#but this will have horrible consequences for him after he turns six

[marlenacantswim]

hey gang, do we all agree that ten's massive ego and god complex (or rather those traits being especially prominent in his regeneration) were a direct result of what happened in Parting of the Ways?

"marlena what the fuck do you mean" okay well think about it; ninth doctor. fresh off the time war. thinks himself unlovable, unworthy of love. just did a double genocide, including against his own people. he's returning to his old ways of lallygagging around helping humans in a more-than-desperate attempt to repress his feelings and try to mimic the person he was before the war. he's so vulnerable.

enter rose tyler. to him? she's the most amazing person in the universe. he loves her, full stop. she makes him feel like maybe he's still capable of love, but does he really trust her love for him? after all, she doesn't really know him, does she?

all that comes to a head when rose tyler becomes the bad wolf. in that moment, she sees everything. everything everything. the doctor's past, and the doctor's future. every horrible thing they did and will do.

and in that moment, with all this truth streaming constantly into her brain, most amazing person in the universe rose tyler looks at him and goes "i want to save you. you are worth saving."

bro no fucking shit ten has a motherfucking god complex, jesus christ i would too!!!

now personally i think nine would have rationalized it and been relatively Normal 'bout all that noise had he survived onwards, but unfortunately he didn't, and so when the doctor's subconscious and the universe were holding hands deciding what their new little guy should be like... well, we're already making him just for her, and she loves him.

rose tyler loves me. she loved me even when she knew me.

i'm just saying, that "Bad Wolf chose to save me" to "the laws of time are mine to command" pipeline is a straight vertical drop only a few feet long.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Could you please point me to any angsty fics that are about a reunion/reconciliation in season 3? Perhaps any that include a kiss? Thank you so much!!

Hi! Here are some post-series two angsty reconciliation fics. Mind the tags and warnings on a couple of these!!...

Worship This Love by ghostsandmermaids (T)

Aziraphale resigns as Supreme Archangel, and Crowley has… mixed feelings about his return.

Night's Embrace by waterfallsilverberry (T)

Crowley grapples with Aziraphale's sudden decision to leave, leading to a heated confrontation about their love, choices, and consequences. Aziraphale expresses regret and the realization of needing Crowley. Despite initial anger, they reconcile, deciding to face the future together with renewed understanding and a commitment to each other.

something sweet and blue by perilit (M)

Crowley’s not breathing. They don’t technically need to, but the lack of it is so jarring that for a minute, Aziraphale just stands there and trembles, overwhelmed. Lord, what have I done? Aziraphale returns from Heaven after a year away, and discovers Crowley has all but given up. Before he can put things to rights, he’ll have to coax Crowley back to living.

Falling through the hours by verovex (T)

Through a renewed Arrangement, seeing how far ‘not talking’ really gets them, and conjuring hesitant, hopeful, mutual daydreaming, Aziraphale is then unceremoniously written out of the Book of Life. Crowley is left with the remnants of being the only one who remembers him, and the chasms of grief it brings are only stifled by how the world that remains would’ve been the image Aziraphale had always wanted.

six millenia, then nothing, nothing by solarmoth (M)

(He had been careening, hopeless, uncontrolled, thousands of years in the falling. It was inevitable that he was going to hit the ground eventually. Every fall must end this way. There is no other ending.) Or: Crowley is angry. Aziraphale is disillusioned. Heaven is horrible, though that's nothing new. The two of them find each other, again, again.

In Pieces by LollipopCop (E)

Crowley has been nursing his broken heart in a numb stupor since the day Aziraphale left for Heaven, but it turns out he isn't the only one suffering. Their kiss did not go unnoticed by the Metatron, nor unpunished.

- Mod D

[siren-141]

shame on me ✤ final

sorry it took so long, I've been busy with vacation and school. I probably would not have made this into a four-part miniseries without all of the support and requests, so I thank each and every one of you 🥰 here's the final part/epilogue! I hope you all enjoy 🖤

It had been two years.

Paris, Athens, Morocco. You had gone everywhere. Hell, even New York City.

That was maybe the hardest location you had stayed since your disappearance from the Avengers Tower all those years ago – what had been your home for the past few years. Where all of your friends had been, where Bucky had been. Where the two of you had built a home together.

Walking the streets, memories flooding back in every corner you looked…it was rough. It was rough when you’d sit on your fire escape and watch Bucky down below, look in back alleys and knock on doors asking if anyone had seen you. It was rough when you’d look out the window of the coffee shop you were sitting in, sipping on hot tea in the middle of a cold February, and watch Bucky across the street sit in the bar the two of you would frequent when you wanted a night out. It was funny though, watching him look for you in all your frequent places.

He looked for a couple of months, apparently. You hadn’t stayed in NYC for long after you had left the Tower, only staying long enough for your connections to make you a new passport and secure you a house in some other country that was far, far away. But you had kept tabs for the first three months of your escape. Bucky looked and looked, going from state to state and country to country to check out all of the safe houses. Following your normal patterns. But he never came close to finding you.

After a while, he had given up. He had sat slumped in a conference chair with this dead look in his eyes, everything that had ever mattered to him completely gone. His friends tried to console, but it never helped. He blamed himself for your disappearance – and he was right to do so. He finally came to understand that his actions bore the consequence of you leaving not only him, but everyone you loved, probably forever.

He went on missions and acted erratically, got drunk on Asgardian Ale every night that he could. His hair had grown back out, he had become more violent on his missions. Turning into a shell of himself, any reason he had to exercise self-restraint and maintain his humanity now gone. He thought he had healed from the decades of torture, trauma, and brainwashing, and he had: there was no turning back into the Winter Soldier. But he didn’t like who had become without you. Nobody liked who he had become. He was still a damn good agent, but too hot-headed for his own good. Too willing to sacrifice himself. He was on a path of self-destruction, and it seemed like nothing would help except for groveling at your feet if you had ever come back.

You, on the other hand, had it better. You had your horrible nights, of course – nights where you cried and screamed and regretted that you had ever left your friends and only family behind. You just wanted to go home on those nights, but you realized that your home wasn’t in that apartment with Bucky laying next to you anymore: your home would be on that 16th floor of the Tower, waking up every morning and going down the elevator to fix a cup of coffee or tea, never really leaving work since you lived there again. Back to the beginning. You couldn’t do that to yourself – you owed it to yourself to have a fresh start.

But those horrible nights ended about six months into your disappearance. You let yourself grieve a life once lived, but you also realized that you could be anywhere, do anything you wanted now. A true fresh start. You still had all of your aliases with you, but you only went by one now – one that nobody knew of. You supposed that keeping connections outside of the Avengers was one of the smartest things you had done, in the event that you needed to run. In events like these.

So here you were, two years later, sitting outside at a table in Barcelona. You sipped on your coffee, watching over the crowds in the streets. Teenagers out from school during the summertime, walking arm in arm with their friends, laughing and smiling. Couples with their babies, walking down the cobblestone roads with strollers. There was a time that it would have triggered something in you: thoughts of that should have been me. Those thoughts were long gone, though. They had been for a while.

You had moved on. You had moved on from fighting the powers of the world and living life as a civilian. Of course you couldn’t help yourself if you were walking late at night and a thief tried to rob a group of young women – that had happened a year ago, and you had casually walked past and brought the thief down with a few swift moves, before casually walking off in the direction of your flat. But for the most part – you had moved on. You stopped looking for trouble. You stopped being self-destructive and allowed yourself to let the happiness and the joy in of traveling the world under better circumstances than normal. Sure, you had left your old life behind, but you had also begun a new one. You had left and said goodbye to everyone who mattered, effectively bringing everything to a close and not leaving anyone hanging with much more than speculations of how you had disappeared.

Basking in the soft sunlight, you sighed to yourself, content with life. You brought the mug up to your lips, taking a small sip. Setting the mug down, you spoke.

“I was waiting for you to speak, but I was about to ask for the check. Didn’t want you to miss your opportunity.”

Natasha smiled behind her newspaper, having missed the sound of your voice. Putting the paper down, she got up from her seat at the small table behind you and instead sat across from you.

You smiled, having missed your best friend.

“It’s been a while,” she said, small smile still playing on her lips.

“It has,” you smiled back. She hadn’t changed a bit. “I’ve missed you, Nat.”

“I missed you too. We all have,” she replied. “I know you told me not to come and find you, and trust me – I didn’t. I never came to look for you before these past three months. You deserved that kind of peace – you still do.”

“But..?”

She sighed, taking off her sunglasses and setting them gently down on the table.

“We need you. This isn’t a personal visit, unfortunately. Only Tony knows that I’ve come to find you…it was actually his idea.”

You looked at her, almost in shock. A million thoughts flooded your mind. You had made so much progress, lived such a nice life ever since leaving…did you really want to go back?

“You don’t have to. It’s optional – we can find a way to do this without you. I’ll tell Tony that I just ran into a dead-end. Never found you – and I can leave, and we can pretend that this never happened.”

“What’s the mission?”

Natasha paused, hesitating to continue. When you met her eyes, she knew you were serious. “Our files. Our aliases, our covers…everything is in the hands of a man who goes by Typhon. He’s selling it to the highest bidder, which is every single enemy we’ve ever had and everyone who plans to be one. It’s all compromised.”

You thought about it. You didn’t have much time to think about it, though. You had a nice life here – nice and peaceful. But a part of you would always miss the chaos.

Raising your hand, you grabbed the attention of the waiter. “Señor – la cuenta, por favor?”

“Thanks, everyone, for coming. I mean, it wasn’t optional, but you get the gist,” Tony spoke, voice tired and stressed. The room was dark – not the same Tower that they were used to meeting in. Since everything had been compromised, the new meeting point was an underground cave that was unknown to most – old railways that used to be for smuggling in alcohol during the Prohibition Era, now covered up with skyscrapers on top of them.

Everyone stood around, listening intently.

Natasha walked in, joining the rest of the group. “Sorry we’re late, the air was rough.”

There were murmurs, people sharing confused glances.

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathed out, the shakes coming back to his body. His breathing got heavier, his hands coming to the back of his head to alleviate the pressure. Some looked back at him, confused at his realization.

You stepped out from the shadowed corner, just a few seconds behind Natasha, fully suited and ready to get started.

“It’s about time,” Tony said, looking at you before focusing his attention back on the group. “You almost missed the most important part.”

[edvinception]

Epilogen - cast promo

Contains spoilers and clips from part 1

Here's a bit of a summary of what they say

what happened last time?

Gustav turned in his police badge. He's no longer s cop.

Linus has suffered and suffered for six seasons. Last time his girl friend passed away(really passed away, Edvin? Not was brutally murdered?) And ge got kidnapped ans tortured so he has things to work through.

Barry made a deal with Emil and went to prison

Emil promised Sonja to look after her kids

Sonja indirectly (let's be honest it was very directly Alex) ordered the murder of Zac. She let go of the clutch of the car and it exploded.

Describe epilogen in three words

Drama, loneliness, reconciliation, love, consequence, humour, grief, running away, hope, chaos, penance, surprise, horror, disgust, the real end

Where's your character now

Gustav is really lost. He doesn't know how to take care of himself and by extension his daughter

Nina is in a very different place. She's putting up a facade to Fredrik but she's feeling horrible

Barry is in prison, he's plotting and planning

Linus has been shutting every out for a long time. He doesn't want to be a victim any more. He's bleached his hair and shaved it off and started working in a kitchen.

Sonja where is Sonja? You have to watch to find out. An angel? A ghost? Will she be in flashbacks?

Emil is rather successful for once. He's cleaned up the streets from criminals but he's built a world of lies which starts to catch up with him.

In epilogen we can look forward to mad action, extreme suspense, humour, drama, tears, dark secrets, vomit and other bodily fluids (okay Edvin)

You are in for a ride!

Not every one survives!

[httpskuzuu]

Softer Pt.2

I like October, it's my birthday month, and I finally finished the second part of Softer :p

Anyway, I think you can tell that I like the word need, necesitar, in Spanish or English sounds good :D and this is my favorite part, I think, I really like how they both turned out

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (but the part 2 >:p) Pt.1

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, explicit self-harms, blood, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, self-blame, suicidal thoughts, mention of death (no one dies), blood loss, manipulation, trauma, mention of god, Fyodor is a fucking tw

It was three phases from your confession and your punishment.

Everything was perfect and nice for the first two weeks, until your cuts became scars. He seemed to go out of his way to make you feel good and loved by him, and you were very grateful. Now, you feel ungrateful to be complaining about his change.

After six weeks, your ribs healed and he began to distance you. When you noticed that, you panicked, you cried whole nights and days in your room because of this fact, how was it possible that something like this had affected you so much? You don't even know yourself, you just know that you wanted to pull out every hair on your body to forget about the emotional pain you were carrying.

And now, well, you can't be so horrible and say that Fyodor is back to his usual self, it's more like a strange mix, that comforts you. That this Fyodor is a mix of the previous ones makes you think he's trying to be gentle, but he's having a difficult time. You like to opine that that's the right reason for not sinking you further.

You wish you could say you hate normal Fyodor, but you can't hate any part of Fyodor and that worries you. What's been happening to you? Why are you behaving this way? Always looking for the terrorist's cold touch like an abandoned dog. Always waiting for him like a dog, loving him like one, messy, intense and ready to die for your owner.

Your mind was broken, atrophied and without any hope of repair. That scares you. You don't want this! You want your mind back! You miss being able to think about something else that isn't related to Fyodor. It's like being an intruder in your own mind, you no longer belong in that place full of happy memories, now blurred.

Sometimes you love your useless mind, you love believing in him the way you do, and you love how that seems to satisfy him. Maybe that's all your mind is looking for: to satisfy him.

Speaking of satisfying: he no longer seems to enjoy punishing you, which completely disorients you. All your life you were assuming that the only way to satisfy Fyodor was to let him mistreat you, but now? Now he was only touching you to give you light caresses. You don't want to be an idiot, you love that now your body doesn't suffer, but that doesn't take away from the fact that a small part of your skin is missing the pain. It's as if you were created to be hurt.

You convince yourself that you are ungrateful. Fyodor has changed for you, and you play the victim, saying that everything is so weird, poor you. You can't think about anything else besides yourself because you are a bad person, because you don't deserve the change Fyodor made for you.

It's not like before, everything is so much more comfortable in his presence, even if afterward he disappears for hours and makes your mind a prison of horrible thoughts, thoughts of firmly believing that it's your fault he's gone.

Physical contact has also changed, it is somewhat more common than with normal Fyodor, but it is nothing compared to gentle Fyodor. It really hurts you inside every time he is in front of you, and he isn't touching you or talking to you. Something is broken, and you don't quite know why. How needy of attention have you become in this time?

What did Fyodor do with your mind? You don't know. The horror of what he did to you is still in you, lurking like a shadow. It won't go away.

Sometimes there's a little voice deep in the back of your head, the only sane part left in you. It shows up on dark nights, when you're alone, makes you realize all the shit Fyodor put you through and how much he fucked up your mental health. You like having that little voice, it feels like getting over Fyodor somehow, it's a shame it disappears the next morning along with the first bite of breakfast.

Even though you listen to it, you never mind it, and that can be noticed by the need to not be able to bear it anymore, you need Fyodor so badly. You miss him every time he's gone. You miss the person who hurt you.

Maybe you really are going crazy.

You think about the fact that Fyodor took care of you after the punishment, when you were moribund and almost unable to move from the pain, and that his kind behavior ended after all your damages were healed.

You were about to do something crazy, you were aware of it, but you would give anything to feel that angelic temperature change again.

You have a sharp knife in your hand, you squeeze it so hard that your fist turns white. Fyodor never hides sharp objects, only pills, he knows you wouldn't be able to kill yourself with them out of fear.

Something tells you to kill yourself, to teach Fyodor a lesson.

Again your ungrateful thoughts come back, he already told you, you are just a brat. A fucking brat, and what you were doing now proves it.

But can you really blame yourself for this? You just need his attention, you need that love in his hands, you need him to care so much about you that he locks every drawer in the house.

That's why you're here now, in the bathroom, with your elbows resting on the sink and the knife almost brushing against your clean arm. About to kill a part of you to keep his gentleness alive.

You think about whether it's possible that he might be angry with you for this, for staining your skin with wounds without his permission. You think if he gets angry and punishes you it will also be worth it because there is a chance he will take care of you after that like the first time.

Maybe all you need to do is talk it over with him, maybe you need his naked body against yours to keep control, or maybe a simple kiss would be better. Maybe you should relax, maybe you should ask him for a hug, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe….

A cut and the blood starts to spread. You feel an immense urge to vomit, and you regret everything that led you to this moment.

You drop the knife limply and cover the wound with your now free hand. You watch the scene you've made for yourself with wide, shocked eyes. Why did you do all this? Just for Fyodor's attention? How pathetic of you.

You're like a child, crying and screaming, having a tantrum to get what you want.

You don't even heed your thoughts, and your gaze returns to the knife lying in the sink. The fright has dissipated and only silence remains. You need to cut more, how will you make Fyodor care about you with just one cut? You need more, you need to tear your arm if you have to, take your skin off, anything.

It's just a cut.

You move your hand away from the wound, blood is still coming out, but you don't care. You grab the knife, careful not to let it slip through the red fluid, and keep cutting.

It's just a cut, a few cuts, many cuts.

You stop when you get dizzy and lose your balance, drop the knife on the floor and miraculously you don't fall with it. You lean against the wall behind you and watch as the floor fills with your dripping blood. It's too much, too much, oh God, now you're going to die, aren't you? Is that what's going to happen?

You deserve to die, or at least you convince yourself of it, you're just a useless entity in Fyodor's house, what other function do you do here besides pursuing him? It would be like a punishment for being so selfish, for loving Fyodor so much.

Sometimes it surprises you how much you hate yourself just because you are you. Would you hate Fyodor the same way if he were like you? You don't even need to think about it, you already know the answer.

You hear footsteps outside the bathroom. Of course, you made some noise when you dropped the knife and almost fell yourself in the process. Fyodor had to notice, wait, that meant that Fyodor was paying attention to you and the noises you were making. He could just stay absorbed in his work, but no, he's here now.

Three soft knocks on the door are enough to make you tremble.

"Everything okay?"

You cry the instant you hear his voice, yes, there's the soft Fyodor. You recognize hints of tenderness and concern in his voice., you can recognize it.

You shouldn't have cut yourself off, now you change your mind and you don't want Fyodor to see you this way, weak and unbearable. If he realizes that you can't live without him by your side, you're sure he'll leave you, that you'll be too annoying for him and he'll go back to being his old self, this time forever, or until he gets rid of you, until he finds someone better than you. That would be easy.

If there is a God up there, you beg him to let you die. There is no answer. You're left to face your actions alone.

"I've done a stupid thing…"

You still have time to think better of it, you can still barricade yourself in the bathroom and die there. But these are your actions, your consequences.

You shakily open the door.

The look on Fyodor's face is one you've never seen, that keeps you from lowering your head with shame. You've never seen so many emotions in him, all at once, like a whirlpool.

Have you been able to generate that? You don't know whether to consider it a good or bad thing, but a flow of pride runs through your veins.

Fyodor whispers your name, breathless, his accent thickening even more. A part of you actually believed that what you did to yourself would not affect him in any way, how foolish, of course it would affect him. He is human, you are human, but still something tells you that Fyodor is anything but human. His eyes now show you otherwise.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot! I didn't mean to bother you."

Fyodor takes only a few seconds to drag you back into the bathroom. He turns on the sink faucet and guides your arm down the stream of water. It hurts like hell, but complaining doesn't even cross your mind, after all, Fyodor probably stopped doing something important just to cure your mess, you can't give him any more trouble.

Your mind would like to escape your body, but you don't let it because without it you wouldn't be able to feel Fyodor behind you, pressing his chest against your scarred back.

As he runs a soaked towel against your cuts, you decide to lean against him, he doesn't push you away, and you take it as a small victory.

Your brain won't let you enjoy of the moment, giving you reminders of everything the Russian had done to you: the scars on your back, all over your body, the agonizing nightmares, the silent and devastating nights. All a fucking reminder, and yet here you are, against his body.

Your thoughts linger in that confined space until your arm is tight between messy bandages. His hand reaches for yours and your fingers intertwine.

You fear his potential annoyance, his potential punishment. He provokes unique feelings in you, and you love him, but he is terrible, he is just terrible.

Fyodor lets out a sigh, and you know instantly that you are selfish. He is tired, he has better things to do besides taking care of a brat, but still he is still with you. Fyodor is such a merciful being when it came to you, he wouldn't be this way with anyone else, only you. You feel your chest tighten with warmth.

"Fyodor…" You don't want to speak too loudly or break the silence in the room. You try to keep your thoughts in the same rhythm as your voice, quiet and low. You need to be okay, for Fyodor's sake.

"Why?" He squeezes your hand. There is no emotion in his voice, and you feel guilty of your disappointment at that. "Why did you do it?"

"I-" The words decided not to come out of your mouth and closed your throat in a knot, a very painful knot.

What were you supposed to say? Wouldn't admitting your need for attention make you sound like a spoiled child? A brat?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." You say hastily, trying to find words to make Fyodor happy, so he won't hate you for your reckless actions.

"You don't bother me." Bullshit, Fyodor is an almost pathological liar, you should know that, it should be burned into your memory. You'd like to believe him. "Is this why you did all this? Because you think you're bothering me?"

You wish the answer was as easy as that. You shake your head.

"Then why?"

"I needed you." It's not a good explanation, there are a lot of loose questions left, but how else can you tell him? Every time you speak, it's like scratching your throat.

"Needed me? You mean my attention?" You nod, feeling a humiliation run down your throat. "I was with you all these days, what more attention do you want from me?"

It's like a stabbing, like the cuts he gave you on your back. It showed, from afar, you were just a pet that can't be away from its owner or it would break into pieces. You shouldn't be crying either, you have no good reason to.

"Hey, no, stop." He turns your body without effort. All you do is keep your head down, full of shame, though it doesn't last long, as his free hand lifts it up and lands against your cheek. You don't deserve it, you can't even stop crying. "What did I say? Why are you crying this time?"

"I'm a spoiled brat." You lean against his cold hand, you needed his touch so badly.

"You're not, you just wanted me to give you attention, that's not a bad thing."

"It is! I'm being selfish." The sobs interrupt you, and you close your eyes, you don't want to look at Fyodor. How can you ask for love and attention from Fyodor when you yourself don't know how to love properly?

"Selfish? Why?" Your reason that the only reason for his question is to make you humiliate yourself, to make you admit that you are a nuisance.

"B-Because you were probably busy, I'm just bothering you trying to get your attention…"

"I want you to pay close attention to me right now, can you do that?" Even if you couldn't do it, you would anyway. You're not lying when you nod in response. He's all you can think about and fixate on, everything else is ephemeral and useless, nothing else is needed for you.

"Good... You don't bother me, I understand you want more attention from me, I made your mind that way anyway. Stop feeling bad about doing things you're programmed to do." Hearing him admit that, is like a war in your head, you should care that Fyodor played with your mind like a stuffed animal, but what you should is not the same as what you do. It feels like a relief to know that it is Fyodor is causing it all, and it's nicer than you ever imagined.

Your mind will never go back to normal after this. You will never be the same after this. That's okay, you can live with it as long as you have Fyodor by your side.

You collapse against him, hugging him with no intention of letting go. He accepts you in his arms. Now everything is warm again like it was that time, you needed it so badly after everything that had happened.

"It's just that you've been acting more distant and I thought-" Do you really want to keep talking and sobbing nonsense? You have no intended trajectory with your words.

You just hope Fyodor understands you, it's the only thing that will give you calm.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, no need to cry anymore, моя крошка." His hands on your back undeniably comfort you. His touch feels like fire, but it doesn't burn, it just leaves a trail of warmth and desire everywhere it passes.

You are a sensitive, desperate mess, and no one knows how to love you but Fyodor. He is the God you have always pleaded to, now you understand why he never granted your wish to die.

"This is strange for me. I've never cared for anyone before, and I really don't want to hurt you unintentionally." And there's your long-awaited why. It's warmer than you could have ever thought, your heart is silently grateful. He's trying, that's good enough for you.

Maybe you can't go back to that first day of care after punishment, maybe you can't go back to that new and gentle Fyodor, but those are things that happen and that's okay.

You nod, oblivious to your own reality, everything feels correct. "I get it, it's okay, yeah. You don't have to worry, I'm fine now."

But you keep crying.

You don't know or need to know how long you stood there, holding each other as if both of your lives depended on it. In total silence until Fyodor's voice broke it. No doubt that's your favorite tune.

"моя любовь, I never responded properly to your confession, did I?" He never did, but he never denied it. There was always a glimmer of hope that you took as the word yes, as total acceptance of your feelings.

You look at him with enlightened eyes, you wished that what your mind was imagining was real.

"I love you too."

Fyodor's love is paralyzing. You notice it now.

my favorite part is the dog part, idk, I like how it turned out

[goldessia]

⋆⋆⋆ ┊ heavens blessing, levi ackerman . . .

warnings: rivals to lovers, bickering/arguments, sad love confession, close-death experience, levi is kind of mean in the beginning

type: flangst ( my fav <3 )

a/n: i made this at like, 3am, so please excuse how horrible it is :’)

MY life was one thing—a fight to the top. a fight to power.

levi ackerman ranked just above me in our cadet training. that second place title killed me.

i used to hate when people compared us. when they said, “she’s only second to levi.” if anything, i loathed it. i should be on top, i should be the captain—but of course, when the time came around, he had two more titan kills than me. now, we are tied.

levi never failed to make it known that he was ranked higher. if anything, he found it amusing that it was he who qualified and not me. and boy, did he abuse his power.

now, levi was walking past us, handing out shift assignments.

“eren, border control.” he moves on, “armin, go meet hanji for the security meeting.” and finally, he stops at me. instead of reading off his clipboard like he did for the others, he places it behind him, and stares straight at me.

“last and very least..” he slants his head, “y/n. stable duty.”

anger envelopes me. “what? you can’t do that! i’m the best soldier here, i’d be much more use out there!”

he clicks his tongue. “ooh, that’s where you’re wrong.” he leans closer, “you’re second-best. remember?”

i grumble. “just because you ranked above me—by, might i remind you, two kills—doesn’t mean you can just push me around. i’m still the best solider here, ranking or not.

“and i have a feeling you’re just putting me on stable duty so i don’t have a chance to pass you in kills.” i spit.

he takes a deep breath, and leans toward me. his eyes are almost frightening—cold, icey and direct. i want to shrink under his stare, his posture, his very aura.

“you’re right.” he says, “i do rank above you. and you know what that means?” his eyes narrow. “that means i can do whatever the fuck i want with you.”

i open my mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

“do you want another week of stable duty? because i can do that. talk back to me again, and you’ll face the consequences.”

my jaw clenches in anger. my eyes glare into his, but both him and i can tell i’m losing this battle.

“you got it?” he says. when i don’t respond, he repeats himself. “do you understand, soldier?”

i murmur a “yes, captain.”

“louder.”

“yes,” i inhale, before spitting out the word—“captain.”

“say it nicer.”

something inside me snaps, “no. you know what?” i push him back, “i’m done. give me stable duty, at-least it will keep me away from you, and your sadistic, weirdo self.”

with that, i storm away. a little childish, i agree, but i knew if i stayed any longer i’d argue with levi until the sun set. at-least i get a break, today.

behind me, i hear a few of the new soldiers defending me. they say things like, “don’t you think that was a bit far, levi?” or, “i kind of agree, her skills would be useful out there..” but they were instantly shut down by levi.

— - mid-night . . approx. six hours later.

i felt disgusting. after hours of working in the stables, a long, hot shower was just the thing i needed. i wrung the water out of my hair, and since it was around eleven pm i knew everyone would be asleep. so, i threw on my pyjama’s, and stepped out of the shower corridors.

i wanted to murder levi, consequences be damned. he never failed to make an absolute fool out of me. one day, i swore i’d get him back.

as i turned the corner, my heart stopper in my chest when i saw a figure in-front of me, but it was too late—i had already collided with them.

“huh—! watch it—“ levi cuts himself off when he realises it’s me. “oh. what are you doing here?”

“uh, crazy concept, but i also live here.” i spit. his eyes narrow, before travelling over me, head to toe and back to my face.

“lights out was an hour ago. you shouldn’t be out here.”

“that’s why i was trying to get back to my room, before you rudely got in my way.” i say. he blinks. “so.. move.”

the corner of his lip snags up. “say please.”

i scoff. “you’re such a prick,” i spit, pushing past him. before i can keep walking, he roughly grabs my arm, stopping me.

“remember who’s in control here, y/n.” he says coldly, “or, did you forget all of your training?” he tuts, “you have to be dismissed before you can walk away from your superiors.”

“eat shit, ackerman.”

“that’s captain levi to you.”

i rip my arm from his grasp. “you’re too cocky for your own good.” i turn to face him, “from now on, ranking or not, you need to learn to respect me. i can just as easily surpass you.

“you’ll need to get used to calling me captain l/n. just a matter of time, if you keep up with abusing your power just to mess with me.”

“tough chance.” he says with a slight chuckle, “goodnight, y/n.”

“off yourself.”

with that, i spin on my heel and stalk away from him.

— - the next day . . dawn

i was ready for another day of stable duty. if anything, i was kind of happy to spend another peaceful day with the horses. i was prepared for it.

“yeah, about that.” levi says. this time, he isn’t looking at me, but at the ground. “erwin..” he grits, “insisted you come on the mission today. said that.. your skills would be useful.”

my brows raise. a small smile finds my lips. “what was that? sorry, i couldn’t hear you. something about.. how i’m skilled?”

“i’m not repeating myself.” he snarls, “get your gear, and meet us by the gate. don’t be late.”

he stalls away like an angry child who didn’t get his favourite toy. i chuckle, and walk toward the supply room.

i meet the rest of them by the gate. the line consisted of a few of the rookies—eren, reiner, connie, and jean, and beside them, hanji, erwin and levi, who’s holding the reins to a horse beside him which i suspect is mine.

with a tall chest, i walk toward levi. “i believe that’s mine.”

he spares me one look, before making a tch sound with his lips, throwing the reins toward me.

hanji briefs us a look, before whispering in a not-so-subtle voice, “are you sure it’s a good idea to pair them together? i don’t think the rookies need to hear their bickering all day.”

levi’s head snaps toward them, “we don’t bicker.”

“yeah. he’s just a pain in my ass most the time, that’s all.” i say with a smirk.

he looks to me. “if anything, you’re the thorn in my side. always needing saving, always complaining-“

“uh—! name one time i’ve ever needed your saving. and i don’t complain!”

“uh, let’s see, two days ago?” he deadpans.

“that was not saving—“

“yeah. you definitely don’t bicker.” jean chuckles.

“shut up, rookie!” levi and i say simultaneously. we look to each-other, opening our mouths to speak before erwin cuts us both off.

“today, you two. are you forgetting we have responsibilities? your flirting can wait till later.” erwin says, pulling the reins so his horse turns.

my face heats up. “we’re not flirting!” we say together again.

“stop saying what i say.” levi narrows his eyes.

“you’re saying what i’m saying!”

“you were given an order.” erwin’s voice hardens. erwin wasn’t usually too hard on us, but his patience can only stretch so far before it snaps.

i look down, and mutter a, “sorry, sir.”

he nods, just once. “good. now, we have a mission to get to.”

“yes sir!”

— - approx. one hour later . .

titans were all around us, at every angle. a huge herd just appeared out of no-where while we were travelling to the next way-point, and thank god we happened to be passing through a city.

levi and i were together, like usual, and we had all split up into groups of two. and like usual.. we made it into a competition.

“i bet you two training days i’ll kill more than you.”

“hah—! you got yourself a deal.” levi says, before turning and zipping away from me.

ahead of me were two ten-meter titans—easy money. i press the blade, zipping toward them, manoeuvring away from their hands and slicing my blade across his nape. it falls to the ground with a loud thud, and i lock my line to the second ones nape.

THUD.

. . . five titans later, i had gotten a bit carried away. i didn’t realize i was using so much gas, and that my blades were on their last pair.

shit, shit, shit! is all i can think as i race faster away from the five-meter titan right on my tail. i was dead, so dead. i had run out of gas, and i realised before i could think i had reached a dead-end. my leg is slashed from when i fell, and my run is looking more like a desperate limp.

the titan was closing in on me. i turned, scanning the area for something i could do, but that was it. i was cornered. there was no running.

the titan crouches in-front of me, and for the first time in my life i was truly, rawly scared. the titans never scared me when i was a kid, or a cadet, but now..

the titan’s mouth was curled into a horrifying smile. it’s eyes were bulging, hands and chin covered in blood from a previous city’s massacre.

this was it. as i was lifted off the ground, i accepted my fate. my eyes moved toward the sun. i didn’t want the last thing i’d look at to be it’s face.

huh. i never noticed how warm the sun was. i guess i should’ve appreciated nature a bit more. i would have, if i knew this was the day i was going to die.

it’s mouth opened. i could smell it’s foul breath, smelling of human flesh.

i guess you win, levi. just this once.

SHING!

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER!”

SLASH.

i fell to the ground. my back slammed against the pavement, and i cried out in pain. my head was fuzzy, mostly from the fall.

i hear the wind in my ear as i am picked up, and the sound of metal whipping as i’m brought to the roof.

my vision focuses when i am placed down on a roof. oh. it’s levi. he is speaking, but i can’t really hear him that well.

“damnit, damnit!”

his hands are on my face. his eyes are scanning me for injuries. why is he doing that? why does he care..

“fuck, please be okay, REINER, OVER HERE!”

“SAY SOMETHING!”

oh. now i can hear him.

i wince, my eyes fluttering as they focused on levi’s face. no, that can’t be levi.. why is he crying? levi wouldn’t cry.

“what happened?” i register it to be reiner’s voice, and i turn to him. i push myself up, crying out from the pain in my back, my head. i touch my hand to the back of my head, looking at the blood on my fingers.

“it’s alright, it’s nothing, i’m fine—!”

two arms are wrapped around me. clutching me tight. daring to never let go.

levi.. is hugging me.

“god damnit.. you idiot! what were you thinking?!”

“you’re.. hugging me.” i mean to say in my head, but i say out-loud by accident.

he pulls away, grasping my face in his hands. his hands are shaking. “don’t you ever do that again. you hear me?! i’ll give you damn stable duties everyday if you don’t smarten up!”

“i- you— i can’t promise i won’t—“

“nearly killing yourself over a stupid bet, really?! i can’t believe you—“

“levi.”

“out of all the stupid, idiotic, irrational things you’ve done—“

“levi—“

“seriously! if i didn’t get here when i did, you’d have been dead, and over what? an unsettled—“

“LEVI!”

“what?!”

i pant, placing a hand on his shoulder. “stop. fucking. talking.”

he stares at me for a second. then, a smile cracks on his lips. then a laugh. “i love you so fucking much.”

copr. goldessia. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, share on other platforms without credit/permission.

[epic-kotlc-crossover]

Mutiny 2.0

mutiny!!! once again :D

@thesfromhms @sombrathedragon @myfairkatiecat @imnotskyguy-remake @bookwormgirl123

@ham-cheese-toastie @justalunaticfangirl

"Tell me you didn't know that would happen," Keefe could feel the guilt pouring off of Fitz, but what scared him most was the resolve hiding underneath. Almost like Fitz didn't regret it.

No one knew what the sirens said to the captain, only that they'd given a route home. If Keefe had known why Fitz had been so secretive...

Maybe his friends wouldn't have died. If he'd asked one more question. If he'd known the monster they'd face. Maybe he could've stopped this.

"Look me in the eyes, Fitz." He wouldn't look away from the ocean, so Keefe stepped forward. "Tell me you didn't just give up six of our friend's lives, Fitz, please."

Fitz gripped onto the side of the balcony tighter. The guilt welled up even higher, taking Keefe's breath away.

"SAY SOMETHING!" He shouted, hating how his voice cracked.

Finally, this seemed to get a reaction from Fitz, who spun around, giving Keefe his first real look at him since Scylla. His hair lay stuck to his face, artfully messy in a way Keefe couldn't help but admire; his eyes were darting everywhere, almost wild-looking, but the teal still took Keefe's breath away.

He was always so effortlessly handsome.

"I CAN'T!" Fitz's scream cut through his thoughts and shattered the silence.

Keefe swallowed, and the lump was almost painful. He drew his sword, determined to protect the last few men he had with him.

"Then you have forced my hand." Fitz seemed to pale, which at any other time Keefe would have found hilarious. The consequences of your actions... He smothered a snort.

"Keefe..." his voice was quiet, nervous, and his emotions radiated it too. "Lower your weapon."

What did Fitz think Keefe was going to do? He'd willingly let six people die. Keefe couldn't let that happen again.

"You miss Sophie so bad you're willing to kill." Keefe spat out Sophie's name like it was poison-she was a great person, sure, but worth sacrificing people? No.

A hot flash of anger erupted from Fitz. Of course.

Fitz drew his own sword. "I don't want to fight you! You would do the same if you were in my position."

Keefe adjusted his grip on his weapon, his palms feeling sweaty. "If you want to make all the choices you get to have all of the blame!" He lunged at Fitz, slashing a cut through his clothes.

How am I supposed to trust you now? Keefe thought as hard as he could, wondering if Fitz's telepathy actually didn't work or he was lying.

The captain seemed to flinch, though that might have been from the cut.

Fitz advanced forward. "Keefe, you need to move because you are not getting in my way." With each flash of their swords Keefe could feel himself get more and more lightheaded as Fitz's guilt seemed to melt away, hiding itself into something smaller. Fury and determination grew in its place.

Keefe lunged forward, and in an attempt to block Fitz's sword, he moved forward too far and it cut through his clothes-and, Keefe realized with growing horror, embedded itself in Fitz. Fitz let out a loud, horrible scream, and staggered back.

A huge wave of pain rushed through Keefe's blood and he immediately kneeled next to him.

"No, no no," Keefe muttered, and yelled behind him. "Do any of you know how to clean a wound?"

No one answered, so he yelled at them to find the nearest island. He needed to help Fitz. He was furious at him, but he was still his friend.

He turned around, trying to ignore Fitz's body, and called for all the crew to dock at the nearest island-they were running low on food.

In a few hours, they'd found one, with hundreds of bright red cows dotting the landscape. When they landed, Keefe told everyone to stay on the ship while he scoped it out.

After a few minutes, he'd decided that it seemed generally safe, though he still couldn't find a single human soul that he could ask to give Fitz come help.

Next to him, a cow mooed.

Keefe could feel his stomach growl.

"Where are we?" asked Fitz, and Keefe jumped, hating himself for letting Fitz sneak up on him. Turning around, Keefe saw that Fitz was being supported by two of the crew members, his dark brown hair frizzy across his face and his signature smile a little wobbly.

Keefe wanted to make a comment about how he shouldn't be standing up but kept his mouth shut.

"We're on an island-the first we found." Keefe turned to him, forcing a grin on his face even when he felt the huge amount of pain Fitz was in.

He kind of deserves it, though. A tiny part of his brain reminded him. Because of him, six people are dead.

Fitz pointed to one of the cows, talking to him almost like Keefe hadn't nearly killed him hours before.

"These are Apollo's cows, you see that statues over there?" Keefe could barely hear him, fingering the grip on his sword. How long could one cow feed the crew?

At least a week, and they'd be actually full for the first time in a while.

A wave of panic coursed through his veins, and he snapped his head over to Fitz.

"Please don't tell me you're doing what I think you're doing." Fitz told him. "These cows-they're sacred. We can't kill them."

Keefe laughed, a sad, quiet laugh. "Fitz, you know as well as I do that we're never going to make it home."

Fitz shook his head quickly, and placed his hand on his sword again. "You don't know that, Keefe." He stepped back, and Keefe quietly missed the proximity. "This is the home of the sun god, do you know what will happen if we kill his cows?"

He ignored Fitz, and quietly unsheathed his sword. "How much longer do we need to suffer, Fitz?" Taking a step forward, He heard Fitz's panicked voice behind him, asking him to stop.

"How much longer until you decide that we're not important enough to go home? How much longer until you decide that you want to see Sophie so badly that all of us have to die?"

Fitz flinched, and Keefe took the opportunity to kill the cow, and Fitz let out a yell.

"What have you done?" Keefe spun his head around at the terror in Fitz's voice and in his veins. "You've doomed us all, Keefe! The cows were immortal-the sun god's friends! Who do you think he'll send now that you've killed one?" Keefe's blood turned to ice.

What had he done?

Fitz staggared up to the ship, but Keefe quickly scooped him up and sprinted onto the ship.

"Everyone, grab an oar and row as fast as you can!" Fitz roared.

The entire crew did as they were told, with punctuated with shouts of "Faster!" coming from Fitz, until a clap of thunder came and pure terror radiated off of him, his face turning deathly pale.

"We're too late."

[writing-havoc]

I can't STOP thinking of an idea for inej ghafa x fem!reader so here you go (let me know if I'm freaking you out or if I need to stop, please!). i've read several kaz fics where he gets jealous of r very close relationship with some crow, so imagine that except with inej, where r is kaz's childhood best friend and they are a duo in the eyes of practically everyone (some even consider them a couple). r and inej have been mutually interested in each other for a long time, but r doesn't do anything because she's afraid of the consequences if the information gets out and inej doesn't try anything because she's in doubt whether r likes girls the way she (inej) does. maybe after a heist gone wrong r narrowly escaped death and now inej can't stop thinking about what could have happened if something worse had happened and r had died so the two talk privately and both admit what they feel one for the other. I can't get this idea out of my head and now I want to know how you would write about it. love inej and would like to see more of her point of view on her. oh, it would also be really nice if there was a spotlight on the platonic kaz x reader relationship. something like "we have a problem" and "no you have a problem, I have a problem friend". I imagine too much kaz rolling her eyes at every involuntary sigh of r for inej and at the end when r goes to tell her and inej getting together, kaz just like: "really? and the sky is blue?" but secretly glad her friend and the wraith are together. just inej and r being crazy about each other and kaz turning a blind eye (no romantic feelings for either of course)ssalto que deu errado r escapou por pouco da morte e agora inej pode ' t parar de pensar sobre o que poderia ter acontecido se algo pior tivesse acontecido e r tivesse morrido então os dois conversam em particular e ambos admitem o que sentem um pelo outro. Não consigo tirar essa ideia da cabeça e agora quero saber como você escreveria sobre isso. amo inej e gostaria de ver mais de seu ponto de vista sobre ela. ah, também seria muito bom se houvesse um destaque na relação platônica kaz x leitor. algo como "nós temos um problema" e "não, você tem um problema, eu tenho um problema amigo". Imagino demais kaz revirando os olhos a cada suspiro involuntário de r para inej e no final quando r vai contar pra ela e inej se reunindo, kaz tipo: "sério? e o céu tá azul?" mas secretamente feliz por sua amiga e o fantasma estarem juntos.

Fist bump

♡ Summary: Inej contemplates whether her feelings for you are reciprocated. A nearly fatal injury throws all apprehensions out the window.

♡ Pairing: Inej Ghafa x Fem!Reader, Kaz Brekker x Reader (platonic!!!)

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Gunshot wound, says y/n three times

♡ WC: 5.4k

Hello!!

Thank you for the request. It was nice getting to write for Inej again. While I've only written for her once before, I feel confident that I'm closer to getting her character right

Kaz is slightly ooc imo. But I feel it comes with the territory of him actually having a lifelong friend instead of being completely alone. So be prepared for that!

Hope you enjoy it regardless <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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"What the hell am I looking at?" You ask, frozen in place.

Kaz sighs from somewhere deep within his throat, tone riddled with annoyance. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Inej takes a moment to stare. Her mouth might be open as she squints at the scene, but that's... the least of her worries.

Jesper and Wylan were currently flirting with eachother on the ground floor of the Crow Club, not even at any specific game. Every once in a while pieces of their conversation would float to her ears, and it was just plain horrible.

It's honestly surprising. Jesper has no problem attracting anybody of any gender, but with the way he's talking to Wylan right now she finds it truly unbelievable that Jesper was able to pull anybody at all.

What's even more unbelievable was that Wylan was actually enjoying it.

Seduction tactics don't really interest Inej. But even she is able to distinguish between a good and bad pickup line.

The moment she hears something about a fruit she makes it a point to stop listening to them completely.

"Whatever it is they're talking about I don't think its wise for us to listen anymore." Inej turns away, body facing towards you.

"Agreed." You scoff, turning a little towards her too. "I'm not all that into exhibitionism."

Kaz's eyebrows raise. "Surprising."

He's mocking you, which you immediately recognize and shoot a glare at him, knocking your heel into his cane. "Budge off, limpy."

"Oh no. Not my limp. Anything but the limp."

It's really only funny because Kaz isn't bothering to fluctuate his voice at all. It's monotone, and his eyes remain half lidded and he hoists his cane up and brushes off the dirt you got on it.

Inej smiles, holding back a chuckle as she watches the crowd around her, people steering clear if only for the fact that Kaz is nearby.

"Yes, the limp. Your worst fear." You giggle when you watch his eyes roll.

Nina comes in, standing below the railing where you stand, eyes flickering between you and Kaz.

"How are the lovebirds doing?" She jests.

It sends a little pang through Inej's heart.

Your closeness with Kaz has been a topic of interest within the crows since they joined the little inner circle. And it's not all that surprising.

You have known Kaz the longest out of any of them. You were with him when he joined the Dregs, when he climbed his way up the ladder until he became floor boss and when he managed to secure fifth harbor. You even own a share in it, taking the risk and knowing full well Kaz would have gotten it up and running.

He let's you closer than anyone else, his trust intrinsic to the fact that you have been with him through thick and thin. Inej can tell something big happened an your guys' past, small looks shared here and there, pursed lips when someone mentions a niche topic.

But with the way you hang around eachother, when you sigh with a far away look and Kaz wacks your shin with his cane just gard enough that it aches, when you can have a conversation with just a glance, it's only natural that people assume.

"In his fucking dreams." You chuckle. "This lump of coal is my best friend and nothing more, we've told you this."

Nina smirks, looking between you two once more. "You tell me and yet I can sense your heart beating like crazy, my dear Y/n."

Inej watches as you prickle, flustered, but her gazing is interrupted when you turn your body completely away from her, focusing solely on Nina.

"Hearts can lie, Zenik." Inej watches as the smile falters slightly on Nina's face. "There are people who have mastered the art of lying without any spikes in heartbeat because of grisha power. Unrelated, im simply inebriated and just witnessed the most foul and frankly disgusting conversation between Jesper and Wylan."

Nina groans. "Oh don't even get me started on that. They walked right next to me and let me tell you, I learned more about Wylan than I ever needed to know."

And just like that the topic is dropped, but Inej's mind was still gripping it, trying and failing to squeeze any sort of meaning beneath your words.

Because that conversation between those two boys hadn't flustered you in the slightest. You made jokes, voice and posture lacking any semblance of embarrassment.

You like someone. If not Kaz, then someone else. Someone you know. She takes the little hope that bubbles in her heart and gently pours it into a bottle, corking it and putting it away.

Hope is dangerous. But not unnecessary.

She'll look at it later. When she has time to feel what she needs to feel.

"Well that's a delicious specimen." You purr, watching a man in a bright yellow-green suit walk into the club.

Nina looks where you do, Inej and Kaz following your gaze.

"5." Is all Nina says.

"James Denker." Kaz relays. "Dirt poor, dressed in an attempt to impress."

"Ugly suit color." It wasnt, but it clashed horribly with the reds and blacks the club adorned. He stood out like a sore thumb.

You groan. "You're all the worst."

"We're simply saving you from having the worst time of your life." Nina downs a glass being cleaned up, Rotty taking it back once it was dry. "Speaking of, I need to go find Matthias."

"To torture him?" You lean into the railing, resting your head in your open hand.

Nina hums. "Torture is not on the menu tonight."

Kaz rolls his eyes, immediately leaving to go elsewhere as Nina strolls away, off to find her burly boyfriend.

You stay planted exactly where you are, looking out at the little tide pool of people rolling dice and flipping cards.

"Everyone's so obsessed with sex today." You remark.

Inej raises a brow. "You literally just called a man a 'delicious specimen'."

You chuckle. "I wasnt actually going to do anything. I would never go for a man dressed like an unripe lemon."

She hums, coming to rest her hands on the rail next to you. Out of the corner of her eye she sees you begin to track someone, a smile pulling at your lips. She follows your gaze, and sees a women in a dark blue dress, low a-line revealing her stomach. A feather boa rests on her shoulders, a matching dark blue bandana pinning her hair back in a mass of curls.

"Men tend to have the worst fashion taste."

Inej looks at you, your face relaxed and pupils wider than she's ever seen them.

The girl comes up to the railing, looking up at you. You give her a toothy smile, allowing her to take your hand and give it a kiss.

It squashes her heart and shocks it all at once.

You're so gentle with the woman below, who introduces herself as Femke, at it pains Inej that it's not her, but also uncorks that bottle she had just put away and pours it all over her.

She feels it in her hands, the way her eyes avert as you giggle at eachother with your hand in the safety of your pocket, the way her feet want to run and jump between the highest rooftops.

Kaz was incredibly right. Hope is dangerous.

"I have to go, but it was lovely conversing with you." You say politely, giving Inej a look she knows is begging you to follow her.

She does so, taking an alternate route out of club, pulling up a mask and throwing the hood of her tunic over her head.

She heads out a side door, melding into the shadows of an alleyway as she begins to scale the side of the building, fingers still electrified. Balconies become footholds and launching points and gutters become ledges to hoist herself up.

You're a bit further behind, but not terribly. You opt for a ladder placed on the back of a building two addresses down. You hop along the top of the curved rooftops, bouncing between the dormers and sliding down gabled edges whilst Inej followed, a grin pulling her mask up until you both reach a flat roof.

The view below is rather pretty compared to the rest of the Barrel. The distance you had crossed places you closer to East Stave, the wide canal full of boats and gondolas.

Lamposts were beginning to turn on, the lamplighters going around and lighting them. People began to bunch up, drawing their coats around their shoulders.

She looks at you, then. Worn out, the thinnest sheen of sweat making you glow. She wants to know just how warm you are.

She stays where she is.

"You're rather popular tonight." Inej begins, biting the topic in the ass.

"Hm?" You ask, catching your breath. "Oh, Femke. I guess."

Inej quirks a brow. "It didnt go as planned?"

You chuckle. "You were standing right next to me, Inej." Her name sounds like sweet treats her parents used to get her coming from your lips.

"The moment felt private."

"Femke was pretty, yes. She was... fucking gorgeous." You laugh, a kind of manic one when you remember her features. "But I couldn't be with her even if I wanted to."

Your face turned a little more solemn, eyes glancing around Inej's face.

"I'm sure she would have agreed to a night together if you showed interest."

"Thats not the problem. But thanks for the vote of confidence." You turn away, hopping onto the edge of the roof, hanging your legs off the side.

She walks to the edge, prefering to stay where she could quickly flee, hands resting on the concrete. "Do you want to elaborate?"

She hopes you'll say yes. Hopes you'll let her in.

You swing your feet, lip sucked between your teeth as you tear off the skin.

"I have... a rather quiet appreciation for the attractiveness of women." You say, staring out at the open street full of people. Inej cannot help but think of how romantic this all could be, if the day had been different. The topic lighter. Your words bobble around in her mind relentlessly. "Aside from the fact that me being with someone could compromise their safety, women get enough people who will yell how pretty we are with the caveat that they'll hurt us if we take it negatively in any way. I wanted my love for women to be quieter, out of personal experience, but there all the same."

It feels like Inej's mind is playing tricks on her, some sort of intoxication manifesting in auditory hallucinations. But when you look at her out of the corner of your eye, mouth upturned so perfectly, she knows in her wildest dreams she couldn't have thought of something even half as stunning.

She looks where you were just looking, seeing parades of men with their arms slung around eachother stumbling down the road, women hooking their arms through the other and talking quietly into the others ear, families tugging their kids close and loners standing on the corners of buildings with blunts and cigars resting between their fingers.

She understands. "You've got a beautiful soul."

She'll treasure the way she could hear your shoulders relax, hand coming to rest right next to hers.

-----

"Kaz!! Kaz Kaz Kaz Kaz-"

Inej was startled from her perch in the window when your voice boomed up the stairs, door to the office flying open.

You were slightly out of breath, and your hair was a mess of strands flying in random directions, like you'd been running your fingers through it. Pulling it even.

Kaz didn't seem worried in the slightest though. In fact, she wasn't even sure he recognized you were there until he said, "What is it now, Y/n?"

"We have a problem."

"No we don't. You have a problem. I have a friend who is obsessed with making them." He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to set down the pen from his hold. "What happened?"

Your lip wobbled, and Inej was quick to tag it as fake when you threw yourself into the lonely chair that sits across from Kaz's desk, body melting into it. "There's no more Kvas."

He sighs. "Of course there isn't." His fingers find the bridge of his nose, pinching it just slightly.

"We had four bottles left yesterday." Inej notes. "Was there some sort of celebration?"

"No. All jobs that took place yesterday, while necessary, wouldn't have warranted a celebration like that. I'll order more tonight."

Immediately you brighten, face splitting open as you hop up from the chair, a giggle spilling from your lips. "Thank you Kaz!"

"What's the ocassion?" Inej asks. Her heart stutters when you turn that wide grin towards her.

"Remember that businessman Kaz had you spy on a few days ago?"

That got both her and Kaz's attention, the both of them staring at you. "I do."

"Well, I happened to run into him today and had a chat with him when I realized he was wearing a pocketwatch of the same type that my father used to wear." The mention of your family only makes Inej more interested.

You and Kaz never talk about where you came from, not unprompted anyway. The only tidbits of information that Inej has been able to scrounge up and overhear was that your family was very close friends with Kaz's, and that both of your parents, judging by how you talk about them, are either dead or too busy to bother contacting you.

"And this is meant to mean... what? Exactly?" Kaz prompts, a bit of caution dripping from his tone.

"I'm getting to it! Anyway, we had a rather long conversation about it and how useful they can be. Which of course led into talk about businesses and meetings and the such- he mentioned that there was about to be a huge rise in, like, 4 different stocks because of something going on over in Ravka. I have it written down, um, here!"

You root around your jacket, taking a card out of one of your inner pockets and handing it to Kaz. Inej stood up and walked over, taking a look at the writing.

There 5 stocks written down in your own messy scrawl, the card itself being the man's business information. One of the stocks she recognized as being really low from when Kaz talked about it the day she had to spy on him.

"I also managed to nab his wallet. You would not believe the stuff this guy keeps in here. There's a deed and tons of other interesting things." You take a wallet from your pocket, leaning forward and dangling it in front of Kaz's face.

He grabbed it from you, opening the leather receptacle.

"Aren't I just the greatest bff you could ask for?" You posed, going out of your way to exaggerate each one, sending a wink Inej's way when she eventually made eye contact with you.

"Annoying, is what you are." Kaz remarks.

You two were incredibly confusing sometimes. He treats you differently than he would everyone else. You make fun of him and tease him and get closer than anyone would dare, and he takes all of it in stride, turning your teasing right back on you, pulling you around by your waist with his cane when you particularly annoy him or when you're about to run into something.

But maybe that's just a statement of your friendship. In a way, Inej doesn't think anyone will ever be able to get so deep beneath Kaz's walls like you have. Kaz deserves to have that someone that he can just be who he is around. There's some semblance of a boy within that bloody battered exterior.

And who better to bring that out than you? The person who came here with him and who holds so much compassion that it's truly a wonder it hasn't been beaten out of you yet? You hold a certain appreciation for life that brings a balance to the apathy Kaz likes to exhibit and uplifts others.

It makes Inej remember the little moment last night. The way you looked so calm and the way the lights of the lampost made your skin glow.

You... you really like girls. And it makes Inej feel so giddy and hopeful. It translates as a smile that you return.

Kaz sighs. "Inej, I need you to return this once I look at everything."

She glares at him. "We've talked about this."

"Dearest Inej, will you please return this once I'm done?"

"Can I come?" You ask.

"Unfortunately for you, no." Kaz gives you a glance. "Youre needed with Jesper and I after I do this."

Your eyebrows snap together, mouth opening to say something before the whole expression fades into realization. "Oh yeah." You drag out the words. "For that thing near the lid."

Kaz neglects to answer, still going over everything in the wallet. He pulls out a few bills of kruge, which he immediately stows away into his shirt pocket. Everything is taken out and placed methodically around his desk, any wet papers being skillfully avoided.

"That thing is a ten thousand kruge job. So you better remember what it is."

There's a silence for a few moments, your wide eyes trailing towards Inej. She shrugs, and you cup your hand around your mouth, a stage whisper exiting your lips. "I don't remember."

Kaz drops the wallet, scratching his chair against the floor as he says "of course you don't, filthy lovebird" and walks to a drawer in a dresser, pulling out a blueprint.

'Lovebird.' Inej thinks the same time you whine out an 'I'm sorry' but Kaz ignores it, shoving the paper into your hand. You quickly unroll it as Kaz starts going over the plan once more, eyes flickering to find the starting point.

"It's simple. You will use your curse of an ability to start conversation with complete strangers and distract the guard at the west point by asking for a bathroom..."

Inej remembers this. Kaz had briefed her for it as well before realizing her presence, for once, wasn't all that necessary. You were acting strange that meeting, half of it you were off staring into space at Inej.

She remembers her collar feeling a little stiff, heat making her sweat under your gaze.

Kaz ended up sighing and knocking the metal head of his cane against your forehead, making you yelp. He had to go over the plan again, Jesper laughing at your pouted lip.

"I don't need anything else from this wallet." The conversation fades back into focus. "The kruge and the stock card are all I need. Inej." He holds out the wallet to her, which she takes and immediately pockets it.

"How long will you be gone?" She asks, eyes flickering to you.

"No more than four hours." Kaz stands and takes his cane, heading to the coat rack to collect his outer wear. He gives you a stern glare. "If everything goes according to plan."

Your eyes roll, landing on Inej. "No faith. Absolutely none."

"Faith isn't in his vocabulary."

Kaz walks out the door, leaving it wipe open.

Inej expects you to follow, to jog to the door and disappear beyond into the darkness of the staircase with nothing but a 'see ya' yelled at her.

But you turn to her instead, hand rubbing over your stomach as if to quiet it. You wet your lips, her eyes following the movement. She stands a little straighter when you approach.

"No mourners, yeah?" You extend your fist.

Inej smiles, heart beating faster as she tentatively bumps her knuckles into yours. "Yeah. No funerals."

With a nod, you chuckle and leave, leaving Inej alone with her thoughts and a cold wallet pressed into her tunic.

You'll be fine. Jobs like these were routine, and Kaz and Jesper were two people she'd trust with your life any day.

But that doesn't stop the anxiety from bubbling in her gut, acid gnawing at the walls as she leaps out the window.

The chance for something to go wrong is never zero.

-----

They should be, though.

A loud, booming "Move" startles everyone away from the door. People dive out of the way, a cane flashing by their faces as Jesper carries a body down to the makeshift hospital beneath the Slat.

Inejs heart sinks, Nina rushing in after them.

There's only one person that could be.

She hops down the stairs, weaving through people like a needle and thread and swinging the door open with such a force that it bounces off the wall and squeals shut behind her.

"Guys please it's not that ba- OW!"

"You don't get to say it's not that bad when you lost nearly a quart of blood." Jesper hisses, grabbing at his head.

"What happened?" Inej demands, a rumbling in her chest as she does so.

Kaz nearly threw his cane down, chunks of his composure swiftly falling away. "Plan A failed, we had to resort to Plan J."

Inej wants to tug out her braid, to tug his hair out, "Which was?"

"Fucking book it." Jesper slumps into a chair. "Which we did, but one of them got lucky and hit her in quite possibly one of the worst places you can get hit."

Inej starts going through a catalogue of major arteries, sick intrusive images of your neck blown open and chest reduced to a gaping hole shoving their way into her mind.

But that's not the case. You were talking, sitting upright, protesting.

Now you're laid down, your nails carving crescent moons into your forehead as you shove the heel of your palms into your eyes, teeth gritting.

Nina's using her heartrending to look over your hip and thigh area, and Inej realizes the predicament that the novice healer has to deal with.

There's an artery that runs through the inner thigh. If it's hit, it's almost just as deadly as the side of your neck being slit open. The bullet managed to hit within that area, and a tightly bound blood-soaked piece of fabric was keeping pressure on the wound. Probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out.

"It's been nicked. But the bullet seems to still be in you. I'll have to do my best to heal it while also trying to direct it out of your body." Nina doesn't even give you a moment to process it, immediately loosening the fabric.

Blood begins to gush from your wound, and Inej wants to scream.

Jesper follows your lead and digs his palms into his eyes. Kaz stands a good few feet from the table, watching the whole thing unfold. And Inej is...

She walks up to the side of the table, reaching out and brushing her finger through your hair.

"It'll be done soon, yeah?" She asks thought not really expecting an answer, watching your temple flex and your skin turn red as you held your breath. A rough scream escapes your lungs when you open your throat, gulping in as much air as possible before you go back under.

A small tink sounds against the table, bullet out. But Nina is sweating, glowing under candle light as she stitches everything she can back together.

"The bullets out. The only thing you have to do is wait for Nina to be done putting you together again and then you'll be done."

Healing, while ever so helpful, was far from painless. You're speeding up your body's natural process, your skin, muscles, veins being stitched back together on a cellular level.

A highly trained grisha healer could probably numb you while doing so. But Nina is not that.

Inej wants to be mad at her for being so inept when it comes to this. For not having the ability to just repair you with practiced ease and get this over with.

But she can't. She can't be mad at Nina for being who she is.

Instead she's grateful that Nina is here at all. Otherwise you'd be-

Saints, she doesn't want to think about it.

"What went wrong?" Inej asks, taking your hands away from your eyes when beads of blood build on your forehead. "This was supposed to be simple."

You grip her hands tightly. She squeezes them right back, hoping she's providing some sort of relief as she prays for your life.

"Simple doesn't cut it when your intel becomes outdated." Kaz snarled. "They changed the guard postings on the inside. We got found out shortly after retrieving this."

He pulls out a rolled up painting from a tube slung over a chair. It's a landscape of what looks to be from Fjerdan territory looking beyond towards Ravka. The Shadow Fold is missing, and in the distance she can see the artist took some creative liberties and drew the Ravkan palace.

"Supposed to be worth over ten times what we were getting paid for." Jesper uncovers his eyes, opting to cover his mouth and nose. "Doesnt really seem worth it for this."

He glances at Kaz, but Kaz looks at her, and in those dark brown eyes she feels like they come to an understanding. Kaz knows things that Inej hasnt bothered to voice to him outloud. He knows how she feels about you, and is probably just about the only person that on some level could come close to feeling the way she does now.

You're way too important to lose.

Nina let's out a deep breath, hands becoming slower and less steady. "I've got this mostly patched up, but for now the artery is pretty weak. I've got most of the muscles around it to heal to protect what it can but rest and the least amount of movement as possible while I monitor this for the next few days is whats needed."

Inej feels you relax, hands no longer squeezing the life out of her own. Your elbows knock against the table, foot wiggling on your injured leg.

You swallow. "Okay."

Inej has never heard you sound so small, which is surprising.

This isn't your first time getting injured like this, though it has been a long time. But even now she can remember you fighting them every step of the way when you were asked to rest.

Now you're more compliant than ever. You're not even making a move to sit up.

Kaz clears his throat. "Jesper, Nina, out."

Inej can hear Jesper get up from the chair, all too ready to get away from the situation. Nina, however, is less ready to vacate your side.

"I want to check over the rest of her for any other injuries you may have missed in your getaway plan." She places her hands over your head, slowly moving down your body.

"There are no other injuries. It was just the bullet. Out."

Jesper is already up the stairs, probably to find Wylan. She knows he'll come back later, once he's calmed down and can properly look you in the eye after being faced with your mortality. Nina gets down to your feet, and sighs.

"Just wanted to make sure your girlfriend-"

At the same time, you and Kaz state that you're not together. Your voice is a lot sharper than Kaz's, which is enough for Nina to whip around and give you a look.

You're sat up now, propped up on your elbows as you glare at her.

"I would really appreciate it if you stopped pushing us together, thanks."

Your hand squeezes Inej's, and it's like her heart gets zapped with a little lightning.

Nina eyes you for a moment, expression a little hurt but otherwise reserved as she searches for something.

When she looks at Inej, it seems she found it.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth falls into a little 'o' as she backs up. "How could I have missed that?"

Before Inej can silently ask what that means, she's smirking and basically running up the stairs.

Kaz collects his things, then gives Inej and you a nod before following.

The door above clicks shut, and a bound of wild creaking from above tells her that a few people were crowding around the door and waiting for news.

You squeeze her hand again, and Inejs attention is all on you.

"How bad is it?" You ask.

Inej swallows, then looks down. There's a mess of reds and purple around where the wound is. It's smaller than before, skin a little malformed where Nina put everything back together.

"It looks like you got shot."

You chuckle, moving to sit up completely. Inej helps you were she's needed, letting you use her to pull yourself up and position yourself without using your leg.

Silence followed. Your hand was still holding Inej's, your thumb going over rough spots on her palms. Your finger would stop, finding a spot that was particularly rough, and then smooth over it as if you could make it disappear.

"Thank you."

Her brows scrunch. "For what?"

"For staying."

"Of course."

You take a deep breath, exhale coming out shaky. Before Inej can ask what was the matter, you begin talking.

"I like you." You say. "I like you a lot, and I have for a while. Long enough that I can't be in a room alone without automatically looking for even though I know you won't be there. Enough that about half the time when I feel like you're watching me I'm right, and I can pick you out from the crowd."

Inej is smiling. She can feel it on her face, eyes pricking and ears ringing just a bit.

"Kaz has gotten so sick of me talking about you to the point he actually has resorted to knocking his cane against me when I sigh too loudly or when your name comes out of my mouth for the tenth time in a minute." A chuckle comes out of your mouth when you go to rub at a bruise on your shin. "He doesnt mean to be harsh but I think he forgets how solid his cane is sometimes."

She's laughs, the same as you do when she pulls your hand towards her and presses it against her chest, heart saying everything and more.

But words matter too.

"I like you too. For what sounds like just as long as you have. Believe me if I had known you liked girls I wouldn't have let you torture Kaz for as long as you did."

"What do you say? Girlfriends?" You let go of her hand and hold out your fist.

She bumps her fist against yours. "Girlfriends."

She loves the way your eyes brighten.

However, she does not love that the door to the room comes open again.

The distinct sound of metal on wood tells the both of you immediately who it is. While Inej's annoyance only slightly decreases, yours disappears immediately.

"Kaz!"

"Y/n."

"Look!" You gently offer your hand, and Inej slips her fingers between yours, interlocking them. "We're dating. Inej likes me back."

He rounds the corner, looking at the both of your hands. He puts up his shoulders, raising an eyebrows.

"And im actively disabled. Dont waste my time with the obvious."

You chuckle. "Thanks, Kaz."

While Kaz mulls over whether it's worth it to stay down here, Inej helps you off the table, easing your leg down to the ground where it remains limp.

"Oh my saints, twinsies."

Inej looks between you and Kaz. Your limp leg is the same as his.

"If I ever hear you say twinsies again, you will lose me as your friend."

"Impossible."

Kaz takes that as a challenge, and moves up the stairs faster than she has ever seen him go.

As you call out to him to get his ass back here, Inej takes a moment to think about how perfect everything is.

Your leg may be out of commission, but you're happier than she has ever seen you before. You asked her to be your girlfriend, and still you're gentle and wait for permission. She's giggling as you do when you trip a little and catch yourself on the step.

She's so incredibly happy to be where she is today. And even more excited to figure out where the both of you will go from here.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kylie18 @morrigan-crowmwell @venomsvl @milkshake0

[arwenkenobi48]

My thoughts after seeing Ramayana: The Legend of Prince Rama

Rama and Lakshman are the best brothers ever (also Rama literally killed multiple demons with divine weapons as a teenager and that’s honestly more than I accomplished at 15)

Sita has Disney Princess powers

“I will cleave your filthy brain in two!” is not a line I expected to hear from a PG rated movie

Bharata is underrated

Surpanakha needs therapy (and a nose job)

Why is Maricha kinda- 😏

Ravana seriously needs to keep it in his pants (I was mentally shaking his shoulders and yelling “when will you learn that your actions have consequences!?” at him the entire time)

Rama furiously declaring he’ll hunt Ravana to the ends of the universe and then Lakshman just casually telling him to calm down was way funnier than it had any right to be

RIP Jatayu

The sentient mountain turning out to be a demigod literally felt like an NPC side quest in a fantasy RPG

Hanuman is the GOAT

I love how Jambavan just randomly drops the bombshell on Hanuman that he has divine powers, also his voice is weirdly amusing

Hanuman gets swallowed by a sea serpent, then promptly chops the thing up into sushi

Ravana’s giving off vaguely yandere vibes and I’m all here for it

Hanuman introducing himself to Sita with a beautiful song legit warmed my heart so much, he’s so wholesome

Ravana filing his nails while listening to Hanuman’s speech only to be like “kill him” was darkly hilarious

“alright, but set fire to his tail first, then let him go home” Ravana WTH-

Then Hanuman subsequently commits arson and burns down half the city of Lanka (cue the theme from It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia)

I have only known Vibhishana for a minute and a half but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then myself /j

Bridge building montage woohooo

Why do all the rakshasas sound either animalistic or flamboyant?

Speaking of which, there’s no way Indrajit is straight, no man who wears indigo eyeshadow, a crop top, no trousers and knee high boots isn’t at least a little bit bent

“Oh, what a nuisance! This is bothering me!” Ah yes, just how I’d describe being in the middle of a battle between literal demons and very floofy monkeys

Rama’s speech about respecting life was genuinely one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard

Kumbhakarna is the best boi

Kumbhakarna is the best round sleepy boi in the history of everything

His sons were absolute badasses and their deaths made me sad (not at all helped by his heartbroken expression when he found out)

I love how it literally took being waterboarded to wake up this giant

Vibhishana just casually mentioning to Rama that Kumbhakarna would become immortal after sleeping for SIX WHOLE MONTHS

Literally everything about Kumbhakarna is immensely endearing to me in a way I cannot explain, I just wanna smoosh his cheeks and feed him strawberry mochi, also he so ROUND

Kumbhakarna, don’t eat the Vanaras ffs

Kumbhakarna getting increasingly frustrated by the flying demons buzzing around him like mosquitoes should become a meme/reaction gif, purely because of how he yells “yOu ArE aNnOyInG mE!” at them

*two strikes of a divine sword later* NUUUUU MY BABYYYYY 😭

“I wish I’d known him as a friend, Vibhishana” that’s it, happy AU where everybody lives and they’re all besties let’s gooooo *crying inside*

The way Ravana’s voice quakes when he hears he’s now sans a brother 🥺

Indrajit is horrible but I love him

HANUMAN JUST AIRLIFTED A FUCKING MOUNTAIN HOLY SMOKES-

Omgggg an aerial battle this is so cool- INDRAJIT NOOOOO

RAVANA WHERE DID YOU GET AN AEROPLANE???

Yikes, Ravana, you’re really laying on the body horror here 😳

Awww Rama and Sita are together again yayyyy

Yasssss happy ending we love to see it!

Why are they flying to the moon in a glittering gold helicopter???

Basically, I love this movie and everything about it, especially Kumbhakarna 💞

(Also for the record I mean absolutely no disrespect by any of this)

[adzeisval]

Obsession

Ed gets angry with Izzy. Also on AO3.

Ed made his way through the dingy and crowded streets of the Republic of Pirates on his way to a new bar that Jack had found. They were meeting up with Anne and Mary, their ship was docked at the same time for once and they all planned to party until they were too drunk to move. 

Spanish Jackies was taking the Republic by storm, it was the place to be and Jackie was a hoot. 

“There he is! Ed over here!” Mary called out and Ed went over to the table, “There he is at last! Congrats.” 

“On what?” 

“Six years at sea,” Mary said, “You’re an old seadog now.” They all laughed at that though it was a bit of an accomplishment he supposed. He’d seen others not last nearly as long at sea as he had. 

“What is that horrible thing on your face?” Anne asked. 

“Fuck off,” Ed said, “My beard is amazing.” 

Round after round of drinks came to their table as they talked about raids, about their loves, about what they wanted in life. The way Annie and Mary were looking at each other Ed realized they were not only fucking but that it was something serious. He wondered if he would ever have anything like that. 

It would be hard on Hornigold’s ship though. He kept them on such tight leashes. Though Annie and Mary were under Hornigold’s rules as well they were on a different ship and their Captain wasn’t as…intense as Hornigold. 

“Where’s your little dog?” Mary asked at one point. 

“What? The fuck are you talking about?” 

All three were laughing their asses off and Ed looked at them confused. 

“Izzy…” Jack finally managed to say. 

“You gotta…you gotta admit he can yap like one,” Mary said. 

“Hey…” 

“No come on Ed,” Jack said, “He fucking followes you around like a dog too.” 

“He’s fucking obsessed with you,” Annie said. 

“Trailing around like a little dog,” Jack said, breaking out into laughter again. 

“Maybe if you fucked him he’d stop,” Mary said. 

“Nah that would probably make him worse,” Jack laughed. 

Ed wasn’t sure how to react. They weren’t all wrong, Izzy did spend a lot of time around Ed, but they worked together, they were on a small fucking ship most of the time, and Izzy was his friend. 

“Bet you could get Iz to do just about anything for you,” Jack said, “You should make him do something really stupid.” 

“Come on guys leave off Iz,” Ed said. 

They broke out into laughter again and started pointing and Ed turned around to see Izzy walking in. Izzy saw them and walked over and Ed thought that things would get a bit out of hand but he didn’t want it to get worse by leaving with Iz. 

“Hey Iz,” Ed said as Izzy pulled up a chair. 

“Bad news, Captain wants to leave sooner so make sure you’re back on the ship before morning, sorry Hall found me,” Izzy said. 

“What were you doing?” Mary asked. 

“Visiting a friend,” Izzy said. Which was usually what he said when he went to fuck someone of no consequence.

“Maybe if Eddie would take care of you, you wouldn't have to do that,” Jack said and cracked up and so did all the others.

Izzy shook his head, “Drunk bastards.” 

“Come on Eddie, take care of your dog, look how loyal he is,” Mary said. 

“He’d bark if you asked him to,” Annie said. 

“Oh fuck off you guys leave him alone,” Ed said. 

“So he is your dog then?” Jack said. 

Ed slammed his tankard down, “Izzy’s not my fucking dog.” 

They all laughed again and Izzy was frowning. The rest of the group was silent for a little bit then started laughing again. 

“Fuck off Izzy we’ll be back on the ship in time,” Jack said. 

Izzy looked at Ed and the whole group started to laugh again. Ed felt his temper rising and didn’t like what was going on but didn’t want to play in to anything they were doing. 

“Go on Ed, tell your dog he can go,” Mary said. 

“Look at him, waiting for orders….” 

“Ed?” 

“Just fuck off Izzy, leave me the fuck alone!” Ed yelled. The others laughed again and Izzy opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. A blush spread across his cheeks and then he turned to go and Ed thought there might have been tears started to form in his eyes. 

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to hurt Izzy. 

“Come on Ed, another drink before we go back,” Jack said. Ed wanted to leave, wanted to go make sure that Izzy was alright but he didn’t like the fact that his friends would make fun of him for leaving and going after Izzy. 

Ed stayed but he was in a foul mood over the whole thing and annoyed that none of the others seemed to notice that he was in a mood. He was relieved when it was time to go back to the ship and Jack decided to stop and talk to someone and Ed went on. He hoped that Izzy was still awake so he could talk to him.

Ed didn’t see Izzy anywhere on deck so he went below and could tell that Izzy was curled up in his hammock. 

“Izzy?”

There was no reply and Ed sat down beneath the hammock and listened for a while to figure out if Izzy was asleep or not. It did sound like Izzy’s sleeping breathing, it didn’t sound like he was awake. 

“Fuck,” Ed said. He would have to deal with the whole Izzy situation in the morning. 

Izzy was up and working before Ed got up and Ed had a feeling he’d asked to be given duty away from Ed because they usually had at least one chore to do together. Izzy was still mad then and Ed didn’t really blame him.

It wasn’t until the end of the day, when they were back in the bunks that Ed had a chance to talk to Izzy, or at least try. 

“Iz?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it Eddie,” Izzy said and it was good to hear his voice but there was something in it that Ed didn’t like. 

“Alright, night Iz,” Ed said and Izzy didn’t reply.

[whumblr]

Tempting fate

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1. Continuation from Broken night. Still, I feel @painsandconfusion had the easier method...

-

Another night free of Zayne, another night actually not free at all and sitting around in silent misery.

After Jay got home, the collar had been snugly replaced to his throat again, with Zayne just fucking right off, busy doing whatever shady shit he had for the night.

Leaving Jay to steam in his pain alone. And while he was somewhat glad he had no audience to share in his humiliation, he also felt this definitely defeated the point of Zayne’s torture. Like, what was the point in his suffering if there was no Zayne to enjoy it. It was the main reason for his visits. What a point in his life to reach…

He abruptly sat up, fingers crossing over the device.

Oh shit…

Something tickled in his throat. A tickle that quickly evolved to a dry itch. Oh no… He tensed up. If he had a coughing fit now… he’d probably choke to death on electricity.

He pulled at the collar and, to his surprise, found that it gave more than yesterday. But not far enough to separate the prongs from his throat.

But maybe… maybe he could slide something in-between? Creating a little barrier?

As his face turned red trying to keep himself from coughing, he desperately looked around. Scarf, jacket… all cloth which wouldn’t protect him. Books and paper wouldn’t help. Something solid, something that wouldn’t leave him with a coaster plastered to his throat! He looked down -  Leather! – and settled on his own belt, quickly unfastening it with shaking hands and ripping it from its loops.

Then he slid the piece of leather up between the collar and his throat.

His heart leapt. It worked! The prongs settled against the leather and before he could even grab his phone to google a “does leather protect you from an electric shock?????????” he gasped and couldn’t stop a cough.

He squeezed his eyes shut. But… nothing happened.

His eyes snapped open again. Nothing happened!

“Ha!” he tried again in triumph. The little red light winked its activation, but he didn’t feel a thing.

Ohh lord, he did it. He’d found a loophole. His mood instantly brightened. No pain this evening! No abrupt wake-up calls! And if Zayne asked again tomorrow, he could just say he slept ‘like a log’ and it would be true and not a lie and nothing for Zayne to catch him on.

Because, yes, he did in fact wear the collar all night.

He hummed a sassy and defiant “hehe” that taunted fate. He pulled the end of the belt a bit further up to his chin so it wouldn’t slide out, then slung the other end over his shoulder and looped it around his neck. Definitely not something he should be proud of to wear, but he didn’t care. No one was here to laugh at the irony or to yank it tighter.

And he settled back, reached out to his pile of books to read, and snuggled up against the pillows.

-

With last night having been absolutely horrible, he now opted for an early night. A safe early night. He had to be careful not to pull at the belt, but everything was good, and he did in fact sleep like a log.

When he woke, however, he looked straight into the scruffy face of Zayne, who was crouching next to his bed and was staring intently at his face.

“Jesus!” Jay shot back in alarm. And as he realised his mistake, Zayne’s expression lit up with malice.

Oh fuck…

“Ohh, Jay…” The malice on his face matched the tone of his voice. “Mind telling me what this is?” He tugged at the belt. “Because apparently, you can speak. Without consequences.”

“You’re… You’re early,” Jay merely squeaked out, scooting back, drawing his covers up even though the damage had already been done.

“Six a.m. actually, just like yesterday. And like yesterday, I checked up on you, but unlike yesterday, something caught my eye.”

Jay was pretty sure the guy didn’t check up on him because of concern, but still, kindness wasn’t a factor he’d used in his calculations to predict Zayne’s behaviour… He’d fully counted on indifference and was sure he could remove the belt when he’d get dressed after waking up. In hindsight, not the most calculated risk.

He didn’t dare speak. Zayne’s hand fiddled with the belt and he was sure that once a single syllable left his mouth, Zayne would yank the belt away.

But instead, Zayne reached into his pocket and held the little remote in Jay’s face.

“Let’s turn this up to eleven.”

“No, no, no, this is the first transgression! Let’s just… turn it up one level?”

“But how will you learn?” Zayne drawled. “Oh wait…” He lit up and Jay really didn’t like that. “We can either have it on level, what’s it by now? Three… for a week. Or we can turn it up to max just for tonight. Your choice.”

His life choices hadn’t been exactly good these days… But no way was he going to draw this out for another week. Jay sighed. “Max, then. Just for tonight.” At least he’d had a good sleep now. He could do this.

Soft beeps sounded when Zayne kept pressing the button – keeping eye contact – and kept going even when the little black digit didn’t go further up than ten. Then he unlooped the belt from Jay’s neck, yoinked it away from under the prongs, and rolled it up, leaving it neatly on Jay’s folded trousers.

He noticed how Jay deflated in relief when he put the belt away. “Yeah, be glad I’m not giving you the belting of a lifetime while you’re wearing that.”

So glad that he just couldn’t voice his gratitude.

“Get some sleep for another hour or,” Zayne’s grin widened, “you know, maybe make a nice full breakfast to see if you can convince me to take it off for 15 minutes for you to take a shower.”

~Bonus~

Just as Jay was getting ready for bed and settled under his duvet, the front door opened and Zayne let himself in.

“Fuck, it’s cold! Scoot over.”

An icy cold indeed accompanied him as he slid under the covers. But Jay refused to shiver or voice complaints, seeing as the collar was fully active again.

“Oh, right,” Zayne grinned as he didn’t get a response. From under the blanket he reached for his jeans and bleeped the remote for a second to turn it off. “So how was your night, love?”

“Just awful,” Jay whispered, not trusting Zayne enough to turn it back on if he said too much. The max setting had hurt intensely and he was sure there’d be red marks under the collar.

“At least you had a nice warm flat to coop up in. I’ve been standing out in the cold all bloody night.”

“I guess your night didn’t involve arson, then.”

A tense silence rose up and Zayne, laying on his back, softly shook his head. Another bleep plinged and the red light at Jay’s throat turned on again.

“I feel these lessons in silence just aren’t it.”

-

Alt / Bad ending here

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98

[junos-office-drama]

Blue Beard, Red Rose (3.4k, complete)

"And here are the keys to all the rooms in my castle, which you may explore at your leisure — save the great parlor, which you are never to enter."

Rosalind contemplated her new husband, then the heavy ring of keys he had laid in her hand.

"First is the key to my great store room," he continued, pointing to the first key on the iron ring. "And this key will open the chests within, piled high with all the silver and gold and jewels you could ever desire, and this one opens the money boxes, that you might have coin for anything you wish to buy."

She nodded as he counted through the keys: for gates and doors, for trunks and lockboxes, for bedchambers and apartments, for closets and cabinets — for every inch of the castle.

"And this is the key to the great parlor, but you must never unlock it — never even put the key into the lock — lest you incur my wrath."

Rosalind paused, once again contemplating her husband.

He should have been as rich in brides as he was in gold, if not for the feature that had come to define him: the blue beard that sprouted from his chin.

It was not blue the way that old age often fades black into blue, for that was common enough among men of his age, but rather the blue of an evening sky, of a deep lake, of a polished sapphire.

This beard, it seemed, had rendered him so horrible and ugly to both noble lady and peasant girl alike that none would have him, not even when his proposal came with a mountain of gold.

It did not help matters that he had had six wives already, though no one knew what had become of them.

Rosalind did not mind the blue, for he had courted her with kindness, and that mountain of gold promised an escape from beneath her lord father's roof.

Besides, it seemed proper, that she marry a man with as many missing wives as she had failed suitors.

"Do you wish for the key back?" she asked, moving to open the iron ring so that she could slip the key free.

This time, it was Blue Beard that paused, his dark brow settling heavy over his eyes.

"No, you are my wife, and as such you are entitled to all the keys of my home," he answered at last. "But you must never use the key to the great parlor, for if you do, then there shall be dread consequences."

Rosalind simply nodded. "What about the grounds?"

Blue Beard frowned at her. "The grounds?"

She gestured towards the window. "The lawn, and the forest beyond. Are there any restrictions on exploring those?"

"No," he replied, puzzlement crinkling the skin around his eyes. "What interest do you have in the grounds?"

"I would like to have a garden," she said, looking towards the window before turning back towards him. "Like the one I tended at home. May I spend some of your coin on that?"

Blue Beard blinked. "It is our coin, for you are my wife, and what is mine is yours. You may have any plot of land you wish for a garden, and spend as much as you desire in its planting, so long as you do not—"

"I won't." Rosalind rubbed her finger over the little silver key to the great parlor. "But I should like to have a private garden, a space that is mine alone. Will that trouble you, husband, if I am to have a garden as secret as your parlor, that you are equally forbidden to enter?"

After considering her question for a long moment, Blue Beard acceded, for he could see no harm in his wife's request.

In the spring, she planted the hedges. Within that broad square, she planted her flowers: foxglove and forget-me-not, narcissus and nightshade, lilies and larkspur, and roses — red, red roses.

Blue Beard traveled that season, as he always did, and upon parting, he encouraged his young wife to host her friends and family while he was gone, to explore and enjoy the castle to its fullest extent, and to indulge in all the riches and luxury he had to offer — so long as she did not enter the forbidden parlor.

When he returned, there was no sign that any guests had crossed the castle's threshold, nor that his wife had crossed the parlor's threshold.

By summer, the hedges had grown tall and thick as walls, and Rosalind used her husband's hoard of coins to pay for the forging of a solid iron gate for her garden. It spanned the sole break in the hedges, transforming the garden into a stout green fortress.

Blue Beard traveled once more, this time imploring his young wife to bring company to their sprawling estate, to enjoy the castle's drawing rooms and library and galleries, to drape herself in silks and jewels — so long as she did not open the door to the great parlor.

When he returned, the castle was as empty as he had left it, and the parlor door as locked as it had always been, though he noted one small change: a golden key added to the iron ring, nestled next to the little silver one.

As autumn arrived, Rosalind was still occupied with her garden: weeding, trimming, planting, and any other task that allowed her to track dirt into the courtyard, or so it seemed to Blue Beard. He watched her with great interest as she locked and unlocked the garden gate, his mind frequently drawn to the golden key she had added to the iron ring.

Blue Beard traveled again, his last journey of the year, and once more offered his wife the full pleasure of their home: to entertain, if she so pleased; to redecorate, if she so chose; to burn to ashes, if she was so inclined — so long as she did not unlock the door to the great parlor.

When he returned, there was a dark smudge on the little silver key — but it was only mud, tromped in from Rosalind's garden.

A hard frost announced the coming winter, and the end of Blue Beard's travels.

He sat one night in front of the drawing room hearth, frowning as he watched the flames.

"Troubled, husband?" Rosalind asked as she looked up from her embroidery.

"I do not know what to do with a wife in winter," he admitted. "None of the others made it this far."

She lifted a single brow.

"They had all opened the great parlor by now."

"Ah," she said. "Well, I have no need of your parlor. I have my garden."

He rubbed a hand over his beard. "You do not have your garden now, for it is buried under the snow."

Rosalind stabbed her needle back into the cloth she had been embroidering. "I have you now, and you will not travel again until the snow has melted."

"Which begs the question: What does one do with a wife in winter?"

A sly look passed through her green eyes. "I can think of a few things, husband." She tugged on the red floss. "But for now, perhaps you can tell me why you travel so, and why I am so often without a husband."

Blue Beard studied his wife, for it seemed to him an odd question. None of his other wives had ever asked why he traveled; only two had survived to see him off a second time, and only Rosalind had witnessed a third departure.

But Rosalind had welcomed him home a third time without fear, and it was said that magic dwelt in threes.

So Blue Beard told her why he traveled so.

He spoke of the scheming youngest brother, who plotted to usurp his station.

He spoke of the slippery court cofferer, who demanded his palms greased with gold.

He spoke of the savage pirate captain, who roamed the seas and seized his cargo ships.

Rosalind nodded as he spoke, drawing her red floss back and forth through the cloth, until it had formed a red rose.

"Come, then, husband," she said as she set the finished bloom down upon the table. "Let me show you what one does with a wife in winter."

Too quickly, the winter nights passed.

When the sun rose bright upon the spring buds, it was time for Blue Beard to travel once more.

Once again, he bade his wife to invite her favorite company to their castle while he was gone, to host galas and masquerades in their many courts and halls, and to deck herself with gilt and gold until she glittered like the king's crown.

Before he left, Rosalind tucked a pale blue rose into his pocket. "Travel well, husband," she bid him, "and I will greet you happily upon your return."

And when Blue Beard returned weary from his long voyage, she welcomed him with tender arms.

"I journeyed far and wide, across every mile of the countryside," he told her as he slumped into her embrace. "But I could not find my brother, and I fear he will brew great trouble for us."

"Fear not, husband," Rosalind replied. "For I have done as you bade, and invited many guests from far and wide to our home while you were away. Among them, your youngest brother." She paused, and smiled. "I think he shall trouble you no longer, so long as you do not enter my garden."

Blue Beard swore he would not, for though the golden key bore a fresh stain on its bow, its silver twin still lay polished and gleaming upon the iron ring. Instead he kissed his wife upon her pretty cheeks, and led her upstairs.

Some weeks later, when the sun rose hot upon the summer blossoms, it was time for Blue Beard to travel once more.

As he had before, he entreated his wife to host as many guests as she pleased at their grand estate, from noble friend to penniless relation; to make each room of their fine castle her own, to furnish and style as she pleased; and to empty his money boxes of every last pence, if only to lavish herself with gifts.

Before he left, Rosalind tucked a shining yellow rose into his pocket. "Travel safe, husband," she bid him, "and I will greet you sweetly upon your return."

And when Blue Beard returned worn from his long voyage, she welcomed him with gentle arms.

"I scoured every inch of the city," he told her as he fell into her embrace. "But I could not locate the court cofferer, and I worry he will cause fear trouble for us."

"Fear not, husband," Rosalind replied. "For I have done as you entreated, and redecorated the western wing to my tastes. The court cofferer was only too pleased to aid me in my purchases, and to slip a few coins into his own purse as he did so." She paused, and smiled. "I think he shall trouble you no longer, so long as you do not open the gate to my garden."

Blue Beard pledged that he would not, for though the golden key bore a deep gouge in its shank, its silver twin still lay unmarked and unused upon the iron ring. Instead he kissed his wife upon her smooth forehead, and led her upstairs.

The month following, when the sun rose golden upon the autumn harvest, it was time for Blue Beard to travel once more.

As he always did, he commanded his wife to surround herself with those whose company she enjoyed best, to transform their sumptuous castle into her personal paradise, and to spend every coin she might find in his chests and trunks and strong boxes.

Before he left, Rosalind tucked a pitch black rose into his pocket. "Travel swiftly, husband," she bid him, "and I will greet you eagerly upon your return."

And when Blue Beard returned weak from his long voyage, she welcomed him with strong arms.

"I sailed every stretch of the seas," he told her as he sank into her embrace. "But I could not track down the dread pirate, and I fear he will bring great trouble upon us."

"Fear not, husband," Rosalind replied. "For I have done as you commanded, and I have emptied your chests and trunks and strong boxes of every ounce of gold they contained. I have purchased the pirate captain's ship, and bribed him to come ashore." She paused, and smiled. "I think he shall trouble you no longer, so long as you do not unlock the gate to my garden."

Blue Beard promised he would not, for though the golden key had grown tarnished with use, its silver twin still lay clean and bright upon the iron ring. Instead he kissed his wife upon her red mouth, and led her upstairs.

When the sun rose pale upon the frosted lawn, it was time for Blue Beard to rest.

Though he could not rest, for the golden key tempted him, even in his dreams.

Blue Beard knew every inch of his castle, even knew what lay behind the locked door of the great parlor, but he did not know what lay beyond the locked gate of his wife's garden.

"Flowers," she told him, "just like any other garden. Much the way your great parlor, I imagine, contains tables and chairs, just like any other great parlor."

Though it was an answer, it did not quell Blue Beard: for his great parlor held more than tables and chairs, and so in turn her garden must hold more than flowers.

It was the first time, he realized, that he had a curiosity that he was unable to satisfy.

Night after night, the thought gnawed at him, until he could bear its teeth no longer.

On the day that his wife chose to accompany their steward to the market, Blue Beard slipped the small golden key from its iron ring and crept through the snow to the garden gate.

There he hesitated, for there had been vows between husband and wife, and his wife had kept her vow. The thought tugged at him that there might be some terrible price to pay for his indiscretion, much as he had warned his wife of the frightful consequences of violating his own admonitions.

And yet... and yet the golden key gleamed so brilliantly in his hand that he could not but insert it into its lock. With a quick twist of his fingers, the locking mechanism sprung open, and the iron hinges swung inwards.

At first, Blue Beard saw only withered flowers, weighed down by a blanket of crisp snow. There lay the dead and dying stems of foxglove and forget-me-not, of narcissus and nightshade, and of lilies and larkspur.

Further into the garden he trespassed, following the narrow footsteps that his wife had left the day before, until he found himself before a great wall of roses — red, red roses.

The blooms stood bold and crimson beneath the white, as if it were the full height of summer, rather than the deep freeze of winter.

Beneath them, the soil was red as blood.

In his shock, Blue Beard dropped the golden key — and it landed amongst the roses' tangled roots, where shards of bone glinted pale beneath the winter sun.

As soon as his senses had returned to him, he snatched it up again, hurriedly brushing the mud from its gilded surface with his fingertips. Then Blue Beard fled from the garden, stopping but once to close and lock the gate, before galloping the rest of the distance back to the castle.

There he found his wife Rosalind, having returned early from the market.

"Husband," she said, green eyes scraping him up and down. "Your clothes are wet with snowmelt."

"I took a stroll through the woods," he offered, feeling himself grow pale.

Rosalind watched him still. "Your hands are sticky with mud."

"I fell on the path," he offered, and grew paler still.

But there was no compassion in his wife's chilled gaze. "Your fingertips are stained with gold."

Blue Beard startled, for it was true — wherever his hands had touched the golden key, they had become stained with gold.

He grew so pale that even his beard went white.

With a resigned breath, Rosalind reached for the pruning hook that hung from the chatelaine at her waist.

"You have been in the garden," she surmised, her own fingers wrapping around the fine wooden handle. "And now you must return to it, and join your youngest brother, and the court cofferer, and the pirate captain, and with them serve as bone meal for my roses."

In her hand, the hook's blade shone as bright as Blue Beard's silver key.

Overcome with terror, he flung himself onto the floor at her feet.

"Wait!" he sobbed, his hands pressing together in supplication. "First let me show you the great parlor, before you show me my fate, I beg of you."

Rosalind paused, then; she had already raised the hand with the pruning hook, and aimed it to prune his throat, but now she lowered it slowly, for while she had not broken her vow, Blue Beard was not the only spouse to feel the bite of curiosity.

"I will let you unlock the great parlor," she decided, "but it may not save you from my wrath, nor from my roses."

It was on unsteady feet that Blue Beard climbed the stairs, trailed by his lady wife.

With a trembling hand, he took the little key and opened the door to the great parlor, then stepped back, so that she might look inside.

"Know all my secrets, my dear wife," he pleaded. "So that you may know the full truth of your husband."

Rosalind stepped up to the threshold of the great parlor, and squinted as she peered inside.

At first, she could discern nothing, for the windows were tightly shuttered and little daylight penetrated into the parlor. But as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she began to perceive shapes: tables and chairs — and the bodies of six women, propped against the walls, their throats slashed through and though, such that they gaped like second mouths, dark and permanently screaming.

"Ah," said Rosalind. "Your former wives."

"Each dead by my hand," he admitted. "The first for being a cruel sorceress, who cursed me with this blue beard, and each following for failing to heed my warnings."

His newest wife contemplated him with cool eyes. "As you have failed to heed mine."

"For which I must beg forgiveness." Again, Blue Beard dropped to his knees, this time clutching at the hem of his wife's kirtle. "I have broken your trust, and this I do not know how to mend. I would give you galas and masquerades, I would give you every stone of my spacious castle, I would give you all the gold and jewels I possess, but these things I have already given you, and I have nothing more to give, save my life, which I now give without hesitation."

Rosalind's fingers once more gripped the pruning hook as she studied the man who had warmed her bed so many winter nights.

"I will take it," she announced, but her hand loosened upon the handle. "Every day of your life, from now until your natural death, to be spent at my side, as my loyal husband."

Tears streamed from Blue Beard's eyes. "Rosalind?"

"In the spring," she continued, "you will help me plant new roses, white ones, and we shall feed them with the bones of your former wives."

At these words, her husband kissed at her skirts, and at her feet, and at her hands, washing them with his tears, until he had washed the last trace of anger from her green eyes.

By the summer, Blue Beard's castle was wreathed with white roses — though he could no longer be called Blue Beard, for his whiskers never regained their color, and remained stubbornly white for the remainder of his days.

So it came to be that Alban and Rosalind shared all their secrets as husband and wife, and lived happily ever after.

Photography Credits:

Door by Kelly Sikkema (@kellysikkema)

Rose background by René Porter (@reneporter)

Bloody hand by Mohamed Nohassi (@coopery)

Beard by Masoud Nikookalam (@msdnikoo)

Castle by Sean Thomas (@seansinspired)

Rings by Nima Izadi (@nimz_co)

Key by Everyday basics (@zanardi)

Rose busy by Klim Musalimov (@klim11)

All photography used with permission via the Unsplash License.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

The One (2)

For the Phic Phight prompts: Soulmate Au where after your soulmate dies, you can only see in black  and white. As in you see normal colors until they die and then only in  black and white for the rest of your life, so you only ever know if you  had a soulmate once it's too late. Except Character A's (up to you who  you want it to be) soulmate is Danny. While Danny is in Phantom form,  character A's vision is in black and white, but returns to normal color  when Danny is Fenton. Character A is going crazy trying to find their  soulmate who keeps dying and getting resurrected. (from @ghostboidanny) and Wes is the first one to find out Danny's secret. No One Knows AU. (from @murphy-kitt)

Chapter 2: Bathed in Green Light

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AO3 Link

[Warning for death mentions and graphic descriptions of pain (the portal accident)]

This was by far the worst moment of Danny's life.

He'd been stupid to hang around in his parents lab. Stupid to go into the portal. Stupid to touch anything. He'd never thought a decision made out of boredom, made because he was lonely and had nothing to do with both of his friends busy for the day, would have such disastrous consequences. He hadn't expected that thoughtlessly putting his hand against the wall in the dark hole which was supposed to be a ghost portal, would result in the worst moment of Danny's entire life... and quite possibly the last.

He could feel the electricity coursing through his veins, pumping millions of volts under his skin. His bones were being fried into brittle black powder. His blood evaporated in his arteries. His eyes practically popped right out of his skull, his organs melted. Then a shock of something ice-cold soaking him through, shredding him to pieces on jagged fractals.

It felt as if he was being torn apart molecule by molecule.

Toxic, radioactive green flooded in.

For what felt like forever, it dominated all of his senses. No scent, no sound, no taste. He could feel nothing and see nothing, except for that horrible, headache-inducing green.

He blacked out.

When he came to, he was on the floor of his parents' lab. Miraculously, he felt fine, until he tried to get to his feet, and realized he didn't have any. He floated up, so freaked out he wasn't even breathing and yet, he also wasn't running out of breath.

A glance in the nearest reflective surface showed him a very different sight than he was familiar with. His once-black hair was snow white, and his eyes that same, sickening green that had been his whole world for an instant and an eternity at once. His white Fenton jumpsuit had turned black, his skin was a pallid gray.

He'd changed, somehow.

The portal had changed him.

It had twisted, and altered, and rearranged his atoms until he wasn't human anymore.

All Danny's life, he'd heard his parents ranting and raving about ghosts, but he hadn't believed a word of it since he was six years old. Never in a million years could he have imagined that he would become one.

Alone in his parents' basement lab at fourteen years old, Danny Fenton had died.

A few minutes later, while he was still freaking out about being a ghost, the door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and in an instant of unparalleled fear, something incredible happened. A white glow passed over Danny, a bubbling, fizzing line of light against his body like a layer of skin was dissolving right off of him, and he dropped to the ground, looking just as human as he'd ever been.

"Dann-o, are you down here?" his father's booming voice asked. "Jazz said she heard screaming?"

"Yeah I... I was just looking at the portal," he said. "It shocked me when it turned on, but I'm okay now." His father's heavy footsteps stopped halfway down the stairs.

"It turned on?" he repeated, then he thundered gleefully down the rest of the way to see, like a kid on Christmas morning. "How? What happened?"

"Oh, I don't know," Danny lied, rubbing his left arm awkwardly. His left had been the hand against the wall, and he could still feel the phantom stings of electricity buzzing under his skin. "Maybe it just needed some time to warm up?"

"Maddie!" Jack bellowed upstairs. His voice no doubt carrying easily into the house, and probably all the way down the street as well. "The Fenton Portal is working!"

It was mere seconds before the clattering of his mother's boots could be heard clamoring down the basement stairs as well. "What do you mean it's working?" she demanded, though she was clearly thrilled to hear it. "How can it be working?"

"Danny here says it just needed some time to warm up!" Jack said, clapping his son on the back. The contact set Danny's raw nerves on fire, but he was quick to mask his pained grimace with a forced grin. "Says it gave him a shock when it turned on though. You're not hurt, are you, Danny boy?"

"Uh... no," Danny said, though it was the biggest lie he'd ever told. As soon as he'd turned human again, the pain came back, muted and faraway, but still there, and agonizing when anything when anything touched him. "No, I'm fine. Just some bad static, I think."

"Are you sure?" his mother asked with a sympathetic frown, but he nodded, fake smile still plastered on his face. "Well, if it's not serious...."

"It's not," Danny assured her promptly. "I'm just excited that the portal works now, I'm happy for you. But uh, I'm gonna, you know, go upstairs and leave you two to your work, cool? Cool." He started out of the basement, feeling with every step as though he was walking barefoot on shattered glass and gritting his teeth to keep from wincing as he ascended the stairs.

"I don't understand," he heard Maddie say behind him. "The prototype activated right away... I mean, it didn't function as intended, but it activated."

"Well, this one's bigger!" Jack responded, as though that explained everything.

Danny didn't hear anything more as he kept going until he reached his room on the second floor, where he lied down on his bed and tried not to move at all until the pain slowly but surely started to ebb away. When it had subsided enough for him to think, Danny considered what he should do.

Honestly, he didn't have the slightest idea. He didn't even really know what had happened to him. One second he was a ghost, and the next, human again. If he could switch back and forth, he had no idea how to do it, and if he was really dead and just somehow disguised himself as a human, he wasn't about to tell him parents that; they'd have a breakdown. And Jazz... Jazz was always going on about how it was her job as the older sibling to protect him. How would she feel if she found out about this? Not good. That much was certain.

And what about Sam and Tucker? He should tell them, at the very least, shouldn't he? Although... on second thought, maybe not. Tucker was always saying how dangerous their lab was and would never let Danny hear the end of it if he found out about the accident, and Sam, goth though she may be, got squeamish about death when it was more than just a word in her poetry. She didn't even eat meat. If she found out Danny had sort of died, she'd have a conniption.

For now, it was best to keep it a secret, at least until he figured out how to break it to them gently.

He was so not looking forward to school tomorrow. Maybe he could fake sick or ask his parents for the day off as a reward, since he was the one who got the portal working and all.

In the end, his parents were so busy running tests on their newly functioning portal that Danny didn't even need to make an excuse. He just stayed in bed, in the pajamas he'd eventually recovered enough to change into, and they never noticed that he cut school at all. If the school called them, they'd probably even ignore it in lieu of sample collecting and data checking.

At around 3:20 in the afternoon, Danny felt a chill and his breath misted in front of him as if the temperature had suddenly dropped a good thirty degrees. Something green and glowing flew up through the floor into Danny's room. Danny knew that color all too well, though it was weird to see it on an octopus, far, far away from any place an octopus would logically be. It flew at Danny, and he threw his hands up defensively, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them, he saw white gloves in front of his face, and a translucent green barrier between him and the ghost.

There was no time to think as he wrestled with the octopus in his bedroom, so he let instinct takeover. Green light shot out of his fingertips, making the octopus recoil. He grabbed the creature and dragged them both through the floor and through the floor again. He stunned the thing by zapping it with electricity and tossed it through the ghost portal and then... Danny decided instincts were a terrifying thing.

His parents backs had been turned to the whole time while they examined some kind of samples. They hadn't seen a thing. Danny flew back up through the ceiling, back to his room, closed his eyes, and willed himself to become human again. It wasn't until he felt his heart start to beat rapidly in his chest that he realized it had worked and he sighed with relief.

Crawling back into bed, he wrapped himself up in his blankets, and tried to magically erase everything that had happened the previous day the same way he'd transformed mere moments ago. Unfortunately, his will alone wasn't strong enough to do that, and it didn't work the second time.

[crqstalite]

[1] so much (for) stardust —

I feel like something bad has stretched out over and over again Until I'm creased and I'm about to break down the middle Split me right down the middle, right, right down the middle, yeah

In the aftermath of Meridian and the fight against the Archon, the crew of the Tempest finds their footing in Andromeda. Being pathfinder never came with a manual, but with six races depending on the young Talis Ryder to find them all a home, she wishes for one more every day. Not to mention trying to keep them from being at each others throats, a whirlwind romance, a brother who's turning out to be more trouble than he's worth and a plot against the Nexus, something's got to give.

And Talis is afraid it might be her.

A collection of stories about Pathfinder Ryder as she discovers herself and the cluster amid the political upheaval of an adolescent galaxy.

[set post-mass effect andromeda.] [female ryder/jaal ama darav, male ryder/cora harper]

chapter specific warnings: vomit mention, general sickness. whump.

-

February 25th, 2821 [1 year and 11 months since arrival to Andromeda] - Nexus Wards.

Logs: Mateo Sirius Ryder-Lucero

Mateo has thought about how this conversation would go at least three or four times since he left the Nexus nursery center, and it’s weighing him down more and more the closer he gets to Talis’ apartment. He only really has so many options and so far, the lint in his pockets and the hair product sticking to his fingers do not hold the answers that he needs. She’s pissed at him (rightfully so), as far as he knows, still hasn’t spoken to Cora after she overrode her order back on Voeld (arguably rightfully so), and the lack of having emotional stability through Jaal being gone had everyone on the Tempest walking on eggshells.

(He cannot wait for his future brother-in-law to get back. The sooner he can either get to her or get her to visit Lexi for a psych eval, the sooner everyone would be happy -- Talis included)

Whether he disagreed with her or not (he did) right now he needed to apologize. Just so he didn’t make everything worse than it already was. So after he'd dropped Ahri off with one of the attendants, he'd quickly made the trek out to the Nexus Presidium, considering both exactly what he was apologizing for (probably for insubordination and generally being a bit of a dick), and considering how she'd respond (probably not well). Little fires everywhere that he'd been ignoring for too long, too quick to get off of med-watch to realize his sister was drowning in responsibilities she wasn’t prepared for. Almost two years out from when they'd arrived in Andromeda, and regardless of her titles, Talis was still only twenty four. Same as him. Neither of them with any major 'leading' experience (they'd both held jobs on the Citadel like any other teenager, but. Well. False equivalent), and neither of them had done anything like this. The only other Pathfinder that had the necessary experience to be leading anyone was Raeka (he thinks that was her name), but everyone turned to his sister for help.

Talis only had so much help to give. Only had so much advice lying around before she was forced to say she didn't know, and if there was one thing his incredibly driven sister was horrible at, it was saying she didn't know how to do something.

Her newly discovered short fuse however was likely the direct consequence of this. He remains unsurprised, but her blowing up at him after the Tempest had rescued him from Voeld was new. And he wasn't exactly sure if he liked this new side of her. He was glad she wasn't as shy anymore, probably a good trait to shed as a Pathfinder, but perhaps he was just a smidge afraid of her now.

He probably hadn’t helped adding to her mounds of problems and causing her a shitton of stress on top of it. Who knew most people didn’t enjoy high stakes rescue missions in the middle of blizzards to find their twin brother when he wasn’t ever supposed to leave the station?

(According to Cora, most people knew this already. Go figure.)

When he buzzes the door to her apartment, she doesn’t answer immediately. Unusual for her, she usually came to the door as soon as she was able or would buzz him in at least. Frosty then. Ok. He could work with frosty.

(He should've brought food -- his mother would hit him upside the head with a sandal if she were awake.)

He rocks back and forth on his heels, considering whether he should come back later. She could still be in her meeting with Kandros and Addison from earlier, God knew those usually ran long. But he didn't really want to run all the way back to operations, and he imagines he'd look horribly pathetic waiting for her outside her apartment door like a lost puppy.

Which...is a weird way to refer to himself. Still the mental image works, but if he has to play the part of pathetic younger brother to get back on her good side, then so be it. He wasn't exactly above it at least.

He waits a few more minutes, checking the time, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He reaches the end of his hoodie string into his mouth, typing off a message to his sister before his SAM implant buzzes to life in his ear.

“SAM?” He asks around the endcap, “Where’s Talis?”

"Talis' implant has been dysfunctional for some time now. I have been primarily focused upon keeping her both conscious and stable. While my systems did not go dark, I am in a brief moment of human 'clarity'."

"What?" Mateo chews on the fabric, heart stopping and starting again as he processes the information, "Why would her implant be in the fritz? I mean, I know she took a hit or two on Voeld, but --"

"Mateo, we do not have long," SAM continues, and while he's incapable of changing his tone of voice, Mateo does not like the way he's enunciating his words, "Talis has been made gravely ill. Her interior systems are deteriorating as we speak."

"What?" Mateo asks again, this time spitting out the hoodie string, "Injured? Shit, SAM where is she?"

The door slides open before him and he rushes inside. He does a sweeping glance of the apartment, the kitchen empty and almost barren, her bedroom empty with only a few scattered pieces of clothing to even clue him in she may be home somewhere. Not in the bathroom, though the medicine cabinet is strewn open, with a bottle of painkillers left uncapped on the counter. A bucket lies on it’s side on the tile, water spilling out of it. Considering it hasn't dried yet, this was still recent.

His heart is racing as he doubles back, scanning the ground. Tile, tile, tile. He's beginning to hyperventilate almost, calling her name a few times. She doesn't answer, and he runs around a corner into her office fast enough to smack his hand against it. No one. Then he darts into the living room, catching a glimpse of the dirty blonde hair of his sister laid out in the middle, curled in on herself.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit..." Mateo mutters under his breath, pushing the coffee table out of the way, dropping to his knees to roll her over, carefully cradling her in an arm, "SAM--?"

"I have briefly relinquished control of her bodily systems to make contact with yourself and Dr. T'Perro. Most of my primary attention has been diverted onto keeping away the worst symptoms, but her illness is progressing faster than I can keep up," SAM answers in his ear, "She needs help, Mateo."

"I...I can see that, SAM," He says. Okay, as much as he’s panicking right now, he has to do a rudimentary status report. Talis is burning up beneath his fingers, barely clothed in a damp Initiative tank top that clings to her skin and shorts that are stained with what he thinks is vomit. He really hopes the few red stains are old as he brushes the hair that sticks to her face out of the way. She's flushed and somehow shivering under his touch, breathing labored. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, auburn orbs unfocused and glassy. She's not all there, and doesn't answer for a moment if she does recognize he’s here, head lolling to the side into Mateo's abdomen, "Tali, can you hear me? Sis, what happened? Are you okay--?"

She squints her eyes closed again against the light of the Nexus’ day cycle, voice crackling and rough, "Dad?"

Mateo's blood runs cold at that, and his voice creeps up an octave, "SAM, what's her base temp?"

"Her temperature spiked to almost 40 Celsius this morning, though I am working to lower it," SAM reports, "Hallucinations and confusion are not uncommon with fevers this high and consistent."

"Yeah...yeah that definitely sounds about right," Mateo squeaks out, glancing around for water, her freezer, whatever he thinks might cool her down, "What happened SAM? She seemed fine a couple days ago and now she just collapses middle of the day?"

"I am recognizing it as a toxin, though I am unsure of what origin, but it has damaged my reach over her physiological systems. With that, it has begun poisoning her, targeting organs and threatening to shut them down. Regardless, it seems the more I try to take back my control, the more I am pushed out. A virus perhaps, created specifically to target me and fatally wound the pathfinder."

"That--I don't...when did it even happen?"

"I am unsure. I can trace when symptoms began in earnest to about two days ago, but I could not pinpoint when exactly she became ill. Originally her symptoms seemed to have pointed to the common cold or influenza, but as they continued to worsen and become more severe, this became less of the case. If this virus is capable of shutting down the parts of her body I can control, then her body likely will end up in shock without my major involvement.”

Mateo’s head is spinning, and he barely understands what SAM is spitting back at him. He’s not a doctor, never has been, but he does understand that his twin is on the wrong side of ill. Poisoned, he can’t even begin to wrap his head around that one. Four days ago they’d been on Voeld, when the Tempest had come to rescue him. They’d only spent minimal time in one of of the raider camps, convinced they were friendly (or at least neutral) at the time. But…

Talis has been the only person he hadn’t had an eye on the whole time they were there in the ice shelf. But then again, they’d been taking care of something on Kadara prior to that. Elaaden even before that. All places that’d make sense if they’d hurt her with the concentration of exiles and possibly left over Roekaar. He has more than enough questions about that, but he can go over those concerns with Lexi when she gets here. If she gets here in time. He gently lays her back down to scuttle to his feet and rustle through her freezer for ice or water, fingers stinging against the cold shock and pulse throbbing in between his ribs, “SAM, ideas? When’s Lexi going to get here?”

“ETA 12 minutes, she is bringing a small emergency team with her,” He answers, “It is not advised to cool her down too fast, Mateo.”

“I know, I know,” He says. SAM’s right, he needed to cool her down but not shock her. He'd do more damage that way, and the last thing he needed was to put her in any more pain than she already was in. He learned that much in basic. He drops the ice in favor for a cold water bottle, shutting the fridge and quickly walking back to the living room, “Other ideas then? Did she take anything for it before this happened?”

“She had been lucid up until an hour ago. I requested she take a form of acetaminophen for both her fever and bodily aches, she said she would soon. Unfortunately, her fever spiked and she began vomiting again soon after — she had been laying here for almost fifteen minutes before you arrived. I had contacted Dr. T’Perro, you were already on your way,” SAM says. That answered why the pills were on the counter abandoned, and Mateo’s starting to put together a rough chain of events, “I have running theories upon what may be ailing her, but symptoms are not consistent to what I have already been aware of. I have concerns it may be Andromedan in origin or perhaps entirely synthetic.”

Mateo tilts her head up enough to laying against his shoulder when he kneels down again. She groans as he parts her lips, sitting her up to be careful to keep her from choking on the water he’d found, “Is it contagious?”

“The crew aboard the Tempest reports no symptoms, alien and human alike. While I am not directly patched into you, I have not detected any of the same symptoms or changes within you. No reports of endemic level infections on any of the planets she had visited in the past week either. This was likely deliberate, and targeted. Considering the pathfinder’s more recent activities on Kadara, her immune system was already compromised. If I did not still have some extensive control over her and was actively suppressing the worst of this ailment, she would likely already be—“

“Okay, thanks SAM, but I really don’t want to think about that right now,” Mateo cuts off the AI before he can even mention the idea of Talis being dead or dying. Three times was enough in his opinion, and he wasn’t around for those times, but he’d rather not be around for the fourth. Mateo refused to admit to being scared of a lot of things, but losing his sister again was definitely one of them.

Talis is at least capable of sipping down a few gulps of water before beginning to cough. And with her coughing comes her retching onto the rug beneath them after turning her head away from him. Barely a glance and he can tell its tinged just enough with red and bile that whatever she’s working with is doing far too much for him to fix on his own right now. He considers going back to her medicine cabinet for an antiemetic, but then again he’s not sure if he’d do more damage that way.

Goddamn it, he was never sure about these things and right now, he really wished he was, “Have you called Jaal yet?”

“Jaal is still out of contact, though I have pushed a message through to his omni tool. Likely he is still on his mission and will be unavailable for some time.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Mateo responds sarcastically, biting down on his lip. He really needed someone who was more resourceful here.

He hates feeling powerless, unable to diagnose and unable to help. He can clean later but right now he holds his sister close as she still mumbles for their father. He wishes someone else was here to tell him what to do, someone tangible. Someone like Suvi might know what plant or whatever might’ve caused this, someone like Cora would have some sort of plan in place already, but Mateo doesn’t know anything. Even Jaal might've been better, it might give some comfort to his sister knowing her partner was at her side.

But no, he was gone for a few more days on a Resistance operation.

He’s been out of the outpatient medcenter for maybe two months at this point and arguably, he’s already been tossed headfirst into the fire. He was barely a private by the time they left Andromeda, and his inexperience is shining like a badge as he leans the cool bottle against Talis’s forehead. She leans into his touch, not unlike a child, and whimpers. He needed someone else here, literally anyone else who might know what his next move should be. Even Talis would likely know what to do, and she was the one who was currently out of commission.

(Oh why didn’t he just go into biotech like his mom wanted him to?)

“Please, please, please, just stay awake Tali,” Mateo begs, moving the water bottle back to her neck when her eyes shut for a moment. That seems to bring some more coherency back to her briefly as she relaxes back into the cool comfort of it, though her eyes are threatening to flutter back closed, “C’mon Tali, at least stay awake until Lexi can get here.”

“Mm, Dad, I’m — still here. Don’ go.” Talis’ voice is small and weak, weaker than he’d heard her in years, “Don’ leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Mateo answers back. To some extent, he’s curious what she’s seeing, what she’s thinking about. But the other part of him that’s terribly superstitious at times does not like what it implies, "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."

Lexi arrives sometime later, he isn't sure how much later, the door to the apartment sliding open and Mateo jerking himself and Talis by accident, the latter of whom retches again onto the rug. Lexi’s not alone at least, with two others who carry a stretcher behind them. Her expression is already grim, brow bones furrowed and a deep frown across her face. She kneels down next to the pair, Mateo instinctively holding her closer.

“SAM already filled me in on my way here. We’ll take her to the Garson Memorial facility and contact some of our Angaran ambassadors — her scans don’t make me believe that whatever she ingested was Milky Way made,” The Asari confirms, waving her own scanner over Talis while a human and Turian come around his right, "Talis, can you hear me?"

When she doesn't immediately, instead squeezing her eyes shut against the light of Lexi's scanner, Lexi sighs. The Turian picks up the coffee table and discards it into the kitchen, while the human lays down the stretcher in it’s place. Mateo freezes in place, unsure of what to do next while so much goes on around him. A beam extends from the side of the bed, the human EMT quick to prepare what he thinks is an IV to hook up to Talis. Mateo hesitates to let go of his sister, in his right mind he knows they’re here to help and knows she’ll be fine but the last time he let her out of his sight…

So much has gone wrong. And he wasn't there for any of it to help. And he's about to be again if they take her away.

“Iz that—mom?” Talis warbles, her head turned towards Lexi. Her distress is more evident now, every wheezing breath she takes accompanied with the quivering that’s beginning to shake them both is scaring him more and more. Now that she can’t even differentiate between the ship’s doctor and their own mother, can’t differentiate between himself and their father, he just wants to know what’s happening. Wants SAM to shut her down again and just reboot her good as new, as much as that’s a pipe dream and would just as likely kill her outright, “Mom?”

“Mateo,” Lexi’s voice snaps him out of his panic, her cerulean eyes pinned on him. She seems to ignore Talis calling for her, though her stern look is starting to bleed into concern, “We’ll stabilize her and keep you updated on her condition, but we need to go now if we have any intention of getting her to the med center before she gets any worse.”

He allows himself one more second, cupping the side of her face with his free hand before relinquishing his grasp on his twin. The EMTs are as careful as they can be with her, the IV inserted and a monitor with her vitals appearing on her side when they attach it to her. The rest of the time that Lexi and her team are there blur into mush, as they ask questions and roll her back out of the apartment. Mateo does his best to answer with SAM filling in a lot of the major gaps, and makes a mental note to do his best on cleaning whenever he gets back, make sure to take care of what he can.

He walks alongside them as their brisk pace, an ambulance waiting for them and a small crowd beginning to form in the complex hallway. She’s rolled into the back of the skytruck, and one of the EMTs offers him a hand to pull him up. He takes it, hands shaking as he sits to her right.

Lexi is quick and efficient, attaching monitor after monitor to her. SAM assists her, rattling off reports. The sound of the EKG is what he thinks will haunt him after this, though. Talis had told him once that her prior two deaths were quick, like moments of being unconscious. She couldn't tell that she'd died, that she was dying. SAM had only given her a brief warning beforehand the second time, the third was quick and unable to have been predicted. The first, the first had been what had startled him most when she recounted it to him, her legs pulled up to her chest and almost at a whisper when he'd asked in the medbay.

She had been panicking. Had been terrified out of her mind.

Once the heart monitor is attached, the rapid and erratic beeping fills the back of the truck. Lexi glances at it, knitting her brows and quickly administering more medication after that discovery. He can't quite swallow around the lump in his throat, wondering if she's panicking now in her own mind. Wondering if she was, alone in her apartment and barely able to breathe. Likely hunched over a bucket, incapable of deciphering which was up or down or even who was right in front of her?

Why hadn't she called him? Texted him that she wasn't feeling well?He would've come running, even though he knows that thinking about this now wouldn't change the past. He knows the real answer, and doesn't like it much. Wish Talis stopped believing it.

Only SAM had known about this, and likely Talis had sworn him to some degree of secrecy. Mateo knew better than anyone Talis hated having people worry about her.

"God, you gotta stop doing this, Tali," Mateo whispers, throat scratchy and eyes burning, taking hold of her hand in between two of his own. Lexi diverts her eyes, carefully attaching an oxygen mask to her, "Gotta stop scaring me, gotta stop pulling the shittiest parlor tricks."

She doesn't acknowledge what he says, but her eyes are still open. Still flickering around the truck. They land on him briefly, lidded and dark, but at least he can live with the peace she's alive. She's still alive. And for all it's worth, will stay alive.

Because God knows he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

-

Rewinding...

[2] October 2nd, 2820

Logs: Talis Meissa Ryder-Lucero (Ark Hyperion Pathfinder)

[apollo-is-abnormal]

I have an idea for Satan’s birth, and oh boy is it going to be angsty

here’s a very out of the blue and out of order OM:R quickie:

WARNING: EXTREME ANGST AND S/3/L/F H/4/R/M (bodily injury and blood), as well as slight body horror technically?

The Birth of Satan, an Obey Me:Rethought Short

.

.

.

As the eldest son fell to what he assumed to be his demise, all the anger, pain and strife he had felt during the war had just…subsided, at least for a long quiet moment. After all the fighting and grief of what they had lost, the brothers could say and do nothing as they fell, quietly yearning about what they had lost.

Lucifer was not even able to catch a glimpse of his brothers as the clouds blurred past him, seeing his own white feathers shoot past him. He didn’t have long to reflect on his actions and his own fall as he felt a shear and sharp pain burn throughout his whole body, as if the fires of a thousand suns had suddenly set his body aflame…And he screamed, letting out all of his newfound pain and strife. Feeling every inch of the intense burning agony as he felt his body began to morph, two bumpy points threatening to break through his skull and skin, the points ripping themselves out of him, the blood dripping onto his face, as his halo shattered into a million pieces; making room for his newfound horns. He didn’t have much time to process these, nor the pain he had just gone through to get them, as he noticed more feathers falling off of his wings, streaking off of him like rain, as they began to turn into the color of a night without a moon. And with all of these factors set in place, his rage was reignited, as he couldn’t tell if the hot tears streaming down his face were from sorrow or anger. And his mind began to think irrationally as he held onto a pair of his once pure wings, feeling every emotion he had felt during the war. It was his father’s fault he was falling from heaven, his home, it was his fault Lilith was now dead, it was His fault that this once elegant and regal angel was now falling to his doom, and becoming the very thing he demised: a wretched demon- And so…The oldest brother snapped, and with a slow but great tug from his hands, he gave a loud scream, as he tore a pair of his feathery wings off of his body…And watched as the horrible mix of blood of feathers swirled and twisted through the air, falling along with him, giving another painful scream of agony as he felt the consequences of his sins. And thus, he began to fall unconscious, exhausted from it all, all the agony he had faced both mentally and physically, it was just too much for the now fallen angel…But something peculiar seemed to be happening just as the demon felt his eyelids getting heavy…. As his now detached wings began to fall aimlessly through the air…They began to flail, as if, somehow having a heartbeat of their own…Flying on their own, connecting to one another. Shifting and shaping themselves into something, as spine sprouted out from the now connected feathers, the spine slowly growing out and forming into a boney tail…The wings began forming themselves a body from this…But…This is all Lucifer saw as he finally fell unconscious, still falling from the sky… ………………………………………………………………………………………………………… It must have been many hours later when the red eyed demon had finally woken up, his own eyes and body still weighing on him as he finally, found himself on the ground…The landing was less than pleasant, as he noticed a small crater had formed around him. And it took a long while for Lucifer to even be able to stand up again, limping over to the closest tree…Doing a headcount…. “One…Two…Three…Four…Five…” Now six including himself…But…there seemed to be a new being standing amongst the battered brothers…It didn’t say anything as a green eyed horned figure, with familar black hair began to stare at him…Now that Lucifer had a better look it…It looked…almost like him…In fact, it was almost identical to the fallen angel. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………And yeah! That’s all I had fir the birth of Satan, if you all want, I might make a part 2 of newly…“born” satan meeting the brothers and him getting his name and all that. But for now, hopefully you like this short and quick OM:R story =]

[drarryglobesficrecs]

My fav drarry fics (long version) pt. 2

Word length- above 50k

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (74k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid (90k)

All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter. Suddenly, Draco has an unwanted second chance, with a Sorting Hat that doesn't know what to do with him, a certain Muggleborn who won't leave his study table alone, and green eyes he just can't get out of his head. And then there's his new wand, whose choice of him could just mark him as every bit as dark a wizard as his name means he should be.

(This is part of a 7 part series)

Turn by Saras_Girl (306k)

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop(70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Ex Nihilo (And Other Feats of An Untrained Veela) by Kandakicksass (127k)

Ever since returning to Hogwarts, Harry has had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, who exists at the bottom of the social ladder and is just trying to survive their "eighth year." One veela presentation (and Harry's natural resistance to veela allure) changes all of that.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop(113k)

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him. When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

White Lies by cassisluna(171k)

Draco drinks a potion that makes him know if a person is lying, and Harry, apparently at fault that Draco is this way, is forced to 'help' him with the effects of the potion. For the first time, they deal with each other with no lies to hide behind.

In Pieces by dysonrules(85k)

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

Star Quality by who_la_hoop(118k)

Two years after the war, and Harry’s content with his life. OK, so it’s a little annoying that he keeps winning Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, and he’s really not looking forward to the unveiling of an enormous gold statue of himself, but he loves his friends, and he loves being an Auror. And if he yearns for something more, something he can barely bring himself to think about, well, he’ll probably get over it. No one’s happy all the time, are they? But then everything changes, and Harry’s thrown into a new and dazzling world he’s not sure he can actually escape from. And as time goes on, he starts to wonder: does he actually want to?

Nyctophilia by prolonged_autumn(107k)

Everyone's back for 8th year, and Harry and his friends seem determined to spend their last year in school running around at night, hyped up on coffee and alcohol and Honeydukes candy, doing all the childish things they didn't have the chance to do before. Draco watches as he's always watched: from afar, quiet and bitter and hopelessly in love. That is, until Pansy decides she's had quite enough of it.

Every New Beginning by fencer_x(140k)

“You curl your lip and wrinkle your nose and sneer and call me Saviour, yet you only seek my help at the eleventh hour. That’s what’s fucked up, Malfoy.” || Draco Malfoy is dead, and Harry is absolutely totally fine with that.

The Importance of Being Draco Malfoy by poppyhills(66k)

The answer to the age-old question, "What if instead of a scratch on the arm, Buckbeak had stomped on Draco's head instead and caused tragic memory loss?" It was a truth universally acknowledged that the path to reforming a Slytherin prince never did run smooth. Hogwarts AU Prisoner of Azkaban.

The Bolthole by aideomai, Tepre(54k)

Harry is a hoarder, Draco is grief-stricken, and both are capable human adults who can definitely spend a month in a cottage in the Cotswolds together without ever talking about the time they slept together in eighth year. Yeah, no, totally.