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heimdallsbraids · 1 year

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Blood of Mine | Ch. 4 (Heimdall x fem!reader)

Summary: Life is pretty simple. Survive the harsh conditions of Fimbulwinter in Midgard, trade with your dwarven friends in Svartalfheim and – avoid the shit out of Odin’s most loyal lapdog? If word reaches the All-Father about your blood-bending origins, you’re doomed… (Hints of Avatar: TLA, but not a crossover)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, descriptions of violence

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Chapter Four: Blunder

Early morning sunlight filtered through the windows, your eyes languidly following the little streams of dust particles that would glint and catch in the rays. The soft furs on your bed served as a nice warm layer to fend off the cool air that threatened to raise goosebumps over your skin, the motivation to get your ass out of bed wavering with each breath you took.

Eventually, you yawned and sat up, the furs drooping down to your waist as you stretched your arms high above your head. You were set to work with the cooks of The Great Lodge today, having already gotten a feel for the local markets over the past week. It would be your first time working in such a large kitchen, but you found yourself looking forward to it either way. The merchants had been plenty accommodating to you, and you’d even made some new friends to catch up with at the Black Thunder tavern sometime down the track.

Things were going surprisingly well.

Several timid knocks at the door startled you, and you hurriedly hopped around to tug your pants on.

“One second!” You called, taking a quick moment to brush your bed hair with your fingers. You’d just washed it last night, so thankfully, it sat pretty nicely in a low ponytail.

Upon opening the door, you were pleased to see a middle-aged servant carrying the last of your order from the tailor shop. Excited, you ushered her inside and helped organise them into your wardrobe. She seemed to find it odd that you were assisting her, but she offered you a small smile nonetheless before ducking out to continue with her chores.

You had to admit, you were pretty giddy with the new wardrobe you’d received, even if it was from a man like Odin. Now, you were happily set with several new tunics, pants, belts, boots and even a couple of dresses – the latter being a luxury you haven’t had the chance to wear in a while. The only downfall was that you now had much to pay him back for, despite his saying otherwise. It was a little too friendly, you thought; there had to be a catch.

Jörgen – the head cook – promptly greeted you as soon as you entered the busy kitchen. “Come, come,” he said, the ageing wrinkles on his forehead creasing as he fussed. “Let’s get you into an apron, and I’ll show you what to do.”

It wasn’t long before you were put to work alongside a few other kitchenhands chopping up and organising a plethora of fruits, meats, and vegetables. Just like the merchants, they were welcoming and had you included in their conversations in no time. After a few hours, however, your hands grew sore from the repetitive slicing motions, and you placed your knife down to massage your aching palms.

A young man with brown hair and hazel eyes, Amir, was quick to notice and sidled up to you, taking your remaining vegetables with a charming grin. “Thought you could use the assistance.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you told him, a tad sheepish.

He winked. “You can thank me later.”

Stunned, you glanced around at the other servants as he prepped the food with the kind of speed only an experienced cook would have. Two girls were giggling with each other, one slapping the other’s arm and coughing once they saw you’d noticed. Was this guy… flirting with you?

Jörgen approached upon noticing the commotion and whisked you away to his station. He wanted you to prepare a small snack of your choice for Odin himself – under his inspection, of course. With no indication of the esteemed All-Father’s food preferences, you quickly caught on that it was a test of sorts and immediately set to work making a personal favourite of yours. Within the hour, you were ready to present your dish.

“Frida!” The cook beckoned forward a female servant passing by in the halls. “If you would please take this to the All-Father’s study. Hurry now. He’ll be waiting.”

Your mouth opened in protest as the servant hurriedly removed the dish from your hands, but she was already out the door before you even produced a sound. Wow, they really don’t mess around…

Unsure, you asked, “What if he doesn’t like it?”

“Then we’ll be in the shit,” Jörgen deadpanned, throwing a kitchen rag over his shoulder. At your horrified expression, he chortled, “Just joking! It’ll probably wind up on the dinner table for everyone else to eat tonight, though I doubt that will happen. You did good, kid.”

“Don’t do that! The last thing I want is to get anyone in trouble…” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

The remainder of your shift went smoothly, and by mid-afternoon, you raced back to your room to change into some fresh clothes for your outing with Thrúd. Over the past week, the two of you bonded over your shared fascination with the Valkyries and planned to visit the training grounds together so you could watch them for the rest of the day. It would be your first time seeing them this close, so it’s safe to say you were pretty ecstatic.

Just like Mum, you reminisced, virtually skipping your way to the grounds.

The sounds of clanging steel and loud shouting greeted you first, then came the view of dozens of Einherjar spread out in groups of two. Thrúd spotted you and waved you over to where she sat on the high deck just above the fighting, and you joined her, dangling your legs over the edge. She filled you in on the two Valkyries leading today’s session, Hrist and Mist. Both were formidable warriors unmatched in their synchronised combat skills, bringing Asgard countless victories in battle.

“You’ll see Gnà around sometime,” Thrúd grinned, looking the most enthusiastic you’ve ever seen her. “She’s the new Queen of the Valkyries, and, boy, does she put on a good fight!”

You chewed on your bottom lip at the news, inwardly hoping that Freya was okay, wherever she was. You didn’t know her personally, but your mother worked very closely with her. Was she even alive? If so, where was she?

Your eyes followed Hrist as she slowly wandered around the field, monitoring the soldiers’ movements, razor-sharp wings glinting green in the afternoon sun. It was hard not to admire her. When you were younger, you dreamed of becoming one yourself, but your hopes were dashed once your true powers came to light. Your mother was absolutely adamant about your blood-bending remaining a secret to keep you safe from those who would dare use it against you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask-” the teen beside you began after a moment. “Where do you actually come from? I mean, you don’t exactly strike me as a full-Midgardian.”

“What gives you that idea?” You asked.

“I dunno, you just seem… different, I guess? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

You quirked a brow. “A mortal who’s different. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Hah, you know what I mean!” She chortled, nudging you in the side with her elbow. “I’m just saying, a lot of the Midgardians I’ve met are weird!”

“Sure, sure.” You laughed, mirroring her actions. You paused when she suddenly grasped your hand. “What?”

“You wanna go train for a bit?”

“What, in there? With them?” You jabbed an incredulous thumb towards Hrist and Mist.

She shook her head, standing up. “Nah, there’s another spot around the block. Come on!”

You jogged along with her as she led you to another training area. This one, though significantly smaller, was equipped with more practical equipment. Archery targets lined the back fence with countless markings and indents, while wooden training dummies were scattered throughout the area. A few were in dire need of replacement – some missing an arm while others didn’t even have a head.

“Is this where you usually come to train?” You asked, plucking a piece of hay stuck to one of the dummies.

She nodded her head. “Gotta put in the hard yards if I wanna become a Valkyrie!”

You stood back as she unsheathed her large blade from her hip, taking a swing at the dummy. The sword lodged into its’ side with a thwack before she withdrew it and widened her stance, ready for another shot. Slow clapping sounds approached from the entrance gate. There Heimdall stood, leaning his elbows over the top of the hardwood as he addressed you both with a shit-eating grin.

“Amateur hour, is it?” He sighed, folding his hands together with one final clap. “Figures you two would be the stars of the show.”

Thrúd instantly took the bait, storming toward her kin with a snarl. “I don’t see you training for anything these days. Getting too comfortable on the wall, huh?”

He snickered under his breath and extended to his full height with a tilt of his head. You were quickly learning that that was his non-verbal way of saying, ‘I’m gonna fuck around with you for a minute’. Thankfully, most of those cues hadn’t been aimed at you over the past week, which was surprising considering your last encounter. But, of course, that didn’t exempt you from a scathing remark every time he moseyed past you in the dining hall.

He entered the area deliberately, calculative – as if daring her to take a swipe. “Unlike you, I have actual responsibilities. Adult responsibilities, you see. You may find it hard to fathom since the All-Father hasn’t and – let’s be honest here – probably never will consider taking you on after your drunken failure of a father-”

It was as if an invisible string snapped, and suddenly, Thrúd was throwing punch after punch, missing every single one as Heimdall dodged side to side with ease, her blade long forgotten on the ground. You winced as he delivered a rough shove to the side of her head, throwing her off balance. She let out a frustrated growl as she clambered to the side, just barely catching herself before she tumbled to the ground. It didn’t take her long to correct herself, though, and she gained on him once more, this time aiming a boot towards his shin.

“Nope!” He taunted, using the hilt of his sword to ram against her knee.

A punch. Dodged. A kick. Deflected. A swing. Shoved.

You’d never seen Heimdall in combat before, but it was easy to see how infuriating he would be to go up against. His gift of foresight made it impossible for the girl to land a hit, let alone get close enough. He was clearly finding this fun, too, the ruthless sneer only growing on his face with each attack he evaded.

If it were anyone else, you would’ve found it amusing – Hel, attractive even – but with each second that went past, with each cuss word that flew from the teen’s mouth, you only found yourself growing more aggravated. Before you even realised what you were doing, your fingers twitched, and warmth flowed down your arms as you glared at the arrogant God taunting your friend.

Silence overcame the three of you as Thrúd finally managed to clip the side of his bicep with her enclosed fist. It wasn’t a particularly hard hit, as most of the momentum was lost already, but it was enough. Heimdall had faltered, unable to lean back far enough as you, for the slightest second, controlled the warm blood flowing through his lithe form.

Thrúd was practically gawking at her still-closed fist, holding it up in the air as if it would disappear at any moment. “What the fuck?”

Heimdall was livid, his glowing eyes sliding past his niece and straight over to you. He knew.

You gulped, pointing a finger to the entrance. “U-uh, I’m just gonna-”

It all happened so fast. The arrogant God was before you in a flash, his hand clamping over the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulders in a bruising grip. All of a sudden, you were being pushed forward, forced out of the training area, onto the main street and into what looked like an empty storage building.

He flung you to the side, slamming you into a stack of wooden boxes. You whimpered in pain as a sharp corner dug into your hip, your hands flying up in an attempt to hold the infuriated Aesir back. Fortunately, he halted, face close enough to feel his warm breath puff down your neck.

“You know, I couldn’t figure it out the first time I met you. Why I couldn’t see anything in that stupid little head of yours!” He yelled, eyes ablaze with fury. “And now, hah… you just gave yourself away, scum.”

You were frozen, mortified that you let your powers slip, that you used them on him, of all people, and that he caught on so damn fast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stuttered, shaking your head.

He slammed a fist into the box beside your head. “Don’t! Lie. To me.”

You twisted your neck to the side, clenching your mouth shut as he bore down on you, those bifröst eyes of his burning into your soul. What have I done?

“What, pray tell, is a blood-bender doing here in Asgard, hm? Enlighten me,” he spat, gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“F-fuck, I’m just working, I swear!”

A scoff. “Was that supposed to be convincing?”

“It’s true!” You implored, muscles shaking from the strain of holding yourself up. “I own a small business with my Dad in Midgard; ask Odin!”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, his irises jumping between each of yours, searching. He pulled away suddenly, and you collapsed to the ground, your hands flying to nurse your aching hip. You watched as he dragged a heavy-looking desk across the floor with ease and perched himself upon it.

“The All-Father,” he shot you a pointed look, “-would never waste his time on a poor, useless excuse for a merchant for no reason.”

You swallowed.

The vicious smirk returned. “My guess is he probably already knows – or has an inkling, at least.”

“What does it matter anyway?” You deflected, using the boxes as a crutch to stand up on shaky legs. “You probably felt how weak I am. I can’t even control my own powers!”

He waggled a finger at you as if talking down to a child. “Ah, ah, ah! See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He pat his hand to his chest, “I believe you have complete control of your powers – my unable to see into your mind tells me that much. And yet, here you are, hiding in plain sight, no different to a common thief. Why is that?”

“I…”

“I know why!” He piped up loudly, making you jump. “You’re afraid of it, aren’t you? Terrified to utilise your own powers. Tch, pathetic.”

Silence enveloped the room. Even with his foresight denied by your powers, he was awfully perceptive, and it worried you. Were you really that easy to read?

One thing was running through your mind now, which you voiced instantly. “You can’t tell him…”

He actually laughed at that, but there was nothing joyful about it as he drummed his fingers against the edge of the table – as if itching to take you by the throat this time. “What makes you think I’d listen to the likes of you?”

Your shoulders drooped in defeat as you looked down. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just, please, don’t tell him.” You pleaded.

“Is that so?” He’d pulled away from the table now, approaching you with slow, calculating footsteps. “Do you even understand what you’re offering?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at his boots, deciding to try again. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell him…”

Your chin was snatched up once again, though much calmer this time, but it was his eyes that had you shivering with hesitation as you gazed up at him. “You have no idea what you’ve signed yourself up for, sunshine.”

#oooh shit #you've done it now reader #heimdall is officially pissed #fic is taking a darker turn #be prepared #heimdall gow #gow heimdall #heimdall god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow x reader #female reader #fanfiction #crossposted on ao3 #fic: blood of mine

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thequietmanno1 · 8 months

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TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 97, Replies Part 1

1) “Now it is time to return to our headache, it’s a vigilantes chapter! We’re about to the see the humiliation of tensei (I fucking love tensei) by the hands of Koichi. Let us see how many seconds this high-speed chase will take, on Chapter 97: Pursuers”- About 10, if we’re not counting the failed talk-down attempt Tensei made which took longer than the actual pursuit.

2) “And look at that, it’s the emissary of hell himself. Alright Koichi, you don’t even know what’s coming your way, but trust me, you’re not gonna like it”- Not even just dealing with the usually-competent Tensei, it seems Koichi’s also gotta deal with most of the top pros out hunting him, hamstrung as they may be by Furuhashi’s writing.

3) “Ok… This is not the neighborhood, because everyone in there knows Koichi vigilante name, but this imply that he’s well-known enough outside of Naruhata? Right. I hope I’m merely misinterpretating this.”- Koichi’s fame appears to have been spreading by his more visible acts of do-gooding, but that’s also the same reason he’s being chased right now, having gained a rep for both good and bad reasons. I guess we could have seen more of this in prior chapters if the series had lasted longer.

4) “Dammit Koichi, pay attention, we don’t want to add vehicular manslaughter to your criminal record.”- ….does Koichi himself now count as a high-speed vehicle when he’s in motion? Like, he could always compete with them, but would a collision still be filed under “bodily harm” if he ran over somebody?

5) “THERE IS OUR MAN, THE LEGEND, THE ENGINE

TENSEI

AND HE’S ALREADY BEING A NARC TELLING KOICHI TO SLOW DOWN, BASTARD WANTS TO GIVE HIM A TICKET”- Koichi’s casually broken more speeding laws than hero laws, and now it’s all catching up to him….literally.

6) “Now Tensei, although I fucking love you, I have a feeling that Koichi does not feel the same to trust you. You know, it’s not like there was almost three years of story to show you two being friends and bonding while jogging to justify this

but then again, nothing important happened on that timeskip”- I’m starting to feel like the words “three-year timeskip” will become your version of the “Bat credit Card” skit whenever somebody brings it up….so I hope your sister continues to mention it at every opportunity

youtube

7) “And Koichi of course doesn’t trust him, because being honest, why should him? From what we know they met like, twice, this has all the emotional impact of two acquaintances by name meeting after three years.”- I appreciate Koichi having the brains to not immediately turn himself in to the official heroes, but still not casting off his goodwill with them by continuing to flee, instead taking on a third choice of using the truck to maintain his escape velocity whilst also letting him have a conversation with Tensei and letting him argue his case. Even if it was a doomed attempt, Koichi isn’t as Pro-vigilante as Soga, Knuckles and the others (ironically) and does want to believe in and trust the official heroes. It’s just that this time, the stakes are too high and personal for him to take that chance, so however reluctantly, he’s gotta break the law to keep their illegal operation running until Pop’s safety is secured. 8) “Don’t even waste saliva Tensei, he won’t stop, the fact you allowed him to roam free for those last three years don’t necessarily mean much much considering that every single hero in town also never batted an eye to him, even though he technically is famous.”- Everybody being willing to let Koichi “play hero” does make them mighty hypocritical now the situation’s turned dire enough they need to step in and preform actual hero work in his stead. In that respect, Fires Georg actually kept the correct attitude up towards Koichi the entire time. 9) “Can you, Tensei? Can you really? Because I wonder for how long you would be able to.

Here’s the thing, why don’t you prove you’re capable of by catching Koichi first? If you can’t catch a single measly Vigilante, what shot you have of protecting Pop from a villain?”- Koichi’s rise in competency against (furuhashi-nerfed) heroes does unfortunately highlight Soga’s point about how their group is needed on this operation, because if the heroes aren’t capable of stopping Koichi, then Nomura will easily penetrate their defences – and the fact that there’s multiple heroes in play hero only increases his chances, because we’ve seen how expertly he infiltrated that big hero operation against Bee Pop.

10) “Yeah see, this was a good reason for not trusting the cops and the heroes but it pains me to have to swallow the fact it’s once again Soga being the voice of reason.”- At this point, what’s one more pain to the list? Might as well grin and bear it, cause we sure aren’t getting a sudden switch over to Bakugo being Koichi’s helper, funny as that would have been. 11) “Also, he probably could’ve already done that if he wanted, I think he’s planning something. That’s the only explanation for him not going up a building and then legging it the opposite way since you can’t do sharp turns easily.”- Since a lot of heroes, especially pros, tend to use Ariel support or parkouring around the city rooftops to get around whilst on patrol, Koichi going up high only makes him a visible target and puts him in their preferred hunting grounds, as shown by both Edgeshot and best Jeanist, whose ability let them semi-spiderman their way around. Sticking to the dark streets lets Koichi move quickly and mostly undetected, but with Tensei covering the ground he’s forced to go high or order to avoid the net.

12) “Huh, guys, a net? He can jump over it

and even if that fucking creppy-ass girl tries I doubt she’s fast enough to catch him

what is going on”- Tensei and his sidekicks are cutting off Koichi’s avenues on escape on the gorund whilst letting other, more mid-air capable heroes monitor the area from above in case Koichi tries to go vertical as an escape. Demonstrating teamwork and trust even between different groups of heroes, just like a proper Pro should.

13) “And there he goes… Yeah, I knew that would be the case, they didn’t even stood a chance

Really, no air support to intercept him even though everyone by now knows he can jumps around and is just a minute away from actually being able to fly. I retract my statement Tensei, turns out you are an idiot.”- Tensei’s group is highly-skilled at cooperating in large-scale operations on a level ground floor, but we’ve not really seen many of them that can fly well, if at all. In which case, Tensei’s ok with allowing other pros who have skills that cover that gap to step in to subdue Koichi if words or force won’t convince him to submit. It’s honestly not that different from the kinda tactics Izuku’s pulled off with 1A and their varied abilities before, showing how success requires more than one superhero who’s capable of covering all possible types of situation. 14) “TENSEI PLEASE DID YOU SERIOUSLY CAME ALL THIS WAY TO CATCH HIM AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN BOTHERED TO GET SOME INTEL ON WHAT HE CAN DO NOW?

HE WAS INVOLVED IN THE SKY EGG AND FIRES GEORG RAMPAGE, THE HEROES SHOULD HAVE KNOW WHAT HE CAN DO ALSO, WHO ELSE DID YOU RECRUIT FOR THIS”- The heroes did know what Koichi can do. That’s why Tensei outsourced some extra help this time around….

@thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #bnha vigilantes #vigilantes 97 #Youtube

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 3 years

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..."STAR-CROSSED LOVERS"??? YES.

Thank you so much @cheri-translates for translating Victor's SAND AND SEA DATE. You're an angel. 🥺🥺🥺

Now I'm gonna start blabbering since I've many feels about this date LOL~ 🙃

⚠️Warning: There are some spoilers regarding Victor storyline from the main story chapters that haven't been released in EN yet.

🌹

From "I won't save you a second time" [CH 1] to "I don’t need you to save me a second time." [The date in discussion]-- LOL as hilarious as this is, the irony.💯

Ngl this date felt like, the writers thinking since, under the context of the theme, the physical pain of time travel & crossing countless of dimensions & timelines is not possible-- let's just nearly kill him by spilling blood & dehydration but still we gotta nearly kill this man cause he wants to be in love.🙃

Idk why I'm getting so emotional LOL but there are so many call-backs I can remember on top of my head right now--

[The lines & moments from the date are indented & in bold letters.]

MC: "Victor, I’m helping you look for a water source. Let go!"

🌹 The sad broken cup scene from [CH 18-16], MC urging Victor to let go & him stubbornly refusing, until she gives in.

MC sacrificing herself to revive the river, part of it is to save Victor- other part of it is also for the greater good of the people in the city.

🌹 [CH 18-18] MC's monologue- "This time, put everything on my shoulder & let me be your hero one last time."

& sacrificing herself for the peace of the world even though it only made more chaos.

Victor releasing the hand that supported him at the edge & deciding to sacrifice himself with her. & the vow- "No matter what awaits you, I’ll be with you."

MC's monologue: "It turns out that no matter what the ending is, he’s willing to be with me."

[CH 18-28] Victor deciding to use the sundial watch one last time despite knowing that'd kill him for sure & might lead the world to perish as well. Dummy & Selfish in that moment. His final vow before MC disappeared, "No matter where you are, I'll always find you."

[CH 19-6 Dream World Victor route]

MC: "What if this really is a dream. Then what?"

Victor: "Then I'll turn it into reality."

[CH 25 phone call- In the Hospital]

"No matter what you are facing in other space-times...Wait for me."

[CH 36-10, after Victor returns from his 10K years time travel]

Victor: I thought you are never going to be afraid again?

His warm breath moistens my eyes. I inhale through my sore nose. Resisting the urge to bury my face in his chest, I look up, staring straight into his eyes-

MC: I will never be afraid again. Because you really came back. Victor is standing here before me like a treasure once lost and now found. What do I have to be afraid of?

Victor is stunned for a moment. The corners of his lips loosens a bit, while the contours of his face softened a lot. He raises his hand to wipe the wetness from the corner of my eyes.

Victor: It seems that this dummy has grown up a lot during this period. Listen carefully, I will never return to a world where you are not.

[CH 37 PV line]

"Whatever choice you make, I'll always be here."

[CH 37 karma by-line]

"I will accompany you on the road leading to the future."--

Basically the eternal insistence of him having an internal MC GPS tracker LOL ALWAYS being by her side.

Kidnapping incident.

🌹...[CH 30-7 to 30-10] Agio Street underground gambling den mission- wants to say a hello.🙋‍♀️

Abandoning the honor & glory of leading a comfortable life as a feudal lord to restore the river & to find the fateful couple, probably hoping to find his love too, but won't admit cause even if it's AU, he be like- "I'm still Victor" LOL

[CH 11 karma by-line]

"I won't let go of you & the world."

The physically-mentally painful exhausting wait & time travelling of 10K years, walking through endless dimensions & timelines, only to start from the very beginning every single time- hoping to find a way to save the world & protect the girl-- wants to say a hello too 🙋‍♀️

MC's monologue: Still, I want to have one more look at Victor… before leaving.

🌹 This specifically reminded me of a [CH 37-5 Victor split route] monologue from MC--

"It didn't matter what was waiting for me. I would face it with my head held high. Even so, I still wanted one last second...just one second. Let me call his name one more time...let me take a good look at him...just one last time..."

Victor: In that case, stay here. Stay by my side.

🌹 He has said the same sentence in different ways under various circumstances but one I can remember right now,

[CH 24-12 Black Cabin reunion]-- "But right now...Just stay by my side."

MC noting down how she always finds herself in his arms whenever she's fainting or getting in trouble. How Victor has been quietly taking care of her & protecting her. How the person before her walks in steady steps with forceful heartbeats.

When she was in her most depressing state [CH 18], he was there like the steady pillar of support, helping her in every way he could. He was pretty much the glue that kept her in one piece.

Again, in winter world, he stood by her side even as a stranger.

Not just these two incident, throughout the entire game, especially in the latter part of the story, they work together like partners, she learns to trust him with pretty much everything & they work through everything they can together.

Those few mentions in the date-- could be referred to how Victor has always been the constant source of warmth, encouragement, strength, support, protection in her life. No matter what world or when, he never really changes. He is still the same man. & His constant state IS choosing MC every single time.

Victor lies on the sand quietly, and it’s as though everything has returned to the beginning when we first met.

🌹 Indication towards how their storyline ALWAYS goes back to square one or comes in a full circle-- from Victor saving her from the car crash as a kid [& this being repeated many times afterwards, even in winter world], to the lightning incident [MC jumping in front of Victor both as a child & an adult], to both being in coma for week, staying in the hospital & taking care the entire time [MC in CH 11, Victor in CH 32], to stabbing each other countless times. [CH 18, CH 36-- & every other times Victor has seen those incidents happening before his eyes while time traveling.] *que tears*

🌹▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️🌹

I could possibly make a full blown essay which I already kinda have out of some other specific call-backs I can remember right now. Specifically the theme of the date being star-crossed lovers-

Legend tells of two lovers. Because of the pressures of their nations, they could not be together, and decided to drown themselves in a river for love.

Because of this, the River Goddess was enraged, and she cursed the land nourished by the river which was under her control. Since that day, the Socya River gradually dried up.

The Goddess left an exhortation-when the fateful couple reappears on this land, the river will be surge once again...

& This perfectly echoes the canon theme of Victor x MC storyline--

🌹 As in, Victor being someone who, objectively speaking, seemingly has everything & yet sacrificing practically everything--

[giving up over-seas university offers, staying in the city instead of moving abroad even though his business could be expanded more, relentless search of 17 years, appointing private detective for 6 years, building up Souvenir etc.]

--- to find MC & then in the mission of keeping her safe, even at the cost of his own existence. Trying everything beyond his limits to prevent the destined deaths of MC he has foreseen- from happening & it being doomed to no end every single time.

🌹 Every single time he had to give up the ONE thing he wanted to protect the most or wanted the most.

🌹 Both of them being so willing to put each other in the front line just to give each other happiness.

🌹 Another running theme of their storyline-- both of them keep losing each other countless times & then find each other again.

• Victor losing MC as a kid, finding her as an adult. Victor nearly losing her in CH 10.

• MC losing Victor due to the time rift in CH 14 & finding a way to contact each other through the sundial watch.

• Victor losing MC in CH 18 first-hand. MC leaving Victor behind in CH 19- dream world.

• CH 24 Black Cabin reunion & CH 27 OG timeline reunion

• MC nearly losing Victor in CH 32, due to him going to coma

• MC losing Victor in CH 34 due to Victor going on the time-travel journey of 10K years

• Final reunion in CH 36 [Then we have the journey to S2. But that's a whole new discussion.]

🌹So...both of them being able to truly be with each other is actually-- defying fate & writing their own destiny. *SOBS*

🌹I wanna end my blabbering with two precious moments from [CH 36- Victor split route] that echoes this theme even more.

MC: "I've always chased after your silhouette and I was never afraid. Because I know you'll always be there waiting for me. Victor, if you really disappear... I will be with you, and we will both be forgotten by the world."

MC's monologue: "Victor, once we have crossed countless dimensions and futures, and returned to each other’s embrace. If everything has to disappear with time, as dust into the wind... Then, I'm glad that we have our final promise."

[She's referring to the promise she made of being forgotten by the world to be with him & the promise Victor made earlier to never leave her again.]

#classic tragic love story at it's finest #yEs #mlqc victor #mldd victor #mr love victor #mlqc li zeyan #victor #li zeyan #mlqc zen #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

Note

Hello there! I hope everything is going well with you. (・∀・)

I have some questions. In CH 30 & 32 the Time Observer mentioned about the "price being too heavy/dear" & he mentioned that he never expected for Victor to choose that method to prevent the crisis. I was wondering what price is he talking about & what's "the method" he mentioned? & Victor collapsing in CH 32 was not from hitting the bullet I believe. What exactly happened there?

Also...I don't know the details but I think I saw it somewhere that Victor goes through different timelines & dimensions for 10000 years in the later part of the story...? I remember reading it in a R&S that every time he crosses a dimension he'd experience soul crushing pain... The mere thought of doing it for so long honestly made me feel traumatized. I was hoping you could give me some insights as to what exactly he was doing.

I hope I'm not bothering you with tons of questions & they made sense. Thanks a lot in advance! Have a good day! <3

Hello!!

Thank you, you too! :)

I hope I helped answered your questions here. It's quite long, so enjoy the read!

I did Victor’s Time Observer analysis and I’ll be heavily referencing that post to help answer this particular ask. Big thank you to @cheri-cheri and @ey8508 for help clarifying some of my thoughts concerning Victor this chapter! Spoilers down below! ⏱

“With great power comes great responsibility.” -The Peter Parker Principle

We all know Victor bears great power, but also with that comes great responsibility. He is the sole individual who has the will and power to alter time and space, however this develops drastic consequences to his health and to history- all for his love for MC.

Victor doesn’t care about this price- he is more concerned with whether he can prevent the death of the girl in every unpredictable future.

“The person who can save the world… is not me, but her. As for myself, I know my ending line and how much pain I can bear better than anyone. I would rather take such a risk.” -Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 30-6

Victor is seen to be flanked by bodyguards on Adagio Street. Moments later, in a pure white space, we see the Time Observer addressing Victor.

I stood in the centre of the street, looking hesitantly around, but I was unable to spot that familiar figure.

In the dead of the night, from the distant horizon, there seemed to come the sound of a mechanical little violin.

In a boundless, pure white space, the music would be at time peaceful and solemn, and at others somber and mournful. After the final note, that pair of tightly-closed eyes opened.

The Time Observer looked at Victor, neither showing surprise.

That pale white hand brushed lightly over the violin strings, and his gravelly voice spoke up with the pluck of the string.

TO: “The natural rules of operations no longer supply. This world… in memory is a turbulent past and in imagination, there is no serene future. She should have stayed in that world. Her return was a mistake.”

Victor: “If you’re still here that means we still have a chance.”

TO: “A chance that comes at such a heavy cost. Is it really worth it? You will soon understand, in some things, you are doomed to helplessness. Try with all your might, and yet, it remains out of reach.”

Victor: “I won’t let her die again. No matter when."

This will foreshadow future events such as in Chapter 32, where Victor shows a demonstration of this.

Chapter 32-6

Amidst the scattering glass shards, I saw a number of bullets flying towards me.

Only one thought ran through my mind.

Am I going to die?

Chapter 32-8

In the darkness, a crack suddenly splits open, and a blinding light appears, obscuring my sight. My heartbeat practically came to a standstill, the pain I expected never came. The blinding light disappeared, instantaneously replaced by darkness.

Time seemed to pause for a second.

The pitch black bullets, the fractured glass, the car in mid-air…

And then it fell all heavily to the ground.

And in this moment, Victor challenged “fate”, or rather, the “natural rules of operations”, stated by the Time Observer.

I reached out and grabbed the black clothing fluttering before me. Even my voice was trembling.

MC: “Victor…”

I looked in a daze at the man before me, at those fierce eyes beneath his wind-blown hair.

He was looking back at me, as if trying to etch me into his eyes with his deep gaze. But there was another emotion hidden within as well.

After confirming he was unharmed, I let out a sigh, then looked anxiously into his eyes.

MC: “What are you doing here?”

Victor: “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

But this time, his voice was flat.

MC: “I’m sorry… but I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not unaware of the danger… I must simply stay and stop them.”

I hastily wanted to get Victor out of danger, but his feet were planted firmly. I looked up, to get a look at his expression.

His voice was steady, stopping me in my tracks.

Victor: “I see.”

MC: “You really believe I can stop them?”

Victor: “I said before, even if you don't trust yourself, always trust me. I won’t do anything I'm not sure I can handle. Go what you think needs to be done.”

He patted the back of my head lightly, with a hint of tremor in his voice. He didn’t ask me or stop me, as if he already knew the choice I’d made.

So, while the STF agents and runaway Evolvers were battling, MC was literally going to die at that moment. But Victor enters- using his Evol to stop time, ultimately stopping the bullets and MC’s death.

I whirled around, hoping to catch sight of him.

MC: “Victor!”

I wanted to tell him I’d done it, that I really had prevented this crisis.

A faint worry floated up in my chest. What about Victor?

Medic: “Someone, come quick! There’s another person here!”

I turned and hurried to the end of the bridge.

I then quickly found him.

Ringed by a crowd of people, there he was, the person I would recognise anywhere.

It was…

I halted my steps for a moment, then ran to him without hesitation.

I broke into a panic.

Chapter 32-10

Victor… What happened to him??

I pushed the crowd aside and frantically ran to him.

His face was pallid, eyes squeezed shut, his hair plastered messily to his forehead with sweat. I grasped his hand, unable to believe how icy cold it felt to the touch.

MC: "How could you… Why did you…”

Just then, those eyes shut with pain cracked open. He pursed his lips and then coughed violently, blood started trickling out. Even like that, he still chuckled weakly.

Victor: “I used to think… that your problem was that you thought you could control fate all by yourself. Stubborn, self-reliant, in over your head. Whenever anyone tried to tell you anything, no matter what they said, it was always in one ear and out the other.”

Although it sounded a little weak, his voice was unusually calm, and didn’t really even pause or halt. Almost if, if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again.

Victor: “But I really did learn a little something from you. You are the thing unto yourself, so only know the best what your values and decisions should be. No one can guide you. And just like I can’t hold you back, you also can’t change this decision that I’ve made. Don’t ask why, this time, just let me say my piece.”

His voice grew weaker, but he managed to lift his right hand and place it over mine.

I clasped his hand, and a feeling of suspense and dread came over me like I'd never felt before.

MC: “I know… I know… You don’t have to say more.”

He was afraid of something, but not because his life was slipping away. It was more like… something would happen.

Victor closed his eyes, completely exhausted. I squeezed his hand tighter, as if trying to hang on to those remnants of warmth.

You have to make it through this.

A man standing by the riverside swiped his hand through the fog, swiped his hand through the fog, stirring it up into an erratic vortex.

Zero: “Did he actually…”

TO: Like I said before, he is the most suitable candidate.”

Zero: “But he refused to help us open the Door of Return.”

TO: “Perhaps it’s only temporary, and he’ll change his mind. I didn’t imagine he’d choose this method for preventing this crisis. Too bad… the price was so dear.”

After Victor saves MC from death, she finds him on the ground- pale and in terrible pain. Throughout Victor’s time with MC, we slowly see the influence he has on her- and the influence she has on him. He tells her that while she shoulders everything on her own and never listens to anyone, she did teach him things in the process. With her love and kindness, she strives to defy “nature's course” and saves worlds. Literally.

You were correct, Victor didn’t suffer injuries from the bullets because he stopped them just in time but Victor is overusing his Evol, and it’s gradually taking a toll on his body. Even back before MC crossed over to the Winter World, Victor was trying to find other alternative ways for MC to live and not sacrifice herself. Unfortunately, there were none. He did also suffer immense pain whenever he time traveled, especially when it led to his time travel pocket watch cracking and breaking in the end.

Victor would normally be practical and very principled in how he executes his plans, but this time around, it was him. This- he- was the plan. That's it. This is similar to how Victor opened a time rift to send MC away in Chapter 18- to somewhere and sometime in space. He waited for her to come back with the help of the Time Observers to confirm her safety. Only someone with his powerful Evol could do that, otherwise they’d risk losing consciousness in the “Time Rift”.

Additionally, he held onto that hope that MC could and would be saved in the end, like how he tried to find her for 17 years after the orphanage incident, not knowing whether she was dead or alive. Victor wants to wield that control, denying “helplessness” and “winning all the bets” he had with MC prior to her “death” in Chapter 18. Victor stated that if she couldn’t trust herself, then she should trust him and his decisions to protect her. Even if it’s detrimental to his health. Life-threatening, even. Because in the end, Victor knows he will always win. He just does.

And since he knows that he won’t be able to stop MC from doing what she wants, we now see him fully embracing then acting upon it. He accepts that she’s her own person and he has grown to have so much faith in her, seeing how she successfully survived Winter World then coming back home safe. It’s almost like- “okay. It’s you and me against the world”.

On the sidelines, Time observer and ZERO both observe, surprised that Victor will pay such a high price to avoid MC’s death from occurring- with the risk of his own. Could they have lost their most powerful time Evolver from this incident?

Though, we shouldn’t be surprised that the Time Observers think that Victor would be so foolish to use his Evol up to the point where it would actually kill him just to save MC. It's literally in their name- “Observers''- they haven’t and aren’t even allowed to actively participate in the events that happened in Loveland, let alone the different histories and worlds that existed, other than claiming to “correct it” by influencing other people who can. They don’t appear to have this kind of empathy in understanding Victor and why he wants to save MC’s life, or how important she is to him.

“You misunderstand. We never alter, we are correctors of history. We want you to join us, your power’s scope of influence has already surpassed the dimension of this current world. Before you are rejected by it…”

Victor: “I will not leave this world.”

“Even if you’ve seen the future of what is all to pass?”

Victor: “No matter what happens, the person I’m seeking for is right here.” -Black Curtain: Chapter 6

Also taken from my Time Observer Analysis-

Since Victor’s Evol is strong and has the capability to do more than “observe” like the Time Observers, he is the one who is deemed the most suitable and more responsible for “grasping the time in the past and the future”. Ever since STF found out about Victor’s Evol, they wanted him to cooperate with them too. Every time he stops time, certain surrounding energy and space changes.

The organisation also entertains the idea of fate, and how things should be refused to be changed. Since they have “seen the future of how the world ends”, they want Victor to cooperate with them in making it stop. Nobody can rewrite the ending among them, except him. Victor refuses to join because he doesn’t adhere to this idea.

“QUEEN’s return has brought unexpected consequences; the entire collapse of the world is ahead of schedule. The world’s line has come to an end, no matter through time or space, we can no longer interfere in this world.” Was there a difference in letting each world go to the end alone to close all the world lines in the future directly? Although we found a breakthrough, this situation really caused us a lot of headaches: she who should not have survived and she should not have been sent to other worlds. As a result, it would seriously interfere and disrupt the timeline. No one had done it before, and no one except Victor could do it.

In disbelief, we weighed it and threw the olive branch- as long as he is willing to cooperate, we will help him find her. As decisive as he was to refuse a few times before, this time he had promised me without thinking. And for a moment, I didn’t know if his decisiveness was good or bad. -Chapter 33-34 Rumours and Secrets

Victor "travelling ten-thousand years in the future" was mentioned in his Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets. The Space and Time Administration (who the Time Observers were under) could "repair his abilities", after he stopped the bullets from hitting MC. He would have to stay there for the Space and Time Administration's time duration of ten-thousand years. Victor accepts. (BIG THANKS TO @cheri-cheri FOR CORRECTING ME LAST MINUTE WITH THIS ONE, YOU AMAZING HUMAN!!)

#mlqc #mlqc victor #love and producer #mr love queens choice #恋与制作人 #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc en #mlqc time observers #victor #mlqc spoilers

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.4

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!reader, ANGST, mild smut +18, comedy (i tried), fluff in this chapter

Warnings— Unprotected explicit sex, fingering, blood mentions, death,

Word Count— 6.9k (nice)

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires, making you a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think! Things are starting to get spicy~

The chilly crisp air that once gently kissed your cheeks had transformed into a biting cold that gnawed at your bones. Dread began to settle in as Taehyung led you by the hand, blissfully unaware of the daunting job you’ve been tasked with. You knew you should have killed him right away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were well aware of the consequences, and now it is time to face the repercussions.

Your jewelry was prepped and loaded with your special poison that consisted of neurotoxins from the deadliest animals. Pufferfish, scorpions, and king cobras were among the lethal mix. You had also laced your anointed silver dagger with the poison, as you would need every advantage you could get to combat Taehyung's strength.

“Would like some tea to calm your nerves, darling?” Taehyung asked sweetly.

“Yeah, that might help,” you shot him a meek smile.

Taehyung nodded and kissed the back of your hand before leaving you to make the tea. His sweet gesture made your heart sink. How could you possibly kill this man? The one and only person you’ve ever loved in your life? Well, even though he was not technically a person, no one had ever made you feel so loved before.

Taehyung quickly returned with hot tea and you gratefully let the cup warm up your hands. He pressed his cold hand against your forehead to check for any sign of illness.

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you assured him.

“The air is getting colder. This is the opportune time for pestilence to strike,” Taehyung chided.

“Ok dad,” you rolled your eyes at him. God, you’re gonna miss this silly banter.

“I thought girls address their significant others by ‘daddy’ now?” he innocently asked, causing you to nearly spit out your drink.

“Some girls yes, but not in this instance. It’s more of a kink,” you explained.

“So was Freud correct in his reasoning?” Taehyung questioned.

“Well, yes and no. I don’t know. His theories are stupid and sexist. I hate that guy,” you concluded.

“I’m inclined to agree, he was rather odd,” Taehyung nodded wistfully.

“You act as if you actually knew him,” you scoffed, knowing damn well that he probably did meet him at some point.

“Of course not, that would be impossible. How old do you think I am?” he tried to joke with you. The subject of time and age always seemed like a touchy subject for him (and rightfully so).

“We’ve been over this. You’re probably centuries old or some shit. You always talk like some old timey character in a cheesy period film.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” you smiled at him.

You really should stop dragging this on. It’s only going to cause more pain. Well, maybe spending just one more day with him wouldn’t be too bad. Nothing you do now is going to avert the pain. You might as well make this final day count.

“Darling?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Yes, my love?” Taehyung gazed softly at you.

“Can you cuddle me all day? And make me feel like the most loved girl in the world?”

“My darling, you are the most loved girl in the world. Nothing in this realm can ever diminish my affections for you,” Taehyung tightly embraced you.

His kind words made you shed a silent tear. You will cherish every last second you had left with him. And that you did. The rest of the day was spent bundled up together under the warm covers of his bed watching Peaky Blinders. You insisted that he finish all of the episodes that day (which was a silly notion to him, but he obliged nonetheless).

It was late afternoon by the time the show was completely binged, and now your stomach was growling relentlessly.

“Hungry?” Taehyung chuckled.

“I believe so,” you clenched your stomach.

“I’ll go whip up some quick sandwiches then. Would you like some tea as well?”

“I can make the tea, you just handle the food,” you ordered.

“As you wish,” Taehyung complied.

It was time. You brewed the tea as you normally would, making sure you acted as if everything was okay. Just like you did before, a quick motion was all it took to pour a lethal dose of your special concoction into Taehyung’s tea.

There was no turning back now. Taehyung happily brought the sandwiches to the table. You smiled at him, fighting to hold back tears. At least your last memory of him would be pleasant.

“I love when you make the tea, it always tastes better than mine,” Taehyung praised you as he brought the cup to his lips.

Your breath hitches as he takes a sip. Immediately his face contorts with disgust and he looks at you with hurt betrayal in his eyes. Your heart breaks as you hesitate for a second; your hand is gripped around the hilt of your poisoned dagger.

With tears streaming down your face, you lunge at Taehyung. He quickly evades you, your blade narrowly missing his neck. Just a scratch of your blade would spell out his doom. Taehyung coughs out as much of the poison as he could.

Again, you propel yourself at Taehyung, zeroing in on his neck. He grabs you by the back of your head and effortlessly flung you across the room. You crash into the wall, the impact knocking the wind out of you. In a split second, Taehyung was in front of you, pulling you up by your hair.

You tried to stab him, but your efforts were futile. He grabbed your wrist with such force that it felt as if it was about to shatter. The dagger falls to the floor and his hand moves from your wrist to your neck.

The pain in his eyes was too unbearable to look at. Tears welled at the bottom of his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find any words to say.

“I could kill you right now,” is all he managed to say.

“Then do it,” you say without any hesitation.

“Go to sleep,” Taehyung demands, his words laced with the most potent magic you’ve ever encountered. In an instant, you were in a deep slumber.

You wake up in an unknown amount of time later. Your hands and legs are tied up to a chair in the middle of Taehyung’s living room. The restraints are so tight that you couldn’t even squirm your wrists or ankles.

Taehyung was rapidly pacing back and forth in front of you. His puffy eyes indicate the waterfall of tears he must have shed while you were knocked out.

“Tae--” you tried to call out.

“Don’t,” Taehyung snapped at you, instantly shutting you up.

He was using his magic now, and there’s nothing you can do to combat it. You had no choice but to sit helplessly as you waited for Taehyung to speak again.

“Why? I thought we had something real. I would have never hurt you. Did I not show you that I am harmless?” Taehyung finally said as he imposingly stood over you, “You may speak. Tell the truth.”

“I was ordered to exterminate you by the VEC. Taehyung you have to believe me when I say I love you. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I regret ever doing it,” you cried.

“Why should I ever trust you again?” he scoffed.

“If I didn’t kill you they would just keep sending more and more agents. You already encountered some before me,” you kept trying to explain.

“I tried to tell the vampire hunting couple that I have not done anyone harm in centuries. I’m sure you’re curious as to how I satisfy my peculiar craving. I pay a very handsome sum to the local hospital, and in return they supply me with endless blood donations. No one is harmed in the process. But those people refused to listen to me. I didn’t want to hurt them, but they gave me no choice,” Taehyung recounted.

“Those people were my parents,” you said softly.

Taehyung’s harsh gaze softened. He didn’t know how to react. He reasoned that avenging your parents may have been a justifiable reason to kill him.

“I’m terribly sorry, ___. I did not want to hurt them, but they were belligerent. I did not have a single moment of peace while they were pursuing me. You must have thought I was a monster this entire time,” Taehyung’s voice cracked, and he turned to hide his face from you.

“No, Taehyung, not at all. I love you. I never really knew my parents, so as awful as it is to say, their deaths didn’t really affect me. I treated this mission like any other, but curiosity got the better of me. Taehyung, I’ve never felt more human than when I’m with you,” tears began to cascade down your cheeks.

Taehyung remained silent and refused to look at you.

“I foolishly thought that the least I could do was give you a quick painless death. I didn’t want you to suffer,” you continued.

“___, I have never known a greater pain than this betrayal. I was willing to give you the world,” he finally turned to you, revealing that he too was crying, “And I still am. I have not been so enthralled by another for as long as I can remember. I do not know what kind of spells you used on me, but I fear that they are unbreakable.”

“Neither of us used any magic on each other before this, Tae. I wish you killed me on the spot when you first saw me,” you wailed.

“And ruin the single most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen? I couldn’t bear to think of it,” Taehyung said softly, gently caressing your wet cheek with the back of his hand.

Taehyung picked up your chair with one hand and brought you to the dining table.

“I’m going to untie you. Please do not try to run away or kill me again. We both know you are no match for me,” Taehyung said sternly.

You nodded quickly, eager to get the restraints off. You obediently sat still after he tore off the rope that bound you to the chair. Taehyung took his place opposite of you. Silence filled the air as tension built. Finally, Taehyung slid his poisoned tea to the middle of the table.

“Since peace does not seem to be an option, I believe it would be best for one of us to die,” he stated.

You stare blankly at him.

“Or perhaps, we could run away together and never look back. I can forgive this little infraction if you can forgive me for my deceit. We were both keeping secrets, and in the end it only harmed both of us,” he continued.

“We both know that can’t happen. The VEC would hunt us down relentlessly,” you disagreed.

Before he could react, you grabbed the cup and consumed its contents in the blink of an eye.

“___! What are you doing!?” he yelled at you, leaping across the table to smack the cup from your hands.

“I have a tracker in my bloodstream, Taehyung. They’ll always be able to find me, and we will never know peace. At least this way, you can flee and continue to live out your life,” you smiled weakly.

It won’t take long for your body to become paralyzed. After all, this was meant to kill vampires, not humans.

Taehyung cradled you in his arms, clutching you close to his chest. He wept over you as your body began to stiffen. Your cognitive abilities will remain intact until the very end. You watched as Taehyung’s heart broke for the second time that day.

“You fool. I don’t care if they keep coming after us. It would all be worth it if it means that I can have you by my side,” he cried as he cupped your cheek.

It was evident that the poison had begun running its course. You couldn’t reply nor could you move any part of your body. Only your eyes could convey your sorrow. Taehyung leaned down to plant kisses on both cheeks before gingerly placing one more on your still lips.

He picked you up bridal style and headed for the door. He walked along the trail on which you used to skip alongside him. The chirping birds that once greeted you were eerily quiet now. The evening dusk hour made the trees cast long spooky shadows along the path. The lake comes into view, but now it looks menacing as fog rolls along the water.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this, ___,” Taehyung said somberly.

You couldn’t say anything, but your eyes expressed your deep heartache.

“Don’t look at me like that, love. It’ll only make this harder,” Taehyung set you down gently on the edge of the dock, “I loved you, you know. I trusted you.”

Taehyung bent down to give you a final kiss. You could feel his sorrow as his cold lips pressed against yours. After parting, Taehyung began to sing. Tears began to roll down your cheeks. Of course, you were crying because you didn’t want to die, but also because you loved Taehyung’s voice so much. It was probably the one thing you’d miss most from this world. Besides Taehyung himself, of course.

“Have I lost myself? Or have I gained you?” Taehyung’s beautiful voice carried through the air.

Taehyung placed you into the lake on your back. You floated for a few seconds before your legs began to dip deeper into the water. Now completely immobile due to your poison, you had no choice but to drown peacefully.

“Please don’t say anything. Reach my hand out to cover the mouth,” Taehyung sang, his eyes never leaving you.

The water engulfed you as your head finally sank below the surface. Taehyung’s voice began to fade away as your lungs filled with water. Is this what your dreams have been warning you about? Have you already seen your own demise? None of that matters now, as the dull light from above the water gets further and further away.

Everything fades to nothingness as the water swallows you whole. Your vision, hearing, and consciousness slip away. Nothing but the frigid lake can be felt now.

Is this really how you’d go? Maybe you deserved it. You did attempt to kill the love of your life. You couldn’t help but be thankful for the time you spent with him.

Water fills your lungs, and you’re certain that your time has finally come. For being raised as a vampire hunter, you managed to stretch out your life expectancy. You closed your eyes for the last time as you sunk further towards the bottom of the lake.

Suddenly a warm light caressed your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open as you desperately gasped for air. All of your senses flood back and it’s incredibly overwhelming. There’s an unbearable white light that temporarily blinds you. Loud indiscernible sounds cause you to crumple to the ground. Soon the loud noises turn into a muffled tone that you can’t quite make you. The light begins to fade away as well.

You finally open your eyes once again, and are shocked by what you see. You’re in a lush garden, surrounded by gigantic trees and beautiful flowers. Birds can be heard chirping overhead.

‘Is this heaven?’ you thought to yourself.

“Not quite yet, child,” a voice boomed from above.

The sudden response made you jump. You looked around to try and find who responded, but to no avail.

‘God…?’ you thought.

“You flatter me, little one,” the voice chuckled.

The voice wasn’t as loud, but was now much closer. It honestly even sounded a little familiar. You turned around to see a giant figure looming behind you. Flowing golden robes elegantly wrapped around the figure. As your eyes focused on it, you saw a familiar face smiling down at you. Wait what the hell? It looked and sounded exactly like Yoongi.

“Let me speak before you ask any more questions,” the faux Yoongi said, “Welcome to Purgatory. You are neither dead nor alive nor undead. Your soul is temporarily in limbo. You must be a rather peculiar human. Most souls merely pop in here for an instant before their fate is decided or they are pulled back into the mortal realm. I have been instructed to converse with you,” the being explained.

“Y-yoongi?” you stammered in your confusion.

“Ah, I am not Yoongi, though I’m sure I resemble that fellow. I am perceived as any being who is held dear by those who gaze upon me. Usually I appear as a lover or a parent. Forgive my curiosity but under which category is ‘Yoongi’ to you?” the being sat beside you.

“Neither. But he’s probably the closest thing I have to a parent,” you shrugged.

“Interesting. Do you have a lover?”

“I think I did before I fucked everything up. What happens now?” you asked. You didn’t want to ponder on why this strange being did not take the form of Taehyung. Surely you held Taehyung more dear to you than Yoongi.

“You get to choose,” the being replied, “Also, I am not a god, upper or lowercase. You can think of me as sort of a cousin to Death. I am inevitable, but much less known,” it must have sensed your eagerness to figure out what it was.

“Do you have a name?” you inquired, now looking at it in awe instead of fear. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were sitting with the real Min Yoongi. However, this being’s powerful aura easily gave it away as an imposter.

“Names are powerful things,” fake Yoongi tsked.

“Surely you know mine. It’s only fair for me to know yours,” you replied, “And I keep calling you Fake Yoongi in my head.”

“You may call me Lethe, as some have called me before,” it said after a long pause.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Lethe. So what is this choosing business? Whether I live or die?”

“Of course,” Lethe said as a matter of factly.

“Wouldn’t it be obvious that I’d want to live?”

“Do you?”

That question filled you with doubt. What happens if you go back? How would you face Taehyung? Would it even be possible to talk it out and pretend like it never happened? Or would you need to go through the ordeal of attempting to kill him again?

“Those are all valid questions,” Lethe nodded.

“I forgot you can read my mind,” you said with surprise, “How long can I stay here?”

“Time does not exist here. But I suppose for your feeble mind to comprehend, I’d say about 2 more hours. At least, that’s what it’ll feel like to you. You can converse with me for the time being,” the immortal sat beside you.

And so it went. Lethe helped you weigh out your options. Lethe taking Yoongi’s form helped you open up. This was the closest thing you’ve ever had to a real heart to heart with a parent. Perhaps Yoongi was more important to you than you thought.

Lethe had already known every detail of your life, as they do with all those who pass through their domain. It was clear that you weren’t ready to die. You were just lost on what to do when you go back.

“Time is nearly up, little one,” Lethe softly said, “Have you made your decision?”

“Yes. I want to go back to the land of the living,” you smiled.

Lethe returned your smile as they began to wave their hands above you, making you instantly sleepy.

“I’ll be happy to see you again when it’s finally my time to go,” you managed to make out before letting out a yawn and shutting your eyes.

“That would be nice, little one. But no one ever remembers me,” Lethe said in a bittersweet tone as they sent you back to the mortal plane.

“___? ___! ___ wake up!” you heard muffled yells.

Your eyes opened slowly, but it was too dark to see anything. Your entire body ached. Bitter chills began to set in as you realized you were sopping wet, making the wintry air even more unbearable.

You drop back into a state of unconsciousness, but you swore you still faintly heard someone calling out your name.

“You didn’t have to come here yourself.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I lost her parents. I can’t afford to lose her too. Why the fuck didn’t you step in immediately?”

“You ordered me to observe her, and that’s exactly what I did. She would be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“I’m gonna kill that bloodsucker myself.”

“...Yoongi…?” you weakly called out, your eyes still closed.

“___?!?” you heard the men scramble to your side.

The sheets you were wrapped in were warm. The biting cold that hurt your bones had faded away. Your body ached beyond belief, and you didn’t have the strength to sit yourself up.

“___, are you okay? I’ll get you some water,” a familiar voice said. It must be Jungkook.

“___? Are you awake?” Yoongi’s voice was much closer now.

“Yoongi?” you repeated while your eyes slowly opened to adjust to the light.

“Oh my god. Thank god you’re okay,” Yoongi pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“We really thought you were done for,” Jungkook handed you a glass of water.

“I thought I was too. I really think I died for a little bit. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but all I can recall is a bright light and maybe a forest? I think Yoongi was there?” you replied in a daze.

“Well, I was the only person with you until Yoongi showed up so I’m not sure about that. Unless you mistook me for Yoongi, which I take offense to,” Jungkook half smiled before taking a serious tone, “I saw him dump you in the lake. Why didn’t he drain you first?”

“Extremely tactless of you, Jungkook,” Yoongi admonished.

“He hasn’t harmed a living person in a long time. Well, except for my parents,” you softly answered.

“Come to think of it, he didn’t drink your parents’ blood either,” Yoongi stated.

“Please don’t hurt him. Please leave him alone. He won’t hurt anyone,” you begged.

“He hurt you, ___. For that, he needs to die,” Yoongi said sternly.

“I poisoned myself,” you admitted.

“What?” Yoongi and Jungkook said in unison.

“I...I love him. I told him to flee and live in peace after I sacrificed myself,” you began to cry.

“Are you stupid?” Yoongi asked in disbelief, “That thing killed your parents!”

“In self defense! They wouldn’t leave him alone after he told them numerous times to back off!”

“How do you know that? How do you know he wasn’t lying?” Yoongi argued.

“I can tell! You of all people should know that a vampire hunter doesn’t survive for long unless they can detect deceit in any and every form.”

“Sir, pardon me, but I think she’s telling the truth,” Jungkook interjected.

“Unbelievable. You too, Jungkook? Are you in love with the vampire too?” Yoongi scoffed.

“No. I just believe in her. When has ___ ever deviated from a mission? She’s your top agent. I don’t think she’d let herself get swept up by seductive charms,” Jungkook reasoned on your behalf, “I spoke with her yesterday. There was no trace of magic on her. Hopefully my word as your second highest agent means something. Plus, I’ve seen her express more emotion this past week than I have her entire life.”

“Jungkook,” you gratefully smiled at him.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do then? Just let him go without any consequences? I will not let your parents’ deaths go unavenged,” Yoongi crossed his arms.

“Let me talk to him,” you requested.

“What are you gonna say?” Jungkook joined you on the bed.

“I…” you trailed off.

What can you say to him? For one, he thinks you’re dead. You can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. Anger? Sadness? Maybe he would be temporarily happy if you returned to him. However, it wouldn’t be long until your betrayal hurts him again.

“I just want to see him,” you finally say, “I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi shook his head, “I’m not sending you back without a plan.”

It took three days before you fully regained your strength. Yoongi and Jungkook took turns taking care of you. Jungkook offered to help you bathe, but you turned him down with a glare.

“Can HQ function properly without you?” you asked Yoongi in the kitchen.

He turned around quickly, surprised that you’re out of bed, “___! Sit down, don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I’ve been in bed for too long,” you shooed him away.

“I guess we can all have dinner together at the table tonight. I made fried chicken,” Yoongi said triumphantly, “Also, I haven’t had a day off in years. The VEC can handle itself for a little bit longer.”

“The chicken smells amazing, Yoongi. I’m gonna take a shower because I feel and smell disgusting.”

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Jungkook materialized out of nowhere.

“Sure, you wanna help me take a shower?” you peered up at him.

“Are you being serious?” Jungkook’s doe eyes widened.

“Yep. The only condition is that I’m going to kill you afterwards,” you deadpanned.

“Mm so you’d still want to take at least one full shower with me,” Jungkook teased.

“Shut up, bunny boy,” you rolled your eyes.

You could hear Yoongi chuckle to himself behind you. It must be a relief to see you back to normal and bickering with Jungkook as if nothing happened.

Flashbacks of your last encounter with Taehyung filled your head as warm water cleansed your body. You didn’t know what you’d do, but you made up your mind. You needed to see him. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again. You longed to feel his soft lips on yours.

Dinner was full of smiles and playful banter. The food was delicious (fried chicken was Yoongi’s speciality) and it tasted even better since you hadn’t been able to eat solid food in days.

“So, what are we gonna do now that ___ is feeling better?” Jungkook questioned with a mouth full of food.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” you affirmed.

“Again, what are you going to talk about?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

The rest of the evening was spent devising a plan. It took a lot of convincing by both you and Jungkook, but Yoongi finally gave in. It seemed like even Jungkook was hesitant about the plan, but backed you up nonetheless. Jungkook and Yoongi would be your backup in case things went south.

The next day you drove to Taehyung’s home. The drive that you once happily made now brought you dread. You had no idea how Taehyung would react. You just prayed that he wouldn’t kill you on the spot.

It was now well into the winter season. Snow covered the ground and frosted the windows of Taehyung’s weathered home. Knocking on the front door may not be the best move, but it’s what you decided to do. There was no answer. You tried to turn the knob to find that the door wasn’t locked at all.

You snuck through the front door, cautious not to make any sounds. Something was amiss. Someone as cautious as Taehyung would never leave their front door unlocked. The house was eerily quiet.

He was nowhere to be found on the first floor. You journeyed up to the second story in the hopes of finding him. A rustling from his room was heard.

You tiptoed to his room, the door was wide open. Taehung was staring out of his bedroom window. The world seemed still for a moment. You quietly walked into the room, and realized that the room was filled with bouquets. Flowers ranging from lillies, chrysanthemums, carnations, and roses made the room smell sickly sweet.

“Taehyung,” you called out to him.

He turned to you to reveal his tear streaked face. His eyes were red and puffy. He cast a disinterested gaze at you before he shooed you away with one hand.

“Go away. You’re not real. When will this hell end?” he sighed.

“Tae, my darling, I am real,” you approached him slowly.

“My own imagination won’t let me live down my guilt, huh? I suppose I deserve it,” he replied sadly, turning back to face the window.

“Taehyung, I’m right here, dumbass,” you say with more conviction as you hug him from behind.

He jumped at your touch, whipping around to face you with inhuman speed. His cold hands gently cupped your face, as tears began to fall from his eyes.

“How? There’s no way you can be real. There’s no way that you’re ___,” he cried out, hugging you tightly.

“You better believe it, Taehyuung. I didn’t come back from the dead to be ignored,” you tried to joke, but your voice gave you away.

It was a bittersweet reunion. Tears freely fell, wet kisses were shared, and best of all, you were in each other’s arms again. Any fear you had regarding awkward tensions had dissipated.

Taehyung held you in his arms as you recounted the past few days. You came clean to him about being a vampire hunter, and about how you were the VEC’s top hunter. You started to cry again as you told him about the inner turmoil you struggled with ever since you met him. Taehyung listened intently to everything you said, clutching you closely the entire time.

“The President of the VEC knows that you’re here?” he asked after you finished.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Is he going to kill me?” he seriously inquired.

“He may try, depending on the choices you make today,” you replied.

“What choices do I have? I’ll receive any consequences you deem fit,” he kissed your forehead.

“How do you feel about working for the VEC? It took a lot of arguing, but Yoongi agreed that if I can keep you in check, you would be allowed to work with me. However, one slip up and you’re dead. Those were his words exactly,” you explained.

“What exactly does a ‘slip up’ entail?” he questioned.

“Killing and/or eating any humans. You would only be allowed to kill vampires. The VEC would ensure that blood will always be provided to you to avoid any hunger killings,” you laced his fingers between yours, as if this was any normal casual conversation.

“My ultimatum is that I either work for the VEC to kill my own kind or to die? Is that correct?” he clarified.

“That sounds pretty harsh. But yes, those are your only options.”

“What if I kill all of you instead?”

“Okay, you have three options then.”

“But only one of them will allow me to spend my life with you,” he replied gently.

“You’ll do it? You’ll work with me at the VEC?” your eyes lit up.

“If it means I get to be with you, of course. Vampires are solitary creatures anyway. I have no remorse for my kind that resort to needless violence,” he planted a tender kiss on your lips.

“In that case, I have one more condition. This is a personal request,” you whispered.

“Anything for you, my darling,” Taehyung cooed.

“Turn me.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, stunned by your request. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I finally found a real reason to live, and it’s you. I had just been going through the motions until I met you. Please, Taehyung. I want us to stay like this. Forever,” you pleaded.

“Do you know what you’re asking, ___? You’ll be dead, just like me. You’ll be dependent on feeding on human blood. I’ve had countless years of practice, but the hunger can sometimes become uncontrollable,” Taehyung tried to reason with you.

“I would have you to help me through all of that,” you stroked his cheek.

“What if the VEC decides to hunt us down?”

“Then we can flee together. Or we can fight them. I don’t care, as long as we’re together. You don’t have to do it right now, but just know that I want it,” you say in a defeated tone.

“If you’re sure,” Taehyung gripped a handful of your hair and tilted your head back, “I’ll do it.”

“Then do it. Bet you won’t,” you teased to hide your nervousness.

He chuckled at your response. He peppered gentle kisses along your neck, before licking a long stripe along it. The tingling sensation made you moan. Taehyung’s hand found its way between your thighs. He slowly began to rub your clit while seductively whispering in your ear.

“I’ve been dreaming of doing this since the first time I saw you,” he growled.

You took off your pants to grant him easier access to your intimate spots.

“Good girl,” he praised, slipping a finger into you.

You moaned as he added another one. You felt your body clenching as he brought you closer to your climax. His fingers curled perfectly and his pace quickened. He had simultaneously been kissing your neck the entire time.

“You smell so fucking good, darling,” his deep voice resonated in your ear, “I can’t promise that this won’t hurt. But I do promise to fuck your brains out after.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. You had been holding out long enough. You reached your high as his sharp fangs bit into your neck. The initial puncture hurt, but it began to feel better as soon as Taehyung lapped up the blood. Taehyung suckled your neck as his fingers played with your clit.

“T-tae t-that’s too much,” you struggled to say.

“Don’t act as if you can’t take it, darling,” Taehyung growled in response.

He threw you on your back. He let you have a second to catch your breath, as he tore off his blood stained shirt. He dove right back into feeding from you, but now his hard crotch was grinding against your wet exposed core.

“I have to warn you, this next part may be a bit unpleasant for you,” he stated as he licked the blood off of his lips.

This sight of a bloody Kim Taehyung was oddly erotic. Knowing that it was your blood on him strangely made it even more hot.

Taehyung bit his own wrist. He held his bleeding wrist over your mouth.

“Drink,” he ordered.

You did as you were told, hesitantly licked his wrist. The metallic taste caused you to cringe.

“It won’t work if you don’t do it,” he scolded.

You grabbed his wrist and brought it to your mouth. You sucked on the wound hard, swallowing as much as you could. Taehyung groaned, the sight of you feeding from him turned him on more than he could imagine. You couldn’t take it anymore after a few minutes. You stopped to get some air.

“That should be good enough, darling. Well done,” Taehyung kissed your forehead.

“How will I know if it worked?” you asked.

“It takes a little while for my blood to circulate throughout your body. It’ll happen, don’t worry. For now…” his voice trailed off as his hand returned to your pussy.

“Do you want me to make you feel good again?” he teased, his fingers lightly tracing your lips.

“I thought you promised that you’d ‘fuck my brains out’?” you deviously smiled.

“I do intend to make good on that,” he returned your sly smile.

He flipped you onto your stomach, and propped your ass up. He gave it a good slap, one that stung for a few seconds afterwards and immediately turned your ass red.

He ran his length along your pussy, coating himself with your juices. He teased you by slowly putting just the tip in before coming back out. You didn’t have the energy to be your normal cheeky self. You patiently waited for him to ease into you. His hand came around to grip your neck, forcing your head upwards.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he growled, as he finally gave you his entire length.

His hips bucked into you ferociously, his grip still firmly around your neck. Your neck was still sore from being bitten into, but at this point you didn’t care. You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, and Taehyung was drilling directly into your g spot.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he panted.

“Please fuck me as hard as you can. I really can’t keep up with you much longer,” you managed to say.

“Sure thing, darling,” Taehyung obliged.

He pounded into you harder with speed that you couldn’t handle. He let go of your neck, allowing you to collapse onto your chest. His hands gripped your ass instead. His strokes became sloppier, indicating that he was now close to his limit.

With a sudden grunt, Taehyung released his load into you, his hot semen filling you up. He leaned over to you, and you thought he was going in for a kiss, but he licked your neck instead. You didn’t realize that you were still bleeding. You turn to the side to give him better access. After the bleeding stopped, he cuddled you, pressing his chest against your back.

“You have the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted,” he kissed your ear.

“Thanks I guess? Have you ever tasted a diabetic? That might change your opinion,” you laughed.

“I can’t recall. I just know that no one has ever tasted better,” he squeezed you tighter, “Also creeping thistle.”

“Huh?” you turned to look at him in confusion. Was he speaking in code?

“You asked what kind of flower I thought you were before. I believe I can give you my answer now,” Taehyung replied thoughtfully.

“Okay I’ll bite. What does a creeping thistle look like?”

“You know those tall purple flowers you see on the sides of the road? Those are creeping thistles,” he answered. You paused to recall driving past them.

“Wait, those are weeds!” you cried out in disbelief, “You think I’m a pest like a weed?”

“They are weeds, yes. They are resilient, persistent, and can hurt you if you’re not careful around them,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Those don’t really sound like compliments--”

“But they also produce beautiful purple flowers that go unappreciated. Purple is my favorite color,” Taehyung interrupted you.

“Fine, I’ll take it since you said they’re beautiful or whatever,” you playfully rolled your eyes, but you were touched by the thought that went into his answer. You noticed you were growing colder by the second, and snuggled closer to Taehyung to try and produce some body heat. He noticed this and helped you get under the covers before cuddling with you again.

“You’re going to die tonight. Don’t worry, that’s part of the process. I’ll be by your side the entire time. You’ll be like me in the morning,” he kissed your forehead.

“Will it hurt?” you asked, slightly scared.

“The worst is over. The most excruciating part is when my blood begins to circulate in yours, but I think I successfully distracted you from that pain,” he smirked.

“Oh I’m sure that was the only reason you dicked me down senseless. Thank you for your generosity,” you laughed.

Your body began to feel heavy yet weightless at the same time. Panic began to set in. The feeling was similar to when you drowned in the lake. Your breathes became more strained as you struggled to inhale sufficient oxygen. Sensing your distress, Taehyung held you tighter and whispered a single word into your ear.

“Sleep.”

“You look pretty harmless.”

“I try to be, for the most part.”

“Jungkook! Get away from him. Don’t talk to him. Taehyung, if that’s even your real name, you’re on thin fucking ice. If ___ doesn’t wake up when you say she will I’ll put your pretty little head on a spike.”

“You think he’s pretty?”

“Shut up Jungkook.”

You slowly opened your eyes after hearing the men bicker. You woke up to find all three of them standing in front of the bed. Jungkook had an uncharacteristically somber look on his face while Yoongi looked gloomier than usual. You could tell that Taehyung had reverted back to his reserved state in their presence.

“Yoongi? Why are you here?” you questioned. You started to panic. Did Taehyung admit to turning you? You hadn’t even thought about how to break the news to Yoongi. If you weren’t dead now then you’d surely be dead after Yoongi found out.

“Your phone rang. I answered “Yoongles” who had some rather choice words for me. I told him that you were fine and resting. He barged in immediately after that,” Taehyung explained.

“Yoongi I told you that I would--”

“I’m beyond relieved that you’re still alive. I only called because it was urgent and--”

“The VEC was attacked,” Jungkook butted in.

“What?” you were shocked.

“We’re the only ones left,” Yoongi stated.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #bangtanshadowfamily #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bts vampire #bts angst #vampire taehyung #taehyung angst #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic

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captainseaweedbrains · 3 years

Text

The Hunger Games: Ch. 5

I am finally getting around to writing up thoughts. Life am I right? So I’m not only behind, but starting a bit later on my chapter thoughts.

Here are my rambling thoughts and emotions on chapter 5:

"Good news, though. This is the last one. Ready?" I get a grip on the edges of the table I'm seated on and nod. The final swathe of my leg hair is uprooted in a painful jerk.// Girl, I feel you. We’ve all been there. #Noshaveforever

This has included scrubbing down my body with a gritty loam that has removed not only dirt but at least three layers of skin// It’s called exfoliating, Katniss, and I promise, it is good for your skin. If they can do one thing for you, it is this.

Okay. Like Katniss, I have a soft spot for her prep team. I can’t help it. They feel like they mean well and I’m a sucker for it. Even if they are prepping her for death. 💀

He gives his orange corkscrew locks a shake and applies a fresh coat of purple lipstick to his mouth.// I wonder if SC thought of the most gaudiest looks and just rolled with it. Probably. But some of these outfit choices just seem so out there that I have such a hard time picturing it. Am I alone on this? My fashion sense is that of a bygone era. So maybe that’s why. What is high fashion? Not me. That’s what.

Octavia, a plump woman whose entire body has been dyed a pale shade of pea green // Why would you want to look like a Sim? Why is that in style here?

"Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" says Flavius, and they all laugh.

I force my lips up into a smile to show how grateful I am. "Thank you," I say sweetly. "We don't have much cause to look nice in District Twelve."

This wins them over completely. // Katniss!! I love you. Never change. I do love how other worldly each party sees the other. Maybe it’s a comment on colonialism in that sense shut up Terri Your English degree is showing BUT how Katniss views them as strange birds rightly so because one legit probably looks like a Sim and them viewing her as NOT HUMAN even though she definitely looks the more normal in the room and I stand by that Where was I going with this? It just feels a bit Two Worlds colliding. Okay. Moving on.

Just how filthy was Katniss? Like she definitely bathed before coming. Twice in one day. So what is their standard here? I don’t want it because it’s probably too much effort. #lazy

It's hard to hate my prep team. They're such total idiots.// My thoughts exactly.

I cannot stress how much I love how blunt SC makes Katniss’ thoughts. It feels so human to me and I don’t always see that in writing. It’s nice.

Am I alone on wondering if Cinna has that eyeliner tattooed on? I don’t know why that’s always my first thought with the second being “ouch.”

I do love how Katniss is always thrown when her pre-perceptions of the Capitol are challenged by *the few* people like Cinna.

I saw someone point out how Katniss remembers a lot of details like the stylists and past years winners and their strategies and I’m wondering if it’s more like how I know stuff on like the Kardashians that I don’t really want to know or care about knowing. Just facts living in her head rent free. But she remembers a lot of details on the Games.

He presses a button on the side of the table. The top splits and from below rises a second tabletop that holds our lunch.// The future 1950s ads promised and Disney Channel’s Smart House made those in my generation fear. That or a super fancy automat.

Unpopular opinion, but I absolutely hate when Katniss goes on about the food and how to make dishes. I think it’s so boring to read. Even one sentence about what everyone is eating dulls me.

What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?//Okay, I know we kind of already have this luxury to an extent, but I too want to press a button and my food is magically there, in my home, already made. #queenlazy

My heart saddens when Katniss wonders what people do in their free time. She is a CHILD. *cries*

Okay. So I know Katniss has boasted about concealing her thoughts, but is she REALLY good at it? She gets called out a lot by practical strangers. I will cling to my headcanon that she is truly an open book and just believes she’s sneaky like that and Peeta pretends she’s succeeding at later in life. Is this canon? Maybe? Don’t @ me

SC’s commentary of sexualizing young teens and kiddos is amazing and yes, please keep coming at us like this, Suzanne.

Also those poor, naked children. Not only were they going to their deaths, but they literally were paraded around on national television buck naked.

I'll be naked for sure, I think...Naked and covered in black dust, I think.//An example of why I just love her narration. I crack up every time at the clear doom in her “voice”

He sees my expression and grins.//A true madman because I can only assume her face is that of horror.

I am still mad at the scaly-looking outfits the movie gave us and how they made her hair look

It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.//He is a madman. We accept it and move on from here

*Peeta enters* *Cue my glee*

*He is my favorite and that favoritism will show*

*Listen I am here for the messages on war and our consumer culture SC is providing*

*But I will not hide why I’m really here rereading these books*

*WEEPS* SHE IS RELIEVED TO SEE PEETA

"What do you think?" I whisper to Peeta. "About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," he says through gritted teeth.//Don’t touch me. The teamwork they already share.

Haha I just imagine Peeta has that big smile on his face all “Haha I want to die right now”

THEY’RE LAUGHING. Precious beans.

I guess we're both so nervous about the Games and more pressingly, petrified of being turned into human torches, we're not acting sensibly.// That or you both are talking to your crushes and are feeling giddy about it. Don’t deny it Katniss. We see you

Lmao Katniss’ enthusiasm for D1 cracks me up

Cinna over here just lighting people on fire and relieved it worked properly. This man, I swear

She calls him dazzling. Be still my heart.

Also I still don’t understand the true purpose of Cinna presenting them as united. Maybe I’ll get a refresher later on. Is it just to make them stand out more because they’re united? I don’t understand this angle at all. So #SameKatnissSame

Lmao or maybe Peeta’s the one who is all “Idk, but *sings* I wanna hold your hand...”

Or not. But you bet Peeta is pumped. He’s not naked on national television and he’s holding his crush’s hand. Peak day for Peeta Bram Mellark, with all things given.

I do hope they are waving correctly.

I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.//I’m FINE. Totally FINE that this will be how she views him for the rest of the series. FINE.

Narrator: She was not fine.

How absolutely sad that she mentions how the Capitolites took the effort to look in the program for their names. How they waste CHILDREN’S LIVES.

But I shall focus on her gaining confidence and Katniss Everdeen legit getting caught up in the moment where she is blowing kisses at them. The power of a great outfit, amirite?

Someone throws me a red rose. I catch it, give it a delicate sniff, and blow a kiss back in the general direction of the giver. A hundred hands reach up to catch my kiss, as if it were a real and tangible thing.//Oh my god. So Extra

Everyone wants my kisses.//Peeta wants those kisses

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please.// I am crying as I think about their interaction in the same square in Mockingjay, when she tries to take the nightlock pill and he stops her. “I’ll never let go, Jack”

SC can describe Snow however she wants, I will forever see Donald Sutherland and only that. Even when Snow is a teenager I picture Donald. The power of Donald Sutherland.

I love that she doesn’t realize she’s still holding his hand. If Portia had enough time to spray them down, she’s been holding on for awhile. Katniss, explanation? 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often," he says. "They suit you." And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me. // AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE FEELS WARMTH RUSH THROUGH HER

THE SHY FLIRTING

PEETA, YOU SHY SLY BEAN OF A FOX

The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.//Yeah, for catching a dangerous thing called FEELINGS.

Katniss, how does *kissing* him help matters here? You clearly caught wind he was flirting and your first thought was *le kiss* ???????

These two, I swear

And Katniss is just so smol having to stand on her *tiptoes* to kiss his cheek. #teamsmol

Onward to the next chapter!

#The Hunger Games #thgagain #My thoughts #Terri reads The Hunger Games #Books

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lo-55 · 4 years

Text

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 4

Loss.jpeg

Night has fallen on Chaldeas. Though the globe still casts its red glow across the room, the doom of humanity, it’s too late and Ichigo has been awake for too long for the grief to wash across him like so many waves right now.

He’s summoned another servant today, with the help of technology and Saint Quartz and Cu Chulainn, of course. It was maybe his fault that he now had two celtic servants. One a caster with vicious loyalty but a habit of hitting on girls, and another that avoided women like the plague and followed Ichigo like the most desperate of puppies.

So now he has four servants to keep up with, and so he’s tired .

They go off to the next singularity soon. Somewhere in England, in the late nineteenth century. He should really be resting. Getting ready for the next fight. Letting Olga Marie try an fail to teach him even the simple but powerful magecraft that she and Cu specialize in.

Instead, Ichigo finds himself standing in the doorway to the Chaldeas observation room, looking not at the ominous depiction of their future, but the man standing in front of it.

Romani Archiman. Dr. Roman. His shoulders are tense and drawn and his hair is out of its usual pony tail. He looks as tired out as Ichigo feels. When no one’s watching, right now, his green eyes are dull and his humor has faded. When had he last slept? When had any of them?

Mash kept reminding him how important it was to get proper sleep, and maybe it was easier for demi-servants than it is for humans. He doesn’t know. He never thought to ask.

Ichigo comes to a stop beside him.

It is a testament to his exhaustion that Roman doesn’t even notice Ichigo enough to react until he’s been standing there for nearly a full minute. When he does he jumps, startling and in the space between breaths Roman’s demeanor shifts. His eyes crinkle with a smile and he turns to Ichigo, a dozen times more cheerful than he’d been mere seconds before. It’s a startling contrast. From one face to another in less time than it took Ichigo to even realize he’d seen him looking so serious.

Roman was not a serious man. He had a tendency to jump around and get overly excited over seemingly nothing at all. Like cake, and slacking off and a blog he’s obsessed with that is, somehow, still posting online even though the world outside is nothing more than ash and fading memory. Ichigo personally suspects that it’s a prank put together by Da Vinci.

That artist is something of nuisance.

“Ichigo!” Roman’s smile is hard to spot as a fake, when Ichigo doesn’t know to look for it. Now that it is, it’s still hard but he can see the slant to his eyes, the tiny purse of his mouth. Ichigo is no genius, but he likes to think Roman is his friend. And so he does his best to learn to read him.

“Did you need something?” Roman asks, peering curiously at him. Something under Ichigo’s skin hums and crawls. The hiding sets his teeth on edge. Maybe it's because Ichigo himself is such a straight forward person, but he doesn’t much chair for people who hide like this.

And maybe it’s hypocritical, but at the moment he, frankly, doesn’t give a shit.

“You need to sleep,” Ichigo says, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Oh! Ah, I just have a little more work to do here before I can do that. See, Sonya wasn’t feeling well earlier and-”

“Roman,” Ichigo grabs his elbow and watches the man jump, like he’s been shocked. He acts like no one’s ever laid a hand on him before in his life. “Go to sleep. We’re not going to a singularity tomorrow. You can afford rest.”

Still, Roman’s smile turns, tilts, like he’s confused, and this close Ichigo realizes that he’s thrumming with anxiety.

No wonder he can’t sleep.

Ichigo is not a genius. And he’s not the best at offering comfort, especially not at times like this. This is a time when they have to step up, when there is no other choice for them than to stand together, and he can’t say he’s entirely sympathetic with the doctor.

But he pulls him, by the elbow, not giving him time to argue as he manhandles him towards the hallway that leads to the dorm rooms. Most of them are empty now, their occupants frozen in cryogenic coffins. Anyone who isn't working is frozen, in fact. All of the staff that had died during the initial explosion had been dragged out, sometimes in pieces, and laid in the snow and ice outside the facility. It would preserve them for the time being. And with Ichigo around, so too were the ghosts.

It had started with Marie, but by now most of the dead staff have started to drink in his reitsu, to supplement themselves. If they take enough, they can even interact with the world around them, though it leaves Ichigo exhausted if too many do it at once. It’s like vampires, but they're eating his soul instead of drinking his blood. And in any case, it keeps the chains in the chest from eating their way up.

Marie had explained, very vaguely because her family specialized in astronomy not ghosts, that if those chains vanished entirely they would have less ghosts and more ghouls. Which was bad.

They pass twelve of them on the way to their destination.

“Ichigo, please,” Roman tries to tug his arm out of Ichigo’s hand, but out of the two of them it’s no contest who the stronger one is. “I have work-”

“You’re no good if you work yourself to death!” Ichigo snaps. He closes the door behind them with a tap to the pad on the wall and tosses Roman bodily onto the bed.

Roman scrambles to sit, blinking at their surroundings in confusion.

It’s almost the same as the last time they’d been there, during their first meeting ever. The only difference is that there’s a pair of jeans in the corner and a picture of his sisters and his mom on the desk under the window now.

“This is…”

“My room,” Ichigo finishes for him. He runs his fingers through his hair, his customary scowl in place. This was probably stupid but-

“You said you come here to relax, right? To goof off and slack on your duties. Well, relax. Marie’s still around so it’s not like you’re the acting director anymore.”

Roman gapes at him like a fish.

“But- But-”

“Shut up,” Ichigo orders tersely. He’s already second guessing his initial reaction but he wasn’t gonna leave Roman there to stare at their doom and he doesn’t have the damn poetry of words to convince him that they’ll rise above their challenges. “And go to sleep. Chaldea will be here in the morning, and so will the past.”

Roman slowly gathered his limbs together underneath him. He looks at Ichigo, confusion written across his face and it’s all Ichigo can do not to snap at him. Roman is a doctor and grown ass man. He should know better than to neglect himself.

To be fair, Goat Face is also and doctor and grown ass man, and Ichigo doesn’t trust him to so much as feed himself.

“O-kay,” Roman says at last, drawing the words out and his face finally softens, with fondness and truth. Some of the lie slips away. “Okay. But what about you, Ichigo? You need to sleep too. You’re supporting multiple servants and multiple ghosts, now.”

Ichigo hadn’t even thought about that.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I dunno. I can just sleep in a chair or something.”

“No!” Roman shakes his head. “No, that’s not acceptable. As your doctor I have to advise against it.”

“ ‘as your doctor’? What the hell kinda crap are you going on about?” Ichigo scowls deeper.

“You need to sleep, in a real bed. Honestly. We can just share.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a sleep over in a movie!”

“... You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

“Eh?!”

“Fine, whatever,” Ichigo was too tired to deal with this. In the morning he’ll kick himself, and maybe Roman, but for now all he can think of is turning the lights off and getting some sleep, at last.

And if it’s easier to sleep when the living are next to him and not when he’s haunted only by figurative ghosts instead of literal ones, no one will even be the wiser.

It’s not so much a house as it is a room where he can simply exist.

It’s small, single story and a basement that still smells faintly like lightning and copper and a strange magecraft. One that he can’t quite place, one that he’s never encountered before.

Ichigo doesn’t ask about the old owners and Waver Velvet, who gets pissed every time Ichigo doesn’t call him something stupid like Lord Elmeloi the fifth or whatever, hadn’t volunteered any information.

Ichigo spends a few minutes looking around. There’s a fold out couch in the living room and the kitchen is stocked with none perishables and frozen meats. The bedroom has runes carved above the door and the window, offering Ichigo a modicum of protection from what might be out there. There’s a bed big enough for his whole family and then some, and the closet has a few changes of clothes. Three suits, of all things, and a familiar mystic code.

White and black, it’s a body suit he’d been given early on. His Chaldea combat uniform.

The material feels like silk but Ichigo knows better than to think it is. It’s tough enough to hold up to arrows and fire and more than he wants to think of. He’d only taken blunt force trauma when he’d worn it. There were three spells woven into the fabric, and Ichigo wonders what it will be like to wear it again before he dismisses the idea.

Ichigo wonders just what Waver had thought Ichigo was going to be doing here, that he needed this.

He goes to the basement.

It’s bigger than he would have expected, and there are weapons lined on the walls. Spears, swords, and bows, and a range setup with dummies stuffed with straw.

There are no windows, to hide him from curious eyes. Any non-mags who finds out about magic is sentenced to death, and that is part of why Ichigo hasn’t told his family about his escapades. His wars.

Kon walks past him at the foot of the stairs. Along another wall is a shelf built into the stone foundations, filled with texts and materials that Ichigo can recognize instantly.

He’d never been good at spell work on his own, but he can use the magic equivalent of chemistry just fine. And, on top of that, after Babylonia a certain goddess had magnanimously taken time out of her ever so busy schedule to teach him the graceful art of gem magic.

Or rather, a stuck up deity who Ichigo had bribed to be his friend had taught him how to shove magic energy into rocks he could throw at people to blow them the fuck up.

Combined with the runes that Cu had spent years drilling into his head, Ichigo could survive a regular mage battle fine on his own, if he had time to prepare. And war has made him paranoid, so he starts taking stock of everything that he’d been given.

Evil bones, dragon scales, eternal gears, crystals of several types and a mystic gunpowder. A few feathers, and a jar of scarabs. Chalk, too, and strong thread that’s more like fishing line.

There’s also, definitely for the best, a fire extinguisher in the corner.

“What kinda place is this, Ichigo?” Kon finally asks. He pokes at a jar of red liquid on top of the thick desk that Ichigo has been given. It’s all and all not very personalized, but for Ichigo’s purposes it’s more than enough. Especially given that Ichigo’s purpose was to sit somewhere where his dad wasn’t. Where he didn’t have to think about the spirits or the hollows or the shinigami, however briefly that might be.

“It’s just a house, Kon. A… friend of mine owns it. Think of it as our secret hide out,” Ichigo waves his hand around, idly.

“A secret hide out huh… I get it!” Kon bounced towards him, his soft paws scuffing lightly on the concrete floor. “This is a place to bring girls!”

Ichigo snorts and punts the plushie towards the stairs. “What girl is gonna hand around a creapy basement with you, huh? What are you a serial killer?”

“More like a lady killer! Or I could be, if I just had a body to call my own. Hey, you said I could borrow yours, remember!”

“I didn’t forget. Sorry, we’ve been busy,” Ichigo steps over him and climbs back up to the totally normal looking house above, with Kon on his heels. He lets out a soft breath. It feels too warm above ground, but Ichigo opens the windows and lets the sunlight pour inside upon his skin, lets the wind pull at his hair and dance through the drapes. “I’ll let you have it tonight, okay?”

“But nothing in this town ever happens at night!” Kon whines. When Ichigo sits on the couch he climbs up to flop across his lap, pouting.

“Just try to stretch your legs, and you can have some time on the weekend, deal?”

Kon considers him suspiciously before he nods, once.

“Deal.”

They sit together in the sunlight, in the foreign house, with the spring air cooling them until his phone goes off. Rukia, of course, because work doesn’t give him much of a break.

It’s alright. Sometimes a few minutes to breath is enough.

* *

Rukia Kuchiki is not the first Shinigami that Ichigo has ever encountered.

There was another, a man who had taken to following their group around North America.

They met in 1783. He was… strange. And admittedly, it was a strange situation that they had found each other in. He’s pretty sure Shinigami don’t normally hang around Alcatraz, but what does he know? The island is infested with all sorts of monsters and guarded by one of the oldest heroes of written legend.

Beowulf. Powerful and vicious, battle hungry but not necessarily cruel. He’d even let them pass into the fortress after just a ‘test’ fight against a dragon.

They, or rather Ichigo, find the Shinigami with Sita, sitting next to her in the deepest prison of Alcatraz. Florence Nightingale is somewhere above them, charging headlong after him with Rama strapped to her back. He’s in bad shape, his curse slowly consuming his body, and Sita is their only chance to save him. Even without Beowulf the prison is crawling with dangerous creatures of all types.

Ichigo finds Sita first.

But she is not unguarded and Ichigo curses himself for leaving his servants upstairs to handle the chaos there.

Ichigo is more than capable of handling celtic soldiers, who fall beneath his vicious attacks and his steadily strengthening magic. The more he uses it the stronger it gets, and his body is adapting quickly to the strain it puts upon him. It’s only been a year or so and he can already go toe to toe with most average mages. A simple soldier with a spear is well within his abilities.

This man, Ichigo can tell with a second of inspection, is not.

He doesn’t have the same energy as a servant. And he’s dressed in clothes that aren’t celtic or american. He’s dressed like he’s from japan.

A black kosado and hakama. All black, with curly brown hair that’s nearly past his shoulders and brown eyes that almost fool Ichigo into thinking that he’s harmless.

But people are more themselves when they aren’t being watched, and this man, older than Ichigo and, he realizes, most certainly dead, has no idea he’s been seen.

He looks at Sita like she’s some kind of puzzle, like some game that he doesn’t know all the rules to. Ichigo stays a moment, and watches him watch her until Sita realizes that she has a visitor.

“Oh!”

She leans forwards on the bed, and right through the stranger, who half turns to look at Ichigo over his shoulder. He’s not interested in him though, not really. He can see it.

Roman is hiding something.

Something important, and he doesn’t know what but he does know now how to recognize when someone is hiding something. Even if it wasn’t for Roman, it’s not only heroes he’s summoned. There is an assassin class, and his heroes have their flaws. Their secrets. Each singularity is it’s own mystery and they are full of liars and tricksters and more than ever before Ichigo has a bone deep appreciation for people who are plain and true.

Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest and stares right at the ghost.

“You’re Sita, right? Rama’s wife?”

“My Lord Rama? Is he here?” she rushes to her feet, all red hair and fire the flutters like an ember on the wind. Not like Rama, who burns anything in his path if he must.

Ichigo nods, once. He lets the stranger inspect him too. There’s the smallest amount of stubble around his chin, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. And he’s armed. Saber class.

“Yes. But he’s injured. We need your help to heal him.”

Ichigo finally breaks eye contact with the ghost. He steps backwards and points his fist at the lock on the door. Sita hurries to brace herself and he shoots it off with a vicious Gandr. When he uses them on living things, he’s lucky to stun them. On inanimate objects, they blow up. He doesn’t get it, but that’s his life. Becuase fuck him, obviously.

“Yes!” Sita agrees eagerly. Her smile is equal parts soft and fierce. “If I can be of use to him, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Okay,” Ichigo stands away from the prison door. “Stand back,” he orders, and she steps back into the cell, against the door. The ghosts watches him raise his hand, holding up his fist at the door. The mystic code hums across his skin and he feeds his own mana into it. There’s a flash of pale blue and red and the lock explodes in shards of steel, just as they’re joined by others.

Rama comes stumbling around the corner, his fine clothes stained with blood and his body frayed at the edges. He looks bad. The hold in his chest is starting to gape and glow gold at the edges.

Ichigo hears the ghost suck in a sharp breath and he takes a step towards Rama before Ichigo cuts him off, blocking him from his friends. Sita rushes to him.

“Sita!” Rama reaches out around him and Ichigo can’t understand how he’s even on his feet. How deep does his love for his wife run? “Damn it, my vision is blurry. I can’t see anything…”

“I’m here!” Sita falls to his side as Rama collapses, finally succumbing to his festering wound. Ichigo watches, his hands clenched at his sides as Mash explains about Cu Chulainn Alter, and his Gae Bolg.

Ichigo stands back, with his Cu at his side. The caster leans on his staff, watching Sita gently stroke her husbands hair. They will never meet, and it drives pain into Ichigo’s chest on their behalf.

“Well. Fuck.” Cu says bluntly.

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah. That sums it all up pretty well.”

The ghost tries to take another step, but Ichigo catches his hand.

He spins, his brown eyes wide. “You- You can see me.”

“Well yeah. No shit,” Ichigo says aloud. Caster peers at him curiously, but Ichigo just taps the corner of his eye. A ghost, and Cu nods and leans back again. Even amongst his heroic spirits he’s an oddity. Not all of them can see ghosts. Only the ones that attack them, and more than once has Ichigo had to forcibly guide them into striking true.

Cu is a bit better. He hasn’t told him explicitly but Ichigo suspects that Scathach is somehow related to the afterlife. The land of shadows sounds like it should be full of ghosts.

Ichigo let’s go when the ghost pulls at his hand, peering at Ichigo. It’s funny, watching someone pull a metaphorical mask onto their face. This one is a kind person, someone who’s harmless, but Ichigo can still see them. He is armed and his eyes betray him, as eyes so often do.

Sharp and intelligent. Like a cat watching him.

“I suppose you do have some reitsu. But to be able to see me, is still not an easy feat.”

Ichigo frowns. “I do? It feels like all of it’s being sucked out by everyone at Chaldea…”

“Excuse me?” he blinks at Ichigo a couple of times.

“Nevermind. There’s just some people who are sucking up my reitsu so they don’t disappear, you know?”

And now even the ghost was looking at him like he’s crazy. Great. Awesome.

The glittering glow of Sita’s body dissolving interrupts them, and Ichigo turns to face his servants with a hard clench of his jaw. Rama slowly sits up, sorrow over taking his features. Even in a holy grail war, he will never meet his wife again.

“We should go,” Ichigo says quietly. “We still have to go east. We have to finish what we started. Rama, are you ready?” Ichigo goes to him, and offers him his hand. Rama takes it and stands.

“Yes. My body does not falter. I renew my vows now, Master of Chaldea. I, Rama, King of Kosala, will fight at your side. I shall not be defeated again. This I swear!” He bows his head to Ichigo, this proud, powerful king.

“Yes,” Liz steps up, a noble countess with her chin lifted and her eyes defiant. “We will win, for you our master!”

“We will rip out the root of the infection,” Nightingale agrees, smacking her hands together. Her red eyes burn with a ferocity that would make lesser men tremble.

Mash nods, shortly and firmly. “I will put my faith in Master, and follow his lead.”

“You already know that I will strike down your enemies,” Medusa adds, her long hair swaying with the promise of poisons.

“Lead the way, Master,” Cu claps his shoulder and Ichigo looks each of the mover in turn. Finally, he speaks.

“I swear I told you to use my damn name. You’re all so dramatic.”

Cu laughs at him, and Ichigo starts the long walk. From Alcatraz to Washington.

Only now they have a tag along. The ghost insists on following them along, because apparently Ichigo and the singularity is dangerous enough to warrant his attention. Which is great .

“What do I call you then,” Ichigo asks, side-eying his newest companion.

He tilts his head, sending brown waves spilling across his shoulders.

“Mmmm. Kyo,” he says after a minute.

“...That is not a real name.”

* * *

“So, your friend, the Lord, how do you know him?”

Ichigo looks up at Rukia. She’s standing over his bed that night. Chad is asleep in the corner, passed out after a study session run long.

“Who, Waver? We met a while ago.”

Ichigo scoots back on the bed, until his back is to the wall and he can sit, criss cross, looking at her. Waver had come to town earlier, on business as much as to see Ichigo. They’d talked, briefly, in front of the school earlier until Ichigo had had to rush off. Not before Waver had extracted a promise to meet up with him a few days in the future. Apparently there was some weird shit going on in town that had nothing to do with Ichigo and his friends, but was now his problem because he was a mage.

A two bit one, but still.

“How?” Rukia asks, narrowing her eyes at him if only slightly.

Ichigo considers telling her everything, but it’s a bit too much to believe.

‘I time travelled for three years trying to stop the incineration of humanity and I met him as a demi servant and his old servant because he fought for a holy grail and oh yeah did I mention i punched god?’

Yeah, no. Even shinigami didn’t go time travelling. He’d checked. It didn’t help that most shinigami were so out of touch with the living world that even three hundred years ago they didn’t know much about human magics or the goings on. Before the fall of the age of gods humans and spirits had been closer, had almost lived together. Ereshkigal had told him some of how it worked, four thousand years ago, but he’s certain things have changed. For one, she is clearly not in charge of the afterlife anymore. Which begs the question of just where she had gone.

To the reverse side of the world? Or somewhere else entirely?

“After Chaldea,” he says instead, picking over his words with as much care as he can, “After the explosion of Chaldea, their patrons, the Clock Tower in London, sent someone to see what was happening. And to take stock in the situation. Waver was the one that they sent.

“Apparently he gets the ‘problem children’ a lot.” And that was what they were, really. He and Mash, they were just teenagers. Even now. Eighteen….

Eighteen is not enough years for what he’s seen, what he’s done. For the choices he’s had to make.

“No wonder they sent him for you,” Rukia snorts at him, but there’s a smile at the corner of her mouth and Ichigo fights not to return it. Instead he scowls, as he usually does.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively at her. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you wanna come with?”

“No,” she shakes her head and he stands and leaves her in his bedroom. His dad is in the clinic. He’s been avoiding Ichigo for weeks, ever since that day in the cemetery and Ichigo is fine with that. He’s still angry.

Yuzu and Karin are up in their own room, and the lower half of the house is quiet. Ichigo pours himself some water and takes a few minutes to calm himself. Waver has him on edge, and more than that…

Something is coming. He doesn’t know what, yet, but his instincts are hissing in the back of his mind, louder and louder ever since he took Rukia’s power as his own. Something is something. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Some change he has no idea how to see or stop.

His cup is covered in a thin layer of frost.

Ichigo stares down at it.

The cold spreads across the surface, white eating over the glass. Elegant swirls of frozen leaves spread out from his finger tips.

He pours out the water and puts the cup away, trying not to think about it.

Because even with Ichigo, even with magic and ghosts and all the other shit in his life, he’s never frozen anything. He isn’t fucking Jack Frost.

He goes back upstairs, trying not to think about it, and helps Rukia rouse Chad to send him on his way home. There’s work to be done. A smarter man would ask about the ice. Would mention it to Rukia. Would wonder if the two aren’t connected.

And Ichigo is not stupid, but he’s maybe a little too used to strange things happening and learning the why at a later date.

* * * *

The acrid smell of burning flesh sears into his mind. Into his soul. Choking him, smoke curled into his lung like an ash made cat that tears claws into the soft tissue.

It’s red. Red, red, red everywhere. Fire singes along the edges of reality. The earth hovers, red and burning and doomed from the start. Doomed from babylonia, doomed from the present and the now.

Mash lays in front of him. Crushed, broken. No shield, no armor, just a dead little girl, reaching for his hand.

Yuzu and Karin are sprawled apart from eachother and they never should be, never should be, because they are twins, they were born together nothing should ever tear them apart-

Isshin. Isshin and his mother, they lie beside a river that runs with fire instead of water. Bloody, broken, staring at Ichigo.

The air shifts and the glittering shine of gold spins around him with a scream. His servants, his friends, cut down and torn apart and left only as glitter that roars their betrayal at him. At his failure. He is the master, the center of power, but he cannot fight on his own. He is powerless in the face of the hulking monster that drags itself out of the rubble to kill him.

He takes a step back, fear clogging his throat. Lahmu crawl across the broken rubble of Fuyuli, of Uruk, of Rome and London and Camelot. His foot hits something. He doesn’t look down, he doesn’t need to. Orange and green and white. White and gold and black. Romani, laid to waste.

He is helpless. Powerless. His command spells are gone and he has failed. Lost.

Fire roars at his throat and-

He’s punched in the face by the smell of perfume.

Ichigo looks up at the sky. Pale blue, a few whisps of cloud floating across it.

He drinks in air. Air that tastes like flowers instead of ashes and death.

Something soft touches his shoulder and it’s only familiarity that keeps him from lashing out.

Lavender eyes peer down at him. It’s his hand on his shoulder. His Caster.

His Merlin.

“Wha- I’m in a dream?” Ichigo sits, slowly, and Merlin helps him up. A warm hand on his shoulder and guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Merlin shakes his head, mournfully. “I normally call you here before they can set in, but I was distracted this time…”

“Distracted,” Ichigo repeats dumbly. “Wait. So every time you’ve brought me here, it’s because I was going to have a nightmare?”

“I did tell you, once. Incubi are made of dreams. And I, as half of one, gain my sustenance out of them as well. Bad dreams are sour, so I don’t want yours to-”

“Cut the crap,” Ichigo elbows him lightly in the side. “Just tell me the truth. We’re friends and you don’t want to see me suffering.”

Merlin can only stare at him for a second. “... I always forget how brazen you are, Ichigo. You never have minced your words. You really consider me a friend, do you?”

“Of course I do! And don’t try to give me any shit about we can’t be friends because I’m human. I’m not anymore, remember. I’m a shinigami.”

“Yes, yes. And isn’t that ironic? I, unable to die, and you a creature made of death.”

“You make a bad philosopher. Stick to being a dreamer, Merlin.”

Merlin merely laughs at him, a softness in the wind, and Ichigo sits with him until the sun comes up outside his bedroom window.

* * * * *

What was with people and coming in through his window?

Ichigo stares at the man, Urahara, that is sitting on his window sill. Kon is having a minor panic attack in his arms, flailing around. Rukia has left. Vanished with only a note to tell them not to look for her and if she thinks Ichigo will listen to it, she doesn’t know him very well at all. Ichigo has never been one to abandon his friends, even if they don’t explain what’s happening or why they’re in trouble.

Ichigo will go after her, but first he needs to figure out how to turn into a shinigami again. Kon is no help, he’s too busy running around for Ichigo to dig his pill form out of his plush body. And this man…

His timing is too good. Is he some kind of clairvoyant, like Gilgamesh? Or just a man with far too many cards in his hand to play?

Whatever the case, Ichigo is strangely glad that he’s here. Without Rukia’s glove and with Kon losing his mind, Ichigo needs help to get out of his body.

“So you’ll pop me out of my body,” Ichigo says, eying his cane, “Just because Rukia is a regular customer. Is your shop really that slow?” He definitely has too much time on his hands.

“That’s right!” the man practically sings and Ichigo could swear for an instant his eyes were lavender instead of grey. He’s like a strange mix of Merlin and Da Vinci.

And isn’t that a scary thought?

“...Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate the help.”

Kisuke pushes his cane through Ichigo’s chest and he pops out the other side like a weasel.

Ichigo carefully lays his body in bed and covers it up. It’s almost two in the morning and normal humans are asleep, including his family. He picks a few small rocks out of his school bag, simple stones with straight lines carved onto them. He eyes Kisuke, still sitting in the window.

“When I get back from this, I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” he says, marching up to Kisuke, who flicks his fan out over his mouth. Only his eyes are visible and those are still hidden in shadow.

“Oh? I can’t imagine what you’d ask a simple shop keeper like me…”

“Plenty,” Ichigo says plainly. He plants his hand next to Kisuke’s head and leans over him. “But for now. Get out of my room.”

He pushes him straight out the window, and onto the lawn beneath. Ichigo figures that he’s probably tough enough to take a little tumble. He trusts Kisuke to be fine before he jumps out the window after him. He needs to get to Rukia. He can feel it. Something is happening.

His instincts hiss that he needs to move .

He follows the feeling of coolness and wind and snowflakes that he can almost see. It’s joined by another feeling, something clean and pale and just a little bit angry, thin threads that wrap together to be stronger.. Uryuu.

He needs to hurry.

Ichigo sprints across the city, pouring on his speed. Faster and faster until he swears he’s running on the wind.

He turns the corner.

Uryu on the ground, Rukia not far. Two Shinigami. Red hair and black. The red head with his sword lifted above Uryu’s head, ready to strike.

Ichigo swings his sword off his back and the streets cracks and erupts beneath the sudden force of his power. It throws the shinigami, Renji Abarai, off of his feet.

“Huh? Who are you? Who’s orders are you here on?” he barks.

Ichigo ignores him. He touches Uryu’s shoulder, making sure he’s still in one piece, and pours Mana into his human body. It should be enough to jump start his own healing process. Mana transference is about all Ichigo is good for anyhow.

“What did you…?” Uryu looks up at him, bewildered.

“Later,” Ichigo says. He blocks the blow that comes from behind, bracing himself against the ground.

“I get it,” Renji pushes down hard, his eyes wild. He feels like fire and venom and bone. “You’re the one that stole Rukia’s powers! Because of you, she’s going to be executed!”

Ichigo’s blood runs cold. Rukia. Executed? For helping him? For giving him the power to protect his friends, his family?

No. He will not allow it.

“That’s bullshit!” Ichigo throws him back, power surging through him. His own anger and the energy that Rukia has given him. Cold coursing through his veins. “Rukia was just helping, she saved us! Isn’t that what your job is?!”

“She broke the rules is what she did. What’s a few human lives to a shinigami? She should have never done that.”

A few human-

Ichigo throws himself at Renji with vicious abandon. Renji is fast but Ichigo is strong, Rukia is strong, and it’s her power that lets him swing his sword with utmost surety.

Still, it’s hard to keep up when Renji won’t shut up. Something about menos and children and then he asks Ichigo’s swords name.

He frowns and racks his brain. That feels like something he should know. On the tip of his tongue. His sword. Rukia’s sword. Does it have a name?

Renji takes his silence for ignorance and he’s not wrong.

He puts his sword in front of him and it glows faintly red. The taste of fire and bone is stronger.

“A shinigami’s zanpakuto is the true form of their soul, it’s their true power. And this is mine! Now Roar, Zabimaru!”

Ichigo watches the sword change, grow fangs and cracks. A Noble Fantasm? No, it’s much weaker. He looks at Renji, looks harder at his power. He’s strong, probably stronger than Ichigo but is he stronger than Ichigo and Rukia together? This will have to be a battle where he can’t rely on brute strength.

The sword swings and the cracks pull apart until it’s a glorified whip with teeth and Ichigo jumps back to dodge it. The stones weigh heavy in his pocket and his mind whirls. No longer a saber, no longer capable of simply attacking and slashing until he’s won.

“Give up already! You’re 2000 years too young to beat me!”

And maybe Renji would be right. Maybe he would be too much for Ichigo to handle, in another life. Maybe if he really was just a fifteen year old kid, shihakusho more green than black, he would leave him laying in a puddle of blood without breaking a sweat.

But Ichigo is not fifteen. He is eighteen and he has fought eight wars. He has ended extinction and walked the land of the dead, and demons, and stood amongst stars. He has fought and bled and killed and died, and he has done it all for his family, his friends.

And now.

Now these two are trying to take another friend. They are trying to steal Rukia, to punish her for saving him and giving him strength enough to fight.

And he will not allow it.

His temper howls, blood rushing into his ears and battle fury washes over his skin.

Beneath it, beneath that hot fire that has driven him for so much of his life there’s something else. Something cold and foreign, frost on a window pane in summertime, snow floating around a campfire.

He lunges for Renji.

Renji is forced to release his noble phantasm, his zanpakuto. It lashes out, a segmented whip that bites the pavement with terrible teeth. Ichigo takes it in stride, catches it’s glinting teeth in his own too-long blade and twirls it like spaghetti around a knife. The teeth catch and hold, Renji’s eyes go wide and Ichigo yanks him forward with his zanpakuto.

He takes one hand off his own sword and drives it into Renji’s jaw. His teeth click and blood spurts between his lips before he drops like a lead balloon.

With Renji at his feet Ichigo turns to face Rukia and the man in the white cloak. He tilts his long blade, letting Renji’s zanpakuto slide off. On the ground it glows faintly red and returns to its original form.

“Are you next then?” Ichigo asks, his voice careful and calm even as the wrold inside him rages. Plans pick up and he reads this mans strengths. He’s leagues ahead of Ichigo but even still…

Ichigo is not the type to run. He is not the type to give up. No matter that Rukia is screaming at him to. He won’t-

He twists and blocks the blow he had barely ever seen, his sword moving faster than his mind.

Surprise registers on the man’s face, muted and little more than a twist of his mouth and a twitch of his eyes. Ichigo shoves him away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Blood seeps out of his back. The cut it shallow, it won’t slow him down but the fact remains. He got hit.

Faster, whispers a voice in the back of his head. A memory, a premonition. He blocks the next attack but only just and under the force of the drawn sword, his own begins to crack. No. No, he will not lose, not like this.

He shoves the man back and flings one of the stones at him, shooting a burst of Mana through it. The man in white has to move fast to avoid the fire that erupts in front of him.

“Ichigo?” Rukia stares at him, her mouth open. “What was that?!”

“I’m not that great at magic,” Ichigo admits, tossing another stone up and down in his hand. He never takes his eyes off of his enemy. “In fact, I wouldn’t even call myself a real mage. I’m pretty second rate at this stuff. But this much… This much I can do.”

He shoots another stone at the shinigami in front of him, who’s name he never did get, and grins when he’s forced to release his own zanpakuto. He’s glad about it, but Rukia is screaming at him.

The air fills with glittering flower petals and Ichigo tastes steel, feels the weight of ‘Duty’ and ‘Honor’ and the scent of sakura blossoms wash across his skin.

They surge at him, a tidal wave of power, danger. Each one is a blade and Ichigo cannot dodge of block them all. Even still, he will not run. He will-

Protect Rukia!

Fine.

Cold chases through his body, Rukia’s power surges. Ichigo gives his strength over to it, pours his reitsu into the sword as he once did his saber’s and the sound of bells echoes around him.

A ribbon flutters graceful in front of his face and he swings, running on instinct alone.

The wave of flower petals is stopped in its tracks. Frozen in a circle of ice that reaches towards the sky.

Ichigo is aware, from the shock on the faces of the people around him, that he’s just done something impossible. Again.

Oh well.

He turns again to the Shinigami, bringing his blade in front of him. Not his, Rukia’s. He was going to save her-

“Rikujōkōrō.”

Ichigo shouted when light, six straight rectangles of it, slammed into his stomach. He froze, unable to move. The ice shattered and the blades inside of it floated back to their master, reforming into a single sword. This time, Ichigo couldn’t block. He could do nothing as the blade pierced him twice, and the light faded.

He tried. He did. He would crawl if he had to but-

“Stay alive, for just a little longer, Ichigo. And if you follow me, I will never forgive you.”

He can recognize what she’s doing. She’s drawing the man, Byakuya, and the newly awakened Renji away from him. She is protecting him, and the helplessness is acid on his tongue.

He was left, bleeding, dying, on the streets of Karakura.

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #well sorta #romani archaman #renji abarai #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #kyo (SCoF)#bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach/fate grand order #Kon bleach #Merlin Fate/Grand Order

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brw · 2 years

Note

doomreed for the ship game :)

do not argue with me. i see the light. re: cooking; victor can cook edible food but he doesn't do it often so he's not as good at it as he used to be, not that he'd ever admit it. reed can make maybe a lunch box for the kids and the one meal ben taught him how to make and literally nothing fuckin else. they would struggle without boris.

ship ask template

#ask games} answers #mariam 🐉#r: enemies to lovers slow burn (its been 60 years)#doomreed #tysm for asking!!!!!!!!!#ch: i believe we endure #ch: doom is no man's second choice!

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the way home | Ch. 5 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 3,705

Warnings: language, some violence

Read from the beginning or continue on

Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere | @not-sewell

------

The familiar sight of Port Monarque is a welcome one, despite the awaiting doom.

Her wrists bound with shackles, Elena sits between two officers as they row into the harbor in a jolly boat. She knows enough of the city to find a decent place to hide and formulate a plan -- if she can manage to escape their clutches. One of the officers makes crude remarks at her, knowing she can’t retaliate with the dirty rag stuffed into her mouth. Elena’s too busy scouring the ships anchored down along the port. She can’t be certain if Edward’s is among them or not, what with her poor vantage point and the endless spider web of rigging lines. If Salacia’s Fortune is here, it’s likely tucked away in a cove to hide from navy patrols.

The boat glides up beside one of the lower docks, some distance from the main thoroughfare. The officers tie to it before the crude one hoists Elena up and over his shoulder. He slaps her ass for good measure, ignoring her muffled threats as he climbs onto the dock. She hears the harbormaster’s approach. His low, gruff tone is almost familiar. Before she can struggle towards a better view, there’s the metallic cry of blade on blade.

The officer dumps Elena onto the dock, where she flips onto her back and spots Jonas’s scarred eye underneath the ridiculous hat he wears.

“Fancy seeing you here,” is what she says, though it comes out in a garbled mess.

“A little help?” he asks as his blade clangs against the officers’.

Elena shifts her weight and cocks back her legs, landing a solid kick against the crude one’s ass. He stumbles before falling over the side and into the water. Jonas feints high, then sweeps his boot out and knocks the other officer to his back. Elena follows behind with another kick, shoving him off the dock to join his crew member.

Yanking her to her feet, Jonas slices through the gag and urges her down the dock and into the busy market. They slip behind an empty stall for him to strip off his coat.

“Cover yer chains with this.”

Elena takes the coat and folds it over her wrists as best she can, feeling as if every nerve in her body is vibrating at the highest frequency.

“Jonas, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Where are the others? Is Edward with--”

“Aye, we’re all here,” he cuts her off, squinting down the port with his good eye as he keeps watch. She sweeps her gaze across the roaming villagers, unsure of what she’s looking for. Before she can ask, Jonas tips his head for them to continue on. She follows him through the market and up onto the serpentine streets that climb along the island. The city center is just as bustling, making it easy for them to dodge in and out of the crowds and down tight alleyways. Across the tiers of rooflines, Elena catches a glimpse of the sun sinking towards the sea. Her boot clips on a loose cobblestone and she trips, smacking her shoulder into a dress shop’s window to keep from falling onto her face.

“Look alive, now,” Jonas mutters from up ahead, glancing back to make sure she’s keeping up. Even he can see the pale color in her cheeks and the small winces that make her jaw twitch; she’s in no shape to be climbing about like this, but there’s no way around it. “Weren’t my choice to have the rendezvous location all the way up here. I would offer to carry ye, if there weren’t the threat of you handing my arse to me.”

She shoves down her injured pride and musters up a grin. “Where is this ‘rendezvous,’ anyway?”

“Right here.”

The answer draws her up short. Ahead of them is a low, bricked building with a sign of two crossed hammers and an anvil. Jonas swings open the door and ushers her inside, before closing and locking it behind them. Three heads turn at the noise of their arrival.

Robert nods at her from his perch near the fire, his hair and clothes soaked. Tripp grins at her and gives a little wave, beckoning them over. Before they can step farther into the room, though, Elena is bowled over by a blur of brown and blue.

“Yer a right bastard,” Charlie chokes out as she wraps her arms around Elena and squeezes tight. “Making us search the world over for you, and here you are.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” Elena manages to speak around her dwindling air supply.

Charlie pulls back and tucks her against her side. “Oh, love, I’m only teasin’. We’d’ve sailed to another planet and searched that world over for you, too, if we could.”

Before Elena can get her hands free from under the coat, Charlie reaches over and wipes at her tears. Swallowing back the elation that clogs her throat, Elena takes another look around the shop. Something tells her that she can’t start jumping for joy just yet.

“The others -- they’ve been captured, haven’t they?”

“Aye, they have,” Robert growls from his post. “I tried to talk some sense into him, but the boy’s a fool.”

Elena doesn’t bother asking who the fool is. She lets Charlie guide her towards the fire and sit her down. Tripp approaches and takes the coat from her, guiding a small, hot poker to weaken the chain until the shackles fall away. As if a witch herself, Charlie produces a plate of food and a mug of water, pushing both of them into Elena’s shaking hands.

“Fuck.” She tightens her grip to the point of pain. “I hoped you all would stay away.”

Jonas reaches down to squeeze her shoulder as he passes by. “And leave ye to deal with those navy dogs yerself? Not a chance.”

“Robert got word to us yesterday, but we’d already decided to sail into the trap we knew was laid out,” Charlie explains. “We couldn’t be sure if we’d be able to get you out or not, so we split up. We left Ginny and some of the other crew back on Santo Domingo, to have as backup in case they brought you there. Once we got here, Jonas and I escaped in the jolly boat while the navy captured the ship. Edward, Maggie, and Henry are locked down in the dungeon of the governor’s mansion.”

Elena swallows the last of her food and sets the plate aside. Her nails drum against the mug as she vibrates with a newfound energy. She’s so close to having her family back together.

“Okay,” she drags the word out, glancing between her friends, “so why are we all just sitting here? Let’s go bust them out.”

“Yer in no shape to be--”

“What?” Elena snaps as she straightens up in her seat. “No, I’m fine. Look, I made a happy plate and everything.”

“Lass,” Jonas says with a grimace, “ye barely made it up here. I have to agree with Charlie on this one.”

From his spot near the fire, Robert chuckles and shakes his head. “Best to conserve yer energy and let her come along. God knows I spent too much time in the beginning of our partnership trying to shake her off. She’ll be a colossal pain in the arse if you leave her behind.”

“Thank you!” Elena exclaims, glad to have someone sticking up for her -- even if it’s hidden behind an insult. “I mean, even if you did leave me here, I’d definitely follow you guys anyway.”

Charlie makes a show of heaving out a reluctant sigh, but nods her head. “Alright, love. Ye’ve won this round.”

“Good. Because I’ve got a plan.”

------

The dress shop is rather easy to break into, all things considered.

For a stupid, fleeting moment, Elena worries about how she’s going to disarm the security system, before remembering the closest thing to that would be vicious dogs. Which, luckily, the dress shop doesn’t keep around.

“Help me find the ugliest dress in here,” she instructs as they follow her into the dark shop. Jonas and Robert harumph at each other in that middle-aged man sort of way before wandering around.

“This one is particularly atrocious if I do say so myself.”

Near the back, Charlie holds up a garish, silken concoction of ribbons and lace in a searing shade of what would be called neon green in about two-hundred years. Elena crosses the room and runs a hand over the fabric, amazed by its hideousness.

“It’s like if Tim Gunn told you to sew a traffic light.”

“I’ve no idea who or what that is,” Charlie laughs. “But I think this is our winner.”

They don’t bat an eye at her stealing the dress. But when she stops them a few blocks from the governor’s mansion and asks them to rough her up, they all suddenly turn into law-abiding citizens.

“We’re not gonna beat you up, lass.”

“Ye said ye just needed the dress!”

Even Robert -- who once strongly advocated for her to be tossed overboard, fought her in a sword fight, and blew up a cave while she was inside it -- makes an uncomfortable face at the request.

“Good god,” Elena mutters as she tears at the fabric herself. “You’d think I asked you all to hack me into pieces. A good act only works with a good costume!”

Satisfied with the dress’s destruction, she runs her hand over the alley’s dusty brick and spreads it across her cheek and neck. Charlie wipes off some of her own lip rouge and draws it over Elena’s lips and across to her left dimple. Without a mirror, Elena can only guess from their expressions that her attempt has worked.

It certainly seems to work on the guards, who jump from their posts near the mansion’s basement door when she comes careening out of the dark.

“Please! Please, help me!” she cries, grasping at the tangled tendrils of her hair. “My husband --the… he’s the Viscount Beauchamp! We’ve been attacked by… by these ruffians! They robbed him and left him bleeding in the street. Please, you have to come help!”

“Ma’am, where is--”

“Oh, this way! This way, please, you have to help him!” she begs the two men, dragging one of them by the arm towards the road and past a dark alley. “He’s bleeding! I nearly fainted at the sight of him. He’s got hemophilia, as I’m sure you know!”

“No, ma’am, I’m not sure what that--”

Jonas springs up from behind a wagon and knocks the first officer out with fist to the jaw. The second officer backpedals and begins to draw his pistol, but Charlie grabs the weapon from him and whips him across the head. He drops to the ground in a heap of red fabric.

“Hemophilia wasn’t discovered until 1828,” Robert comments as he drags the men into the alley and ties them up. Elena reaches down to tear off two more strips of her dress and offers it to him to use as gags.

“Sorry, I left my wikipedia entry on genetic disorders back at home.”

“C’mon, you two!” Charlie beckons from the road.

The four of them hustle back to the mansion, relieved to see the guards’ abandonment hasn’t been noticed yet. Charlie leads the way through the branching service tunnels, ushering them into empty rooms when more guards pass by on their rounds. As they wait for the sound of footsteps to retreat, Elena hears the unmistakable noise of Maggie and Henry arguing about his cooking.

“Some things never change, ay, love?” Charlie turns to wink at her before poking her head back out. “Coast is clear. Let’s go get our crew.”

And then they’re walking down into the dungeon and Henry’s voice is getting louder, until their footsteps start to echo down and the arguing ceases -- probably used to getting reprimanded by the guards, but Elena can’t bear the silence so she pushes past Charlie and snatches a ring of keys from a peg on the wall and races towards the cell where she can see the cloth of someone’s coat pressed against the bars and the keys are rattling in her hand and--

“It’s… Elena, is that ye? Elena!”

A bucket clangs to the floor as Henry scrambles to his feet, followed quickly by Maggie. The nerves burning inside of her are doused by the realization that Edward isn’t with them. As Elena unlocks the door and throws it open, she tries to keep the disappointment from her face. She was so sure she would find Edward with them, and now the proverbial rug has been pulled out from underneath her once more.

“We missed ye somethin’ terrible, lass!” Maggie beams as she sweeps Elena into her arms and hugs her tight.

Guilt gnaws at her stomach; she returns the hug, smothering a laugh when Henry throws his arms around them both.

“Alright, alright,” Jonas says, “give our gal some breathin’ room.”

Henry and Maggie step back, though the latter keeps a hand on Elena’s back, rubbing up and down with gentle strokes. “Now, where has our captain run off to?”

“The guards took ‘im away ‘bout an hour ago.”

“Probably to rough ‘im up a bit to make him look good for the mornin’ crowd.” Henry grimaces at Elena’s alarmed expression. “Sorry, lass.”

Charlie clenches her fists and shakes her head. “None of us are going to the gallows. And that includes our captain.”

“Aye,” Jonas agrees. “And I’ve just the--”

Noise from back down the corridor interrupts his plan. Standing at the end are two guards, each struggling to keep hold of Edward as he thrashes against them.

“Charlie!” he calls. “Charlie, is she here? Did you find--”

“The pirates’ve gotten free!” one of the guards cries out. “Cut them off before they escape!”

The crew races down the hall, their swords singing as they wrench them free. Elena pulls the dagger from her boot and chases after them. The other guard drops his hold on Edward and brandishes his sword. Rearing back, Edward headbutts him into the wall and snatches the sword as it falls; he swivels on his heel, knocking the first guard into an empty cell and slamming the door shut. More shouts of alarm filter down from above, calling out for reinforcements.

“Hurry!” Edward yells at his crew as they head for the exit. “There’s a tunnel we can use to…” his words trail off, lost under the pounding of their footsteps. “...Elena.”

Despite the dire situation, Elena can’t help the giddy smile that forms when Edward finally spots her. Every part of her body feels as if it’s going to spontaneously combust as she nears the end. His lips move in the shape of her name again, then again, and then loud enough for her to hear.

“Elena!” two voices shout.

Confusion cuts through the euphoria when a hand seizes her dress and yanks her back. With an ear-splitting crash, a massive portcullis drops down from the ceiling and buries its sharp spikes into the floor. Right where she would have been.

Though the crew is only mere feet away, she’s sealed from joining them by eight-thousand pounds of wrought iron. Her heart plummets at the realization. Beside her, Robert turns and fires on the guard who released the latch, hitting him square in the neck. Boots thunder across the floor above. Edward rushes to the gate, trying in vain to push it back up. The crew crowds around him to try and help, but it’s no use.

“More guards are on their way,” Robert tells them. “If we want any chance at escape, we need to go now.” His glare moves from Elena and over to the crew. “The same goes for you.”

“No!” Edward grits his teeth and rattles the gate, cursing when it doesn’t budge. “No, we’re not leaving! If -- if we can find something to wedge under here, we can--”

The guards’ shouts grow louder as they close in. Elena covers his hands with hers and squeezes, her pulse racing at touching him for the first time in over two years.

“You have to go.”

His face collapses into a look of despair, his eyes wild with panic. “I won’t! You-- you’re here and I just got you back. I won’t leave you behind.”

Robert barks her name and tugs at her arm. “If we don’t go now, they’ll catch all of us. Go!”

“He’s right, Captain,” Charlie says.

“I-- we’ll wait for you. We’re anchored off the eastern coast. Meet us there and--”

“Edward, listen to me,” Elena pleads, digging her nails into his skin. “There’s no time. We’ll keep them busy and give you time to sail off.”

“And leave you here?” he hisses in disbelief, frantically shaking his head. “Never.”

Robert tugs her again, harder this time, and she stumbles back away from the gate. Edward reaches through the bars and tries desperately to grab hold of her once more. Seeing their opportunity, Jonas and Maggie capture him and wrestle him back towards the exit. “No, we’re not leav-- no, Elena!”

“We’ll meet you back on--” Elena cuts herself off, not wanting to shout out the location. “--where Ginny and the others are! I promise.”

Racing down the hall after Robert, she watches over her shoulder until the crew disappears from sight. They reach the fallen guard, where Elena tucks her dagger away and steals the man’s sword. It’s not like he would get any use out of it, anyway. Robert guides her down behind a stack of barrels as the guards jog past.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his gaze trained on the stairs. “But if they hadn’t left, it would’ve all been for naught.”

She stifles the urge to cry as frustration and outrage boil over inside of her. This isn’t the time or place for a breakdown, though -- not while trapped within the enemy’s dungeon. She empties out her lungs with a sigh and draws in a calming breath.

“I understand.”

“Good. We’re going to play this one just like we did at Edinburgh Castle, and then we’ll be scot-free.”

She wrinkles her nose at the term. “Was that a pun?”

“Hush, lass. Now, hand me that powder keg they were kind enough to stow down here for us.”

------

AN: Edward’s new ship went through a few names (The Hangman, The Seeker, etc) before I decided that he’d probably go for something similar to his last. Salacia is the Roman goddess of salt water and the open sea.

#distant shores #edward x mc #edward mortemer #distant shores fic #Kaila writes things #f: the way home

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miracleboiz · 4 years

Text

Making a Home Ch.18

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Ojiro Aran/Kita Shinsuke, Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuseNot from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse

.Read below or on AO3

The two hadn’t been the only ones hiding around the corner and Shinsuke had to hold Hitoshi up as another child rocketed forward and into him.

“Are you okay? You’re never allowed to go on any other group ever again!” The child cried, hugging Hitoshi as tightly as he could as Hitoshi hugged back.

“I’m okay Rin-kun. Shinji-kun protected me and Atsumu-kun.” Hitoshi chattered, almost uncaring of the way Rin-kun was attempting to latch onto him forever. Rin-kun looked over Hitoshi’s shoulder at the two other boys.

“Thanks…” He mumbled, turning back to Hitoshi to look over his cheek.

“Rin-kun,” Shinji called softly, “we’re going to go to the bakery, do you want to come with us?”

Rintaro blinked at them, eyeing Tooru almost suspiciously before nodding.

“I hafta tell Aran-kun we won’t be at practice though…” Rin said, making Osamu jump from where he’d latched onto his brother’s shirt and Shinsuke’s hand.

“You know Aran-kun?” He chirped, making Rintaro blink and slowly nod. “The one with the pretty puppy Lady?”

“Yes, me and Hitoshi-kun play volleyball with him sometimes… How do you know him?”

“He’s Shinsuke-san’s husband.” Osamu said cheerfully, swinging Shinsuke’s arm. Instantly Shinsuke’s face turned red, embarrassment flooding over him quickly followed by annoyance as Tooru turned to give him a quirked eyebrow. The other man opened his mouth to tease him before Atsumu spoke.

“No, stupid! He’s Shinsuke-san’s boyfriend, they’re not married yet… Right Shinsuke-san?” Atsumu blinked up at Shinsuke, a hint of almost panic in his eyes. After thinking about it, it was clear to Atsumu that Shinsuke and Aran were dating. Why else would Shinsuke act differently with him? That didn’t mean Atsumu liked Aran yet, not at all. They could still get married and decide they didn’t want Osamu or him.

Shinsuke wasn’t sure if he wanted to face palm or just leave and go lay down for a bit. Tooru had turned away but his shoulders were absolutely shaking with laughter. If either of his two kids repeated that within ten miles of Michinari then Shinsuke was absolutely doomed.

“No… Osamu, Atsumu, Aran-san is not my husband or my boyfriend.” Shinsuke said, blinking in surprise when the twin’s heads turned towards him and tilted in confusion.

“He’s… not?” Osamu sounded confused, looking at his brother as if he would have the answers. “Then… You’re not going to marry Oji-san right? I like Oji-san! But… I like how happy you are when Aran-kun comes over.”

“I don’t.” Atsumu grumbled, nearly intelligible.

This was punishment from the gods, Shinsuke was convinced. They had finally decided to get his revenge after he spent twenty-eight years not caring about them. Or this was punishment for not visiting his granny enough.

His heart seemed to beat heavier as embarrassment washed over him again as Tooru had to smother his laughter. Shinsuke shot him a venomous glare but it did nothing against the man who just grinned at him.

“No, I am not in a relationship with Aran-san. Nor am I going to marry Michinari.” Shinsuke sighed, reaching up to ruffle both of their heads. “Don’t go getting ideas of marrying me off just to get spoiled.”

He still couldn’t suppress the smile forcing his way onto his lips no matter how hard he tried. Between the twin’s being absolutely thrown off by the knowledge that Shinsuke was indeed single and realizing that Osamu atleast would be more than happy to have Aran as a dad, Shinsuke had no way to stop the affection bubbling in his chest.

He’d have to get to the bottom of Atsumu’s issue with Aran. Until then it still made him happier than he wanted to admit to think about raising the boys with Aran. That secret, however, would stay a secret a while longer.

“C’mon boys, before you try and make me marry Tooru, school’s already over. Let’s go get your bags and head over to the bakery okay? Rin-kun, I’ll let Aran-san know that you won’t be coming today, don’t worry about it.” Shinsuke said, quickly distracting them and rushing them along. He ignored Tooru’s pointed looks, keeping his eyes down on his kids so he wouldn’t cause Tooru to have another laughing fit.

“Welcome to Castle Bakery, I see you’ve managed to kidnap my kids and my secret husband. Are you coming to exchange them for pastries or just return them for being stinkers?” Takahiro called from behind the counter, leaning across it as they walked through the front door. The bakery wasn’t packed, most parents were at work and kids were at clubs.

Shinsuke gently moved Osamu’s hand from his wrist, letting him take hold of Shigeru instead as the smaller child dragged them in. Atsumu twisted and grabbed Shinji who was dragged off before he had a chance to grab Hitoshi and Ren. The two seemed a little overwhelmed so Shinsuke moved with them, letting Tooru move around them to greet his spouse? Boyfriend?

Shinsuke still wasn’t sure what they referred to themselves as Hajime always called them boyfriends and Tooru changed it every time he spoke. As long as they were happy, Shinsuke didn’t really see a point in asking for clarification.

Hitoshi and Rintaro both seemed amazed at the shop. Shinsuke glanced around too, wondering when the last time he’d actually been in there was.

The walls were painted a pretty cream white, a turquoise trim wherever the wall connected to something else. Even the counter was a vibrant blue against the tile floor. Along each wall were small round golden tables with cushioned chairs on either side.

A comfortable corner was tucked away with a ‘Little Free Library’ that was packed full of books. On the bottom shelf small toys spilled out that a toddler was happily playing with while her mother sat beside her on a couch, a small cupcake on the coffee table in front of her.

It was comfortable despite the blaring white, probably helped by the long display rack that cut off the main room from the kitchen that was filled to the brim with goods in anticipation for elementary kids on their way home and workers looking for a snack. The gold paint seemed to glow and Shinsuke followed the two support beams up to the main sign. The long vines decorating it were new, though they looked nice against the black of the sign, a small crown carved out of one corner.

“We’re definitely trading Papa in,” Shinji was saying, ignoring Tooru’s betrayed gasp, “is Tatay here? I want to show him my new friends!”

“Okay so I’m not your favorite? Is that what you’re trying to tell me Shinji?” Tooru tried to chide his eldest but like usual Shinji didn’t seem even mildly phased as he shrugged.

“Tatay says he’s the cool one and you’re the weird one.”

“He’s the… I went to the Olympics!” Tooru tried to bluster through his words, hands on his chest.

“Yeah but Tatay and Pita can cook dinner.” Shinji smiled, turning and dragging Atsumu and Osamu back behind the counter as Shigeru let go of the twins.

“Don’t worry Papa, you’re my second favorite.” Shigeru smiled before he was pulling Rintaro along with him, Hitoshi staring almost reverently at Tooru. “Hitoshi-kun! Didn’t you hear Shinji? Papa’s the weird one, you can meet Tatay and Otou-san, come on.”

Hitoshi seemed to hesitate, glancing up at Tooru again before taking off after his friends.

“I’m not even going to ask Akira, he just likes whoever fed him last.” Tooru grumbled dejectedly. Takahiro laughed, leaning further over the counter to tug Tooru closer until he could kiss his cheek.

“Stop that, you’re my favorite.” Takahiro said, smiling at him. The grin only got wider as Tooru wrinkled his nose.

“Last time you said that you made me eat spicy cake.”

“Yeah! That’s why you’re my favorite.” Takahiro chirped happily, leaning in to try and rub his nose with Tooru. Tooru stepped back, sticking out his tongue.

“I’m getting in on Aran and Shinsuke’s wedding, it’s too late, I’m sorry Takahiro.” Tooru spun, and Shinsuke barely avoided getting hugged. Unfortunately, Takahiro latched onto exactly what Tooru wanted him too.

“Ooh~ Aran-kun and Shinsuke-kun are finally getting married?” Takahiro gasped, holding a hand over his mouth.

“Finally? You don’t even know who he is.” Shinsuke said, giving him a flat look. Like Shinji, nothing seemed to faze him and he just smiled.

“Who said that? I have his old teammate as my favorite partner of the week-”

“It’s on a weekly basis?”

“And he tells me about everything~ Not even mentioning that Hajime is Aran-kun’s personal trainer and apparently he has a thing for a pretty young thing with two foster boys.” Takahiro crooned, laughing again when Tooru’s teasing smirk turned into a frown again.

“I get it, I get it I’m old. It’s only a four year difference…”

They both ignored Tooru’s grumbling.

Shinsuke was honestly almost done with the way his cheeks flared red at even the mention of Aran’s name. Yes, he’d had this crush since he was sixteen, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Arans’ name definitely should not be reminding him of how Aran looked helping the boys the first time they met or how willing Aran was to work with Atsumu and forgive him when he’d acted out (as non-dangerous as potatoes were it was still rude).

He was 100% done with other’s teasing him about Aran’s supposed crush on him. Even if it were true, and Shinsuke wouldn’t say it was impossible, it didn’t matter because Shinsuke had already chosen not to follow that path.

“Hajime-san can say what he wants, I’m not marrying Aran-san-” Shinsuke sighed as his phone went off. “I have to take this.”

“Have to, he says.” Tooru and Takahiro said together with a laugh, both of them leaning against the counter to watch him step away. Shinsuke didn’t know why he never caught on to their relationship, the two devils were perfect for each other.

“Hi Kita-san!” The overly chipper voice made him wince. “It’s Sato Ai, me and my husband are on our way to meet the twins.”

Shinsuke almost let out a stream of curses, chest aching as he remembered what was planned for this afternoon. He had completely forgotten the interview after school with the potential foster parents.

“Thank you for calling me, the boys had a rather rough day at school so I think it would be best to re-schedule-”

“Nonsense, it’ll be fine,” Sato-san said, “we’ll be there in about an hour.”

The line went dead even as Shinsuke started to argue. He stared at the blank screen, worry and apprehension flooding through him. Any good adoptive parent would have known better than to force the first meeting if they were warned their prospective adoptees weren’t okay. If the boys had to deal with the stress of meeting someone new after this first day, it could completely set back everything Shinsuke had been doing for the past week.

He dialed the number back but it just rang through to the voicemail. Twice more he tried but he didn’t get an answer. He finally sent a text, asking them to call him about when they would reschedule for.

“Who was that?” Hiro chirped, straightening up as the door opened.

“Some people who wanted to meet with the boys to see about adopting them.” Shinsuke said, still frowning at his phone. He would have to turn them away at the door if they refused to listen and tell Oomimi to check on any others of their prospects. If they couldn’t even bother to answer the phone when he requested them not to come, he didn’t particularly trust them to listen to the boys.

He looked up when he realized Takahiro had been quite for some time. Takahiro was watching him, the slightest curl to his top lip before he shrugged and looked away.

“He’s your boss.” Was all he said, aiming it at Tooru, “I have customer’s, go play with the kids. I’ll see you later.”

Tooru was watching Shinsuke critically but he nodded to his partner’s words, reaching over the counter to squeeze his hand before moving out of the way. He hustled Shinsuke behind the counter and through the kitchen.

Four year old Akira was nibbling on a bowl of grapes on a table, Issei rolling out dough for a pie. He looked up as they came in, nodding his head at them.

“Hey pretty boy, the kids went upstairs. Make sure Shinji doesn’t break into the maple syrup?” Issei asked, leaning over as they passed to kiss Tooru’s cheek. Shinsuke almost felt his cheeks burn, not overly surprised by how openly affectionate they were but still unused to it. It wasn’t common for people to be so open with such romantic gestures after all.

“That kid has the weirdest tastes, he gets it from your side of the family, Mr. I put peanut butter on potatoes.” Tooru teased lightly, lifting his hand to squeeze his shoulder. Issei’s eyes seemed to darken for a second before they relaxed and he gave a soft smile to his partner.

“Yeah he does, my sister would have been proud to know he’s carrying on her food science.” Issei said softly, tilting his head towards the stairs in the back. “Hurry up, he might have taken Atsumu’s proposal seriously and I don’t want him trying to make a wedding cake just yet.”

Tooru laughed, moving forward and waving Shinsuke to the stairs before he stopped to speak to Akira. Akira didn’t particularly look excited but Shinsuke could see the way his eyes brightened at his father’s attention and willingly reached out for him to get picked up.

“I’m stealing the kitten, before he starts napping on the table.” Tooru called, grabbing grapes before Akira could ask and following Shinsuke up the stairs.

They didn’t have to go far to find Atsumu and Hitoshi atleast.

They were at the base of the stairs, eyes wide as a long furred brilliantly white cat walked back and forth to them. She rubbed her face against both of them, preening under the gentle touches of her new fans.

“Princess! Stop harassing children, atleast let them into the house.” Tooru called and the cat mewled pathetically, falling into Atsumu’s chest and purring loud enough for Shinsuke to hear her.

Atsumu turned his eyes to Shinsuke where they sparkled and glowed with excitement.

“Cat.” He mouthed, fingers gently brushing over her back with a gasp. Shinsuke hummed, nodding his head as he reached down to stroke his hair, the smallest smile growing on Atsumu’s face.

Instantly regret pooled in Shinsuke’s stomach. These were his boys but he… was going to send them away. He already had people wanting to meet them. Good people who would be able to be home all day and give them a structured life.

Shinsuke wanted to be selfish, he wanted all of it. He wanted to raise the boys and date Aran. He wanted to watch them grow and learn and support them through all of it. He wanted to steal Lady from Aran and spend the hours after work resting with her while Aran and Osamu cooked and Atsumu played eight video games in an hour. He wanted to teach them volleyball, see them give everything their all like he knew they would.

But he couldn’t. Knowing they would be neglected by his own workaholic tendencies. Knowing that he chose his future years ago, he had a plan and the boys didn’t deserve to deal with him while he strained trying to fix that plan. If he threw that plan out then what did he have? No structure, no routine, no-

“Shinsuke-san! Their TV is bigger than me!” Osamu yelled down the hall and Shinsuke looked up instantly, pushing down any panic that was building in his chest. He would be fine. He had a plan. He had his routine. Nothing would change that.

“Is it? Now I have to see that.” Shinsuke called, watching Osamu giggle and disappear into the living room. Tooru raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything even as Shinsuke turned to look at him. The other man just shrugged, carefully stepping over the two and walking away with his son in his arms.

Princess mewed after her owner, jumping off of Atsumu’s lap and taking off after him.

“You’re fat.” Akira said to the cat as they rounded a corner and disappeared into the apartment.

“C’mon Atsumu, let's go see this giant TV… You too Hitoshi.” Shinsuke said, offering his hands to both of them and tugging them up onto their feet. Surprisingly, neither of them let go, letting him lead them into the living room.

Rintaro had taken a spot on Shigeru’s back in front of the TV. Shigeru didn’t seem to mind, occasionally twisting to be fed a chip from the bowl beside them. Shinji was on the couch and quickly pat it to try and encourage the two to join him. He paused and looked at Shinsuke before moving the couch pillow and scooting closer to the arm before patting it again.

Hitoshi let go almost immediately, scrambling up onto the couch and leaning forward to paw at Rintaro’s head until he was handed a chip. He happily chomped away at it, watching Shinji change the channel.

Atsumu stuck close to Shinsuke, keeping his hand wrapped around Shinsuke’s. Not even a few seconds later, Shinsuke was being dragged into the room by Osamu and manhandled onto the couch. Atsumu and Osamu seemed to be thinking along the same lines because they both immediately crawled onto the couch and took a spot on either leg.

“Don’t get too comfortable Shinji ,you either Shigeru, you’re still getting talked to when the Bakery closes.” Tooru said, sticking his head into the room. “I know you two got in trouble for fighting at lunch.”

“Technically, it was just Shigeru, I was trying to stop it.” Shinji mumbled, trying to hide behind Shinsuke’s bulk when Tooru fixed his gaze on him.

“So you didn’t drag both of them physically on the ground?” Tooru raised an eyebrow.

“.... I was trying to stop it?” Shinji said again.

“... I was not like this when I was a kid, I was a good kid, I didn’t punch people, why are you like this?” Tooru sighed, clearly aware of how Shinji was trying not to laugh and Shigeru was openly giggling. “Don’t laugh, you’re both in trouble. Shigeru why were you fighting Rintaro anyways?”

“ ‘Cuz he’s my best friend!” Shigeru chirped happily from under Rintaro.

“Wha- I thought your best friend was Kentarou-kun from Taekwondo.”

“Yeah… from Taekwondo. You get extra husbands why can’t I have extra best friends.”

“... I don’t have an answer to that… Just don’t do it again on school grounds okay? If you want to fight more we can pay for a few hours for private lessons for both of you. It’s dangerous at school, you don’t know what’s in the grass or if someone else could accidentally get hurt okay?” Toory finally said, looking at Shigeru until he nodded. The smile had shrank but he was clearly listening, looking up to nod at Rintaro who nodded rapidly back at him and then Tooru.

“And you, my defensive little monster,” Tooru said moving over to rub his hand over Shinji’s shaved head, “need to stop letting yourself get drawn into fights. But I’m glad you protected your friend.”

Shinji’s cheeks were dark with a blush but he grinned brightly up at his father.

“Thank you Papa, now go away, you’re embarrassing me.” Shinji stuck out his tongue, giggling when Tooru dropped a kiss onto his head and ruffled it again before leaving.

“I can be extra embarrassing, just wait till highschool, I was the most embarrassing person ever and I refuse to lose that to you two.” Tooru teased back as he left, tossing an amused smile at Shinsuke.

Atsumu and Osamu were staring after Tooru almost reverently before their eyes moved almost hesitatingly to Shinsuke. He wasn’t quite sure what they wanted but he wrapped his arms around them, pointing at the TV and murmuring for them to watch it.

By the time evening started, Hajime had arrived home and he and Issei quickly swept up the nearly asleep Hitoshi and Rintaro and took them home. Shinsuke had barely managed to get out of a family dinner, half worried that Takahiro and Issei would steal his kids if he didn’t get them out of the room quick enough. It wouldn’t even be a fight, both boys were dead set on eating Takahiro’s macarons no matter what they had to do for it.

“Say goodbye.” Shinsuke murmured to his twins, one hand in each of his. They cheered loud enough to wake the block before letting their foster father lead them out of the apartment.

The doors to his shop were closed and locked already, the alarm set and blinking from inside. Shinsuke didn’t particularly feel like turning it off so he brought them around the corner instead, heading for the second entrance.

Atsumu was more excited about the cat than he was anything else, cheerfully chirping about how pretty she had been and all of her pictures around the house. Osamu was hoarding his handful of blueberries he’d been given by Issei on the way out, and didn’t seem particularly inclined to speak. He wasn’t upset, simply didn’t seem to think there was anything to say.

Shinsuke was watching the ground, guiding them around the tree root that had broken the pavement when he felt Atsumu freeze. He looked over, confusion taking over at the panic and then dread on Atsumu’s face. Atsumu’s head slowly turned to him, betrayal clear in amber eyes.

Shinsuke could almost see them closing off as he turned his head to look forward again and Shinsuke followed his gaze.

“Ah! There you are Kita-san, we thought you’d forgotten about us.” Sato Ai was standing in front of his house, her husband a few steps behind her. “Don’t worry we haven’t been here long. It’s good to see you boys again, Atsumu, Osamu.”

Shinsuke tightened his hold on the boys’ hands. They hadn’t mentioned knowing the twins at all, but clearly they knew them. There was a soft tapping noise as Osamu dropped the blueberries in his hand, his other going limp in Shinsuke’s.

“S-Shinsuke-san?” Osamu started to ask but Atsumu pulled his hand from Shinsuke and reached out for his brother.

“You know what this is, ‘Samu… Come on… We’re ready Shinsuke-san, we know how to act.” Atsumu said, his voice completely flat as he looked the potential adoptees dead on.

Shinsuke didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to breathe, he wanted to redo everything. Go through the store so he could send these two away without a fuss.

He’d destroyed everything they’d just worked to build.

#HQ #Haikyuu #Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #Kita Shinsuke #Arankita #Fluff #fanfiction #Making a home AU

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chyrstis · 4 years

Text

So, Tumblr completely wrecked the formatting of this post, so I’m sorry to have to mess with this here:

From @hawkfurze

Maybe this passage? : “Not all of it,” John admitted, “but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Usually when talking about regrets and hopes for the future, not all parties will be on the same page. He was on one, and I the other, and…I didn’t handle it as gracefully as I would’ve liked.” “But did you think he was right?” “I don’t know. It’s too soon to say, and I’m still not inclined to agree considering how he presented it to me.”

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

Oh man. This part.

First off, you’re wonderful for asking about anything, and also, I’d like to apologize in advance for any and all word vomit here as I attempt to organize this into something that can actually be read.

From I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) Ch. 5:

John’s journey up until now has lead him to one of the highest points in his life. He’s been reunited with his family, he’s had an actual stable source of support for years now after being able to cut himself free from his foster family’s legacy; people willing to reach out to him, and stay by his side to help encourage him as he took steps to get help and therapy, and go through the process of recovery. He’s proud of where he’s able to be now, better able to understand and acknowledge the habits and responses he used to rely on that were more damaging than helpful. The things he’s done to survive and to get even a scrap of sensation he doesn’t have to resort to anymore, but it’s been a long process learning how to open up and keep those defense mechanisms from kicking in.

And while the fic focused primarily on the growing bond between Sharky and John, it was important to also figure out John’s relationship with Joseph and Jacob as well, even if it wasn’t fully fleshed out. Jacob’s the big brother. He’s protective of the two of them, but John’s role as the youngest still lead to equal shares of tough shit, and spoiling him rotten in a way, and it’s a much more traditional sibling relationship. Joseph, on the other hand, has taken the role of guardian completely. He’s been in a much more stable position for longer (having had the chance to seek out help himself, and also having his own family to care for), and much as he does trust John, he’s still watching him closely. John’s observant, painfully so, and even if Joseph says nothing, he can sense that assessment (which he slots immediately into judgment), and even if Joseph doesn’t end up asking anything, John’s already on the defensive.

Joseph’s also seen John struggle on his harder days. How he’ll pour himself into his work to the point of ignoring everything else, and attempt to self-isolate on top of that. If that’s becoming apparent he’ll feel it’s his duty to ask, and press it if he feels John’s downplaying his concerns. That he’s ignoring things that could very well become problems as well, and here he tops off this conversation by turning it to the future as well. To thoughts of family, and long-term goals, and John can see the disappointment building already. That he’s once again not living up to Joseph’s expectations of him, and never will, and seeing that disappointment before he could even effectively defend himself doomed the night for everyone.

At least, until John managed to find two seconds in his anger to call Sharky up. (and the fact that he made that choice instinctively is a whole other slew of things for John to shove down and think about later)

But after hearing Sharky’s story, something he’d honestly be too mortified to admit to anyone, John feels…comfortable. Not under that judging eye at all for once (even if Joseph’s is well-intentioned), and he decides that maybe sharing what happened with him is worth the risk. Sharky can know about that, and John’s willing to deal with the consequences of giving that piece of information away.

The finer details of the conversation as a whole are still a little on the abstract side to me (I’d hoped to write this conversation out in To offer, actually, and couldn’t fit it in) but here’s part of that cut section!

—

John had stepped away to take a call upstairs. It wasn’t much more than an update on a case he’d taken an interest in, and didn’t think he’d left either of his brothers alone for too long. But after ending the call, he found Joseph waiting for him upstairs. Not angry himself, just…disappointed.

That, he was all too familiar with as well.

Still, he didn’t think anything of it at first. Asked Joseph what was wrong – wondered aloud if the state of conversation was severe enough with Jacob that he’d needed to find him instead – only for Joseph’s response to be cut off by the ring of his phone.

Disappointment soon became displeasure, and John let the call go straight to voicemail.

He didn’t have to ask. He was holding the evidence right in the palm of his hand, but Joseph approached it levelly. Asked if it had been an emergency, and John told him the truth. It was for work, and he thought it would’ve been simple enough to wrap up before returning to them.

But it hadn’t been, and even now, they were waiting. Would try again in a minute if he didn’t shut it off completely, and the itch to dismiss himself and take care of it hit harder than it should have.

Never mind the promise he’d made to limit these calls. To be mindful of how much he worked, taxing himself to the point of exhaustion and isolation. To keep his phone down, to talk to them, to engage with them, and John bristled.

Yes, he’d let himself step away. Yes, he’d checked, but this was not-

This wasn’t what he wanted.

Looking back on it now, from the outside in, he wished he’d taken another route. Had left when he’d told himself to cool off, because whatever tenuous grasp he’d had on his feelings before had crumbled to ash at his feet.

But he’d also done what he’d planned to do. Had made time with his brothers. Had wanted to do so, shifting things around to make it possible, and wasn’t that enough? Had laughed and spoken with them for hours already, and maybe this was important enough to check-

Excuses.

Excuses filled his head, and even now it was all too easy to do. To lean back on, when he knew what this all was. What Joseph would’ve called it, if he’d been a harsher man, and let his mind do it for him.

Selfish.

Guilt seeped in, followed by shame, and it didn’t matter any longer that Joseph had come to check on him. That he was trying to reason with him. That he was right. John let anger answer for him, and it all spiraled quickly out of his control after that.

So, he stayed with it. Raised his voice, and rode the tide of it as he told Joseph to make his point, and waited. Then left. Stormed off, unsure where to head to next, only that he needed to leave.

That’s when the doorbell rang.

He hadn’t even remembered making the text, or reaching out to Charlemagne at all, so when he heard the sound, he went towards it. Hissed out one last response to Joseph as he passed him, cutting everything short, and left.

And when he descended the stairs, he saw the flash of green at the door and went straight towards it. Confirmed that yes, Charlemagne was there. Summoned somehow by him, but he didn’t say anything to greet him, or thank him.

Just grabbed him. Pulled him along, because Sharky Boshaw’s wants or opinions didn’t matter or factor into any of his plans at the moment. He simply wanted him there, a useful distraction, traveling along with him as they marched out to the very sticks for all he cared.

So, it was better for Charlemagne to object. To stop, ask, and question, because John was still being precisely what he’d called it before.

Selfish.

He didn’t deserve that.

#hawkfurze #sorry for breaking the ask and also for the gigantic post #also that it took hours to finish up but I wanted a little more time with this #and I seriously appreciate you asking!#I'm also hoping this isn't just a mess of an explanation too so don't mind me #<3 #chy takes a stab at memes #fic: I won't ask for much #fic series: we could make a home out of this

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Evil’s Bane: Ch 9. Everyone has Something to Lose

The wrath that filled Leere was unfathomable. Separated from her allies, she had no reason to believe that they might still be alive. Everything in Inferos and the Tower of Death had pushed her limits so quickly. Time felt off and she had no grasp of her spacing around her. Was she in the middle of the tower, transported close to the ground, or not even in it anymore? The very least she could process she was in what looked like a massive hall. It held rows and rows of pillars from the ground to the roof, and down each end it appeared the room was endless. About a couple fields of distance away, there was a massive obelisk, illuminated by the moon piercing its light through very large glass windows the size of small fields. Using her staff as a cane, she ventured forward, wondering if she could use the Obelisk as a magical conduit to bring the entire tower down.

"So you finally arrived." A smooth voice called out from the dark. Destroyer was there in the endless hallway, standing in the Obelisk's shadow. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd show up at all. Aren't princesses taught to be on time?"

Leere stopped walking, her staff echoing far as she planted her hilt into the floor. “Perhaps. But a Sage is never late or early. They arrive precisely when needed. And they hate cliches. Such as the Dark Lord waiting at the top of his tower.... step in the light.”

"Now, now, you should know that family sometimes share traits, especially since my brother loves to make an entrance... or more specifically, his host." Destroyer was actually not so terrifying. He was beautiful; an array of scales that reflected the various colors of the ocean. Two navy horns sprouted from his head which was coated in silver hair, and a pair of blue wings adorned his back. He was a long, lost creature of legend... a Drakkan; the fabled half-dragon, half-human. A long tail flicked behind him as his clawed, raptor-like feet gently touched the steps as he descended to Leere. "Though I'm sure that I am not what you expected. There was a slight... well... mix-up with our hosts, you see."

“Is that right?” Leere was alarmed by the appearance at first, but then steeled her will. Appearances after all could be deceiving. “Is it because you deserve the title of a snake who slivers in the dark?”

"Very perceptive of you." Destroyer chuckled, very amused by her expression. "You see, thanks to Tzitzimime, I obtained the host everyone adored; an innocent healer of his kind." He then held up one hand. "Then my dear brother inherited the host who everyone would fear and abhorred; a snake who would devour and use others."

“I’ll ask this once. Why? Why join forces with the Devil? Because you feel so hurt and alone at the loss of your long-lost love? Is that why you want to destroy this world? You can’t mature and grow up like everyone else in the world?”

"Oh, trying to get all psychological on me? Make me feel guilt? Admit my mistakes and repent? Perhaps I should reflect upon these actions... yet, I care not for the opinions of a meager human." Destroyer pretended to be offended, clutching at the center of his chest. "My only goal is to be rid of everything my brother created. When he is gone, when his creations are gone, then it shall be just Kaksa and I. No more interruptions, no more work, nothing but the void and us. Tzitzimime can have this little planet for all I care."

Leere looked at him with contempt and fury. “Then that makes you the most dangerous being I’ve ever encountered. Your insanity dooms all of life. For my family, my country, and all of life, I’ll do what I must.”

Taking a battle stance, Leere activated the blade on her scythe. Her staff she gripped glowed a soft red, and the plasma of her blade shined a mighty blue. Both colours basked her image with a fierce light.

"Oh, why do you look so worried, 'tiny princess'?" Destroyer mocked Leere with the title that Bonegrinder had given to her. "Surely you must know that the Mortuus aren't of my brother's work. Your kind are the result of Tzitzimime trying to sow some of his seeds in one of my creations. Tempting them, warping them... making them better. I quite enjoy the madness and bloodlust." He then snickered when she took an offensive stance. "You think you can defeat me with a gardening tool?"

“I will defeat you. And I’ll take your head too.”

Leere’s eyes filled with bloodlust and she began her first strike. With a swing of her scythe, she charged a sickening red energy, throwing an energy slash at him. The blast missed when Destroyer ducked, but it cleaned right through the obelisk like it was a bullet traveling through butter.

"Impressive for a human that earned the title of Shadow Sage." Destroyer glanced at the ruined Obelisk. "Now, it's my turn." The deity only had to touch the ground with his hand and the floor started to disintegrate. His objective was to bring Leere closer, putting her in a difficult position.

Leere ran forward, hopping from tile to tile. He wanted her to get close? Fine. But she’d make him see that only made her more ferocious. As she drew closer, she summoned a wall master from behind him. The flying fist struck Destroyer in the back of the head. As he was off balance, if only for one second, Leere drew in close enough to make a clean cut across his chest. The plasma of the scythe burned incredibly well against her opponents’ skin.

Plink, plink, plink... a few scales scattered across the tile, sounding like falling coins. Following another cut, flesh fell with a wet plump on the floor. Yet, the Destroyer was hardly fazed. While effective, he simply stood upright, his body healing. The God could push through any pain, for he had no fear of feeling it. It seemed he possessed that same ability to heal his host, just like Prama did for Bonegrinder. Both of the brothers refused to let their host die until their work was complete. "Didn't your mother teach you any of her wisdom?" Destroyer sneered at the princess with a sinister grin. "In battle, aiming for the head is the most affective move... yet, here, that wouldn’t help you anyway." With his giant wings, Destroyer gave a mighty 'whoosh' of wind and knocked Leere backwards, before purposely grabbing the burning scythe right on under the blade, spinning her around with it, and slamming her down three times against the tile floor.

Leere felt her head spin and blood spurt from her mouth. He was just like her brother. She doubted that even if she had a bomb, she could kill him. Klinge couldn’t do the same to Bonegrinder. So that left Leere with one option. The one thing she knew that she could affect Bonegrinder with, so maybe it could work against this prick. Blood magic. Grabbing his arm, she immediately started to leech him best she could. “Die you Bastard.”

"Ah... blood magic. One useful thing that I managed to pull from the discarded shadows of my brother." Destroyer's movements were suddenly slowed, fighting against her control. "Unlike you, though, 'tiny princess'... I am not alone."

“You are the one alone. You’re a pathetic pile of death worshiping garbage! What’s the matter? Scared of dying? Like all of the people you want to erase?”

Both hands of hers reached up to squeeze up around his neck. She had to focus. Even if it meant sacrificing her life, she’d snuff the life out of him.

"Heh, the Goddess Zarazu would love it if I did worship her but she has the God Ba'puu to do that." As Leere reached for his throat, he then said, "You can try to kill me, it won't work... though, I'd be more concerned about Tzitzimime.I think he has something of yours."

“...What?”

Suddenly, a tentacle with a blade tip stabbed from behind Leere and through her stomach. It wouldn’t kill her, but it was enough to stop her concentration on the Destroyer. Now that her hands dropped to her side, he could clamp his own around her throat. The Shadow Man whispered behind Leere, planting a finger on the back of her head. He drained her of magic, leaving her powerless. “Take her. The ritual will begin with her suffering and torment.”

Leere’s mind went fuzzy, and her body fell into the arms of the Destroyer as if she was some poor roofied girl. “N-no. Bonegrinder....” The Shadow Man grabbed her scythe, impressed by its build. “Think I’ll keep this. Top of the tower. The little meat bags are waiting for you to put her in place.”

"Now, now, why are you calling for the host of my brother?" Destroyer asked the princess with a snide chuckle. "After all, he tried to warn you and you wouldn't listen. We can sense each other, you see, 'tiny princess'. He desperately wanted to save you, but now... he's as trapped as you are." When the chaotic deity gave his order, Destroyer unfurled those huge wings and started to fly to the top of the tower. "You should have listened to him while you had the chance."

The section of tower Bonegrinder and Black found themselves in was eerie. The hallways were slimy, with hard black walls that were very nest like, as if they were shrunk down to a wasp’s catacomb. This flesh was growing over what used to be a metal hallway. The only light sources were windows still uncovered, moonlight still peaking in.

Black was sure that Bonegrinder would be furious with him for not choosing to go to Leere. Yet, the woman made her choice. She wanted to try to save some of these already damned souls. Personally, Black was beginning to question her sanity as well. True, Bonegrinder had his moments, but at least he admitted he was somewhat insane, mainly due to two souls sharing one body. Leere was... something else. Fortunately, Bonegrinder was still alive and well, but... out of his rational state of thought, mumbling to himself. The Wraith was certain he could hear Prama's whisperings, trying to help the Anagari get a grip but failing to do so. What the Wraith did not know was what Bonegrinder was seeing... the corpses of his family.

In the not too far distance, someone stumbled out of a door. A Mortuus cultist, walked a few steps forward, until finally his top half fell backwards as his legs fell forward. Something had cut him in half on the other side of the door.

"Bonegrinder, you need to come with me." Black had knelt down beside of the Anagari, trying to get his attention. "Leere will require our aid if... she's not already dead, but we need to get out of here. Destroyer is very close and... I believe that Tzitzmime is as well."

Bonegrinder did not even hear Black. All he heard was the words of his deceased family. His daughter with her birdsongs. His son requesting to go hunting. And his beautiful wife... his Brightscales, as he once called her... was asking why.

Voices whispered out to Black, as if the tower itself was taunting him. ”You can’t save her. She’ll make us whole.”

The Tower of Death could feel its purpose about to be realized. The walls had glow of red go up and down its walls. Suddenly, the corpse that was collapsed not too far away quickly mutated into one of the ghouls seen before. Hissing, it sniffed the air, until it saw Black and Bonegrinder. Angrily, it clawed its way back into the way it came, as if wanting to escape them.

THWACK!!!

Black cut off the head of the ghoul quickly, so it would not go and find friends to bring back later. Prama, meanwhile, was fighting like mad to Bonegrinder. Between all the suffocating darkness and using much of his magical excess to heal the Anagari, the deity was struggling.

"You big, fat, lump of flesh, get your scaley ass moving! Modoc!!! Move it!!! Leere needs you!!! Black needs---oh thank me, he's here."

Black tried again, moving the Anagari's head to look at him. "Bonegrinder, come on, you can't let old ghosts haunt you! What happened back then was not your fault!!!"

Behind the door, Black could hear someone hacking apart more ghouls.

"...? Hades? Is that you?"

No answer. Just droplets hitting the ground. Followed by a thick splat.

On the other side, Bi-Hanzo was still trapped within his own personal hell. He learned the “truth”. He could see it with his own eyes. And it was all so, so terrible. Grasping a map off a wall, he was reading it carefully. As one last remaining ghoul grabbed his leg, he lurched back. With a quick kick he knocked its head right out the door.

"... Hanzo?" Black did not expect the man to make it this far alive. While his magical talents were impressive, many others of the 'good' Mortuus had succumbed to these monsters.

Bi-Hanzo didn’t hear him, tearing papers off a wall and rummaging through them. “It’s all connected. They have every location of our villages down to the coordinates. Our bodies. They’ve been kidnapping and harvesting our bodies. For what? For this tower? For their precious gods?!!!” The man sounded unhinged.

"That's an easy answer, it's because these people are demented and Tzitzmime is their deity." Black was not in the mood for a mental breakdown at the moment. Once more, he tried to rouse his master. "Bonegrinder, please, we need to leave. This place is getting fouler by the minute and I am concerned for all of our sakes.”

When Black turned to go back to his master, he paid for his lack of human understanding. A massive block of ice encased his body from behind, and Bi-Hanzo brought his attention to Bonegrinder. “You. This is just as much your fault as Destroyah! You vile god of creation.”

"....!!!" Black was not expecting for Hanzo to turn on him. The ice trapped his movements momentarily, but he was able to slip his physical form into the shadows to break free. Before Hanzo could touch the Anagari with his magic, Black had shot out from behind the man, getting him in a headlock. He held a blade at Hanzo's throat. "Try that again, and it will be your head rolling."

Bi-Hanzo had more then enough time with Black’s threat to turn into mist, and phase through him. Solidifying behind him, he thrust his arm forward, using physical contact to steam Black’s body to a boiling point. As the Wraith swiped at him, Bi-Hanzo broke off. Taking a stance, the guardian was ready to kill. “No. I will take yours.”

Black underestimated exactly how much magical knowledge Hanzo had. He yelled when the steam scorched his skin and leapt backward from the Mortuus. This man was trouble. He should have killed him earlier.

"I've lived lifetimes. You're a child compared to me." Black growled at the Mortuus. "You will not touch my master."

“I’ve killed plenty of undead and mad Echidnans. You’ll be no different.” Cooling the air, Bi-Hanzo fired off large icicles at Black, but in the direction of Bonegrinder.

"I'm not an undead and I'm not an Echidnan. Not fully, at least, of either..." The Wraith managed to deflect the shards of ice and kept a defensive stance. Nothing would harm Bonegrinder, not while he could still roam this earth. He stomped one foot to the ground, causing the shadows to shift underneath Hanzo, latching onto the man. "You won't win."

“I’ll kill you both! You’re a follower of the fallen god Proxamus! He only creates suffering!” Struggling off the shadows, Bi-Hanzo froze the floor underneath them. Slamming his fist on the ground, more bladed icicles shot upwards to stab into both Black and his master.

Black reacted quickly enough to swallow Bonegrinder in the shadows and spit him out, but did not possess the energy to avoid the ice spikes the same way. He managed dodge most of them, but was still sliced by the frost. The Wraith was done with this nonsense. Maneuvering through the ice, he blinded Hanzo with one of his flash bombs before sinking the sword into the man's heart. "I serve no one but Bonegrinder."

Once again, on instinct of being blinded, Bi-Hanzo turned himself in a mist form. If he could see an attack coming, he could avoid the damage. Stepping away from Black, he rubbed his eyes as he solidified. “You serve the God of Creation trapped in flesh. He could save my people, but he only cares for himself! Kenshi. Lang. All the others. I will avenge them!!!”

Ranting, Bi-Hanzo kept put up a solid wall of ice between himself and his targets. Only in his mental struggle, their were a few openings now. Suddenly, as if a spell ended over him, he gripped his head. The image of Black and Bonegrinder was groggy behind the ice. “... Wait. What’s going on? My head....”

Black saw that Hanzo was distracted. He took this as a chance to strike. Throwing his dagger at the man, the Wraith hit Hanzo right between the eyes.

Black gasped, stumbling backwards. The dagger didn’t pierce enough to kill him outright, unable to reach his brain. But none the less he screamed. “W-what are you doing?!?!”

"You attacked my master and myself, I should be asking you, you damn idiot!"

Parts of his body were solidified, others were misty, such as his head. It didn’t look like he’d last long. “I what? Oh god. Oh god not yet.” The ice wall broke apart, starting to turn into vapour, another sign of Bi-Hanzo dying. “Where’s the sage?”

"If I knew that, why the hell would I tell you?" Black stood over Bonegrinder, hoping the snake would be rousing soon from his nightmares.

“She was right.” Bi-Hanzo’s breakdown was starting to come back to the man. Pointing at a map in the room over, he breathed heavily. The knife had fallen out when his head turned to mist, but the blood was still pouring down his face. “There’s a map with our villages. If you gave a damn, you could save them before...” His eyes slowly widen, as if he came across something truly horrible. “Oh no. They have her. Spirits save us. Can you hear them? Taunting us? They have her.”

"You are wrong in assuming that I would care about the people who once hurt the only person who gave a damn to help me." Black watched as Hanzo started to fade into nothing. "It's hard to feel guilt in this state. If you're worried about the Shadow Sage, then pray to your fallen god to save her. Or for a miracle. I'm no god."

“Please. You must.”

Suddenly, from the darkness, a monster as large as Hades stepped out behind Bi-Hanzo. It was a creature with a head of six bulbs for eyes, legs as thick as tree trunks, and six clawed arms protruding from its body. To be blunt, it was the most alien looking thing Black had ever seen. The man turned to it, in an almost suicidal trance. “An Angel...”

It looked like he was about to hug it. That was when the Abomination stabbed into his body, it’s arms sharper than any blade Black held on him. Bi-Hanzo was shredded as if he was simply a pig for the slaughterhouse. This would be a good moment to run.

"...!!!" Black stilled, feeling a sense of absolute dread wash over his being. How could he fight this... this thing? It was not a creature he knew how to kill. Was it a hellspawn? It had to be; he knew of nothing else it could be.

"... Modoc..." The Wraith muttered under his breath, eyes wide and trying not to make any sudden movements to agitate the monster further. "Wake the fuck up or we're both going to get eaten."

Inside of Bonegrinder's head, the Anagari floated in a void. He had withdrawn from his physical surroundings and was trapped inside of his own mind. There, Prama was suspended in front of him, in all of his glory. The Maker, the creator of all light and creatures of it, tried to console, Bonegrinder. "You cannot give up yet, Modoc. There is still much to do and to be done."

"He is so tired, Prama, so tired. Please, please let him sleep the eternal rest and be with his family again. Let him die."

"And what of your precious friends? The ones you call your 'children' and look after?"

"They will all be fine."

"What of Leere?"

"The tiny princess no longer listens to him. She will not listen now."

"She is in danger. Will you not help her?"

"How can he now?" The Anagari looked so defeated. "If he goes, you will be at risk. Without you, the world will descend into madness. If he stays away, Chaos could become whole sooner yet either way, the prophecy will be fulfilled."

"If Chaos forms into a whole from a fragment, then everything could be lost. This world, myself, and Kaksa. I do not want to risk her... would you want to risk your beloved Brightscales?"

The Anagari's eyes narrowed. "Don't call her that. That is his name he gave her, reserved for him to call her alone."

"Would you?"

"... no. He would not. He could not imagine it."

"Then you need to wake up and go."

The Abomination made no hiss, no scream, no roar like any of the ghouls or cultists in the tower. It simply strolled up to Black calmly to tear him piece to piece.

Black stood his ground, ready to fight... yet before he could, Bonegrinder's massive tail thwacked the Hellspawn away from the Wraith. Surprised, the Wraith did not expect the Anagari to recover so soon. "...?! Bonegrinder?! Are you---"

"He will be fine. We must find Leere. We've not the time to deal with this thing."

The Abomination cracked its neck back into place as it picked itself up from the ground. With the pace of a silent killer, it kept walking at a modest speed towards them, all its limbs ready to grab the next tail or person that drew too close.

"Do you have enough reserve to use your shadows to move us to her?"

"That... would be a stretch. But I will try."

"Then do so."

With that... the two disappeared from the shadows.

The Abomination nearly missed grabbing them. No matter. The Tower of Death had a mind of its own. It had to keep Bonegrinder and Black away from Leere. And it would send its Angel in the right direction to catch them once more. Nothing good would escape this hell.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626629526442655744/evils-bane-ch-8-looming-dread

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626631967066243072/evils-bane-ch-10-evil-anew

#Crossover #Appreciate your thoughts commented!#ridersoftheapocalypse #Leere #Leere Dragmire #Dhakk #Bonegrinder #Black the Wraith #Horror #Malus

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

out of my league // t. h — 02

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: If Tom seems a bit out of character here, I apologize. This is after all, my first time writing for him, and it’s all based other fanfiction I’ve read about him or how I see him on screen. Do let me know what you think, it’d be great if some of you had pointers!

Also, the story does start out a bit slow in the beginning, but trust me, there’s a lot of stuff that’s going to happen that can potentially make things very, very interesting. So hoping to see your reactions~

Thanks for all the love and support, darlings~

Word count: 2845

Series Masterlist

01 | 02 | 03 |

Ch. 02

At times when (y/n) was not critiquing, she found herself buried in books. She would never call herself an avid reader because she was working most of the time, and for her, reading to write a review didn’t come under reading for fun.

It had been close to a year since she had read anything that she didn’t have to critique, and for the first time, she felt a tad bit cheerful for it. It was a book called The Girl Who Fell From The Sky, and narratives such as these always caught her eye. However, this wasn’t how it used to be. Things before never phased her when she was buried into a book; she could man any distraction and not let it come between her mystic connection with the book she held in her hands. However, now, being an adult changed everything.

(y/n) found it hard to maintain concentration—this didn’t mean that the book wasn’t interesting; she found it interesting enough, though, whenever her phone went off for a notification, her eyes would instantly lift off the page and land on her phone.

The hate mail fell in number, but they came nonetheless. While some were personal, others were not too fond of her physique and mannerisms on social media. (y/n) had to shut down and deactivate Facebook, Instagram, and didn’t bother to even check Twitter after the fiasco. It had been three days since her break and last conversation with Mr. Holland, after which he hadn’t tried contacting her or approaching her for another apology.

But, these days, journalists made sure that the shelf life for any news story lasts longer than it intentionally was supposed to last. It wasn’t as if they had something against (y/n), it was simply them doing their jobs, and making sure they get enough viewership and interaction with the audience as possible. And here, in London, people loved the best Spiderman, and people loved the man who played the tragic character, Lionel—Tom Holland.

And even if (y/n) never personally attacked Tom, and attacked instead a writer who was always constantly attacked by even the most amateur of critics, news channels made sure to squeeze as much juice out of this story—(y/n)—as possible.

And this meant going through her critiquing history.

That Wednesday night, (y/n) remembered watching Love, Actually for the thousandth time, alone in her little cozy home, ignoring the rain outside during the monsoons that pervaded London. After the movie ended, teary eyed for being the secret romantic that she was, (y/n) swiped across random channels until her eyes fell on a picture of herself on television. Immediately, she checked the time. It was over 9 o’ clock. It was prime time. She was doomed.

How am I not off the news yet? Really? They’re going to punish me for doing my job? The tears, they fell now because of the news and not Hugh Grant’s handsomeness. Covering her mouth with both hands, she watched in shock as Jenny began to narrate another story of hers. A story she hadn’t thought was serious.

“Turns out that our favourite critic,” Jenny gestured sarcastically, “had also gotten into a small duel with another actor before Tom.”

“That did not happen.” (y/n) whispered, grimacing at the screen.

“Apparently, after having viewed the hit movie, Do You Remember Us? starring Chris Evans, (y/n) had written a nasty review about the direction of the movie!”

(y/n) groaned. Chris was such a sweetheart, she remembered fondly. He even made a statement on the internet saying how much he liked the review and how he understands the displeasure several fans felt with the way the film was directed.

Slow and neat in the first half and rushed toward the end—forcing an exit for the character in the movie, which wasn’t called for in the slightest. But, journalists never pay heed to comments that could lighten the bruise on the person in question. It was almost as if news channels were bullying her for being a critic, and perhaps, it was because she had made so many others in the past very unhappy for the reviews she had written.

She knew when she got into this job that it wasn’t appreciated by several artists. Years and years put into bettering her best, (y/n)’s words were considered truth almost, for how raw and real her critiquing style was. She made it a point to talk about good things and bad things in every movie or TV show or book she criticized, and criticizing never meant just saying bad things.

Movie directors would often appreciate her good reviews and saw that more people turned up to their films after the review was published. And even if she had written a disappointing review, (y/n) always made it a point to never badmouth any artist—it was their hard work at the end of the day. A vision that they saw, which perhaps didn’t deliver in the best way for the audience. And this is no one’s fault. Rushed or otherwise, (y/n) ensured that her reviews, bad or good, would talk about the importance of art as a whole.

But, all of that didn’t matter right then. She was hated because Tom Holland “hated” her review and didn’t agree with her. No other celebrity had ensued a statement for her review in such a way before, not directly at least. Displeased writers or directors would contact her personally and ask for an explanation, which she would handle very professionally.

If only Tom had contacted her—not that he had any right to since there was nothing bad written about her in that review. If only he had read the entire review, he could have seen how (y/n) had mentioned some of the key writing skills that Jean did possess.

She stood up immediately, with a newfound confidence. Heading to the kitchen counter, this decision of hers that popped up out of nowhere, had in fact, come from one place—loneliness and sadness; the two often came together, and weren’t good influences.

Picking up the bottle of wine carefully, (y/n) didn’t bother about taking a glass out. The wine bottle had already been opened the night she had written the review, it needn’t be poured into the glass at the moment. I don’t care anymore, she thought before gulping down a mouthful of the red wine, which stung the back of her throat the second it was swallowed. She was never really too much of a drinker, but the night called for it. Turning off the television, (y/n) decided to drink with the quiet tune of her raging thoughts.

It took five such gulps and fifteen more minutes for her to officially fall under the dangerous level of intoxication. She was giggling at nothing now, teary eyed for reasons that all fell under moronic during normal circumstances. Intoxication had its own way of letting you know how alone you are in the world; of how to doubt your choices, and how to not be proud of them.

These thoughts came slowly and almost hesitantly, but when they came, it was as if they were welcome.

Her phone rang, but she didn’t pick the call. She thought of Jean, and she thought of how she wanted to call him up—she had his contact from a few earlier reviews, all of which were not so pleasant—and she thought of demanding an explanation. She thought of Susannah, of how she once thought of her manager as the nicest person on the planet, but was someone who only cared first for the firm and (y/n) came slowly following behind like a lost puppy.

She thought of all the years of hard work she had put to come to a position where writing those reviews made her money. She worked as a reporter, and on the desk, and almost everywhere and overtime to get to this spot—and it was snatched from her for simply doing her job.

And she thought of Tom Holland. The attractive and kind actor, whose performance as Spiderman in the Avengers series tore a hole in her heart. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when Peter Parker faded into dust in Tony’s arms. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when he was brought back, again in Tony’s arms. She thought of all the nice things she had written about Tom, the bubbling little high school girl crush that was dormant inside of her led to further disappointment since it was the very same Tom that had taken her hard work away.

As if it were a reverie, drunk (y/n) noticed her phone ringing at last. Trudging toward her device, she saw that the caller ID wasn’t visible. And just as she was about to pick the call, the call ended. In her intoxicated state, she checked how many times this person had called her—there were four missed calls. Blinking a couple of times, and before she lay her phone back on the couch, it rang again. This time, she picked. And this time, she didn’t care if she sounded drunk.

“Who is it~?” Her voice was sing song.

There was shuffling on the other side, and no answer.

“Are you... another journalist? Calling to get a note from me for the review I wrote—”She was hiccuping now. “I’m sorry, so yeah. Where was I?” She giggled after this sentence.

It was as if the person on the other end was simply waiting. (y/n) took this as a positive for her questions.

“I knew it! Okay, okay, okay. Whaddaya wanna know?” She dragged the ‘o’ at the end of her question.

“I didn’t even write anything bad about Tom… Did you guys even—”Hiccup. “—read the review? Don’t my old reviews count anymore?” She dragged the ‘ore’ at the end of her question. “I wrote such nice things for Tom before! Even on here! I can’t believe he made that satement, oops. I meant, statement. Sorry.”

There was still no voice on the other end.

“I just did my job, really.” Her voice was low now and perhaps, the intoxication had reached the level of sadness, which allowed her to cry. “I don’t want to be hated on like this.. I pretend as if those words don’t hurt me, but they do!” She dragged the ‘oo’ in the end of her sentence.

“I’m sorry.” Came a voice that she couldn’t recognize.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, journalist.” She said, smiling wide, tears falling down her cheeks.

When the call ended, (y/n) decided she had had enough. Going to bed seemed the only viable option, after having such an intense conversation with a stranger.

“Is something the matter?” Harry asked, staring at his brother.

“Yeah, your face is funny.” Sam said, grinning.

Tom looked up at his brother with a straight face.

“I meant, you look very sad over somethin’. Is everything alright?”

Tom sighed. It was the kind of sigh you sigh when something is so wrong and you blame nothing but yourself for leading it there. Harry and Sam looked at each other before looking back at their brother. Tessa was asleep next to Tom, and if she could talk, maybe she’d know what was up in Tom’s mind.

I feel so bad for her, Tom thought, recalling the conversation (or the lack thereof) he had with (y/n) over call a couple of hours ago. She was quite obviously drunk, another fact he felt terrible for. Tom was quite an observant person, and he could hear it in her tone how sad she actually was.

As if a shock came over his body, Tom quickly opened his phone and browsed for her reviews—the ones she had written on Spiderman and Avengers; the ones she had mentioned were nice.

Tom felt worse for not having read them before. She had written descriptively on how well thought out the movie was, and had even mentioned Tom’s improvisation at the end (the scene where he said he didn’t want to go, as Tony Stark held him in his hands). He sighed once more, the same distressed sigh, and rubbed his hand under his jaw.

He had called to apologize, having seen her in the news. It was the first time he had seen her face, (e/c) eyes and a nice smile, her hair neat and kempt. Another failed apology, he thought before laying back on the couch.

The next morning, Tom called her first thing, during his morning run. For a second he thought maybe it was too early and that she might still be asleep, but when she picked the call, he felt his heart skyrocket.

“Hi, I called you last night—”

“That was you?!” She didn’t sound pleased.

Tom chuckled nervously.

“Oh my God, you heard me when I was drunk? Couldn’t you have stopped me! This is so embarrassing!”

“No, no! I didn’t mind! I mean—” Shit, what am I saying? “I meant, I can understand. You don’t have to feel embarrassed—”

“Mr. Holland, I did not want to cry out my sorrows to you when I was intoxicated. You could have at least let me know that it was you on the other end. What was that?!”

Tom was quiet. He knew he had stressed her out, but now he genuinely wanted to help. He stayed up almost half the night reading so many of her reviews, seeing how she had never insulted a single artist or writer for their art, but only criticized the story. Tom, who had no idea how critiques were written or what thought went into it (and had only believed it was saying bad things, honestly), had finally learned that there was more to criticising than met the eye. (y/n) was a hard working woman, and Tom had somehow made things quite difficult for her.

“Listen, (y/n), can I call you that?”

There was no response. Perhaps, she had understood that he had something to say, and was allowing him the chance to speak.

“(y/n), I really want to apologize for what happened. I made a mistake and reacted hastily. I’m going to make things right, but I want to run it by you once before I do it. Please let me apologize to you properly over coffee? I insist—”

“I already told you, Tom,” his heart beat faster at the way she said his name. It made him feel terrible. Her talking reminded him of his guilt. “I don’t want to meet you for coffee, and if I can recall, I asked you to leave me be.”

“Yes! Yes, you did. But, listen, I just feel so terrible—Oh my God.”

What Tom saw was a bunch of photographers heading his way. Recognizing him was fairly easy, and because he was on call, he had forgotten to take the path that could have avoided the early morning paparazzi that was waiting for him at the “posh” end of town. Tom groaned before turning around hastily and making a run for it, looking like a complete fool for doing so the way he did, but there was no other faster reaction his brain offered.

“Hello?” (y/n) was growing impatient.

“I really have to call you back, (y/n), I am so sorry—”

“Don’t call me back. Good day, Mr. Holland.”

And there goes another wasted effort for an apology.

Tom didn’t call her back. Not like she expected him to, she had made things too hard for him to apologize. She half expected him to tell one of his friends about how he’s tried so hard to apologize and how she’s being so hard on him—and this invariably getting on the news as well, garnering more hate for her.

(y/n) licked her lips before putting on a white baggy sweater. She sat at the edge of her bed and brought her legs up and folded them under her, before grabbing the book she was reading earlier. Just as she read a sentence, her house bell rang.

“Coming!” She called out, before stopping midway.

What if they’re journalists? It couldn’t have been hard for them to find out where I live, her heart was beating at 300 mph at the moment with the mere thought that it could be reporters at her doorstep. She didn’t have the heart nor the energy to deal with any other person at the moment. Her heart had already been damaged way too much.

The bell rang once more, and her heart along with it.

(y/n) cursed loudly for not having a peephole through which she could have seen who was on the other side. She had to open the door before finding out who was on the other side. Shutting her eyes and quickly muttering a prayer to who knows what, (y/n) opened the door.

And the shocked face she made perhaps didn’t startle Tom as much as his awkwardly smiling face startled her.

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@strangemaximoff, @aestheticgaybish, @noobmaster63, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay, @wonders-of-the-multiverse, @boushalaivre, @jackiehollanderr, @nerdypisces160, @yourwonderbelle, @quackson606, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff

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