#cw fetal death

[alex51324]

So I read this article a few days ago, and I have been haunted by it ever since.

This young woman, Nevaeh, had an "oops" pregnancy. As you may have already guessed, she was from a Christian background--her name, "Heaven," spelled backwards, is popular in Evangelical circles. She, "believed abortion was morally wrong," and "didn’t care whether the government banned it," since she wouldn't have chosen to have one anyway.

Instead, she decided to carry the pregnancy to term and raise the baby, with the support of her mother and her boyfriend, the baby's father. Her boyfriend, the baby's father, gave her a diamond promise ring, and she picked out a name--Lillian--and planned a baby shower.

On the day of the baby shower, she felt unwell, then developed a fever and began vomiting. Her mother took to her to the ER, where she was given a prescription for antibiotics and sent home. A few hours later, she felt even worse, and her mother took her to the other hospital in their town, which had an obstetric emergency room. They did some tests, including checking the fetal heart rate, and told her the baby was fine. The gave her IV fluids and antibiotics, recorded her increasing fever, fast pulse, and high fetal heart rate, and sent her home again. She had to be taken out to the car in a wheelchair, because her pain was so bad.

A few hours later, she started bleeding, and they went back to the hospital with the obstetric emergency department. There, a different doctor did an ultrasound and was unable to find a fetal heartbeat.

Under Texas law, a medical practitioner faces up to 99 years in prison for performing any intervention that ends a fetal heartbeat. So, at this point, the doctors were free to treat her like a seriously ill human being, and not an ambulatory vessel for a life more valuable than her own--however, they hadn't recorded the first ultrasound. To ensure they could demonstrate compliance with the law, the doctor ordered a second one.

Somehow, that ended up taking about an hour and a half, during which time Neveah's condition got worse. By the time the second ultrasound was done, and the doctor was able to order a D&C to remove the deceased fetus, she was too weak to sign the release forms--her mother had to sign for her.

Before they got her into the operating room, she was dead.

If they were going to make an exception for anybody, they would have made one for her: a pro-life, Christian girl, who responded to her unplanned pregnancy by getting excited about becoming a mom. Who was not just unwell, not just in danger, but actually dying when she was refused care.

The Texas fetal heartbeat law does have an exception when the mother's life is at immediate risk. However, the Texas Attorney General has made clear--and several Trump-appointed judges have backed him up--to Texas doctors that they will be charged with homicide if he, who has no medical credentials whatsoever, disagrees with their professional judgment that a procedure which ended a fetal heartbeat was necessary to safe the life of the mother. That's why the doctor needed that second ultrasound.

That's probably why the other two doctors sent Nevaeh home: they couldn't be accused of an intervention that ended the fetal heartbeat, if they didn't intervene.

The leopards that eat people's faces, like all predators, go for the most vulnerable members of the herd. The guy up front on the podium, getting rich off bloviating about how leopards just have to eat a person's face from time to time, he's safe--not because of any loyalty on the part of the leopards, but because others in the group are softer targets.

Like I said, I'd been haunting me.

The Shirley Exception

[the-kr8tor]

Go by the Board

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW violence, CW injury, TW blood, TW death, CW needles.

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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

The bandages around your wrists itch, you try not to scratch the annoying feeling away knowing infection on a ship could be deadly for you. Frozen in a fetal position, your legs tucked under the dust covered blankets, you focus on the locked door, the silver pendant hanging on the doorknob sways as the boat rocks in the wild waves.

You've only slept for a few hours following what you've witnessed, the sailor's screams still echo in your mind, clawing and gnawing at your skull. You try not to think about it, pushing the image of him writhing on the blood soaked floorboards.

Maybe it's better if you don't think about it, ever. Scrubbing it from your mind, you exhale a shaky breath, fingers twitching to scratch that annoying itch.

Why is it so fucking itchy? Your nose itches. Why does everything in this damned room smell old? The small cabin seems to swallow you whole as you lay on the unusually soft mattress. You twist and turn, kicking the blankets away in frustration. Your head pounds from the oncoming headache.

Gritting your teeth, you hear gasps and pained yells from outside. There's something dragging under the sound of curses. You sit up, your eyes feel heavy, it seems like your brain is trying to escape from you. You don't blame it.

You do your best at trying to look normal, well normal for someone who hasn't slept for more than four hours for two days straight. Straightening your back, the noises stop right at your door.

There's shuffling then the clinking of keys, the door bursts open, a man stumbles inside, landing harshly on his face. You recognize the navy lieutenant, his hands and feet bound. His once pristine uniform slashed and dirtied with drying blood. His shiny medals are nowhere to be found.

You lift your feet up on the bed, shielding yourself, wide eyes staring at the captain who looks worse than you. Hobie's still wearing the exact same clothes he wore during the battle, cotton shirt marred by crimson and tattered at the seams, his eyes are bloodshot, the storm still raging inside. There's a large slash by his collar bone that's only been remedied by a hastily put bandage.

Gwen follows right behind him, equally tired and bloodied. Her face is flat, emotion unreadable. She holds a blunderbuss to the captive’s head.

“Now, do you know her?” Hobie speaks up above the silence. Your heart skips a beat after mentioning you. “Don't keep us waiting, George. We haven't got all day.”

The navy man props himself up slowly and painfully, his joints creak, wounds opening. He looks at you through one eye, blood and bruises obscuring his vision.

He inhales scratchily, you suspect his lungs have collapsed. He chuckles and you could only look back towards Gwen who secretly shakes her head at you.

The captive laughs louder and louder, like he's lost his damn mind. “I think I know who this room belonged to, you fuckin’ snake!” he sing songs.

Gwen pushes the barrel closer to his temple, he pauses for a moment before cackling again. Hobie's knuckles tighten but his face remains indecipherable.

“Did you think bringing me here will get me to talk about what happened that day?” He makes it his mission to rile Hobie up, he's given up.

“Or are you showing me her replacement?” His eyes slither over to you, cackling more and more as his eyes roam your body.

“Enough,” Gwen finally speaks, pushing the barrel painfully close to his skin. “He asked you a question”

“You've already gotten what you need from me you fuckin' barbarians!”

Hobie closes the distance, “And we need more from you.” he bends at the waist to forcefully move the man's face towards you. “Do you know her?”

The beaten man smirked evilly, bloodied smile tempting you to hit him. He tilts his head, “Aye,” alarm bells start ringing in your head.

“The captain sent her as a spy, just look at her,” he side eyes Hobie who stares at you with his stormy eyes. “Quite a siren, huh? Were you captivated, eh ‘captain’?”

You could only look at Hobie through tearfilled eyes, pleading silently. You want to live but your mouth has clamped shut, your entire body is frozen, preventing you from laying your case.

After a minute of listening to the man praise you for your supposed work, Hobie yanks him away when George gets too close to you.

“Good on you for confirming our suspicions.” Your heart drops to your stomach. “But the details you've given us don't quite match up with what she's told us.” Hobie clicks his tongue, “I think you need to sing more for us, Georgie.”

The man's smile drops, he swallows thickly.

“Take him below.” The captain says as he reels in his anger.

Finn appears from the doorway, immediately taking the prisoner by the collar, dragging him further down the hallway, while he kicks and squirms to no avail. Gwen follows, sparing you a quick nod. She shuts the door behind her, the clicking sounds like a death knell specifically for you.

The soft lapping of the waves doesn't ease your nerves, it acts as a countdown with every hit to the side of the ship. The seagulls squawk loudly just outside your window, they're annoying but at least they're free.

After a minute of quiet and Hobie's eyes roaming around the small cabin, you hear him thud against the door. This is it, you think, picturing him taking out his cutlass to sever your head from your shoulders. Or maybe he's a gentleman, preferring to off you quick and painless with his blunderbuss.

Instead of the loud booming sound of a gun going off, you hear his voice. “What happened to your fire?”

“I'm too tired to keep it lit.” you bravely look up, he leans on the door, his shoulders and face relaxed, back slouched, knuckles bloody and broken. “Are you going to bring me below too or are you gonna end me right here?”

He frowns, “Why would I do that?”

“Because he just told you—”

Hobie sighs, you fall silent. The lines of his face are prominent as the sun rises once again. The light from the window hits him just right, bathing him in soft yellow. He closes his eyes like he's savouring the warmth.

“Men like him will do anything to bring someone else down with him.” He opens his grey eyes, the storm has calmed down behind it. “He knows he's lost.”

“You tied me up. Locked me up.”

“I know, it was for the better until I truly know you're not one of them. You're alive aren't you? Do you want me to apologize?”

“No, fuck you. I want you to thank me for saving your first mate.”

He chuckles lowly, “There it is, keep that fire yeah?”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Sleep, you can have this cabin in the meantime.”

You glare at him, not trusting his own words.

“Here,” Hobie tosses a key at you. “my olive branch. Rest, trust me once everyone wakes from their poppy filled haze you're gonna wish you've slept.”

You hold the key in between your fingers, familiarizing yourself with the indents. “What?”

“Mend their wounds, doc. Prove your worth.” He turns to leave. “Do keep the place clean, yeah?”

You shakily stand up, locking the door behind him. Barely making it back to bed, you collapse, sleep taking you in its embrace.

—

You wake up to loud frantic knocking on your door. With a groan and sleep laden eyes, you reluctantly open the door.

Miles greets you, his smile not reaching fully to his tired eyes. “Finally! You sleep like the dead you know?”

“What's happening? Are we getting attacked again?” Your eyes roam across the cramped hallway.

“I hope not, they need you at the infirmary.”

“The ship has an infirmary?”

Following Miles through the halls and numerous stairs, you make unusual small talk.

“So…did Hobie tell you that I'm not a traitor?”

Miles stops in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Don't say the ‘T word’ around here or” he steps closer to whisper. You listen with trepidation. “or saving Gwen won't be enough for you to stay.” he looks around for a sign that someone else is listening.

“Why can't I say the ‘T word’? Did something happen back then?”

“Can you not?” He grimaces. “You can literally ask me anything else other than that.”

“Right, sorry.” You two continue to walk. “Who's MJ?”

Miles groans in annoyance. “Seriously?”

“What?! You said anything but that.”

“Alright, smart ass, anything but those two. Learn to read the room, jeez!” he shakes his head.

“Fine! How'd a kid like you end up here then? Am I allowed to ask that? Hmm?” you rile him up. This is the most fun you've had in days, anything to get rid of the thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Don’t call me kid, landlubber. If you hadn't saved Gwen back then I would throw you overboard so fast right now” Miles stomps further away from you while you chuckle.

“Yeah? And what's Gwen to you then? I see how you look at her.”

He stops with his hands on his hips, head falling in exasperation, he's too quiet.

“Miles?” oh shit. You might've gotten too far with your teasing. You weren't even sure what you said was true, it was just a wild guess.

“Is it that obvious?!” He suddenly yells, turning to look at you with his hands over his head like he's in physical pain. “You've been here for less than three days and you've noticed!”

“Please calm down.” You laugh nervously, the last thing you need right now is making Hobie's navigator cry. “I was teasing you is all.” You have no idea how to comfort the poor guy. “I won't tell anyone I promise!”

“Especially Gwen,” he points at you.

“I won't tell anyone.” you cross over your heart. “If you answer my questions” smiling mischievously, you can see Miles already regretting his choices.

“Blackmail? Really?” He huffs.

“Please it's the least you can do for me after saving the love of your life. Also blackmail is probably the lowest crime the bloodsail pirates have committed.”

Something passes by his eyes, a memory perhaps? You have no idea what it was but his eyes glissen over. He composes himself in a second, clearing his throat.

“Correction, you're not a bloodsail pirate.”

“I am for two weeks at least” you shrug.

“Finn is right, you are annoyingly talkative.”

“Hey! Talkative for his standards maybe. You try getting stuck in a small room with a silent giant and you will truly know how bored you can be.”

Miles nods, smirking like he knows something you don't. “You talk a lot to hide the fear inside you.”

Did he just psychoanalyze you?

“This crew will be the death of me, move, people are probably dying while we're talking” you walk past a grinning Miles.

Walking past a few more rooms, you spot an open door to your right. The dimly lit room catches your attention with its bookshelves full of gorgeously bound books.

“A library? You have a library here?!” You excitedly walk over to the doorframe, eyes quickly scanning the titles on the shelves. “I haven't seen a huge collection like this in my entire life.”

Miles steps over to the side, promptly shutting the door. “After you take care of my family then we can talk about library privileges.” He gives you a look that has you rolling your eyes.

“Fine, dork” you whisper the last word.

“What was that?” He clearly heard you.

“Nothing! Let's go and save some people.”

Turning the corner, leaning on the walls, there lies a line of disgruntled pirates. They hold on to their various injuries, groaning in pain. They cheer once they see you but they quickly shut up after their pain flares up from the cheering.

Walking towards the open double doors of the infirmary, they look at you with their unreadable faces. The common theme though is the ache in their bones and the blood coated shirts.

You assess each of their injuries, some are minor, only having gashes on their arms and legs. A few are bleeding through their bandages, head wrapped hastily in bandages that clearly needs to be changed immediately.

Trying to remember what she taught you, you sigh, hands clammy. You haven't handled this many people, only used to treating a couple of people at a time in your small village with her. Times like this, you can't help but miss her. Shaking your head, you can't let your mind wander again, right when the people who are helping you stay literally afloat need you.

But you can't handle this many people alone.

“Uh…who’s more injured?” you ask.

They all raise their injured hands.

“Okay, who's still bleeding?”

Half of them raise their hands.

As if sensing your panic, Pavitr comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Need my help? I'm not that good with blood but I'm sure I can help. and Miles can help too, right, bud?” Pav catches Miles who's sneaking away to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Uh… to look for Ned, yeah! He can help too.”

Ned yells from inside the infirmary, “I'm already in here! I was the one who told you to fetch Y/N, remember?��

You and Pavitr share a look.

“Yep yep! I'm coming to help, see?” He stops when he's inside the small clinic. “Oh man, that's a huge needle you have there Ned”

You clasp Miles on his trembling shoulder, “Don't worry I'll keep it away from you. For a price of course.”

Miles huffs, gritting his teeth. “You get three questions.”

“Good–”

“After you're done here”

“Fine.” you enter the room with a roll of your eyes. The smell of poppy, ointment and iron fills your senses. Suddenly you're back at home, the roaring fire from the stone fireplace warms you as the huge book in your lap has you enthralled by the illustration of human anatomy.

Groaning brings you back to the present. The first thing you see is Ned tending to ugly mug, his back exposed. Ned’s huge needle is sewing up a deep cut just below the man's shoulder.

“Give it to me straight, mate, I'm gonna look even uglier now aren't I?” He asks Ned.

You scrunch up your nose after seeing his face still good looking and injury free.

Turning around to face Pav and Miles, you try to remember her teachings, you can still feel her hands guiding your own as she rambles on how you should always wash your hands before treating someone. It's been years since then, her voice is nothing but a memory, slowly fading away as you grow older.

You haven't been practicing much, but you kept up with your knowledge by reading pamphlets as much as you can. It's a useful skill afterall, especially when you travel. With an exhale, you start instructing the two.

“Pav,” he straightens up. “get me some hot water from the galley and the purest alcohol Finn has.”

“Got it, I have to fight Finn though” he runs off with determination in his eyes.

“Miles, I need you to triage” you continue as you head off to the basin to clean in between your nails. The dried blood from your fingernails turns the water murky and brown.

“Put the people in front of the line who need to get treated first and with the most severe injuries while the people with the least severe injury to the back of the line.” You look over your shoulder. “Understood?”

“I'm doing it but not because you told me to.” he goes out of the room, already yelling at his impatient crew mates. You hear someone saying ‘what the fuck is a triage? use english!’

You look at Ned. “Please tell me you washed your hands.”

—

You're incredibly hungry, again. Your fingers ache from all the sewing and patching you've done. Your hands smell like herbs and ointments. The muscles in your hands still shake from all the bullets you had to carefully take out. But everyone seems to be stable now, thanks to you.

Washing your hands in the newly replenished basin, you hear footfalls against wood from above. For a second your mind flings back to the fight, you pinch your pinky to distract yourself from the image.

A plate clangs behind you. Looking over your shoulder, Miles is once again trying to sneak away.

“Thanks, Miles” You genuinely smile at him, just looking at the hot plate of mashed potatoes and beans has your stomach grumbling.

“Fine, ask away” he sits across from you, arms crossed on his chest.

“I actually forgot about that, thank you for mentioning it.” You smile mockingly, taking the plate to finally eat.

“What? Oh come on, man” he points suspiciously at you. “Why are you so curious?”

“Because human beings are naturally curious.” Miles makes a face. “Fine, I want to know the backstory of the legendary bloodsail pirates. I mean can you blame me? I have to live with the crew for two weeks.”

He sighs, convinced. “As long as the answers to your questions are already known by the navy,” you nod, “ask away.”

You chuckle. “First question, Where did Hobie get this huge ship?”

“Stole it, next question”

“Really? you're not gonna elaborate on that? I got the needles far away from you the entire time.”

He clicks his tongue. “Stole it from a rich merchant ship years ago with just his wits and a blunderbuss. He's been upgrading it since then, you can barely see the original facade.”

“I gotta admit it to him, that sounds like a good story to tell.”

“Maybe if you play nice he can tell it to you someday.”

You sigh, “Some mysteries just have to stay a mystery.”

He chuckles softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Second question,” you take another spoonful of beans, chewing while talking. “Where did he get his crew?”

Miles looks at you with disgust. “Swallow first, Christ. Some joined later on, some like Gwen, Pav, Finn and I have been with him from the start.”

“Elaborate? Or I'll chew with my mouth open”

“What is wrong with you? I'm not done yet, jeez.” He looks like he's about to jump away from you. “A few of us were running from getting drafted during the war, only having us as their only option or go to jail.” You listen intently.

“But most of us joined after hearing about us, wanting to be pirates but they want to give back to the people instead of just taking and plundering for gold.” he scratches the back of his neck. “I guess some of us are more into it rather than just pure survival.”

“Wait, you do that? Like some sort of pirate Robin Hood?”

Miles looks at you surprised. “Of course we do, I'm guessing that doesn't make it to the sunday news huh?” he sighs. “Well that's what we do, we only take from the rich and give it back to the people who need it most. Most of the time the nobles and merchants don't suffer much loss from it.”

“Well until I see it for myself I'll think otherwise. Next question—”

“Nope, you've already asked your three questions!” He cackles.

“Wait, the last one doesn't count! Come on, one last very important one that if I don't get the answer to, I will combust.”

Miles pouts his lips, thinking like it's the most difficult thing ever. “Hmmm, you blowing up into tiny pieces sounds great actually.”

“I won't tell Gwen you're utterly in love with her. Just one last thing.”

“You won't tell anyone”

“I promise! And when I promise I intend to keep it.”

He exhales the most tired exhale ever. “Ask”

You smile. “Why follow Hobie?”

Miles stares at you directly, none of the annoyed look he's given, no boyish charm you've seen the entire day you've spent with him and the crew. He looks like a proper pirate with his back straight and loyalty emanating just from his tone.

“Because it's Hobie,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You have no idea the things he's sacrificed for us. Before we were a crew he— I owe him my life. And it's not blind loyalty, we're all free to leave if we don't want to follow him to the end. Some have already left.” He says the last part forlornly. “I guess I follow him because he's family, not just my captain.”

You look at your half eaten meal, family, you haven't heard that in ages. You have family somewhere, you're sure of it. In your journeys you've had people, friends, but not enough to be called your family; they haven't come close to what you had with her in that little cabin of yours in the middle of nowhere.

If only greed wasn't a thing, you'd still be with her.

You feel a ghost of your necklace graze your chest, instinctively holding on to it for comfort, disappointing yourself when you can't grasp it.

“Y/N?”

You clear your throat, fighting the tears from flowing. “So if he's your family and the crew is also your family, does that mean you're in love with Gwen who's supposedly your family? Hmmm?”

“You know what I meant! What is truly wrong with you?!”

“What? I'm just asking!”

“Oh really? Well you use humour as a crutch!”

You gasp, “Rude!”

“Yep that's you! Miss ‘I make jokes during serious conversations’”

“Understood, now where did I put that needle?” you act like you're trying to find it, patting your pockets.

“Nope, I'm already gone!” He's sprinting away from you. “You're needed in the galley by the way!” His muffled yell makes you laugh.

Another day, another quiet day in the galley for you.

—

During dinner, you've noticed the empty chairs, the sound of the waves crashing and utensils scraping still echoing in your ears as you watch them bring out their dead from below.

The full moon witnesses the crew put their dead on the now pillaged navy ship. The bodies wrapped carefully in white sheets. There's no breeze blowing or waves lapping at the sides of the ship. Everything's at a standstill.

The eerie silence has you standing by the edge of the crowd. Not a part of it but not truly alone.

The gas lamps illuminate the crew's expressions. You're not used to seeing their faces look so devastated, especially after all the laughs you've shared with them while mending their wounds mere hours ago.

You know it's not your place to be here or to even stand with them while they're mourning their friends. But you stay because if it's the other way around you'd want the only outsider to mourn with you, to stand in solidarity with you even if she doesn't know how the people you're laying down on the cold wood used to comfort you through the storm and how they used to hate the summer heat.

You'd want the outsider to know that they once lived.

The floorboards creak as Hobie lays the last body on the navy boat's deck, kneeling by the side to say his final farewell. After a moment, he stands up, knuckles so tightly closed that you can see his hands shake from where you're standing.

He cuts the rope tied to the mast, the sails unfurl, the slight breeze making it move slowly. Hobie jumps back to the revenge before the navy ship sails too far.

With his crew right behind him, you all watch as the ship sails for the final time. Hobie takes a musket from Gwen, they share a comforting look briefly before he takes aim at the ship. The shot echoes out, hitting the barrel full of gunpowder directly. Fire immediately bellows, engulfing the wooden ship.

The fire cackles further away but it still warms your cheeks. Orange and yellow dancing on the water as the mast burns and falls into the depths with a splash.

A soft voice sings a mellow tune, the lyrics full of sorrow and longing for what they've lost.

You look over to the source of the song, Yuri has her eyes glued to the flaming ship, her cadence echoes out to the open sea, the rest join in, goosebumps flare up on your arms. They sing about how the sea has claimed them but they aren't truly lost for they still sail the endless depths with the stars as their guide.

The singing ends and as everyone goes their separate ways, Hobie stays behind, watching as the fire devours the ship. With one last look, you head to your cabin, head full of thoughts that you'd rather not let it fester or it might consume you like the fire outside razing the once mighty ship.

The tune still stays with you until your head hits the soft pillow, you wonder how many times they've sung it together.

That night you wake up to someone screaming from above, cursing Hobie's name. Frantic footsteps dance above, you can hear a gun clicking. Recognizing the former lieutenant's voice, you fall back under the covers, jumping in place as you hear the gun go off followed by a splash and then a sudden silence.

For the next two days, you get acclimated to your life on the people's revenge. Having some sort of routine. In the morning you go to the infirmary to help clean their wounds and change their bandages, single handedly stopping infection. The survival rate of the injured has increased tenfold with your help. They greet you with a smile every morning, sometimes calling you ‘doc’ and you correct them everytime.

You haven't seen Hobie the past two days, always getting glimpses of him in the halls as he turns a corner. None of the crew have seen him out either. You wonder if he's had anything to eat in the past few days.

You've encountered how grief could consume someone, you hope you don't witness it again.

At lunch, you cook with Finn in the galley, making conversation, telling him stories you've heard during your journeys as he grunts and huffs in reply. You've gotten used to the quiet in the kitchen with only the waves outside and the bubbling pot filling your ears.

The crew have gotten better after the loss, they've started laughing again, making jokes and even including you to the conversation. You keep finding yourself chuckling among them during dinner.

After the day ends, you bring Pavitr his tea as he gets ready for another long night shift of sailing. As you head down to the library, you check in on Miles as he toils on a map, studying every detail, making sure the ship's on track. You bring him his cup, he's stopped looking at the tea suspiciously after the third time you've given him one.

You hear arguing in Hobie's cabin again, the voices are different each time you pass through but you don't dare eavesdrop, you swear that man has eyes everywhere.

The library has become your sanctuary, not the cabin you're temporarily placed in. You get a weird feeling everytime you enter the small room, like you don't quite belong in the obviously lived in space. There's tiny trinkets hidden on shelves, some are quite peculiar, unlike anything you've ever seen. You keep finding drawings and journal pages tucked in the corners and the bed frame, the ink already too faded to read or to even make out the art. You surmise the old resident of the cabin pushed the papers in there to stop the draft.

As you sit down on the lumpy green armchair of the library, the oil lamp illuminating the pages with only the moon as your companion; you get sucked into the yellowed pages, burrowing into every word printed, making a home for yourself in between the letters written by authors you'll never meet in your lifetime.

A soft knock brings your soul back to the old library, your eyes adjust in the darkness, his silhouette leaning casually on the doorway.

“So this is where you vanish off to every night” you can barely make out his face but you know he's smirking by the way his lip piercing glints in the lamp.

“Am I not allowed, Captain?” he chuckles. The sound reverberated around the room. A ghost of a smile passes by your lips.

“Keep callin' me like that and you might find yourself having special treatment.”

“And what exactly is the special treatment?”

Hobie shrugs, raising a finger up as he lists them down. “Havin' your own cabin, getting fed twice in a day, access to the ship's library, did I mention staying dry and alive?”

“You've mentioned it once or twice.” You sigh, gathering courage for what you're about to ask. “I've got a question, Cap.”

Hobie scoffs, “Heard you've been asking those a lot. One of these days your curious arse will get you killed.” You shrug, ignoring his comment. “You know I'd hunt you down if any of this information gets to the navy right?”

“I know, and I'm not a fucking snitch especially after you've kept your word of letting me stay even though you did use me as bait when you were interrogating the navy man.”

“Come off it,” he clicks his tongue. “I did not use you as bait.”

“Sure, and you don't have trust issues, Hobie Brown”

“Likewise, Y/N asshole.” he enters the room and into the light. You don't miss his snarky nickname for you. “Can a person with trust issues do this?” Hobie tosses a bag right on your lap.

You recognize the satchel, blinking in surprise “My bag!” You scan the contents down to the small bag of coins finding everything is still in its place. “Did you happen to see a necklace? It has a circular pendant with a bird engraved on it.”

“No, it doesn't ring a bell. Trust me somethin’ like that would've left a mark.”

You frown, hope diminished. Hobie gestures towards the seat in front of you, asking permission. You nod, letting him in your personal bubble.

“What are you reading?” He sits across from you on the rickety rocking chair, groaning, knees cracking.

“Just a story about some Greek hero that my m– I used to read back then.”

He nods, not mentioning the blunder. “I don't think Theseus is just some bloke.” You chuckle softly. “Y’know there's a much better read than that over…” he twists around, taking a book right behind him. “Here” he hands it off to you, calloused fingers grazing yours.

Turning the small book around, you shake your head with a subtle smile. “‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ Very funny”

Hobie stifles a laugh, a genuine smile across his face. “Thought it was appropriate.” he crosses a leg over the other, shoulders relaxed.

“What was your question, scuttlebutt? Ask me before I change my mind, ‘m feeling generous today.”

Your hands play with the spine of the old book. “Why haven't you killed me yet? After what George said, why didn't you believe him that I'm a traitor?”

He visibly stiffened, “You can't be called a traitor if you were never part of the crew, eh?” your heart thumps louder as he observes your every move.

“Also that's two questions,” the moonlight hits his fatigued face, you stare into those eyes that threaten to bring you under, but you swim out just in time before it drags you down. “good thing they have the same answers.”

You blink slowly, fingers nervously pick at the dry skin on your thumb.

“Your rucksack,” he points with chin. “I didn't pay enough attention to it when you first arrived but when I had my suspicions I had to check. First the coins or the lack thereof. If you were a navy spy they'd give you enough to use it as a bargaining tool.”

“You calling me poor?”

“Yes” he doesn't miss a beat. “Second your shoes, the bloody thing is thinner than Finn's flat bread.” you suck in your teeth in annoyance. “And that–” he leans closer, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Your fuckin' attitude, you didn't even try to play nice. You just did what you were told so you could survive. The only time you're actually nice is when nobody else is lookin'” you scoff while he continues on.

“Don't think I didn't notice you during the funeral or whenever you give Pav and Miles their tea. You stay along the edges of the crew, lingering, not really looking for any approval. But you're there, acting like you don't care but based on the careful stitches and gentle hands, you care, a lot.”

You grit your teeth, letting him read you like an open book that you've kept hidden behind the shelves, under all the more interesting books.

“Spies ease their way into the crew with effort, you did it unintentionally. You didn't hesitate saving Gwen, you could've done anything else in an attempt to escape but you helped and you stayed. You're not a spy, I think you just want to belong somewhere—”

You cut him off, “What makes you think I want to join your rag tag group?”

Hobie looks like he's about to swallow you whole, ignoring your last snarky comment, he continues his rant. “You want to belong even if it’s on a damn pirate ship. You're a genuine stowaway.”

“Alright, you're quite perceptive then, but that doesn't answer my question on why you haven't killed me yet.” you bravely face him. “You said it yourself, you would kill me if any information about you and the crew comes out from me. And you told me I needed the coin so what's stopping me from going to the nearby governor and selling off the information the moment we land?”

“Because you're running too,” his eyes shine in the low light, looking at you mischievously. “I don't know from whom or if you're wanted like us but I do know you're not gonna risk your freedom for a few coins.”

Hobie beams at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And lastly, I'm gonna need you before I let you go.”

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 17. Blood and Flesh.

CW: TW! Recurrent pregnancy loss. TW!Abortion. TW!Bleeding

Maddie: Jack, we need to talk. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I think Phantom, the ghost boy, is actually our son. And I’m sure Danny and Jazz know about it too.

What if we bring down on the Fentons the knowledge that they have ghost children without revealing Phantom’s identity?

Text+Chat+Memes=Prompt:

Of course Maddie wanted to have children. But…Not in college. She felt it was too soon. The lack of stable earnings and time were not conditions for growing a new person. She had nothing to give this potential child. Maddie did not hesitate long before deciding to have an abortion.

And for years, neither Jack nor Maddie have thought about this unplanned pregnancy.

Ectoplasm is toxic, obviously. But since ectology was only recently recognized by the scientific community, no one has ever fully analysed the effects of ectoplasm on the body.

When Maddie and Jack had the misfortune to become one of those couples experiencing recurrent pregnancy loss, they immediately suspected that the ectoplasm in their lab contributed to their reproductive difficulty. Put simply, death didn’t go with life.

They may not always have followed the lab’s safety rules perfectly, but is that why one of their first works will be exposing a teratogenic effect of ectoplasm? What if they’ve lost their only chance to be biological parents?

What a cruel price to pay for the work of life. Jack and Maddie so dreamed of their little happiness. Do they have to forget about it?

No, the Fentons don’t give up that easily!

They may have to spend a few years doing only theoretical work, but they’ll try again.

~~~~~

Ectoplasm is toxic. Tests, hopes…and a few miscarriages too.

Jazz was a miracle. Fenton family literally didn’t get out of hospitals to look after her health.

Danny was an even bigger miracle, because they didn’t have any hope of having a second child. Maddie and Jack didn’t even plan this pregnancy. Danny was born premature, with signs of hypoxia... but alive. His potential twin was not so lucky. Single intrauterine fetal death (sIUFD).

Right. Death still followed them. Of course, parents didn’t tell Jazz and Danny that they might have had another brother. It was their grief. Children had no reason to know about it.

~~~~~

"You filthy ghost!" Maddie stopped to rest after a chase for elder Phantom.

"Exhausted?" Dan was flying at a safe distance from her. "Maybe it’s time to retire, Maddie? A little exercise never stopped you before." The ghost was clearly making fun of her.

"Not going to happen, I’ll do it until I die if Amity Park need it. And my son will be here to stop you instead of me after me or Jack."

The smile on Ghost’s face faded immediately. "I hope he die first." The ghost whispered in a hoarse voice."It's best for everyone."

"What did you say?" Maddie rose up in anger, pointing her weapon at it.

"Has any thought crossed your mind about what happens to your children if anything happens to you? Go out every day and yell like idiots, attracting all the ghosts around." An ectoblast is blowing right up against her temple and crashing into the wall. The ghost frowned and turned away. "Did you ever think that Danny wouldn’t want to live without you? Did you think that he would be hurt if he had to lose you? No! Is it always about your stupid desires and ambitions, Mom."

For a moment Maddie thought he it was looking at her like it had seen a ghost, which was obviously just ridiculous. Maddie wanted to laugh about it, but somehow she couldn’t. Why would the ghost trying to fake human emotion care to hide the tears that gather in the corners of its eyes?

Maddie tried to get it out of her head. Anyway, it’s not that important. Phantoms have always been atypical. She’ll come home, take a warm shower, and tell Danny how much she loves him.

~~~~~

Maddie: My son is a strong boy and Dan: He’s weak! He’s a freak! He can’t handle it, Mom!

Maddie had long pondered this theory since the day Jack admitted that Phantom had misspoke during the fight and called him his father but she had never experienced it before. Or maybe she wasn’t paying attention.

Maddie: Hey, Phantom, just a question, how old are you? Dan: Why are you changing the subject? Twenty-four, twenty-five… Hell, I don’t remember. Stopped counting after 17, nobody cares anyway. And her first months dating Jack were 24 years ago. Right. The eyebrows, the shape of eyes and the height is all from Jack. The waist and the side eye from her. Theoretically. Still need more proof.

~~~~~~

Dan: Is this all your frail human form can do?

Maddie walked past the Casper High playground when she saw a ghost flying around. It was one of the new ones. The Phantom’s full-grown specimen. More dangerous. And totally unpredictable. Maddie squeezed the gun harder. Her theories are just theories and she can’t have such a dangerous spirit near the school, near her children.

Danny: Shut up and give me my bottle of water, asshole.

This voice. Maddie stopped in shock. What’s her boy doing so close to a ghost? He’s always so terrified of them.

Dan: No pull-ups, no water. You need muscles. Without them you’re gonna look like a worm if you’re gonna grow up to be taller than Jack as I am.

Danny: Just so you know, you’re a terrible big brother and I hate you.

Dan: Well, that just means I’m doing a good job.

Danny: When Mom asks who destroyed the furniture in Vlad’s house I’m pointing at you. A little run around town will be good for you. And as they say, Older siblings are like your parents' personal science fair. They're a bunch of experiments.

Dan: ...Just so you know, it sounded completely insane. Terrible. Good job, but don’t go near Dani with those jokes. Jazz will kill us both for setting a bad example. Danny: Bad example? Since when has a good sense of humor become a bad example? Dan: Shut up. Drink water and go to the shower. Jazz is gonna kick my ass if you die of overheating.

Danny: Huh, afraid of one know-it-all? When dad chased you with a bazooka, you didn’t seem scared.

Dan: Сome on, dad has a lot of strengths, yeah, but the ability to aim isn't one of them. And not

Dani: driving a car?

Danny: Right. Wait, how long have you been eavesdropping? Dani: Long enough to blackmail you both. Сomputer’s mine for the rest of the week. Dan and Danny: Shit.

~~~~~

The Invisobill. or Phantom. Ha. Danny Fenton…Danny Phantom. Weston boy said crazy things. Yeah. But what if he was only partially wrong? Everything except the color of its eyes and hair is so much like Danny's. If this were typical manipulation from a ghost hoping to shake the desire of ghost hunters to chase a creature similar to their child, he would have had to give it up months ago. But phantom did not change his disguise. This is his true form. What about ghost girl and older ghost? They are also so young.

Maddie could not sleep. In her head struggled scientist and woman weighed down by feelings of guilt and shame. She was tormented by philosophical problems and religious issues. No, Maddie, not even a neural tube is formed at that time. It was just a collection of cells. It’s not a person. It doesn’t feel pain. And ghosts do not too. Right? Is it even acceptable to compare such things? Is it possible that a ghost is not the remnant of negative human emotions and memories? What is responsible for its formation then? What is the purpose of such a ghost? And more importantly, how long have these ghosts been near and they did not notice? Has the portal become a source of energy necessary for their existence in the physical plane? Or is it only they who have not seen them?

So painful. It’s so unpleasant to think about what monsters they look like to their dear Danny and Jazz. Ghosts or not, she threatened creatures who might have been part of their family in front of her babies. God, naive teens must think that three Phantoms are their siblings or something. Of course! That explains the disappearance of fenton thermos and the way the Phantoms sneak into the portal and Danny’s always somewhere in trouble and…Oh my God, they could be in so much danger! How long has this been going on? No, the real question is..Hm, if this is going on for so long, why haven’t the ghosts done anything…evil? If their nature is in the destruction then why didn’t anything happen? Jack and she would never have missed something that would hurt their children.

~~~~~~

The fight between the Skulker and Invisobill was particularly fierce this time. Maddie was unlucky to be in one of the damaged buildings. But who is she if not a scientist? She will find a way to benefit in such a situation.

Unnecessary risk, completely unprofessional. But… The debris of the wall does not lie on her very tightly and the weapon still with Maddie. Yeah. She has to test her theory. She has to. She can get up and leave if she needs to. Right? A little dizziness never killed anyone. She just feels cold and sounds are strange. Maddie: Help. Help! Someone! M-Maddie? An insecure voice with an echo sounds. Yes, it's near. Maddie: Help! I can’t.. I can’t get up. T-Hard to breathe. Danny: Mum! Mama, hold on, I’m coming.

Phantom checks her pupillary reflex. Who taught him that? Jazz? The touch of his hand, so cold and shaky. Now Maddie really doesn't feel so good. It’s good that the ghost is her boy. She doesn’t have to worry about anything happening to people around. Neither he nor Danny know how to lie. She can breathe. Just cover her eyes for a moment and… Just a few seconds. Phantom:Jazz, Jazz! Call an ambulance. I don’t know what to do. I..I can’t just make mum intangible. What if she has a crush syndrome and I make it worse or… Her boy. Why is Danny so scared? Danny: Tucker, she is bleeding and she’s not responding to me and… Sshh, my little star, is all right. Mom just needs to lie down and rest a little.

~~~~~~

Maddie could not believe that she had actually passed out. But the time spent in the hospital gave her enough time to think about everything.

Maddie: Jack, we need to talk. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I think Phantom, the ghost boy, is actually our son. And I’m sure Danny and Jazz know about it too.

Jack: Honey, are you sure we don’t need to double-check if you have a concussion?

~~~~~~

Maddie and Jack decide to watch surveillance videos for the first time. After all, it concerns the safety of their children, they have the right to know what happens in the house in their absence. Especially when the ghosts are nearby. Children *live in their own sitcom*:

They have seen enough. Maddie decides to check chats on Jazz’s phone. It’s for their safety, only. She’s a good mother but what if the ghosts are up to something?

The chat was so..Teenage? And Chaotic. Normal? No, definitely not. How many times have they punished Danny unfairly? Did Jazz learn to lie and they didn’t even notice? And what the hell, why were they joking about dissection. It’s just awful. They need to talk immediately. No, it will look suspicious. They need to try to make contact with ghosts. And then they’ll all be grounded. All five.

Oh, and she thought two kids were a lot of work. How are they gonna handle three more with the bizarre biology ectology? Do they have hobbies, interests? They are definitely more complicated than theblob-ghosts. Was she wrong? Do they have emotions, a need for socialization? Can she trust her emotions in this matter?

~~~~Bonus~~~~

"What the hell happened to freak’s neck?!"

Danny: Um, excuse me, ma'am, he’s been doing Hatha yoga in India for years. Practice opens up amazing flexibility in the joints! Right, brother?

Dan: Fuck off.

Ma'am: Don’t take me for an idiot! What about his skin color then? Jack: You have something against my son’s tan? Dan: I told you going shopping with me was a bad idea. Dani: If you didn’t scare everyone around, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Dan:...I didn’t even try to do it this time. Why is she meddling?!

~~~Bonus~~~~

Dan: Why am I only third? Dani: Because I have successfully stabbed Danny in the back when he did not expect it. With you he is always waiting for a trick. This makes me much more successful than you :)

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 1 - "Help me."

| Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

Catching up on June of Doom as much as I can haha. Next one I think I'll do is CCE, but for now, here's some Rowan/Sawyer content.

Sorry it's shorter than most of my works, haven't been feeling too motivated but I've been forcing myself to get there haha.

CW: Implied drugging, failed escape, intimate/yandere whumper, implied trauma, noncon touching (not sexual), concussions, slight gore

...

It had been three months since Sawyer managed to escape from Rowan. Those three months felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, yet was still somehow more stressful than being in his kidnapper's grasp. He was glad to have freedom again, but terrified every time he went outside. Hell, even when he was inside his shitty motel room he was scared that Rowan would be somehow in his walls.

The fear made it so difficult to do things as simple as getting groceries and going to the laundromat.

There were so many people outside, everywhere. Rowan could blend in with them no problem, and then get Sawyer alone and take him back to his own personal hell.

But... there had been no signs of Rowan ever since Sawyer got out. There hadn't been any flowers on his doorstep, no messages on his phone, no emails to his old Indigo work account.

That was probably because Rowan had no idea where he was (hopefully) and Sawyer was now confined to using a cheap flip phone instead of his smartphone that Rowan had broke.

Sawyer tried not to think about Rowan. He tried to focus on the here and now, and the here and now was buying a few bags of chips at the gas station.

He did his best not to look over his shoulder the entire time he shopped. Every little sound made him jump. People chatting quietly with each other. The cashier running change for another customer. Someone opening the glass freezer door across the room.

Fuck, everything freaked him out nowadays. But he needed to get groceries sooner rather than later. His room had only a microwave and a mini fridge in it, so if he didn't want to go hungry tonight he needed food. He wanted nothing more than to buy a pack of cigarettes, but he couldn't even do that with his little money and lack of ID.

He set down the items he bought onto the counter and waited for the cashier to ring him up. Each moment felt like an hour.

"That'll be $8.36."

"Thanks," Sawyer said, fishing through his pockets. He took out some crumbled bills and counted them out, then dropped the money into the man's open palm. "Keep the change." He needed the money, but he also needed to get out of here asap.

The cashier thanked him. As soon as Sawyer got his change back he left. He went outside with his bagged goods, thankful for the cool breeze outside.

It was already dark outside and he only had the light of the streetlamps to guide him back to his motel room.

It was cold tonight, almost freezing. He should've gotten a jacket from the store, but he'd be fine without one. If he froze to death that would be preferable to going back to Rowan.

Breathing in the crisp air helped him feel a little better, less like he was suffocating under the stress of being outside. At this rate, he was going outside even less than when he was in captivity.

He thought a car was about to pass him, but when it started to slow down by the curb Sawyer's heart nearly stopped.

The car... looked exactly like Rowan's.

Rowan had found him.

No no no no no no no no no no no...

His blood turned to ice and his stomach twisted into knots. All he could manage to do was take a few steps back, dropping his bags of food. The car door opened, and out stepped Rowan. His hair was messier than usual and he wore all black clothing, which was a stark contrast to the cozy wool sweaters and dress shirts that Sawyer was used to seeing him in.

Sawyer didn't waste a second on standing around in shock. He immediately bolted off running in the alleyway right behind him. His lungs were already burning but he couldn't let that stop him. He could hear Rowan call his name from far behind, echoing off the walls.

"Help me!" Sawyer shrieked, running faster than he ever had before. "Someone help me, please! Help-!"

His words were cut short when he ran face first into a brick wall. He blamed the poor lighting for his misstep, and the throbbing pain in his head kept him from getting up as fast as he wanted to.

Rowan slowed down. He was cornered, so he curled up into a ball in an attempt to make himself seem smaller. Maybe it would work. Maybe if he tried hard enough he would just disappear.

"Sawyer," Rowan breathed out, clearly exhausted. Sawyer wasn't sure what happened between the kidnapping and now, but it looked like he had gone through some shit too.

But whatever happened to him wasn't Sawyer's concern. This was his kidnapper, his tormentor, the man who abused him for months. He wasn't going to pity him.

Rowan collapsed on his knees, then pulled Sawyer close to him. It felt strange being so close to someone again; it made Sawyer feel dirty.

Even with the awkward position, Rowan was so much stronger than Sawyer. There was no way he was breaking free of his grip any time soon.

"I missed you so much..." Rowan muttered against Sawyer's hair, squeezing him tighter. "So so so much." His hot breath made Sawyer turn his face away. He was desperate to escape this, any of it. Rowan flashed a knife in his direction, and that was all it took for Sawyer to stop squirming.

The last thing he needed was another injury from his deranged stalker.

Rowan tutted, examining the side of his head with his free hand. "Oh, poor thing. I bet that hurt. But don't worry," he cooed, kissing his forehead. "I'm going to take care of you. That's why you did all of this right? You just wanted me to pay more attention to you." A dark chuckle escaped his throat. "Well, you'll get it, don't you worry."

Next thing Sawyer knew, Rowan had tucked the knife away somewhere in his coat, then forced him to his feet.

Sawyer was sure he was concussed and most likely had a broken nose, so his balance was compromised. But as always, Rowan managed to keep him upright.

He steered them out of the alley and to his car. He contemplated putting him in the trunk, but settled for the backseat instead, since it looked like his beloved wouldn't be awake for much longer.

"You can relax, my dear." Rowan kissed his bloody nose. Sawyer didn't even have the awareness to be disgusted. "Since the typical punishments aren't working on you, I think I've worked up a new solution. You're not allergic to ketamine, are you?"

[yell0wsalt]

Fic: Under the Stars

For @meljaymicrofics Day 5 Hand Over Hand by Roland Faunte

Rating: G

Relationships: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda

cw: mentions of canonical character death (Jayce and Ambessa)

Summary: May the sun find rest under the cover of the stars

word count: 653

The servants of the Medarda house hadn’t thought much of it when Mel requested a skylight be built in her bedroom. After all, what she wanted, she got. Admittedly there were a few reservations for the light being a potential disruptor to her rest, but as excellent as she was with her words, Mel was able to assuage any vocalized concerns.

So they got to work. Pulling all the necessary resources together, they were able to fulfill Mel;’s request in a little over a week. 

Mell was quite franklly pleased with their efforts.

Those of the Medarda house, just as much, albeit for other reasons.

It was the weeks and months before, they were conscientious enough to detect a palpable shift in the air that flowed through the Medarda House. The reasoning and distinct feeling, however, couldn’t be properly summarized in simple words.. 

Ambessa was a woman who led Noxus with an iron fist, so following her death– and at Mel’s hands, no less– there was an odd sense of grief and internal conflict storming. Those who aligned with the Medarda House were conflicted on future alliances and their individually staggered emotional stages of despair and betrayal.

What did the awakening of Mel’s magic within her mean for them? What would be Mel’s responsibilities to Piltover and Noxus, if any? 

All these questions and more bubbled up to kiss the surface of her servants’s tongues. Though they never popped, forcibly choked down as words unsaid.

Mel didn’t provide any updates regarding these matters on her end or anything of the like. Quietly she spent her days moseying through the halls of the Medarda House and Piltover Tower, hardly a shell of her former being.

So when she incited the order to put in a skylight in her bedroom of all places, there was an odd sense of quiet relief, this being one of the first orders issued to her attendants in weeks.

And steadily over time, she began to come back to herself. Well, more of herself than anyone under the Medarda House has found in weeks.

A more regular level of color returned to her face, a brightness to her eyes, and she could almost smile when her people communicated with her.

Frankly they would take it, holding onto a certain level of hope that she would be okay. That they all would be okay. 

“Goodnight Miss Medarda.” One of her attendants, Julia called to Mel in the middle of her nightly rounds.

Mel nodded politely. “And goodnight to you, too. Try not to work too hard.”

Julia faintly smiled. “You can always let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” she confirmed before closing her bedroom door to retire for the night. It was a beautiful night out this evening that even with the new moon, the light from the stars shone remarkably through over her bed. Slipping underneath the covers, Mel pulled one of her large pillows to her center, essentially curling into a fetal position about it. 

With the stars light shining as so, Mel’s mind could wander to easy dreams.

Of the warmth radiating from a certain someone’s large and calloused hands as they delicately covered hers.

Of the lips that used to tenderly kiss her wrists and other special places.

Of the man that loved to sandwich his head between her lap and one of her hands that raked his thick hair mindlessly in day to day conversations.

Of the Golden Boy who once captured not only the hearts of many, but ultimately hers first and foremost.

The man who she would seek out in a sea of people. His beautifully golden gaze that kept her from drowning. 

Of Jayce.

Warmth built under the covers, Mel could eventually rest. 

Sooner or later the morning would come, it always did. For now, though, Mel would accept the warmth she found under the covers. Under the stars.

[izvmimi]

cw: bodily injury. depression. violence. vengeance themes.

You kneel, shoulders hunched over your toilet bowl, the sour taste of stomach acid still lingering on your tongue. Despite the minutes of retching that felt like hours, you have yet to stop shaking, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. It's the third time you've woken up screaming in the past couple of days, and you are afraid to stand up, save you catch a glimpse of your own still swollen and battered face in the mirror and lurch anew.

You can't go on like this.

Legs semisolid and cold like refrigerated Jell-O, you clamber up to your feet. Now that your nausea has abated for a moment, you might as well attempt to go back to sleep. Unlikely, but you can still dream.

Your one-bedroom apartment is frigid in the wee hours of the morning. Shivering, you limp back to bed and curl into fetal position under paper-thin sheets. If you sleep with anything heavier, you panic and feel as though you are suffocating; any less covered, and you feel insecure and naked, like someone could snatch you away at any second. Again.

Izuku had warned you early on that you could be a target at any time, and it had explained his cautious, slightly-too-tight hold on you always, but the optimistic part of you had always tried to encourage him to trust the safeguards he put in place for you. You'd convinced him that you were strong, and that you were careful, and you'd be fine. Once he'd promised you and himself that he could protect you, always, you'd both breathed out in relief.

Things would be fine, you told yourselves.

This, however - this, you hadn't been quite prepared for. Getting lifted on your way back from your job, drugged and thrown in the back of an unmarked vehicle, and waking up bound and gagged staring into masked faces with unconcealed, greedy smiles, had never been part of your life's plan.

He'd promised to protect you.

Where was he now?

Every bone in your body felt splintered, and every muscle in your body sore. It's still hard to breathe, and it is a miracle that you can still move. Your assailants, whoever they were, had said they were just “sending a message”, which is presumably why they’d let you live. Once they had finished torturing you, they’d tossed you in the back of an alleyway like Saturday’s trash. You dragged yourself home, monitoring the bruises that bloomed darkly on your face for anything suspicious enough to suggest head trauma. Anything short of those signs and you wouldn’t go to the hospital. There was nothing you’d be able to explain to the doctors anyway and the idea of being proven wrong felt too much to bear. Plus you're too afraid to leave your house anyway.

All you can think about is the strength of the deadbolt on your door, and whether the door is even locked or not, but you feel too drained of energy to get up and check it for the fifth time today. It was an incredible thing to be so weak and yet so emotionally activated. You wonder if this was what it was like to be prey, finally terminally exhausted by your predator’s chase and laying down to accept death.

A tear, maybe a couple, maybe several, escape your eyes before you finally drift off to sleep.

---

The next morning, you wake up encased in warm, strong arms. Your body kicks into sympathetic overdrive and you shriek, kicking and screaming as the embrace only grows tighter.

“___, it’s me! Babe, calm down, listen...  Breathe, baby..." He calls your name again, whispering it softly. "It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Izuku's voice despite attempting to be soothing is as alarmed as you are as he pleads for you to calm down. Once you stop fighting him and start crying softly instead, he nuzzles his chin into your neck, whispering kind, reassuring statements in your ear in between gentle kisses.

“I’m here… I’m here… I’m sorry, but I’m here now, babe. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” He repeats over and over again. You are still sobbing uncontrollably, but now you have shifted, and your hands cling to the fabric of his shirt. His scent is familiar and safe, and you're at home as you cry into his chest. You don't think of the fact that he's back in Tokyo earlier than he should be or wonder how he has entered your home as much as you had deadbolted the door and barricaded it with all your furniture. You can’t exactly describe how you feel; it isn't relief or reassurance that he brings, but a validation of what you had been through.

You don’t remember how long you stay in his embrace like this, but it feels like forever. 

Izuku doesn't ask immediately who hurt you. Instead, once you’d stabilized enough for him to release you, he finds a comforter to wrap around your body, quickly passing his eyes over the length of it, taking in the extent of your injuries. This time, the pressure wasn’t too much for you. You sit still, your body numb, staring into nothingness. He disappears for a moment, and when he returns, he's carrying a bowl of soup which he feeds you wordlessly. You don't look at him as you open your mouth every so slightly.

It's too quiet in your apartment. Your mind races but with no thoughts.

Izuku sets down the spoon once you stop accepting it. 

“___."

Your eyes focus in his direction. The worry is gone from his face, and now a chilling calm has taken its place.

"Do you remember what they looked like?"

His voice has the type of evenness to it that seems contradictorily off-kilter.

You don’t respond. He doesn't press you. Instead, he spends the rest of the day with you, watching you carefully. Every time he sees you wince as you move, you can see his fists clench and unclench.

There's somewhere he has to be, you think. Then you say it out loud.

"Izuku, you don't have to watch me like a hawk. I'm fine. I've been fine for the past few days."

You're lying and you can tell he's upset that you are from the look on his face. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and a muscle in his jaw tense.

"You don't look fine," he mutters. "Why didn't you go to a hospital?"

"Didn't want to."

The answer is couldn't.

He gives you a long look, but he doesn't press it.

----

Once night has fallen, he has had enough of seeing you suffer. A few phone calls are made in hushed tones on the balcony. You try not to listen in, but he's talking to the police department, then other heroes. Gathering information. Someone says something that causes him to snort from his nostrils, but then you can feel it, the little static in the air that betrays the use of his Quirk, small electrical discharges flowing from his fingertips.

Izuku returns from the balcony and slides the glass door. You look at him and blink, wondering if he'll tell you anything. He smiles at you, but it looks somewhat pained.

“I’ll be back.” He reassures, kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll right this.”

Your eyes widen. You don't want Izuku to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to form the words to tell him to stay.

Or even to ask 'how'?

Despite the fact that he leaves, you finally fall asleep, exhaustion overcoming you faster now that you've had even a second of relief from stress. You're not exactly sure how long he's gone this time, but you bolt awake when you hear the doorknob turn yet again, your heart thumping hard in your chest.

The first thing you note is the thick, unmistakable coppery smell of blood permeating the room, enough that your stomach turns.

You can't see Izuku well enough in the dark aside from his green eyes that glow ever so slightly, and the ever-persisting static from his twitching fingertips, barely perceptible.

"Izuku?" you ask. He looks almost forlornly at you, then disappears into the shower.

He's in there for nearly an hour.

Once Izuku steps out, once he's done washing himself free of dirt and grime and blood and whatever else, he curls up next to you, anchoring his arm against your waist. You are facing away from him, and your heart still beats terribly fast in your chest, and you can't bring yourself to tell him how much him touching you makes the pain in your chest worse.

Clothing soaked in red rests on your bathroom tile. Your love will never be squeaky clean again, no matter how wholesome his image is.

He doesn't have to tell you what he did, but you know.

“I love you, ___. I’ll never let someone hurt you again.”

You nod understanding, but you wish you didn't know.

[lvrcpid]

DEPENDABLE - so long, farewell.

cw // NETEYAM’S DEATH. I AM SO SORRY. i literally cried writing this dw i’ll come with family fluff after this.

ney’ite watched as her brothers body was floated across the sea, the fetal position his lifeless body was laid in made her shiver. the white paint on her face almost felt..taunting. ney’ite closed her eyes as the body floated past her, taking a hold of the leaf and making her way over to her parents. as the eldest, jake and neytiri wanted ney’ite to help them give his body to the sea.

ney’ite looked back to her younger siblings, giving them a curt nod. ‘stay strong’ she mouthed before everyone turned to face the bottom of the ocean, ney’ite taking neteyams body into her arms before looking to her parents, nodding before setting his body out, keeping a hand under him as her parents joined.

the trio swam to the bottom of the ocean, letting go of his body when it hit the sea anemone. ney’ite watched as the sea engulfed her younger brother, biting back tears and swimming to the top. once they all reached the surface, ney’ite walked over to ronal and tonowari. “thank you..” she spoke softly, tears pricking her eyes.

the walk back was quiet. nobody spoke a word. only the sound of the waves and small sniffles coming from each family member rang out. “i’ll put tuk to bed” ney’ite sighed, picking up her crying little sister. jake looked over at his daughter, sadness painted across his face. with a nod he patted her back and let her go.

it took a while to get tuk to bed, her crying growing louder and louder and she was truly inconsolable. after getting her down, she noticed all of her other siblings were asleep, her parents comforting eachother. she walked over to them and looked down at the pair, a sad smile across her lips.

she snuggled between her parents and suddenly felt a wave of emotions hit her. all of the anger, the pain, the grief, the regret, it all hit her at once and in an instant, ney’ite came crashing down, curling herself into a ball as she burst into tears against her parents, tears rolling down her face and onto her fathers chest as he tried his best to calm his daughter and his mate, while also trying to keep it together.

it was a few hours later when ney’ite got up and took a small walk, needing fresh air and room to breathe. her parents were weary about letting her go. “i’ll be okay..” she spoke, voice horse. she then set off , stumbling upon the tree of souls.

with a fragile heart and mind, ney’ite hesitantly took her queue and entangled it with the tree, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

“ite did you see! i got one on my first try!” ney’ite met eyes with her baby brother, he had to at least be around 5 years old. his innocent state brought her to tears. she remembers this. he had caught his first fish.

in the blink of an eye, neteyam was 15, holding out the necklace to his sister “i made it just for you!” without realizing, ney’ite was crying. seeing her brothers smiling face was enough to make her turn away from him, letting out a sob before falling to her knees , leaning into her brothers arms as he snaked his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “is there something wrong? do you not like it?” ney’ite turned around to see her brothers face, sighing as she cupped one of his cheeks “i love it nete..im just so happy to see you..” she smiled. neteyam let a warm smile peek across his face. “i’m happy to see you too!”

after a few more memories, ney’ite had to leave, wiping her tears as she watched her 5 year old brother chase around a bird that flew in their home. she smiled sadly before whispering;

“so long, farewell little brother.”

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumptember Day 27

27. "Don't forget about me, alright?" packed bag | leaving home | secret destination Alt. Prompt 6: Curled into a ball

A/N: Ren previously appeared here and here.

CW: emotional whump, guilt, implied character death

Ren sat curled up on the floor of the shared bathroom under the cold fluorescent lights. How long he’d been sitting there, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. He couldn’t move anyway, under the smothering weight pressing down on him.

Useless. You’re completely useless. You can’t save anyone.

The voice in his head was silent for now, the voice that told him to do things, hurt people. The voice that controlled him. But another voice had taken its place, one equally merciless and just as much a part of him.

You’re just a weapon. Nothing more.

He hugged his knees tighter, digging his nails into his own skin.

You couldn’t save them. Not Jude, not Cassidy, no one. The only thing you’re good for is destruction.

Tears pricked at his eyes. He wrestled them back, cursing himself, ashamed even though he was completely alone.

Weapons don’t cry.

His cheek touched the cold tile as he let himself slump to the side, still curled in a fetal position. The sensation shocked him just a little, enough to clear his head for a second.

But I'm still a human. And they still believe in me.

@whumptember

[whumpkink]

June of Doom 2024 - Day 01. Fetal Position

Masterlist | Series: A Coven's Violence | CW: post-mission, blood (not whumpee's blood) | (yes, I'm being liberal about the poisoning prompt)

Mackenzie watched and felt as her body methodically took off the uniform, stacked it in a pile with the pieces of clothes folded in near squares, the boots under the bed. She walked into the bathroom and took a quick yet efficient shower, ice cold water that turned pink-ish as she scrubbed blood off her hands, her face and her hair.

Body sore, freezing cold. For once, Mackenzie was glad to not be in control all the time.

Mackenzie slipped into control again once she was at the door of her bedroom. Her fingers shook as she twisted the doorknob. Her skin felt ice cold and the ice dug into her bones. And she still could feel the slippery sensation of blood on her hands, blood covering her face, the taste of blood that wasn't her own.

She crawled under her blankets, shivering and curling in a fetal position under it.

The feeling of murdering someone so violently felt like poison crawling into her from the palms of her hands, carving a burning path into her heart. The guilt tasted like blood and death. She didn't have the energy to crawl out of the bed to grab the bottle of strong, illegal alcohol hidden behind the closet.

Mackenzie didn't have the energy to even cry.

[wardenswateringhole]

Reclamation - Chapter 1

CW

-death mention

Cut for length. Enjoy.

Keys twirled around Emmet’s finger as he walked toward his home. His mind sorted through several different lists in his head. All the paper work done? Check. Trains checked and secured? Check. Depot Agents debriefed and schedules made? Check.

When one list finished another began. Was the new hire squared away? Did they receive their required employee materials? Was their uniform going to be available on their first day? Yes, yes and Yes.

Did he need to go shopping? Milk and eggs were stocked. Maybe he should pick up some soda? No. Not this time. Did he need more batteries for the joltiks? Battery supplies were holding for now. Could pick up extra treats tomorrow. The team were doing an extra good job on the battle line. They deserved it.

Next list was ready. Could they do better? What strategies felt fun and new? Were they getting stale? Maybe it was time for a change. Would that bring more challengers? More challengers would be nice. Challenger numbers felt too low…

When was that meeting again? It’s written down somewhere. What was it about? Challenger numbers being too low. Share holders had a problem with that? Not sure why. Things were just fine.

There was no need to worry. None at all.

Emmets mental rambling came to a halt as the key jingled and the door to his home opened. A white coat and hat were hung with care and shoes were slipped off and place by the door. The tune of an overly energetic children’s show could be heard playing on a television deeper into the abode. The smell of spices and warm food wafted through the air pairing logically with the sounds of sizzling and chopping coming from the kitchen. “I’m home!” Emmet voice rang out through it all. An instant response of happy giggling and the sound of small footsteps rushing toward his location could be heard. Two young boys came around the corner, their faces bright and excited to see him. He made to kneel in greeting them before he noticed one was traveling far faster than the other. Emmet tried to stop the inevitable. “Emery! Wait! Brake--!” Emery lost his footing almost as soon as the words left Emmet’s mouth. The other boy watched on as Emery barreled straight into Emmet’s crotch, causing the tall man to crumple like paper. Emmet’s form flopped to the floor, curled in the fetal position and desperately pulling air into his lungs as the pain blurred his vision. He only vaguely made out the two silver headed forms standing over him. A small voice reached his ears through the blood roaring in them. “Sorry, Dad…” A third taller figure soon appeared. They waved the children away and leaned down to Emmet. Soon Emmet was being led to a sofa in the living room by the dark-haired figure. They were much shorter than him but still managed to support his weight. The smell of food clung to them. As he stretched out on the sofa, the children reappear carrying an icepack. She gently chided the rambunctious boy. “Emery, what have we said about slowing down and watching our step?” “Speed, not haste, Momma.” “That’s right.” Emmet’s voice croaked out. “Please drive more safely in the future…”

The boy nodded sullenly. Even though it was obvious he was sorry, his mouth still remained stretched in a smile. He was very much an almost exact copy of his father. The everlasting grin remaining plastered on his face through everything. The other child looked on with bright eyes and a thumb tucked firm in his mouth. He also sported the same hair and face as his brother and father. Unlike them however, his mouth stayed bowed in a frown. It usually stayed hidden behind the fist attached to the thumb he currently coveted. The boy tugged at Emery’s arm and pointed to a pile of papers and crayons in front of the TV. Emery’s face lit of instantly. “Great idea, Iggy! Let’s show dad what we made!” They scampered over and grabbed a couple of sheets before returning and holding them up proudly for Emmet to see. They were both drawings of the boys with Pokémon of various kinds riding on trains of dubious design. The one Emery held had a train that looked to have flames coming out of the smokestack, while the other looked like it shot electricity out of its wheels. “We’re gonna have a battle train just like you when we grow up! This is totally what it’s gonna look like!” Emmet raised his head and looked over the drawings with as much interest as he could muster. His voice was a bit less strained as the pain in his groin began to subside. “That’s great, boys! Yep! But which train will you two take?” The children turned the papers back toward themselves and inspected their work closely. Emery frowned as best as his face could let him. “We don’t know… Iggy says mine is better, but I like his more. We can’t decide.” “Hmm…” Emmet stared at his sons thoughtfully. He was incredibly thankful they had inherited his interest in trains. He didn’t know how he would have felt had they gained an interest in, Dragons forbid, planes. They carried a healthy interest in Pokémon as well, despite not being ready for their first Pokémon yet.

Above it all, Emmet could not get over how much the pair looked exactly like him and Ingo when they were children. Many joked that it was Emmet that truly birthed them. His wife, Lela, would vehemently disagree. No one could deny the twenty-four hours of labor she endured to bring these children in the world only for them to look nothing like her. Emmet had remained by her side the entire time, save for the time he had fainted, and the doctors had to tend to him alongside her. A bump on the elbow and an IV needle seemed trivial compared to what she had gone through and the sheer amount of joy he had felt seeing his children’s faces for the first time. Tiny, pink, and covered in tiny translucent tufts that would eventually grow to the silver locks they now sported. It didn’t feel that long ago... “Why not try to combine your designs in some way?” Emmet felt he would have been blinded had he actually seen the light bulbs flare to life in their little heads. Their eyes went wide and bright as his words. “That’s a great idea, dad! C’mon Iggy!” The other child nodded enthusiastically before they both ran off to their room with drawings in hand. Emmet chuckled weakly as Lela came to sit on the floor next to where he lay on the sofa. “Dad imparting more great wisdom?” “Yep. You know it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed as her nails grazed his scalp gently. “How are you holding up?”

Emmet’s smile flattened as his eyes drifted to a picture on the wall. It was of Ingo in his subway boss uniform, saluting the camera with his trademark frown. A black band was wrapped around the corners of the frame. Other photos sat around it in various candid moments that had been caught of the subway boss. One of him laughing at something with a cat like smile, another with cake smeared on his face most likely during a party. Another of him and Emmet in the middle of roughhousing and staring at the camera like they had been caught committing a crime. They were all cherished memories Emmet had chosen to display in tribute to his long lost brother.

“I’m holding…” He responded after a long silence. He nuzzled his face against Lela’s head. “You?”

“Same…”

Emmet sighed deeply. “Seven years today… I had actually forgotten until I saw the flowers…”

Lela looked at him in surprise. “They’re still leaving tributes to him?”

Emmet nodded. “Every year. I thought it would stop. But no. He’s still remembered.”

Emmet new full well it would continue long into the future. Every year, on this day and during their birthday, flowers and small offerings would appear around a plaque dedicated to Ingo’s memory and the tragedy that took him. It was always hard to see, a stark reminder of his other half being gone from this world. It was also comforting in a way. The world still remembered Ingo. Ingo did not leave the world without leaving his mark on it. People still celebrated the fact that he had existed in the first place. Emmet could only hope to be remembered as favorably as his brother was when his time came.

“It almost feels like Ingo is still alive…” Emmet mused. “Like he could walk through the door at any moment…”

Lela nodded. “We both loved him dearly…”

Emmet scoffed. “And that love brought us together…”

“Yeah…” Lela kissed Emmet’s forehead. He regarded her a moment. His eyes seemed to be searching for something in her face. To him, she looked as beautiful as the day he married her. Her dark hair and emerald eyes always struck him as enchanting. It bothered him slightly the boys didn’t get her eyes. Deep and lustrous. He could stare at them all day. If something didn’t seem to haunt him every time he stared into them too deeply. Though it was his own reflection, it always looked like Ingo was staring back at him.

“Is there something wrong?”

Emmet hesitated but the words fell from his mouth anyway. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

Emmet’s eyes widened slightly realizing the thought had come out his mouth instead of staying in his head where Lela couldn’t see. “Marrying me…” Emmet trailed off. “I mean… You belonged to Ingo first…”

“Emmet. We’ve been over this…” Her arms wrapped awkwardly but affectionately around his head. “Do you honestly think that I would not have taken your proposal and had your children had I not loved you?”

“Hmm… No.” Emmet replied flatly snuggling into the embrace. “It’s just… I… don’t feel I deserve this… You, the boys, this home… It feels like Ingo was cheated out of this life…”

Memories of Ingo speaking of how he had dreamed of the idyllic domestic life rose in Emmet’s head. He had caught Ingo looking at rings on his phone at one time. It had made Emmet giddy when he first realized what Ingo was planning. Now the memory made him sick to his stomach.

“We live as happily as we can in his honor…” Lela replied, trying her best to calm Emmet’s worries. “You know Ingo would be beside himself with worry if he knew we were miserable without him.”

Emmet nodded. He could not deny that Ingo was selfless to a fault. He would bend over backwards to ensure his loved ones were well and taken care of. The same conversation would most likely happen if the roles had been reversed. But they weren’t. Emmet was alive.

Ingo was not.

“You are right.” Emmet pressed his face into Lela’s shoulder. She could hear him sniffing against the fabric of her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you cooking what I think you are cooking?” His voice was muffled from his face still buried against her clothing. She laughed and pushed away from Emmet.

“Maybe. You’re just going to have to wait and find out.” She stood and smoothed her apron before looking back down at her husband. His eyes were tired.

“Why not relax before dinner? You know the boys are going to want you to play with them after eating.”

Emmet nodded as a yawn crept up almost as if on cue. Lela laughed once more and smiled sweetly at him. “I love you, Emmet.”

“I love you too, Lela.”

Lela walked away to finished dinner. Emmet made himself comfortable. His eyes drifted back to the wall dedicated to Ingo. Fate had played a cruel trick in taking Ingo away. What would Ingo think, Emmet wondered.

What would he think of his brother leading the life that was obviously meant for him?

“I wish you were here, Ingo…” Emmet muttered, closing his eyes. “I truly do.”

[stories-by-an-anxious-ice-dragon]

[Horror] Necromancer - 01

I've noticed a lot of memes saying that necromancy isn't as scary as it seems, and while I sometimes agree, I wished to try my hand at it.

CW: Gore, Bugs, Death

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

The sound of the footsteps tells you that the floor is wood, though to you, it feels like long-since-dusted stone. Or perhaps, it feels like nothing at all. Perhaps it was the mantle, upon which you’d be judged by… whoever you were meant to face after their death. 

Who… are you? It’s so hard to recall anything. There’s a buzzing noise in your head that reminds you too much of the printing machines you used to work with at Marigold’s shop, and it fills your prefrontal cortex with too much white and gray noise to focus on anything. When you do focus, the only thing that sticks out to you is the cavity in your chest, where you can feel specks of flesh dripping where your ribs should be. When you curl up, and put your head to the cavity, the smell is noxious and makes your eyes water. If you could open your eyes… would you want to know what’s happening down there?

Would you want to see the cockroaches and fat beetles skittering around inside of your stomach?

The footsteps are slow, and methodical. They arrive with the swing of a door whose hinges might not have been oiled in decades… or maybe centuries. The gust of wind causes the bugs to jump. And then the door closes. Something drags beside the footsteps, scratching and sliding over the floorboards, clinking off the nails embedded in them like it was meant to be some kind of demented musical instrument. Tapping closer and closer to the pile of grayed flesh that are your remains.

Whatever it is, it nudges you. The tip of it is glassy, and it chills your spine as it drags down it. Eventually, it forces itself into the fetal curl you’ve found yourself in, and forces you out of it. The rod gets under your chin and pushes it back, until the back of your head hits the skirting of the wall. The skirting’s just as rotted as… your stomach.

Who are you…? What are you doing here?

Wait, no… it starts to come back to you. The last moments that replayed in your mind, over and over like a broken record, before you woke up in this place. You remember the hospital bed, and the white - too white - walls all around you. You remember holding your wife’s hand, how soft and gentle it’d been, kissing her for the last time before the… doctors put you to sleep. You remember telling her that it’d be alright, that you’d always be with her.

Something of the stomach, it had been, right? You remember the pain being numb after a while… though with the way you’re feeling now, you would never guess that. You can barely feel your own heart. You don’t wanna look. You don’t wanna look. Where the hell are you?

The glass rod nudges you again. “Rise,” a voice rings through the small room. And then there’s heat, welling up inside the glass like it’s an electric stove. It seers into the dry flesh along your chin, and you open your mouth to scream, but you can’t even manage that. Just a pathetic squeak.

And then - gods, *how!?* - you sit up. As if an invisible force grabs your hind end, it drags up against the wall, much to the complaint of your insides, which drip even more sagging flesh as you lean upwards. You feel a centipede squirm up between two of your guts. The feeling is even worse when your arms push against the splintery wood, to force you as high as you can go.

Once you’re up, your torso lulls forward across your outstretched legs. Oh, you’re in it now. You can feel your cracked ribs, how a gust of air goes into your chest and whistles out the opposite side. Is it possible to want to wretch when… you aren’t sure if you have a stomach anymore?

“Come on, my thrall. I know that you can sit up better than that.” The rod is pushing at your chin again, and forces it up no matter how much your eyes and cheeks want to melt off your bones. They’re crusted up and dry, conceding to their death.

Eventually, you sit straight up, much to the dismay of your ribs. With your lips nearly stuck together, you find something creeping out of them, sneaking up a tightened throat from distended lungs. “Where… am… I…?”

“There you go. No more time to laze around, my thrall.” That voice… you’ve heard it before. It’s foggy, and snappy, but you remember it being softer than this. You remember hearing it… sometime before you made it to the hospital. “Gaze upon me.”

One of your eyes open, and that’s about all you can manage. You see the brown, dusty swirls of the room around you, and the pricks of the nails poking out of the floorboards. In the midst of it, there’s a bright red, glowing rod of glass that still threatens to seer your chin off. It shines so bright that it almost looks superimposed on top of the rest of the room, which is so dead-looking compared to it. With your pupils low and exhausted, your iris climbs the rim of the rod, up the ancient tree branch that it must have been made of, all the way to the smooth fingers gripping it at the other side.

A *staff*. That’s the word that comes to mind. You remember once reading about wizards and witches who dominated the world before the modern age, but you thought it was all… all… Christ, is any of this real? Does it really matter if any of that insane stuff is rooted in reality when you’re sitting there, feeling your guts *melted*? Feeling ants nibbling at your insides?

“I *said* to gaze upon me, thrall.” The voice snarls, and the staff gets hotter. Either as a tear, or condensation, a drop of water streams out of your crusted eye. You recognize the voice now. Oh god, you recognize it. Out of all the voices in the world to violate your ears when you’re meant to be sound asleep in your coffin, there are few that could be worse.

“Why… why am I…”

You, who must be the “thrall,” gaze upon her, as commanded.

You remember speaking with your wife, a few months before the extended hospital stay interrupted, about how the entire atmosphere around Marigold’s printing press was starting to scare you. It started as something small: Marigold, the royally-dressed woman who ran a printing business, had pushed you when you showed up late, and crossed her arms at you. “I didn’t buy you for $500 a week just for you to steal five minutes of my time,” she had said. You only brushed past her then, apologized, and clocked in, avoiding her fingers.

And then, it was the way that her hands glided down yours while you were working. As if the sound of the clunking printer was an invitation to her. The raw tension in her fingers, the sweat they sent down your spine and the way they made your then-existent stomach turn. She mentioned your wife, and how she must be a lucky woman. A lucky, lucky woman. “Is she fulfilling all your needs?” she asked. “Ever want someone else to suck your soul out?” That soft voice, like the surface of a Marigold flower.

And then, on the hospital bed, where you were writhing and trying to keep your composure in front of your wire, as she ran her fingers through her hair in the way that made you wish to sit up and kiss her, you thought that you saw Marigold again. She’d been outside the window of your room, but it was dark out at the time, and rainy, so you convinced yourself that it was just the flash of a tree branch. Just an ordinary tree branch. Or, when you were feeling superstitious, it was a ghost ready to guide you to the afterlife. You were ready, and quite honestly, of all the things in your life to reminisce on, your job was far down on the list.

You hadn’t thought of Marigold in days. You could’ve gone all of eternity without remembering the name of the boss who once leaned in to kiss you on a Thursday afternoon, leaving the remaining 2 hours of your shift an awkward ordeal for you to shimmy through. You could’ve left her as a footnote of your life. Would you even mention the printing place to the angel tasked with weighing your life?

“In the eye, thrall,” she says now, and you want to vomit. No - why her? Why is she here, when you can’t talk back to her?

“Wh…what… have you done…?”

You look her in the eyes, the shining green eyes that had been a dull blue before. You study her face all the way down to the grin. A few more scars have made the way across her face since you last saw her.

“I was dead,” you continue. “I kissed my wife goodbye and I heard the… the heartbeat monitor stop,” you grit your teeth, though your head still lulls. Out of ink, no more miracles, your free trial of life ended - you were dead, dead, dead!

“Oh, you are dead, my thrall…” she says, leaning close to you. You expect her to stop, but she doesn’t, and soon her chapstick is violating your mouth. She sucks out your rotted breath from your plaque-covered teeth, and you lack the strength to pull away. It’s only once she does, that you once again relish in the permission to breathe, through lungs filled with bugs. “Dead as dead can be… dead, dead, dead…”

“W…was happy… being dead…”

“That’s not your choice to make, my thrall. You’re but a corpse. Do corpses get to make choices about how their owners play with them? No. And you’re a corpse. A dull, smelly corpse for me to animate as I please.”

She puts her stuff into your chest… how big is the hole? How much of you is dripping away?

“Just, a fucking, corpse. And not even one of the more useful ones under my command.”

“...why?”

“You thought that you could skip out on work by taking an unannounced vacation to the afterlife? No, no, no my thrall… think again. I invested too much training time into you to let you go to waste. I expect you to be back to work in minutes, thrall. Rise…”

You feel the joints in your legs start to light up… and you move.

No, no, no, you whisper to yourself. Not like this. You remember joking about how necromancy isn’t as scary as it sounds, how all that talk of disrupting the sanctity of the dead was hogwash. And now the wind through your chest tickles the sides of your exposed organs, teasing them, causing a beetle to flicker its wings against a drooping artery. You think of the trillions of infections creeping their way into your vessel right now.

But you stand, head lulling, eyes sagging. Something flakes off your cheek. Your hair is full of blood and loose flesh. You fail to lift your arms.

“Necromancer…” you mumble under your breath.

“That’s right, my thrall,” she bats her hair, and sticks her staff under your shoulder. “And you’re now my dull, reanimated property. It’ll be a long, long, long time before I let you return to the ground.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[lilmissnatcat24]

Turn Left Ch 29- 4 Minutes by Madonna ft. Justin Timberlake

Shepard, Garrus, Wrex, and Liara fight to escape the warehouse with the rachni. Enemies are closer to Shepard than she first thought. (CW: gore)

Relationship: Femshep/Garrus Vakarian

Archive Warnings in author's note

Additional tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, slow build, alternate universe- canon divergence, detective noir, sex club, anonymous sex, canon temporary character death, murder mystery, drug use, dom garrus vakarian, whump, smut, heavy angst, alien sex, dual pov, an overly sexual elcor named candy, earthborn, ruthless, fake/pretend relationship, dead dove: do not eat, identity porn, minor character death

Detective AU mixed with identity porn mixed with so much whump my fingers are bleeding

(or, start from the beginning here)

lil text blurb:

Sixty seconds. This was okay, right? There were a million things Shepard could get done in sixty seconds. She could lace up her shoes. She could down a small container of carryout fries. She could braid her hair once down the back of her skull. She could get herself off-- twice, if she set her vibrator into maximum override mode. 

What she pointedly could not do was escape a warehouse with noxious gas threatening to gas them all out. Say what you want, but she was no miracle worker. She considered laying down on the ground in a fetal position and rocking back and forth. She also considered fishing out the one little last bit of sand she carried on her-- she wasn’t going to forget it like the last major assault she was apart of when she needed it the most-- and snorting it, rubbing her fingertips in her gums for that last little bit of high right before she died. She also considered grabbing Vakarian by the carapace and bringing her lips to his. Not that she imagined what it would be like kissing turians with all of her free time or anything; call it more of a scientific curiosity. 

Luck would have it, however, that for once she wasn’t the one who had to think quickly on their feet. “See that porthole to your right?” the voice in her comms, Nihlus, said firmly. “Blow it out. It’ll be a squeeze, especially for the krogan, but you’ll all fit.” 

“And if I don’t?” Wrex asked. 

“Well, it was nice knowing you then, Wrex my boy.” Wrex responded to that with a guttural yell, his head glowing blue before making contact with the porthole, shards of glass flying out onto the street below. “It’s a drop. Sorry if you break your ankles, but I think you’d rather a little sprain than suffocate to death.” 

[esoteric-mantra-stuff]

Pax Romana (a Starry Night new beginning)

Here's the second part of the Starry Night duology. I might return to this universe at some point, but for now it's the end. Thank you once again to everyone who's read this part and given it a chance.

CW: Blood, Neck injury, Major Character Death (>:3c) and anything AoIS related.

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

The path to the Two Fingers is quite treacherous. Going down through Nokstella was fairly simple. On your way you mostly told Aster to hide while you dealt with any attackers you found. Giant Ants, Silver Tears, and even some of the remaining Nox. All felled by you with relative ease. When not in combat Aster hung close by your side, afraid of getting lost in the maze of caves and ancient ruins beneath the false sky. You eventually would reach an ominous red glow and the familiar stench of toxic mushrooms, but not before being confronted by a curious sight.

“That’s… me?” You say as you’re confronted by a wolf-headed figure. While the invader was cloaked in the usual red glow, it was still obvious to see the resemblance to you. A massive sword over his shoulder, reeking of destined death, to mirror your own covered in frost magic. A furred cloak, and more importantly a wolven head pulled into a snarl. You tell Aster to hide somewhere behind you, as you draw your blade from its scabbard. The Baleful Shadow wastes no time in approaching, slicing at you in a vertical strike. You bring your greatsword up to deflect, the impact sending sparks flying where both blades meet. Another strike, this one directionally from above, but the Baleful Shadow is too reckless. The swing misses as you fall to a crouch, then you use up your full strength to bring your blade in contact with the shadow’s arm with an upward swing. His sword falls to the side with a clang along with his arm. Before he has time to react, you bring the full weight of your sword against his neck, sending the wolven head flying into the air. A messy ending, but a victory nonetheless. “Aster, don’t come over yet!” You shout at the boy hiding behind some rocks. This is too bloody for him to see, you have to clean up before continuing.

Taking the body and moving it out of the way, you come across the head of the Baleful Shadow. Taking it into your hand, and against your better judgment, you look at the head in close detail. The shoddy gray fur, the overbite of the lower jaw, and even the scar above the eye is identical to yours. The eyes, now lifeless and empty, have a red look to their irises as opposed to your lavender ones. You wonder why there would be another one of you, or at least a replica of you attacking whoever comes close to the Fingers. You’ve always been a bit skeptical that the Two Fingers could force you to betray your mistress, and yet… Well, it’s not hard to imagine yourself in the position of this Baleful Shadow. Stripped of all will, and fighting to defend your cruel maker. The very thing she was fighting to stop. The very thing you decided to dig your heels in over, and destroy everything for. The future you were fighting so hard for, might have not been as different from the one this shadow got. Your head rolling away from your shoulders, in a dead city.

….

You take the head and reunite it with the rest of the shadow. You don’t have time to bury him, but you do make sure his eyes are closed and he’s laid to rest in a respectful way. Cleaning yourself up with a napkin, you go find Aster who’s been sitting in a fetal position behind some rocks, his little ears pivoting to and fro waiting for your signal to come out of hiding. “Alright! You can come out now!” You tell the pup, who excitedly walks up to you with his wobbling feet. None the wiser about the bloodbath that happened a moment prior. He grabs your hand with a smile. “You were gone for so long, I was starting to get worried. He must’ve been really tough, but I knew you could do it!” Aster says. You smile down at him, it’s better if he believes that. “Very. All the more reason to get going, eh?” You say, looking at the path forward. “Although, I am not entirely sure how we’re going to cross this place.”

The Lake of Rot is grotesque and grand at the same time. The rot-infested waters glow crimson like the skies of Caelid, spanning for miles in every direction. On the far shore, you spot some ruins, which you assume must be the cloister where the way up is supposed to be. It's as impressive as it is worrying that a place such as this could exist. Luckily, it's so far underground that it poses little threat to the people above. Of course with no boat or protective equipment, crossing this lake might prove even more dangerous than you thought. If only you had Torrent, The Tarnished’s spectral steed to take you across. Not that he would have let you ride him, you might’ve crushed the poor thing if you tried. Looking down at the pup taking your hand, he seems transfixed by a spot near the shore. “Do you see something, Aster?” You ask the boy, who tugs at your arm and points to the empty spot. “There’s a special spot here. I can make some preserving boluses so we can cross.” A special spot? Could that mean? “... Do you mean a Site of Grace?” You ask, curious about the fact that Aster can apparently see Grace, not unlike the Tarnished warriors that come to this land. The pup nods, tugging at your arm and leading you to a spot closer to the shore. While you don’t feel a difference, it is clear that Aster can see and interact with the items a Site of Grace grants to its users, not unlike his mother. It’s nostalgic seeing someone go through the motions of using spectral storage to get a crafting kit and materials out, much like your ex-lover used to do all those years ago. “This will only take a moment. So sit tight, okay?” The boy reassures you as he begins mashing the materials together to make the boluses.

He’s so entranced with his work that you don’t bother making small talk. Instead you stare out into the lake. An angry red color, glowing unnaturally and teeming with Scarlet Rot spores. As far as you understand it, The Lake of Rot is the source of the Scarlet Rot, held back only by the flowing waters of the adjacent rivers. Stories of a blind swordsman come to mind, a warrior that defeated the goddess of rot and forced her influence beneath the earth. Except, Malenia, sword of Miquella, seemed to have become the new source of the disease since then. Your brother, General Radahn, fought against her for control of the shards after the shattering, only for Malenia to unleash her rot, leaving Caelid in its current sorry state. Does that mean the disease can no longer be contained by the flowing waters here? Or even worse: Does that mean the Rot Goddess the blind swordsman banished so long ago has been reborn? If that’s the case then maybe the Lands Between are fated to become engulfed by the disease after all, at least they are so long as things remain broken. All the more reason to find a new Elden Lord, you suppose. Not that you made the process quicker by impregnating the most likely candidate and forcing her (like the idiot you are) to take time to care for your children while you were mad over nothing. Great going there, moron. At least now that her kids are older she’ll be able to get back to her quest. And you… you don’t like to think about your future lately. For now you only wish to concentrate on finishing this last quest. What you’ll do after… you’ll have to come up with it on the fly.

“Okay, I’m ready!” The pup waddles over, an outstanding amount of Preserving Boluses in his arms. “The Rot takes a few minutes to take effect, if you start feeling sick then take one or two of these to feel better right away.” Aster explains. He sounds like he’s repeating a set of instructions given to him. You grab one bolus, only to recoil from the intensity of the scent. They smell… potent. Even more so than regular boluses. “You really made all of these in such a short time?” You ask, and the boy nods, proud of his accomplishment. “Uh-huh. Mum taught me how to make them, but I’ve been doing this for a long time.” You pet him behind the ears and he leans into your touch. “Good job, Aster.” From here you can see his tail wag. It's adorable.

You resolve that the best way to cross is if Aster sits on your shoulders, and you take the boluses and cross. He’s too tiny and the water is too deep. Besides on top of your head he can be as far away as possible from the water until you’re safe to cross. Aside from a few basilisks hidden beneath the waves, the crossing is very peaceful. You take a bolus every minute or so and immediately feel invigorated, the overwhelming feeling of disease vanishes from your body, and you feel brand new. This medicine truly is more potent than the normal variety, perhaps you’ll ask for Aster’s recipe later, once you’re back on dry land.

—-----------------

You hear the carefree laugh of your son, bright and clear like the sun. His little eyes, a dimmed reflection of a familiar pair, stare up at you with wonderment. To a one-year-old, everything is new and exciting, so he stares up into the great unknown and smiles while putting one finger in his mouth. “Such a happy guy, huh?” You say, holding him in your arms. “So happy all the time, maybe one day you can tell me what you find so funny.” You kiss him on the forehead, causing his eyes to go cross-eyed for a moment. Of course, he finds this hilarious and starts giggling and clapping his hands in amusement. The other two are having fun playing with their toys, not really paying much attention besides the occasional look and call for you to see a drawing or resolve a squabble. You played with them some earlier, but your littlest one didn’t get his turn, so you made some time for him now.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, okay?” You say to your puppy in a hushed tone, he tilts his little head, curious about the secret you’re about to share. “I’m always happy to see you too, Aster.” You whisper close to him, booping his little nose. You feel his little tail wag and he wraps his arms around your neck. “I love you, mummy!” He says, holding on tight to you. A sweet little bundle of fluff you wish to keep safe and happy for as long as you can. “I love you too… my sweet boy.” You brush over the fluffy fur on the back of your son’s head, only to catch something gleaming out of the corner of your eye.

Turning to the woods that surround your camp you see a small blue spark somewhere amongst the foliage. Squinting, you try to make out the details hidden in the shade of the trees. Suddenly you freeze like a deer in the headlights, caught staring into the eyes of something in the dark. One eye gleams an icy blue that makes you think of glintstone, alive with power. The other does not share this striking property, but it is a soft periwinkle that makes you think of someone familiar. For a moment you’re worried that Blaidd has found you, breaking his agreement to leave you for five years and has come to recover the Fingerslayer blade, yet there’s also something not quite fitting about the figure. It’s too… small. Blaidd towers over things at 9 feet in height, in comparison this figure seems far more human sized. It only succeeds in making the inhuman gaze creepier. You move closer to your children, who stare up at you in confusion. Even Aster stares at you with concern, turning to look in the direction of the figure and then looking back to you as if nothing was wrong. They cannot see it. You look down at the brown and white pups hugging at your legs, then back at the figure only to find it has vanished. The endless gaping mouth of the forest is left in its place.

You wake up from your restless dream, more tired than you were before. This hunt for your missing son has started to weigh on you, but you cannot turn back. Getting up from your rug, you skip breakfast and get ready to keep moving. Caria Manor is still some ways away, and Aster and his abductor have about a day of advantage on you. If you ever hope to catch up to them, you have to save as much time as you can. Mounting Torrent you ride off, but the figure in your dream still haunts you. Why was something like that inserting itself in your memories? Had your mind created a demon to haunt you even in your dreams, or was it something else? Curiously, you did not feel any malice from the creature’s glare, only curiosity. “Perhaps I’ve just lost it.” You remark to Torrent, who snorts dismissively. Well, whatever it is, you can only hope it will leave you alone after you save your son.

—-----------------

You get out of the coffin you found inside the cloister, now in a cave full of bioluminescent fungi. You’d been worried there for a moment that perhaps you’d made a mistake getting on that thing. When it started to fall you were mostly concerned for Aster’s safety, you can’t die but you have no idea if Aster is capable of dying, and that is not something you wish to ever find out. “Wow, that was kinda scary, huh? Haha….” The boy says, jumping out of the coffin and into the cave, way too nonchalant for what was most certainly a near-death experience. “S-Sure was….” You answer, not sure how to share in his enthusiasm. Whatever, you’re close to the Moonlight Altar, so you only need to push forward a little more now.

You look around the cave. Very clearly, you’re not in the Lake of Rot anymore. The rock above cannot possibly be connected to the waterfall. Besides, the water looks free of the fleshy spores, and the only fungi around seems benign. There's a small tunnel, and past it is most likely the Moonlight Altar. You take Aster’s hand, cautious of the way forward. It’s possible there are more enemies nearby. It smells like a creature lives here, but it’s not one you’ve ever encountered before. The room widens into a large empty cavern. The stalactites (or is it stalagmites?) drip from the ceiling, causing waves as they crash with the wet floor. A clear and shallow pool of water reflects all things above like a mirror. Perhaps it would be more spectacular had the view above been more dazzling.

Making your way through slowly, you eventually come across a large frozen thing in the far end. It has mandibles like a beetle, but the wings of a dragonfly, the skull of a man and the tail of a scorpion. “Defensive wounds.” Aster mutters, looking at the creature over. “Um… it died pretty quickly I think. After someone hit it with a sword….” The boy looks uncomfortable, though you’re amazed he could tell so much just by looking at this thing. “Let’s get out of here, eh?” You say, trying to lighten the mood. Aster looks up at you and smiles. “Okay!” He says. You walk past the unusual creature into a short passageway. Finally, you encounter the well exit that will lead you into the Moonlight Altar. “You ready?” You ask the boy by your side, who nods with determination. “Let’s go.” With that vote of confidence, you step into the lift, and ride up to your final destination.

—-----------------

You make your way past the moon viewing pool of Caria Manor. The illusory knight that guarded the place having long since been dispelled, you pass the knocked-over chairs and reach the Three Sisters. According to Rogier, rumors place your missing son somewhere in the vicinity of Blaidd’s ancient home. A little wolf-headed boy holding the hand of a large man with a brutish looking sword. While they didn’t mention anything about the man’s lupine features, there’s only so many people that would be heading to this creepy place that fit that description. Adula, Ranni’s dragon, lands before you as you take your first step towards the stairs. “Get out of my way, you oversized salamander!” You yell, too pissed off to be intimidated by the dragon. She roars, building up frost in her throat and getting ready to blast you with a torrent of ice. How annoying. “I don’t have time for this….” You say, bringing up your greatsword above your head with two hands. You focus on the blade, calling to the long lost memories of war that were etched onto it.  Blue light engulfs it, extending it into a massive weapon of light. In a moment you bring it down above Adula’s forehead, splitting her skull apart like an apple in a comical display. Just as quickly as it appeared, the light disappears from your greatsword, leaving it as it was before, only bloodier. “Sorry, but I warned you.” You mutter to the corpse, too busy to really ponder on how easy that victory was. You instead turn your attention to Ranni’s Rise, returning to your previous objective. Each step you take makes a deafening sound in the silence of Ranni’s domain. Looking up at the same tower all of these years later fills you with a strange nostalgia, mixed with pure disdain for its owner. Maybe if things had gone differently, you would have never had to return to this tower ever again. If Blaidd had not been so stubborn about his oath, if his nature allowed him to see Ranni as you did, he would not have stolen your son away. Shaking your head, you remind yourself of why you’re here. You’ll deal with the half-wolf one way or another, but first you must deal with the witch.

The stone stairs, the glintsone crystals, the books strewn about, all of it was the same as the last time you saw it. While your life was full of changes and upheaval, it would seem Ranni and Blaidd’s stagnated. Not that you feel sorry for her, if anything she probably deserves it. A rotting old tower to match her rotten interior. A rotting body of twine and ceramic from which she would never escape, were it up to you at least. You pass the main chamber and step into the elevator, sorting your thoughts out as you ride it up. Getting mad at Ranni might put Aster in danger, but you need answers. If Ranni intends to put your son in danger, then you’ll have no choice but to fight her and potentially kill her. Rogier told you she’s on a different level from anything you’ve seen before, but you can’t sit by the side and watch her do whatever she wants with other people’s lives. She may be strong, but there’s a reason she’s been hiding instead of doing everything out in the open. There has to be something she’s afraid of. As the elevator stops you’re faced with the final winding staircase up to Ranni’s chamber. Climbing the perilous final stretch (there’s no railing on this, that’s unsafe.) you eventually reach Ranni the witch herself, who peers at you as you enter from beneath the rim of her hat. You really want to bat that stupid thing off, but you try your best to stay calm.

“... Greetings, tarnished. Quite bold of thee to enter my chamber without an invitation. Though I distinctly remember banishing thee from my domain, I shall let this incident slide.” The witch says, playing dumb. Obviously she knows why you’re here, and she knows that you know she’s involved. “Spare me the act, Ranni.” You say, feeling unwilling to play along with her games. “Tell me where Aster went. I know you made Blaidd take him, so don’t try to play dumb.” Ranni merely shakes her head, and for a moment you see what might be sadness cross her doll features. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but it piques your interest. “... The Moonlight Altar… that is where thy child is being taken by Blaidd as we speaketh.” She says, cold and uncaring as always. “If all goes according to the plan, the Two Fingers shall meet their end, and the Age of Stars will be upon us…Is that all thou wished to know?” The Two Fingers? You figured it had something to do with that, but you didn’t think Ranni would swoop so low as to kidnap your son to usher in her Age of Stars. “So you intend to use a child as a tool to get your way? What the hell is wrong with you?! If it’s so important, why don’t you do it yourself now that the blade is yours?!” You scowl. If you could take your sword and run it through her unfeeling porcelain face, you would have already. The witch looks away, into the expanse visible from her tower. A single icy blue eye stares into the distance. You can see the Moonlight Altar from here. “I hath enough of these petty squabbles… Blaidd, for all his loyalty, no longer aligns with the fated path we are to take. He intends to continue making me into his slaver, for that is his nature as a shadow… I shall not alloweth that any longer. This is a compromise that shall leave Blaidd at your mercy. Doth thou understand?” She looks at you, her single eye sends shivers through your spine. Her expression is unreadable, but you don’t sense any malice in her glare.

“... I think I do.” You admit. While you’re not keen on the details, you think you get the jist of it. Blaidd shall only be destroyed by the Fingers if Ranni turns traitor. So she took Aster so he can kill them for her, leaving Blaidd out of it by proxy. “But why? Why do you care now? You knew Blaidd was going to die and you did not even consider an alternative.” Ranni looks away, back to the Moonlight Altar. Is she expecting to see Blaidd from so far away? Or is her eye special somehow, letting her see things you can’t with your human ones. “... Blaidd… is unhappy.” The doll speaks, sounding… sad? It’s so subdued it’s hard to tell, but she sounds upset. She ignores your confusion and continues like it’s nothing. “A shadow doth exist to serve its master, with not a thought of betrayal ever crossing its mind. Thus, regardless of the circumstance, it shall always yield to its master's will with a smile... yet, Blaidd is unhappy....” Her eye turns while her head is still facing the windows. It’s a little creepy, but you don’t jump (it’s more of a jolt). "Mayhaps he hath not yet realized it, but within his heart, his act of treachery hath already taken root. Were he free to choose, he would renounce the Age of Stars for the sake of the boy... and for thy sake. Of that, I hath no doubts…." Blaidd… would? So then why have you lived with this guilt all this time? Why… Why did Blaidd react so explosively to your treachery, if he felt that way? What was the point?

"His choices bear no weight... as of now. He remains tethered by his oath to me, yet once the Fingers crumble into dust, and the Age of Stars dawns, those chains that bind him shall shatter. Then he shall be at your disposal....” Ranni’s voice cuts through your muddled thoughts like a knife. “His display of intimidation... that was beyond my directive. If thou hold'st resentment for him due to it, thou art free to claim his life if thou so desirest. Once the Fingers vanish, he shall be mortal. Though….” Her arms shift and fold, and she rests her chin upon the palm of her left arm. The thin porcelain fingers touch her face delicately. "To mine eyes, such an outcome doth appear as a squandering of opportunities, does it not?”

It’s hard to take it all in at once. So Blaidd took Aster to slay the Two Fingers, but it will result in him being free to be by your side. Will he even want to do that? You’re still a traitor, after all. Blaidd’s hatred for traitors might not be abated by freedom. But if what Ranni says is true, then Blaidd has already been feeling disillusioned with the Age of Stars. Without him here it’s hard to tell what will happen. “I’m not happy with your plan.” You finally confess. The witch stares at you, inscrutable as ever. “You still put Aster in danger, and I will not do anything until I can guarantee he is safe.” That is why you came here after all. Aster needs you, and you can’t abandon him under these new circumstances."... as I did anticipate. The path unto the Moonlight Altar doth lay through Renna’s Rise. Thou may choose to trail them if it doth please thee. I am confident that Blaidd... shall be greatly disquieted by thy presence.” You stare at Ranni, she seems bored with this whole affair. “You’re awfully calm. Are you not scared I’ll stop them before they can kill the Fingers?” You say to the doll, but she just tilts her head with a fake smile. "No... thou hast dallied far too much to achieve that. For which I hold gratitude. I had no need to summon thee hither, thou camest of thy own volition." She says. You scoff, figures she might’ve been stalling. That’s your sign to leave if you wish to catch up to them. “Right… all the more reason to get going, then.” You say, turning away from her. The witch does not say goodbye, and you don’t either. You have a lot on your plate right now, and more importantly you have a half-wolf to catch.

—-----------------

The Cathedral of Manus Celes is silent when you arrive. The night breeze passes through your fur and you shiver. You’ve never liked the cold, not even in good times. Finding a crater hidden in this mess might prove a bit tricky. Curtains of vines drape through the empty windows, and leafy tendrils trickle and curl in the tops of the doorways, hanging across the masonry like a shroud over a corpse. Shrubs and trees grow between the pillars, among heaped chunks of frieze that must once have held up a ceiling. Strips of grass poke from between the stone tiles. Greenery does its best to embrace every stone, every wrought-iron window frame, as if to comfort the cathedral in its demise. The crumbling walls and decayed beauty speak of the cathedral's slow, steady decline into ruin, as nature relentlessly reclaims what was once a bastion of the Nox’s achievement. You look through the stonework and rubble, looking for the crater that will lead you to the Two Fingers. Eventually you find it, a gaping mouth, dark as night that winds down into the earth. You tell Aster to climb on your back as you make your way down into the depths.

At the end of the dark winding path, beneath crumbling remains and broken remnants of the Nox’s civilization, you found your target within a cavern adorned by roots and stained carpets. Ranni’s Two Fingers, in all their grotesque glory. They writhe with curiosity at your arrival, but without a translator it is impossible to know what they said. “Do you have the blade, Aster?” You look down at the boy, who nods and pulls the Fingerslayer out of his little makeshift pack. The blade of jagged bone immediately sends the Fingers into high alert. “Um… can you boost me up? I can’t reach.” Aster asks, looking a little shy. You nod, grabbing him underneath the arms and bringing him closer to the frightened fingers. This is really strange, and you don’t feel entirely comfortable letting a child do this. Still, these are orders from your lady, so you don’t have a choice. “I’m sorry Mr. Fingers… um… I’ll try to be gentle.” The boy says. Perhaps it would be more endearing were it not said before a deicide (or is it a demi-deicide? You’re not sure). Aster plunges the blade into the fingers, up to the hilt and then lets go. It’s hard to tell how he feels about it, but he looks lost in thought. You let the boy back down, and he looks up at you. “Are you okay, Aster?” You ask, not sure about how murdering something so inhumane might affect his young mind. You can only hope it did not leave him with any mental scars or lingering regrets. After a tense moment, Aster lets out a big yawn (complete with that trademark squeak at the end) and rubs his eyes. “... m’tired. I wanna go home now.” You let out a chuckle. “Alright, let’s go then.” You squat down, and Aster clambers up your back. It seems he’s fine for now, but you’ll pay attention to any negative signs. Now it’s time to make your return.

As you step out into the Moonlight altar, you see something curious. A twinkling pair of lights, one an icy blue and another a light shade of purple, hidden behind the shadow of a tree. In the moonlight it’s hard to tell, but it seems like a pair of eyes to you. You’re not alone! Immediately your senses go on high alert as you perk your ears and take a deep breath to detect any more attackers. A step in the grass by your left, you snap to attention drawing your sword, only to be met with a Black Knife Assassin lunging at you. Aster squeals in fear, but you manage to cut the attacker down before it could strike you. Damn it! You should have guessed the Two Fingers would attempt to defend themselves, and now you’ve put Aster in danger as a result. You fool! Before you can berate yourself any further, you tell Aster to hold on tight and you run away, hearing footsteps rushing after you. So long as you don’t know how many assassins there are, you can’t risk having them catch you while Aster is on your back. The figure with the heterochromatic eyes will have to wait.

Eventually, after running for what feels like hours, you find a large enough tree with sturdy looking branches. “Aster, don’t be scared, okay? I’m gonna need you to climb up there.” You say to the boy as you take him off your back with your hands. The pup wraps his arms around your neck and sobs. “Please don’t leave me alone… I… I don’t wanna be alone!” Your heart aches, and you want to comfort the boy properly, but there’s no time. You pull him away more forcefully than you’d like, and force him to stare at you. His eyes are filled with tears. “I’m not leaving you, but you’ll be safer up there. I’ll be right here where you can see me, promise.” You exclaim, but then your ears twitch at the sound of your pursuers’ footsteps. They’re here! “Now, go!” You say pushing him up the tree and turning back. You hear Aster climb up, the leaves of the tree rustling as he settles in a higher branch. Opening your ears and eyes as wide as you can, you try to locate your attackers. The assassins have cloaks that allow them partial invisibility. It’s subtle, but you can find them if you concentrate. One of them moves and your body, coiled up like a spring, releases all the tension into a swing that cuts the body in half, splattering the ground in red. You can only hope Aster was looking away. Immediately after, two more sets of footprints rush for the tree, but with a growl you swing your greatsword twice. Slicing each assassin into pieces before they can reach. “Look away, Aster!” You yell, but you don’t hear the response as an Assassin swings her black knife close to your face. You luckily manage to roll away just in time, but she escapes into the dark, becoming invisible again. You cheek stings and you notice that she managed to strike a surface wound. It wouldn’t scar, but it’s not a good sign. You can’t keep going forever like this, you need a plan.

That’s when Aster's voice can be heard from somewhere above you. “Um… There’s one of them getting close from your left.” You’re surprised, but you quickly swing your sword through the dark and strike true on an assassin. Her blood splatters over the grass. “Now there’s one on your right, and one behind you!” The boy says again. You don’t question it, but sure enough as you swing your sword, two assassins are stuck. One dodges beneath, but you manage to kick her to the floor before stabbing your sword through the light armor. “How can you tell where they are?!” You yell up, concentrating on the scent of the attackers over the overwhelming scent of blood. “They keep leaving footprints on the blood. There’s one approaching from right in the front, it’s running pretty fast!” You look forward to the sound of footprints rushing towards you. You swing your sword, but the assassin ducks beneath it, slinking to the left. Just as you thought you lost sight of it, an explosion of colorful powder occurred to your left, and a very confused and very pink assassin was left exposed. “I’ll make them easier to see for you! It’s good that I brought my crafting kit along.” Another explosion of color, this time green, painted another assassin visible for you. “Good job, Aster!” You yell as your now very exposed prey was defenseless against your sword.

Three more colorful bombs were thrown from the tree, and three more assassins were cut down. Their blood mixed with the colors they were painted with, leaving a morbid bright scene. You can only hope the view is less gorey from up there in the tree, at least the assassins’ bodies dissolve into ash instead of piling up after death. For a moment it seems quiet and you’re about to ask Aster if he spots any more, when a scream is heard. “Ahh! Dad help!” You turn sharply at the sound of the boy’s distress, only to be confronted with an assassin pinning the boy to the floor, about to plunge the knife into him. Did she sneak up behind you where neither of you could see her? You don’t care, suddenly you feel white hot anger and lunge uncaringly at the assailant. “STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SON!” You feel more than you hear yourself exclaim.

In a moment you’re rolling on top of the assassin. Her knife is still in her hand, but now your fangs have sunk into her neck. You bite down and pull to rip her throat out, but before the deed is done she manages to slash at your neck defensively. You ignore the pain, and she dies like the scum she is. You hear little footsteps pad over to you. That was the last of them, but your problems are not over. You bring a hand to your neck, the cut was deeper than you expected. You’re having trouble breathing now. You see, but don’t hear Aster scream while rushing to your side with tears in his eyes. You tumble over to the side, feeling your body becoming numb. You're left staring up at the sky as he stands over you, forcing something into the wound of your neck as he cries. You want to apologize, but your throat is filled with blood and you can’t speak. So all you do is bring your hand up, and wipe his tears away. “I’m sorry I could not keep my promise, Aster” You want to say. “but I’m so happy… I'm so… so happy I got to meet you… I’m so happy I got to be your dad… even if it didn’t last long.” You try to mutter out, but the words don’t leave you. “So please don’t cry… I want to see you smile again before I go….” You think you said, but your ears are filled with cotton, and Aster’s tears don’t stop. Maybe it was too much of you to ask. But you get to be selfish. At least once in your life you get to be selfish.

Then the world fades, and you are no more.

—-----------------

Except you don’t die like you thought you would. You dream. You imagine the life you could have had if only you’d not been born into shackles. You see a beautiful family, where everyone loves each other, and no one is trapped by their past. You see Ranni, standing by the side, present despite her differences with your lover. She will never understand why it hurts you seeing her here. You see your kids, happy and healthy, each one of their little eyes looking up at you with wonder and love. You see Aster, clinging to your hand as you walk together. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too. You see her, beautiful like only she can be. She takes your hand in hers, and your sense of direction disappears. You want to go where she’s going, and you’re happy to let her take you there. You don’t know for how long you dream, but at some point you open your eyes to see the stars far above you.

Your senses return to you one by one. First you smell antiseptic and medicine, strong and close to you. The chemical scent makes your nose crinkle. Second, your mouth feels very dry, like it has been in disuse for a long time. You bring your tongue over your fangs, remarking on the iron taste of blood over them. Your body feels too numb to move, but your ears turn as you hear someone stepping close to where you’re laying down. “Finally awake, are you?” A woman's voice. You know her, but you’ve never heard her be this tired. “Aster has not stopped crying since we found you, you know? You’re going to have to apologize to him for almost dying in front of him.” Her tone is mocking, but you also detect relief in her voice. You try to tilt your head to see her, but you whine in pain as your neck stings when you move. “Hey there, careful. It was really difficult to put you back together after that little stunt you pulled.” She kneels over you, and you can finally see her face as she readjusts the bandages around your neck. “It’s… you….” You try to say, but it comes out as a broken whisper. Your voice is too mangled to speak as anything more than a hoarse mutter. Still, she looks down at you and smiles. “Of course it’s me. You didn’t think I was going to let you abduct my son without giving chase, did you? You know me better than this.” That you do. Your tail wags as much as the numbness in your body lets it. “It’s nice… to see you again….” You push out of your mouth. She looks away to the camp, you can hear the sound of children laughing as someone very excitedly tells a fairy tale. Then looks back down at you. “That’s not how you felt last time we spoke. If I remember correctly, you promised to hunt me down.” She says, one brow raised. While she seems to be toying with you, you still sense some pain beneath her words.

You feel the shame of what you said wash over you. You can’t even recall what you were thinking anymore. Before reason can stop you, you blurt out what’s been in your mind for a long time. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry” You both say at the same time, interrupting each other. Her eyes open wide upon hearing you apologize. You would almost laugh if your body didn’t feel so numb. “You… first….” You say, recovering a bit of feeling in your lungs. You still are not completely fine, so it’s better if you wait some more before speaking. She composes herself, brushing her hair back with one hand and taking a deep breath. “Okay… I just wanted to say sorry… this happened because of me. I… should have trusted you with the Fingerslayer Blade.” She looks down at you, at your wounds. “... I just felt I needed to save you so badly. I care so much about you, I could not stand the thought of the Two Fingers driving you mad. At the time I figured it was fine if you hated me so long as you didn’t die over this… I didn’t see how much I was hurting you… and I apologize.” She looks into your eyes, and this is the first time you’ve noticed how red they are. She’s been crying too over this, hasn’t she? “Now you go.” She finishes. Looks like the floor is yours.

You take a deep breath, trying to reawaken your neglected throat and lungs as much as you can. A sincere apology deserves one in return, and even though you’re not good with words, you will try to deliver. “I’m sorry… not just for taking Aster away… It must not have been easy… seeing me try to destroy myself for the sake of my sister….” You stare into her eyes. When you’re this close she must feel your rancid breath on her skin, but if it bothers her, she does not show it. “... I didn’t see how much I was hurting you either… I couldn’t, that’s just not how shadows are… I’m sorry for what I said after too… You….” You feel something trail down the side of your face. Is it blood or tears? Perhaps it doesn’t matter, so long as you can say this with honesty. “You make a wonderful family… and I’m ashamed I couldn’t see that….” She looks down at you as you finish, a wavering smile crosses her lips as she comes close and kisses you on your forehead. If only you could come closer, you would lick her face in return. “Y’know… I don’t want to force you into anything….” She starts, staring at the camp where her children are now asking a certain male voice to read another story. “But I could use some help around here. If you’d like to stick around…” She’s playing coy, but her request comes to you loud and clear. “Really? I would have thought your new man might have some trouble with that….” You say, ignoring the pang of jealousy at the idea of anyone else having her. She chuckles, the joke is apparently lost on you. “Rogier and I aren’t like that… You can think of him as a last minute babysitter. This…” She says, drawing circles over your chest. It’s embarrassing to admit how much that drove the numbness out of your prick. “Is a lot more permanent. Besides, you can’t make up for abducting my child if you run away.” She says. Still as chopsy as ever. She looks into your eyes, and while she’s not forcing you into anything… well. “It sounds like a deal….” You say, earning yourself another kiss on the forehead.

Things might not return to how they were before, once something is broken it’s hard to place the pieces exactly the same. But that’s no reason not to try. Even though the future seems uncertain, and you’re still a little afraid, you keep moving forward for all your sakes. You can’t have courage if you don’t know fear, after all.

[shewhowas39]

sneak peek of Juniper & Starlight chapter 8!

now that the fun smut is out of my system, i'm back to work on this angsty chapter of Juniper & Starlight. hoping to get it up tomorrow. but here's a sneak peek.

CW: mentions of character death and Act 1 Dark Urge spoilers

***

Drawing closer, Shadowheart finally spots June. She’s curled in the fetal position on the ground, drenched in blood and with tears streaking down her face. Beside her, laying half-out of her tent, is the brutalized body of a horned figure. It’s so damaged - so mutilated - that it takes Shadowheart a moment to even recognize it as Alfira. 

She stares, stunned, for a moment, unable to speak even as the others shout and demand answers.

Alfira has been murdered.

And June is covered in someone else’s blood.

“You don’t remember?” Wyll sounds incredulous. “This poor girl has been stabbed dozens of times. She was stabbed even after she was dead. And there’s a bloody knife on the grass beside you. How can you not remember?” 

“I don’t know,” June sobs. Her eyes are on the corpse. “I don’t know, but I didn’t - I wouldn’t - I…”

“Bullshit!” 

Wyll is holding his rapier out in front of him, ready to strike June down. But June isn’t even looking at him. She’s doing nothing to defend herself. 

“Oh, please, you cannot be serious.” Astarion sounds bored, but Shadowheart can’t help but notice that he steps forward, angling himself so that he’s partially between Wyll and June. Not completely blocking her, but enough so that if a fight were to break out, his quick reflexes would give him an upperhand. “If she doesn’t believe her, we can hardly hold it against her. It’s not like the bard was all that important as it is.”

“Every life is important,” Wyll argues.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“You’re saying you believe her, then? Believe that she doesn’t remember doing this? Mudering an innocent woman in her sleep?”

Astarion gives a lazy shrug. “Doesn’t seem all that strange, does it? Her mind seems elsewhere often. And she has amnesia. Unless we’re questioning that, too?”

“Perhaps we should.”

“Astarion,” Gale says, looking tot he pale elf. “You were meant to be on watch. You didn’t see anything?”

“I was patrolling the edge of camp,” he says. “I thought I was meant to be keeping an eye out for outsiders - vampires, goblins, more irritating strays clambering to join our party. I didn’t think I needed to pay attention to what was going on inside the camp. My mistake.”

“A shame,” Gale says. “It would be helpful to know what really happened here.”

“I must’ve done it,” June whispers. Her eyes have not left Alfira’s face this entire time. Shadowheart doesn’t think she has blinked, even. “But I…I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t - I like her. I don’t wanna hurt people, but I keep having these visions and thoughts and I…I…I don’t remember. I don’t remember. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” 

“Could this be the parasite?” Shadowheart asks, finally finding her voice as the reality of this scene settles in. “The worm? Could it have caused this?”

“Unlikely.” It’s the first time Lae’zel has spoken. She stands at the edge of the gathering, arms folded over her chest, looking thoroughly unmoved. “This would be unusual behavior for a ghaik tadpole.”

“And it’s also unusual that we’re all still tentacle free,’ Astarion points out. “I hardly think we can assume these worms are typical.”

“Hmm.” Lae’zel scowls but says, “You make a fair point.”

“So you all believe this?” Wyll asks. “That she was controlled? That she doesn’t remember doing something so heinous?” 

“Dearest Wyll, June here has shown herself to be as obnoxiously heroic and generous as you are. I hardly think she has it in her - when she’s in her right mind at least. I’d assume the same if it was you covered in blood this morning.” He steps aside and does a dramatic sweeping gesture toward June. “But, by all means. If you insist on cutting her down while she’s a blubbering mess on the ground, I won’t stop you. I just would’ve thought it beneath you.”

***

more trauma to come when the full chapter goes up soon!

[burningflamescurse]

“Beginnings”

Pre—Accident!Stephen Strange x Fem! Surgeon!OFC, Grey’s anatomy Crossover.

A/N: First of all I have a lot of Original Characters that I am adding to this Series, Which I will Explain the roles right now before moving along into the actual writing part!

Chief of General Surgery: Doctor Jack Wilson

General Surgery Attending: Doctor Liam Jones

General Surgery Resident: Doctor Lucas Miller

Chief of Thoracic Surgery: Doctor Charlotte Garcia.

Thoracic Surgery Attending: Henry Davis

Thoracic Surgery Resident: Camila Taylor

OBGYN/Neonatal Surgeon: Emily Perez

Fetal Surgeon: Evelyn Lopez

Pediatrician: Asher Lewis.

Neurosurgery Resident: Noah Sanchez.

Orthopedic Surgeon: Aria Adams

Hand Surgeon: Layla Rivera

Spine Surgeon: Ethan Carter

Trauma Surgeon: Hazel Evans

Pediatric Surgeon: Aurora Baker

Interns: Amy Nelson, David Torres, James Scott, Shelby Edwards, Willow Brooks.

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

Chapter Two: Beginnings Of Tragic Incidents.

Chapter Summary: after Blake talked with Cristina about what’s been going on in Seattle with Meredith and Everyone else, her Interns do something unforgivable, something she can’t even Fathom forcing her to do something, maybe even tell her boyfriend.

CW//TW: Medial Terminology, Drama, Shouting, Surgery, Trauma, Cursing, Stephen getting mad at the interns, a Bunch of different OC’s, Blake and Christine are best friend, mentions of Derek shepherd’s Death, Trauma, Flashbacks, Cristina and Blake are like soulmates, injuries, mentions of Cutting an LVAD wire.

“So he totally is Like Meredith’s McDreamy, Huh?” Cristina said over the Phone call, Blake Hissed at her to shut up as she was in the Female Attendings Locker room, Pulling on her Dark Blue Scrubs. “Cristina!” She Whisper Shouted.

Cristina Snorted before ending the call, She Met Stephen Outside heading towards the Nurses Station to get and find there own Cases, like Any hospital Worked. “By the way where are your Stupid Interns?” He asked. Blake stopped, blinking her eyes noticing that none of her little Suck ups were around her, Malia Noticed the Doctor becoming Suspicious and Knew she had to tell on the Poor Interns.

"Doctor Shepherd, one of your Patients on the transplant list came back in after his heart was failing again despite the LVAD, They've been in his room for an hour now, I think his name was Daniel Cooper." Malia said, Blake had a bad feeling about all this, She nodded at Stephen and Malia to come with her. The Trio Scrambled to Cooper's Room, standing in shock when they saw what was happening. "What the hell.." Blake mumbled, her eyes widened in shock, seeing Amy Pumping his heart Manually as the LVAD Wire was cut with a Pair of Scissors next to it. "Amy, What the hell did you do?!" She Practically yelled, "and why are all you fools helping her?!"

Amy didn't respond continuing to Pump his heart, Blake looked at Stephen who shook his head, she nodded to Malia, "Malia take over Pumping his Heart, and Amy step away from the Patient." Malia Nodded and Tried to gently take the device away but Amy screamed no and said not to touch her, Blake Ignored Amy for now telling Malia to stay with her and to help Amy if she allowed her to, Blake turned to the three other Idiot doctors, "You three, In the hall. Now." She ordered.

Blake was angry, seething even. "What the hell were you three thinking, you could have killed that Patient." She said, Stephen was right next to her agreeing with her words, "Even worse, you could have endangered your careers and be sued for assaulting a Patient." Stephen added. David Tried to speak but Blake shushed him, "No, Not a word, you are not to speak, Not a single word, I don't wanna have to Testify against any of you fools." She said.

The Group was silent for a moment, “I assume you ran labs..” She said, Her eyes showing a Furious anger and Disappointment. They stayed Silent only fueling her Annoyance and anger, "Well?..." She demanded. James spoke, "you told us not to speak-"

"I know I did, Now did you run labs?!.." Blake said, tapping her foot impatiently, David Nodded, Blake sighed as she gave out orders, "Okay, Shelby Jack's been asking for you." She said giving her the order to go, before turning to the rest of the amazingly idiotic Interns, "David go get those labs and come right back, do not talk to anyone, go straight there and back."

Then She turned to James, "Now you, follow me and Stephen Right now."

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

A Few Hours later and both Blake and Stephen were making sure Mr. Cooper was okay, She listened to his heart with her Stethoscope sighing at how weak it sounded. "Why Amy... Why would you do this?.." She said, Continuing to to Listen to his heart while Stephen did a quick Neuro Exam to ensure he was okay in the head, no concussion or any Brain Bleed whatsoever. "Because he needs that heart and I love him.. I love him so damn Much Doctor Shepherd.." The Intern Whispered, Blake shook her head sighing In Disappointment.

"Oh for God's sake, you fell in love with a Patient.." Blake sighed, exasperated, Stephen was really trying to hold back all his anger at the Interns. "Well his Brain is Okay, No signs of anything wrong with his brain." Stephen Said. David Came in with the Labs, "Labs are back, His State is becoming worse." Blake sighed Knowing exactly what that Meant. Amy Spoke now, "He'll get the heart right, He's gonna get the heart? He has to. You'll Sign the papers that he'll be put at the top of the list-" She was quickly Interrupted by Blake's cold tone.

"Those are the Kind of things I would tell a doctor, and right now you are not a doctor, you are a Visitor." She said, her eyes showing how furious she actually was. "What?.." Amy asked in complete and utter disbelief. "You will no longer be a doctor in this Hospital until I say Otherwise. Now Step away from Mr. Cooper and let Malia Take over." She Ordered.

Malia came over slowly taking it away from Amy as Blake Glared at her slightly, making the rest of the Interns Shrink underneath her Gaze.

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

Blake told Stephen to carry on with the rest of his Surgeries while she went to talk to the Chief of the hospital about this certain Incident without exposing her Interns for doing this.

She asked the Chief about a Hypothetical Question with the exact same Situation, In which she explained that Mr. Cooper move to the top of the list and receive the heart Immediately but ordered that whoever did that was to be in her Office for Intense Consequences for endangering a Patients Life.

Blake nodded, "Of course, Ma'am."

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

Which ended with the Interns getting yelled at by the chief and forced to not even go near a Surgical case unless they fessed up on who did it and to share one single Patient to give her what she needed.

Later on Blake was sitting at the Nurses Station, Checking on different Patient files and Images, as Stephen was Charting, "So, How bad was their Punishments?" Stephen asked with a Snide Smirk on his face. Blake sighed, Shaking her head. "The Chief said no more surgeries until they confess that Amy did it and they had to share one singular Patient." She snorted, Searching up another Patient file.

Malia was now delivering Labs due to Blake's Interns being Punished for their Stupid decisions, "Here you go Blake, Imaging is back for Ms. Collins." She said handing her the Tablet. Blake looked it over smiling to herself, "Oh.. I could use a little Great Neuro Case." She muttered. Stephen Looked up Suddenly Interested, Raising his eyebrow, "Oh no Mister, You have your own Solo Neuro Surgery in 30 Minutes, you need to get ready for that, I've got this one." She said, smirking to herself before teasing him. "Besides this woman has a nail in her head." She said, before rushing off.

Stephen Chuckled to himself, "Well Played, Doctor Shepherd."

[lightphieric]

Virtue's Last Record: The Border

(Ok quick context: In order to get myself out of a writing rut, I decided to finish up these little pieces I started writing a while ago that are kind of my VLR and ZTD versions of the pieces I wrote for 999 week. Since they're short I thought I'd post them directly to Tumblr in addition to AO3, like I did in September)

To Akane, the inside of the armor is its own bizarre world. Title from the Wandersong OST CWs: None AO3

Akane is no stranger to that threshold between death and the living world. She spent nine years a phoenix, perpetually burning until she rose fighting from the flames. These past forty-five years, she’s been a zombie, casually sharing a universe with her own beheaded corpse in its desert grave. She has not known what it is to be fully alive since childhood, and as the third Nonary Game approached, she settled comfortably onto that delicate tightrope once more.

What she doesn’t expect is what it feels like to occupy the edge of her identity.

She has always been Akane Kurashiki, to those who mattered, at least. To those few, to Aoi, Carlos, Sigma, Akane Kurashiki was special and powerful. A half-living miracle. Kyle Klim is all of those things, as well, even if he never wanted to admit it, and even if he does look pitiful as Luna carries his sleeping, unarmored body to the garden. Akane has heard his woes, listened sympathetically as he screamed at her about being nothing more than a cheap replacement for his father. He is wrong to feel that way.

But even with his existing insecurities, Kyle will be spared from confronting new ones today; the amnesia will make sure of that, clouding his mind even before it is decided who should be wearing the armor.

For Akane, the duality strikes the moment she pulls on the first boot. Kyle’s leg is already inside. Not taking up physical room, no; it doesn’t feel like trying to squeeze her own dainty foot in besides his hulking one. But she feels the idea of his leg, the heaviness of his footfalls, the way he tends to shuffle his soles gloomily along the ground as he walks.

The same happens with each new piece of armor she dons. Kyle’s stomach growls as she locks on the chestplate, reminding her of how little he has let himself eat these past few months. His fists clench under the gauntlets, angry at nothing in particular. And the helmet swims with confusion as he fails to remember who he truly is.

He is scared, in a way Akane hasn’t been since she was twelve.

It would be silly let herself be affected by these phantom feelings. She still has vivid memories of Phi and Sigma incapacitating Dio and rescuing her, and until those start to fade, then Akane is alive and the one inhabiting the suit, while Kyle sleeps peacefully and safely. She will be monitoring the Nonary Game from the inside, directing it towards its intended conclusion. No one has anything to fear.

Of course, that stabbing pain in her chest still exists. Until Sigma and Phi choose to explore the crew quarters, Akane is dead. Flashes of her own demise are nothing new to her, but she has never experienced a version of the world where she is fully nonexistent. Kyle is forcing that to happen.

The participants in the Nonary Game are rightfully afraid here, as the benevolent force that would have guided them is dead. They are abandoned, and they feel this way accordingly. This is how her games make her victims feel. It isn’t good. She recognizes the fear in Clover even as she sleeps, curled up fetally on the AB Room floor; she is so attuned to being used that she can already tell something is wrong.

Of course, even if this were enough to make Akane question her behavior, it’s far too late to turn back now. When the time comes, she scoops Clover into her arms and leaps from the hatch, into the throng of participants, all of whom it is necessary to make suffer.

They all react with shock and suspicion to her robotic appearance. The hurt and embarrassment that washes over her in response is mostly her own, as she always strides to make her appearance as pleasing as she can. Kyle doesn’t seem to care so much, at least not the part of him that she can feel. This breaks Akane’s heart more than anything else, that he’s so used to looking monstrous. Still assuming she’ll survive this game, she makes a vow to do something very nice for Kyle afterwards. Perhaps she’ll get him a gift. As she desperately pretends to be him, she tries to take advantage of her closeness to his self to divine what he would like the best.

Their consciousnesses split too soon. And unfortunately, Akane is so far removed from herself that all she can think is that Kyle deserves a nice new bracelet.