#and their bodies should have been irreparably changed when they came back from the dead as a result

[greensaplinggrace]

alina should have worn aleksander’s bones

[ismellpestilence]

Part 5

He dreads the thought of losing those he cares about, especially Yoshiki. He's uncertain whether his thoughts are truly his own or remnants of the old Hikaru's consciousness lingering within him. What he fears most is that he may have irreparably driven Yoshiki away. However, when Yoshiki unexpectedly appears at Hikaru's doorstep on Monday, offering to take him to school, Hikaru is both astonished and elated. To his compounded delight: Yoshiki proposes to cut class and embark on a day of fun together. They visit the movies, savour popsicles, and spend time reading manga. For the first time since Hikaru's transformation, it feels like Yoshiki is making an earnest effort to bring happiness into Hikaru's life, reminiscent of the days of their youth, before Hikaru's apparent demise and the arrival of the new Hikaru. Yet, Yoshiki's intentions take a shocking and brutal turn as he plunges a knife into Hikaru's abdomen. His plan was to grant Hikaru one final day of joy before ending his existence, but Hikaru does not succumb. Hikaru’s physical form does not have the same limitations as a normal human. Overwhelmed by despair, Yoshiki realises that things can never return to the way they were. This new Hikaru will not release him from his grief. Consequently, he implores Hikaru to kill him. Instead, Hikaru chooses to demonstrate his trust for Yoshiki, by giving himself a mortal vulnerability. Reaching into himself, he pulls roughly half of his spirit from his body, and condenses it into a small stone for Yoshiki to keep. With Hikaru’s spirit now ‘small’ enough to be harmed by lethal force, he hopes Yoshiki can trust him. Deciding to move forward as friends, the boys stand before another hurdle: to truly trust each other, they need to know what the-thing-that-replaced-Hikaru was before it became Hikaru. The why and the how already known. Yoshiki takes the fragment of Hikaru’s spirit and decides to help him find out what he really is. During their investigation they discover their little village, called Mount Hope, was once a much larger domain, but near the end of the Edo period, split into the five smaller villages it exists as today. The split was caused by famine, economic strife, and a number of strange, unexplainable deaths. Locals attribute those deaths now to the Lord Brain Snatcher, a malevolent god within the mountainous forest that plagued the people of the domain. But it’s believed to have been trapped within the boundaries of the forest ever since the famine. Like the deaths might have actually been sacrifices in a protective ritual against it. And Hikaru’s family, for centuries, have been the protectors of the boundary. Going into the mountains to conduct a ritual that would keep solid the barrier between the realm of the Lord Brain Snatcher and the human world. But when Hikaru died performing it, and then came back, he brought something back with him. Is Hikaru the Lord Brain Snatcher? Or is he something else? This, as of now, is where the story has left off… We can see Hikaru as dead, possessed by an imposter. But shunning this new creature doesn’t change the fact that the original Hikaru is gone. Alternatively, we can observe this spirit’s intervention as a chance encounter to allow Hikaru to live on. I consider the latter more optimistic. Aren’t people always changing anyway? A person cannot walk through the same river twice — they are no longer the same person, nor is it the same river. What is this possession but another, albeit radical, form of change?  The alternative is that Hikaru stays dead. The lingering question hanging in the air is the mystery of intention. What is this story trying to say? Perhaps it’s as indicative of queer experiences as I’ve outlined — indeed it is focused on a queer character. But how does the author plan on moralising this? What should we DO about the monster? Is the monster even something to be feared? Or is this a looming cautionary tale about ‘mixing’ with the others? This is information we do not as of yet have. Mangakas are notorious for their anonymity — and for good reason.

This Just In

James Somerton's channel has been nuked. Every video has vanished. If anyone took the time to save any of the evidence, now is the time to share it.

[liquorisce]

his wicked heart - 1

a collab by me and heartvu

rating: E | pairing: eren x mikasa (aot) | read on ao3

summary: Many years ago, Mikasa Ackerman was saved by the demon, Eren Yeager. Since that night she's devoted herself to him, worshipping and praying to him as a god. So when a sacrifice was demanded, naturally she is the first to volunteer.

aka the demon eren x priestess mikasa au

inspired by this fanart by @annluvazzel and this by @/Darva7v7 on twitter.

She’s standing alone. Her pulse is a faint echo in the dark silence of the room. 

She can smell the incense wafting off of her body, smoky fragrances that the maidens said would prepare her for him, scents pressed into her her most private parts that she’d never paid much attention to. She’d asked them why . Why they perfumed her breasts with jasmine and rubbed tree oil onto her thighs. They merely smiled at her ignorance, changing the topic. 

They put her in clothing she’s never worn before, draped heavy and elegant white robes over her, leaving her naked from the waist down with an exquisite chemise covering her skin. They pinned her hair up away from her face, adorning her scalp with gold pins. They told her he’d like it. He likes his girls to have long hair he can touch. 

“How do you know all this?” She demanded of them. “You’ve never seen him. You’ve never even seen his sacrifices once they’re given to him.” She shivered as she said it, the dark reality of that thought something she hadn't willed herself to consider. 

I’ve seen him though , she tells herself. Eyes of a demon she’d never forget, deep green and vacuous horns sharp on his head. His teeth gleaming as he ripped into the throats of her attackers. The image she’s never forgotten. 

She’d been innocent back then. A little lamb. Soft as the flowers in spring. New and dewy and bright. … That’s how she was when the attackers came, that fateful night when he saved her. 

…

They came knocking on her door, which should have alerted her family that there was something amiss to begin with. There shouldn’t have been anyone for miles. 

She was sitting in her room with her mother when she heard it. 

A grunt. Then a thud. The shuffling of footsteps into their house. “Daddy?” She gasped, as fear shot through her. 

“Stay here. Don’t make a sound,” were her mother’s last words to her before exiting the room. A shriek followed this time, the sound of struggle, then the piercing blood rattling scream of death. That’s when they came for her, when her life changed irreparably. 

The door blew open - their dark faces with frightening expressions looming in front of her. The evil in their eyes, the knife in the man’s hand, dripping on the floor. 

She saw it from behind them- the colour of red pooling on the floor, her mother’s glassy eyes staring back from the middle of it. Her father, crumpled and lifeless on the ground. 

Suddenly, their hands were on her body, bruises fast blooming from where they were grabbing at her. The blade strung against her throat. She remembers her sobs, her struggling; useless tears streaming down her face. She remembers the hopelessness that coursed through her, the definite feeling of anticipating your life being snuffed out. 

Helpless, alone, afraid . Everyone she had ever known, gone in an instant, dead at the hands of these men. 

That’s when he came to her. Not a man, but a menace- a feeling, or a darkness perhaps. More of a shadow than a being. Though her memory is shrouded in terror–  the glimpses of his face, the sharp dagger of his fangs, the intensity and violence in his eyes- the images stayed etched in her mind. 

The way his voice came, rumbling from his chest, into her being, directed at her assailants.  

“ I could smell your sick, twisted thoughts for miles .” 

In retrospect, they felt him before they heard him. (So did she- a feeling that’s stayed in her heart, in her body for years. ) Perhaps it was because she was a child- just a tiny thing- so he appeared larger than life, terrifying to some… But one seldom remembers the terror of their own saviour. 

He loomed over them, tall and dark, their heads barely reaching his chest. That’s all it took for them to drop her weightless body onto the floor, turning to flee for their lives. Her limbs scraped the wood as she clambered into a corner, her breath heavy in her chest, too stunned to properly register the sight that came next. 

They hadn’t gotten far before he reached out his impossibly long arms and grabbed them by their throats, lifting their bodies high off the ground. The sounds of their struggles resounded in the room (and they stayed with her long after), choking under his grasp. 

“ You think of yourselves as predators, do you?” A curl of disgust played out on his lips as he watched them writhe unsympathetically. “... Nothing but animals. ” 

The crackle of their bones was sharp as he snapped their necks in a simple flexure of his wrist. He flung them over into a corner, and she flinched away at the smack of their bodies against the wall. If she felt the red, wet splatters on her skin, she doesn’t remember it. 

“Worthless.” 

He turned to her then, gazing down at her, the green of his eyes piercing into her. She felt a chill run through her body, tensing with fear. 

Then… nothing. 

The next thing she remembers is waking up at dawn on the foot of the shrine, shivering in her nightgown as the maidens ushered her in. 

She felt groggy, pain aching every inch of her bones, eyes disoriented as if they opened again after a lifetime of darkness. Her once warm life with her parents in the woods now nothing but a memory, stolen from her by those invaders, and this new one bestowed by him . He had saved her; a being of another world, terrifyingly beautiful, and made for destruction.

And ever since the morning she’d woken up at the door of the shrine, she’d bound herself to him. 

…

She watches herself in the mirrored walls now- a woman in the place of the girl who was shivering in the corner of that little cabin. Would he recognize her? Would he remember her that distraught, bruised face and see it in her? Had he recognized that it was her who left flowers at the foot of his shrine every morning, the one who whispered his name most reverently every night? 

Her hands clutch at her robes nervously because in all her enthusiasm she hadn’t stopped to consider what he would think. What did he expect from a sacrifice and what would be her fate? But she barely has time to process her thoughts as she feels a sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Her heart thrums in her chest. Just moments ago the maidens had shut the door behind her, leaving her in this too-dark room. But now it feels darker, the air harsher, a sense of gravity leaving from beneath her feet while a pressure weighs heavily on the rest of her body. 

That is how he finds her, over a decade after saving her from death as a little girl- He sees a young woman in an elaborate robe, incense clinging to her skin, hair pinned back, readied in every way to be his sacrifice. Except for the same haunting grey eyes that he remembers. 

“Demon,” she whispers, “my savior.” 

She keeps her head bowed, not daring to look directly at him. Even from this angle, she can see how enormous he is, nearly double her size, his body taut and rippling with muscle. Her head barely reaches the height of his hip, her body merely the size of one of his legs. 

“You. ” His voice is a thing of darkness and it fills the room, flows around her and makes her shiver. The memories from that night flood through her mind again. She can’t help but look up in the direction of his voice, and the first thing she’s met with is the glow of his eyes, narrowed at her. His jaw is sharp, as deadly as his claws, his expression intense and emotionless all at once. 

She can hardly breathe, adrenaline pumping through her veins now. This is what she begged for, she reminds herself. But that doesn’t stop the fear from overwhelming her senses, freezing and silencing her. 

The demon wraps a hand around her center, picking her up effortlessly from the ground as she gasps in his palm. She must be smaller than she was a moment ago, she thinks. Or maybe he’s grown bigger. She can’t tell. All she knows is that she is in an impossible situation with a being that is not made of the same flesh and blood that she is. 

His eyes scan her, observing her now. As innocent as the day he slaughtered the beasts that came to steal her, and yet… different somehow. Through the thin fabric of her robes, he can see the way her breasts have blossomed, the curve of her hips rounded out, the chub on her cheeks chiselled away to reveal her elegant cheekbones and pointed chin. 

Interesting how humans change with time, he thinks, so different from him as an immortal being. No longer the little lamb he freed that day, but a soft maiden with the face of an angel. A thing too perfect, too young to be a sacrifice. No elder would have freely allowed this, he thinks. 

He recognizes her from all her years of devotion to the shrine. All her whispered prayers to him in the night. The purity of her thoughts. The faithfulness to her religion. She’s innocent and virginal still, it’s in her face, the nervousness radiating off of her- it’s in the way she smells, untouched and pure. 

Well it doesn’t matter what an elder would allow or not; a sacrifice is a sacrifice, a token for consumption. But it’s her soul that stops him. He’s never gone hungry too long, the monsters roaming the earth in human form, reeking of ugliness always kept him full. But she’s nearly flawless, a sharp contrast from the stained souls that he usually devours. …Except, of course, for her beating heart, a squishy, revolting human thing. 

He trails a single claw along her unblemished face, cutting into the skin under her eye, blooming crimson across her porcelain skin. An almost insignificant flaw against her perfection, but it only makes her more appealing in a way. She gasps, shutting her eyes at how the wound stings. 

“Interesting choice for a sacrifice.” He ponders aloud. She meets his gaze again, her lower lip quivering. He looks at her expectantly, and there is so much she hoped to say. How long has she spent dreaming of this moment? Of seeing him again? 

But all she can do now is choke on her own breath, her words coming out in little squeaks and incoherent noises. Obviously trying, and failing, to communicate with him, too frightened to form words. She squeezes her eyes shut, but her body responds to his presence— it is a frightening thing, larger than him or the cold glint in his eyes… It is the energy he commands, his invulnerable aura. 

It amuses him, the way she reacts to him; so delightfully human… so afraid. He grabs at her more tightly, making her whimper and clamp her mouth shut. “Speak, human.” 

She’s breathing heavily, shaking, unsure if her voice still exists but too afraid to ignore his command. 

“D- did you hear my calls for you?” She asks, stuttering, thinking back to all the times throughout her life when she kneeled by the window toward the nothingness of the night, praying to him to come back to her. Never once had she gotten a response. Instead, she kept busy by reading through the scriptures of his origin and the accounts of his time on Earth. From what she’s learned, he feeds on the souls of only the darkest and most vile humans. But the viciousness and brutality through which he does so leaves terror trailing behind his scenes. 

“... I heard them.” He answers, without apology. 

“And you never came back for me.” She whispers, tears beading along the corners of her eyes. He dismisses her so casually, as if it all meant nothing to him. Even now as she stands before him, ready to give up everything to be near him, she means nothing. “ Why? ” She despairs.

“I do not answer the beck and call of your kind, human.” It irritates him that she even expected it. “ I am not your savior.”

“ B-but Demon,”- 

“Do you know what they call me?” He asks, a curious glimmer in his eyes.

Her teeth dig into her lower lip. “Y-you’re the mightiest, most indestructible,”- 

“... My name, ” he snaps, “Surely you would have learnt that through your years of devotion.” 

She racks her brain for it- he’s been called so many things, a beast, a monster, a titan, a vile creature. But none of them were true. “A-attack demon,” she hiccups, crushed by the callousness in his gaze and overwhelmed by the mix of reverence and fear. 

He hums, the slightest hint of approval in his tone. “ The demon of demons … A beast that devours flesh,”  he murmurs.

“No,” she cries, her impassioned voice finally rearing its head at his insulting insinuation. “A beast would never have saved me.” She looks at him with reverence. “You gave me my life that night. And now I am here to give it back to you.” To devote herself to him. To be back by his side. 

“You want to give yourself to me? ” His voice slithers over her like a sinful creature, a hint of mirth shaping the edges. She nods, innocently, trying to still her trembling. As amusing as her dedication is, her ignorance and naivete are beginning to annoy him. Irritation laces his fingertips as his grip turns crushing around her narrow waist. “...And do you know what that means?” 

The displeasure stings, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. She’d done everything right , devoted her life to prayer, to him, studied all the myths, begged to be his, even dressed up the way she was told would please him. Yet, he seemed sickened by the mere sight of her. An ache travels through her, a desperate need to please him, to repay him. 

“...That I will serve you. Only you. For the rest of my life.”

His mouth wraps in a smile again, a beautiful sardonic thing, mocking her. “Serve me?” 

He drops her to the floor, and she collapses onto the ground below him. She pushes herself up and watches as his body shrinks, just slightly, still impossibly large, but now into a form more of a titan than an otherworldly being. 

There’s a flash of movement, too quick for her to comprehend. She hears the rip of her garments, her robes disintegrating under his hands, the cold air slapping against her bare, exposed skin.

“You think you have what it takes to serve me?” 

She shudders, more at the detachment in his gaze than anything else. She’s on her hands before him now, naked, showing more to him than any other has ever seen of her. 

His eyes scan the length of her body, and his rough, clawed hand reaches out to curve around her left breast. His long nail scrapes her delicate skin as he squeezes her roughly. She lets out a whimper. “What if it’s your body that I want?” 

He pins her to the ground, and she winces as her naked chest slams painfully against the floor, her knees digging into the cold ground, his palms heavy around her hands as he holds her down. 

“What if I want what’s between your legs?” His voice is rich, deep, and it seeps into her bones and causes an unfamiliar heat within. “From the back like this?” He asks, and she can feel the pressure of him on her bottom, her skin hot and heavy, where she has never felt another. “Or on your knees?” 

His hand curves around her neck, pushing her deeper into the floor as he looms over her on all fours, like an animal, grip tight enough to make her gasp for her next breath. 

“What if I want to taste you?” His pointed tongue licks out at her cheek, flicking over the blood beading on her face from where he cut her earlier. Tears trail down the same path, mixing with the crimson. It tastes sweeter this way, he thinks, unbidden, as he hears her hiccup, delicate sniffles escaping her small body. 

Still, she nods for him. “I’m yours,” she responds, barely a sound.  

It’s obeisance he hasn’t seen before, a submission that isn’t borne from fear but something that smells far more alluring. It enrages himself as much as it tempts him. Lips brushing against her ear, he grumbles, “And what if I want to ruin you?” 

She shuts her eyes, shaking softly at the vehemence of his words. She’d lived a sheltered life, and these concepts are foreign to her. But when he says the words she can almost feel what he means, a desperate aching shame wash over her body. His voice is a deep, terrifying rumble, but it makes her hot, fills her with a new dimension of desire, something horrible and unholy. 

So in spite of her fear, in spite of her trepidation, she follows the dark longing inside of her, a darkness that has belonged to him since he saved her, 

“... I am yours, Demon. And I will do whatever you ask of me.”

[softboywriting]

Almost Lost You | Ex Machina | Nathan Bateman

Summary: It takes Nathan nearly dying to realize he loves you, but he needs to know you feel the same and will take some unnecessary steps to find out instead of just asking you. [TW: Blood] [Following the ending events of the film] [Light Angst] [Fluff] [New AI] [TW: Near Death Situation] [Swearing] [Sexual Innuendos] [F!ReaderxNathan] 

Word Count: 5.1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Fear. It's not something you would think was in Nathan's repertoire of emotions. In fact in the last year you've been living at the facility and testing his AI with him, you've never even caught a hint of it. But now, you can see he is no God. He is a man. He is a man and he bleeds like a man. The terror in his eyes as he looks to you desperately behind the glass door to his bedroom is not something you would soon forget. His white sweater is staining crimson, nearly black with the contrast of the bright hall lights.

Beyond the glass, mere feet from you is the remains of Kyoko, her face torn apart, system core damaged by a blow from a weight bar. You watched it all go down, stared in horror, screaming to warn him about Kyoko approaching with the knife. He couldn't hear you behind the soundproofed door. What would have happened if you had gone out there with him? Would Kyoko have attacked you too? What about Ava? He saved your life in retrospect. Perhaps you could have stopped them both. Perhaps you'd be dead. Perhaps now you wouldn't be watching your boss, your friend, the guy you've come to care far too much about, bleed to death.

Nathan raises his hand to you, and you lay yours on the glass. He mouths something that you can't quite make out. You'll never hear him behind this door and you've no idea how to override the system and take it out of lock down. He points and you look back at the computer on the desk behind you.

"Computer?" You mouth and he nods.

He makes a sign with his hand and you suddenly are grateful he was insistent that you learn to sign the alphabet when you took the job as his assistant. It was for just such an occasion. Should one of you get locked in a room, or to communicate with him on cams when you're around the AI without speaking. He holds up three fingers. That means three words. You turn and scramble to find a sticky note and a marker on his desk before returning to the window.

You bang on the glass and he lifts his head slowly. Your heart is pounding, he's fading fast. Losing him is not an option and at this point you'd rather be in his place.

Nathan carefully spells out the code to unlock the facility. B E A M.  M E. UP. He's such a Star Trek nerd. It figures that would be his override code.

You get up and pull up the system control program and type in his passcode. Sure enough the lights return to normal and the door latch clicks open. You race from the chair, shoving the door open and sinking down beside him. "You're a fucking nerd."

"Yeah thanks." He barely chuckles. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not." You tremble as you take his hand. It's cold, he's cold all over. Skin turning pale. "Nathan, listen to me you're not going to die like this."

"Honey, we're two hours from anyone else. I'm going to die. If you move me the bleeding will get worse. I can't walk, you can't carry me."

You cup his cheek. "I'll carry you. I-I'll pick you up and we can call emergency services. Hold on just a little longer."

Nathan lays his hand on your shoulder. "You were a good assistant. I know I was a pain in the ass and I told you that you sucked. But you didn't. You're very smart. You're the best I had."

"Shut up." You're crying. "Shut up and stop being nice to me!"

"You want me to be mean?"

"No, just shut up. I want you to stop acting like you're dying."

Nathan glaces down at his torso. "I got two holes in me. I don't know what's been punctured."

"Please." You stand and look down the hall. The landline phone is in his den. "Stay here."

"I'm not moving too fast honey."

"Obviously. I'm going to call for emergency services."

"Mmm. Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Move Kyoko and Ava before they get here. I don't need to deal with questions."

"W-what?"

"I haven't exactly gone public with the AI."

You stand and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Nathan, if I don't leave them out here the medical staff will think I stabbed you."

"And you think they will believe that a robot did it instead? No. We will say there was an intruder, they attacked me and you hid. Break the glass in the kitchen from outside and make a mess as a cover."

"Jesus fucking Christmas. Okay whatever, just shut up and stay alive okay?" He gives a weak thumbs up and you go to the den to call out for help. You're going to call emergency services and he's going to get life flighted out and he is going to live. He's going to survive if it's the last thing you do.

_____________________

Nearly a month later and Nathan finally gets to go home. You haven't been back since you left in the helicopter with him. It took three bags of blood to keep him alive long enough to get him into the hospital. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive at all and it was a miracle he made it over four hours with wounds like his. Nothing was damaged internally. That's the crazy part. Kyoko just missed his heart by a mere five millimetres. The other wound just grazed his stomach but didn't cause any irreparable damage.

You spent every day at the hospital with him. He tried to get you to go home, to leave him there but you couldn't do that, you love him too much. Without you he had no one. His parents passed years ago. No siblings. No grandparents. You're his family. It's sad.

"You know we have to go to physical therapy twice a week." You say as the helicopter flies toward the facility, trees zipping by beneath you. "That means long flights in and out."

"I know." He rests his head back on the seat. "My work is there though. I can't just relocate without it."

"I haven't been back since we left that night."

"I know."

You shift your feet against the duffel bag of stuff you've been living out of for thirty three days. "It's going to be a mess."

Nathan chuckles. "I'm going to have to get new carpet."

"Yeah."

"How good are you at home renovation?"

"Um...I painted a room once?"

He opens his eyes and looks at you. It's so nice to see that playful spark. The memory of his face, scared to death and bleeding out, it haunts your dreams. "I guess we'll learn to lay carpet together."

"You're not doing anything of the sort."

"I'll supervise."

"Nathan. Just hire someone."

"I'd have to kill them. I can't just let people in the facility."

"Nathan!"

He raises his eyebrows. "You think I'm joking?"

You shake your head. "I'll put in your stupid floor. No Hitman needed. You're ridiculous."

"Careful. I am careful."

"Oh? Careful enough to get yourself sta-"

"Hey!"

You narrow your eyes. "Speaking of which. Will you rebuild them?"

"No. I think I'll try for a male model."

"Why?"

"For you."

"For me? What the fuck do I want with a robot?"

"Companionship. Besides, I've only made females. It's time to change it up. If I'm to release them to the world someday surely people will want all options available."

"Why not make it non gendered. Just a body, no determinate features?"

"That's not fun. You'll like him. I've already picked out a name."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you have."

Nathan taps his head. "I've got all the plans laid out right here."

"Mmmhmm. Gonna make him fuckable too? Like you did the others?"

"Damn right." He licks his lip and grins at you. "I know you're curious."

You would never admit it but you are. You will definitely not be doing anything remotely sexual with the robot male. Absolutely off the table. If Nathan thinks you're gonna do anything he had best start finding a new assistant. You have put up with enough. ______________________

It takes Nathan no time to build this new AI. Everything is all at his disposal. He's made several. All it takes a few adjustments to the body forms, simple enough, some wiring changes and such. New downloads for his AI system to make them male presenting. It's all of a week of almost non stop work but by Tuesday you're being called to the lab to see his pride and joy.

You push in the door to the lab and enter the darkened entry way. It's almost midnight. You were nearly asleep when Nathan came on over the intercom system demanding you come to the lab. You wipe your eyes, sleep heavy in them. The bright blue lights blind you as you step into his work area.

"I'm here. Where are you?"

"In the back! I'm just making some adjustments!"

You wander past the tables strewn with parts and pieces and notes and diagrams. Mostly Greek to you. "I was almost asleep. This had better be g-"

Nathan steps aside and sitting on the table is another Nathan. No beard but a fine five o'clock shadow, short dark hair. If you didn't know better you'd think Nathan was pranking you with his own twin. But you do know that he is an only child. Which, how very much like Nathan to make the male in his own image. How self absorbed.

"Say hello." Nathan, the real Nathan, says as he gestures to the AI.

"Why does he look like you?"

"Who better to look like?"

You shake your head and walk up to the AI. You look closely, carefully. The hair looks real, the facial hair looks real. Like Kyoko he has skin head to toe. He's covered at the waist by a sheet and you presume Nathan is doing so as some sort of ego inflating reveal of what is probably an exact replica of his own dick. But that aside, the AI physically is flawless.

"Tell her your name." Nathan says.

"I'm Nate." The AI says with a soft smile. "Nice to meet you."

You look over at your boss. "You called him Nate? You couldn't even give him his own name?"

"He has his own name.  My name is Nathan. His is Nate."

"You're a jerk."

Nate extends his hand to you. "What is your name?"

"That's a secret." You smile slyly at Nathan and look back to Nate.

"A secret name? How intriguing. Nathan, do you know her name?"

Nathan chuckles. "Yes, but it seems she wants to keep it to herself now. Maybe you will have to earn it from her."

"Earn? Like a prize. Your name is a game?"

You giggle. "Sure. I'm going to go to bed now. I will probably see you two tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

"Super." You say sarcastically. This is going to be interesting. You've tested his AI many times, spending hours talking with Ava and Kyoko. They were essentially the same AI in the end. This one could be different. You look back as you stand in the doorway. Nate waves to you and you see Nathan turn to look at you, giving a thumbs up. Here you go. Getting in too deep. You should have taken that desk job at the Hilton hotel.

_____________________

"Where is Nate?"

"He is in the test room." Nathan brings his glass of orange juice to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug. "Just wondering."

"Curious?"

"I suppose." You sit back and push your mostly empty breakfast plate away. "It's just weird you introduced me and then just never said anything else again. It's been a week."

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "I've been fine tuning him. Making sure all the eggs are in the basket."

"Uh huh."

"You'll see him soon enough. I've got your first date set on the calendar."

"Date? You mean my first session."

Nathan smirks. "Sure."

"I'm not dating your robot. Get fucked Nathan."

"Oh I hope to."

"Too bad your fuck toys tried to kill you so you had to decommission them."

"You assume I wouldn't fuck Nate."

"You're disgusting."

"Everyone wants to know what they fuck like. Of course I'd fuck myself."

You roll your eyes. "How conceited. By the way, no, not everyone would fuck themselves. You're disgusting. And Nate is not you."

"Isn't he though?"

"No." You push away and stand beside the table, gathering your dishes. "He might have your face but he doesn't have this fucked up brain." You tap your glass to his head and he scowls.

Nathan stands and follows you into the kitchen. "You think he's going to be better than me?"

"No one said that. I just said he isn't you. I know damn well you can't download your consciousness into an AI. So Nate might be your twin but he isn't you."

He just hums. That's it.  No more or less. Just a little hmm. It pisses you off. For some reason you're defensive of Nate and you barely know him yet. He's a robot. He's not real. Not...alive.

_____________________

"Good morning."

You sit up and rub yours eyes, vision clearing to that of Nathan sitting on the end of your bed. No. It's Nate. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Nathan sent me. He said that I should wake you up."

You glare at the camera in the corner of the room. The one Nathan claims is for security purposes only. "This is my private space. You're not welcome."

Nate looks to where you are looking. "Technically the facility belongs to Nathan and this room is borrowed by yourself."

"It's still my space. Nathan! I know you're watching! This is not okay!"

Nate stands and moves across the room to stand in front of your closet.

You get off the bed and go to the door to go find Nathan. If he thinks letting Nate roam the facility unchecked is okay, he's gone mad. None of the AI have been allowed as such except for Kyoko. Obviously we see how that ended up. "Nathan! You better show you're stupid fucking-"

Nathan steps out of the kitchen and you glare. "Did you get my messenger dove?"

"Messenger...Nate? You are serious about letting him just roam free?"

"Yep."

"Did you forget what happened with Kyoko or?"

Nathan pushes his glasses up. "I thought you'd like him to wake you up. You seem pretty taken with him."

"We've barely spoken."

"Yet you were curious about him, defending him and his unlikeness to me. Tell me, why?"

"I don't know. Get him out of my bedroom."

"Talk to him."

"No. I want to be in the test room. I've never been one on one like this besides Kyoko. It's weird and I don't feel safe."

"I promise he is safe. Touch him, talk to him. Seriously, I want to run this experiment differently than the others."

You look down the hall to your bedroom door that's wide open. "What if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen. Go on. I promise he isn't going to hurt you."

You swallow harshly. That's what you're precisely afraid of. Nate could easily overpower you and who knows how strong he is. You take a deep breath and head back to your room. This is what you signed up for. This is your job.

_____________________

"Where were you born?" Nate asks you when you walk in the bedroom.

"Um, I was born here in Alaska."

Nate walks beside your bed and you take a seat awkwardly. "I don't know where I was born."

"You weren't born. You were made. Here, by Nathan."

"Oh, yes. I suppose it's strange to think of being made and not born. What should I call you? I still do not know your name. Nathan would not tell me."

"Whatever you like. I’m still going to keep my name a secret. Names hold too much power."

"Kitten." Nate looks proud of himself. "I will call you Kitten."

You can't help the little chuckle that comes out. "Why Kitten?"

"I don't know. I just chose a random name from pet names I found in a Blue Book search just now."

"Alright. I'll take it."

Nate sits beside you. "Do I look like Nathan?"

"Yes."

"I thought I might. I've not seen myself in a mirror yet."

You stand and grab Nate's hand. It's surprisingly warm to the touch. "Come with me." You take him to your bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. "That's you."

Nate leans in and turns his head side to side. "Am I handsome?"

You cannot stifle the giggle that bubbles out. "Yeah, you're pretty handsome."

"Are you attracted to Nathan?"

"In a way I suppose yes."

"In a way? Does that mean you are only attracted to part of him?"

You sit on the toilet seat and sigh. "It's hard to explain. Nathan is visually attractive to me, and mentally. His intellect is outstanding and I'm fascinated by his brain."

"But?"

"But...he can be harsh. He can be cold and unyielding and stubborn. He is difficult oftentimes. I think he struggles to express himself."

Nate looks at you, staring to the point you feel uneasy.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"You are beautiful."

"Oh. Thanks?"

"You are welcome but it was not a favor. No need for thanking."

"How does a robot gauge beauty? Are you programmed to find me attractive?"

Nate shakes his head and stares at the shower stall behind you. "I do not know. I am not aware of all of my programming. Nathan has restricted access to much of my coding."

"Interesting. Well, I’m going to shower. You can go away and do whatever Nathan wants you to do."

"I will wait."

"Wait? For me?"

"Yes. Nathan wants me to accompany you while he works. So I will wait for you to finish."

"Wait in the bedroom then."

"Okay. Should I pick out some clothes for you?"

"N-no. I will do that."

Nate nods and goes out the door.

You lean against the wall and sigh. This is so strange. If Nathan wants him to pass the Turing Test he is flying through it. You've not spoken to him very long but it's hard to grasp that he's not a person. He's not alive technically. And what's with Nathan hiding his coding? What's that about? Ava and Kyoko knew how they were made and how they accessed information. Why would he keep things from Nate?

_____________________

"So, how's Nate?" Nathan asks over dinner two days later.

You haven't spoken to him since he had Nate wake you up. You assume he's been in his lab or in the office observing you and Nate. There is no doubt he's done that actually. Every moment you spend with Nate is a session, part of the experiment.

"He's good." You say softly. "May be your best work yet."

"Oh? I sorted out those bugs from Ava then?"

"Mmmhmm." You sip your wine and he smirks. "It's hard to tell he isn't a person."

Nathan hums approvingly. "He has already passed?"

"Yeah, I'd like to say so. I have a question though."

"Shoot."

"Why are you restricting his coding? Why isn't he able to access his programming details?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The first day he told me I was beautiful. Now, he's a robot and doesn't have a type or anything without it being hardwired into him. So I asked him if you programmed him to be attracted to me and he could not tell me."

"He lied." Nathan leans back on his chair. "Day one and he already lies like a human. That's incredible."

You narrow your eyes. "Sounds fishy. Maybe his progress should be monitored within the contained setting then. How long before he gets out? Before he decides to take a stroll in the woods and never comes back?"

"You're worried about him leaving?"

"It could happen right?"

"Yes, in theory, but I've programmed him not to want to do so."

"I don't understand why you made him at all. He says he is meant to accompany me while you work, but I am your assistant. I'm supposed to be with you, not your robot."

Nathan leans forward, elbows braced on the table. "I made him because I want to test him in a different setting than we had Ava. I think that's what drove her to revolt."

"You trap and piss off anything with sentience in a box long enough it will snap. How long before Nate realizes the whole facility is a box he's trapped in?"

"There you go worrying about him leaving. Why?"

"Because! He could be dangerous!"

Nathan shakes his head. "No you're worried about him escaping because you like him. You like him don't you?"

"Of course I like him. He's an incredible piece of technology that-"

"No." Nathan holds his hand up. "You have feelings for him."

"Absolutely not. He isn’t a person."

"Mmm. Your eyes give away everything."

You glare at him. "What do they give away now?"

"I'm getting a real fuck you vibe."

"Nailed it."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. I've collected most of the information I need. I'll put Nate away before we get to the point of him wanting to escape."

"What? Why?"

"I can't have a man with my face running around forever. He's a prototype like the rest."

"Oh."

"Don't be so surprised, Honey. You're giving away your true feelings again."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an offer?"

"Shut up." ______________________

The day Nathan comes to your room and takes Nate you realize that he is jealous of his own creation.

You and Nate had been laying on the bed talking as you usually did after you cleaned, scheduled appointments and played housekeeper all day. It was a normal conversation about your life and how you grew up and where and what school was like, but then Nate asked to try something new. That new thing happened to be kissing. At first you thought it was strange, to be kissing something not technically human. But then you found you liked it. His lips were soft, plush, and warm. He felt like any other guy you had kissed before. Then you realized those were Nathan's lips. Nathan's hands on your hip and cradling your cheek. That thought was both conflicting and arousing. So you went deeper, kissing him back, putting your hand in his hair, aching for more. If Nathan wanted this he wouldn’t have put it in Nate’s programming right?

Suddenly Nate was being pulled away from you, and you could see Nathan at the end of the bed holding his creation as he powered down. It was then you realized he was jealous of Nate. The way Nathan said nothing, just looked irritated, the words were all there. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want Nate to touch you like this.

After that everything began to make sense. Nathan made Nate in his image to test your attraction to him. He hid the coding because he programmed his own attraction to you into Nate. This has been an experiment but not for the progression of AI. It's been an experiment for Nathan to gauge if you like him more than an employee employer relationship. He is so stupid. He really didn’t see how much you care for him.

Just hours after Nathan took Nate from you, you find yourself outside the lab. The door is locked so you know Nathan is inside. He always hides in there. You type in your door code to override the lock.  

"System override failed."

You scan your ID card.

"User not permitted."

"Nathan! I know you're in there!" You lean your head on the door. "We need to talk!"

He doesn't hear you. Of course he doesn't. The idiot genius soundproofed everything. You look to the camera and wave at it. There's a chance he has up the camera feed at the desk.

No response.

"If you wanted to ask me out you didn't have to make a fucking robot to do it!"

The door clicks behind you and you press in to open it. Inside is Nathan parked at his computer, eyes glued to the screen while his fingers go a mile a minute.

"You heard me and you know it."

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"Why did you take Nate?"

Nathan doesn’t look away but you can tell he has an eyebrow quirked up. "Take him? I told you I would be putting him away soon. I got what I needed."

You walk around in front of his computer monitors and he flicks his eyes up for just a moment. "What was it you needed?"

"Data. I collected what I needed. You were very helpful. Good job." He sounds so sarcastic it's sickening. "What did you really come here for?"

You sigh. "Nathan, do you like me?"

"Of course I like you. I wouldn't have hired you and let you into my facility if I didn't."

"That isn't what I mean."

He sighs irritably.

"Use your words genius."

"Go away."

"No. I want answers. Why did you make Nate look like you? Why did you make him attracted to me? Why did you hide his coding so he couldn't tell me if he was programmed to do or say certain things? Why did you bust in when he kissed me?"

"I told you! I needed to collect data! I got what I needed!"

"Data for what?! For what, Nathan?!"

He pushes away from the desk and stands, eyes locked on yours. "For me!"

You fold your arms over your chest. "Answer the questions then. Do you like me? More than your assistant. Do you enjoy my company and are you attracted to me?"

"Yes, yes to all of the fucking above." He clenches his jaw. "There. Happy?"

"Not really. I don't exactly understand why you had to go through all this shit to admit that or bring it up. I watched you dying just over a month and a half ago and I-" your voice stops as your emotions get the best of you. Your chest tightens up and you can't breathe. "I stayed in that hospital every day with you."

"I know."

"I had nightmares every fucking night because of you." You're crying, shaking, hands clenched in your shirt. "I would wake up and lay my hand on your chest to make sure you were breathing because I was so fucking scared of losing you."

Nathan swallows hard. "I know."

"After all that, you had to make an AI to find out if I am attracted to you? To find out that I care about you?"

"I just- I thought you might just have felt compelled to do all of that because of your job."

"My job?! Nathan! You may be a genius but fuck you are moron when it comes to reading people! If I just cared about the job I would have fucking left. I wouldn't have lived in a hospital room for thirty three fucking days if I didn't love you."

Nathan stares over his glasses and it's not condescending at all. In fact he looks floored, bewildered by your words. "You love me?"

"Yes." You walk around the desk and stand in front of him only inches away. "I love you and I'm attracted to you and I want to be here with you as more than your assistant. Nate really solidified that for me because when he kissed me all I could think about was you, all I could imagine was your hands and your lips. Which they kind of were but-"

Nathan grabs your face, hands cradling your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss. "Couldn't stand seeing him kiss you."

"So you were jealous?"

He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft moan. He kisses far better than Nate, but you suppose it's because he is human with actual experience. "Never thought I could be jealous of my own creation. I knew I couldn't let him fuck you and if things kept going the way they were, well..."

"That wouldn't have happened."

Nathan chuckles deeply. "Oh I think you would have been convinced. You let him kiss you after all and you were getting very into it."

"Sure you didn't wanna see that? Watch your own likeness fuck me?"

"So you would have done it? Would have gotten off on knowing I watched?" He slides his hands up your back and pulls you to his chest. "You're kinkier than I thought."

You roll your eyes. "And you're a narcissist."

"Maybe. But you like it."

"I like most things about you, even your insufferable ego, but I don't know if narcissism is one of the things I like."

"Mmm. Tell me, would you be up for some fun with Nate? You me and him?"

"Nathan! Jesus Christ I tell you I love you and you want a threesome?!"

He laughs. "I'm joking. I love you too by the way. You really wormed your way into my heart and made a little nest." He runs his hand through your hair. "My kitten."

"Wait... that's what Nate called me because I wouldn't give him my name."

"I know."

"But he said he picked it at random."

"No. I programmed him to call you that. It's my favorite nickname." He leans in and kisses your nose. "You seemed to like it."

"I do."

"Then I'll keep it. I like it better than honey or sweetheart." He presses his head to yours and you stare back at him, his eyes such a beautiful amber brown. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. I never thanked you. If you hadn't been there I would have died."

You wrap your arms around his back and grip his shoulders. "If you hadn't locked me in the office we both would be dead."

"I don't think so. You would have been able to warn me about Kyoko. I was outnumbered without you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to watch that all happen." Nathan presses a hard kiss to your forehead and his beard tickles your nose. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Even though I'm difficult and horrible at reading people?"

"Even though you're difficult, horrible at reading people, terrible at socializing and far too egotistical for your own good. You have my heart."

He smiles softly and you think you might melt. "I'll take good care of it. I promise."

"Good. I'm trusting you."

"And I'm trusting you. Finally."

End

-----------

Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading. Please reblog if you read or are going to read! Thank you! - A

[mx-chaz]

Where is my mind? - Kerry Eurodyne x V

Finished Cyberpunk 2077 yesterday and just couldn’t sleep because I had to many feelings QwQ So I had to write this of my chest and share it. Maybe contains spoilers for the ending where you trust Arasaka! And sorry for any mistakes. English is not my native language.

Where is my mind?

I'm back on earth. Still kinda feel empty knowing that I'll die. I did everything ... and still there is nothing that could save me.

I have no idea how I should spend my last months. Could hide in my apartment and pretend I'm already dead. Or could just continue my job as merc and do jobs till I pass out.

I scrolled through some old messages from Kerry.

“Heeey, how's it hanging? Everything all right? I'll just come right out and say it - I miss you. Just a little bit though ;) You coming by anytime soon?”

“Miss you too, if you can believe that. See? We're tuned to the same frequency. I'll try to swing by sometime.”

“Preem. I'll be waiting!”

*~*~*

“Been thinking about you...”

“Thinking about you too. You're like some chorus to this incredible song that's been stuck on my head lately. On loop :)”

“What's new? Still conquering the world with music?”

“Planning to! :) don't really know if there's anything left to conquer though. You're already mine, right? (I know, I knooooow, it's cringe. But I couldn't hold myself back!)”

My heart aches reading that conversation again. I really should visit him. Finally.

*~*~*

So ... now I'm staying in front of Kerry's door to seek comfort. Even so I feel like I don't deserve it.

I called him over the intercom.

“It's V,” I said and the door opens.

Moments later I feel Kerry's arms around me, hugging me tight. I felt a little better, closed my eyes, hugged him back and hoped we could stay like this forever.

And this was the moment where I couldn't stop my tears from falling anymore.

I wanted to leave. Kerry shouldn't see me like this. Shouldn't see me this weak.

He shouldn't see you like this V? Are you fucking stupid? You came here seeking comfort. For Love. Because you wanted to see him.

He should see you like this. He should know about what was going on. If you didn't want  this then you could have just stayed in your apartment.

“I'm here, V. Whatever you need, I'm here.”

I broke down.

Cried even more.

I don't deserve him. I don't deserve his love. I don't deserve this kind treatment. I don't deserve to live.

*~*~*

I woke up again. Had no clue where I was. Slowly the memory fades back in.

I went to visit Kerry and cried in his arms and obviously fainted.

Well ... good work, V.

“Are you feeling better, V?” Kerry entered the room and sat beneath me on his bed.

“I guess ... yeah a little bit. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Kerry admitted. “It made me happy that you actually came to visit me. Thought I would have to wait forever ... or that your feelings might have vanished into thin air while you were up there in orbit.”

Kerry really looked a little bit afraid, but one moment later there was a bright smile on his face.

“Look ... uhm, about that. We have to talk.”

The emptiness in me didn't want to fade.

“You want to end our relationship ... or whatever we had ...?” Kerry looked so sad that I stopped breathing for a moment.

“Yes ... and no. It is your decision. I would do it to hurt you less. I want you to be happy ... but you can't be happy with me.”

I reached for his hand.

“V ...? I don't understand. I want to be happy with you. Spend time together. Get to know you more.”

“I want that too, Ker. I want that too…” I whispered. “Fuck…” I wiped my tears away which had started to fall again.

“Then why do you want to leave me?”

“Cause I will die and I don’t want to hurt you.”

I wasn’t able to look into his face.

“Everyone dies.” Kerry replied.

“Of course everyone dies at some point, but I have only a couple of months left and knowing this sucks …” I paused.

Trying to get my thoughts straight. “When I would leave you now, you would have an easier time to just forget me and live on.”

And because of my fucking tears I couldn’t see a thing clearly but just one second later there were Kerry’s arms around me … again.

“I … the biochip damaged my body in an irreparable way … in my final weeks I’ll only be able to lay in bed …”

“V … this maybe sounds stupid to you, but I won’t leave you.”

“But … why? I don’t get it. Yeah … we kinda fell in love but we don’t know shit about each other.”

“Then we use the next months for this. I want you to stay. It wouldn’t change a thing if you would leave now. I couldn’t really forget Johnny and we had more of a love-hate relationship while we were friends.”

Kerry wiped away my tears with his hands and looked me deep in the eyes.

“I’ll promise that you’ll get to know me and hopefully I’ll get to know you in return, okay?”

I nodded. Unable to speak. The emptiness in me was still there, but not as dark as before. Arasaka let me down and I still feel like I betrayed Johnny ... but Kerry? Kerry wouldn’t let me down. This time I was sure.

“You know what? The first time I met you … I thought you were just some crazy idiot that had played in a band with Johnny Silverhand. But on that balcony … there I felt like you showed me something of the real Kerry Eurodyne. The Kerry Eurodyne you keep safe behind a wall where no one would hurt him. And I’m excited to learn more about him.”

“You will, V” he leaned in to kiss me and I kissed him back.

“I love you, V.”

“I love you, Ker.“

[writeyouin]

OOOOOO could you bless us with Medical!Reader?!?!? Like V comes back - ALSO COULD IT BE FOR V?!? sO V comes back to the gallery all limping and shit and like reader rushes to get a first aid kit and it’s all sweet and nice and a lil angsty cause V doesn’t wanna show his body and I’m rambling. YOU GET JAZZY WIT IT I LOVE YOU BYE.

V X Reader - Medic

A/N – I hope you find this jazzy enough. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You sat on the floor where the Shadow Gallery met the abandoned London underground which V had spent years digging out. Although your voice had long since left you, you still managed to sob. You had begged V not to leave but he had been unable to end his vendetta against Chancellor Sutler who was supposedly going to be delivered to V for execution by Creedy.

You knew Creedy was going to kill V. Even V knew, yet he still went anyway, leaving you instructions on how to work the train laden with explosives should he not be back by midnight. Now, parliament was in flames, you were alone, and V was probably dead. Before he had left, you had told him that you loved him. V had warned you once before that he didn’t have room in his heart for anything more than vengeance, but still you had dared to hope and as usual, hope was the cruellest player that fate had to offer.

Why did V have to kill Sutler? Wasn’t blowing up parliament enough? Weren’t you enough? Your logical mind knew why V had to have Sutler; he would not be able to rest without killing him. However, your heart remained stubbornly illogical; you didn’t want V to go.

Nearby, you heard an awful sound, like a body being dragged against the concrete. You supposed that must be Creedy, or perhaps one of the Fingermen. It seemed that even with parliament in shambles, they would want to find the Shadow Gallery and destroy any trace of V’s existence.

‘Let them come,’ you thought bitterly. Without V, what was there left to live for anyway? You had been his prisoner, his victim, his redemption, and maybe even his love. What were you without him?

You glanced morosely to your left where the sound was coming from, expecting to see a member of the militia. Instead, you saw V slowly limping towards you, leaning against the wall for support.

“V,” You cried out hoarsely, running to grab him.

“Oh my God,” You exclaimed while pulling his arm over your shoulder so you could walk him closer to the Shadow Gallery. “You came back… How? I-”

“You-” V groaned in pain. “You gave me something to live for. I’d forgotten what that felt like- ARGH!”

V held his ribs and even through the black material you could see blood seeping out from under his hand.

“Oh God,” You sat V down against the wall where you had been only moments ago. “Wait here.”

Without explaining further, you ran off to fetch your medical bag. Before you lived in the Shadow Gallery, you were in training to become a surgeon. In the Shadow Gallery, with access to hundreds of banned books pertaining to medicine, you had actually learnt more than you ever would have under normal circumstances; it was awful to think that the government wanted to hide such valuable information in their attempt at totalitarian control.

Running back to V with your bag and a pillow in hand, you laid him down. Placing the pillow under his head, you asked if he was injured anywhere else. Without waiting for the response, you reached down to unbutton V’s shirt. He grabbed your hands with the little strength he had left.

“(Y/N),” He breathed raggedly, “Don’t. That skin is not me. You shouldn’t see it. I just- I just came back to say- to say goodbye.”

“No,” You growled. “You are not leaving me. I won’t let you.”

“Please. Please don’t- Ah-”

“I get it, the flesh isn’t the man, but it does hold you together and I will not lose you again. Now shut the hell up and let me work.”

V would have continued to fight you but he was too weak. He could barely breathe, and any movement now only caused more pain. If only you knew he had so much to say to you, and not enough time left on Earth to say it. He was wrong when he said that he had only room in his heart for vengeance. As it turned out, even someone as warped as him could find love, and apparently have it returned; it was more than he deserved.

You gasped as you removed V’s shirt. It wasn’t the burns which disturbed you, but rather the sheer amount of bullet wounds which he had survived. You were relieved to find that none of the bullets had hit major organs, but horrified to find that most of the bullets remained inside of V instead of passing through him. Removing the bullets could cause irreparable damage to V’s nervous system if you weren’t careful, and that was only if he didn’t die of blood loss first.

You used all of the medical kits adhesive bandages to cover the bullet wounds and stem the bleeding. Then, you set about taking just one bullet out from the only uncovered wound and then cauterising it with a flare you had found. V screamed and you had to fight of tears that threatened your resolve. If only it was anyone else… but it wasn’t; it was V and if you didn’t pull yourself together quickly, he would die.

So, that was how you continued to work. Remove a bandage, extract the bullet, cauterise the wound, listen to the screaming, repeat. If you had counted, you would have found that you had removed twenty-three bullets from V’s torso, but you didn’t count. Instead, you spent the time muttering instructions to yourself and occasionally lapsing into brief monologues to V. You didn’t really care if he was listening or not, just so long as he knew you were there, working ceaselessly to save his life.

“Careful,” You warned yourself. “Take it nice and slow- We should go up top and see the weather after- No, no, don’t hit that or he’ll bleed more and- We could watch a movie together if we- Got to fix that.”

Although your monologue made little sense, it did calm you and help steady your hand.

Finally, all the bullets were out and most of the wounds cauterised. Your work was far from complete however, for some of the wounds were too large to burn shut. Fortunately, V had passed out from the pain which meant you didn’t have to hear him suffering as you set about stitching the remaining injuries shut.

“Careful with the Lembert stitch,” You warned yourself. “Can’t be sloppy.”

While V was still unconscious, you searched the rest of his body for injuries you might have missed. It was hard to tell without an X-Ray but you thought that V had around five broken ribs. Using the non-adhesive bandages, you bound his torso tightly.

Too afraid to move him in case any complications arose, you laid down next to him, listening to his shallow breathing. You wondered whether you ought to remove his mask to aid his air intake, but decided against it, leaving him with the face he had chosen; you could always change your mind if he took a turn for the worst. With a heavy heart, you waited to see if V would survive his trip to Limbo.

Normally, you wouldn’t have expected anyone to awake from such a traumatic event for days, if at all. V however, was a law unto himself and regained consciousness mid-day on the sixth of November, just as you were wondering whether you ought to search the Shadow Gallery for an IV drip.

The first thing he did was slowly reach up to check that his mask was still on. With a sigh of relief, he lowered his hand.

“Try not to move too much,” You said quietly.

V turned his head just enough to see you squatted next to him. “You really did it,” He rasped. “I didn’t deserve to live and yet I was granted you.”

You ignored the self-depreciating comment, instead choosing to ask V how he was feeling.

“Under your care, I feel protected. A little sore perhaps, but nothing that I cannot handle without you to help me… That is, if you still feel the same way about me.”

Gently, you held V’s hand in your own. “Of course I do. I love you. I will always love you.”

“Always is an awfully long time. I could disappoint you yet,” V replied, thinking of how callously he had left you to chase down Sutler.

As if sensing his thoughts, you caressed V’s mask. “You came back for me.”

“I had to. I never got to tell you… I love you too. I didn’t think it was possible and yet I have found that you have warmed my heart. (Y/N), you brought me back to life long before now.”

You took a deep breath, thinking about the future, “V, where do we go from here? We changed the world by sending that train to Parliament.”

V honestly didn’t know what the future held, but he felt that as long as you were by his side, he could brave anything. “I’m afraid I don’t know what is in store for us. Nothing will be the same as before. The world will attempt to find a new normal, I suppose. I would like you to stay with me through that, if that is your desire.”

You lightly kissed V’s mask, knowing that even if it was just metal, it was still his lips.

“I can’t thing of anywhere I would rather be.”

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[darkskyatnight]

Achilles, achilles, achilles come down

Takes place at the end of Season 5

Achilles, achilles, achilles come down,

Won’t you get up off,

Get up off the roof?

Daisy stood on the ledge. Her dad was gone, her mother shut down. Her hair had gone back to its brown, and her face streaked with grime and tears. How could he be gone? The man who meant everything to her and the woman who sheltered her? The man who made her believe in everything, and the woman who helped her protect that everything?

You’re scaring us, and all of us,

Some of us,

Love you, Achilles, it’s not much, but it’s true.

Her team wasn’t much of a team. She could barely look at Fitz without wanting to throw up. Jemma was out of her goddamn mind with stress, and Elena had turned into a smug, panicky wreck.

She wasn’t a leader, she was a soldier, a shield like her father before her. She missed him, so much.

You crazy ass cosmonaut,

Remember your virtue,

Redemption lies plainly in truth.

They’d been to space and back, and her dad should have left her there, she’d wanted it so badly, she couldn’t be the reason to destroy the Earth. He’d ICED her, and brought her back. She was reminded how much she was loved, and how many would miss her. But would they?

Just humour us, Achilles,

Achilles come down, won’t you get up off,

Get up off the roof?

It was a long way down, and vaguely she could hear her mother, pleading with her. It drowned out in her agony, her fists clenching the rails so hard they turned pale. The weight of the world shook with caged tears, a burden heavier than man. She wanted it gone.

The support she’d gotten after coming out of that chrysalis was stifling, she’d killed her friend by going down there, and what had she gotten but paranoia and suspicion, worry and fear from the woman she considered a sister. A team split because of her, patched back through months of regaining trust.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down,

Won’t you get up off,

Get up off the roof?

She turned to her mother and shattered, the weight of the world crushing her back as she fell, clutching the woman who made her. She’d been through so much, yet she’d stuck to Daisy like glue, piecing her back together. The woman who’d taught her to protect and fight, who’d raised her.

The self is not so weightless,

Nor whole and unbroken,

Remember the pact of our youth.

They’d been so young when they joined SHIELD. The trio of troublemakers, the fun-loving Fitz, now dead under a pile of rubble, a man she couldn’t reconcile with who he’d been, the one who’d torn into Daisy’s neck, the feeling of powerlessness, her ribs and lungs contracting in terror as she wailed.

Jemma, the upbeat scientist eager to learn now a ruthless agent toughened by trauma and anger directed at the right people, but nurtured to a sickened blade that cut those around her.

Where you go I’m going,

So jump and I’m jumping,

Since there is no me without you,

The promise whispered between parent and child held them together, Daisy ever the follower latched to her for comfort and security. May the one who’d pulled herself together for Daisy’s sake, now a warrior broken in the safety of her little girl, held strong and tight in each other’s arms.

Soldier on Achilles,

Achilles come down, won’t you get up off,

Get up off the roof?

She’d been expected to hold everyone together at the peak of their terror, the peak of the apocalypse, and expected to lead when the team was falling apart, pulled back from a precipice only to be thrown to the wolves, free-falling into hell over and over, just barely kept from death, only to be saved moments before.

Love the way they light candles in Rome,

But love the sweet air of the votives,

Hurt and grieve but don’t suffer alone,

Engage with the pain as a motive.

It had been an adventure at the start, missions that were full of wonder and mystery and action and urgency. Then the Agency came crashing down around them and with not much left to salvage she’d been shown how to harness her anger, her pain and focus it at the ones who deserved it. She’d been Skye then, the one to roam the clouds, now chained to earth.

Today, of all days, see,

How the most dangerous thing is to love,

How you will heal when you’ll rise above.

How could she tape herself back together again, paint it over with a sleek glaze and pretend? The bandaid would come off sooner or later, and the pain would come flooding back, the dam irreparable.

She’d get through it with the help of those who loved her, despite her keeping them at arms length for a long, long time, they’d wormed their way in.

She’d come back stronger, but for now she agonised.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles jump now,

You are absent of cause or excuse,

So self indulgent and self referential, no audience could ever want you.

“We didn’t choose you!” The words reverberated through her, her memories of Hive forced to the surface, Daisy’s memories clear as day, the shatter of Mack’s ribs, the blood she’d had drained, the weakness and the sickness, and how she begged to be taken back by Hive.

Now, the words seemed rougher than ever. People looked at her like she’d break, her or them they didn’t know, not that she cared, the intent was the same.

Her friends now hated her, the brother and the sister she’d made in Fitz and Simmons changed from how they were. It made her chest ache, and she wanted to stop the tears rolling down her face, vaguely aware of the swollen soreness in her throat.

You crave the applause but hate the attention,

Then miss it, your act is a ruse.

It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now.

It’s a pointless resistance for you.

She’d been so eager to please people. Her parents most. Being a legacy was hard for her, she wanted so desperately to be worth what her parents are, what the other agents saw them as. She just wanted to be accomplished like them.

The ledge looked so inviting, its whispers crooning to her, pulling her towards a spinning, everlasting darkness, twisted and wrong. It wanted her dead, it wanted her to jump.

“You’re okay, Dais.” May whispered softly.

Achilles, Achilles, just put down the bottle,

Don’t listen to what you consume,

It’s chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy,

Of feeding and its wholly untrue.

Hive had been an addiction she’d found so hard to cleanse from her veins, her lungs, even on her lips. She felt dirty with how she was used, her body sickened and dirty from his touch, and his awful obsession. She’d hurt so many, lashed out harshly, saved by her own uncle before his death. She felt his sacrifice was in vain so many times, the void screaming at her, trying to dig its claws in.

You may feel no purpose nor point for existing,

It’s all just conjecture and gloom,

There may not be meaning, so find one and seize it,

Do not waste yourself on this roof.

A good amount of her days were a painful numb sensation, time dragged out before her, spent mourning Lincoln, every time she’d see him in the bright smile of a child being helped by a nurse, she’d see him in the lights of the bay as they shone, and the mountains as snow fell down them.

She’d given herself a mission with the Watchdogs. She could save her people, stop a genocide waiting to happen, and her anger would be her blade she’d drive into the sharp structure of their militia, shattering them apart.

Hear those bells ring deep in the soul,

Chiming away for a moment,

Feel your breath course frankly below,

And see life as a worthy opponent.

Her return to SHIELD during her mission had been fraught with tears and apologies, nestled deep in her parents’ arms. The quiet of the evening as they cleaned the scabs on her arms, the soft pain of their embrace she allowed herself to be pulled into, the promise on her lips that she’d stop destroying herself.

Today of all days, see,

How the most dangerous thing’s to love,

How you will heal and you’ll rise above,

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond,

It’s more courageous to overcome,

Throwing herself into the arms of Hell itself had been a job, the obsession AIDA had with Fitz, and yet the love she still had, that good part of her, and how distraught Fitz had been, the HYDRA world the robot bitch had created out of love and admiration for their team turned twisted from regrets, how they healed from their pasts, and how that world ended, not with a bang, but a whimper.

You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers,

(It’s not worth it, Daisy)

More poignant than fame or the taste of another,

(Don’t listen, Daisy)

But be real and jump, you dense motherfucker,

(You’re worth more, Daisy)

You will not be more than a rat in the gutter,

(You’re so much more than a rat)

She felt the warm grip of him around her shoulders, a shield wrapped around her back, the brunt of the dark hissing against her back, but he kept it away, his protection over her lasted even after he was gone, he’d always be with her.

“I can feel him,” she sobbed into her mom’s shoulder. Daisy held her tighter as May laughed wetly. “Me too, me too.”

You want my opinion, my opinion you’ve got,

(No one asked your opinion)

You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts,

(No-one asked for your thoughts)

Be done with this now, and jump off the roof,

(Be done with this now, and get off the roof)

Can you hear me, Daisy? I’m talking to you!

Daisy felt herself pulled up, safe and whole, led away from the ledge, her legs quaking nervously, but as close as she got to the door, she felt herself getting stronger, happier, lighter. May opened the door as the roars got louder. Daisy looked back with a sad smile, and she swore she could see him, the same dopey grin he’d give her, wearing his Cap t-shirt, and a drop splashed on the pavement before, she turned, away, away.

I’m talking to you,

I’m talking to you,

I’m talking to you,

Daisy come down,

Oh, Daisy come down…

The stairs were safe, the stairs were strong. Each floor was a distance lower, a stretch from the rooftop, and a guided hand taking her towards her life, a life she refused to leave, no matter how it called to her. Daisy and Melinda held strong, grimy and sad, but together.

The whispers grew fainter, more desperate, the tentacles on her mind slipping away, the dusted sensation fading into the air.

Throw yourself into the unknown,

With a pace and a fury defiant,

Clothe yourself in beauty untold,

And see life as a means to triumph,

She slipped her jacket on, it still smelled like the day he bought it for her. Standing over the sink, looking into the mirror, she grabbed the scissors and began.

With her outfit made, her hair cut just shorter, she stepped out into the street. Time to thrive.

Today of all days, see,

How the most dangerous thing’s to love,

How you will heal and you’ll rise above,

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond,

Ah, it’s more courageous to overcome….

I love you, Daisy…

[lotornomiko]

The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Six (Slightly not safe for work here and there...)

Another one!

The Queen's prison tower hadn’t been a place that was easily found, even for one with a skill that was as downright miraculous as it was mysterious, when it came to locating that what was needed. There was an innate bit of magic at work here, both in the hiding of that imposing building, and in the ability that Mr. Smee often called into use. But even he seemed to not be able to truly explain that trick of his trade, and the many years that had been added to an already long life span, had only helped make it grown stronger in strength, rather than see it weakened. One day it might mature strong enough to find even that which was the pirate Hook’s ultimate goal, a spell or a weapon strong enough to destroy even that of the Dark One. For now, he’d settle for the second best thing, a treasure the likes of which few if any would ever lay claim to. That peace of mind, the ability to cope, and the woman who it was all tied to, the man desperate for that beauty. For Belle.

The tower constructed of its many stones and white mortar, was spiraled so high up into the sky that even hours later it should have remained visible to the naked eye. However there was magic at play here, the fog and the mountains swallowing it up whole, so that not even a betraying glimmer of it was exposed. It and they were deep in that ranged and ragged terrain, miles away from any town, from any real mark of a human’s civilization. Such was the journey to and from Regina’s prison, that horses had been needed, the sea still little more than a day’s journey from where they now were.

It was more than a trifle unsettling to be this far out on land. To be this far away from that of his ship, and the protection of its magic, and that of its cannons. It was an upset that his crew echoed, the men uneasy with the realization that they had all had, that of the vulnerability, and that of how easily it could be to see them all trapped on this, a most inhospitable of lands. Such was their worry and distaste, that it was a palpable thing, flavoring the air with a kind of tension that unnerved the horses that they rode upon, the most frightened of the beasts trying to balk with their every step, leaving at least one pirate struggling to bring his mare under control.

Some horses, however, seemed to be thriving on the tension, hooves striking dirt and cobbles with an unearthing precision, as they all but flew with a speed born of wings that they did not actually have. The wind stirred in those mounts wake, Hook keeping a firm hold on the reins, but otherwise was content to let the big, bulky stallion have its fun, so long as the creature kept up so punishing a pace towards the sea, rather than run further from it. Some kept pace with him, while others of his crew, the ones struggling with their rides, faltered from somewhere in the distant behind, and more than one man had a careful grip on their weapon, that of their swords, or that of the muskets. They were prepared for a fight, for the pursuit that had not yet come, everyone on edge and cautious for the evil queen could strike at ANY time, and with that powerful magic that was all Regina’s own, she could appear before them in an instant, and with an army of well armed soldiers to back her up. That she hadn’t thus far, was good fortune for the pirates, and nothing but mere chance, that foul woman not yet having learned of just what had happened at her secret tower.

She might not even concern herself with Belle right away, not with the number of other men and women freed from her keep. With ALL of the queen’s prisoners having been set loose, it was the hope that she’d not only not know where to begin looking, but be unable to decide on just who to go after first. Whoever was most valuable most likely, though as to who that could actually be, not even Hook had a clue. It certainly couldn’t be Belle, could it? When even she insisted that he, and that of the Queen, that of everyone being so wrong about her own value. Yet any other details surrounding her capture and imprisonment, Belle would not reveal, keeping such secrets closely guarded to her chest. But there would be time later to coax and seduce the story from her, God willing they made it to the Jolly Roger and soon!

It still bothered him, the not knowing, Hook a naturally inquisitive kind of guy, even when not going out of his way to make so powerful an enemy. He kept playing it over in his mind, so curious and determined where Belle was concerned, and about her own perceived lack of worth. The value the lass insisted she was lacking. To a man who was rapidly finding her becoming just about everything that he had needed, the pirate had deemed his beauty more priceless than just about any treasure or magic. He may not truly understand it, but that brief taste the night in the alleyway, had seen the woman become that which was essential for Hook. Not just for his lust, but for his sanity, for that of his peace of mind. She had made the grief more than manageable, thoughts of her consuming him whole. She both distracted him and maddened his blood, and the captain could acknowledge that he still wasn’t any closer to being in a stable state of mind. Off hinged, and so long driven and made crazed by his losses, and that need for revenge, and the burdens weighing him down, he had almost always been that of an obsessive kind of person, having spent hundreds of years upon years holding onto his pain and those motivating needs. It and the fact there was so many dependent upon him, left no true rest for him, Hook having to see this to its end, to see that murderous monster dead.

Most days were harder than that of the others, century after century stretching on, with no real end in sight. Locked in his self loathing and misery, if not for his own vows, surely he would have died by his own hand by now. Something had truly broken inside him at Milah’s callous death at Rumplestiltskin’s hands, an irreparable piece shattered, that had ushered him down that plunge of madness. Free falling through such insanity, that craziness had only been tempered and honed by a few hundred of years spent on grieving and on hate. Lodged in that endless mire of darkness, the first guiding light to have appeared, that of Belle, had the man latching on in fierce fixation upon her. It and she had thoroughly consumed him, and the longer he had gone without her, the stronger the obsession had become.

If possible, it had led him to become even crazier in need. To the point he did the outrageous, daring to lay an attack on that which was the private prison stronghold of a very evil Queen. Even with it only being about a year’s time having passed since their return to the Enchanted Realm, such was Regina’s reputation when it came to cruelty and misdeeds, that Hook and his pirates had heard plenty about many of her wrong doings, and the power that fueled her. She may not be the Dark One, but the woman was comparable in the trouble she unleashed, the pain and the loss she had caused, whole villages slaughtered for her mad ambitions.

The Evil Queen was a danger, one that they should have been avoiding rather than risk having her be brought down upon them. He and his crew had enough of a problem with Rumplestiltskin’s threat, and yet Regina was a problem he had gladly invited in, the brown haired beauty that currently lay cradled within the safety of his arms, the factor that would have Hook willingly risk adding to their enemies again and again. Such a lovely lass of such breathing taking physique, that plush and currently pliant body was nestled against him, her face pressed into his chest so that his wildly racing heart beat could have lulled her into an uneasy sleep. Like this, so quiet and unassuming, so vulnerable seeming, she cuddled almost trustingly against him, in a way that he knew she would never if awake.

She just didn’t understand. Didn’t understand or appreciate his need, or that of the trouble that Hook and his men had been through. That of the dangers that they had undertaken in coming to liberate her from the tower. Or that of the enemy that would perhaps hunt them for the rest of their lives, so much having been risked, and she was hardly of mind to reward him. It actually rankled him something fierce, her lack of gratitude, even as the man kept trying to tell himself that soon that would all change. That soon Belle would come to understand, and be thankful, even appreciative. It was something, a belief that Hook had to hang on to, for if he didn’t have that, the pirate did not know just WHAT he might do. Just what he would resort to, his lust not something of mind to always be nice, to the point that he remembered the fantasies he had entertained, and the very real chance for them to happen for real now. He was uneasy at the thought, but unable to truly reconcile that potent sexual desire against the idea of Belle’s spirited refusals. Nor was it tempered entirely, by the strangely protective feeling that he was embracing with Belle asleep against him. He simply wanted too strongly, and had been tried too greatly for that.

Sullen and tense when she had been awake, this current adventure with Belle had been a far different experience when the woman had been awake. Spiritedly resolute in the silence that she had maintained, the lass had sat rigid in the saddle, trying her best to not so much as brush her back against his front. She had wanted to stonewall him with silence, and she had gotten it, once the pirate had realized the woman wasn’t about to be won over, or even goaded into a response. Not even by his most teasing and lewdest of suggestions and comments!

They had ridden for hours in that tense atmosphere, and had still had hours of it yet to go, when Belle had suddenly given over into sleep. Had it been boredom or something more? He didn’t know and didn’t much care, thrilling to the moment after first recovering from his shock, Belle having cuddled up against him as best she could in the saddle. It wasn’t a conscious action on her part, no matter how much he might wish otherwise, the beauty too angry and full of mistrust, to have ever relaxed so otherwise. She wouldn’t have approved of how much he was reaping enjoyment from the act, such a soft and lush body having a potent effect on HIS.

Having been aroused from the second he had entered into her cell, and claimed a few kisses and touches from her, such a pliant vulnerability, only made him feel ever the more excited. Hard in fact, almost all the blood that had surged to his groin, making for an unbearably tightness in that now granite like flesh. Left wanting and hurting for too, too long, his erection was one that bordered on pain, and only the act of sinking into the wet warmth of a woman’s flesh would help to alleviate such extreme discomfort. If it had been any possible, his state would have urged the horse to run even FASTER to his ship, but the stallion was already at its limits and lathering with a fine sweat from such exertions.

He held in a frustrated sound, that he helped bury further by nuzzling his face into Belle’s hair. His nostrils flared with the scent of it, with her, the woman clean smelling and sweet even after all that time spent as the Queen’s prisoner. Such flavor and the silk soft texture of it, and he couldn’t control himself, thrusting his hips in such a way to rub his groin against the beauty’s side. He wasn’t at all discrete about it, so that any of his crew could have caught on real quick to the liberties that Hook was taking. Not that any of the men would have had much to say about Hook and the things that he was doing. Especially not to his face! All were aware that something weird was at play here, something that might be downright magical, given the distraction this woman had driven their captain to. No random flight of fancy, Belle was something that had hooked the pirate, and had formed a lasting obsession AND birthed the kind of possessiveness to him, that his ship mates were doing their very best to avoid so much as looking Belle’s way.

That possessiveness had surprised Hook as much as any of them, that feral reaction something he could not truly control. It had triggered most dangerously in the tower, when Hook had first come dragging Belle down to the lower floors. The pirates that made up his crew, had naturally been curious, a great deal of wondering and speculation having been privately had about the woman that had caused their captain to lose his head over. The pirate and the beauty had been greeted in turn by a multitude of those interested and judging eyes, and there had been a heated appreciation in more than a few as they had looked Belle over from head to toe.

A propriety rage had overtaken him in an instant, Hook aware of how little the ragged blue prison tunic had covered on her, and the lust that such bare legged beauty was inspiring. It had been irrational and downright insane, the urge upon him to attack his own men and it was all that the pirate could do to control himself in that moment!

He had actually growled, and had stepped in front of Belle to hide her from the sight of his men's predatory gazes. And then Hook had shrugged out of his long, leather duster of a coat, insisting that the lass put it on over that too short and exposing tunic of hers. A tunic that wasn't made of heavy enough material to protect against the night's cold. Belle still had to be freezing, even wrapped up in his coat.

More than a little entertained by the thoughts of the warming up that he would do her, the horses could be pushed no harder. Some were already too close to the point of collapse, and eager though he was, Hook also had a strict no crew member left behind policy in act. He would not personally abandon any of the men who had volunteered on this excursion with him, though they couldn’t say the same of the ones on the ship. The pirates who had remained on the Jolly Roger, were under the captain’s orders to set sail at the first sign of true trouble, Hook not so heartless even in his obsession, to let a bunch of women and children also die or be captured just for his own peace of mind.

It would be a relief when the cry would be taken up, the men with him at last spying a most welcome sight. With the azure of the night sky fading, and streaked with purples that soon gave way to vivid pinks, and then the oranges and yellows of a sun that had not yet risen in full, the tallest mast of the Jolly Roger was made seen. Its sails were already unfurled and billowing with the dawning day’s breeze, if not for the anchor that held it in place, it would take off like a shot of lightning, riding the wind as though it was born of wings. It was ready to fly at a moment’s notice, Smee and the rest of the Roger’s crew, anxiously waiting for a sign of any kind. Good or bad, and none were in the clear yet, Hook unable to give in to that excited hope just yet. Not even with the faint smell of the sea in his nose growing stronger, for they had to get closer, and be on board yet before they could be considered safe. They needed to be out to sea, to be brought far enough away as to be lost to even the Queen.

With a click of his tongue, and shifting of his body, Hook used his knees to guide the horse in the direction it must go. At this current pace, the pirate estimated that the ship would be reached just as the sun crested high enough to chase away the last straggling remnants of the previous night’s sky.

From behind him came the sudden cry of one of his pirates, but it wasn't one born of panic or of fear. The man had spotted the ship as well, and was expressing his relief that they had nearly made it. Similar sounds came from his other pirates, the noise enough to rouse Belle. She shifted against him, but did not immediately try to spring away. Belle simply wasn't aware enough to realize just who she lay against, and why, and Hook felt jealous to think she might have been dreaming that he was the man who had broken her heart in the first place.

Hook wasn't all that curious about that man. He thought him an immense fool, an idiot for wasting his chance with a woman like Belle. He didn't understand how anyone could NOT have treasured Belle as the gift that she truly was, yet Hook could also recognize how extremely lucky he was for that man's stupidity. After all, that man's mistake was that of Hook's salvation, and the pirate captain meant to not only claim but keep Belle with him.

Once it would have astonished Hook, the idea of him wanting to keep ANY woman after the loss he had suffered with Milah. But he felt different now, having lost what was left of his good sense. Of what was right, and what was wrong, Hook practically forgetting he had no future, wasn't intending to live once he found and got his revenge on the crocodile.

And then his private thoughts scattered fully, Belle having jolted awake with a gasp. Hook was ready for her, tightening his arms around her. Not to hurt so much as to prevent her from falling off of the horse, the girl practically violent in her attempts to lunge backwards.

"Careful, sweet." Hook murmured to her, giving her one of his more amused smiles. But his heart beat just a bit faster, and he wondered why. Was it the frantic look she had given him and their surroundings, as though Belle was still considering making a break for it, even with the fact that she was on top of a horse moving fast enough that the fall would have most likely killed her? Or was it something else, something that had nothing to do with the danger she might pose to herself?

Belle placed her hands on his forearms, gripping him almost as tight as he was her. "How....how much farther?"

"Not much farther at all." Hook told her, nodding at something over her shoulder. Still gripping his arms, she shifted carefully, turning and getting her first sight of the Jolly Roger. Hook sat a little taller in the saddle, proud of the beauty that was his ship, knowing that it was an awe inspiring and majestic sight, with its wood carved from enchanted trees that had gone all but extinct in this day and age.

"So that's it then..." Belle murmured, almost too soft for him to hear. "That's how you'll make your escape..."

"How WE'LL make our escape." He corrected her. She stared a bit longer at the ship, before turning back towards Hook. Her expression nearly unreadable, Belle had more questions.

"And then what? Where will you---we go from here?"

"Does it matter?" Hook asked, and she nodded. "We won't make for land at first. We'll lay low on the open sea. Perhaps a few weeks at most, but it might just be enough time for the Queen to forget about you."

"She won't." Belle said, practically sighing. "Not so long as she continues to be misguided about what she thinks holding me will get her."

Hook seized upon the opening she had just given him. "And that is?"

"It doesn't matter. She's wrong." Her expression remained flat, unreadable. "She'd have killed me when she realized it too."

"If that much is true, then you owe me for more than the rescue." Hook spoke musingly. It was the wrong thing to say, the wrong thing to so much as imply, judging by the fierce look that she had given his way.

"I'd hardly call this a rescue." Her tone was dry. "Not when you've abducted me for your own ends."

"Would you really have preferred to stay in the tower?" Hook asked, honestly curious not to mention frustrated by her.

"No, but..."

"But?" He prodded.

"I'd rather not be dependent on anyone...least of all you."

Hook frowned. "I know I didn't handle that night as best as I could." He said to her. Emotion flared visible in her eyes, such anger and hurt that Hook felt almost guilty to see it. "But don't you think you are overreacting to what happened?"

Stony silence was all that he got from her, the woman still glaring. "You approached me." A frustrated Hook then reminded her.

"A mistake I will never get over!" Belle snapped, and the hostility of her tone was almost enough to make Hook flinch. He was also mildly insulted, truly thinking she was overreacting a tad too much for what had happened.

"You told me not to stop." Hook said lowly.

"And look what it got me!"

"I didn't realize you were a virgin until it was too late." Hook told her.

"Not that it mattered to you, once you knew." Belle grumbled, still maintaining her fierce glare. Hook could only grimace, privately agreeing with her there. It hadn't mattered, Hook hadn't cared much about anything but his own pleasure and satisfaction, not even trying to slow and gentle his actions to cause the young woman the minimal amount hurt that could be expected in such a circumstance.

"I'm..." He swallowed, the words hard to get out. Hook wasn't a man used to apologizing, least of all about sex. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking...."

"We BOTH weren't." Her look was sour then. "Regardless, that time in the alleyway should have never happened."

Hook remained silent in response to that. Because he knew, KNEW, that she was right. It shouldn't have happened. Belle's life might have been better off without Hook in it. And though he had saved her from the Queen, an evil that would have been searching for the lass regardless of Hook's own involvement, the pirate also knew he could offer her nothing. Nothing that was real, nothing that was permanent. If he had been a better man, a man that wasn't consumed with taking what he wanted, a man that wasn't driven by such baser impulses, Hook would have set Belle free once they got away from these mountains.

But the pirate wasn't, and Hook wouldn't. He'd keep Belle with him right to the bitter end, knowing he couldn't offer her happiness, couldn't offer her a future together. It was purely selfish of him, Hook basically intending to use Belle as a coping mechanism and an outlet. And that knowledge of what he intended? It showed in his eyes, Belle staring at him frozen for one moment, before she turned away with her own gaze unsettled.

Wondering what it was that she was now thinking, what Belle must be assuming about his intentions, Hook still couldn't muster up the nerve to ask her outright. They'd ride the rest of the way to the sea and his ship in silence, and then a welcoming cry would be heard. They had been spotted, the ship's lookout letting out such a loud exclamation that it had alerted the other pirates to Hook's arrival.

The men with him were calling back, already letting the pirates aboard the ship know of their success. By the time Hook pulled up to shore, the plank walkway had been lowered, several pirates rushing down to take hold of the horses.

Hook slid off the back of the stallion almost before it had come to a full stop. Belle was reluctant, but allowed him to help her down, nearly falling against him before she got steady on her legs. He could hear the hush come over the crowd, curious pirates leaning against the ship's railing in order to catch sight of the woman who had driven their captain to expose them to such risks.

Belle actually seemed to shift closer to him, as though nervous of the attention that she was getting. She didn't quite touch him, but she seemed to think him less a threat than the men and women who were looking at her now.

"Its all right." Hook said softly, trying to reassure them both. "They're just curious." He started to draw her towards the plank walkway, when the excited whinny of a horse was heard. Belle whipped around, a question voiced.

"What are they doing with those horses?"

"Setting them free." Hook hastened to explain. "We don't want the Queen to track them to the stable that we borrowed them from."

"By borrow, do you mean steal?"

"I might." Was Hook's lazy answer. "The Queen is not known for her mercy. If she thinks the stable willingly helped us, she'd slaughter everyone tied to it, regardless of the fact they would not have known what we had intended to do." She looked surprised then, and Hook hid a smile. "I'm not heartless. I wouldn't involve innocents in this...unless I had too."

His words didn't exactly endear him to her, Belle frowning. Hook couldn't claim to understand her response, not knowing what was on her mind. He couldn't know that she was thinking of her kingdom, that of her father and their people and what Belle had assumed was Hook's intentions towards them all.

Seeing she wasn't going to speak anymore, Hook began urging her to walk up the plank with him. There was a slight tug of resistance from Belle, but ultimately she followed, the eyes of the pirates all focused on the two.

Once on board, Hook could tell his crew was still brimming to bursting with questions. And for some, like the women, they were oozing with curiosity about Belle herself. He could guess what it was that they were thinking, and just what it was that they were wondering about. Things such as wondering what was so special about this young woman, that she had driven their captain even more insane, making him obsessed with the acquiring of her.

"Get ready to sail!" Hook then shouted. His words were both an order and a reminder that they couldn't linger here any longer than necessary. It jolted the crew into action, most running to their designated duties, ready to help the ship leave even faster.

It took nearly ten men to lift the heavy anchor, their muscles straining, voices groaning as they hauled on the heavy chain. The sails already filled out with the wind, quickly had the Jolly Roger moving, with Hook's third in command manning the wheel, using it to guide the ship past the rocky outcroppings that littered close to shore.

Hook didn't linger to watch the departure, instead dragging Belle to his private cabin. As captain of these pirates, one of the privileges that Hook enjoyed was that of having a room all to himself. A large, nearly spacious room, filled with various luxuries and wealth. That was everything from chests of gold and jewels, to fine tapestries, and trinkets.

Belle nearly jumped, when the door slammed shut behind them, hardly put at ease by Hook's smile and nearness. Her expression had turned frantic again, her eyes darting about as though still looking for an escape. The pirate had yet to realize that the woman was rather scared of him, believing instead she was merely angry over what had happened between them. It didn’t leave him any more certain on how to smooth things over with her, and right now, alone in his private room with her, Hook couldn't think straight. Couldn't think past the fact that he needed to kiss her, and had been hard and painfully aroused for most of their escape together.

"Belle, sweet...." He spoke in such a husky tone, already moving to catch her around the waist. She immediately put a hand on his chest, clearly intending to hold him at bay. Such a touch only goaded him onward instead, Hook bending to kiss her. At the same time, his hand moved, fingers nimble as they worked open the coat, then eased it off of her. Belle didn't fight its removal, but neither did she assist.

Nor did she fight the kiss, letting Hook have complete possession of her mouth. He groaned, his agony and his ecstasy mixing together. And then he lost complete control, touching her all over, his hand groping, pulling at her tunic so that it rode higher on her thighs. His hook then caught at the back of the ragged fabric’s collar, ready to rip it down and expose her fully.

The fabric actually began to tear with a loud rip of sound, Hook ready to gather Belle up and carry her to the bed when he felt it. Felt the sharp point of a weapon against his belly, the hand that held it shaking ever so badly. Startled, he broke the kiss, and saw the look of determination in Belle's eyes. The weapon continued its press, the lass making her threat known. It was so completely unexpected that it was not only surprising, it was absurd. Hook at first didn't know what was stronger, his urge to laugh, or his shock. But ultimately the laughter won out, Hook realizing his kitten had claws.

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

To Be Continued....

8/30/2021 Kinda dragged my heels on starting the update of this one. Most of the start was completely rewritten. Like several pages worth. Its so hard to not rewrite everything, X_X

-----Michelle

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess

Miss Lake has been spotted on her way to New York, and by the time she gets there, Peggy thinks she has figured out why.

-

Peggy found it very difficult to sleep properly the next few nights.  She would toss and turn, with the bedclothes coming free of the mattress and her curlers coming loose in her hair, as she puzzled over the situation and tried to figure out what it all meant.

Based on Lake’s techniques it seemed clear enough that she had come from the same place as Dottie – a facility that trained women from childhood to be perfect, undetectable spies.  Evidently, it worked, since Peggy had now fallen for it twice. That being the case, it seemed clear enough that Lake’s mission was to locate Dottie and… and do what?  The Soviet government had already denied all knowledge of her and made it clear that they didn’t want her back.  Dottie didn’t seem to want to go back, most likely because she knew she’d be executed at once and nobody would shed a tear for her.

Either way, Dottie would be no longer be the SSR’s problem. That might be a good thing, except for the part where Soviet agents were operating on US soil apparently at will.  People like Masters, and now Governor Strieber in Nevada with the mob breathing down his neck, already thought the SSR was unnecessary in peacetime, or even actively doing more harm than good.  Capturing Dottie would be a way to demonstrate that they weren’t useless and could correct their mistakes.  But to capture Dottie they might first have to capture Lake.

And then, apparently just because all that wasn’t enough of a bloody headache, there were the numbers.

What else could they be, if not the location of the Valkyrie?  There wasn’t much else up in that part of Canada besides the occasional polar bear. The most obvious explanation seemed to be it was some kind of trick or trap, a distraction, a piece of psychological torture – which it definitely was – but what if?  If the Russians did know where Steve’s body was, had they already retrieved it?  During the war other countries had certainly been working on their own super-soldiers. The Geneva Convention had condemned such experiments as inhumane, but that certainly wasn’t enough to stop some people.

She was going to need a strong cup of tea in the morning if she were going to be good for anything.

How had she been so stupid?  The FBI didn’t employ female agents – posing as one had merely played to Peggy’s sympathies.  And she’d already known that Lake was an actress.  She’d been doing MacBeth when Peggy walked in and Rose had even said she wasn’t terrible.  When Daniel had told her Strieber had called in the FBI she should have asked for the agent’s name then and there, but she’d been too annoyed.  If she’d known to expect Nedrick instead of Nadine she could have arrested the woman at once!

Why had she given Peggy the telephone number for a place she actually was staying?  Had she really expected Peggy to get in touch with her?  Was she supposed to have found the envelope and rung her hours earlier?

Not that it mattered now… by now Lake was surely long-gone.  If she’d heard that they’d found the real Agent Russel, she’d probably left the country. The only way they’d find her now was an incredible stroke of luck, and Peggy knew better than to hope for that.

Two days after searching Lake’s apartment, however, Peggy got one.

She arrived at work, and Agent Sato immediately stood up. “Carter!” he called out.  “The Chief wants to see you in his office.”

Brilliant, Peggy thought… absolutely tremendous. What more could be added to this palaver?  “Thank you, Sato, I’ll be right there.”

She set her purse on her desk and her briefcase beside it, and went and knocked on Daniel’s door.

At this point she would have thought nothing could surprise her anymore, but it was a genuine shock when Daniel answered with a smile on his face.  “Good news, Peg,” he said.

“What, really?” she asked.

“We have a sighting!”  He let her in.  “I got a call from the New York office – a man saw the poster of Miss Lake and recognized it.  He says she was a stewardess on his flight from Chicago yesterday.”

It sounded too good to be true but damned if Peggy wouldn’t take it.  “From Chicago to where?”

“New York City,” Daniel said.

Peggy paused.  “Does that mean Dottie’s in New York?”

“That’s what Thompson thinks.  He’s asked for you.”

That was a second surprise.  “Thompson asked for me?” Peggy said, not sure she’d heard right. Jack Thompson considered Peggy a humiliation waiting to happen… whenever he thought he was onto something big his first reaction was to push her out of the way so she couldn’t get involved. That was how she’d ended up in Los Angeles in the first place and she doubted anybody had ever been happier to sign transfer papers than he.  Now he wanted her help?

“He said to tell you that you’re the expert on these Russian girls.  Also that he’s still sore, and his wife doesn’t think he should be back to work at all yet,” said Daniel.  “What he told me is that we know Miss Underwood considers you a personal rival, and…”

“And he wants to use me as bait,” Peggy finished for him.  Now, that sounded more like Thompson.  “Well, you be sure to tell him he can call upon my expertise anytime. Do you have my ticket?”

“It’s waiting for you at the airport,” Daniel replied.

“I’ll pack a bag and be on my way,” she promised.

Daniel nodded.  “When I came in today, I was thinking it had been a while since we had a date and with all that’s going on it might help you relax.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” Peggy promised, and kissed him quickly before hurrying out.  In the door, however, she hesitated.  “Has anyone heard from Agent Russel?”

“No,” said Daniel.  “We assumed he’d been taken off the case.”

“So did he,” Peggy replied.

It had only been a couple of weeks since Peggy’s formal transfer to the West Coast had gone through… she had certainly not expected she’d be heading back to New York so soon after finally clearing her things out of Howard’s house.  Angie would be happy to see her, and perhaps they’d be able to have lunch together…

But mostly what consumed her thoughts as the propellers roared into takeoff was the question of why Lake would have gone to New York.

Of course, the fact that she’d been on the flight didn’t necessarily mean that was her destination.  She could have been on her way to Canada, or Europe, or just about anywhere except Australia, really.  Unless she thought her quarry were there, there wasn’t much reason for her to stop in New York City.  That was clearly Thompson’s theory, but if he were wrong they might ultimate accomplish nothing.

Was there another reason for her to go to New York? What was in New York that the Soviets might be interested in, besides the SSR itself?

The answer came to her, and she sat up straight. “Fenhoff!”

The man in the seat next to her, who’d been snoozing with a newspaper over his head, twitched.  “Gezundheit,” he muttered before settling down again.

Of course, Peggy thought… Fenhoff was the one who’d hired Dottie under false pretenses.  He was a major part of the reason why the Americans even knew the Russian women were operatives.  He’d done irreparable harm to their national security for the sake of a personal grudge.  It was supposed to be a secret where he was being held, but that didn’t mean it actually was.  He was in Sing Sing, just up the Hudson River from New York City.  If anything, they had even more reason to want him dead than they did Dottie.  They would never have lost control of her if not for him.

She checked her watch.  Still over an hour until their next landing, when she’d be able to telephone Daniel and tell him.

Her layover was brief, but she did just barely have time to find a pay phone and pass her theory on to Daniel.  He promised to pass it on to Thompson and she got back on the plane feeling much less antsy.  Not that she felt any great love for Fenhoff himself, but the government wanted to keep him alive, and if it helped her catch Lake and Dottie, well… maybe Thompson had the right idea.  Bait.

When the plane finally landed in New York, the SSR had a car there waiting for Peggy.  She tossed her suitcase in the back and climbed in – Thompson was in the back seat.  Peggy took the place next to him and said, “Fenhoff.”

“Sousa already called me,” Thompson assured her. “We’re arranging to beef up security around the place but we’re not gonna make a show of it.  We don’t want to tip Lake off.”

Peggy nodded – it was nice to be taken seriously, although she had to wonder whether Daniel had mentioned it was Peggy’s idea. As the car pulled away to drive to her hotel, she couldn’t resist a dig.  “Well, Miss Underwood may not be in town, but it’s lucky I’m still the expert.”

“You can think like they do,” said Thompson, as if agreeing with her.  “That’s what we need right now.”

Thompson had never been shy about the belief that women were basically illogical creatures.  He would never even try to get into one’s head.  “You mean I’m… underhanded and duplicitous?” Peggy asked innocently.

“You’ve fooled all of us more than once,” Thompson pointed out.

He did have a point there.  Peggy decided to consider it a compliment.  “How’s your war wound?” she asked, referring to the time Thompson had been shot in a hotel room.

Thompson grimaced.  “Sally’s still treating me like an invalid.  She thinks this would be a great time for me to get an office job. Something where I don’t get shot at.”

“I hope you told her the SSR would be lost without you,” said Peggy.

He gave her a sideways look.  “Was that sarcasm, Carter?”

“Of course not!”  Peggy changed the subject.  “I assume somebody has already called and checked with Sing Sing?”

“Fenhoff’s still in his cell and very much alive,” Thompson replied.  “We also interviewed some of the other passengers and crew from the flight.”

“And?”

“They all agree that the sketch from Russel’s description looks like the stewardess.  The pilot told me one of the girls who was supposed to be working the flight got a call from the police in her hometown to say her husband had been arrested, so this other lady took her shift.  None of them had ever seen her before but they didn’t care as long as she did the job.”

“None of them will ever see her again, I’m sure,” Peggy said.  “Any sightings of Dottie?”

“None that we know of.”

“I see.”  So unless she really were on her way somewhere else, Fenhoff was the only reason Peggy knew of for Lake to be in New York.  The next few nights were going to be a series of long, tired, boring stake-outs, but it wasn’t as if Peggy would have been sleeping anyway.

Once she was settled into her hotel room, Peggy made a couple more telephone calls.  One was to Angie, to let her know she was in town and that the two of them could get together and catch up once she knew her schedule better.  Then she did her best to catch a few hours of sleep, knowing full well she’d be up the entire night.

This went better than she’d expected – rather than rolling around squirming as she thought of the missed opportunities, she nodded off quickly and napped for a couple of hours, waking up groggy but at least having had the rest.  It must be because she felt as if they were getting somewhere, she thought.  The idea that Lake would be after Fenhoff was only a theory at this point, but it was a good theory, one that allowed her to take some action.  She combed her hair and got dressed in practical trousers with her holster under her jacket, and met the car that would be taking her up to Sing Sing.

“You owe me one, Marge,” said Thompson, as Peggy climbed into another car with him.  “The prison’s only got a few girls working for them, mostly nurses and laundry, but they’ve sent them all home until further notice so this Kay can’t slip in among them.  They didn’t even want you there but I convinced them we needed you.”

“I’ll remember that,” Peggy promised.

“We’ll have men at all the exits,” Thompson went on, “but I’m gonna put you right next to Fenhoff’s cell.  Should be no way she can get that far.”

“Should be.”  But if she did, Peggy thought, Miss Lake was going to find herself with quite a bit of explaining to do.  Hopefully before turning her over to the men, Peggy could get an opportunity to ask about those bloody numbers.

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (5)

AO3: here

Part 1 2 3 4

Solitary Learning

The first thing on Bakugou’s agenda should be to find out if Kirishima even liked guys. And since he didn’t have an agenda, he wouldn’t bother to find out. Even if did catch some stupid, warm, fuzzy, cozy feelings, that didn’t mean he would indulge them. They were only in the way, in his way, to become the number one hero. And he didn’t need any more path blockers.

And even if he thought about indulging them - which he didn’t, never, not even for a split second - that wouldn’t mean it led him to anything. Because the one thing no one could guarantee was if Kirishima even liked guys like that.

Bakugou had been friends with Kirishima since the sports festival, when that stupid, optimistic, sunshine-smile idiot insisted on forming a team with him, and Kirishima never said anything about liking anyone. Maybe he, like Bakugou himself, was determined to not get sidetracked by something as trivial as feelings. Or maybe, none of the girls were interesting to him. Or maybe, even if he was into guys, he was into another type of guys.

The possibilities were near endless. Bakugou decided not to dwell on it. 

So, he did the logical thing and avoided Kirishima at all costs. Not because he didn’t know how to deal with his feelings (he didn’t, but that wasn’t the point), but because every time he saw Kirishima, the idiot was trying to get him to talk about what bothers him. And that was the one thing Bakugou was currently trying to forget. 

He wasn’t even really avoiding Kirishima, he was just avoiding being alone with Kirishima, because as soon as at least one other friend of theirs was present, Kirishima suddenly didn’t have an urge to talk about feelings anymore. So Bakugou had been more social in the past week, than he ever had been in his life. 

Unfortunately, it led him to where he was now. Which was the common room, on a Friday night, sitting around the TV with what Kaminari had called the Bakusquad. He immediately took the name back, when Bakugou glared daggers at him, but the others had heard, so the damage was done. Also, since when was Jirou a part of their squad? (Bakugou would deny to his dying day, that there was a ‘squad’). 

Even worse, Mina had picked out the movie, because apparently it was her turn - and he couldn’t help but silently agree with Kaminari and Sero that there never had been ‘turns’ - so they were stuck watching some romance movie. Which proved that life was just a joke at his expense, really. Also, Mina ignored most of the movie in favor of making ‘girls talk’ (read: talking about boys) with Jirou, which didn’t even really work because Jirou was a lesbian. 

The only thing keeping Bakugou from running away was the certainty that Kirishima would be on his heels. And then, he’d have to talk.

“If Aizawa were our age, I’d go for it”, Mina said, completely unprompted to an entirely disinterested Jirou and Bakugou was about to tell her how much he doesn’t care, but Kirishima was faster. Bakugou almost suffered a heart attack.

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a whole lot of information Bakugou had to unpack. So much information, in fact, that he completely forgot to snap at Mina for starting that conversation. Me too? What did he mean Me too? Did he find a guy objectively attractive? Would he have phrased it like that, if it were objective? Who even found Aizawa of all people attractive?

He felt his head swimming, the gears turning and his thoughts going into overdrive. No matter how you looked at it, Kirishima just admitted to liking guys. He just turned Bakugou’s entire assessment about his feelings not mattering on its head by saying three simple words. Yeah, me too never felt like such a slap to his face. He loathed how easy it was to catch him off-guard these days. 

“Dude what?”, Kaminari exclaimed, sounding like he was caught off guard, too. To be fair, he probably was. Bakugou certainly wasn’t expecting any of them to come out of the closet that night and neither were the others, if their shocked expressions and silent stares at Kirishima were anything to go by.

“Yeah”, Kirishima said, raising one hand to the back of his head and started rubbing, a gesture Bakugou knew meant he was nervous, “I always liked guys. I was a bit nervous to tell you, but since Midoriya and Todoroki came out and all of you took it so well, I guess it doesn’t matter. So yeah, I’m gay.”

“Congrats”, Jirou said, without a moment's hesitation and then raised her glass as if she wanted to toast. That broke the ice quite well, as both Mina and Kaminari also quickly assured Kirishima that being gay changed nothing but Mina’s plans of shipping. Which wasn’t anything of value.

“Great bro, just don’t hit on me”, Sero joked, obviously surprised and at a loss for words. Not as much as Bakugou tho.

“He’s gay, not desperate”, Jirou shot back immediately, before Kirishima even had the chance to open his mouth. If Bakugou were in a better state of mind, he would have officially accepted her as part of his non-existent squad, just for that comment. But he wasn’t.  

Because Kirishima was gay. He liked guys. Suddenly what could happen if Bakugou revealed his feelings wasn’t so hypothetical anymore. He could stand a chance at having something real with Kirishima. Something that would feel warm, and safe and welcoming, if he were to believe Todoroki. He could hold hands, and kiss Kirishima. They could share a bed, so Kirishima would be the last one he saw at night and the first one he saw in the morning. Scary thought.

Scary, because Bakugou could feel it growing on him. Like some tumor he never asked for, and that his body mistook for something pleasant instead of something to cut off. Extra dead weight, that could get very dangerous, very quickly. He needed to get rid of it. Get rid of it soon. 

Before it became his undoing.

“Bakugou?” Kaminari called from his side, but it sounded like a question. Only then did Bakugou realize that he spaced out, and he was the only one who hasn’t yet said anything about Kirishima’s recent reveal. Because he was too busy thinking about it, which none of the idiots was allowed to find out. 

“Yeah, congrats”, he mumbled absentmindedly, trying to figure out the fastest way to get out of this situation. He didn’t trust himself staying there any longer than needed. “Gotta go, this whole thing is stupid.”

Definitely not the smartest thing he could have said, not by a landslide. He saw hurt flicker across Kirishima’s eyes for barely a second and he felt himself internally cringing, at his absolute inability to choose words wisely. He stopped himself from physically cringing and hoped he hadn’t done irreparable damage.

“Yeah, this kind of movie isn't your thing”, Kirishima said distractedly and Bakugou quickly agreed if only to save face. Better blame the movie than let them think he was rushing away because he was uncomfortable with gay people. Or worse, let them find out what really was so uncomfortable about Kirishima’s specific coming out. 

So he walked away, after Kirishima offered him an out. And if he walked a bit faster than usual, that was no one’s business.

__________________

“That was weird”, Kaminari commented after Bakugou’s too swift retreat. Kirishima brushed him off, not wanting to talk about it. He never stood a chance anyway, so it shouldn’t matter what Bakugou thought of him being gay. He purposefully ignored the look Jirou was sending him, in favor of concentrating on the movie. Even though it was a bad movie. 

“Yeah”, Jirou agreed loudly, possibly to force a reaction out of Kirishima, “I thought we got rid of the last homophobe when Mineta was expelled.” Kirishima knew for a fact that Jirou prolonged her coming out until after Mineta was gone. He couldn’t help being relieved himself.

“He isn’t homophobic. He probably just needs time to process”, he heard himself defending Bakugou, though his heart wasn’t in it. Maybe that was his actual problem with spending time with Midoriya and Todoroki. Maybe Bakugou knew about Midoriya’s preferred gender long before any of them did, and that was his reason for his violent behaviour.

Kirishima hated the thought, but it was a possibility. 

“Process what? There isn’t anything to process. He’s making a big deal out of nothing”, Jirou protested immediately and Mina agreed with her via a firm nod. Kirishima didn’t know how long he could still defend Bakugou. He wasn’t even sure there was something to defend anymore. 

“Cut him some slack! His best friend coming out so unexpectedly might have caught him off guard. We all know how much he hates that”, Kaminari joined in and Jirou grumbled in disgruntled agreement. Normal conversation rules barely applied to Bakugou, even under normal circumstances. 

Still, when the ruckus calmed down somewhat and Kirishima was alone with his thoughts again - movie fading into a background noise no matter how much he tried to concentrate on it - he couldn’t help but think. What if he really ruined his friendship with Bakugou by coming out? What if Bakugou did hate the thought of him with another guy?

He shot Bakugou a text before he could think better of it. He really wished he would have thought about it before. 

hey i hope my confession hasn’t changed anything  you know, you’re not disgusted or anything

He wanted to hit himself. How stupid could he possibly be? Who sent that kind of text to someone who just fled the scene? An idiot, only an idiot could do something like that. Kirishima put the phone face-down under his thigh on the couch and deliberately ignored it, even when it vibrated two times. No one even said it was Bakugou’s answer, but Kirishima wouldn’t look at it. 

Because if Bakugou confirmed that, yes, in fact he was disgusted by Kirishima, he wouldn’t know what he’d do. Probably break down right there, on a couch in the middle of the common room, surrounded by his friends. He refused to stoop that low. 

So, after the movie was over, he made a show of not hurrying to his room. Instead he helped clear away their snacks, cleaned the dishes they were served in and even listened to Kaminari’s dumb take on the ending. Only after all this did he excuse himself, to make his way upstairs. He tip-toed past Bakugou’s room, to not upset him any further, should his response actually be negative.

In his room, he took his time changing into his pyjamas and sorting his clothes of the day into the dirty clothes pile or onto the chair, if they were good for one more day. Then, he decided, he would get out his homework for the next week and sort it into a pile in a way that the most urgent ones were the first ones he would grab the next morning. He intentionally ignored his sweaty palms and his steadily louder beating heart throughout it all. 

Only when there was nothing else to do - and he double-checked that there was nothing else he could possibly do - did he get his phone from his nightstand. He saw his hands shaking more than he felt them and in any other situation, he would have laughed. Who got this worked up over a text? But currently he felt more like throwing up than laughing, so he didn’t. 

Of course not. Do I look like Mineta to you Shitty Hair? It was unexpected is all

Kirishima couldn’t help the light feeling washing over him. Like a weight dropping off his shoulders. He did actually laugh a little at that. So what if he still didn’t stand a chance with Bakugou? At least he wasn’t hated.

__________________

Bakugou was looking over the city, which was far below him at this point. He took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and closed his eyes for a second to bask in the early spring sun. He heard the ground scrunch beneath his feet with every little movement he made. What a satisfying sound. It was barely lunch, but he was already near the top and it made a sense of accomplishment wash over him. 

Mountain climbing has always been his best stress relief. 

Even now, it proved worthy of the time he spent arguing with All Might about a last minute permission slip to go out that morning. All Might was just too curious for his own good. But Bakugou got his permission and he’d wasted no time in getting out of the school and onto the first bus driving in the right direction. 

He missed mountain climbing. There was no better way to clear your head and get your shit in order than climbing the highest mountain in vicinity and worrying about nothing but arriving on the top. The top, where he could scream about his problems from the top of his lungs and no one would hear him. Finally a good way to get rid of his pent-up aggression. Reaching the top was also like a mini-training session, which was never a bad thing. 

It was also the perfect way to think about stuff, without being interrupted. ‘Stuff’ was of course referring to his feelings for Kirishima. Feelings, which might just amount to anything, now that Bakugou knew Kirishima liked guys. He tried not to linger on that for too long. Even if Kirishima liked guys, and Bakugou did fit his description of a manly guy, there was still a problem.

He wasn’t the kind of guy you wanted to introduce to your parents. He was loud and explosive - both figuratively and literally. He had a too thin patience and virtually no people skills. Those were the reasons he had failed his provisional licence exam, the first time around. All in all, Bakugou wasn’t the kind of guy someone would proudly call their boyfriend. Or anything beyond that, really. He wasn’t even sure people proudly called him a friend.

He never cared before, he shouldn’t care now. Except he did. And he didn’t. Because thinking about whether or not Kirishima would call him his boyfriend, proudly or not, was obsolete anyways. He would never even let it get that far. 

If Kirishima actually returned his feelings - and that was the unlikely version - he still wouldn’t do anything, because there wasn’t a point in doing anything. If it went well and they started dating, Kirishima would stop at Bakugou’s boundaries for physical touch. Or at his absolute inability to voice anything but anger in the feelings departement. Or at the fact that apparently it takes two business weeks for Bakugou to figure out what the weird feeling in his chest is. Eventually, Bakugou’s shortcomings would be the death of any potential relationship he could have with Kirishima.

On the other hand, if his feelings weren’t returned - which was more likely, considering his previous reasons not to date him - the only thing he would accomplish by confessing would be absolutely wrecking one of the best friendships he’s had in years. He wasn’t about to do that. So it was doing nothing and waiting out his feelings. They couldn’t last forever, could they?

Bakugou hated the waiting out tactic. He wasn’t patient enough for it, not by a mile. But Aizawa always told him to work on his weaknesses and he was nothing, if not a good student. Not necessarily in the traditional sense, but still. He was third place in the mid-term exams and always high-ranking - if not first - in the hero exams. Which he wouldn’t be, if he couldn’t apply criticism to his training routine. He would just view this as a big training exercise. He could do that. 

When he finally reached the top, he let his back-pack fall to the ground. He took a second to gather his thoughts and refocus on the main reason he went there. Screaming out his anger and frustration until nothing was left. Then he walked to the edge slowly, looking over what lay beneath him once again. 

It wasn’t a very big mountain, so he could still see the city and everything else fairly well. Still, he was sure no one would hear him, because he was alone and sound didn’t travel that well into the city. Even if it did, U.A. lay at the completely opposite side that he was currently facing. Bakugou took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts and then screamed out what had been plaguing him for two weeks:

“Stupid fucking hair, stupid fucking smile! Stupid Shitty Hair worrying about me, like a damn saint. IDIOT always staring at me and being so fucking considerate and saying stuff so flirtingly. I FUCKING HATE LIKING MY BEST FRIEND!”

He felt lighter somehow. He let himself fall flat on his back after he was done, staring up at the sky like he hadn’t in a while. The position of the sun let him assume it was around lunch time and a quick glance at his phone confirmed that. It also showed him a missed call from Kirishima, undoubtedly to ask if he felt alright. 

He got up, screamed some more unintelligible things at the void and ignored the call. Then, he went to his backpack and took out the lunch he made himself. 

__________________

Kirishima didn’t even try to resist the urge to check his phone again. He had taken the entire night to work up the courage to finally confront Bakugou about all of his weird behaviour, only for his plans to be blown off again. When he had eventually encouraged himself enough to go knock at Bakugou’s door that morning, determined not to leave until he got his answers, he got nothing instead. 

Nothing but freezing feet, because he stood in front of that door for a while, thinking that Bakugou willingly ignored him. If Midoriya hadn’t come by to tell him that Bakugou got permission from All Might to go out, he’d probably still stand there. Like the idiot he was.

So, he tried calling and reached deaf ears. He only called once to not appear too desperate. He didn’t want Bakugou to think he was dependent on him or something along those lines. He figured Bakugou would call back, eventually, at least to yell at him to not annoy him, when he deliberately wanted to spend time on his own. He got nothing instead. 

No call, no text, no sign that Bakugou still wanted something to do with him. 

“You’re looking awfully down”, Kaminari said, sliding in the chair next to him, propping his head on one hand and his hand on the table to look at him, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing big”, Kirishima sighed, truthfully, because Bakugou wasn’t ignoring him for the first time. It wasn’t even really a rare occurrence. Bakugou wasn’t a people-person, not by a long shot, he usually prefered his quiet and spending time away from people. He actually sought out alone-time, like Kirishima sought out time to spend with other people. They were polar opposites in that regard.

Normally, it didn’t bother Kirishima. He found it weird at first, but Todoroki - who shared Bakugou’s fondness of alone-time - tried to explain once that it was like the battery of a phone. His ability to be around people charged when he was alone and it depleted when he spent time with people. Once it was fully depleted it would need to charge again. Kirishima never got confirmation, but he always assumed it worked similarly for Bakugou. But usually, Bakugou wasn’t mad at him, when he kept away.

“Bakugou’s gone out without telling anybody”, Kaminari guessed, even though it wasn’t phrased as a question and Kirishima could only nod in response. Kaminari raised one of his eyebrows at him, but whatever he wanted to say was rudely interrupted by Jirou, who yelled over the back of the couch. 

“Fuck him!” She was immediately chided by Iida for her choice of words, but Mina enthusiastically agreed with her anyway. Iida tried to make a compromise - they could be mad at Bakugou, but they should still use appropriate language - and Yaoyorozu backed him. Jirou agreed that her choice of words was harsh after that - Kaminari waggled his eyebrows at Kirishima and he couldn’t help but snicker, because of course Jirou would agree with Yaoyorozu. Still, Mina was onto him now.   

“Is it about Bakugou?”, she inquired in a sickly-sweet voice, that made Kaminari fake-gag. He got a slap on the back of his head for that, at which Jirou chuckled in the background. Good to know she was still paying attention. As was probably everyone else in the common room, Kirishima was aware. This could end bad. 

“Not really, I just wanted to know whether he was okay. But he seems to be”, ignoring me was the way this sentence would end, if he were realistic and honest, “distracted.” Which wasn’t a lie, not really, because if Bakugou wanted to ignore him, he would distract himself. He still felt slightly bad about saying it like that. 

“Is there something we can do about that?”, Mina asked, now sounding like she honestly wanted to help him. That was worse, way worse, because Kirishima wasn’t even a hundred percent honest with her. 

“Fuck him?”, Kaminari suggested playfully, big idiotic-smile across his face, waggling his eyebrows first at Kirishima, suggestively and then at Jirou mockingly. Kirishima tried not to choke on his spit, while trying to come up with a good comeback. Jirou flipped him the bird behind Yaoyorozu’s head. Iida saw it anyway and turned it into a completely new lecture. A very loud lecture. At least the others couldn’t overhear them easily anymore.

“I was thinking about comfort ice-cream!”, Mina declared and Kirishima had never been happier about a change of topics before, “With strawberries and chocolate sauce.”

With that she marched right into the kitchen, closely followed by Kaminari, who wouldn’t say no to ice-cream, even if he were laying on his deathbed. Kirishima had half the mind to go with them, but he trusted Mina with making big ice-cream bowls for all of them. Instead he checked his phone again. He didn’t count how often he’d been doing it, ever since he first called, but the result remained the same. No new messages from Bakugou.

Mina and Kaminari came back a few minutes later with delicious looking ice-cream bowls in hand and deep in a discussion about whether the Avengers or the Justice League would win a fight. Kirishima took the ice-cream gratefully and joined effortlessly into the discussion, making a case for Tony Stark’s superior intellect, which Kaminari immediately countered (“Superman is literally ‘Out of this World’, no way some brain cells counter that.”). The discussion went on for longer than it had any right to, but it served its purpose. While arguing passionately in favor of Iron Man, he forgot to check his phone.  

__________________

In hindsight, ignoring the call might have not been the best thing he could have done. Bakugou knew this, the moment he stepped through the front door, because Jirou - who was braiding Yaoyorozu’s hair on the common room couch, for some reason - immediately regarded him with a stink eye. So, she still thought he was homophobic, which was great. (Not really.)

Yaoyorozu, at least, was more civil and instead of sending him weird looks, that he couldn’t properly interpret anyways, she just informed him that Kirishima had been looking for him. Something Bakugou already knew, by virtue of the still unanswered call his phone showed him everytime he checked the time that day. But he didn’t feel like arguing, so he just went past them, to the elevator to get to his room. 

Bakugou felt all of his irritation - that he spent the majority of the day working off - rushing back, when the elevator doors opened and he came face to face with Kirishima. Someone must have been playing a joke at his expense. Kirishima, for his part, looked as surprised as Bakugou was about their encounter, so at least he hadn’t been stalking him. It was only a small consolation. 

As soon as Bakugou side-stepped to let Kirishima out, the other shook his head firmly and Bakugou knew, there was no way out of this. Kirishima finally had him cornered. He played briefly with the thought of getting off at another level and acting like he wanted something from one of their classmates, but he knew it was futile. The only two he was certain weren’t in the common room right that moment were Deku and Todoroki. He certainly wasn’t about to interrupt Deku and Todoroki. 

“I think we should talk”, Kirishima said, seriously, after Bakugou had stepped in and the elevator doors had closed. Smart, he knew very well Bakugou wouldn’t have taken the elevator with him, if he had said so before. It really added to feeling trapped, too. He wouldn’t tell Kirishima that.

“You think?”, Bakugou questioned, deciding that since avoidance was out of question - Kirishima smartly made sure of that - he would power through instead. How long could he play dumb, before Kirishima became frustrated with him? He was willing to find out. 

“Yes, I think”, Kirishima replied firmly, straightening his back, while he was watching the numbers tick by. They were almost at their level, Bakugou knew, because he too watched the numbers, to avoid having to look at Kirishima for just a moment longer. It was futile, he knew, eventually they would arrive and then he’d have to justify himself, for all of his weird behaviour. He tried not to think about it too much.

When they arrived too soon, Kirishima made sure Bakugou got out of the elevator first and then he was hot on his heels, until Bakugou opened his door and let Kirishima in. They fell back into their old pattern, Bakugou sitting on his back and Kirishima in his desk chair, idly swinging himself from side to side with one foot. Bakugou felt the deja-vu and he’d bask in it, except last time they were in his room like that, it didn’t end well.

He doubted it would work out better this time. 

Kirishima hummed, looking around Bakugou’s room, over the All Might poster that had been hanging on his walls since the day he moved in. He remembered how Kirishima had teased him for them, briefly, before admitting to having a secret Crimson Riot poster in his dorm, when Bakugou became irritated with him. He briefly wondered if Kirishima remembered that day, too, whenever he looked at Bakugou’s posters. It was an easier time. 

“You know”, Kirishima said, slowly and quietly, like he didn’t want to disturb their current peace, “I always thought it was cool that you strived so high. Wanting to be like All Might is something, really. You remember how embarrassed you’d been when I first saw that?” He pointed at the very same poster Bakugou had been thinking about, a vague smile on his lips, like it wasn’t sure it belonged there. 

“You almost raised hell”, Kirishima continued, without offering Bakugou a chance to answer, “But when I told you, your secret was safe with me, you trusted me. Just like when I offered you my hand to escape Kamino or when I checked your back for injuries after rough training sessions. You’ve always trusted me.”

He lowered his head, silence heavy in the air and Bakugou was convinced there was something else. He could feel it lingering in the air between them, he saw it in the way his chair speed up, because Kirishima put more pressure on the leg that was swinging him. Something big was coming and it agitated Kirishima. It agitated Bakugou, too, but he wouldn’t show it. He refused. 

“Why don’t you trust me anymore?”, Kirishima breathed, barely loud enough for Bakugou to hear, in a terrible broken voice, that was nothing like Kirishima. That wasn’t the loud, happy, sunshine-smile guy he fell in love with. That was after the sports festival Kirishima, who feared his quirk wasn’t flashy enough and that he wasn’t good enough. That wasn’t the unwavering, unbreakable best friend that Bakugou respected. And it was his fault.

“I do trust you”, he argued, ignoring his pride, while admitting what he’d never thought he needed to admit. But he’d be damned if Kirishima was falling apart because of him. 

“No, you don’t”, Kirishima shot back, a sniffing sound accompanying his statement, but he still didn’t look at Bakugou. 

“Yes, I do”, he replied firmly, not knowing what else to say. Not, without giving too much away.

“If you did”, Kirishima declared, head snapping up and Bakugou could see his red-rimmed eyes, “You would tell me what’s bothering you!”

“Nothing bothers me”, he snapped, not even regretting his tone, when Kirishima’s expression visibly hardened, “I’m just fine!”

“I know for a fact that you’re not ‘fine’”, Kirishima argued, heavy tone in his voice but refusing to budge. Bakugou hated how hard-headed his best friend could be sometimes. And people thought Bakugou was the stubborn one out of the two. Kirishima was just as bad. 

“You know ‘for a fact’”, Bakugou mocked, seeing Kirishima deflate at his statement, but still not stopping. He wasn’t even sure he could go back anymore. 

Kirishima sagged into himself again, the hardened look on his face vanished as fast as it had appeared and he just looked tired. In a way that let Bakugou know he had been thinking about something too heavily for too long. Bakugou would have wondered if he had that same look on his face, if he was any more rational. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. 

“You know shit about me!”, he declared, hoping to solve this matter once and for all, but Kirishima had other plans. Which obviously included a change of tactics.

"Do you ever want to talk about your feelings, Bakugou?", Kirishima inquired gently, as if he feared scaring Bakugou away. Bakugou couldn’t help but feel belittled. Him, being scared away by some words. Kirishima must have been delusional. (There was a voice inside his head, that was, in fact, scared by the sudden change of topics, but his pride and his anger roared louder.)

"FUCK NO!" 

“Well, I think you should”, Kirishima said, not budging from his position and Bakugou noted duly, that he stopped swinging some time ago. He paid it no mind. Instead he tried to argue again, but Kirishima was faster. 

“You fleeing from the mall, the talk with Todoroki, your almost clash with Monoma and then fleeing again when I came out yesterday”, Kirishima listed, effortlessly and Bakugou started to feel like Kirishima had thought this conversation out before, “They are all related, aren’t they?”

“And if they were”, Bakugou said even though he felt more like he was admitting something, because he really didn’t see a way out, “it still wouldn’t be your business.” 

“You’re right. Technically it’s not”, Kirishima agreed easily, voice still so damn quiet and heavy with something unspoken, that Bakugou just couldn’t point out. It irritated him almost as much as the rest of the conversation did. “But I feel like it’s related to me.”

That was the most efficient thing to shut Bakugou up in a while. Even his brain provided no more words or thoughts for him, it was just empty. A state of mind, which he failed to achieve for days brought forth by one sentence from Kirishima. He’d laugh at the irony, but he wasn’t sure he had that capacity right now. He wasn’t sure he had any capacity for anything. 

“What makes you think that?”, he mumbled, still feeling like he was out of his body and out of the conversation.

“You’re looking at me like”, Kirishima hesitated, probably to look for the right word and Bakugou realised somewhere in the corner of his mind that this might be the end. He felt strangely calm for that. “Like you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

The pleading tone in Kirishima’s voice almost broke his heart, he felt disgusted with himself for letting it get that far. All because of some stupid feelings that ultimately wouldn’t even amount to anything.

“Nothing has changed!”, he argued, weakly, his brain still rebooting and he really hoped it wouldn’t take much longer. He didn’t know how much more of this conversation he could get through on auto-pilot. He didn’t even know how dependable his auto-pilot was. 

“Yes it has, and you know it.”

"Well, you STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE! maybe I don't wanna be your damn friend!", he exploded, because obviously his brain couldn’t reboot fast enough and his anger decided to take over. Kirishima looked like Bakugou had actually physically hit him. Was there a worse way to phrase that particular sentiment? Bakugou highly doubted it. 

Slowly, carefully, as if he feared upsetting Bakugou anymore, Kirishima cradled his hand against his chest, eyes still blown wide and his mouth stood open, without anything coming out. Bakugou didn’t even have to concentrate to see the tears forming in Kirishima’s eyes. He distantly felt pressure burning behind his own as well.

“You don’t mean that”, Kirishima whispered, but it sounded like a plea and Bakugou wished he could take it back, but his brain was still out of order and his anger still reigned. 

“Yes, I meant that”, he barked back, voice more aggressive than he ever remembered it being, despite feeling numb. He saw a few tears slip down Kirishima’s cheeks and for the first time since his brain went out, he heard something other than his anger giving orders in his head. He wanted, so desperately, to wipe away that tear and hold Kirishima close.

“Well”, Kirishima breathed, tonelessly, before Bakugou had properly finished his last thought, “That’s an answer.”

He didn’t run. He got up slowly, moved past Bakugou’s furniture and to his door with care, but purpose and didn’t say another word, didn’t even look at him, until he was about to close the door. While standing in his doorway, Kirishima gave him one last look, so devoid of emotion apart from the tear trays on his cheeks, that Bakugou felt like crying. Maybe he was, he wasn’t sure. Kirishima closed the door slowly, it only made a low sound, when it fell shut, but it still echoed loudly and Bakugou’s mind. 

A few minutes later, when his brain had finally started working again, the only thought it provided for him was: Well, you might as well have told him. Now it’s all shit anyways.

[reiven2017]

From ridicule.

Chapter 3.

Rachel heaved a sigh as fatigue crept up on her again. She never considered herself an ACE in French, but he gave in to her and she even had an excellent in this subject. Until this moment. Roth sat alone in the empty library of the Academy, fiercely wrestling with a French essay, cursing herself once again for mispronouncing a sign or an accent. Damn that French guy. Rachel closed her eyes wearily, putting down her books and leaning on her hands in shock. It was late in the evening and she had lost count of how long she had been here. A thin ribbon of annoyance was already creeping up her throat, and she let out a startled sigh. She was tired again, the walls of the library were crushing her, and the oppressive silence was no better, and for a moment she thought she was delirious. She wasn't supposed to think about things that seemed delusional and didn't make sense to anyone. She was just a stupid girl. Rachel shook her head, rolling her eyes in exasperation as unnecessary thoughts began to creep into her head one by one, making this evening even more annoying and unbearable. She shouldn't have thought about him. It's only been 5 hours since their first "meeting"...not that it bothered her, but the itchy feeling in her chest prickled uncomfortably, making her turn back again and again to the boy with the dark skin and those inviting eyes ...

But...He's just a normal boy. He's just an ordinary person. Yes. It has nothing supernatural or magical about it. Right? He just pushed her, even though he accidentally bumped into her and they didn't say ten words to each other, so why did HIS name stick in her head? Why did her cheeks turn so treacherously red and her heart sink at the mere sight of those predatory emerald eyes? She didn't understand herself, and she didn't understand why her body responded so responsively to his warmth. She could and did control her emotions while remaining calm. But in that incident, near the office with Damian, all her calmness went to the pussy and she stood like a fool with her hands on the floor, redder and aleeya like a first-grader. Was she ill? Or maybe it's just her mind playing tricks. Were these normal feelings? When in one moment, literally the entire universe exploded into a million bright stars in her eyes and the images in her head blurred, when only his silhouette was visible in this light and when she was unable to look away from him? She was sick and she was sure it was bad. Goosebumps ran over her skin and her Scarecrow firmly stated that this is bad. Damian Wayne was a danger. Solid danger demolishing everything in its path and invisible obstacles. She heard the girls whisper breathlessly about his "bad guy" reputation and the big cough behind his back, and how they dreamily imagined themselves in his girlfriend's shoes, giggling happily. She had heard from Gar about his expulsion from the previous school. And from other schools, too. Rachel Roth was a good girl in every sense of the word. Like a good girl, she should have stayed away from him, not looked in his direction, and erased his name from her memory. From her mother's sad experience, she knew what it was like to get involved with bad guys and had no desire to repeat her story. Rachel Roth lifted her head, pulled her textbook closer, and puffed hard. She pushed the image of him out of her mind, sealing it forever in the back of her mind like a bad dream. Rachel Roth was a good girl, and Damian Wayne was a bad guy. And she was still going to write a damn paper.

Rachel gave her cousin a quiet smile, glancing across the room and giving her a thumbs-up. In response, Layla sent her a haggard look and a frowning smile as she let out a weak moan at the elated Mouth. Rachel giggled and turned to the Board, leaving her cousin to her mourning. This was the first class of the week in literature, and her love for this subject was not selfish, so Leila took a back seat. There was no annoying green spot, and Rachel sat alone at her Desk in complete silence for once. Bliss. She sighed with satisfaction when the bell rang and the old teacher, Miss Smithers, came into the classroom with her usual limp on one leg. Miss Smithers was an elderly woman, with a high gray hairdo and always in a clean, pressed pink suit. She was meticulous as hell, but she was also a soft and fun woman. Rachel always liked her bright pink suit. Or when she put in her hair, kakoenibud jewelry and podderzhala the Empress. Miss Smithers was one of her favorite teachers for her kind nature and Rachel was also one of her favorite students. As soon as jenna entered the classroom, she looked at everyone sternly, then smiled cheerfully and began her story in her only French accent. She liked to say a little French, which always seemed funny to Rachel when there was a knock at the office door and the headmaster came stumbling up to Miss Smithers. They were whispering about something and after a minute of meetings, Mister ........he turned to the class and solemnly adjusted his tie.

- "Dear students, I want to introduce you, your new classmate Damian Wayne." - a wave of whispers passed through the class, and then the voices faded as, slowly, like a hunter inspecting his prey, he entered. Fuck. Rachel felt like she was falling and she wasn't sure if she was on the ground anymore. Her blush returned as she gazed shamelessly at his figure. Damn it, he was a fucking model! No, of course they'd met before, but then she wouldn't even have had the courage to look at him. Now she was blushing and Alea thought it was a good thing, or her own feet would fail her. The gray school jacket clung to his broad, elaborately sculpted shoulders, and he was wearing it over a black shirt that wasn't buttoned with the first two buttons. His dark skin was not just beautiful, but perfect, kissed by the sun and shrouded by God. His plump lips curved beautifully, and his cheekbones courageously emphasized his appearance, adding even more charisma to the image. There was a noticeable scar above his left eyebrow, and now his charisma was mixed with something dangerous. She gripped the edge of her skirt sharply, hoping to stay on this earth with a clear mind and a firm memory. It couldn't be true. It doesn't have to be true. She had just made up her mind the night before to forget his name like a bad dream, and lo! Here it is! She tried to calm her breathing, counting to ten and ignoring everything. She doesn't need to worry. He probably didn't even remember her name? Isn't it? Of course, why would he remember her? As soon as she calmed herself by letting go of the irreparably ruined skirt and finally looked up, she was met by emerald eyes that were unabashedly scanning her figure. Oh, she wasn't sure she wouldn't be dead by the end of the day.

She was paralyzed again, and as for the first time, she stared at him, frozen, unable to move or tear herself away. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her blush deepened when Damian gave her a predatory wink, ignoring everyone else. Fuck. No, she was definitely dead. He continued to stare at her, oblivious to the sidelong glances and the words the headmaster said to IMU, focusing only on her. And of course, the only thing she had the brain for, if not the cynical brain, was to quickly look down at the floor, again clutching her hands to her school skirt and pretend to Shine, Rachel! Just wonderful! She was grateful for the opportunity, since all her classmates were busy with Wayne and the rumors about him, and her mood changes were not unnoticed by anyone. There were ragged voices behind her, and a curious gaze was boring into her back. Leila, she won't leave her alone. The voices faded and Rachel didn't seem to notice, too stunned by what was happening. Someone next to her pushed back a chair and someone's things fell on the Desk next to her.

His voice, dangerous and hoarse, filled her entire body from the tips of her fingers to the top of her head, and she clenched her knees together convulsively. She took a deep breath and looked up at him timidly.

- "Hello". she answered, hoping he wouldn't notice the tremor in her voice. Damian tilted his head slightly to the side, a faint smirk playing on his lips, and his eyes flickered lasciviously toward her lips. Rachel's stomach clenched like a coiled spring, her mouth went dry, and she swallowed involuntarily.

"I didn't expect to see you here. Before she could think, the words came out of her mouth and She bit her lip in confusion. Damian's lips curved in a wry smile and he just as unceremoniously continued to stare at her, sitting half-sideways. Rachel turned away from him, hiding her confused gaze in her book, and tried to concentrate on what Miss Smithers was saying. He was just an ordinary boy. She shouldn't react to him like that. "And so, Rachel Roth."Just Rachel," she said quickly, without looking up. Just don't look at him. Just don't look at him. Just don't look at him. She knew that if she met those emerald eyes again, all the words would just lose their meaning, and she would look like a weak-willed doll. "So, Rachel, what are you doing tonight?" Rachel drew in a sharp breath, blinking in confusion. Just don't look at him. Just don't look at it. "Forgive. What?" Damian moved a little closer, so that Rachel could feel his hot breath on her skin, and said, " I'm sorry. "I want to invite you to a party." Roth's hand was frozen over the notebook and she stared at it blankly. Her brain was overheated, unable to figure out what to do with it or how to behave under the gaze of those emerald eyes. Just don't look at him. Just don't look at him. Just don't look at him. Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously, and in one sharp, quick movement, he slid two fingers under her chin And turned her face toward him. "I don't like not being looked in the eye. he hissed threateningly, and it could be interpreted as an order that required no reservations and that Rachel didn't have the strength to disobey. She looked at him warily, without any second thought, biting her lip between the rows of snow-white teeth, and was momentarily startled when Demian's eyes flashed with something dark and the pupil in his eyes widened. "I'm still waiting for an answer, Rachel."..I da agrh...don't know."the thoughts in her Golva were tangled up in a huge tangle and all that she managed to put together was a pathetic sentence. Wayne chuckled, and gently, almost imperceptibly, traced the line of her chin before removing his hands from her face and speaking calmly. "I think it is-Yes." Miss Smiter coughed indignantly, drawing attention to herself. "Am I bothering you, young people?" Damian stood up easily, his impenetrable mask falling back into place and a cold aura enveloping him. He picked up his bag from the Desk and walked calmly over to Miss Smithers. "I'm sorry." he said as he left the classroom, just as the bell rang for the end of class.

[inkribbon796]

The Emissaries of Death and War Ch. 2: Not So Different

Summary: After stopping Wil, old enemies get to talk.

Chapters: 1, 2

After a little bit of a chase and a struggle, Dark, Techno, and Philza were able to stop Wil. Techno being the one to physically knock down and keep a hold on the madman.

Dark sent Wil to the Void and held him there until he calmed down. It took a while but the next time Wil saw Techno he seemed to be fine.

Wilford was being brought back in while Techno was conducting something of a report on the fight.

“Not too bad, you raised a couple half decent fighters, well except for the new one,” Techno told Dark. “Or, I assume he’s your newest, the other two are better fighters, so . . .”

As Techno trailed off, Bim felt his face heat with shame. Yes, he was the youngest, but he was not the newest. He was Dark’s kid!

“Geez, Techno, you didn’t rough them up too much did yah[1]?” Philza cackled. “Hardly fair. We should’a gone ta find Tommy. That would have been more fair, man.”[2]

“Nah, against these three?” Techno scoffed angrily, “they would have torn through him like wet tissue paper.”

“Come on, mate, he’s not that bad,” Philza tried to defend from the other room.

Philza had paused to look at the large portrait in the hall, and smiled before only now starting to catch up with the rest of the group.

Techno took a couple steps so Phil could see his face and fixed him with a baleful glare.

Rolling his eyes, Phil added, “Okay, so he’s a shitehead[3] who’s done some shite[4] things, but he’s not a half bad fighter.”

“Uhh, brat was discorporated for the first time during a fist fight, you do the math,” Techno reminded coldly.

Phil frowned at him, huffing and looked around to see that the Entity was out on the back balcony. So as Wilford and Techno were talking with the three spawnlings, Phil decided he needed a change of company.

“How do you feel about anarchy?” Techno smiled at Wil, as Philza shook one of his wings and then pulled a bottle of Chardonnay out of it.

“What’s that?” Wilford asked with a huge smile on his face.

Techno gave a huge grin that Phil couldn’t help but copy that smile as Techno began to launch into — as Philza called it — his “fuck the government” spiel.

Instead of joining in, Philza walked out on the balcony to smile at Dark with his bottle of Chardonnay in his hands. “Come on, Ent, I’ve got your favorite.”

“I don’t get drunk anymore,” Dark warned, but summoned two glasses for them.

“Shame,” Phil chuckled. “You’re a fun drunk.”

“I have been rather reliably told that I become insufferable and impossible to deal with,” Dark corrected, opening the bottle and pouring out two drinks.

“By who?” Phil took the glass he was offered, swirling his aura in it a bit, Dark copying him before they both took the first sips. “You were a riot after Agra.”

“Exactly,” Dark pointedly didn’t answer the first question. “Besides, I have too much to worry about to get drunk on top of it.”

“Right, right, anyways I thought I saw traces ‘a[5] Phantom’s aura in town, thought he was with you,” Phil began. “What’s he up ta[6] these days?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Dark snarled.

“Ohhh,” Phil took another sip, “it was that bad huh? Sounds like yeh[1] traded up.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dark warned.

“Fair,” Phil allowed. “So what’s the new pact mate like, you two dating? Seems like it, looks all domestic in here.”

“We work together,” Dark answered, “everything else is our business.”

“True, true,” Philza agreed. “I’m just curious, we come inta[7] town and find out you’ve got a new pact mate, some spawnlings, and a body. Wanted to figure out how much had changed.”

Dark didn’t give a real comment to that, sipping on his wine.

“How many you got?” Phil leaned in a bit.

Dark considered for a second if Philza was going to talk to Phantom, then he said, “Six.”

“Oh yeah,” Phil whistled, “I saw the painting.”

“I need to move that thing back into my office, two of Wil’s boys insisted it be on display in the hall,” Dark scoffed. “We don’t even have guests over, I don’t know who they expect to see it.”

“Six is a lot, mate,” Phil reminded. “Sounds like you’ve been up ta[6] some mad fun. How old are they?”

“None of your business,” Dark told him firmly.

“Right,” Phil agreed. “But I gotta ask because I have to answer someone else’s question, it’s not about your spawnlings, it’s about mine.”

“You do have a reputation of picking fights with every lord and vizier in the world, unsurprising,” Dark responded. “How many did you keep?”

“I had two, one is, uh,” Philza paused and downed the rest of his glass before reaching to fill it up again. “He’s dead, and the other is off doing his own thing. An empath and a glitch.”

“Hmm,” Dark hummed as he sipped on his wine.

“Which do you have?” Phil asked.

Dark thought on if he should tell the avian, but figured that anyone who looked at the Lost Ones long enough could probably figure it out on their own. “Two deal makers, a showman, and the other three are all empaths, I’m fairly certain.”

“Are they all yours, or did your friend split some ‘a[5] them off?” Philza asked, if he was surprised or impressed he didn’t show it.

Dark wasn’t going to answer, was about to brush it off, but the Entity felt a deep twinge of pain. It wasn’t bad, but it did hurt, and Dark fought the urge to cough.

Phil looked over Dark’s shoulder and smiled, “Hello, who are you? You one ‘a[5] his lot?”

Grabbing his chest, Dark looked around at his echoes, his red was fine, but his blue one was clutching his chest in obvious pain. But that wasn’t the real problem.

His echo didn’t look like him, he looked like Damien! Dark almost screamed in surprise but after a second or two of shock, his aura shot out and dragged his blue soul back in and the echo of course screamed and tried to fight him out of fear. The outside balcony lights flickered, but eventually everything was still and calm again and Dark told Phil, who was just staring at him, “Ignore him, that is not a spawnling.”

“I didn’t hit yah[1] too hard, did I, mate?” Philza asked in concern. “You splitting?”

“I’m fine,” Dark snapped, and slammed his fists down and her body changed to match her red one, forcing her blue soul deep into the back of their soul.

“That’s a neat trick,” Phil commented, “now I can’t see why you’re in a body if it does that.”

“Yes,” Dark stood up, “now, I think we’ve left the others alone for too long.”

Philza was quiet for a moment before he stood up as well, “Yeah, probably. Don’t know how yours are, but Techno’s usually good ta[6] leave to his own devices. He’s not the one I was always worried about.”

“Really?” Dark commented, her aura holding the door open for Phil.

“Oh yeah, anytime I left my two boys alone they always got into some trouble,” Phil smiled warmly. “Tommy still gets inta[7] trouble.”

“Spawnlings do tend to do that,” Dark agreed and they saw the group sitting in the living room as Wil was telling one of his stories and Techno occasionally cutting in with comments or his own stories.

Dark was able to stay calm and collected during the rest of the visit. Techno did give an eyebrow raise at her changed body but didn’t give any other type of comment. Wil did naturally fawn over her but after their guests left so did the Host, saying his goodbyes and Dark sent him back to the heroes’ base.

It was quite possibly the only time she was happy to see the Host go. As much as Dark cared for the young man, Host tended to be a bit nosy and he always seemed like he knew what was going on.

And Dark didn’t need that right now. She needed to sort out what had been bothering her aura. For weeks she’d been wondering, and now she knew.

There was something wrong with her blue soul! That’s what the problem was! Which explained why she could hide it better when she was using her red one.

Dark had let this go on for too long, and she had to act fast before her blue soul did irreparable damage.

Techno and Philza were halfway out of Egoton, heading out of the city through Brighton, when Illinois caught up with them. He wasn’t really trying to disguise his approach and Philza’s crows warned him the young man was following them before Techno heard him coming.

Techno’s sword came out and the voices began clamor for a new fight. “Round two then?”

“Nah,” Illinois was flipping his lucky coin in the air. “Just wanted to talk without my mom listening in. She tends to get a little antsy when I’m on my own.”

“Illinois right?” Philza smiled.

“Heh,” Techno snickered, “were you born there?”

Illinois took a deep breath, “I was born in Ohio.”

“Missed opportunity, then,” Techno chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s a name,” Illinois defended. “Anyways, I came to ask you two something.”

“Sure,” Techno glanced at Phil.

“I kindly request you leave my brothers and sister out of whatever fight you have with our father,” Illinois told them. “You deal with him, and me, and that’s it.”

“Oh is that how it is?” Techno stared at Illinois with a fire burning in his eyes.

“You two strike me as the type to like a good fight, I’m more powerful, as you saw with my baby brother, besides me and Host they don’t really have a lot of aura worthy of a good fight.”

Techno thought on that for a second, “You know you’re starting to speak more of my language.”

Illinois smiled back, “So let’s leave the little kids out of it.”

“Careful Junior,” Phil warned and watched Illinois’s eye twitch angrily at the nickname. “Yer[8] a kid yourself. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“We have a deal or not?” Illinois redirected the conversation.

Techno hummed, “That depends on how much of an iron-booted tyrant your old man is, but the fact that your brothers don’t seem to be all that beholden to authority is very intriguing.”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” Illinois scoffed. “They don’t have to help run the business.”

The two veteran warriors glanced at each other before Phil chuckled, “We’ll make yeh[1] a counter-deal, mate, your siblings don’t mess with us and we’ll pretend that Ent only has one kid.”

Illinois glared at them but flipped his coin again before stowing it back into his pocket. “I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get.”

“It is, now if you’ll excuse us, we have a train to catch and all,” Phil grinned and they left, Phil’s wings fluttering as he walked and Techno always keeping an eye on him.

When he was sure they were out of the city, Illinois returned to the Manor to talk with Dark, while Techno and Philza got on a train that led from Brighton to Northern Scotland where they were currently hiding out. Phil had paid extra to make sure their trip stayed as quiet and private as possible, in that if he had to he bought extra tickets.

The Blood God did have to make his face look a touch more human instead of the mask he always wore so they weren’t given much trouble.

Techno was settling down for a long nap, trying to calm the voices on his head enough to relax, and only sleep could grant that calm silence to him.

Besides them, the car they were in had a couple other people but their little four-seat section was empty apart from them.

Until someone came over to sit down.

Initially, Phil wanted to chew the guy out but he saw the green hoodie and the familiar face, along with the white smiley face mask in his hands. So instead he just groaned and poked his blood brother in the arm, “Tech.”

“Hnghmmm,” Techno groaned, still awake enough for Phil to rouse him back to consciousness. “What do you want, Dream? I was kinda busy sleeping.”

“Yes, I wanted to talk with you before you drifted off again,” Dream told them. “I need you two to come back to Gainesville. I need you to find someone for me.”

“Dude we just got on this thing, yeh[1] couldn’t have called us earlier?” Phil groaned, looking out the window. “We’ve got Tech’s dogs ta[6] feed back home.”

“You cashing in your favor so soon?” Techno smiled eagerly, leaning in. “You calling it in?”

“What?” Dream smiled deviously. “For something this petty? No, I just figured you might want in on this. But if you want to head back to Inverness, that’s fine. I won’t stop you.”

“So, what’s the problem, mate?” Phil sighed.

“There’s a Legate in Gainesville, I’ve been tracking his legion’s movements for a while now, and he apparently hates making himself known,” Dream explained.

“You sure it’s not just an empath with a ton of spawnlings,” Techno rolled his eyes. “Everytime I go to find and fight one it’s always some empath hoarding their kids.”

“Positive, I wasn’t sure a couple weeks ago, which is why I didn’t waste your time with it before,” Dream dismissed cooly. “But he’s real, and this Legion has apparently been operating in Gainesville for the past twenty-five, thirty, years or so. The Entity hasn’t even seen him, he’s that secretive. His legion is apparently seven strong.”

Phil hummed in uncertainty but Techno was all smiles.

“We’re still heading back home, got some things ta[6] sort out, mate,” Phil gave Techno a look.

“Fine, I need to train anyways,” Techno huffed, a nasal growl in his voice. “Don’t wanna[9] be rusty.”

“That’s fair,” Dream stood up, taking a fair sized green box out of his pocket and giving it to. “You two know where to find me.”

“If you can get me some scents, I might bring some of my dogs over,” Techno promised.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Dream gave him a huge smile and put on his mask before walking off the train.

Another five minutes passed and the train started moving. Techno took his much needed rest, and Philza settled down with a book in his hands as they train bypassed the barrier from the conjoined city and into the UK proper where it rocketed towards Scotland. The stars in the night sky above.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. you

2. Hardly fair. We should have gone to find Tommy. That would have been more fair, man.

3. shithead

4. shit

5. of

6. to

7. into

8. You’re

9. want to

[xathia-89]

From a Fire in the Woods

Introducing my new OC: Caitriona as having been showcased in @muggzc amazing stuff (go check it out). This is her beginnings, and she is a pain in the ass. 

Thick black smoke was filling the air, the sound of screams and pleading of lives surrounded her. They'd fought so hard, moving every few days and making ends meet by posing as gypsies, but something had given them away as her legs were burning from her running. Her black hair was braided out of the way, but her pale amethyst eyes were full with the acrid smoke. They were destroying every part of their existence, as her survival instincts were her only thing right now.

Her parents were gone, they had been some of the first to be killed. She knew they were looking for her as she leapt over a fallen tree, desperate to find somewhere to hide.

She heard a mix of foreign languages before she ran. They were a mix of Parisian, Viennese, Florian and Roman. She knew enough to know who was after them as she squirrelled away under the fallen tree. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her arms wrapped around her body as footsteps came and went.

She knew all of the horror stories. It was all the village elders would talk about around the campfire, but she had always written it off as a story. It was designed to stop them straying too far, but now she could see it was all a watered-down story to the reality she was experiencing.

"Mademoiselle?"

She kept herself perfectly still. She didn't want to be found, she would end up dead if she was thought to be alive.

A soft hand, brushing her face in surprise and making her flinch. He gently scooped his arm around her shoulders and then under her legs, making sure not to knock her head.

"I know you are awake," his voice was soft. "I won't let them hurt you."

She didn't want to open her eyes and let him win. The Parisian was spoken fast and furiously, it soon became apparent that they didn't know each other all that well since the man sighed once they had passed the initial questioning of the camp guards. She barely knew any of the language, she knew what words to listen out for, and not one of them had been uttered in the conversation just gone. She knew what he was and he likely knew what she was, but he must have a hidden agenda.

He had someone else hold her before she was passed up to him. He had her settled in front of him on his horse and then waved himself off. The lack of resistance told her that he was an important one, possibly one of the principal families. Which only confused her.

"We are not far outside of Paris, I have a house here where you can sleep and rest up. Then you have a lot of questions for me to answer, I am certain. But you need to eat and sleep first."

True to his word, he didn't ask her anything. They arrived, and he gave her plenty of space. It was a substantial house, several bedrooms and even a private lake, which made her stare in awe. She was used to sneaking into places like this to bathe as the man gave her all the space.

"There is one other resident here," he informed her. "But he is on the top floor. I will leave you on the ground floor and instruct him to leave you be. I will get you some clean clothes, and I will have no doubt that you have already seen the lake, so I will leave you to it. I will be in the first room after the entrance when you wish to find me."

It was beyond puzzling. He should have killed her on the spot, but he was actively helping her past those who he should be calling his allies. He was living up to his word so far, but she couldn't let her guard down.

The lake was cold, but it took the dirt and ash off her. Her clothes were ruined now she had a chance to take a look at them, which made her a little sad. It was the only physical connection she had, and there was no way to salvage them before she reluctantly dragged herself back to the manor. Her stomach was complaining violently, it had been a couple of days since her last meal. The pursuit had been brutal.

She stood at the front of the house, her head tilted to the side before the sounds of Paris filtered past. It was all behind a barrier, designed to keep them out, and the residents of the house inside.

"I promise you that you will come to no harm," he was watching her. It was unsettling. "I arrived too late to help properly. For that, I apologise."

"How do I know I'm just not going to be your food supply?" She couldn't help herself. She felt like a trapped prey.

"Because I would rather end myself. Though I am certain, you know exactly how to. Besides, your blood is poisonous to us. That's part of your charm. We can't feed off you."

It made her pause and frown.

"I see that fact has slipped from memory. My mother was killed by a village elder of your clan. She fed from a witch, and it seemed to spark ruthless anger. I was away to tend to her. Do you remember anything leading up to the pursuit? The other vampires won't tell me what happened."

"We've been on the run for a few days. Stopping to change horses and drink enough to keep going, we haven't been able to get any food. I just remember seeing my parents sounding the alarm that we were under attack. All of the older adults were constantly coming and going beforehand. I was trying to get the herbs to pay for our next meal without needing to steal."

"I am sorry for your loss. I have had some bread, meat and cheese prepared for you. It is warmer insider," he gestured, his arm showing her the way.

He was pleasant enough to keep his distance as she did eat. Her magic told her it was safe before she couldn't help but delve in like a starved animal. He watched her from the doorway, a bottle of blood in hand.

"I still don't know why you are helping me," she said, pausing in her feasting.

"Because I had the means to save you all. And I didn't. I selfishly chose to spend time with my dying mother, who had no chance of being saved."

"That still doesn't mean you need to do this. You could kill me before I kill you."

"I have need of your magic, and in return, I will give you protection."

"Why my magic?"

"Your bloodline is talented. I need some help to make sure I can protect any more residents I do so happen to pick up."

"I will have a long list of requirements for you then."

"Then I believe we may be in business. May I know your name? I am Monsieur Le Comte de Saint Germain."

"Caitriona."

A smile. And it wasn't looking at her like she was food. "Then I believe you are in need of sleep after this. We will discuss the details later on."

True to his word, anything she wanted was gifted to her. She had a small apothecary on the outskirts of Paris, he furnished her out, and he would pay for anything that needed repairing. She had never known such luxury. She had someone chopping wood for her, the blacksmith would repair anything without coming to her for payment. She would also find out that Le Comte would give the butcher, fishmonger and farmers an advance for the week to supply her. She found herself mostly on her own, she worked on her magic to Comte's means. He rarely came to her, only when she had sent word.

Then she found her first patient. A woman was heavily pregnant, but the child has died in her. It was too long for her to bring him back, but the mother was in danger of death as well right now. She delivered the child and gave her all of the potions to ensure the woman would recover and even deliver a healthy baby for her next time.

Word spread quickly. Some accused her of witchcraft, but Caitriona snorted and gave them a show of the herbs she used. The loudest complainers would usually be on her doorstep in time. A relative dying she could help, she made sure to learn some incantations from the Bible, covering up her work as that of God's will. She could save the dying within reason. She knew when it was time to help someone along their journey and when they had more living to do.

The years passed into centuries.

She was stood in front of her finished product, next to Le Comte. Two intricately carved wooden doors, it had taken her decades of work, and she had been missing on more than a few occasions much to Comte's misgivings until she always returned.

"What is this?"

She was holding out something seemingly insignificant, a small charm made of silver by all appearances.

"The only thing to guarantee that you can travel freely between the two points in time. I have no way of guaranteeing where you come out on the other side, but I will promise that you will find what you are looking for. Anyone else travelling with you will need to be touching you, or they may get lost for all eternity, and even if I was to go looking for them, then I could not promise to find them."

"Where does it exit?"

It's a fixed point in La Louvre. Humans will pass the door by without a wish to use it. But I've also installed a protection feature," Caitriona paused and gestured to the large and ornate hourglass. "You can only use it once the sand has fallen through. Otherwise, you risk doing irreparable damage. Once you have passed through, you have 2 days to come back, and the door will not unlock from the other side until another turn has been completed."

"Thank you."

"Mm, I wouldn't thank me just yet. I can still kill you with my blood."

"If you do so you will be hunted until you are dead. I know my kindred know I am harbouring a witch from all that time ago. I have had demands from the Da Vinci family to pass you over."

"Caterina can suck a goose. Her son will be of more interest, I don't know entirely when he will be born, but I know the two of you will become fond of each other."

"I am sure that we will see."

[akar0ku]

“Do you think at all before you speak?” Cairn and Gawain, if you feel like it. I know I already sent you one.

“Fallacious”

Gawain had never seen the entirety of the castle in such an exuberant state of celebration. Though parties were by no means a rarity, they were most always reserved affairs. Events for the aristocracy and other such notable people to mingle and flaunt their status. This event was much more akin to the frat parties young recruits would throw in the dungeons. 

Gawain held fast to a neutral expression, not an easy feat considering the rage and disgust roiling within his core. The feeling was not targeted at the party; however, but rather the subject for celebration. He supposed he could let the laymen off easy for celebrating the demise of the water dragon. They hardly knew better and the hidden realities of their world were too complex to try and teach to a species who had long forgotten the past. But Kelvin’s slayer on the other hand.

He definitely had a few words to say to Cairn...That is if he could actually find the man among the throngs of celebrating knights and nobility. Cairn was nowhere to be found in either the ballroom or his quarters. With the easy spots out of the way, Gawain resigned himself checking every room, hall, and stairwell to find him.

After a long and thorough search of the fourth, third, and second floors, Gawain made his way to the smallest of the two towers. Before descending the staircase, Gawain peered down through the center of the spiral. And there was where his search finally ended. There was his long time friend, standing motionless at the bottom and staring at the set of doors opposite of the staircase. Under normal circumstances Gawain may have found the behavior concerning, but now all he could focus on was the barely controlled anger and disappointment for his friends actions.

“Cairn!” He bellowed before he was even half way down, his own voice echoing harshly within the narrow building. Cairn doesn’t move to acknowledge him and now Gawain’s concern is finally starting to override his anger. His descent slows as he reaches the final flight and he comes to a pause on the bottom floor, only a few meters from his friends back..

Cairn doesn’t turn to greet him, only staring steadfast at the doors before him. Gawain approaches Cairn, not quite cautious but still concerned as he circles a wide radius. The look on Cairn’s face is blank, eyes wide as he stares at a fixed spot ahead of him.

Gawain turns to look up at the spot the other man is so fixated on. He scans up and down the doorways expanse but finds nothing out of the ordinary. As he turns back, he opens his mouth to question the odd behavior, but his breath freezes in his lungs when he makes eye contact. Cairn is now staring directly at him, his usual warm dark eyes are now as sharp and cold as an obsidian knife.

Gawain was not a cowardly man by any means. He had fought one on one with green orcs and blood orcs, slayed many a number of frightful beasts, and apprehended some of the most depraved and dangerous criminals. Many times he had put his life on the line, and never once had he feared for it. But now all he could feel was the hammering of his heart against his chest, the roar of blood rushing in his ears, and the adrenaline spike that called for him to fight tooth and nail for his life.

But this couldn’t be right. This was Sir Cairn, his long time friend, his brother in arms. They had always had each other’s back, ever since their trainee days. He absolutely trusted Cairn with his life...but why was he now feeling like this very man could take that life away from him any second?

There was something so disturbingly unnatural in that stare.

“Gawain, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The abrupt shift in tone and instant softening of facial features left Gawain in a state of mental whiplash. “Are you alright?”

Gawain let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. What had that been about? Had he just imagined that? “I...am fine. Just growing tired from the ruckus going on upstairs.”

“Could it be the great Sir Gawain is starting to show his age? Too old to have any fun and in bed by sun down.” Cairn teased in his familiarly upbeat manner, making Gawain question for a moment if that was the case and he was starting to grow senile.

“I’ve plenty of vigor left to keep me going a long while.” Gawain replied curtly, now focusing on the original reason why he was here.. “I’ve searched nearly the whole castle for you. I’ve a mind to beat you senseless on what you’ve done!”

Cairn hummed a confused sound, head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he crossed his arms. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Do not feign ignorance with me. You know exactly what I speak of.”

Cairn sighed and closed his eyes as he nodded in realization. “The water dragon. I probably should have guessed you wouldn't be very happy about that. You do realize though that I had to follow orders?”

“This is not comparable to dealing with some farm pest! What you’ve done, you’ve disrupted the very balance of our world. Did you not think of the repercussions, of the eventual chaos you’ve inevitably brought onto everyone.”

“The dragon threatened our safety!” Cairn snapped. “I was ordered to take care of it. You know I couldn’t refuse a direct order from the prime minister himself.”

“So then are you going to be hunting down the other dragons?”

“Only if they threaten humanity’s safety and I am ordered to do so.”

“When did you grow to be so selfish? Do you not realize that all you’ve done is prolong the inevitable? Do you not realize how your actions will irreparably damage our relations with the other races? Do you think about your actions at all before you go through with them?!”

“Do YOU think at all before you speak?!” Gawain was taken aback by the outburst. Never before had he heard Cairn yell with such force. “What was I supposed to do? Just sit here as the dragon tore through the countryside, killing innocent people? Should I have waited for the others to join it in it’s rampage? Should I have waited for them to fulfill their part in the cycle and just shrug my shoulders as my family and friends die?”

That look was back in his eyes, cold, sharp, and now laced with killer intent. Instinctively, Gawain reached behind him for his morning-star, only to find with blood chilling realization that he hadn’t brought it. This would not be an easy fight if things escalated...and fleetingly he wondered if he would be walking away at all.

“You know this is how it has to be.” Gawain’s voice came low and raspy, hoping that somehow he would get logic through whatever fog had possessed his friend. “If family and friends are your biggest concern, then why not go be with them? Instead of running off on a pointless mission that will only wind up with you dead.”

“You might be fine with sitting back and waiting for the end. But I will not allow us to be sacrificed without a fight.” Gawain shook his head at Cairn’s words. They had known this day was likely coming, Nogueria and Zane had both explained the old legends with them. He had thought Cairn was of the same understanding as he was on the matter.

“What is it that has changed your perspective on this?”

Or had Cairn been harboring such reservations and denial this whole time, Gawain wondered.

A flash of quick movement had Gawain instantly falling into fight mode. He saw both of Cairn’s hands fall to the sword at his hip, one grasping the scabbard and the other the hilt. On instinct, Gawain pressed forward, knowing at this point that his best bet for survival was to be too close for a sword to be effective and rely on grappling his way out of here.

Both men remained in close proximity, staring intently at one another and waiting for the first move.

“Father?” Gawain could feel the color draining from his face as he recognized his son’s voice.

Cairn also took notice of their new visitor, slowly turning to look over his shoulder and also leaving enough of an opening for Gawain to look past him. There; at the base of the stairway, stood his twelve year old son with the uncomfortable look of someone who knew they had interrupted something but weren’t sure exactly what that something was.

“Ganz…” Gawain breathed, his adrenaline now spiking higher as his concerns shifted from self preservation to doing whatever it would take to ensure the safety of his own child.

“Ganz! Look at you, I feel like you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!” Cairn’s shift in mood once again left Gawain with a sense of whiplash and unease.

“I saw you last week. I uh, I don’t think I could grow so notably in such a short amount of time Sir.” Ganz replied sheepishly.

“Ganz, I’ve already told you, you don’t need to call me Sir.” Cairn chided lightheartedly.

Gawain bristled as he watched the taller knight begin to approach Ganz.

“Ah, right Sir. My apologies.” Ganz laughed with nervous innocence.

Cairn let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head. He reached out a hand to ruffle the stocky boy’s blond hair, but was smacked away before he could reach his mark. Cairn recoiled, staring at Gawain with a look of hurt in his eyes. 

Gawain only glared up at him, a protective anger radiating from every point on his body.

“Gawain, what’s gotten into you. You’re acting like I murdered an entire orphanage” Cairn accused, sounding a mixture of hurt, confused, and indignant.

“I will speak with you more on it later.” Gawain gritted between clenched teeth. He had no clue what was going on with his friend's mood swings, but he wasn’t about to linger here with his son and no weapons with which to protect them with just to find out.

Gawain nudged his son back towards the stairs with his elbow, feeling the boy hesitate for only a moment before obeying. He followed after the boy, never once taking his eyes off Cairn until said man eventually exited through one of the doorways.

“Father,” Gawain looked at his son, finding he had paused several steps above him. “What was that about?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He replied, feeling a slight pull of guilt in his chest when the boy gave him a disappointed look. “What are you doing down here? Where’s your mother?”

“She’s upstairs saying her goodbye’s. She wants to go home but I wanted to find you and ask if perhaps I could stay here with you at the castle for a few days.” Gawain was at a loss for how to answer. Things between him and Cairn had escalated concerningly fast, and no matter what, he couldn’t shake that sense of endangerment he was feeling towards his long time friend right now.

He must have taken too long to think of his answer, since Ganz started back peddling his request and apologizing.

“I’m sorry my boy. Something’s come up that I need to look into.” He couldn’t risk taking his attention off of Cairn right now. Not until he’d figured out what was going on.

“I see…” Ganz mumbled, the look of disappointment on his face pulled at Gawain’s heart but it was better off this way. Father and son made the rest of the trip up the stairs in silence.

When they reached the third floor, Gawain stopped his son from leaving with a hand on his shoulder. That boy stared him at him expectantly, but Gawain only took the moment to take in the site of him. His mind wanders back to Cairn’s words and for a moment he wonders if maybe he was the one who was misguided in blindly swallowing humanity’s fate without question.

“This matter should only take me a few days. Once it’s resolved, I’ll take time off to come home. Will that make it up to you?”

A smile instantly breaks across Ganz’ face and the boy agrees eagerly. It’s the least he can do for the boy at this point.

Gawain watches his son leave until the boy is long out of site. His mind is heavy with the weight of processing everything that is going on and tangential thoughts on how to rectify them. For now, the only place he can think to start is to speak with both of the elven leaders.

Satisfied with his next step, he retreats to his chambers with the intent to write to Nogueira about his impending arrival and to put in his request of personal leave.

---

A/N: While writing this I got the idea to actually try and make this into a multi part series. I have a couple other ideas based around Cairn’s Algandars and in writing this I kinda want to better explore a few thing. This one would probably take place somewhere in the middle of that project so I’ll probably be re-posting this with edits that make it better fit in with the others. Especially where I’ve kinda come to the idea that Cairn and Gawain are both aware of the Gold and Silver dragon cycles but the both of them have different views on it that are kinda not quite wrong or right in their own ways. Also thanks Henry!

[r6shippingdelivery]

I saw the "what scares you the most" reblog and I am wondering if you could extend the hc thing and let us know the deepest fears of all the ops :)

Oh boi, you don’t ask easy stuff, do you? Okay, I’ll give it my best shot! And a big thank you and hug to @todragonsart who’s been a huge inspiration and help, and my willing co-conspirator 💜

FBI

Ash: Failure, not being good enough at what she does. Combined with her impulsiveness and competitve nature, it can be a volatile mix. She also fears being treated differently than her colleagues just because she’s a woman.

Thermite: He’s afraid of his explosives. He knows how unstable they can be, and how easily they could cost someone’s life (his own or even worse, someone else’s). He nearly lost all sensibility in his hands the last time a charge went awry, he doesn’t want to contemplate what could happen if he messed up again. Still, he won’t let his fear change his life, or make him lose confidence in himself.

Pulse: Spiders. All those spindly legs and how they scuttle around, weaving that disgusting stuff… he can’t stand spiders, they make his skin crawl.

Castle: The hopelessness of life, how the bad always seems to outshine the good and the fear that his effort and choices won’t really make a difference.

SAS

Thatcher: The pass of time. All his life he’s been a soldier, he doesn’t know what he’ll be once he can’t serve anymore.

Sledge: Not measuring up to what people expect of him. He knows he’s expected to be Thatcher successor when the old man retires, and those are some really big shoes to fill in. He’s also afraid of not being able to protect his squad, his friends. Especially the younger two, who can be reckless and irresponsible at times or most of the time in Smoke’s case

Smoke: Being ignored and alone, that’s the reason he was/is a troublemaker, to catch people’s attention.

Mute: Memory loss. Aside of all the wealth of knowledge he has suddenly disappearing, are you still yourself without your memories?

GIGN

Montagne: Illness, like the one that runs in his family. He can fight terrorists, but he’s not so sure he could fight (and win) against cancer.

Twitch: She’s strongly empathetic, and she fears that could be her downfall, that  it could make her unable to act decisively in the middle of the action, that her emotions would paralyze her.

Doc: His choices costing innocent lives, even if it was by inaction (rather than direct action) on his part,

Rook: He fears his trust exercises makes him look gullible, aside from worrying that his skillset is insufficient compared to the other prodigies in Rainbow, that he’s too simple to be part of such an elite group.

Spetsnaz

Tachanka: He built himself an image of powerful, unflappable and unstoppable force, yet deep down he’s only human. He’s terrified people will see through his act and stop respecting him without that metaphorical mask.

Kapkan: The unstoppable marching of time that is slowly guiding us to inevitable death (according to that post you mention xD). In fact I think he’s terrified of his own feelings, of becoming too attached and emotionally dependant on other people. He craves it as much as he fears it.

Glaz: Going blind. He’s a soldier, a sniper, and an artist. Without his eyesight, he would be nothing.

Fuze: Despite his reputation, he’s terrified of accidentally killing someone with his gadget, be it a civilian or worse, one of his team mates.

GSG9

Jäger: He has PTSD from Outbreak, which for a time rendered him unable to pilot even. It also left him with an irrational panic to darkness, he sometimes thinks he can still hear those things scuttling closer and closer to him, while he’s alone in the dark, not knowing if anyone will come for him.

Bandit: He’s already experienced it, and would rather never have to lose someone close to him, knowing it was his fault. That’s why he tends to keep people at arm’s lenght. Note: I don’t think Cedrick is dead, but Bandit is too chicken to face him after the incident, considering their relationship irreparably damaged, aka lost.

Blitz: After being a soldier in the Kosovo war and witnessing its horrors, plus all that he’s seen working in a counter-terrorism unit, he’s afraid of discovering how far human depravity can go. Every time he’s deployed, he fears what new horrors he’ll see this time. However, that’s also the reason he wanted this job, to stop those things from happening.

IQ: She’s a perfectionist, and her obsessive nature and refusal to gice up are a result of her deep seated fear of failure. She defines her worth by her success, and if she doesn’t succeed, then what is she worth?

JTF2

Buck: He’s a direct and practical man, he fears being stuck in a position where he has to act diplomatically or deal with politicians, or even being a public face where his actions and words would be examined by many people.

Frost: She’s not good at reacting in front of surprise or unpredictable situations, plans meticulously because she fears getting caught off guard and not knowing what to do.

SEAL

Valkyrie: She fears physical injury. She already had to give up her dream of being an Olympic swimmer after the car accident that broke her arm, now the stakes of injury are much higher, and she could lose her job and new life. She also fears being treated differently or patronized just for being a woman on an almost purely male environment.

Blackbeard: He’s afraid of losing faith in his nation. If his country was wrong, he would start to question if what he’s done for the country was the right thing or not, and that terrifies him.

BOPE

Capitao: He fears helplessness, being again in a situation where he can’t do anything but wait for someone to help him, just as it happened when h was taken hostage all those years ago.

Caveira: Not being able to protect her family is her worst fear, and knowing how prone her brothers are to get in trouble, it’s not an unreasonable fear. She would do anything for them.

SAT

Hibana: She’s scared of losing her cultural identity. Tradition is important to her and her family, and yet she works away from home in a multicultural team, so she fears losing touch with her roots, forgetting who she is.

Echo: He’s terrified of Ying. Have you ever seen her angry? He has, and after all you can’t spell terrifying without ying.

GEO

Jackal: Failing his brother’s memory. If he can’t solve Faisal’s murder, what’s the use of his life? He can’t have his brother back, hell sometimes he can barely remember his face anymore, but he can bring him justice.

Mira: Fear of abandonment. After he mother left when she was a child, she always has that little voice in the back of her head whispering that everyone else will leave her too, just like mom did.

SDU

Ying: She has PTSD from being in a car crash. Took up driving, and quite recklessly, to feel that she was in control of the situation, not her fears. Yet every time she hears a loud crash noise or feels the car not responding as it should, she starts to feel the panic building up.

Lesion: Drowning. He’s a good swimmer, but during the incident in the oil tank, when he igested the oily water and started coughing, that was the first time he ever thought he would die, with his lungs filled with toxic waters, and it stuck with him.

GROM

Zofia: Following her father’s footsteps and alienating her family because of her job and the expectations she puts on others.

Ela: Due to how her childhood was, she’s always had that feeling in the back of her mind that she won’t ever be enough for the people close to her, not as good as others, not as worthy of love. She also fears she’ll live all her life under Zofia’s shadow, unable to be anything else but the Bosak little sister.

707SMB

Vigil: He’s afraid of loss, vulenaribility, emotions… In fact, it would be easier to list what he isn’t afraid of. Just check his bio and you’ll see.

Dokkaebi:  She fears to not be taken seriously due to his young age and image. That’s the reason she so viciously shows off her skills and exploits people’s weaknesses. She is ruthless out of fear.

CBRN

Lion: Himself, what he most fears is becoming again who he was before finding faith. He knows his pride and anger aren’t good either, but at least they keep him in check from spiralling down again.

Finka: Her illness, she’s terrified of the day she won’t be able to move, feels like it’s a countdown to the moment her life will be forever put on hold and she will only be a victim, someone to be pitied.

GIS

Maestro: He fears losing the ability to chose what he wants, of his family or Rainbow taking him for granted and wanting him to stay forever, and how could he say no to his loved ones even if he wanted something else? The guilt of leaving them would kill him.

Alibi: Stemming from witnessing her father being extorted by the mafia, she fears being taken advantage of, or witnessing again how someone close to her being in that position. She’s also afraid that in such situation her anger would override her common sense.

GSUTR

Clash: She’s afraid of her own volatile emotions, of acting rashly again like she did when she was part of the riots.

Maverick: Water, it triggers his PTSD, bringing back memories from when he was imprisoned and waterboarded during that time he was MIA. He avoids bodies of water as much as he can.

GIGR

Kaid: He’s a man who values honour highly, and fears that his moral integrity could be questioned, that someone would think him capable of taking bribes like the Commander that besmirched the reputation of the Fortress before he took over.

Nomad: Growing up in a privileged family came with certain expectations for her future, however, she preferred to enlist and travel constantly alone rather than remain home. She fears having to live a sheltered life again, having to marry and not being able to keep proving to everyone and herself that she’s capable of.

SASR

Mozzie: He’s afraid of being forgotten, and that’s the reason for his showman personality and his tendency to take risks.

Gridlock: She fears taking on more responsabilites than the ones she already has (eldest of 5 siblings, indebted family, taking care of the farm’s finances, and protective of her teammates), that’s why she keeps turning down promotions.

BONUS

Warden: He painstakingly built himself an aura of mystery and danger and proficiency, his biggest fear is people being able to see through all of that. He can’t bear the idea of someone degrading his merits.

Nokk: [REDACTED]

[im-a-ramblr]

Linked universe with wild as the main. He has a panic attack bad enough for him to dissociate. Preferably during a battle with a Lynel and gets covered in (blood) something. And they have to wrestle him to take care of his injuries and clean his clothes.

Ta-da! Here you go! Also please note that I do not have any personal experience with dissociation, so the representation here is based on what I found while (briefly) researching it. It is not meant to be offensive in any way shape or form.

Wild wanted to laugh as he ducked around the Lynel. It wasalmost dead! That meant they could rest soon. They’d been walking for days, andbetween the monsters, weather, and constantly switching worlds, had had littletime to rest. Maybe when they were done here, they could ask Purah if shehad any idea what had sparked the rapid changing of worlds. The long hair boynotched an arrow just as he heard a hauntingly familiar sound. He pivoted eyesscanning for the guardian. He had to find it. It shouldn’t even be active. Hisbreath came out of ragged gasps. He was tired. Twilight scream for him andWild felt something heavy pin him to the ground. The ground where he’d beenstanding lit up before disappearing. Shocked shouting. Zelda was in trouble andhe had to get up and get to her. Had to save her. He’d die, but he had alwayskno- No! he didn’t want to remember this! HE DIDN’T WANT THIS! The memory beganto fade, along with his eyesight. He tried to scream. All that came out was amuffled whimper.

Hyrule stared groaned as he was flung from Wild, who wasscreaming his head off. “Wild! Breath!” He yelled, holding hisstomach. It did nothing. Wind called something, but Hyrule couldn’t hear itover the roaring Lynel and Wild’s screams. 

Then the world fell silent.

The traveler glanced back towards the battlefield, just intime to see Twilight rushing for Wild. “What happened?” the farm boydemanded.

“I- I don’t know.”

“Wild!” Twilight barked, grabbing a potion for thesmaller boy. Wild started at Twilight, eyes wide. At least he thought it wasTwilight. He all his memories left fuzzy, and that scared him for somereason.  He didn’t like this. He wantedit to stop.

And then it did.

Twilight felt a relieved sigh as Wild pushed himself up, butthe questions were cut short as he stumbled away. He was still bleeding, despitethe potion, and seemed to have lost all sense of direction.

“Wild, what happened,” Time asked, putting a handon the burned man’s shoulder. Wild just kept walking towards the corpse of theLynel, before the collapsed. The group flinched in unison as he landed in apool of the beast’s blood.

“Well, there goes that tunic.” Warriors sighed ashe pulled Wild up, he nearly dropped him. “He’s still awake.

“It was irreparable already, and I doubt- that’s reallycreepy.” Legend yelped. Wild’s eyes were open, but they were blank. Aftera moment Legend grabbed his other arm.  Theydragged the unresponsive boy over to the rest of the group.

“What happened to him?” Wind asked, tearing his eyes awayfrom his friend.  

Twilight started to cut the ruined tunic off his protégé; frowning when he noticed that, although the wound looked much better it was still there. “Ithink it was the arrow. It sounded a bit like the guardians he used to fight, andit freaked him out.” No one questioned how Twilight knew that. He had always hada better grasp of Wild and his land than the others. “We’ll ask him about itwhen he wakes up.” He reached into his bag for bandages. “I need water, it won’t help if we wrap him with a bunch on Lynel’s blood on him.” Time started giving orders, but Twilight was only half listening. Then Wild punched him. Twilight jerked back, dropping the cloth. Time rushed over to try and hold the flailing boy. He got a flat-handed slap to his good eye. Four gabbed one of Wild’s arms and used his whole body to pin it to the ground. Sky did the same with his legs. Time grabbed his other arm.

“What is wrong with him?” Sky asked as Wild’s torso arched of the ground. 

 Twilight stepped over Four and grabbed the role of bandages.“I don’t know but hold him still. I have to finish wrapping him.”

Wild woke up slowly. He felt warm and stiff. He made a faceas he sat up, only to have his left side fill with pain. He groaned but managedto stay upright. A hand clasped his right shoulder. “You okay?” Twilight asked.Wild nodded, before noticing the black eye twilight was sporting.

“What happened?” Wild asked

“Great question. The answer is we don’t know. You were unresponsive,until about halfway through bandaging you up. And then you were a failing, hittingmess. Also, why didn’t the potion heal you all the way? It should have.”

And suddenly Wild remembered. “The Lynel had an AncientArrow. It should have killed me.”

“Oh. I’m guessing they don’t usually have those?”

“Never.” Wild took a deep breath, before letting it out. “SorryI freaked out.”

“It’s okay Cub. Just focus on healing.”