice and gloweredat Vader.

Vader barely glanced at him.

“My father had some dealings with Jediduring the Clone Wars,” Durron said, babbling in his urge to please Vader.Luke was faintly disgusted by it. “I believe we may have some resourcesleft over—do you think binders that prevent him from feeling the Force would besuitable, my lord?”

Luke’s stomach plummeted. No—

“They will be adequate,” Vader saidcurtly. “Just ensure he is still there, and still alive, when I arrive.”

Soyou can kill me yourself?Luke had wanted to scream. He’d tried to run through the breathing exercisesObi-Wan had ever taught him, but the anger wasn’t dispelling fast enough; itbuild even as he released it, building and building to a crescendo—

Now he was here.

Luke had tugged at the binders on his wristsso often they chafed. His skin was getting rubbed raw, bleeding in some places,but the pain was nothing to him right now. He hated not being able to feel the Force. It was like losing one ofhis senses, like losing a limb—and, thanks to Vader, he thought sourly, heknew enough about that.

At least his synthskin didn’t bleed the wayhis organic skin did. That was one relief.

It was the only one.

Luke didn’t have the Force. He was locked ina room, kept in by multiple guards—he didn’t know how many, because he didn’t have the Force—outside the door and the window. He had twenty four hoursto live before Vader got here and probably struck him down on the spot. And. ..

He coughed. Blood splattered the hand he’draised to his mouth; he gagged a little.

…then there was the reason he’d beendesperate enough to come here at all.

Luke had been trapped on this planet for weeks. Months, perhaps. He’d survivedthat long, subsiding off charity and minor theft and scavenging for as long aspossible, all in the hopes that Leia would notice he was missing and send asearch party. None had come.

Then he’d become ill.

It drifted in and out. Sometimes his legswould tremble underneath him as he wandered, but he’d be able to keepwandering; other times his mind would give out altogether and he’d find himselfwaking up hours later in a ditch on the side of the road, the sun low in thesky. The pain seemed to move around his body: in his back, he couldn’t walkproperly; in his legs, he collapsed; in his head, he couldn’t think; in hischest, he coughed.

A lot.

And there was blood.

He’d been desperate. When he’d heard the nameof an old acquaintance of Obi-Wan’s, it had taken him days to get to the castle.And by the time he’d laid eyes on that garden and the winding path up to thedoor, his head had hurt too much for him to particularly care whether he livedor died. He just wanted relief.

They’d given it to him. Durron had given himmedicine, enough to prevent him from fainting or vomiting, enough to keep himlucid, and then he’d commed Vader.

Now there was a hammer striking Luke’s headlike an anvil, with enough heat in his face for the accompanying forge.

Was he going to die?

Maybe.

He couldn’t muster any alarm for the idea. Atleast if he died in the next few hours, Vader wouldn’t have the satisfaction ofkilling him himself…

He made to fiddle with the binders again. Painsplintered through his wrists; ire rose in his chest. What was going on? Whywas this all happening to him? The Force was supposed to be with him, with hisfamily; why then was he sitting on abed in binders, the only surviving Skywalker, not sure if he was going to dieslowly and painfully of disease or by the hand of the man who’d killed MasterObi-Wan—

Angeris of the dark side.

He shook the memory off; it wasn’t what hewanted to hear right now. He stood up, intending on retracing the route to thedoor and back—

He fainted.

His dream was strange. He was in a dark,shadowy forest, the branches reaching for him like claws. One of them actually did reach him, curling round hisshoulder in a grip that felt more like a strong, gnarled hand than wood andbark.

Look.

Luke squinted, but all he could see was theshifting darkness.

A finger—or maybe just another shadow—curledaround his neck like a noose, cold to the touch.

He shivered.

Look.

Half-turning his head away from the sharp,sharp branches that seemed to near his face with every breath—some of them had thorns—he peered harder through thedark.

It seemed to clear, suddenly, and he saw it:a massive figure, shrouded in darkness itself. It towered over Luke, wearingshadows like Sith robes. The brightest thing about it were its burning yelloweyes.

It had no thorns dogging its every movement.Indeed, they seemed to grow aroundit, controlled by its every movement and will. Its eyes flickered, and some ofthem retreated from Luke as well—for a moment, at least.

Then they curled back around him. He gaspedas they pricked at his throat; he dared not breathe too deeply, lest they—

Laughter.

He heard nothing—there was no sound here;even the words were just imprints in his mind. But he felt the maliciousamusement and cold mirth behind it, felt the vibrations. The hand on hisshoulder tightened further, thorns drew blood across his Jedi robes, and hefought not to gasp.

He glanced up, staring above him, but therewas no hint of sky through the dense thicket.

More laughter.

Doyou search for the stars, Skywalker? Do you want to fly away?

He tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but forsome reason he couldn’t, his gaze fixated on the figure before him.

Thereare no stars down here.

As little as he wanted to look at thatdemonic figure, he forced himself not to look back at the speaker, either. Somehorrible, primal instinct within him just screamedthat it would be worse, it would be fear incarnate, he would go mad just bybeholding it—

Thereare no Skywalkers, either.

Luke made a face at that.

“No.”

He voice rang out in the deadly silence; thefigure turned, whole attention on Luke for the first time since this nightmarestarted.

“No. Iam a Skywalker, and I am clearly down here. Therefore—”

Youare no Skywalker.

“My father—”

AnakinSkywalker died before you were born. You were born to him, theclawed hand pointed one finger at the figure before them. You were born to darkness, and darkness is where you belong.

Ifelt you try to push away your anger, earlier. Use it. Use it, and thosebinders will be no match for you.

But Luke wasn’t listening anymore.

He was staring at the figure, trying torefuse the implications of what the voice just said. Now he was staring at itso intently, he saw one bright thing he hadn’t noticed before: a single whitebutterfly, fluttering just in the figure’s peripheral vision.

Thorns grew up to bat it away. It dodgedthem, and kept fluttering.

Luke narrowed his eyes.

Youcame from him. There is no denying your destiny—

“—I told you I wanted him alive.”

Everything was dark again. He couldn’t seeanything: no shadows, no figures, no butterflies, no thorns.

“—he—is—alive—khk—just—ill—unconscious—ack—”

Luke peeled his eyes open and yelped.

He was on the floor, in the lockedroom—except the door was open. A pair of large black boots and a cape dominatedmuch of the corridor beyond.

A body dropped into his line of vision.Durron’s face was bright red, bruises on his throat, but he seemed to still bebreathing.

“Skywalker.”

With a groan, Luke pushed himself upright andtried to look up at Vader. His vision blurred.

“Please say this is another weirdvision…”

Vader took a sharp step forward, seized hiscollar, and yanked him to his feet. “It is not. You will be coming withme; I am to present you to the Emperor, and you will meet your destiny—”

He said something else, but Luke buckled tohis knees, unconscious, again. Hewasn’t awake to see Vader curse as he tried to catch him, but he imagined itlater. It was to be his only source of humour.

When he woke up again, his illness had beentreated and cleared away. That was one relief.

It was the only one.

Because he woke up in the real-world replicaof the forest of his vision. He was in that dark, dark cell for hours,Palpatine wrapping a hand round his shoulder and hissing unwanted truths intohis ear as Vader watched, impassive.

Arguably, Luke lived for more than twentyfour hours in there. But not for much longer.

Because even after his body left the cell,Luke Skywalker wasn’t exactly living anymore.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 44

A return to business as usual was interrupted by Danse contacting me. I presumed at first he would have opinions regarding the recent attack on Jamaica Plain - Gunners, though they retreated and haven't been seen in the area since - but my friend surprised me. He wanted to remind me of my promise to Billy Peabody that he would meet other children.

Jamaica Plain would have been an ideal location, but with the recent attack, Danse suggested The Castle as an alternative. Ms. Shaw might not care for children running around her fort, but it would be a goodwill symbol and the children would be impressed. Most importantly, it's safe.

I agreed, and sent word to the Peabodys, MacCready, and every other family I've met who have a child. The invitation was extended to all the children of Diamond City as well, though I didn't expect much of a response. The Castle may be safe, but the journey through Boston is not, and so Valentine and I found ourselves escorting only our son and Nat Wright. Piper joined us, and Dogmeat of course.

MacCready and Duncan were there, and late in the day came Matt Peabody and Billy. Roger Warwick and his son Wally also made the trip north, which I was particularly glad to see since they live the closest to the Peabodys. Mr. Warwick was a bit… startled, to meet my partner. There was a clear moment of fear at seeing a second generation synth for the first time in a year, and he didn't bother to hide his confusion when Valentine spoke to him.

“Don't worry, friend, the Institute and I weren't on speaking terms even before they were blown up. I'm a prototype. I got out.”

Warwick processed this and shook Valentine's hand. “Then I'm pleased to meet you. Ah. Has Holmes told you -”

“About you?” Valentine grinned, “Secret's safe with me, don't worry. Did you meet Matt? You two are practically neighbors, or would be if there wasn't a factory full of super mutants in the way.”

That was something of an exaggeration, but Mr. Warwick and Mr. Peabody immediately set to discussing trade while I introduced MacCready to Ms. Shaw. He's made it perfectly clear that he's not a Minuteman, yet, he's only working for us. Shaw found that simultaneously annoying and amusing, but welcomed the help. Piper started interviewing the Minutemen stationed at the Castle about the success of the Minutemen and the history of the location. They humored her, though she did manage to strike up an in-depth conversation with one who once lived in Diamond City as a very young girl.

The children, for their part, hit it off instantly. Shaun showed no hesitation beyond a quick, “wow!” when introduced to Billy. Given that one of his fathers is mechanical, it's no surprise that physical appearance means little to him. Nat and Duncan followed their friend's lead, and Wally, not wanting to be left out, joined in the fun. They started with tag outside the door under the watchful eye of Dogmeat. The Minutemen on guard were there as well of course, but they had their duties to attend.

Some Minutemen thought this event was simply the General performing a public relations stunt; others thought it was good for kids to see what the Minutemen are like up close, in case they ever need them or want to join. A few Minutemen even started trying to come up with a way to safely transport more people here. Stealing a Brotherhood vertibird was floated as a possibility, but I silenced that with a glance. “Just a joke, General.”

I smiled, “How would you fly it if you did manage to steal one?”

They frowned, and went back to brainstorming.

The day went very well, a chill night wind sending the children inside. The children and their families shared space in the barracks overnight, and in the morning it was time for everyone to return home. Billy was effusive in his thanks, and told me to thank “Mr. Danse” as well. Mr. Peabody echoed the sentiment. I told them I would, and they headed south with the Warwicks.

MacCready and Duncan followed us west. When Piper found out MacCready is from the Capital Wasteland, her questions didn't stop until we parted ways. MacCready, clearly attempting to flirt, was more than happy to answer until it was time for he and Duncan to move further north.

After our safe return home, life finally returned to its usual routine - as much of a routine as a private detective in a post-apocalyptic wasteland can have. Much like before the war, there are always people who need help. Unfortunately, also as it was before the War, many of their problems are dull. Valentine would scold me for referring to them as such, but that is the best description. Now that I’ve grasped the finer points of life in this century, now that I can distinguish a scavver from a trader from a farmer by the patterns of mud on their knees, much of the mystery of the world is vanishing. It’s difficult to keep myself occupied.

And so it was that one afternoon Valentine came home from the office to find out why I hadn’t joined him there yet. He found me lying on the sofa with an arm draped across my face. He spoke to Codsworth in the hall, as if that would be far enough for me not to know what they were talking about, and strolled over to me.

“Any way I can help?” he asked.

“Murder someone and do a marvelous job hiding the evidence.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, “How about something less gruesome?”

“Burglary, blackmail, anything. As long as it’s stimulating.”

“Mhm. Here, move your legs… alright, I’ll move them for you.” My legs were suddenly pushed over the side as Valentine sat down, resulting in my body shaped like an ‘L’. “Now sit up.” I did not. He sighed, “Come on, Holmes, what’s wrong?”

“Depression triggered by the futility of a banal existence,” I answered flatly.

I heard the strike of a match as he lit a cigarette, “I sure hope existential ennui isn’t hereditary.” I scoffed at his attempt at humor before realizing he might have been in earnest. “Codsworth told me you haven’t eaten today. At all.”

“Food. What appeal could that possibly hold?”

“At the very least, it’ll help keep the folks who love you from worrying so much. You gonna be lying here like this when Shaun gets home from school?”

“Possibly.” I fully recognize I was being petulant now, but at the time I only knew I was bored.

Valentine smoked in silence for a few moments. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

The question was so outlandish I brought my arm down from my face, “What?”

He tried not to grin at his miniscule success at gaining my interest, “Rumor has it that the old Museum of Witchcraft up in Salem is haunted.”

I frowned, “Valentine, my feet remain firmly in the realm of reality, no matter my mental state. Ghosts need not apply.”

“They do when the alternative is this,” he gestured to my position. “I’m getting you out of the house, and away from any potential, uh, temptations.”

I was annoyed, “I haven’t taken anything.”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

He wasn’t accusing, there was no malice or judgement in his voice, just a simple fact and all the consequences it implied. I would have been remarkably irritated if he didn’t love me so much. “Salem is at least a two day walk,” was my rather pathetic attempt at argument.

He laughed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

The outside of the museum resembles a Gothic style church, as fitting a setting as any. The main door to the building was chained shut, so we searched for another way in. Near the cellar door on the side lay the body of a Gunner, torn apart. Quite literally.

“Goodness,” Valentine muttered as I inspected the remains. “What do you think got her?”

“This might shed some light on the matter,” I said as I held up a holotape. The Gunner had been recording when she was killed. I played it on my Pip-Boy, and listened to this Private Hart speak to her commanding officer about hauling luggage from Lynn Woods for a robot butler named Wellingham.

“Wellingham?!” Valentine was shocked. Wellingham, I recalled, is the name of the Mr. Handy that works at an Upper Stands taphouse in Diamond City. “What the hell sort of business does that bartending bot have with Gunners?”

The tape continued, revealing the Gunners were being pursued by… something. Whatever it was, it was enough to have the commander in a mild panic. Everyone hurried inside the museum… except Private Hart, who was caught before she even knew what she was supposed to be running from.

A cold wind rattled the dead leaves on the trees and ground. “We goin’ in?” Valentine asked.

“My dear Valentine, this excursion was your suggestion. We would be remiss to turn back without investigating the ‘haunting.’”

“Thought you’d say that,” my partner grumbled and readied his gun. Together we descended into the basement.

We found the body of the commanding officer dismembered and beheaded on the floor, two of his squad in similar state close by. Something very large moved across the floorboards above our head. “Well, I don't think it's a mole rat,” Valentine softly muttered.

“Indeed.” I started to move toward the stair up to the main floor, the light of my Pip-Boy casting them in eerie green. The body of a dead Gunner hung through a gap in the dilapidated boards overhead. We froze as something pulled it out of sight.

“My god,” Valentine's voice betrayed a trace of fear. I couldn't blame him as a chill went down my own spine.

We could have turned back, but now I was curious. We crept up the stairs and entered the museum. The main floor of the building had been demolished, with little to indicate that once it had held any sort of exhibits or historical value. A low growl came from the back of the room as we hurried across the front, a massive scaled shape roaming the debris, its horned head turning as if looking for something.

We ran through the next doorway. “Front door’s chained shut,” Valentine whispered, “and getting that rusted lock off’s gonna make a lot of racket… what on earth?”

We’d stumbled upon a Gunner corpse in the museum’s bathroom. Scattered among his remains were gigantic eggs, their shells cracked or crushed. The man’s log provided an explanation - the Gunners were hired by Wellingham to bring him a nest of deathclaw eggs. The senior officers knew the mission, but the men, this sergeant and the private dead outside, and likely every other corpse in the building, had no idea what they were carrying.

I spotted a single undamaged egg and carefully picked it up.

“Letting a deathclaw see you carrying her egg ain’t the best idea,” Valentine muttered as he kept watch out the door.

“I have no intention of letting her. The nest is somewhere near Lynn Woods. We’ll have to make quick work of that chain on the door, or sneak out past -”

“Partner, I gotta admit, exactly how we’re gonna find a deathclaw nest without getting ripped apart escapes me.”

He had a point. “Still, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that glorified liquor cabinet use this to feed his pampered customers.”

“Ah, spite. Few motivations are so great.”

“You think this is insane.”

“Nope. I always like the idea of returning stolen goods. Hey, now’s our chance. Let’s move.”

We managed to escape that place without drawing the deathclaw’s attention and headed for Lynn Woods. “You are certain you want to come with me to return this egg?”

“I'd rather it be me doing the returning, simply because I probably won't die if a deathclaw rips my arms off, but the idea's a good one. It's not easy to do the right thing for something that seems so evil, but everyone deserves their fair shot.”

His sincerity brought me up short. “Mr. Valentine, sometimes you are astounding,” I said with full affection.

He was amused, “Not bad yourself, Mr. Holmes.”

“I'm perfectly serious. The amount of compassion you maintain in the face of this world is nothing short of incredible.”

“Ain't always the case,” he cautioned, “and my patience for folks gets pretty short when they waste their chance to do good.”

“Be as humble as you like, I stand by my statement.”

He laughed, “God forbid I argue with your ridiculously high opinion of me.” His hand briefly brushed my lower back, “Come on, let's get that egg back to the nest.”

Having left the presumed mother of the eggs in Salem, it was something of a surprise when the other parent stepped out of the darkness as we crept toward the nest. We froze, the egg in my outstretched hands. It growled, but didn’t attack.

“Think it knows what we're trying to do?” Valentine whispered.

“I don't want to stay to find out,” I muttered, and gently put the egg in the pile of vegetation and dirt. The deathclaw took a single step forward as we slowly backed away, watching our retreat until we were willing to attempt turning tail and running as fast as we could away from that place.

“You know Holmes,” Valentine joked, “I think ‘no ghost stories’ might be a good company policy after all.”