#do I need to clarify that I’m the one being torn apart and wounded

[drabbles-of-writing]

You’ll Be Okay

AO3

fourth owl fight attack! This one’s prompt was “Hunter and Luz being siblings” and I went a whole Direction with it

Summary: The Emperor was defeated. Amongst the ruins of a half-destroyed castle, Luz finds Hunter. While waiting for the others to find them, Hunter's shields finally fall apart. After all, at the end of the day, he was just a kid.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Luz found Hunter in the wreckage of the Emperor’s Castle, using his staff (the one that had Rascal perched atop, not the other, artificial staff. That one had been snapped in two) to support himself, his other hand clutching his side.

“There you are!” She breathed, rushing forward.

Hunter flinched at the noise and whirled around, lifting his staff to aim it before falling over at the lack of support. He hissed and curled up on the ground, eyes squeezed shut.

Luz faltered for a moment before continuing towards him, albeit much slower and cautiously now.

“Hunter?” She called, crouched down low.

He cracked open a wild, unfocused eye. It took a moment till it landed on her, and a few more until she could start to see him process who she was.

“Hey,” He croaked, slowly raising his head. “I was beginning to think I’d gotten rid of you for good.” He chuckled, before he was wracked with coughs and curled back in on himself.

“Oh please, you’ll have to try way harder than that.” Luz huffed, though the forced teasing in her tone didn’t work much. “Are you…okay?”

“Take a wild guess,” Hunter muttered, bracing one hand on the ground as the other stayed wrapped around his side.

And yeah, in hindsight, he really wasn’t. His white cloak was ratty and torn all over, the piece of under armor he often used barely hanging on by one strap. He was covered in gashes, bruises, grime, and who-knows-what. His breathing was ragged and raspy, and she figured that, yeah, when one is used as a living portal-booster they aren’t going to come out of it okay.

“Alright, fair, bad question.” Luz admitted, inching closer and placing a hand on his leg. “You need any help?”

“If I say no,” Hunter wheezed, eyeing her hand for a moment. “You’ll help me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Luz shrugged. “But it’s polite to ask.”

“Never stopped you before,” He rasped with the faintest of smiles, slowly leaning back until he was flat on the ground, staring up at the sky.

“Need a minute?” Luz asked, scooting until she was sitting right beside him.

“Or three,” Hunter agreed, shutting his eyes. “Everything kinda hurts.”

“Then rest, someone will find us eventually.” Luz assured. “I…may have run off to find you when I realized you weren’t with the others.” She admitted sheepishly, rubbing her neck.

“If they accuse me of kidnapping, I’ll break your shins.” Hunter threatened, though his tone never changed, and his eyes stayed shut.

“Understood,” Luz smiled, watching as Rascal transformed back into his usual self, chirping as he settled himself on Hunter’s stomach.

And the two remained silent for what felt like hours, though Luz was willing to bet it had been no more than ten minutes. She just looked out at the rubble around them, aching all over as a light wind breezed by. Had she not seen Hunter’s ear flicking periodically with the wind tickling it, she probably would’ve thought he’d died then. His breathing barely even disturbed Rascal, which she had to wonder if he was doing on purpose or not.

“When are you leaving?”

Luz blinked, turning her head down, finding Hunter had cracked open a single eye and was peering up at her.

“Huh?”

“The portal, you went through all this trouble to go back to the human realm, right?” He said. “So, when are you leaving?”

“Oh, uh,” Luz swallowed, shoving down the memory of standing before blinding car lights, reaching for a hand she phased right through. “I...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Hunter repeated, giving her an incredulous look. “You went through all this trouble--”

“Okay, in my defense, this goes a little beyond getting the portal back, there were other reasons.” Luz said, waving her arms to the ruins around them.

“Still,” Hunter braced his arms under him, grunting with the effort as he pushed himself upright, disturbing Rascal. “Last I checked, the portal’s fine. How come you’re not making a beeline for it?”

“Uh, because I need to make sure my friends are okay?” Luz said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world, which, really, it should’ve been. “I’m not gonna leave right away. I need a day or two to make sure everyone's alright and figure out what they’re gonna do now.”

“Go back to normal?” Hunter raised a brow.

“An entire government was just dismantled, Hunter.” Luz deadpanned. “My fantasy books never really got to the part of explaining how they fixed a toppled tyrannical way of ruling, but knowing the Boiling Isles, I doubt this is gonna be easy.”

“Let the people good with politics handle that,” Hunter said casually, slumping back down on the ground and throwing an arm over his face. “They’re not gonna listen to a teenage human and her band of misfits for a new government, anyway.”

“Lilith might be good at figuring that out,” Luz hummed, ignoring him. “She has experience. Raine, too, technically.”

“If you put Lilith in charge, every witch and demon in the Isles will riot in the street.” 

“We’re not putting her in charge,” Luz stressed, appalled at the thought. “Just guiding people. See? This is why I need to stay for a little bit, I gotta know what's gonna happen!”

“Do you actually want to go back, or was this all a game of keepsies?” Hunter muttered.

“Of course I--I’m not arguing with you, you’re wounded.” Luz said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

“I'm not in that bad of shape."

“Really now,” Luz said drawled, reaching out a hand towards his chest before Hunter batted it away.

"You trying to hurt me more?" Hunter grumbled, rolling onto his side and wincing with the movement.

"I don't think you could get any more hurt if you tried." Luz deadpanned.

“I’ve had worse than this.” Hunter wheezed out, Rascal fluttering around him anxiously.

“Worse than a living portal puppet...thing?” Luz lifted a brow disbelievingly.

“...alright, fair,” Hunter sighed, a wheezing, noisy one as he shook his head. “This is probably the worst. New record.”

“I don’t want to know what the old record was.” Luz cringed as Hunter rolled onto his back once more, wincing with the movement. “You think the worst of it came from the portal, or being thrown around like a ragdoll by an eldritch abomination?”

“Portal thing,” Hunter said, eyes shut. “I’m used to…” He trailed off, mouth clicking shut as he refused to finish the sentence.

Used to Belos, Luz reasoned, was likely where he was going with that. She gazed at him sadly, his hands clenched into fists over his stomach now, Rascal nudging at his shoulder.

“He didn’t make it, right?” Hunter asked softly, and she didn’t ask him to clarify who.

“I don’t think so, we didn’t find anything.” Luz answered. “We could go check where we last saw him...if you’d like.”

“...later,” Hunter sighed, raising his hands to press the heels of them up against his eyes, fingers gripping his hair. “I don’t wanna think about it much right now.”

“I’m,” Luz started, fiddling with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, about all this.” She said, because she didn’t know what else she could say.

“No, you’re not.” Hunter scoffed bitterly. “You’re glad it’s over.”

“I am,” Luz agreed. “That doesn’t mean I’m still not sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you, I get it.” Hunter said, agonizingly gently. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not--Dios,” Luz muttered as she ran a hand over her face. “Me olvidé de lo reprimido que estabas. You are my friend,” Luz shoved lightly at his shoulder, and he jerked and raised one hand away to give her an offended look. “And as your friend, should the stars align, I am sorry that this terrible situation happened to you, because I care about your well being.” She said, perhaps a few notches more aggressively than intended.

“...I’m your friend?” Hunter blinked, removing his other hand.

“Yes! Yes, you’re my friend! Are we seriously still on that page?” Luz demanded, almost yanking at her hair. She raised a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “If you start protesting about all the times you were a jerk to me before you switched sides, I’m going to hit you.”

“...you have a very mean way of expressing concern.” Hunter settled on, voice small.

“Because you,” Luz poked at his forehead and got a growl in return. “Can’t get it through your thick head that other people can care about you. Newsflash, buddy. Eda’s already talking to Hooty about making another room for you.”

“She what--”

“So I’m sorry that the castle is destroyed, and I’m sorry that your uncle is gone, because you cared about him.” Luz continued before he could butt-in. “And about that whole...Grimwalker thing, which is a whole other pile of messed up things, but you get the point.” She waved her hands around. “You...you deserved better.” She finally finished, realizing she’d sat up at one point to face him, and now leaned back on her knees.

Hunter stared at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. Rascal had crawled his way up and onto his shoulder now, looking between the two of them.

Eventually, the tension left his body, and he lay on his side, cheek pressed into the dirty, rocky ground. Rascal jolted, fluttering up onto his head.

“He was awful,” Hunter mumbled, like he was trying to convince someone.

“I know,” Luz sighed, looking down at him. “But you loved him.” She said, and Hunter didn’t dispute it. 

“...m’sorry,” Hunter got out, which sounded like a shuttering gasp, as though his throat was closing up.

“What for?” Luz tilted her head.

“You want the list?” Hunter managed, his snark falling short as he rapidly blinked his eyes. “I’d ask why you care at all, but you’re Luz.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“It worked out this time, didn’t it?” Luz said, offering a tiny smile as she held out a hand, just short of touching him.

He eyed her hand for a moment, then his gaze flicked across her face, searching. He must’ve seen something, because the little resolve he had left broke, and he reached for Luz’s hand and gripped onto it far more forcefully than needed.

She hoisted him upright, and barely had a moment to spare until he was grabbing onto her, hands fisted in the back of her shirt as he pressed his face into her shoulder. She froze for just a moment before she returned the hug, forcing herself not to protest against the tight grip along her back, definitely going to form nasty bruises later.

She saw that the white of his cloak was covered in dirt and blood all across his back, from injuries he must’ve sustained, though most of it looked dried now. She wondered if it hurt for him to lay on his back like that, and avoided disturbing those wounds as he trembled in her arms.

He shook with cries that were barely choked back, and she pressed the side of her face against his head. Rascal warbled sadly and nuzzled into his head from where he was perched in his hair.

Luz murmured words she couldn’t remember for the life of her, rubbing small circles across the uninjured parts of his back. He only pressed closer, clinging desperately like she’d vanish if he didn’t, and Luz had to put in effort to not fall back.

It might’ve been a few minutes, it might’ve been longer, but gradually, Hunter ran out of steam. His strained cries became muffled sniffles, slumping against Luz like dead weight.

“Sorry,” Hunter hiccupped again, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I think I got your cloak dirty.”

“It was already pretty messy.” Luz assured. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Hunter muffled, hunching his shoulders. 

“Okay,” Luz said simply. “We’ve got time.”

“And ain’t that a new concept,” Hunter mumbled, raising his head slightly to instead rest his chin on top of Luz’s shoulder, and she could already feel him wiping at his face. “Having time. I didn’t think I’d make it past nineteen, if I was lucky.” He sniffled, voice hoarse and raspy.

“That…” Luz frowned. “Yeah, we’re gonna make you see someone for all of that.”

“Make me?” Hunter repeated, a faint, fading amusement to his tone.

“We have our ways.” Luz said with a hint of pride. “You’d be surprised.”

Hunter remained quiet for a moment, and Luz watched the old, ripped tapestries in the rubble wave when the wind went by them. She wondered if Eda would be stealing any of those as a trophy, and how long it’d take before Lilith took it away from her.

“Are you going to come back?” Hunter asked, quietly, curiously, without any hint of pleading in his tone, which she was quite impressed by. The subtle grip around her sides tightening just an inch gave him away, though.

“Of course,” Luz said, not needing clarification on what he had meant. “I couldn’t leave this place forever, not even if I wanted to.” She said, and prayed she wasn't lying.

“Yeah, you couldn’t.” Hunter snorted, slowly pulling back as he wiped up the last of his face, though it was still pretty damp as he faced Luz. “They’d be insufferable trying to get you back.” He said, frazzled hair hanging into his eyes.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t put in an effort, then?” Luz scoffed good-naturedly. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”

“Well now how am I supposed to respond to that?” Hunter demanded in a whine. “I say yes, and you start getting melodramatic and bringing up pointless random acts of kindness like I’m a liar. I say no, and you get all starry-eyed and unbearable.” He complained.

Luz laughed, despite it all. Hunter rolled his eyes and sat back, looking up at Rascal on his head like they were in on some joke she was missing. He chuckled along with her and shook his head, ears twitching down.

“You’re impossible,” He huffed, though he bore a smile.

“I know,” Luz grinned. “And what’s it say about you, still caring anyway?”

“Don’t push it.” Hunter warned, shoving her shoulder as he leaned further back, her only giggling in response.

A call sounded off in the distance, and they both snapped their heads in the direction of the sound. Hunter’s ears pricked high, the sudden shift in personality from relaxed to alert being another slightly alarming thing to put on Luz’s list of traits Hunter had. 

The call sounded again, and Luz could recognize the sound of Eda’s voice. She smiled and stood, untangling herself from Hunter as she peered out at the terrain, seeing a figure off in the distance, and if she squinted enough, she could see a few more not too far away.

“Over here!” Luz shouted, hands cupped around her mouth.

“Ow,” Hunter winced, rubbing at his ears.

“Oh, are they sensitive?” Luz worried, lowering her voice.

“Just a bit, I think I had a concussion earlier.” Hunter said, shaking his head to clear it.

“You’re seeing a healer,” Luz said firmly, looking back out to the figures in the distance. “Cover your ears.”

Hunter grumbled something about Luz being dramatic, covering his ears as Luz continued waving her hands and hollering to the others. It took a moment, but she saw one of them break away before the others followed suit, and Eda’s wild nest of hair could be recognizable from anywhere.

“Are you ready to make formal introductions?” Luz grinned down at Hunter, who slowly drew his hands away from his ears.

“Do I have to?” Hunter whined. “I could just live off the land, making a tent isn’t that hard. I know how to steal.”

“Nice try,” Luz lightly pushed at his head. “Unless you’ve got a proper living space, you’re staying in the Owl House.”

“I’m sixteen, no place in Bonesborough will give me an apartment unless I’m rich.” Hunter complained.

“Precisely,” Luz said simply, offering a hand to him. “Wanna try standing up?”

“I guess,” Hunter grumbled, taking her hand and letting her pull him to his feet.

He stumbled for a moment, hissing and favoring his right foot, and would’ve fallen right back over if Luz didn’t stop his fall with her body, hanging onto his arm to steady him.

“Yeah, that’s sprained. Or twisted, don’t really feel like checking.” Hunter gritted out, Rascal cheeping from his head before flying off, transforming into a staff that Hunter was quick to grab and then lean on, taking his weight off Luz.

“Viney can take a look at it, I’m pretty sure she came with us.” Luz said, grabbing Hunter’s hand and slinging it over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s meet them halfway. You’re lighter than a sack of lumpy potatoes, it’s not hard to carry you.”

“I resent that,” Hunter growled, though he let her do as she wished. “You're just weirdly strong.”

“You live in the Boiling Isles, you're telling me you're not?” Luz scoffed, beginning to walk with Hunter, who used his staff occasionally to push aside heaps of rock or try and limp himself along.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a frame of reference.” Hunter drawled, looking up, his ears pinning back against his head when he could make out who was approaching in the distance. Luz could now see that King was sitting atop Eda’s shoulder, too.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Luz said, noting Hunter’s nerves suddenly spiking. “Are you ready to meet everyone, outside of, you know, portal mishaps?” 

Hunter swallowed, looking down at Luz with something that might’ve been fear swirling in his eyes. He searched her face, closing his eyes and taking in half a breath, anything more causing him to cough, exhaling as he opened his eyes again, facing off towards where the others were gathered, the fear replaced with determination.

“Yeah,” He said, clearing his throat when his voice started to shake. “Yeah, I think so.”

Luz smiled, bumping her body against his, and he looked at her with a smile of his own that might just have been hopeful.

She turned back to call a greeting to her friends as Eda was already scolding her for running off the moment she was in earshot, King wailing something about being worried. Hunter gave them his best crooked smile, despite his earlier claims, insisting she’d only come to drag him out of the rubble.

Yeah, Luz thought as she watched Eda and King pause and look Hunter over, easily slipping into mocking him for how beat up he looked, like nothing had ever gone sideways, and it was any other day in the Isles. They’d be okay.

[1-800iamhispanic]

READERS WARNING⚠️: This chapter contains explicit fighting and gore sequences, as well as adult language and sexual references. It may be offensive to some readers.

CHAPTER FOUR: TREVOR

He had left immediately after his conversation with Alucard. That was early this morning, and he had been traveling for about five hours now with still no sign of any attacks or vampires. He sighed as his horse continued to trot through the forest.

His back ached and his legs were beginning to cramp. "Whoaa," he tugged onto the reins and the horse neighed but stopped. "Maybe we can rest for a bit," he said as he got off the horse, his bones popping as he finally stretched, the patted the horse's neck. "Immortality looks good right about now, huh? No need to worry about old age or sore muscles," he smirked at the horse who only snorted as a response.

Trevor's grin slowly disappeared, "Yeah, I wouldn't want to live longer than needed either," he said as he tied the reins of the horse to a tree branch, and began to walk away from the horse.

In his walk he kept thinking of his conversation with Alucard. How he should be with Sypha at this moment, enjoying and helping build the new town. Sypha. How happy she had become since their victory. Her growing womb swelling certain areas that were his favorite, and as if it were any more possible, making her glow with absolute beauty. The sex was even different now, Trevor thought. That made him smirk remembering what they had done last night. Twice.

He sighed and shook his head not wanting to distract himself from his current task. Hunting.

Damn you, Alucard. How dare he! Trevor thought as he stopped walking. "This is for them!" He raised his arms up showcasing the empty forest around him. The birds were chirping, the sun was still out, everything was peaceful.

He put his arms down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I should go back."

Just as he was about to turn around and head back, he noticed the silence around him. The birds had gone quiet. He continued to pinch the bridge of his nose as if pretending to be thinking tiredly. His eyes slightly opened as he scanned his surroundings. Then he felt it. The hairs on his arm rising and his skin tingle with coldness, just as it did right before a fight.

He turned normally, keeping his head straight ahead to avoid being obvious, and began to walk back to his horse. Trevor held tight onto the handle of the Morning Star whip.

There was a rustle of leaves coming from behind him. Feet running. A branch snapping. The sound of a hissing mouth opening and-

SWOOSH!

CRACK!

THUNK!

Trevor turned quickly, swaying his whip off the dead corpse. He had struck him clean down the center of the vampire's face, which now split open on the forest floor.

Trevor listened for a moment in silence. The wind blew towards him and that's when he caught the scent. "I'd get this over with rather than wait it out," he shouted. Silence.

Trevor moved passed the split body closer to the smell in the air of blood. Not from the vampire he just killed, but of blood that had been days old by now. An iron-like and rotting smell the kind that lingers after a hunt or murder. Movement.

"Don't tell me you're afraid?" He scoffed and couldn't help but grin at that. "What's the point of being an immortal with permanent weapons attached to the gums of your mouth if you can't even- OOF!"

He groaned as immense weight was applied to his chest, right below the rib cage. The vampire had sprung out and slammed Trevor to the floor. He bared his fangs and pressed his foot against Trevor's wrist which held the whip. All the while keeping the rest of his body weight on Trevor's chest.

Trevor gasped for air as he blinked trying to quickly regain consciousness after what just happened. He looked up at the devil who was literally standing on top of him. Oh, I'm going to enjoy killing you he thought.

"That'll be tough, seeing as you won't have hands to kill me with," sneered the vampire. Oh, so Trevor had said it out loud. The vampire raised his left foot but before Trevor could make sense of what was happening, the vampire slammed his foot down hard against Trevor's wrist.

CRACK!

The sound of bones cracking and his own hissing scream bought Trevor back to focus. He groaned and gasped through gritted teeth as he noticed that he had dropped hold of the whip when his wrist popped.

The vampire smirked and tsked at Trevor's deformed hand. "Don't tell me you're afraid?" Teased the vampire.

Trevor clenched his teeth and with his left hand tightened in a fist he punched the vampire's knee on the side as hard as he could. It didn't do much because of the armor he was wearing but it was enough to make him sway. To which Trevor rolled to his upper back, wrapped his legs around the vampire's left leg, one by his hip and another below the crouch and stretched. The vampire staggered unbalanced, which gave Trevor enough time to wrap the Vampire's foot under his armpit and twist it until the ankle snapped and dangled. He grabbed the handle of the Morning Star and staggered up to his feet.

The vampire shrieked, fallen on the floor. He took his silver helmet off and threw it towards Trevor's neck at incredible speed. The razor sharp sides of the metal rotating through the air like knives. Just as Trevor was about to whip the helmet at a different direction, a sword interfered causing the helmet to bounce off and land on the floor.

Alucard moved out of the forest and looked over at Trevor who was cradling his wrist. "That looks different."

Trevor sighed and rolled his eyes, "You should have gotten here five minutes before, and it wouldn't look like this."

"I shouldn't even be here! I should be home, remember?" Alucard raised his brow as he turned his attention back to the vampire who began crawling away.

Trevor cracked his whip and slashed a clean cut through the vampires left wrist. Blood trickling down the open wound. "Speaking of home, why aren't you there?" He broke his gaze only momentarily to glance at Alucard who was already glaring at him.

"You aren't seriously asking me that? I just saved your fucking life!"

The vampire cradled his injured arm much like Trevor was doing. He threw his whip back, "A bit dramatic aren't you? I had it-"

he stroked his whip at the vampire's right hand, slicing it clean off. "-under control," he finished.

The vampire shouted as Alucard stayed within the shadows of the trees but continued to creep in closer, his sword by his side. "Oh! So that's what control looks like," he glanced at Trevor's wrist.

Trevor scoffed as he brought his whip back. "Don't you ever stop talking?"

Alucard rolled his eyes as he grabbed hold of the vampire's hair and yanked his head back to see his face. Trevor looked down at the vampire. His face dirty from sweat, blood and days of travel. He glanced at the uniform, the metal and the colors. "I've seen this armor before," he stated.

"What are soldiers from Styria doing here? We know you're not the first ones to be lurking in the forest," asked Alucard.

The vampire only grunted. "How many of you are there in this area?" Asked Trevor impatiently.

"You can kill me now or wait until later, but you'll not hear a thing from me," spat the soldier.

"Then let's see how long you'll last," echoed Alucard as his sword flew through the vampires knee.

"No, I don't think that even hurt him, let me try," teased Trevor as he grabbed hold of the hilt of the sword. He placed the tip of the sword just below the crouch of the vampire and added pressure.

"You know I've actually never sliced anyone in half starting from the bottom. So, I might have to take a few breaks before continuing," he threatened through clenched teeth.

"And seeing as how he's unable to use the strength of both hands, this will take a while," clarified Alucard.

The vampire only turned his head avoiding eye contact. "The witch will die. Along with the bastard of your spawn and everyone else. She 'll make sure you live long enough to see it all burn and die," grinned the vampire. He sounded nervous and desperate, but he managed to laugh and keep a smirk on his face.

Trevor's hand trembled with fury, his face twitched with rage and he felt his blood boil throughout his body. In one quick swipe he managed to split the vampire open from bottom to top. Blood pouring and gushing in all directions until finally the body lay torn apart on the floor, the blood pooling around what was left of him. Alucard moved the sword out of Trevor's hand with his mind and looked at the dead bodies.

The two of them stood motionless for only a moment until finally Trevor composed himself. He inhaled deeply and turned to Alucard. "You need to go back immediately. Find Sypha and protect her. Protect everyone, I'll be there as quickly as I can, if I don't return...then I'm dead. In which case you need to be prepared for whatever this is-" he pointed at the dead vampires.

"He wanted a quick death Trevor, he knew how to trigger you," Alucard tried to calm him down. Trevor was already walking back to his horse. "These are Carmilla's soldiers! Why are they here, Alucard? They found the castle, they found us! Now they want war," he untied the reins from the branch and braced himself as he climbed onto the horse.

Alucard quickly ran a hand under the horse's reins, keeping it from moving. "Let me at least, set that back for you," he insisted. Trevor bit his lip and sighed.

Alucard snapped the wrist back in place and Trevor winced in pain. "FUCKING HELL!"

Alucard nodded. "There's some things that might be broken but it isn't bad-"

"That's because their not your bones," grunted Trevor.

Alucard smiled and let go of the reins, stepping aside. "Ride as fast as you can, I'll be back at the Castle. If anything happens look out for smoke, we'll signal you if there's danger."

Trevor took hold of his reins and nodded, "She's going to bloody kill me."

Alucard chuckled and raised a golden brow, "Probably. I don't know how she stands you." Then in a blink of an eye Alucard was gone, on his way back home.

Trevor clicked his tongue and kicked his heel to the sides of the horse, prompting him to trot and then run. "Neither do I," he muttered to himself before he continued his journey back home.

——————————

(Writer’s note 📝: It’s not easy to have my stories reached out to more readers, so if you could be so kind as to reblog this for more people to read it, I’d greatly appreciate it. I hardly know if anyone does ready my stories, but if you are reading this now, and enjoying it then I’m very much happy. Please feel free to leave a comment, message me or create a fanart based on my writings. 🖤)

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 26)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2237

Warnings: angst and language throughout, medical complications, blood, fighting, surgery

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamyfears, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

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

"Shit!" Christine cried out. 

"Y/N? Y/N?" Stephen tried, but you were out cold. "Help her."

"But your chest. It's wide open--"

"Help her!" he demanded.

"Jeez, alright! Alright!" She went out into the hall and pulled in another bed. She called out for a doctor and a few nurses to help you onto the bed before telling them to leave and get her two suture kits. 

By the time they returned, the other doctor had cut your pant leg off and was working to clean the wound and assess it.

"Some kind of foreign blade sliced all the way through her leg." 

"Yeah, he was stabbed in the chest," she informed before starting to work on him. 

Stephen apologized to Christine for the way he treated her and she asked what was going on and he explained his situation to her before finishing the sutures. 

"Is she almost done?" Stephen asked the other doctor as he started to get up.

"What? Where are you going?" Christine asked.

"Late for a cult meeting. Just help me up and help me get dressed." 

As she helped him with his robes, the doctor answered Stephen's question. "She'll be alright, but she's lost a hell of a lot of blood. Her pants are beyond soaked in blood. I think she has a concussion," he said, recalling when he looked at your pupils. "She needs to stay overnight. How the hell is she alive?"

Christine looked from you to Stephen. The answer was clear - you had stayed alive for him. 

“She needs to stay here, Stephen,” Christine insisted. “I’ll take care of her.”

You suddenly gasped awake. 

Stephen was at your side instantly. “Hey there,” he greeted, his face painted with love and compassion. “Hey, you lost a lot of blood so they want to keep you overnight, but I’ve got to go back to the sanctum. I’ll come visit you as soon as--”

“What? No. Fuck no. I’m coming with you,” you insisted.

“You can’t. You need to stay here.” 

“Why?”

“Well, first of all I’m not done stitching you up,” the doctor that was working on you said. 

“Well, I see three doctors in this room. Maybe someone can stitch the back while the other stitches the front, but I am coming with you Stephen, like it or not. I still have the sling ring and you’ll have to tear it off my body to get it.” You glared at him and he held up his hands in surrender. 

Christine gave a look to the other doctor before she jumped in and you turned on your side, letting the doctors work on you from either side. 

The second you were entirely stitched up, you and Stephen made for the portal. He said his goodbyes to Christine as you stood off to the side, letting it happen. He showed her the portal before saying he really had to go. You stepped inside, and offered your hand. Once inside, you closed the portal and passed the ring to him.

He encountered the man that had attacked you and checked his pulse - he was dead. Stephen gave you a look of dread before reaching up to grab the cloak. It attached itself to him and the two of you continued walking down the hall.

"Strange! Y/N! You're okay. 

"A relative term, but yeah, I’m okay."

"The Cloak of Levitation. It came to you."

The Ancient One suddenly said, "No minor feat. It’s a fickle thing."

"He’s escaped," Stephen informed. 

The Ancient One asked, "Kaecilius?" 

"Yeah. He can fold space and matter at will."

"He folds matter outside the mirror dimension? In the real world?"

"Yeah."

"How many more?" The Ancient One asked. 

"Two. I stranded one in the desert."

"And the other?"

"His body was in the hall. Master Drumm was in the foyer."

Mordo replied, "He’s been taken back to Kamar-Taj."

The Ancient One informed, "The London Sanctum has fallen. Only New York and Hong Kong remain now to shield us from the Dark Dimension. You defended the New York Sanctum from attack. With its Master gone, it needs another, Master Strange."

Your eyes went to Stephen, analyzing his face, his response. 

"No," he said defiantly as he turned towards her. "It is Dr. Strange. Not Master Strange, not Mr. Strange, Doctor Strange. When I became a doctor, I swore an oath to do no harm. And I have just killed a man! I’m not doing that again. I became a doctor to save lives, not take them."

Sympathy hit your heart quickly as you saw him be torn apart by the actions he just had to take. Stephen might've been a bit cold, a bit uncaring in his bedside manner, but the fact remained that he did save lives and he did it well. And it was clear now that he didn't ever want to fail in saving a life, let alone be the reason for taking one. 

"You become a doctor to save one life above all others -- your own," The Ancient One Quipped. 

"Still seeing through me, are you?" Stephen asked as he got closer to her. 

"I see what I’ve always seen -- your over-inflated ego. You want to go back to the delusion that you can control anything, even death, which no one can control. Not even the great Doctor Stephen Strange."

"Not even Dormammu? He offers immortality."

"It’s our fear of death that gives Dormammu life. He feeds off it."

"Like you feed on him? You talk to me about controlling death. Well, I know how you do it. I’ve seen the missing rituals from The Book of Cagliostro."

"Measure your next words very carefully, doctor," The Ancient One warned.

"Because you might not like them?" he challenged.

"Because you may not know of what you speak," she clarified.

"What is he talking about?" Mordo asked, and your eyes were simply going from each talking person. He hadn't divulged this with you but now that he had, it was starting to make a bit of sense and you felt... betrayed. 

"I’m talking about her long life, the source of her immortality. She draws power from the Dark Dimension to stay alive."

"That’s not true," Mordo defended.

"I’ve seen the rituals and worked them out. I know how you do it," Stephen informed.

She didn't seem to respond to this, all she said was, "Once they regroup, the zealots will be back. You’ll need reinforcements."

"She is not who you think she is," Stephen said as he started to walk away.

"You don’t have the right to say that. You have no idea of the responsibility that rests upon her shoulders."

"No, and I don’t want to know."

"You’re a coward," Mordo said and this made you straighten up, ready to fight him. 

"Because I’m not a killer?" Stephen questioned, turning around, pressing him for an answer.

"These zealots will snuff us all out, and you can muster the strength to snuff them out first?"

"What do you think I just did?" Stephen asked, his voice getting volumes louder.

"You saved your own life! And then whined about it like a wounded dog."

"When you would have done it so easily?" he challenged.

"You have no idea the things I’ve done…And the answer is yes. Without hesitation."

"Even if there’s another way?"

"There is no other way," Mordo vowed.

"You lack imagination," he accused.

"No, Stephen. You lack a spine."

"Hey, we just had to fight for our lives here and we had no way to prepare ourselves. No one told us what we were up against here. You left Stephen defenseless," you accused. 

"We gave Stephen all the necessary tools to arm himself, but he couldn't because he was too busy arming his ego, as always," Mordo replied.

You were about to lay into him when Stephen turned to you.

"He's actually right. He was right all along. They did give me the tools, but I couldn't see them because of you." He turned to you, a sort of realization in his voice. 

"What?" you asked. 

"I was distracted by you. They warned me about that, but because of you, I couldn't focus on my work. I had to entertain you. I'm not a baby sitter. You knew we were coming here to fix my hands, but you had to make it about being soulmates again. Well guess where that got us, Y/N? In the hospital. I couldn't even focus on fighting for my life because I was too busy concerning myself with you. That won't happen again. All you've done since I met you was distract me from my one goal - getting my hands fixed and getting my job back."

You stood there, shocked to your core. 

How could he be saying this? This couldn't be true. None of this could be true. He loved you, he said he did. That couldn't have changed. He wouldn't have lied about that.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you avoided his haunting gaze. "You don't mean that."

"I don't say things I don't mean. When have you ever known me to hide exactly how I am feeling?" he challenged, knowing full well all of you in the room knew the truth. 

"Never," you whispered. 

"Right. This time is no different. You've held me back, and I won't let it happen any longer."

"Stephen--"

"Now, please. I don't like having to fight with you to get you to leave me alone. I've done it too many times, it's exhausting. So please, do me a favor, and get the hell away from me, and get out of my life." 

If he'd slapped you in the face, it would've hurt less.

He opened a portal and you saw your bedroom at Kamar-Taj. "Feel free to grab your things. You barged into my life, I suspect you can walk out of it just fine?" He raised his eyebrows at you and it took everything in you to keep from sobbing on the spot. 

For fear of talking, you just nodded and stepped through the portal. You turned to look at him, but as soon as your eyes made contact, he looked as if he hated you and he closed the portal, making you collapse on the bed in tears. 

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

After you gathered your senses, you packed all your things. You approached Wong in the library. You told him that if Stephen did anything dangerous, or reckless, or even if he went back home to contact you. He could tell you'd been crying, he looked down at your phone number curiously, but  ultimately decided to say nothing. He just agreed to call you. 

Wong helped you get a taxi to the airport and you got the first flight that would get you home. 

All you could think of was the way this felt like when Charles disappeared. That heartbreak. That crushing feeling on your chest. The way you couldn't breathe. The feeling of not knowing what you'd done wrong. 

How had everything fallen apart so quickly? Just yesterday you two were happy, blissful. You had both he and Charles. 

Now, you were returning home with one soulmate rejecting you. 

How? How coudld he do this to you? He seemed so in love. The way he held you. The way he woke up beside you. The way he stared at you as you worked. The way he did anything you asked of him, even if sometimes it took a bit of coaxing or fighting. The way he worshipped you physically. The way he finally seemed to believe in soulmates. 

How could he go from making a romantic date on the beaches of Bora Bora, and surprising you with dances in your bedroom, and teasing you at dinner time about how you ate your food to... to this. To casting you out as if you were trash after trying to save his life. You risked your life for his and it came so easy for him to tell you to get away.

He finally showed his true colors. He didn't want you. He just wanted his hands fixed. You were blind enough -- stupid enough -- to believe he wanted anything else. He just wanted someone to fill whatever stupid role he needed in his life and you were pathetic enough to do it. 

He used you and you couldn't see it. 

He had told you from the beginning he didn't want this. He wanted the control to choose a mate. Even the Ancient One had seen it. Stephen wanted to control life and death, of course he wanted to control who he loved. Maybe he lied about Christine too, about not loving her any more. 

He was wearing her watch into Nepal. You were just the buddy that tagged along.

That's all you were to him, a dead weight he wanted to rid himself of. 

Finally, you were at the front door of the mansion. You pulled out your key but before you could get it in the hole, the door opened.

Charles stood there, looking pressed and smart as always. 

"Y/N?" he greeted, highly confused as to why you were here without warning. He was thrilled to see you, but you hadn't given word you were coming home.  

You simply fell into his arms and he caught you. The sobs finally hit you, hard, and he held onto you.

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

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[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

TWO DAYS LATER

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE CHAPEL

Placing his hands together, Ealdorman Aegenwulf bowed his head in respect and gently shut his eyes closed, whispering a brief prayer as he stood before the chapel’s great Crucifix.

At the moment, there was no one else in here with him. The chapel was dim and grey due to its enclosed nature, and the only light that managed to seep in was through the circular window that stood aloft the lonely altar.

Strangely enough though, Aegenwulf found a sense of peace in it. He had spent so much time warring with the Danes and battling against his own grief, that the overwhelming silence of the chapel actually provided him with some tranquility.

It was the only place where he could be alone with his thoughts nowadays. Outside of these stone cold walls, everyone always seemed to be watching him; studying him. Waiting to see his next move.

And on top of that, he still had three other children to protect, in spite of losing his eldest. They were young and inexperienced, and less aware of the war’s cruelties than Gareth had been.

It was a responsibility that Aegenwulf wished on no man. The weight of his burdens often felt impossible at times, and the more the tensions began to rise in Wedenscire, the more the ealdorman found himself wondering if any of this was even worth it.

“O, Father,” he said softly, his voice low and desolate, “thou who watches us from the heavens. Forgive me of my sins, and free me of the darkness that troubles my soul. I fear this war has led me astray from the path of righteousness, and I do not wish to deviate from Your grace. Please, deliver unto the dead the paradise they could not find in this world, and protect those who still stand from the evil that would sheathe them. ”

He paused for a moment, trying to keep his composure. “...Guide my son as he finds his way into your kingdom, and embrace him with the peace that was robbed of him in death. Allow him to rest at your side, and eradicate any shadows that should linger in his heart. Teach him not to fear, for I know he is in a far better place now.”

The ealdorman brought his hands closer to his face, muttering one last word. “Soþlice.”

Standing up from the floor, Aegenwulf fell into a profound silence as the lingering echoes of his prayer bounced off the chapel’s walls, filling the air with a solemn chime.

He knew not whether God could actually hear his cries, or if He had any intentions of answering them, but in a time when comfort was so rare to find, Aegenwulf frankly didn’t care.

All he needed was peace. The death of his son had torn him apart with a grief unlike any other he had ever experienced, and as the days rolled by -- minute by minute, hour by hour -- the ealdorman found himself being drained of the tenacity he once held.

It seemed pointless sometimes, to come to this chapel. Very often, Aegenwulf felt as if his prayers fell on deaf ears, and considering how the flames of the war were rising so rapidly, part of him began to wonder if this was all part of God’s plan somehow.

Was there a meaning behind all this? Some sort of higher purpose that was being written in the blood of their fallen soldiers? Did their suffering actually contribute to anything? Or was this all simply a result of man’s nature, and the chaos that humankind often sowed?

He didn’t even know if there was a Heaven at this point. The brutalities between the Saxons and the Danes had become so horrific in the recent years, that Aegenwulf found it more and more difficult to believe that anything pure awaited them beyond their realm.

How could it even be possible for something like that to exist? In a world where death, hatred, and pestilence were so prominent, how was it that something as perfect as Heaven -- or as God Himself -- could’ve been somewhere out there, watching over them?

Aegenwulf didn’t know the answers to these questions, nor where to find them, but for the sake of granting his son the afterlife he deserved, and for preserving his own sanity, the ealdorman decided to not second-guess it. It was the only hope he had anymore, after all. And he did not wish to snuff it out.

“Ealdorman?” Someone suddenly said, drawing the man’s attention away from the altar.

Aegenwulf glanced over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn the rest of his body.

“Hundwerth,” he greeted dourly, recognizing the man’s unscrupulous voice. “Solitude is a luxury in Forangal these days. I would not have it robbed of me.”

The bishop bowed his head apologetically, approaching the ealdorman. “Forgive me for the intrusion, my lord. I know you come here for solace. But I fear there is a much more urgent matter that requires your attention.”

Aegenwulf sighed, returning to his more dutiful temperament. “What is it? And speak plainly, bishop, for I have no desire to run around in semantic circles.”

Hundwerth came to a halt, standing directly in the sliver of light that poured in through the doorway. “Your housecarl, Algar, has returned from his travels. He brings news of the ambush in Ravensthorpe, and awaits you in the throne room.”

“He’s back already?”

“Indeed. He seemed rather confident when he arrived this morning. I assume things went well in Ravensthorpe.”

Aegenwulf stepped away from the altar, addressing the bishop more directly now.

“Assume nothing in war, Hundwerth. I will not rest easy until I know for a fact that those barbarians lie dead in the muck. Are my children aware of this attack?”

Hundwerth shook his head. “No, my lord. They asked a few questions in light of Algar’s absence, but overall, they still seem to be preoccupied with mourning their brother.”

The ealdorman was relieved at the news. “Good. They keep a strong face, but I can see that Gareth’s death has shaken them all. I would not have them burdened by the troubles of this war as well.”

The bishop changed the subject, eager to inform Aegenwulf of the second issue. “There is... one other matter, my lord. And I fear this one will require a much more delicate approach. That is, if you do not wish to alarm all of Forangal and Agenbury at once.”

Aegenwulf didn’t like where this was going. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Hundwerth began pacing around the chapel, lowering his voice as he spoke.

“Your healer, Linette. I noticed she’s been acting rather... odd, recently. Different. Granted, she’s never really been an ordinary woman, but her behavior has shifted over the past two days, and not in a manner that I would consider beneficial.”

“What type of behavior are we talking about, exactly?”

“She’s become distant. Secretive. Perhaps even a little paranoid. I’ve seen her pacing around the castle late at night, and making trips to the infirmary underneath the shadows. She speaks to no one during these mysterious endeavors, and often seems to actively avoid me. It’s almost as if... there’s something she would not have me know.”

The ealdorman shrugged. “So, you wish for me to investigate? Is that it?”

“No, my lord,” Hundwerth corrected. “For I have already taken the liberty of doing that myself. I entered the infirmary this morning whilst Linette was away, and found the most interesting patient lying in one of her beds.”

Aegenwulf grew tired of the bishop’s ramblings. “Get to the point, Hundwerth. What did you see?”

“A Dane, Aegenwulf. Your healer has a Dane in her infirmary, and is tending to his wounds as we speak.”

The ealdorman froze upon hearing that, not entirely sure if he understood Hundwerth correctly.

“A Dane,” he repeated sternly. “My healer is lending her aid to a Dane. Are you certain of this, bishop?”

The other man nodded assuredly. “As certain as I am that the moon will arise in the evening. Though, I should clarify, it was not Linette who brought this pagan into our midst. Based on the information I have gathered thus far, I believe she is helping this Dane at the behest of your daughter, Edlynne.”

Aegenwulf shook his head in frustration. “Oh, Edlynne... that naive girl. She carries the same compassion her mother once did, but I fear her rationality is often overshadowed by it in these situations.”

Hundwerth furrowed his brow in disapproval. “She has also been rather vocal about her interest in the Danes before, I’m afraid. It seems your daughter is drawn to them.”

“That’s because she has not witnessed the same horrors I have. She has not seen the way those savages sacrifice our people to their gods, nor what they do to our women. Edlynne believes the Danes to be misunderstood, and would have me welcome them with open arms. What she does not realize is that I am simply trying to protect her.”

“She is but a child, my lord. She will soon understand the necessity of your iron fist. Just give her time.”

Aegenwulf sighed, crossing his arms. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So, what do you intend to do about this issue concerning Linette? Shall I have the guards remove this pagan from our grounds?”

The ealdorman thought about it for a moment. “No. That won’t be enough. I know Danes. They never stop fighting until their last breath. If we wish to be rid of this man completely, we will need to kill him.”

Aegenwulf began making his way out of the chapel, swiftly heading to the throne room as his cape fluttered behind him.

“I shall speak with Algar and get his opinion on the matter. He has just returned from the very nest of these snakes, and I would like to hear what he has to say before taking any action.”

Hundwerth seemed content with the plan. “A wise approach, my lord. I shall be here in the chapel if you need my assistance. Stay safe in these trying times, for I worry things are only going to get worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE INFIRMARY

Pain. That was all he could feel. 

In the midst of the cold and darkness that currently surrounded him, Sigurd found nothing but its familiar embrace to welcome him as he finally emerged from his slumber, bringing him into an environment he did not expect.

Instead of feeling the warmth of Fólkvangr’s sun-kissed fields, or the bone-biting winds of Helheim’s wintry snows, the only thing Sigurd could detect was the comfort of a soft bed lying beneath his fingertips. 

...He wasn’t dead. Not yet, at least.

The gods had granted him a second chance.

He had been saved by that mysterious man on the shore, and given an opportunity to recover. 

But... what about Eivor? Or Randvi? Or the rest of his clan? Were they still alive, and healing from their wounds just as he was? Or had the Valkyries already escorted them to Odin’s feast, and laid them to rest?

Part of him didn’t even want to think about it, given the circumstances. He had already struggled so much just to survive, that he did not wish to hear if his brother had become a corpse by now. He imagined he was already going to have a difficult enough time trying to regain his strength, but to be entirely alone in this ordeal... the very idea of it made his heart sink.

Forcing his eyes open to a slit, Sigurd squinted as a burst of sunlight flooded his vision, painting everything in the room around him with a disorienting haze.

The only things he could make out were the soft edges of a nearby window from which the light poured through, and the blurry silhouette of what appeared to be a girl accompanying him.

At the moment, she seemed to be unaware of his newly conscious state and simply tended to her own matters, humming quietly under her breath. Her voice sounded fairly younger than Sigurd would’ve expected, and the size of her shadow led him to assume she was no more than a child. Possibly the daughter of whomever rescued him.

Lifting a hand to block the sunlight, Sigurd suddenly felt a sharp sting gripping him in the chest as his wounds strained to keep up with his movement, causing him to let out a faint grunt.

The girl instantly glanced upwards upon hearing the abrupt noise and gasped in surprise, pleased to see that her friend had finally risen from his sleep.

“Oh my goodness...!” She said softly. “You’re actually awake! Can you... can you hear me?”

Sigurd remained silent in response, still trying to get his bearings. 

This girl... she sounded like a Saxon. Though, she clearly wasn’t just any Saxon. Her appearance suggested she may have been some type of noblewoman -- or perhaps, in the service of one -- and the quality of her dress was obviously not something that a commoner would’ve been able to get their hands on.

Her hair was well-groomed and decorated with a few simple braids that stretched down to her back, and a beautiful necklace dangled from around her neck. An heirloom, perhaps?

She spoke with an unusual sense of kindness that Sigurd did not typically receive from her people, and the discretion in her voice only led him to believe that she was in the minority. Was he even welcome in this place?

“C-Can you understand me?” She asked, picking up on Sigurd’s confusion. “I know this must be... strange for you.”

The Norseman blinked a few times, finally able to make some sense of what was going on.

“What...? Where... where am I...? What’s going on?”

The girl’s expression lightened with relief. “So you do speak our tongue. That’s good. You’re in Wedenscire, friend. In the ealdorman’s castle. The infirmary, specifically.”

That took Sigurd by surprise. “...The ealdorman’s castle? Why would an ealdorman save a Norse?”

“Well, he didn’t,” she clarified. “His children did. Me and my brothers brought you back from the nearby town after a fisherman found you washed up on the shore. Normally, we would’ve left you alone, but you would’ve died without a proper healer’s treatment.”

Sigurd took on a more serious demeanor, suddenly growing wary of the girl’s intentions. “So... you are the ealdorman’s daughter, then. And why would you go out of your way to keep me alive? What is it you hope to gain? Information? Secrets?”

The girl shook her head, eager to deny his suspicions. “Oh, no! Nothing like that.”

“Well, you must want something. Or did you simply save me out of the kindness of your own heart?”

She glanced downwards, admittedly a tad embarrassed to confess her motivations.

“...Well, y-yes, actually. I know that may sound incredibly naive of me, but you were dying. And I didn’t have the heart to just... leave you behind. The fact that you’re a Dane--” she quickly corrected herself, “--or a Norse, doesn’t change that. The truth is, I don’t want anything from you. I only wish to see you recover.”

The girl sounded like she was being sincere, but even then, Sigurd’s instincts urged him to keep his guard up regardless.

“...If your words hold truth to them,” he said, “then you have my thanks. I do not remember much from that night, but I know for a fact I would not have survived without your people’s help. Or your own. I owe you.”

The girl relaxed a little bit, hoping to maintain the trust between them.

“Might I ask your name? I’m Edlynne.”

He sat up, his body aching with every movement. “Sigurd.”

“Sigurd...” Edlynne repeated with a smile. “Well, Sigurd, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You’ve been unconscious for two days. If I’m being honest, part of me never expected to see you wake up.”

Sigurd paused at that. “...I’ve been here for two days?”

“Indeed. You were on the brink of death when we found you. It’s a miracle you survived. How do you feel?”

The viking glanced down at his bloodstained bandages. “Better, considering how I was before.”

“That’s good. Do you think you can walk? You sustained quite a few injuries from that night.”

Sigurd shifted his body a bit, testing its limits. “I... believe so. Just give me a moment--”

Interrupting their conversation, a boy suddenly came barging into the infirmary with a panicked expression on his face as he brought his gaze to Edlynne, quickly shutting the door behind him.

He also carried the look of a nobleman and wore a simple yet sophisticated tunic, paired with a short cape wrapped around his shoulders. As for the boy himself, he appeared to be around Edlynne’s age and had hair of the same color -- only his was cut so short that the bottom of his head was nearly bare. A relative of hers, perhaps?

“Sister...!” He said urgently, keeping his voice down. “We--”

His eyes landed on Sigurd, causing him to fade into silence.

Edlynne glanced back and forth between the two of them, unsure of what was going on.

“...Joseph?” She asked, her tone quiet with anxiety. “Are you alright? You seem perturbed.”

Joseph gestured to the viking, his eyes wide with surprise. “He’s awake?”

“Yes. He woke up not too long ago, in fact. We’ve only been speaking for a few moments.” She held an introductory hand up to him. “This is Sigurd. Sigurd, this is my twin brother, Joseph.”

The boy strode further into the room, his actions swift with haste.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not in the mood for pleasantries, but I’m afraid we have a much bigger issue to address at the moment.”

“What is it?”

“It’s father. I don’t know how, but he’s discovered that we have a Dane in the infirmary, and he is not happy.”

The girl quirked a brow. “What? How could he possibly know that? Did someone tell him?”

“I-I don’t know...! It wasn’t me or Edric, that I can assure you.” He froze. “...You don’t think it could’ve been Linette, do you?”

Edlynne rejected the idea. “What...? N-No, of course not! I know she was apprehensive about all this in the beginning, but she wouldn’t endanger the life of one of her patients, Dane or not.”

Joseph sighed in discontent. “I suppose it no longer matters. The main problem right now is that Algar has returned from his travels, and is on his way up here as we speak...!”

Sigurd joined in. “I assume this is bad news for me?”

The boy turned to him. “Considering our father hates your people and would see you all dead, yes, I would say so. There’s also the fact that Algar himself isn’t fond of vikings either.”

A thought crossed Edlynne’s mind. “Well, what about Edric? Do you think he could sway father’s mind?”

Joseph didn’t seem too confident. “Possibly. He’s speaking to father in the throne room at the moment, but you know how much he distrusts Danes. Even if he convinces father not to kill our new friend here, I doubt the outcome will be favorable anyway. If you truly want to help Sigurd, we’ll have to do something ourselves.”

The girl was at a loss. “Like what?”

“...We’ll have to get him out of Forangal.”

Edlynne gestured at the stone walls around them. “And how are we supposed to do that? We’re locked in a castle surrounded by guards. Not to mention that all the gates are shut. How do you expect us to leave with a viking in tow?”

Joseph paused for a moment, trying to devise a plan. There weren’t many escape routes they could access from the infirmary -- especially in broad daylight -- but every castle had its blind spots. There had to be something.

He perked his head up in realization, his expression lighting up with an idea.

“Wait, I might have a way out.”

“Well? What is it?”

The boy gave Sigurd an apologetic look, uncertain of how the man would react to his suggestion.

“The corpse carts.”

Edlynne blinked in confusion. “...You want to use the corpse carts?”

“Why not? They’re filled to the brim nowadays because of the war. I doubt anyone would notice if we snuck another body into the pile--”

“--Oh, for God’s sake, Joseph!” The girl exclaimed in disgust.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

Edlynne paced around the room, crossing her arms in thought. “I don’t know, but there must be a better way. One that isn’t so... morbid. Perhaps we could disguise Sigurd? Clothe him in Saxon attire?”

“Disguise him?” Joseph repeated, clearly not on board. “Look at him, Edlynne! Unless you can get him a full suit of armor with a helm and cloak, he’s not getting past anybody.”

The girl grew frustrated. “The same could be said about the corpse carts. Our guards might be lazy sometimes, but they’re not stupid. Those bodies have been in there for days now. Surely, they’ve already rotted and turned grey. You really think they wouldn’t notice a living person hiding amongst them?”

Joseph shrugged in defeat. “Well, Sigurd looked pretty dead when you first brought him here.”

“That isn’t--”

“--My, my.” A fourth voice said, causing the twins to fall completely silent. “Bickering already?”

They both turned towards the door, only to see Algar himself standing in the entryway. 

“...Shit.” Joseph muttered, sticking close to his sister. “Hello, Algar.”

The housecarl leaned against the frame, greeting the siblings. “Lord Joseph. Lady Edlynne.”

Algar was a mountain of a man. Even without the thick layers of plated armor to bolden his towering physique, the man himself was intimidating enough.

His face was lined with deep creases around the eyes and nose, and the shape of his brow always seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl. There were multiple scars littered across his skin -- the most prominent one being a gash that traveled from the top of his head all the way down to his cheekbone -- and one of his ears had been sliced clean off.

Despite his damaged exterior though, Algar still seemed to look after his appearance somewhat. His dark hair was short and parted -- save for the baldness that had been rendered by his scar -- and his beard had been neatly trimmed to  fit his jaw.

He was certainly unlike any other Saxon Sigurd had ever seen, and the further he stepped into the room, prowling towards the viking like a lion, the more the Norse began to wonder if there was any hope of him surviving this day.

“My God,” Algar said with a chuckle as he gaze landed on Sigurd. “You really do have a Dane in here. I didn’t believe Hundwerth when he first told us about your new friend, but it seems that the bishop isn’t completely full of shit, after all.”

He glanced at the twins. “Where’d you find him?”

Edlynne knotted her hands together out of nervousness. “I-In Agenbury.”

“Agenbury?” He said, his voice quiet like the hiss of a snake. “Odd place for a viking.” He turned to Sigurd. “Care to explain what you were doing there, Dane?”

Sigurd scoffed. “You speak as if I was there voluntarily. The river carried me there when I was unconscious. I had no intentions of delivering myself into the hands of the enemy.”

Algar smirked. “No, but it seems that God did. For He knows of your crimes, and He knows you must face retribution.”

Joseph stepped in, admittedly uncomfortable about letting the housecarl too close to their new friend. “Why are you here, Algar? What does father want with Sigurd?”

“He wishes to meet the man. Face-to-face.”

Edlynne didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. “That’s... it? He just wants to meet him?”

Algar nodded. “Indeed. Unlike some of the other ealdormen in England, Aegenwulf actually looks his enemies in the eye before executing them.”

“No!” Joseph protested. “You can’t kill him! He’s done nothing wrong!”

The housecarl gave him a cautionary glare. “Calm yourself, little lord. Whatever your father commands is what I will carry out. If you have your quarrels with him, I’d suggest taking them to the throne room. He’s rather eager to see this Dane removed from our midst... and so am I.”

Algar placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, urging Sigurd to follow him. “Well, come along then, Dane. Ealdorman Aegenwulf awaits.”

Edlynne timidly approached the man, hoping to dissuade him. 

“Please, Algar. Leave him be. He’s still injured. Can’t you let him rest for a moment? W-We don’t even know if he can walk yet.”

“Then I’ll drag him by his bloody ankles.”

She glowered at him. “You can’t just--!”

“--It’s alright, Edlynne.” Sigurd reassured, holding a hand up. “I’ll follow him.”

“But...”

“It’s alright.” He reiterated. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with an ealdorman.”

Joseph placed a hand on Edlynne’s shoulder, attempting to calm her down. “Let it go, sister. There’s nothing we can do now.”

The girl let out an uneasy breath, but stood down nonetheless.

As for Sigurd, the man slowly threw his legs over the edge of the bed and braced himself for the upcoming trip, uncertain of how his body was going to handle his weight.

It had been days since he last stood on his own, and judging by how severely his wounds reacted to him simply lifting his arm earlier, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to walk without leaning on something -- or someone.

Pressing his feet against the stone floor, Sigurd grunted in effort as he pushed himself up from the bed, trying to ignore the agony that was now piercing his flesh.

It was clear that he wasn’t quite ready to be roaming around just yet, but based on the urgency of the situation, he assumed he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Well, would you look at that...” Algar taunted with a grin. “The dog’s still got some bark left in him.”

Edlynne stared at Sigurd with a shocked expression, evidently taken aback by his surprising height. The viking wasn’t quite as tall as Algar, but he still towered over the twins like a walking Goliath.

“How do you feel...?” She asked.

Sigurd clutched his arrow wound, attempting to suppress the pain. “Far better than I look, I assure you.”

Algar beckoned the Norse. “Then you’ll be fit enough to see Aegenwulf.” He turned on his heel, taking his leave from the infirmary. “Follow me, Dane, and try not to fall over. We don’t want your blood staining our floors.”

Staying behind for a moment while the housecarl made his way out, Sigurd exchanged looks with the twins and fell into an agitated silence, unable to deny that he shared their fear.

He had no idea if he’d be leaving the throne room alive, or if he’d even get the chance to make it that far, but seeing as how Edlynne and Joseph were fond of him, he hoped they’d be able to convince the others to spare him.

He wasn’t normally in the habit of begging Saxons for his life, but with the state that his body was currently in, Sigurd had no intentions of provoking anyone just yet. He may have been a warrior, but he certainly wasn’t stupid.

“Be careful, Sigurd.” Edlynne warned. “Our father isn’t a bad man, but... he’s controlled by his grief these days.”

That piqued the man’s interest. “Grief? Did something happen?”

Her tone sank with heartache. “...Yes. Our eldest brother, Gareth, was killed about a month ago. By a clan of Danes.”

Joseph added onto her explanation. “The Raven Clan, specifically.”

Sigurd froze upon hearing that, paralyzed on the spot.

...Did he just say the Raven Clan? Surely, that couldn’t have been right. He was well aware that the vikings had a reputation for being cruel to Saxons -- not all of it without reason -- but their clan was different. Eivor was different. He would not have condoned the killing a man who did not deserve it.

Though, of course, that presupposed the notion that Gareth was innocent. If someone in the Raven Clan deemed their brother worthy of a kill, Sigurd was certain that it must have been for a good reason.

There was clearly more to this story, but for the moment, he restrained himself from prying.

“Ah...” Sigurd simply replied, trying to conceal his sudden dread, “I see. You have my condolences.”

Edlynne didn’t seem to notice the shift in his mood. “Thank you. We pray for him everyday, but... there’s no way of knowing if he’s truly at peace. We can only hope.”

Joseph changed the subject, not wishing to dwell in these thoughts. “But enough about that. You have an ealdorman to greet, and we have much to prepare for, in the event that you don’t return.”

Sigurd nodded, following Algar’s tracks into the corridor. “I understand. Thank you both for your help. Even if your efforts end up being in vain, you will still have my appreciation.”

“Good luck, Sigurd.” Edlynne said, bidding him farewell. “May God guide you in the storm ahead. I have a feeling these next few days are going to be difficult for all of us, and I would not wish for more struggles to be thrust upon you.”

[farmerlan]

Farmer Lan’s Rewatch Guide to The Untamed - Episode 1

HERE WE GO I am strapped in with my Topo Chico and ready to take on Episode 1 of The Untamed. It’s going to be wild. I have no idea what I’m doing. If you’re reading this and have a better suggestion on how I should format everything, feel free to tell me because right now this is just the diary of a madwoman.

CAUTION: Due to the chronological differences between the novel and the drama, there will be instances where I bring in references further along in the novel and/or drama to explain what is going on, so there will be spoilers if you haven’t finished the series.

[Starting scene – there’s a voiceover of people rejoicing over WWX’s death, we see a chaotic battlefield and people fighting over the Stygian Tiger Amulet (here forth abbreviated as the STA because abbreviations are my jam). WWX commits suicide by falling off a cliff, LWJ tries to stop him and then JC sends him to the depths of hell. Flash to the present when some storyteller is narrating this story, and we’re told 16 years has passed since the Nightless City incident and WWX is seemingly gone forever – although his body has never been recovered despite extensive search efforts.]

Differences from the novel:

In the novel, there is no mention of clans trying to fight over the STA during the bloodbath at Nightless City. It’s definitely true that the existence of the STA and WWX’s unchecked power led to the actions of the Nightless City, but it was a combination of multiple events that led up to the battle, and not an explicit cause and effect.

It is also explicitly stated during Chapter 1 as people recount the tale of WWX that he destroyed the STA prior to his death.

In the novel, it is stated in Chapter 1 and confirmed by WWX himself (in Chapter 43) that WWX’s death was caused by his own power rebounding upon him and he ended up being torn apart by his own undead creations. So unfortunately the epic cliff scene was entirely scripted for the drama.

13 years has passed in the novel vs. 16 years in the drama. I can’t remember if there was an exact reason why they switched up the timeline, but just know that the timeline of the novel series of events itself is also very confusing and I will probably do a post with my take on it sometime later.

[Cut to present – WWX is summoned by MXY’s sacrifice, there’s some weird mask action going on, WWX creates a ruckus at the arrival of the Gusu disciples, they set up shop with the Demon Summoning flags, tell WWX to go wait inside and then they wait for the spirits to come their way.]

Differences from the novel:

The mask does not exist in the novel. In the novel, the body that WWX is summoned into is that of MXY’s, and MXY is a different person in every way from WWX in terms of face, height, etc. So everyone who sees WWX thinks he is MXY up until he finally reveals himself. It’s obviously a stylistic choice made to reflect why no one can recognize WWX in the drama series even though they are played by the same actor, because otherwise I can see how it can get confusing for viewers.

WWX is shown to be playing the WangXian melody in the room but this does not happen in the novel, although it does lead to a pretty epic snark from my favorite boy LJY about how awful WWX’s playing is (which IS in the novel, but happens later in the story instead). WWX does NOT use a flute at all until the Da Fan Shan arc in the novel. Also Jingyi, never stop being you.

It is not explicitly mentioned that MXY went to Lan Ling Jin sect in the novel at this current point, only that he was accepted as a disciple by a sect before being kicked out. We find this out later.

Other than that, the scenes with MXY closely follows the novel up until the Demonic Left Arm (DLA) to show up.

[WWX is hauled in to confess his crimes by Matriarch Mo, things go to shit in about 3 seconds and the disciples realize they need to call for backup STAT, the flare for LWJ is sent. WWX realizes this needs to end fast in order to avoid meeting LWJ and exposing himself. A-Tong becomes possessed by the DLA, dies, and then the DLA possesses Matriarch Mo. Attempts to restrain her fail and WWX revives the other now-undead Mos to fight her.]

Differences from the novel:

The sassy verbal takedown of Matriarch Mo by WWX is indeed in the novel and just as great.

The drama identifies the black marks on the victims’ necks as being caused by the STA. There is no such scene in the novel. Basically, there is no mention of the STA being the cause of ANY of this, because in the novel, it’s not.

In the novel, the disciples send flares for back up but are uncertain how quickly back up will arrive, and they definitely did not specifically call for LWJ. However, WWX realizes he needs to intervene to end this quickly because the spirit is too powerful for the disciples to deal with, and he can’t leave the Mo household until the revenge curse put upon him by MXY is lifted (i.e. until everyone MXY wants dead is dead).

A funny scene that gets left out of the drama is: Matriarch Mo leaps to attack LSZ, who can’t dodge in time. Instead, WWX literally KICKS LJY into her path because he knows that the Gusu robes are imbued with magical protective spells, so he basically used LJY as a human talisman as a last resort. LJY did not find this funny, and WWX plays the “I didn’t do anything, I have no idea what I just did and I can’t be held culpable because I’m batshit crazy” card. Ah, my boys.

 [LWJ appears just as Matriarch Mo appears to have gotten the upper hand, and subdues her with the POWER OF MUSIC dundun (also sensually massaging the guqin strings helloooo). WWX is hiding but HE IS HERE for all of his boo’s actions. LWJ clarifies that the DLA is a spiritual sword ghost with traces of the STA, everyone gasps because didn’t WWX die? OR DID HE NOT? Time will tell, my friends. Anyway, with the DLA subdued for now, LWJ hears the footsteps of WWX running away and chases after him but sees nobody. He thinks….”WEIYING IS IT REALLY YOU??” WWX A MYSERIOUS PERSON (to be revealed...but OK it’s NHS I told you there would be spoilers) gives money to the storyteller, and then we see WWX with Little Apple and he has one more wound left on his arm, indicating there’s someone else he needs to kill on behalf of MXY.]

Differences from the novel:

In the novel, WWX leaves the moment he hears LWJ’s guqin and does not stay to spectate.

See above re: no mention of what caused this, and certainly no discussion of the STA.

There’s no mention of LWJ suspecting that it is WWX in MXY’s body, or even suspecting that he has returned at all.

In the novel, the four wounds left as a physical reminder of the body count for the revenge curse is for the three members of the Mo family and for A-Tong. Therefore, WWX leaves the Mo family effectively free of his debt to MXY, but in the drama, he is shown to still have one remaining person left to kill…dun dun dun.

Storyteller man is not around in the novel – consider him a convenient voiceover tool for the drama ha. Thanks to the @redisthecolouroffate​ for the catch, I missed this but this is also the episode where NHS first shows up to reward the man for his storytelling, which is a nice bit of foreshadowing done by the show which is not in the novel at all.

Overall Thoughts

The drama does a really good job of setting the tone from the beginning. There’s not too much deviation here compared to the first five chapters of the novel (which covers this whole Ep 1 arc) since the majority of it was to set up the premise for the show and introduce our main characters.

The main difference here is we can see the drama is already setting itself up for the STA to play a much bigger role than in the novel. In the novel, our protagonists really have no idea what is behind the DLA at this point, and they certainly don’t immediately assert that it is a ‘sword ghost’ that has been tainted by the STA. In the novel, the only explanation for the DLA at present is in Chapter 5, when WWX notes that the spirit is more powerful than most, given that this spirit has already claimed three lives in the span of a few hours. WWX also deduced that this was the arm of a person who died by dismemberment, and to summarize the novel, the ghost arm is effectively trying to find the rest of its body. Until then, it moves between ‘live hosts’ like a parasite.

Also – WWX is also noted to be wearing badly applied make up in the novel but not in the drama. It is clarified in Chapter 1 that MXY was homosexual and was kicked out of his cultivation sect as he harassed a fellow male disciple and is now basically a gay lunatic, which is unfortunately not a great look in ye olden days.

Lastly, cute tidbit in the novel in Chapter 3 that didn’t make its way into the drama – WWX secretly marveled at LSZ’s knowledge and manners, and wondered “Who in that godforsaken, old-fashioned place (referring to the Cloud Recesses) could have brought him up/taught him so well?” OH YOU’LL FIND OUT WHO HA.

[perspective-series]

Pet Perspective (12/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Injury, fears of death

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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There were a lot of things that had gone wrong in Roman’s life- this was one of them.

To clarify, the escape had been going great. Roman had managed to make his way a full block away from the apartment before it even got dark, ducking through the underbrush and carefully timing his darts out in the open. He mostly stuck to front gardens, knowing it was more covered and less likely to be inspected without anybody out for gardening today. 

Down past the edge of the block, Roman had discovered an oak tree, with acorns scattered around the base. Not believing his luck, Roman also discovered a little stream of freshwater nearby as well. It was hardly a trickle to a human, but to Roman it meant everything. This could be the perfect place to set up a base, especially after he began to dig a small burrow beneath the tree roots.

Unfortunately, it was during this last task that Roman ran into trouble. He was digging long into the night, hard at work carving out a suitable home. The night made him tense; too many predators came out to prowl, looking for an easy meal. He wished he could finish faster, feeling like there were eyes on his back. 

Roman tensed, realizing that feeling had never been wrong. He turned, spotting the glowing yellow eyes peering at him through the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, Roman could see the shadowy figure’s tail swishing back and forth, ready to pounce.

“...crap.” Roman cursed, dashing over the tree root and towards the brambles. He knew he had no hope of outrunning a cat, but the coverage slowed the beast down long enough that he might have a change. The creature kept meowling incessantly, swiping its paws into the bush of his most recent hiding place and breaking off some of the branches.

“Go away, you furball!” Roman screeched, dodging out of the way just in time as the claws came for him again. At this rate the whole neighborhood would be woken up. Why couldn’t Kitty of Hell just give up the chase? Time dragged on, Roman’s adrenaline soon beginning to fade as he sluggishly repeated his actions, his dodges getting slower. How long had they been at this game of cat and borrower? Minutes? Hours? It was hard to tell; all Roman knew, was that unless something changed soon, he very well might lose this time. 

Lost in his thoughts, Roman was too slow and felt a sudden agonizing sensation rip through his right half as those wretched claws cut his arm and side. He yelled, shouting off every borrower curse he knew in the feline’s face, adrenaline spiked back up and he pressed himself further into the brambles that only irritated his wounds further.

 The sound of faint shout caught a man’s attention and he shone his phone light near the base of a tree. It was there he saw a cat, eagerly pawing at something. As a few words reached the man’s ears, he could only assume the cat was after an escaped borrower. He had come across a few in his time. Especially since he was one to take nightly walks like this.

 He shooed away the cat before kneeling down and using his phone to see if it was in fact a borrower or not.

Roman tensed, raising a hand to block out the light and noticing the human peering down at him. The borrower groaned, knowing there was no use running in this state but still feeling absolutely pathetic. He had only been gone a number of hours and was already caught again because of a stupid alley cat.

 “Well, how did a little thing like you get all the way out here?” The man spoke, reaching out and grabbing the borrower in a gentle fist. He noticed the collar right away. “And looks like someone might be missing you.”

Roman just glared at him, hating how he knew that might even be true. No, no it wasn’t… Virgil would have noticed he was missing by now. He was probably furious with him and never wanted to see Roman again.

 “Welp, let’s get you to the shelter so they can contact your owner.” The man said. Technically, the shelter wasn’t open but there was always someone there to take any found borrowers. The man entered and handed the borrower over before tipping his hat and leaving. The woman at the front looked the borrower over, looking closely at the collar and putting it in her notes to call it in the morning.

 “Well, looks like you got into quite the fight.” The woman mused, noticing the injuries.

“It was a stray cat.” Roman grumbled, knowing the shelter’s process by now. Hopefully that mangy calico didn’t have any sort of disease.

 The woman hummed and took Roman into the back real quick. She wasn’t the resident vet so all she could do was wrap the injury up to the best of her ability. “There we go, hopefully that will last until morning.” She then took him into the main area and set him up in his own cage. “Alright, we’ll call your owner in the morning.” And with that, she left.

Roman sunk to the floor, putting his head between his knees. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. He knew Virgil would react the same as the others, getting pissed over the phone and disowning him on the spot. Nobody wanted a borrower who slipped away, it was a breach of trust and too much trouble. More specifically, nobody wanted him.

Why hadn’t he just stayed put? Virgil had been right, Roman had a good thing going there. Even if it was just a few days, Roman had fun. Maybe it was because he got away so fast that Roman still held the human in such a positive light (humans were often nicer the first week or so), but somehow Roman knew that on the list of ‘owners he didn’t completely despise’ Virgil had somehow wriggled his way to the top.

Roman didn’t know how to feel about that, especially since he would likely never see Virgil again.

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

 Patton came down the stairs bright and early to see Virgil passed out on the couch. He frowned and already knew what Virgil had been up to for most, if not all, night. He sighed and decided to let Virgil sleep as he went into the kitchen.

 However, that was when Virgil’s phone went off, jarring him awake. He blinked down at the unfamiliar number before answering it. “‘Lo?” He said, still tired.

 “Is this Virgil Storm?” The voice asked.

 “Yeah, this is him. What’s this about?” If this was another scam thing…

 “I am Holly Beckett of the Borrower Shelter here in town and a borrower by the name of Roman was just dropped off here last night.” Virgil shot up, suddenly wide awake.

 “You have Roman?” As soon as he got the confirmation, he was already putting on his shoes. “I’ll be right there!” He exclaimed, wasting no time as he hung up and grabbed his keys.

 Patton, hearing Virgil yell, had come out of the kitchen. “Roman was found?”

 Virgil nodded. “I’ll be back.” He said before rushing out the door.

 Virgil burst through the shelter door, going up to the front desk as he panted. “I’m...Virgil Storm. I’m here for Roman.” He said through breaths.

 “Of course, he’s in there in cage A7.” She handed him the keys and Virgil took them before going into the room. His eyes landed on the cage-and Roman-almost immediately.

 “Roman!”

Roman jolted, painfully torn from his existential musing by a very familiar voice. He blinked, looking up and trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Virgil was here? 

But… oh god, this was a horrible thing, right? Roman had never had to face the consequences of his actions before. Virgil must be furious with him if he came all this way. Was he going to beat him up or something? Would the shelter let him do that? Probably, if he hadn’t been officially disowned yet. In his fear Roman scooted back, clutching the traitorous tag that had gotten him into this mess. It was always better on the times when he was recaptured after he had removed the collar.

 “Oh my gosh, you’re here! You’re okay.” Virgil fiddled with the lock before opening the door and gently grabbing Roman. He briefly held him to his chest, just taking a moment to calm his nerves and tell himself that Roman is okay. He’s here and he’s safe.

Roman let out a tense gasp of air, cringing as his injuries were jostled. His mind felt like it was short-circuiting, trying to figure out just what game Virgil was playing. Was he acting nice for the shelter workers? Was… was he going to actually take Roman back?

Oh, Roman was definitely in trouble.

 Virgil pulled Roman away, looking him over. His eyes widened when he got a good look at the mess of bandages. “What happened?” He asked softly, hovering a finger over it.

Roman grimaced. Great- now Virgil was going to make fun of him for not being able to take on a cat of all things. Cats were quite a formidable foe, but humans often saw them as cute little furballs rather than the demons Roman knew.

“A...cat found me first.” Roman was hesitant to explain, confused about how soft Virgil’s concern was; the shelter workers weren’t going to hear him at that volume.

 Virgil’s eyes widened. “A cat.” Virgil hissed out. That wasn’t good, especially if it had been a stray. He probably needed to set up an appointment with a vet…

 “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that. Get you properly bandaged and looked at. But first, we’re going home, okay?” Virgil said, voice still gentle. But as his panic was leaving him, a new emotion was growing bigger. Betrayal. Roman had lied after all...and Virgil was a bit upset over it.

 But he could deal with that later. Right now, he just wanted to focus on getting Roman home.

“Seriously?” Roman said incredulously, a wave of surprise and fear overcoming him all at once. This had never happened before. Roman didn’t have a plan for this, and that made him very, very nervous.

 Virgil looked down at Roman and remembered back to what he had been told. “I told you Roman. The cycle ends here, with me. We’re going home.” And having a nice, long talk, Virgil thought as he started out of the shelter, nodding at the woman in the front before he left.

Roman felt such conflicting feelings inside his chest, his face turning ashen. There was a small spark of something positive in him, a little light beam that couldn’t help but be amazed that Virgil had told the truth. Virgil wanted him…. Of course, the fact that Virgil most likely wanted him back now so that Virgil could kill him was putting a bit of a damper on Roman’s revelation. 

What would Virgil do? Take away his things? Make him play games the way he loathed? Toss him around and taunt him about all the secrets he had so foolishly spilled? How was he ever going to escape again? Virgil would certainly become the world’s strictest owner, keeping Roman on a short leash. Oh geez, what if he really did get a leash? Roman hated those more than he hated collars because they put a direct limit on his freedom. 

And then, suppose Roman did get free. The second he ended up back at the shelter, Virgil would be there to pick him up and punish him again. Over and over. He knew now that Virgil was just as stubborn as himself, and though the cycle of new owners might have ended… a new cycle might be beginning.

 Virgil was silent the rest of the way home, holding Roman against his chest. He pushed the door open and noticed Patton and Logan sat down eating breakfast. Patton perked up when he saw Roman in Virgil’s hands. “Oh Roman! I’m so glad you’re okay.” Patton said, smiling softly.

 “For the most part.” Virgil said. “He got a little roughed up by a cat before he was found but he’ll be fine.” He explained. Patton’s eyes widened.

 “Oh, you poor kiddo…” He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that must have been.

Logan felt his back muscles tense, observing the way Roman’s eyes darted around similar to a caged animal. It was certainly apparent Roman was not happy to be here, despite the fact that leaving seemed to have resulted in injury.

 “Yeah.” Virgil agreed. “I’m gonna go upstairs.” He looked down and noticed the full breakfast Patton had made. He bit his lip. “Uh, could you-”

 “I’ll save you two some, don’t worry.” Patton grinned and Virgil sent him a grateful one in return.

 “Thanks Pat.” And with that, he walked up the stairs. He stopped by the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and then to his room. He shut the door behind him before gently setting Roman down.

 “Alright, first things first.” Virgil opened up the kit. “Let’s fix up that wound a bit better.”

“I- it’s fine.” Roman lied, playing with the edge of the bandage.

 “Come on, Roman.” Virgil sighed. He cut up a piece of gauze and took out the lotion. “We need to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Pretty sure if it’s going to be infected, it already is.” Roman almost attempted humor. “Cat claws aren’t exactly sanitary.”

 Virgil frowned. “We’ll have to schedule a vet visit then.” He said more to himself. He reached forward and gently started undoing the bandages already around Roman.

Roman shuddered. A vet appointment? He loathed the vet. It was always so demeaning, with the veterinarians just forcing him to do things instead of asking him to move himself. And whenever something was wrong the humans would just discuss it over his head like he wasn’t even there, not letting Roman have a say in his own health.

 Virgil discarded the old bandages before placing a dab of the ointment on his finger. “Okay, this might sting a little.” He warned before gently applying it to Roman’s side.

“Ow!” Roman jerked away from the touch with a hiss. “You said a little.”

 Virgil winced. “Sorry, sorry but I’ve gotten rub this in.” He said, doing just that. “There, now just gotta bandage you back up.” He took the gauze he cut up and started to wrap it around Roman.

Roman expected the bandages to be pulled taunt, a clear indicator of Virgil’s wrath. He sucked in his breath, preparing, and was surprised when the bandages were applied almost delicately. Clearly, whatever Virgil wanted with him, Roman still had to be in good health. Not exactly the brightest of thoughts.

 “All done.” Virgil said, taking his hands away. The bandages stayed in place and he then busied himself with putting everything away and closing the first aid kit. 

 He turned to look at Roman, a mixture of feelings coming up now that he was no longer distracted. He took in a deep breath. “Roman...we need to talk about this.”

Uh oh. Roman shifted on his feet, trying to decide if it was better or worse to look Virgil in the eye. He felt like a coward when he looked away so Roman forced himself to meet Virgil’s gaze, deciding that this was definitely worse. He tried to make out what was happening in the human’s head, but the eyes gave no hints.

 “I just...I don’t understand. I-I thought we were bonding. Having fun. Was that all just an act? Were you just lying to me? Was everything you told me a lie?” Virgil asked, his feelings rising with each question until he was pulling at his hair as he desperately looked at Roman for the answers.

“No!” Roman shrunk in on himself, feeling scared and guilty and confused. “No, I assure you, I was not lying. Wait, that’s a lie, because I was lying about the promising to not escape...obviously.”

 Well, Virgil was glad that everything else was true, like Roman’s past. But he still had questions. “...Why? I thought we were doing better. I thought…” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “I thought we were getting along.”

“Well, ah, we… were, I suppose.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “In a way, at least. I was having fun, I’ll admit.”

 “Then why did you still escape.” Virgil asked softly. “I mean, do you know how worried I was! I got maybe an hour of sleep last night because I spend the whole night looking for you!” Virgil exclaimed a bit louder than he probably should have this close to the borrower.

Roman frowned, confused by this new piece of information. He had definitely escaped too early, then, if Virgil was so concerned. Roman hadn’t let the appeal of a new borrower wear off. 

“I told you, I don’t want a ‘not-so-bad’ experience.” Roman huffed, crossing his arms and trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

 “Well then tell me what I can do to make it great. Tell me how I can be better. I want you to be happy here, Roman. I...I want you to like me.” Virgil admitted, looking away. 

“I know!” Roman snapped, channeling all his confusing emotions into anger as he watched Virgil mope. This, at least, felt familiar. “I know you do, I get it, you’re one of the rare humans who actually cares about what I think, but you still don’t care about anything that matters! I don’t care who it’s with, I don’t want to be caged!” 

Roman grabbed at the tag of his collar, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. “I don’t want to be collared! I don’t want to be owned! I’m my own person with my own life and I’m sick and tired of humans making my decisions for me for your own selfish wants.”

 Virgil flinched back, looking back at Roman with wide eyes. He felt his heart beat fast as he furrowed his eyebrows and took in everything that Roman said. His words struck a chord in him and Virgil realized that...maybe he had known all along? And he had just ignored it?

 Virgil didn’t know what was worse.

 “Roman...I…” His voice trailed off. He had no idea what to say to something like that. “I...didn’t know…” Virgil winced. Yeah, that was the absolute wrong thing to say.

“Stop it.” Roman scowled, gesturing wildly to all of Virgil. “Stop...that. Why are you sulking? Stop playing around. I know you must be absolutely furious with me, so- so stop playing the victim and just get mad already.”

 Now Virgil was even more confused. “Roman...I’m not mad. I won’t lie and say I’m not upset but-but…” Virgil’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what Roman was thinking. “Roman, I’m not going to punish you.”

“What?” Roman squinted, his heart still racing and his stomach still feeling like a rock. What was happening? Roman didn’t understand why he was feeling all these conflicting emotions, and it only made him more frustrated. Despite not wanting to be punished, Roman couldn’t help but press further. “Why not? Why am I… why’d you take me back, then?”

 Virgil sighed. “Because I really do want you Roman. I want you to have a good life and I don’t trust anyone else to give it to you. What? Even after everything I said before, you still thought I wouldn’t come back for you?”

Roman took a shuddering breath, cautiously wrapping his arms around his meager frame. “I… I mean, you would have said anything to calm me down. I haven’t known you for long, and I myself was lying about running. I had no reason to trust you, and it’s easy to make those claims. It’s another thing to actually act on them.”

 “I...I guess you do have a good point.” Virgil furrowed his brows again, deep in thought. “I suppose we...did just meet each other, huh? And, I’ve been acting like all this is normal and everything when it really isn’t…” Virgil let out a long sigh.

“Wait, like what’s all normal?” Roman’s face scrunched up in confusion.

 “This. You, being here. Living here. Being...trapped here.” Virgil looked down and shifted in his seat. “Having to act like someone you aren’t and hide your feelings because you’re scared something will happen to you…” He was starting to understand where Roman was coming from.

Roman froze, so caught off guard that he could only utter a single word. “...what?”

 Virgil looked at Roman sadly. “You’re right. You didn’t know me before you were forced to live here. Just like with all your other...owners. You’ve been forced to listen to me because I’m so much bigger than you and the world we live in deemed you...deemed you as pets.” He looked Roman over, his eyes catching the collar around Roman’s neck and he barked out a humorless laugh. “I even collared you...like some animal…”

“Yes?” Roman glanced down at the collar, before raising an eyebrow at Virgil. Had the human gone mad? He seemed to be teetering on the edge of hysterical. “Are you gloating or something?”

 Virgil shook his head. “No...just having a mental breakdown, but it’s fine. I think I needed this.” He took in a deep breath. “Roman...do you want me to take the collar off of you?” He offered.

“Why?” Roman asked, looking the human up and down with a wary eye. For one, Roman was still concerned for Virgil’s mental state. But for another, Roman didn’t particularly like the idea of being taunted with freedom when he knew the collar would just come back on.

 Virgil bit his lip, knowing Roman was still wary. Which, he had good reason to be. Virgil couldn’t blame him. He was suddenly struck with an earlier memory and well...it had worked that time. Maybe it would here too. “Because I’m going to burn it.”

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

A Death By a Thousand Cuts Would Be Easier

Summary: A brief history of some of the moments concerning Bruce Wayne that Selina Kyle will remember until the day she dies.

Author’s Note: So, a bit of an explanation of how this whole thing works. The italicized headers are each things or phrases from the bridge of the stunning “Death By a Thousand Cuts” by Taylor Swift. Under each header is a drabble (none are exactly 100 words, so please forgive me) that is in some way connected with whatever the header is. They are not in chronological order, but hopefully it shouldn’t be too confusing. There are also some shoutouts to some of the wonderful Batcat Fam sprinkled throughout the story as a sort of thank you for being such amazing friends. Also, thank you to Itzel for clarifying what dances Bruce may have actually learned in Mexico.

A Death By a Thousand Cuts Would Be Easier

Looking back on it, Selina gave a lot of things to Bruce Wayne. And when he left, each of those things cut her as they left with him. Her heart, her trust, her love all cut her as he flew away on a plane that didn’t have a seat on it for her. The wound he gave her when he left wasn’t what had nearly killed her. It had been the thousands of cuts those pieces of her had left.

My Heart

Selina’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. Obviously she knew that wasn’t possible, but it felt like it. She hadn’t even been a tenth as afraid as she was now when they had been fighting that stupid fence to try and get the necklace a hour ago. But making her next request was probably going to be the most terrifying thing Selina had ever done.

“Will you return it?” Selina asks, putting the pearl necklace on the table.

She couldn’t bear to do it herself. The very idea of walking into the house where Ivy had killed that scientist and acting like returning a stolen necklace was the same thing as bringing back the woman’s husband made Selina want to run and hide for the rest of her life. When she weighed the cost of returning the necklace herself against the terror that would accompany asking Bruce for such a personal and vulnerable favor, her fear of facing the woman whose life and necklace she had stolen was just ever so slightly more terrifying. She could trust Bruce to take her heart and not destroy it, but there was no way she would trust herself to return a necklace to a woman whose heart had been eviscerated while Selina took her pearls.

My Hips

Bruce claims he learned how to salsa when he was in Mexico. Selina thinks he’s lying but has no proof to back it up other than that a trip to Mexico does not fit into the timeline she’s working on forming of the past ten years of Bruce’s life since he skipped town. But, his salsa dancing was really good. Like, really, really good. It seemed insane that Bruce had left Gotham a decade ago unable to do much more than a basic waltz and returned a master of just about every style of dance they’ve encountered at galas thus far. Filing away a mental note to interrogate Bruce later about his new found dancing ability, Selina returned to focusing on the mission, searching the room for Penguin.

That is until Bruce moved his hands from her back and down to her hips and any hope she had of looking at anything other than Bruce’s eyes flew out the window.

My Body

Lying paralyzed in a hospital bed as she heard the sounds of Gotham falling to pieces around her was a nightmare so horrible Selina couldn’t even have imagined it. She still wakes up every couple of hours with a jolt and, sometimes, a scream from dreams that seem so real she expects Jeremiah to be the one grabbing her and not Bruce or Alfred or one of the nurses. It had been a week since everything had collapsed in on itself and her world had been torn apart by a bullet and the bombs that blew the bridges and she was only just now beginning to reach a point where she was willing to talk to Bruce. It was stupid to blame her new, useless body on him because he wasn’t the one who pulled the gun’s trigger. He hadn’t made her go to the manor that night. He hadn’t forced them to be friends. He hadn’t made her lie about seeing who killed his parents. But if she didn’t blame him for the bullet that might as well have ended her life, then the only person left in this hospital to blame would be herself. And, at the end of the day, it was better to believe she’d given up her body, her freedom, and her life for the boy who had spent the last 96 hours in a hospital chair next to her than to think about how all the choices that had led her to this moment were her own.

My Love

For a young woman whose entire appeal is that she slinks in and out of people’s lives like a cat with absolutely zero emotional connection to those she interacts with, Selina loves a surprisingly large number of people, places, and things. She loves to play with the cats who frequent her apartment. She loves the little Mexican bakery around the corner from Cornelia Street. She loves her collection of black leather jackets that has only continued to grow. She loves Gotham and punk music and greasy, cheap pizza and the way the sky turns pink as the sun sets and rises each day. But, and this is a fact she buries so deep down inside that it only has a chance to surface when she stays still for more than a handful of seconds, she loves Bruce Wayne at least as much as all of those things combined. She never really told him when he was in Gotham and she swears she’ll never tell him even if he comes back one day, but it’s a small fact she keeps tucked away and it makes her heart just a little bit more full than it was before.

Like a Bad Drug

Selina hadn’t done drugs before. It was a bit ridiculous considering she was 18 and had been living on the streets her whole life. Most kids with stories like hers got their first taste of drugs before they were 10, but Selina’s ability to pick pockets and get in and out of places undetected required her to be sober, so drugs had been firmly off the table. Other kids could be high and still get by, but if she was even the littlest bit not completely in her own head, any attempts she made to steal things would be a catastrophe.

Selina hadn’t done drugs before, but she also hadn’t been abandoned by Bruce Wayne without a good-bye beyond a small note before. Well, there’s a first time for everything, Selina thought as she snorted the white powder.

In a Haunted Club

Rumor has it that Bruce Wayne is in England. No one has any proof, but there are pictures of an heiress named Kayliegh wandering London with a guy dressed in all black who if you look at the picture from exactly the right angle and have no idea what Bruce looks like, could be the missing Wayne. But Selina actually knows what Bruce looks like, has memorized every line of his face and can still hear his laugh sometimes as she falls asleep. But the tabloids with the pictures were everywhere today and she’s tired of hearing his name whispered by Gothamites everywhere she goes.

So she heads to the Sirens and hopes the sound of the club will drown out the idea that maybe he had moved on and maybe he was in London and maybe she wasn’t part of his story anymore. The alcohol doesn’t help her shake the feeling that a ghostly Bruce Wayn is watching her from just outside of peripheral vision, but that’s not enough to dissuade her from taking another shot.

Our Songs

Once upon a time, Selina had tried to learn to play the ukulele. Someone had thrown the instrument in the trash when she was about seven and Selina had picked it out of the dumpster. It had been painted blue with a picture of a flower on it and she had plucked at the strings and dragged it along with her for a couple of weeks. In the end, it had been abandoned one day when she had to run from the police who were very intent on bringing her back to St. Maria’s. It had just been another one of her dreams that got discarded on a Gotham street, just like she had been.

A decade later she’s stuck in a hospital bed and the doctors are talking about how she needs to adjust to this new normal and that there are plenty of new skills she can learn that don’t require her to actually move much. Selina only half listens to them because the other half of her mind is occupied with trying to think of a reason to keep on going. Bruce brings her a ukulele the next day because he figures it’ll keep her mind off of the impending surgeries and that if she can at least learn one song maybe the doctors will stop hovering as much. They learn how to stumble through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” together and even though Selina doesn’t put any of her heart into the song, Bruce is enthusiastic enough for both of them.

Our Films

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen Star Wars?” Bruce is 15 and completely incredulous. Selina is curled into a ball on the couch, completely and utterly unperturbed by Bruce’s impending, Star Wars-induced breakdown.

“When was I supposed to have the time to sit down and watch a bunch of movies? It’s not like I have tons of downtime to spend watching Spock hit people with laser swords.” Selina gestures impatiently for the bowl of imported European chocolates by Bruce’s left hand while Bruce blinks in shock at his friend.

“Well, you have time now. I hope you’re comfortable because you’re not leaving here until you understand how wrong you are when you say that Star Wars is about Spock hitting people with laser swords.”

“Whatever. But if I’m going to be stuck here for eternity you better hand me that chocolate before I smother you with a pillow.”

Bruce hands her the candy and joins her on the couch as the opening crawl appears on the screen. What he doesn’t know is that Selina has a secret: She’s seen every second of Star Wars multiple times before, but she figured that a Star Wars marathon would be the ideal way for her to try every sweet in the Wayne manor. No one could say that Selina couldn’t play dumb when it suited her.

United We Stand

The Year the Bridges Blew always feels a bit like a dream when Selina looks back on it. She can’t quite pinpoint many details from the year and so much of it seems to fade when she thinks about it too hard. Granted, if it were up to most of the citizens of Gotham, that year would be erased from everyone’s mind so that they could all move forward without the looming fear that one day they will be trapped in their city again.

But there are some memories from that time that Selina wouldn’t erase. She likes to revisit the summer evening she spent one day with Bruce, lounging on a rooftop, watching some teens below trying to set off fireworks. Despite the kids' shouts, the claps of the fireworks, and the general noise that always seemed present in Gotham and hand only gotten louder since the bridges blew, the moment felt quiet. She had slipped her hand into his as a red firework had started and sputtered out and for a single, glorious evening she really felt that she had a teammate. Someone who would still be there the next morning and the morning after that and so on until they had no more mornings to wake up to. In that moment, she felt united with Bruce in a way she never had before. You’d have to offer her a fortune larger than the Waynes’ to get her to give up that memory.

Our Country, a Lawless Land

Gotham was Selina’s city. This fact was the only one she knew so well that it felt like it was ingrained in every muscle and sinew and bone and ligament in her body. She had been born here, had grown up here, had been abandoned here, had been killed by Jeremiah here and then brought back to life here. To try and separate Gotham from Selina would be like trying to separate a single thread from an intricate tapestry. It might be possible, but why would you even bother?

That’s why, no matter how hard she tries, Selina can’t understand why Bruce left, why he always kept leaving Gotham. They built their relationship on the sound of their feet running on Gotham’s street. They had laughed together on Gotham bridges. Had shouted and whispered declarations of love with Gotham’s skyline as their backdrop. Every single part of what made them them was entrenched in the city. And, somewhere in the back of her mind, Selina realized that if Bruce could leave Gotham, the city that had made him, then that meant he could leave her too.

Our Paper-Thin Plans

“I think I’d want a house with a window seat.”

“A window seat? Out of all the things a house could have, your request is for a window seat?”

“Yeah. I like them.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the window seats back home?”

“Yeah, if you and Alfred aren’t bothering me that’s usually where I am.”

“How have I never noticed this? Alfred, did you know that Selina loves window seats? … Okay, how did everyone know this but me?”

“Maybe your powers of observation just aren’t as good as you think they are.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll make a note that when we rebuild the manor to add in more window seats.”

“You better or else I might have to find some other billionaire to hang out with because window seats are a deal breaker in this whole thing.”

My Time

Selina’s time is a valuable commodity. Every second she’s spending doing something is a second she could be casing a jewelry store or picking pockets downtown. But, sometimes even a young thief needs a night off. Selina’s plan is simple, she’ll feed her current cats- Isis and Coco- and then take a shower before eating some Chinese from the place across the street that always has just a bit too much food left over come closing time.

At least that was the plan before Bruce Wayne knocked on the door (He knocked. Like she paid rent for the place.) and asked if she was up to anything. Of course, when she planned on a quiet night, Bruce wanted her to keep him from dying on some fool’s quest. She only rolled her eyes once before grabbing her leather jacket and heading out the door. She’d always have time for him.

My Wine

Selina doesn’t usually drink wine. She’s had a variety of them, ranging in cost from a couple of bucks to more than a year’s worth of rent, and she honestly hasn’t liked any of them. But a couple of times a year since she’s turned 21, she gets a small invitation in the mail inviting her to a quiet dinner at the new Wayne manor. Alfred always pulls out a bottle of what he promises her is good wine and they usually finish it by the time dinner is pushed to the end of the table and desert is being savored. Sometimes the invitation is for a special date, like Christmas or Alfred’s birthday, but other times there is no rhyme or reason that Selina can discern for the dinner. This time the invitation comes and is signed by both Alfred and Bruce and a not small part of Selina is bitter that Bruce is trying to infringe on the bond that she and Alfred forged in, and because of, his absence. She doesn’t show up on the appointed date and instead hacks the Wayne bank account and makes a very generous donation to a local animal shelter in Bruce’s name. Alfred sends her a bottle of wine a few days after they were supposed to meet that he claims is spectacular. She can’t taste the difference between it and the box wine she bought one time.

My Spirit

Selina’s birthday is either December 1st or December 3rd. Maria says it’s the 1st, but all her official documents cite it as the 3rd. Selina knows it’s weird to not really know her birthday, but it’s not like she grew up with birthday parties so it never really was an issue. But then she accidentally reveals that she has two birthdays to Bruce when they’re 13 and suddenly these previously mostly meaningless days in December are arriving with more pomp and circumstance than she had ever anticipated.

They throw a party on the 1st with games and food and gifts at the manor. Alfred prepares all the fanciest foods and Selina is asked to wear a dress to the party. (She does, but she complains about it the whole time.) It’s a fun, if strange event, and Selina enjoys herself. But then the 3rd rolls around and she returns to her apartment exhausted from running all over town in the snow to find Bruce with an enormous pile of take out from at least half a dozen of her favorite restaurants. He’s brought a projector and some movies and pillows and blankets. They make a pillow fort before settling down with the food. Snuggled beneath a pile of blankets, with some old movie about a guy in a wheelchair spying on his neighbors from his window, Selina has a shining moment where she truly understands peace. For once her mind, her spirit, her body, her heart, every part of her, feels completely at peace. It’s the best birthday gift anyone could have given her.

My Trust

She doesn’t wear the ring on her finger for a multitude of reasons. It could get lost or she could scratch herself or it could get caught on something or it could be noticed by someone and then the whole world might know about the secret Selina had been carrying around for about two weeks. It isn’t that she is ashamed or embarrassed about the engagement, but she likes the idea that this particular moment is being shared only with the people she trusts to treat it with love and kindness. She knows that the world, that Gotham, will pry and pick at the happiness her engagement is giving her, but if she keeps the ring on a chain around her neck, close to her heart, then maybe she can keep this beautiful moment going just a bit longer.

A Thousand Cuts

The bells ring louder than she had expected but the crowd of people are even louder. Selina’s still not used to the public side of being connected with this new Bruce Wayne, but she loves the private part of him too much to be dissuaded by camera flashes and people shouting his name. As they race from the the entrance of the church (Martha and Thomas got married there, so Bruce felt getting married there was the closest he’d get to having his parents at his wedding) to the open car, she focuses on the rhythmic ringing of the bells, blocking out the shouts and questions and rice that is being thrown at her. And each ring seems to to call out to her:

Bong! Don’t give up on him.

Bong! He’s got you.

Bong! He may have cut you a thousand times…

Bong! But he’ll heal you a thousand and one.

[shipersanonymous]

One Hit West

By: ShipersAnonymous

Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis:

Danger at every turn, a darkness threatening to consume her, a secret she's trying to keep, a life she's trying to protect.

Iris West is the best at what she does. She knows her way around the shadows and is unstoppable with a gun. But when her old flame, Barry Allen, suddenly makes his way into her family's hit list she's forced to go against her nature to save the man she once loved. The man she still loves.

When you kill for a living, death is bound to follow where you go but how do you fight against the one thing you've been trained to do?

How do you keep yourself from being tempted by the past?

How do you protect the ones you love when the greatest danger in their lives is you?

Author's Note:

OK I'm so sorry this is so late (my time atleast) but this took a little figuring out 😅.

IT'S FINALLY HERE! My first tumblr fan fic! I'm beyond excited! Hope you all like it! Feel free to let me know what you think and share your theories!

XOXO

************ Cliffhanger Warning *************

Chapter 1

[Iris]

Bang!

The loud and familiar sound of the gun going off echoes through the abandoned warehouse and the, now, dead man’s blood splatters onto her black leather coat. She stares down at him unmoved, her face set in an expression of cold indifference. A heavy silence ensues as she simply looks into her victims cold blue eyes, a piece of her own dwindling humanity slipping out of her with every passing second. The lifeless orbs stare back at her, frozen with that special brand of fear that she’s seen on many a hit. The fear that consumes each soul at the very last second, just before she pulls her trigger. The realisation that those are the last breaths they’ll ever take, that hers are the last eyes they’ll ever see.

Satisfied that her job has been done, Iris lifts her booted foot from the corpse’s neck. The lifeless head bobs to the side and blood trickles from the bullet wound in the center like a spot of dark red paint on a fleshy canvas. She replaces her gun in its holster as she walks away from the cooling body.

“Seriously?” Eddie asks as she steps outside the abandoned building into the brisk night air. She turns her head towards him and disdainfully regards his cool stance. With his back and a foot propped against the wall and his arms casually crossed over his chest he oozes a carelessness that has become a Hitfamily trademark. She doesn’t validate his remark with the expected ‘what?’, but instead stares him down and waits for the elaboration that, she has no doubt, will follow.

“You could have put a silencer on that thing.” He explains and she simply rolls her eyes and huffs out exasperated. With a turn of her heel she begins her walk back up to her car, her unwanted partner following closely behind her.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna ignore me? You know just cause you’re the bosses daughter Iri-”

The click of the gun engaging shuts him up and before he can blink he’s staring down the barrel of her still warm weapon.

“Listen Thawne, this was a one woman hit that I could have done in my sleep and the only reason why you’re here is cause between dealing with you and dealing with my dad you’re easier to kill. That being said…”

She steps closer to him and pulls him to her by his collar. Her gun rests beneath his raised chin and she can practically smell the fright rolling off him in tiny beads of sweat.

“… If you ever try to tell me how to do my job again, I’ll make it a point to show you just how well I know what I’m doing and the last thing you’ll see on this earth is how good I am at pulling the trigger. Incase you haven’t heard, I never miss. You get the picture?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the fearful lump forming in his throat and he nods, too afraid of saying the wrong thing and ending up like the corpse that lies bleeding in the warehouse a few feet away.

“Good. And when we’re out on a hit, it’s West. Now get out of my sight before I have to call two bodies in. I don’t need the extra paper work.” She spits shoving him away as she let’s go.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He shakes out before, scrambling to his feet and making a hasty retreat. She disengages her gun and replaces it in her holster as she tries to push down her annoyance. You’d think that with a success rate as high as hers her father would stop trying to send her out with baby sitters. Alas she’s done this tango long enough to know that there’s no use fighting with Father West. All she can hope for is a co-hitman that doesn’t actually have a thirst for blood and let’s her do her own thing. A wind blows through her tensed body, swaying her coat and ponytail synchronically in the air. A dog barks in the distance, the only sign of life in the dark and deserted place. Iris takes a moment to breathe as she feels the adrenaline begin to leave her body.

It’s time to go.

She walks the rest of the steep way up to her black car, stopping briefly to relieve herself of her stained coat and dispensing it in the trunk before stepping into the drivers seat.

With a push of the start button, the machine roars to life. Iris buckles up and takes off, speeding away in the direction of the city. One hand holds the steering wheel and the other’s fingers dance over the keypad from the monitor in the dashboard with a ritualistic ease. She calls the main office and waits for the prerecorded prompt. Instead of a robotic voice, a chime cries through the speakers, announcing that she has an incoming call.

She glances at the screen for a moment, the number is unlisted. Suspiciously she reaches up to her Bluetooth ear piece and answers.

“Hello?”

“Iris it’s me,” her brothers voice responds on the other end and an annoyance creases her brow.

“Wallace what the hell?” she demands, her eyes never leaving the road, her voice never faltering despite the nervous hammering of her heart.

“Listen you can scold me later but there’s no time for that now. You need to get to the Golden Gate Casino pronto,” the urgency in his voice is unmistakable and Iris feels herself begin to worry.

“Why?”

“Dad got a request for a hit an hour ago and you need to stop him,” he whispers.

“Wait dad’s actually going on a hit himself. Boy must be some important client,” she observes, still confused as to why her brother would send her on a literal suicide mission.

“It’s not the client that’s important, it’s the target. He has a, uh, personal score to even out.”

“Now I know you’re joking. That’s against our oath, and dad would never do that. No matter how much a person pisse-”

“It’s Barry.” Wally blurts out and the shock is enough to make her skied to a stop.

“What?” she asks feeling her lungs begin to collapse.

“The target is Barry Allen.” He clarifies.

Her skin irrupts in goosebumps at the mention of his name. It’s been so long since she last heard it said out loud, six years to be exact. A thin layer of tears gloss over her wide eyes and the sound of angered hoots is drowned out by the roar of her heart beat as memories flood her mind.

“Why Iris? Just, just tell me why? Did I do something wrong?” he begged, his voice tremulous from the effort of holding in his sobs.

“No Barry, you were perfect in every way it’s just-”

“Then why are you doing this? Don’t…” he paused, trying to find the stomach to ask what he was about to ask.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” the question came out as a whisper but Barry couldn’t bare to wait for the answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and she allowed herself a moment of weakness, savoring the warmth of his arms one last time.

“Don’t do this to us. Don’t- don’t do this to me.” He pleaded. She pulled away enough to look up into his saddened gaze, trying her best to hold back her own tears.

She couldn’t cry. She didn’t deserve to cry. Not with all the heartache she was no doubt causing him.

“I can’t lose you,” he begged tightening his hold on her as if he could just trap her there and keep her in his embrace forever.

“It’s for the best Barry. You, have to let me go.” She said softly though it mostly seemed like she was trying to convince herself of that.

“Iris,” he whispered her name like a cry of agony, the longing hanging from each syllable. Hurt punctuating every letter. Without thinking she kissed him, long and hard, expressing in that moment her own pain. Her own love. Her goodbye.

They broke apart and she connected her forehead to his. She kept her eyes closed but she could feel his tears dripping onto her hand like rain on a pavement.

“I love you Barry. And… a part of me knows that I always will. But I can’t be with you any longer. This- this is goodbye.” She whispered and before she gave in to her wailing heart she pushed out of his embrace and ran. She ran and never looked back. Not when he screamed out her name like he was being torn apart limb for limb the further away she got from him. Not when his footsteps no longer echoed behind her. Not when she got home and finally let herself cry. Not ever. She would never stop running. She couldn’t ever stop.

“Iris!” her brother cuts through her thoughts and she comes to, her cheeks wet with tears she thought she’d never shed again. She dabs away at them quickly and closes her eyes, shifting her mindset back to the present.

“How close is he?” Her voice was firm like a concrete wall.

“I’m not sure I had to sneak out of the office to give you the heads up but judging by the time dad left he should be there in the next 45 minutes.” He informs. Mechanically, Iris starts up the car, both her hands gripping the wheel with such force that her knuckles pale.

“I’m closer, I can make it in twenty. Get rid of your burner and be careful when you sneak back in.” She warns her foot flattening against the gass as she passes her third red light.

“I’ll be fine don’t worry. Keep me posted.” He responds.

“Wally wait!” She calls out before he hangs up.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Could you call Nissa for me? Let her know what happened and check that everything’s OK? If you can’t reach her try Jen. She usually sleeps over on weekends,” Iris asks.

“Sure thing sis. Consider it done.” He says sternly and Iris breathes a momentary sigh of relief.

“Thanks Wally,” She says softly, shedding her murderous demeanour for just a second.

“Anytime. Oh and sis?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

**********************************************

Iris comes to a violent stop in one of the parking slots towards the outskirts of the parking lot where no one ever parks. A brief glance at her watch tells her she has 25 minutes to get in, find him and get him out. With no time to lose she grabs her duffle bag from the trunk and squeezes into her back seat for a quick change of outfits. This will go a lot smoother if she can draw as little attention to herself as possible. Thanking her organised nature for keeping a classy yet flexible short jumpsuit in her car she slips on her heels, touches up her make up and walks towards the entrance with 15 minutes to spare. Her high ponytail sways with her hips as she clicks her way up the stairs, her senses on high alert.

To get to the gaming lounge she needs to pass through the metal detectors but the Golden Gate has been the setting for many a rendezvous with targets and clients so she barely breaks a sweat as she reaches the front of the line. Calmly, she removes the red emerald ring that rests on her ring finger, a symbol of who she is, and places it on a tray along with her clutch and her earrings. Upon seeing the ring the security guard nods his head in understanding and discreetly brushes his pass over the scanner embedded into the metal detector. It flashes green and she walks in with out a single beep. She nods back in appreciation and retrieves her belongings before stepping into a broad, red-carpeted hallway. Her pistol safely hidden in her clutch.

A clock on the wall tells her she lost five minutes in the line so she picks up her pace. As she nears the top of the stairs that will lead her down to the gambling area she forces all thoughts away from her mind and tries to prepare herself to see him again.

The only man she’s ever loved. The worst heartbreak she’s ever caused.

At the top of the stairway she scans the room, looking from any remote sign of familiarity and there, in the corner, seated at one of the roulette tables, she finds him.

For a second her heart stops and she forgets how to breathe. His back is to her but just the sight of his glistening brown-black hair, strands that once upon a lifetime she used to contently comb her fingers through, was enough to spike her nerve levels. Memories try to push their way back into her mind but she forces them down, fully aware that time is not on their side.

My side.

She scolds herself.

There is no “us”.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself she hurries down the stairs, without drawing any attention to herself, and worms her way to him. Just before she reaches him she takes a second to straighten out her outfit and plasters on her most seductive expression.

“Mind if I join you Mr. Allen?” She whispers into his ear and the chip that he had been nervously fiddling with slips from his finger, clattering on to the table.

[romana73]

REYLO FANFIC: YIN AND YAN. CHAPTER 5, PART II

WRITER: Romana73 TIME: One year after Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi THEME AND FANDOM: Star Wars RATING: Explicit TITLE: Yin and Yan CATEGORIES: M/F COUPLES: Kylo Ren / Ben Solo and Rey CHARACTERS: Rey, Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, Anakin Skywalker (nominated), BB - 8, Knights of Ren, Chewbacca, Darth Vader (nominated), Finn, General Hux, Han Solo (nominated), Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, boys from Canto Bright, Snoke (nominated), various Resistance and First Order fighters WARNINGS: Star Wars characters, world and stories AREN’T MINE AND DON’T BELONG TO ME, but they are created and owned by George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Disney, J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson and the actors who play the Star Wars characters and their stories. I’M NOT IN ANY WAY LINKED TO THESE PEOPLE AND CINEMATOGRAPHIC HOUSES. I DON’T KNOW NO ONE OF THEM and I’M IN NO WAY IN CONTACT WITH THEM

WARNINGS 2: violence, also in terms of language. The starting idea of ​​this story derives from a leaks I read last year and which struck my imagination CHAPTER I can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/189784450126/reylo-fanfiction-yin-e-yan CHAPTER II can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/189959876431/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-part-2 CHAPTER III can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/190301208881/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-3-part CHAPTER IV can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/190662591396/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-chapter-iv

CHAPTER V, PART I can be found HERE : https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/614181147435532288/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-part-5

CHAPTER V (PART II )

Kylo had burst into bitter laughter when he saw cell where Resistance had locked him up. He imagined few were aware of his being only son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, nephew of Luke Skywalker, but that was no justification. Resistance would have had to learn more about enemies if it intended to fight effectively. Remaining on his feet, boy leaned back against a wall, looking around. Cell hadn't seemed to change since Luke had built it, except for two long, large chains attached to ceiling. Kylo had returned to focusing on what really interested him. Sitting on ground, legs bent and spread apart, looking ahead, he was fumbling with his right arm until he was able to press point of limb interested him. By keeping his concentration, he had managed to use his mind to operate watch on his wrist, although it was stuck under cuffs. Two minutes later, clock had vibrated. Kylo had smiled. - Wait for my signal - Supreme Leader had ordered in a calm tone, speaking to nothing. Clock chirped like a cricket and Kylo mentally turned it off.

"Rey ..." closing his eyes, the young leader had leaned his head against wall, looking for contact with girl, but nothing had come. She still had to be unconscious. His concentration had been disturbed by a strong, familiar presence. Supreme Leader had stiffened, snapping his eyes open, pulling himself to his feet. - General Organa ...- he murmured in a dark voice, taking a few steps, hiding in the shadows. Wrapped in a long gray silk dress, cut in empire style, with a long silver vest, sleeveless, high-necked, the princess and leader of the Resistance, Leia Organa was standing in front of the prison bars, which she stared at him with wet eyes. "Ben ..." murmured the woman in a broken voice. - No. Kylo Ren. I advise you to go back upstairs, General, to safety. I killed her husband Han Solo ... you don't want me to do same with you, do you?- He had cut him short, staying in the shadows. His tone of voice was cold and hard. Leia had pursed her lips and, with a trembling chin, straightening her back, had left the room. Kylo had sat on the ground, gritting his teeth. By time he chased her away, he had felt woman's heart break, her physical weakness resulting from being thrown out of her spaceship after his attack, her belief he was lost. In perceiving mother's thought, Kylo had darkened. General Organa's belief had irritated him, though she was nothing to him anymore. Only an annoying shadow of the past, which had considered him lost since childhood. Where was the news? The sound of furious footsteps had torn Kylo from his reflections. - What did you do to our General? - Standing in front of cell entrance, Poe Dameron, best Resitance’s pilot, had accused him.  Man's dark brown eyes sent flashes, his short, curly and black hair seemed unkempt from too much going through his hands.  Fleshy mouth, surrounded by a veil of beard, was tight in a thin line, sign of Poe's attempt to maintain control. Behind him, Finn stared at him frowning, looking at him from bottom to top. Resolute and tense, the ex-stormtrooper seemed ready to shoot. Poe had opened cell, entering with a firm step, standing in front of Kylo. Finn had joined him silently. BB-8, Poe's round droid, had rolled beside master, emitting a shy beep. Kylo had looked at both men with a hard but calm expression, then shrugged. - I only remembered who I am, what I did and I could still do ...- he had explained placidly. Two remained staring at him with a dark questioning expression painted on their faces. Kylo had sighed patiently. - I killed Han Solo, your dear General’s husband and I could do same with her... with all of you - he had clarified. - Damn you! - Finn was no longer able to restrain himself and jumped towards him, taking him by neck and slamming him against wall. In Finn’s mind were still vivid images of Leia crying alone in her room for death of her beloved husband. Finn remembered well evening when, passing in front of General's room, he had heard loud sobs. Concerned, he entered in room without asking for permission, finding Leia, sitting at table crying bent and desperate, with one hand over her mouth, in front of an Han Solo’s old hologram. Without saying a word, dark young man had placed one knee on the ground, bending other and embraced Leia, making her head rest on shoulder and rocking her, while she was letting off steam. Now Kylo Ren had dared to turn knife over in that not yet closed wound. - Finn! - Poe had intervened, bringing him back to reality. -Mr Finn! - C3 - PO had entered the cell agitatedly, followed by RD - D2 -Don't do it, please! Upstairs there is an air so sad! General heard you go down to prisons and sent us to check... princess closed herself in her room and Miss Rey is still unconscious! Please, Mr. Finn, don't complicate things! - The intervention of C3 - PO had been strengthened by the metallic noises of RD - D2. -Listen to your new friends, FN-2187. You won't want to disappoint Rey ...- Kylo had commented, before hitting Finn with a headshot in the face. The young man had fallen to the ground, rolling and moaning, holding his bleeding nose with both hands. -Finn!- Poe had screamed, running to his friend and bending over him. BB-8 had emitted a series of loud beeps. Pilot had frantically searched his pockets for something to dab the other 's nose until he found a cloth originally intended for cleaning his X - Wing and passed it to young man, helping him to pull himself up. - I don't need to use the Force to beat you. I can do it even in normal conditions...- Kylo had continued. Poe had grabbed him by collar. -I don't like using these methods, but you wanted it ... - man had hissed between his teeth, forcefully bringing Kylo towards  chains hanging from cell’s ceiling. Finn had watched the scene with a grim expression, before rising to his feet, quickly wiping off residual blood and putting cloth in a pocket of his blue trousers, helping to chain his former commander. - If you wanted to hang me without difficulty, You could use blinding light you used to capture me in forest... - Kylo had provoked. RD - D2 had issued some beep trades. He had taken a quick look at droid he had known since childhood, before returning to focus on the two men in front of him. - Of course, I didn't think you would involve Rey ...- he continued. - I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care! That light has knocked you out and that's enough. As for Rey ... don't you dare pronounce her name! - Finn had replied angrily, tightening chains on his wrists and going away. -Really? It seems normal to me to be interested in my ex-ally ...- Kylo had commented casually. Finn had snapped like a snake, grabbing him again by collar. -He has nothing to do with you! - Boy had screamed, narrowing his eyes. Kylo had hidden his surprise. Rey hadn’t revealed anything to his friends about he had killed Snoke and wanted to kill Leia and Resistance... for possessing Anakin's lightsaber, leaving him on the ground, passed out, and stealing a ship to join them on Crait. Furious, Kylo had followed her, ordering her pilots to shoot down the Falcon led by her, Chewbacca and Finn. -I'm not lying. Rey left Ach - To and Luke to come to me. We killed Snoke and Praetorian Guards together - Kylo had revealed in a calm tone, staring in Finn’s eyes. Moving fast, his former subordinate had hit him in chest with a dagger hidden in belt of his pants. Kylo had tensed, pursing his lips and holding on to chains with both hands. Blade’s cold had clashed with warm blood dripped from his chest, giving a strange feeling of unreality, if it hadn't been for burning pain coming from diagonal cut pierced his shirt and flesh. - Finn! - Poe had called his friend back, taking him by arms, fighting with him to keep him still.

RD - D2 had reinforced the pilot's words with loud metallic noises. C3PO had started pacing up and down like an agitated hen. BB-8 had made a disjointed tour of cell, immediately returning to Poe. Kylo had quickly looked down at wound. -Good, FN-2187. You gave me back blow I dealt you at Star Killer Base, but mine was on your back, though and... I didn't lie about Rey - he observed mildly. Finn had managed to free his arm from Poe's grip and, clenching his hand into a fist, had hit Kylo in face. Supreme Leader had found himself with his face turned to one side. Poe had blocked his friend again, murmuring something in his ear, then he had turned to BB-8, instructing him to go back upstairs to perform check rounds inside base. Without moving, Kylo had glanced sideways at round and whirling white droid, with orange and silver outlines. Months earlier he himself had searched for that little robot, in whose memory was kept map missing piece to find Luke Skywalker, man wanted by both Snoke and Resistance. Looking for BB-8, Kylo had met Rey, to whom the little droid had attached himself like a puppy. Something vague and undefined had warned him to keep an eye on droid. At that moment, a strong sensation had shaken Kylo, ​​who had remained silent and motionless. She had recovered, sensed pain from wound Finn had inflicted on him and she was coming. Rey had overwhelmed everyone like a cyclone, surprising even him. It wasn't she stopped torture and freed him from chains, surprised Kylo. He knew this was in Rey nature, but he never expected her to heal him, offering him side a second time. Such naivety wasn’t acceptable. Rey had seen him kill Han, hurt Finn, wildly attack his precious Resistance on Crait. She knew very well his intention to kill Jedi, Sith, Resistance and everything represented past, why help him? Irritated by those thoughts, Kylo had attacked Rey, hurting her, undecided whether to take her and drag her with him, as he had planned from the beginning, or leave her there and forget her... Cardo's arrival had shaken him. Resistance guards had done little. Taking advantage of knowledge of place, Kylo had instructed Cardo about where to hide and multitude of conflicting feelings aroused by his presence at base, had facilitated things. Following instinct, Kylo had jumped on Rey. He knew he was physically stronger than she was and she couldn’t use Force in that cell. Nonetheless, Kylo had been surprised at intensity with which Rey had struggled. At times, he had to struggle to hold her back, especially when others and children had arrived. Kylo frowned suspiciously when he noticed Chewbacca was missing. In all that time prisoner, only one who he hadn't seen was huge Wookie, inseparable companions of Han Solo's adventures. Hairy giant seemed to have disappeared into thin air and he didn't like it. Finn's thoughts had torn Kylo out of those considerations, leaving him stunned. Did ex-stormtrooper really detest him to such an extent he thought he would hurt Rey? Kylo knew Finn wasn't really going to hurt Rey and, judging by his reactions, he really ignored what that light was had knocked him and Rey down. His thoughts, however, surprised him. Shortly before, Rey had blamed war and its protracted for some harsh behavior of his friends and, perhaps, he was right, but he still could not end conflict. -Let them go and I'll go with you - he was dumbfounded, hearing these words coming out of Rey's mouth. On reflection, such an offer was part of she's disposition. Kylo had folded his mouth in a grimace. He didn’t like position in which Rey had put him with such a proposal. -Unlike what you think, I don't like blackmailing people or even being teased ...- Kylo had replied, staring into her eyes. His mind was racing when they beat Snoke and Praetorian Guards. He offered his hand to her, while she turned against him as soon as she learned of his intention to exterminate her friends. Kylo had thought, fault of that result was his, he should have been more subtle and put her in front of the fait accompli, not open up like that. -I'm not setting you a trap - Rey had interrupted his thoughts flow, as if she had read in his mind. He stared at her intently, feeling Leia's scrutinizing and attentive gaze on him, noisy protests of others filling his ears, Cardo's lively and silent curiosity pricking him. Kylo had imperceptibly shook his head, to get rid of that useless tangle of emotions. -Okay ...- he had conceded, freeing Rey from his grip and using Force, to free her from handcuffs. -Please, come on - he invited her, indicating to walk in front of him. Kylo had looked sideways at his mother who, on the contrary, was openly staring at him and Rey. This attitude had made him uncomfortable, causing him to quicken his steps, forcing Rey and Cardo to run to follow him. Traveling Finalizer hadn't been easy. Rey was a volcano of emotions overwhelmed him too. She proceeded in silence, between him and Cardo, trying to hold back tears. Kylo admired her. Rey had gone from being an orphan, full of dreams and hopes, on a desert planet, forgotten by everyone, to discovering she had skills few knew and understood deeply, finding herself catapulted into a conflict foreign to her. Cardo had torn him from these reflections, announcing he would precede him to Finalizer. As soon as they were alone, Rey had turned to him, informing him she would never bend to his will. Kylo had sighed patiently when a disturbance in Force drew his attention. Moving fast, he had imprisoned Rey's wrists in anti-Force handcuffs again, obscuring her perceptions. She was already quite agitated, she didn't want it to explode completely. Pretending not to have noticed pursuers, Kylo had taken Rey in his arms to hurry section separated them from Finalizer. She fought like a fury, but he was determined to resist. Sooner or later she would calm down. Rey's bursting into tears, her despair, letting go against his chest, had disoriented him. First time he had carried her to his ship, he had put her to sleep using Force and then secured her to interrogation table. Apparently he had done well, looking problems she was giving him now. Kylo had thought about using Force to make her pass out again, but when he lowered his eyes on her, he realized Rey had gone from tears to sleep, her face streaked with tears. Kylo had sighed again and he had better placed her in his arms, following last stretch of road. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kylo had just finished shower, wearing black leather boots and pants and was about to call a medical robot when he heard a new disturbance in Force. He quickly put on a black shirt, thick ribbed, knee-length, with a zipper in middle. He fastened a high black leather belt to his waist and placed his lightsaber into a passerby, glanced at Rey still asleep and, with his black and wavy wet hair falling on his forehead, he left the room. Along corridor, Kylo heard General Hux's sour voice, threatening someone in an amused tone. He snapped his tongue, thinking how much mere hearing of man's voice irritated him. -What happens, General Hux? - He thundered, arriving decisively behind the man. The shadow of a smile passed lightly on Kylo's face, as he saw soldier jerked slightly, at his voice sound. Three stormtroopers with Hux snapped to attention. - So?- Kylo went on, noting four men were surrounding something or someone. Hux moved from his view. - Supreme Leader, we have captured these intruders ...- General indicated prisoners with one hand and Kylo narrowed his mouth, surprised to see who it was. Desperate beeps reached his ears. Kylo raised his eyes, frowning in anger, to see what was going away from the ship. He raised a hand to use Force to block and bring fugitive back, when a blue lightsaber appeared in front of his eyes. Supreme Leader changed goal, using Force to disarm attacker with ease. Lightsaber landed on the ground, extinguishing itself and rolling away a few steps. Without moving or even touching it, Kylo drew it to him, commandeering it. - Thank you, General. He can go back to his duties, here I think - Kylo ordered, dismissing Hux with a hand’s gesture. Man pounded his heels together. Bowing quickly, with his arms stiff at his sides, red hair moved away with a firm and fast pace. Kylo went back to staring at intruders. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Thanks ... nothing ... yes, I know. No ... don't bother me - followed by a medical robot, Kylo returned to room after fixing the intruders. At thought of fugitive he frowned. Kylo expected an attack at any moment, but he had already alerted Hux and practiced troops, giving precise instructions. He had thought of something about Rey as well, although he already anticipated her reaction. Kylo took off his shirt, placing it on a shelf. Shirtless, he sat at table, clenching his teeth and his fist, when robot cut the flesh of his forearm, working with his sharp tentacles to extract microchip he had placed under his skin. A feeling shook him, causing him to look up at Rey's slender lying figure. -Rey ... I know you're awake- Kylo announced, sighing patiently. - I would have a ... surprise for you if and when you deign to get up- he continued, raising his eyebrows with a grimace. Problem wasn’t surprise, but her reaction. Rey tensed, staying alert, then resigned herself to turn slowly, on her side, finding herself staring at Kylo Ren's brown and stormy eyes.

[sepublic]

Rough Draft for a Venom Sequel Plot

So in light of Andy Serkis being set to direct the upcoming sequel to Venom, and other similar news, I thought it’d be fun to bring up a rough draft I made for a Venom sequel, shortly after I’d watched the movie in theaters.

It’s actually the first of a few rough drafts I had in mind for Venom 2, as well as a  Venom 3. I also had ideas for a Venom 4, and maybe even Venom 5 and 6, but I’m not entirely sure.

For now, though, I thought it’d be fun to share some of these ideas had! I hope anyone reading this enjoys!

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Bloodshed, etc. below. The idea is that this film will be Rated R, so expect some heavy content.

           The movie starts off with a prologue of the initial origins of the Carnage Symbiote (AKA Red). Perhaps it was born of Life Foundation scientists scraping together bits and pieces from Venom and Riot. Alternatively, Red lands on Earth on its own. Either way, it has arrived, or is about to.

           Cut to a scene of an abusive husband doing typical horrible things in a poor neighborhood apartment. The poor wife is screaming for help, and the terrified son is watching. Eventually, the son musters up the courage and yells at his father to stop.

           The abusive father, in a calm rage, turns around and advances, lashing out and asking if the son ‘wants some’. Right on cue, the wall bursts, and in comes Venom with the biggest, dumbest, shit-eating grin on his face. “I want some!” He muses. The abusive man screams and tries to run, but Venom ensnares him.

           Venom tells the man that he will never hurt anyone again- No doubt due to the fact that he’ll be eaten. Venom then opens his mouth and lunges in, but instead bites the man’s arm off instead. The man, terrified, runs off, trying to staunch the bleeding. Within, Venom complains that he only got to eat PART of the guy, and Eddie muses that the two shouldn’t abuse their power too much.

           The terrified son, meanwhile, approaches Venom and asks who he is, and what else to do. Venom tells the son to always protect his mother –unless SHE abuses him, too- and then turns to leave, before adding the iconic “We are Venom” line. Then Venom swings away, having developed web-slinging as a technique.

           Cut to a montage of Venom going about, helping in whatever anti-hero way he can. A would-be rapist is quickly gulped up by Venom. A corrupt corporate dude manages to cheat people out of money, but Venom crashes in and forces him to return the money, threatening to eat the guy. Said dude questions how Venom knew of this, and Venom muses that he has ‘sources’ (AKA Eddie’s investigative journalism). A person is selling drugs and ruining lives and is predictably devoured, as is a human trafficker.

           Throughout the montage, we have Venom cracking really cheesy, edgy one-liners that he unironically enjoys and thinks are actually cool. Eddie can’t be bothered to break the truth to him, not that it matters all too much.

           The montage ends with Eddie and Venom overlooking San Francisco. The two discuss their recent string of crime-fighting, as well as subtler affairs involving Eddie’s own journalism. Venom is occasionally used to do things Eddie can’t legally do. All in all, it’s a good life, and Venom agrees with Eddie that their symbiosis was quite beneficial.

           Suddenly, the two spot some generic bank robbers getting away with a heist. The pair give chase, but are soon hindered due to disagreements on how to act. This slows down the duo and causes them to freeze up in vital moments, and it ends with Venom crash-landing in an alleyway while the robbers get away.

           Miffed, Eddie and Venom ask each other what the hell was THAT?! The two begin arguing over how they should’ve done this, or that… Their debate cools down with Eddie trying to break it simply to Venom, and Venom in return admits that back at his home, just called Homeworld, things are rather different. Recalling this, Eddie asks Venom what his home was like.

           Right on cue, we cut to an unknown alien space craft infiltrating earth’s atmosphere, undetected by satellites and sensors. It lands somewhere, and out come a group of Klyntar. Among them are Plague, the Apocalypse group, Clash, etc. (Basically some Symbiote OCs I made up) It’s clear some are currently inhabiting alien hosts, while the others find hosts in humans and even animals.

           The group talks with one another mission-style, trying to find Riot, and they decide to use the knowledge of their hosts to figure out where he is. Eventually one host reveals a memory of a news article about alleged alien sightings, one of whom resembles Riot. It also mentions another black Klyntar, whom the Homeworld squad deduce is Venom. They decide to head to San Francisco, having found a lead.

           We cut to a maximum security prison. We get a look at Cletus Kasady’s daily routine. Because it’s from Cletus’ perspective, he comes off as a cheery dude with a lot of interest in bloodshed, with everyone else exasperated. Other prisoners are creeped about him- Cletus likes to creep them out with smiles, stares, or friendly gestures. We see how carefully guards restrict Cletus, and we find out why. Cletus finds some unorthodox method to badly stab and wound a fellow prisoner, shedding lots of blood.

           As Cletus is restrained, he muses that he loves the smell of blood like coffee in the morning, stuff like that. From the shadows, some scientists watch and mark down Cletus as a candidate for testing.

           We cut back to Eddie and Venom going back to regular life and routine. We get to see Anne and Dan again- Dan helps Eddie and Venom with check ups to make sure the two are fine, and regularly prescribes chocolate, having deduced that it has a Klyntar-friendly chemical. Anne uses her abilities as a lawyer to help Eddie take down corrupt people. It’s a very odd sitcom of sorts between two couples, one of which consists of a human and Symbiote. We also get to see some of Mrs. Chen, and Richard. Both are doing better as of late, and we get to see more of Richard’s family and how busy he is. Eddie always makes sure to help, and Venom remarks that he likes the guy.

           We then get (in no particular order) various scenes. We see Cletus be rudely awoken and seized for an experiment, which he cheerfully ponders about. Cletus is tied down to a chair and injected with something, and in typical Cletus fashion reacts enthusiastically to the procedure. Nothing happens, and scans show the ‘Proto Symbiote’ apparently dying. Giving up, the scientists send Cletus back to his cell. [Alternatively, Red just finds Cletus and bonds to him in his sleep]

           It seems to be worthless, until Cletus awakens to hear a voice in his head. Unfazed, he muses about gaining schizophrenia. The voice clarifies itself as a Symbiote, it thinks… To be frank, it’s not sure. Either way, the two interact, and Cletus explains himself and his world view. Red gets to see Cletus’ life and memories, questioning him on things as Cletus goes through his routine. The regular guards, unaware of the experiments, assume Cletus has gone even crazier. Soon, Cletus and Red hit off and become friends, and Red expresses its own desire to kill. The two experiment on their abilities, and are blatantly peas in a pod.

           Eventually, Red and Cletus decide to act. The old guard that hates Cletus mocks him, and in response Cletus cheerfully lashes out with a long red spear, impaling the guard and killing him. As blood spurts crazily and Cletus cheers, Red becomes exhilarant and enthusiastic. However, their celebration is cut off when alarms sound, and as they hear guards storming in, Cletus bemoans a potential separation.

           Red reassures him, and spawns hands that tear the cage apart. Guards come in and confront Cletus, telling him to put his hands up. Cletus and Red more or less look at each other knowlingly and are all, ‘Ready, Partner’ when Cletus suddenly forms into Carnage. We first see Carnage as a shadow stretching over terrified guards.

           Cut to prisoners just mulling about on an enclosed courtyard, guards nearby, when a guard flies in and hits the wall like a fly, bleeding and torn apart. As everything stops to note, other bloody body is tossed in, and in steps in Carnage- We get to see him in his fully, bloody crimson glory.

           Carnage gleefully greets everyone, expressing a desire to kill- And then goes on a massacre. Because this is from Carnage’s viewpoint, the whole massacre is played off as enjoyable and humorous, probably with an inappropriate song like Mr. Blue Sky playing in the background.

           Prisoners and guards try to escape or fight back, but it’s for naught. One tries to access an elevator, but Carnage is all ‘No no no!’ playfully and kills the schmuck. It ends with the entire floor smeared and awash in blood. Carnage laughs gleefully and dubs itself by its name, due to Cletus noting Carnage to be his favorite word, followed by Massacre, Bloodshed, etc.

           Carnage prepares to leave, declaring “We… no, I am Carnage!” before breaking out of prison and into the night.

           We get a scene of Eddie and Venom’s domestic life and their constant arguing. At one point Eddie questions why the two are together, and Venom muses that it’s because they are the only ones for one another. Next is a cut to Mrs. Chen, taking out the garbage or some other mundane task. She smells something funny and hears dripping, rounds the corner…

           And sees a torn-apart corpse, blood smeared everywhere, the word Carnage painted above the dead body. Mrs. Chen screams, and then we see Eddie and Venom in the midst of an argument, only to get a call from Eddie’s boss about a murder he needs to see.

           Eddie heads off and arrives at the gruesome scene, surrounded by police. He sees the sight and is disgusted, and even Venom is repulsed, noting it to be such a waste of good food before Eddie corrects him.

           As people question who could have done this, Eddie hears about Cletus’ escape and realizes that he has a Symbiote. As the two question how this is possible, Eddie gets notifications of more and more similar corpses being discovered across San Francisco. As this horrifying realization dawns in, we then cut to Carnage happily and darkly slaughtering a victim before setting to work writing his name.

           Eddie and Venom put together a team plan. We see stuff from Anne, Dan, Mrs. Chen, and Richard. The next night Eddie and Venom set out in Venom form, tracking down Carnage, when they’re suddenly ambushed by the Homeworld squad.

           They interrogate Venom, demanding to know why Venom is being a freak and wasting perfectly good food like this, where Riot is, why they fought, etc. It’s clear that neither group is thrilled to see the other, and Venom explains that he found an awesome host named Eddie. The Homeworld Squad is repulsed by the idea, and then hear that Venom killed Riot.

           They all laugh this idea off in disbelief. They’d rather believe that Riot accidentally killed himself, and this irks Venom. Eddie and Venom try to fight, but are clearly outmatched and are forced to retreat. Police rush in and the homeworld squad decides to retreat.

           As Venom escapes, they come across Carnage finishing a murder. Carnage notes Venom and mocks and challenges him before escaping. Venom tries to chase, but isn’t fast enough. Eddie asks Venom if he recognizes Carnage, but he doesn’t.

           Eddie and Venom devise a plan to lure in Carnage. It works- They confront Carnage in a power plant overlooking the sea or something. As the two circle and trade words, Venom asks what’s the deal with ‘I am Carnage’, not ‘We are Carnage’. Carnage explains that Cletus and Red’s symbiosis is so pure and complete that they’re practically singular.

           Venom and Carnage fight, but Carnage is the clear winner in this fight. Venom is constantly struggling and panics, which leads to Eddie and Ven fighting and hesitating. Carnage senses this and acts on it, pinning down Venom. Carnage brags that Venom’s bond is not as strong as his.

           Cue the classic comic scene of Carnage prying Eddie and Venom apart. The two try to keep connected by the tips of their fingers but are torn apart. Venom is flung aside, and Carnage dangles Eddie over a cliff, deciding to spill his blood into the ocean below. Venom attacks from behind, causing Carnage to drop Eddie into the sea below.

           Eddie loses consciousness, and comes to in the hospital with a concerned Dan and Anne. They explain how Eddie was found, and Dan reveals he snuck Venom in to heal Eddie. Ven explains that Carnage left. Venom offers to bond with and heal Eddie, but when he tries the two have issues. Venom is rejected, and the two realize they’re becoming incompatible. The duo becomes frustrated and angry at one another, questioning their bond, and as they fume, Dan timidly suggests they take some time off. The two consider it, but Eddie asks who will defend San Franscisco. Anne volunteers to be She-Venom, low key enjoying the power rush and freedom.

           Eddie heals and decides to take a few days off to recuperate. He interacts with his friends, and Chen and Richard can tell Eddie is down. Meanwhile, She-Venom operates. Ven questions why they should even fight Carnage, who wants humanity alive as much as Venom- Anne tries to explain it in Eddie’s terms, but Venom doesn’t understand. The two at least bond over a mutual love and frustration of Eddie, however.

           Meanwhile, a store owner checks their chocolate stores to see the Homeworld squad devouring it, and is eaten. As Homeworld Squad discusses the delights of chocolate and argue over who got to eat the human, they consider what next to do. Riot apparently is dead- So what now?

           Well, they can at least tell that this planet has plenty of food, so perhaps they can feast- And maybe even head back to Homeworld and bring everyone else. Carnage is listening in on this and acts, tracing the squad to their ship and destroying it, enraging them. Carnage escapes, with Cletus and Red happily noting that Earth must be protected.

           Carnage escapes… only to run into She-Venom, who tries to fight him with a police squad. Carnage pins her down and kills several policemen in a big action sequence.

           We get more Eddie and Richard interaction. Eddie talks to Richard, who has a wife, about relationship issues, avoiding explaining how Venom is an alien symbiote. Richard provides his own advice, while Anne gives Venom her own insight. The two also note that they have greater differences than Eddie and Venom, and laugh over it.

           Eventually, it all culminates in She-Venom trying to fight the Homeworld Squad, being outgunned and outnumbered, until Carnage comes in. Carnage’s bond and skills allows him to defeat the Homeworld squad, with him slicing Plague in half for example. He also utilizes a flamethrower and even a sound device against Apocalypse- Carnage has the stronger bond and outlasts Apocalypse, who gives in and splits before Carnage. Carnage turns off the device and defeats the individual War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death symbiotes. Deprived of hosts, all of the Klyntar retreat into the sewers.

           Carnage is triumphant, and then She-Venom hits him over the head with something. It breaks and Carnage is unfazed, because his bond is stronger. He fights She-Venom, pinning them down and mocking Venom for resorting to a c-list, bootleg relationship. She-Venom reactives Carnage’s device, and while Anne and Venom split, they keep the device on long enough to force Carnage to retreat.

           They agree that they need to get Eddie and Venom back together. Eddie and Venom meet up and try to sort out their differences, but when they try to refuse, they reject one another. It seems neither has sorted things out yet.

           This leads to both getting frustrated again and even lashing out at Dan, before apologizing to him. Anne angrily criticizes Eddie and Venom’s egos, and Eddie storms off.

           He soon gets a call for a job, and gains an informant. This anonymous person asks Eddie to meet at a place, and Richard gives him a drive because Eddie’s bike is busted. Richard waits outside and Eddie confronts the informant in a shadowy parking lot, only for Carnage to emerge, revealing it was a trap.

           Carnage muses that they hated to leave a job unfinished and have come to finish off Eddie. Eddie tries to avoid death, with Carnage playing a game of cat and mouse. He decides to finish things off, when Richard drives the car into him.

           He yells at Eddie to get in, but when Carnage lashes out, Richard takes the blow for Eddie. Eddie is horrified, even as SWAT reinforcements come in. Carnage laughs and decides to let Eddie wallow in misery a bit before leaving.

           Richard dies in Eddie’s arms and asks for him to get back with his friend, before recalling his own wife and kids. Eddie genuinely sobs as the uncertain SWATs surround him, concerned, and the camera pans up to the lonely night sky.

           Cut to Richard’s funeral. A somber Eddie gives a speech, and Anne and Dan arrive. Anne and Eddie discuss, Venom in tow, and Eddie and Venom reach a consensus on stopping Carnage when Venom notes how he liked Richard, giving Eddie a chance to explain things to Venom in more Klyntar terms.

           It’s decided- They have to stop Carnage once and for all. A plan is devised- Dan supplies Eddie with a REM scan machine to hurt Carnage. The plan culminates in She-Venom luring Carnage to some fancy skyscraper.

           Carnage defeats She-Venom, but Eddie comes in with a flamethrower and the REM scan machine. Carnage is seemingly subdued, but She-Venom is split apart. At the last second Carnage lashes out, breaking the flamethrower. The ceiling collapses on Eddie, but not before Venom reaches out to him and vice-versa.

           The rubble lands, and Carnage turns on a vulnerable Anne, musing about her poor life choices and the weakness of Eddie and Venom. On cue, the rubble rumbles and clears apart to reveal a newly-formed Venom and Eddie, now back together and stronger than ever before. As Anne gets somewhere safe, Venom and Carnage circle one another, with Carnage mocking and questioning Venom’s newly-fixed bond.

           In response? Venom challenges Carnage, leading to a climactic final battle beween the two. Floors and windows are shattered, but Venom manages to keep up with Carnage and even land several good hits. It’s clear that their bond has been restored to greater lengths than ever before.

           The battle leads to the basement of the building and its power source. Carnage redoes the tear-apart move on Eddie and Venom, but they remain attached by the fingers. Annoyed, Carnage tries to split them with a knife, but it rebounds, not strong enough. Sure enough, Eddie and Venom fuse back together, and in a smooth motion slam a punch into Carnage, sending him flying into exposed circuitry.

           As it electrocutes Carnage, Venom acknowledges the strength of his bond, before telling him not to underestimate their bond as well. Red fluctuates to reveal a similarly shocked Cletus, and Venom escapes as the building collapses on Carnage, seemingly killing them.

           The protagonists celebrate, as authorities return to report a charred corpse and ashes. The epilogue has Eddie and Venom celebrate their reunification, while visiting Richard’s family to see that they are well.

           As they leave, they notice another robbery on the news. Looking to one another, Eddie asks Venom if the two want another go, and Venom agrees with “With you? Always.” Venom forms and swings off.

           Cue credits. Then there’s an end-credits scene with a wounded, burnt Cletus being interrogated in a lab. Apparently the corpse was a fake. As far as Cletus knows, Red died taking the damage from the shock and collapse to protect him, and he mourns as scientists analyze him. In a dark spot, he closes his eyes, dozing off, and the last thing he hears is Red’s voice reassuring him that they’re ALWAYS there for him.

           In another end-credits scene, a sewer worker is heading down to the sewers to check an issue with the system. Cue a horror scene where he’s cornered in the shadows and drops his flashlight, picking it up just in time to see the Homeworld symbiotes closing in on him. Cue a scream, and darkness once more.

-Additional bits;

-There’s a corrupt tech ceo that Eddie is trying to take down. Perhaps he is the one that Venom intimidates into giving back money. Later, Carnage attacks the person and forces them to create a sound-device against Klyntar for him, as well as explosives to collapse the sewer tunnels on the Homeworld squad under the impression it would kill them. When Carnage lures Eddie in by pretending to be an informant snitching on said CEO, he drops the CEO’s bloody body to reveal that he killed the man shortly after.

-Potentially, Carnage could be the result of scientists implanting ‘Symbiote embryos’ into test subjects, hoping to create a Human-Symbiote bond that is formed through biology. Only Red and Cletus bond, and it’s left ambiguous as to why they worked- Was it luck, or was it because the two genuinely match and enjoy each other? Either way, Red and Cletus’ bond means the two can’t separate from one another, ever. Red, after being implanted into Cletus’ bloodstream, slowly develops and grows within him and initially manifests as just a voice before the two perform their prison break.

-The Scientists responsible for Red are members of some strange cult that worships Symbiotes. They’re led by a masked, cloaked figure with a distorted voice who has an uncanny understanding of Symbiotes despite being human.

-There’s probably going to be a subplot involving Jenna Cole, Andi Benton, and/or Tanis Nieves.

[shipmistress9]

Keep Her Safe - 3

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Rating: T

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Modern AU - Kinda Military AU - married Hiccstrid - Original child of Hiccstrid - angst - feels

. o O o .

So, here we go. The last chapter to this 'originally-having-been-planned-as-a-oneshot' thing.

. o O o .

Exhausted.

That was how she felt as she dragged herself up the handful of steps toward their entrance door. Maybe it was because she hadn't really slept in three days, or maybe it was that her wounds – the deep cuts on her upper arm and her thigh, and the smaller ones all over her body – hurt, the pain draining her of all strength.

Maybe it was a combination of both.

She probably should have listened to her commander, should have agreed to be admitted to the ward, to let the medics tend to her wounds with their special treatments. She should have rested, let drugs knock her out until her body had recovered. Surely, that would have been the wiser choice.

Astrid took a shuddering breath, and winced as she lifted her hand to press the thumb to the scanner lock next to the door. Yes, logically she should have stayed at the HQ and return home a day or two later, healed and well.

But her being here had nothing to do with logic.

With a low click, the door opened, and she stepped inside, quietly. The foyer was dark, but despite the late hour, soft light fell through the open doorway to the living room. Suppressing all pained noises, she took off her shoes and the torn jacket, let them drop near the wardrobe, and then all but limped into the other room.

The comfortable and cosy atmosphere hit her almost like an avalanche. It was warm, the remains of a fire still glowing in the fireplace. The soft light that had enticed her to come here came from a dozen or so flickering candles – artificial electrical ones, but the difference was only noticeable because she knew. The low tea table was set with two plates and the leftovers of an enormous chocolate cake. With crumps still all over the place, it looked chaotic but in an endearing way. This table – the entire room really – had clearly been used today, had been meant to be used further, and it gave the room this wonderful lived-in feeling. Home. But it also reminded her of what she’d missed today.

Suppressing a sigh, she pushed that thought away. Dwelling on the past, whichever part of it, wouldn’t do her any good right now. Instead, she quietly stepped closer and around a side table to where Hiccup’s sleeping form lay on the sofa.

Astrid took a minute to just watch him. He looked so soft, his messy hair spread over his arm beneath his head and covering his eyes. He was still wearing his day clothes – a comfortable hoodie, jogging trousers, and slippers – and hadn’t even covered himself with the woollen blanket lying at his feet. As if he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. His face was relaxed, even though even sleep wasn’t enough to smooth out the worried lines on his forehead or around his eyes and mouth. Astrid swallowed as her eyes landed on his lips. His kiss had been her last memory of her home on this cursed mission, of her family, and looking at his mouth now brought back the truth about what had happened with brutal force.

Trembling, she sat down next to him. A part of her wanted to let Hiccup sleep, let him rest, because he looked as if he needed it. That part just wanted to curl up next to him and rest too, wanted to sleep wrapped in his warmth, forget, and deal with everything else tomorrow. But that wasn’t why she’d hurried home tonight, and, of course, he instantly woke up anyway.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted him in a weak voice as he stirred. She reached out to touch his face, but didn't finish the movement. For some reason, she didn't dare to do so.

Hiccup blinked up at her, eyes still dazed, and she wondered how he would receive her not-quite-usual appearance. Her messy hair and dirty face, the scratches all over her skin. The leftover traces of blood that might or might not still be visible.

He swallowed, but didn’t move. “If this is another dream, then please don’t wake me,” he eventually murmured, still unmoving. His tired eyes never left her, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he only so much as blinked.

Astrid gasped, something between a laugh and a sob. “It’s not a dream. I’m really here.” She forced something like a smile onto her face. “Happy Birthday.”

Now it was on Hiccup to make nearly the same strangled noise, nearly choking. Then he suddenly sat up in one quick motion, and before she knew what happened she found herself cradled in a tight embrace.

“Oh Gods,” he muttered over and over. “Oh, Gods, you’re real. You’re here. You’re alive.” He nearly crushed her, and she couldn’t suppress a pained whimper as his hand unknowingly pressed into the wound on her arm. He immediately loosened his hold and pulled back to look her over, even though his hands didn’t let go of her. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance. Not just her face, but also the dirty and torn uniform, the wide cut in her trousers with the clearly visible, bloodstained bandage beneath. She hadn’t even wanted to wait for someone to bring her new clothes in her haste to return to him.

“I… assume it didn’t go smoothly?” he eventually murmured. He sounded incredibly tired.

“No, it didn’t,” she confirmed, gulping. It hadn’t gone smoothly at all.

Hiccup nodded, questions clearly burning in his eyes, but he knew better than to ask for details. Instead, he pulled her into his arms again, more carefully this time, until she effectively sat across his lap, nestled against his chest, and with his mouth and nose pressed into her chaotic hair. It felt good, warm. Safe.

“Gods, I thought you were dead…” he muttered after a while, his arms around her twitching as if he wanted to pull her tighter again but didn’t dare to. Astrid pressed herself closer to his chest, and let all tension flow out of her, let him be her strength. Hiccup seemed to appreciate it, his arms carefully tightening after all. “I was prepared for some agents to show up here at any moment and deliver the news...” he murmured but trailed off, voice too weak to go on, and instead pressed a hard kiss against her scalp. His body was trembling.

Yes, it was the right decision to come back tonight instead of waiting another day…

Astrid could feel his ragged breathing against her skin, hot and panting. She burrowed deeper into his embrace, clinging to him. “I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… to…” she trailed off, not sure what to say. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he knew that. That didn’t change that she had hurt him, repeatedly. That it was unavoidable. Or had been…

“I know. And I don’t blame you,” Hiccup sighed, and his arms around her grew a little softer again. “I just… Please, don’t ever do that again,” he mumbled after a while. His voice sounded raspy, as if he was close to tears, broken. A weirdly strangled noise escaped her, but before she could actually say anything, tell him, he already continued. “Not… not leaving, I mean,” he clarified, gulping. “I know you’ll have to. But don’t tell me again when you’re supposed to be back. Waiting and not knowing when you’re going to be back… that’s hard. But knowing and you not coming back as planned… That’s so much worse!”

The last bit of strength seemed to leave Astrid’s body at the tone in his voice. He sounded so broken, lost and hurt, and Astrid felt like something broke inside her, too. Through all these years, he’d been so strong, had never said anything, had never complained. But this time, it had been too much. For all of them.

“I won’t,” she whispered, slightly muffled against his hoodie. Hiccup swallowed and nodded, but he didn’t understand. How could he? So she shook her head, and clarified, “I won’t leave again.”

It took a moment or three before the words truly sank in. Then he grunted, surprised, and pushed her away a little to be able to look at her. His face was a display of utter confusion. “What?”

Astrid shrugged, and gave him a shy smile. “I won’t leave again,” she repeated, then added emphatically, “Ever.”

Watching the kaleidoscope of emotions that crossed Hiccup’s face nearly tore her apart. There was confusion, hope and joy, but also disbelieve and sorrow.  “But…” he eventually stammered. “But you love your job.”

“I do,” she nodded, gulping. Then she added in a lower voice, barely more than a whisper. “But I love you more.”

Hiccup’s breathing grew faster, and he swallowed again as he stared at her. Hope and pain fighting for dominance on his face. “But… I don’t want you to give up the job you love,” he finally muttered. “Not for me.”

Astrid whimpered. Gods, how was it possible that she deserved this man? She took a deep breath, and lifted her hand to let her fingers caress his freckled face, his bushy eyebrows, his chiselled jaw, and the stubbles around his thin lips. She was buying time, she knew that, needed to collect her thoughts before she could answer him, before she could explain. Barely more than an hour had passed since she’d made this decision, and it had been one she’d made in the matter of a heartbeat. It was the right one, she didn’t doubt that, but she still needed to put order into all her thoughts.

“Hiccup,” she began slowly. “I’m not doing that for you… Not exclusively, at least. It’s also for Bri, and for myself. For us.” He still looked confused, so she went on without any more preamble. “A few weeks ago, my commander offered me a new position. Operation manager. Leading and coordinating missions from the HQ instead of heading right in. But I–” she sucked in another breath, “–I refused. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, that I didn’t ask your opinion. I know I should have. But I–”

“I wouldn’t have tried to talk you into taking that offer,” Hiccup interrupted her gently. And she believed him, but she also knew what it would have cost him.

“I know,” she sighed, grimacing. “I know you wouldn’t have done that. But it didn’t seem fair to tell you that option was within reach when I knew I wouldn’t take it. I… didn’t feel ready for that yet. It’s not that I don’t want to do this job… eventually. But not now, later, after my running missions were all finished and closed. In a couple of years, maybe...”

He nodded, and, biting his lip, brushed a loose strand of her hair out of her face. “I see,” he whispered. He hesitated, swallowed, and then asked, “What changed your mind?”

She noticed how his eyes roamed over her, taking in all the details she rather wished he wouldn’t see. The scrapes and bruises on her face from when she’d fallen or had been beaten. The stains in her hair, probably not recognisable as blood, but she was sure he would know. The small burns here and there...

She took a few ragged breaths, pondering how much she could tell him, and then decided in a heartbeat that she didn’t care. “You were right,” she breathed. “This mission didn’t go smoothly at all. Somehow, they knew we were coming, when and how. We ran into an ambush, and… and everything went wrong. Hea– two of my comrades were badly wounded right away, we lost the hostage we were supposed to rescue and–” she choked at the memory, “–and I almost died, too.” She could feel how Hiccup’s hands, his entire body really, started to tremble. “I got engaged in close combat. Not a problem usually, but I was already injured, and–”

Hiccup silenced her with a finger over her lips. He didn’t say anything, only shook his head and looked at her with eerily empty eyes, and she understood. He didn’t need to hear all the details. Didn’t want to.

Nodding, she went on, “There was a moment then when was helpless. I thought the man would kill me any moment. And in that second, I realised that I wouldn’t get those couple of years. That this was it. That I would do everything to turn back time and take that offer after all. And I prayed to all the Gods I knew to just… let me see you and Bri again, one last time.”

Her voice broke, and tears welled up in her eyes. The Gods had answered her desperate prayer, and the moment she’d been able to speak to her commander, she’d known which path she had to take. Because she might not be this lucky the next time.

For a long time, neither of them said a word. They just sat there on their worn-out sofa, and his warm arms around her felt better than anything else she could ever imagine. Every now and then, small waves of shivers and sobs ran through her as the tension finally glided off her and the memories returned. The explosions, the pain, the sense of despair and helplessness. Heather’s and Cami’s screams and so much blood… The face of that man appeared in her mind again, and only when Hiccup’s soothing noises and the rubbing motion of his hands brought her back into the now did she realise that she was crying.

“It’s okay,” he whispered over and over, and as if under a spell she slowly calmed again. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

. o O o .

Hiccup woke, as nearly every day, to the sound of quickly approaching tripling steps, and mentally prepared himself to be jumped by an overly awake four-year-old. When that impact failed to occur, however, he blinked himself awake, slightly worried by what might have happened for Bri to change her habits. Had she tried to prepare breakfast again and had dumped the entire kitchen in flour? That already had happened… once or twice.

But when he finally had his eyes open and spotted Bri in the open door to the bedroom, she didn’t look as if she’d turned any part of the house into a mess. Instead, she stood utterly still, unmoving, and looked… Stunned? Surprised? Happy?

He was about to shift out of bed and get up when she finally left her frozen-like state after all.

“Mummy!” she squealed, and a second later the usual impact of her jumping on the bed hit him after all.

Right...

Astrid was back!

So that hadn't been a dream after all.

“Hey, little cupcake!”

The smile in her voice was practically audible to him, and Hiccup turned around on the bed to look at them – Astrid still on her back with Bri lying plain on top of her, her thin arms disappearing in Astrid's wild morning hair.

“You're back!” came Bri's muffled voice before she sat up to give her mother a confused look. “When did you come back? I just woke up.“

A warm smile spread across Hiccup's face as he watched the two most important people in his life. Bri was still in this wonderful age where she believed that, when she slept, the entire world had to be asleep too.

But it was probably better this way. It was good that Bri hadn't seen Astrid last night, not the injuries and none of the blood either. They'd talked a lot as he'd treated her wounds, about what had happened to her – what she could tell, at least, and what he'd been able to stand to hear – and about the future. He'd redressed the deep cuts, and had cleaned and put ointment on the others to keep them from getting infected. He was glad that, even after years, basics like these still came naturally to him; he wasn't sure whether he'd been able to concentrate on his actions otherwise. Because he knew enough about wounds to get an idea of what had happened to Astrid, even as she didn't go into details.

But now, with all traces of blood and dirt washed off her skin and after some hours of sleep, she looked much better, normal enough for Bri not to notice anything.

“I came home last night,” Astrid explained with a soft smile. “But tell me, what did you do while I was gone? Did you look after your dad as I asked you to?”

Bri nodded, and instantly dove into a lengthy monologue about what Astrid had missed; them baking cake the other day, how she’d played with her friends, and about another child at the nursery that had fallen and hurt their arm. Smiling, Astrid listened, nodding and humming in reaction to everything she was told. But her hand slid through the covers until it found him, her fingers weaving through his, and he squeezed them lightly.

It was time to get up and prepare breakfast. Hiccup felt his stomach rumbling and knew that, as soon as Bri remembered being hungry, breakfast would need to be ready quickly. But he couldn't bring himself to go downstairs, not yet. Instead, he lay down next to Astrid again, and she shuffled until his arm was around her shoulders. Bri, unperturbed by the jostling, still sat on her stomach and was still talking.

It was a moment of pure comfort and bliss, easy and light. A moment he would treasure, would stow away in his mind so that he could retrieve it whenever he needed something to cheer him up. But then he remembered that he wouldn’t need that anymore. Astrid wouldn’t leave again, wouldn’t head out into danger all on her own, leaving him behind with nothing but the hope that she would come back.

Laughing quietly – and earning himself a confused look from Bri – he nuzzled into Astrid’s hair. “I love you!” he whispered, chuckling, unable to help himself as the joy bubbled over inside him. She was safe now.

And he would do whatever he could to keep her that way.

. o O o .

So there, it's done. I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but it refused to get better, so this is how it is.

A shoutout to all those people heading out into danger to help others and also to those staying behind, waiting. You're all stronger than I could ever be... 

(Links to the full version in the reblogg)

[winterverses]

Walking Wounded - Chapter Sixty-Five

After those first few days, it seemed like life was a whirl of activity even though Kirk no longer had the day-to-day running of the ship to account for. Every day he found himself having to leave the apartment in the morning to speak to various higher-ups, to go over preparations for resuming the five year mission and potential courses with Ops, and most often of all, to testify in the damn trials. Anne got up with him, or sometimes even earlier, making breakfast with as little synth as she could get away with. That was the only good part of waking up that early with no Enterprise to run. Well, morning sex was pretty fantastic too, but everything else he had to do was boring as hell, or frustrating. At least the media hadn’t been tipped off again, though once or twice he noticed someone taking a holo of him.

Anne sometimes left the apartment with him, going on mysterious errands of her own. She wasn’t involved in the trials. She’d wanted nothing to do with anyone on trial but Loche, and Justice hadn't felt it necessary to summon her. He knew that she continued to see Claudia, but beyond that, he wasn’t sure. The dark mood Anne had fallen into after the call from her mother had worried him, especially because he’d seen that she was trying to chase it away or at least hide it and neither he nor she had been able to lift it much until she’d seen Claudia again, despite their excesses. The sessions definitely helped her keep it together, and whatever else she was doing seemed to help too. By the time he got home every day, she was already there, ready to hit the building’s gym before they decided what to do with the rest of their night. She did her barre exercises while he did a stepped up version of his normal routine-- to account for all those indulgent meals-- and then they continued with bar fighting and self defense. Other residents of the apartment building sometimes looked alarmed when they saw him attempting to “hit” a tiny little thing like her, but she was fast enough to keep mostly away from him and he always pulled his punches to a light tap when he landed one. Luckily, no one ever seemed to connect them with the periodic news stories cropping up. That would have been pretty crazy to try to explain.

The media was an ongoing problem, even though there were no longer crowds like the one that had greeted him at Justice. The story had taken on a bit of a life of its own by then, much the way it had happened after the Franklin had made its last fiery flight to save Yorktown and he’d made his frantic dive to stop Krall; it had been seized, examined, dissected, the motivations speculated on, the people involved both accused and acquitted by turns. It was a macrocosm of the rumor mill aboard the ship. Because he could do nothing about it, he paid as little attention as he could, and encouraged Anne to ignore it completely. It bothered her far more than it bothered him. She’d avoided it so ferociously before.

Still, it had caught public interest, and every so often when they were out they would be approached by someone who either wanted an interview or had become too personally invested in the stories they’d read. Anne swore up and down after every incident that she was going to change her hair, her face, everything, until she was no longer recognizable and people stopped bothering her. Kirk just agreed and told her to do whatever she liked, knowing she would never get around to it. She thought of her body as a physical record of her experiences, which was somewhat odd to him-- if he thought the same way he’d still be dead-- but he liked her the way she was, so he never tried to push the more practical ideas like changing her hair.

Eventually, though, the rumors started to get out of hand. He and Anne were both being torn apart in public speculation, and continued silence was only taunting the piranhas. He’d asked to consult with Commodore Paris before deciding what to do. As the highest ranking officer on Yorktown base, and someone with decades of experience in administration at her level, she merited a voice in the discussion and would have useful advice. Anne hadn’t wanted to attend the meeting, saying she wasn’t really a member of Starfleet and shouldn’t take up the Commodore’s time, but asked him to pass on assurances that she would abide by whatever Kirk thought was reasonable.

“Whatever I think is reasonable?” he’d asked as they discussed it the night before his meeting.

Anne had yanked the covers up further and buried her face in his chest. “Yes. Now shut up, you wore me out and I’m sleeping.”

He couldn’t help a snicker. “You are not. You’re too crabby that I mentioned it to fall asleep now.” She wasn’t really as irritated as she sounded. It was just that she’d avoided talking about it all day and had thought she was home free once they’d gotten into bed.

With a dramatic sigh, Anne rolled over onto her back. “Fine. Yes. You are correct. But I want nothing to do with this and if you tell me that I must give you some input, all I have to offer is that I don’t care what the public thinks. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to be left alone.”

“And if I think it’s reasonable to do something you don’t--”

“I’ll do it, of course,” Anne said, as if this should have been obvious.

“And, just to clarify, if Commodore Paris thinks something is reasonable and I don’t--”

“You are extremely aggravating. Of course I’ll do what you think is best. What do I care for her opinion either?”

The more irritated she was, the less American she sounded, though her accent didn’t change. It was kind of hilarious. “All right then. As long as you’re okay with doing what I decide even if you disagree.”

“How could I possibly disagree if I have no interest whatsoever?” she sniffed.

“As long as you don’t complain,” he’d said, pulling her close. Of course, they couldn’t just go to sleep after that, and since her irritation was more for the subject matter than it was for him, she’d softened up as soon as the subject changed to more interesting topics, with the result that he was a little tired at his meeting the next morning.

Commodore Paris hadn’t commented on it, though he knew those piercing dark eyes of hers noted everything. She’d waited until he was standing in front of her desk before speaking, her expression neutral. “Captain Kirk. I am glad to see that you wish my advice in this matter.”

“I hope to minimize the media attention as much as possible. You know I don’t enjoy the spotlight.” After the Franklin and Krall there had been a bit of attention from the press, which he’d escaped mostly by virtue of not being where they thought he would be and not giving any but the blandest, shortest comments he could get away with until they realized he wasn’t going to sit still for the holo if he could help it. And, being that he was a somewhat heroic figure in the eyes of Yorktown at large, they’d backed off out of respect and mostly stuck to file holos and recycled sound bites. The way Loche’s women had spread sensationalized bits of misinformation in order to stoke media interest, though, that wasn’t about to happen any time soon.

“I understand your frustration. You are a man of action first, and you do not wish to participate in the endless circumlocutions of those who know nothing of action. But where is your companion?” Commodore Paris looked to the door, and then back to him as if making a point.

He knew he’d told her that Anne wouldn’t be attending. This was her way of gently making him answer for Anne’s actions… something he then realized would be a very pertinent part of any media discussion. He had to give it to her, Commodore Paris was subtle. “She wishes me to speak for her at this particular meeting, and has said she’ll abide by whatever decisions I make about how to move forward.” He sure as hell wasn’t going to say that she rejected the whole idea that Starfleet ranks applied to her in any way.

“Next time we speak of this, you will require her to attend,” the Commodore said, her voice just as neutral, her gaze like a skewer, holding him in place.

She had him trapped. If he said yes, he’d have to compel Anne to come. If he said no, he’d be admitting that he couldn’t or didn’t want to apply the control Anne said he had. He had to choose his words carefully. “I’ll ask that she attend. I have confidence that she will do exactly as she says, and if she says that she will follow my lead, I believe her.”

The Commodore gave him a long, evaluating look, and then seemed to consider that sufficient. “This media attention will not die down completely as long as it is known that you are still on the base and still involved in the trials. The most troublesome elements are the human elements that were not present in your previous exploits: the suggestion of fallibility, and perhaps trickery; the intimation of emotions beyond the straightforward heroics that made up your last skirmishes with the press. It is very easy to laud a hero and then forget about him. He has no depth, no complexity to inflame the mind. You have, unfortunately, gained some complexity in the eyes of the galaxy, as has your companion. Your previous flirtations with the attention of the public subsided with silence, but this one will not.”

“You would recommend we speak to the press, then,” Kirk said. He’d known going in that this was probably how it would end up. Didn’t make it any more fun.

“I do. I would also recommend that you remove as much complexity from the narrative as possible. If presented in a straightforward way, some of the impact can be diminished. Some, not all. I am afraid there have already been too many pieces of information strewn about to entice the press. They will not wish to abandon them for a simpler, less interesting narrative.”

“It seems like the best course of action would be to offer concrete answers to most of the points the press are speculating on.” Kirk frowned. Interviews were not his idea of a good time.

Commodore Paris paused, waiting until she had his full attention before speaking. Her eyes bored into his. “It is your relationship which makes your position seem full of deceit and manipulation. If she is truly a victim, how could you interfere with her recovery? If she was not a victim, you have been taken in. You should never have become involved. It is your greatest vulnerability in this situation, as your opponents are well aware.” Commodore Paris said this as neutrally as the rest; her voice did not hold either sympathy or condemnation.

Kirk had to bite back his response anyway. He was getting really sick of being told how terrible an idea it was to have a personal relationship with Anne. If it was a bad idea, so be it; it was already done. “Seeing her only in terms of victimhood or not is demeaning to her. And I will not apologize for having a relationship with someone I admire and respect.”

Paris took it in stride, nodding her head gravely. “I also understand your position, inconvenient though it is. Nevertheless, the information put forward by the friends of the alleged smuggler and slaver has been overwhelmingly aimed toward the perceived transgression of your relationship, as that is the easiest way to paint you both in a less flattering light.”

“If you have any advice on how to counteract that, I would be glad to hear it,” Kirk said. Speculation had gotten worse, yes, but that bad? He’d have to start paying more attention to the news, distasteful as it was.

“I am doing what I can. Starfleet’s public position on your actions, personal and professional, as well as your companion’s, has been one of our utmost confidence and trust in your judgment and abilities. You may wish to publicly express your thanks for that.” The woman was nearly as unreadable as a Vulcan. Her expression and tone still maintained that pleasant neutrality.

There was a catch there. Public. “You’re saying that Starfleet isn’t happy with what I’ve done.”

Commodore Paris blinked slowly; it was as good as a nod. “You have made yourself vulnerable. How can you be trusted to captain a ship if you are either a predator or a dupe? Nothing has been decided. But there is talk.” For the first time, a sour expression flitted across her face before it regained its pleasant neutrality. “Especially after the motorcycle incident. Nevertheless, the public position holds until something is proven. Your words could do much to soothe the situation.”

It was good advice. Even if it felt as if he had to take a moment to swallow back his defensiveness so he could speak. Thanking Starfleet Command for sticking by him was basically implying that the Federation as a whole had no issues with his behavior, even though they were technically different bodies. Thanking them also re-emphasized the points that they made. And speaking publicly could take the wind out of anyone’s sails if they were trying to sink him. “I’ll do what I can.” Kirk glanced at the time displayed on one of her holographic screens. “I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to meet with me on what is essentially a personal matter, Commodore. I won’t hold you up any longer.” Not after that little bit of news. Hell no.

“I would have been, and still would be, glad to have you as one of my Vice-Admirals, you know,” she said. “It is possible that your discovery and your actions will make an end of the disappearances here. And Yorktown always welcomes the return of her heroes. We remain grateful.”

It was unaccustomed, coming from her. Commodore Paris was not given to such direct remarks. It surprised him out of his defensiveness. “Thank you, Commodore.” He stepped back, giving her a nod before turning to leave the massive open space of her office.

After that, to the Justice building, making more depositions. At least they were boring enough to snuff out the anger he’d felt. Trials were being held in every court, and his time was very carefully spread between them. By this point, he was on autopilot the entire time. Most of his depositions were exactly the same repetitions of the overarching strategy of taking the base, as he hadn’t interacted with most of the accused beyond briefly glancing at them in the holding cells. Still, he had to be there to answer any questions the judges might have. A few of them had gotten very specific with it. Kirk was careful to answer them consistently, as any previous evidence could be entered or questioned in Loche’s trial.

To his surprise, the last trial he was to attend that day brought him in just after Captain Vergne. Though they were performing the same role, he’d only seen her in passing in the halls. The sheer amount of trials going on kept them too busy to talk. When she saw him, she gave him a rakish little smile and pointedly sat herself in one of the auditorium seats on the aisle. He’d given her a minute nod, keeping his answering grin under wraps.

Same old shit. Once his part was over, he paused long enough by Ella’s seat for her to follow him, then left the auditorium. When the door had closed behind them, she laughed. “You’ve been trying to get out of buying me those drinks, haven’t you? Cheapskate.”

“Got plans for tonight?” he asked, pulling out his communicator. When she shook her head, he set the comm code for home. “I’ll see what Anne’s up to. If she’s home.”

“She doesn’t have a communicator?” Ella asked, surprised.

“I don’t think she was ever issued one,” Kirk said, thinking back as he entered the apartment’s comm code. “If she’s got a civilian model, I don’t know about it.”

“One what?” Anne’s voice asked, sounding thin. She’d answered so quickly that she could have been waiting for his call.

“A communicator, don’t you have one?” he asked.

“No. Why would I want one?” she asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“You’re so weird,” he said, unable to stop himself from grinning. Ella just shook her head. “Anyway we promised to take Ella out for drinks and she’s with me now. Got any plans you can’t move?”

Instead of happily agreeing, as he’d come to expect from her, she said, “Oh…” Even over the communicator, her voice sounded troubled.

“What’s up?” he asked. That wasn’t like her.

“Can she come by the apartment instead? I don’t want to go out. Someone was following me earlier today.”

Ella looked up at him, frowning her concern, and he asked, “Is this something to worry about?”

“Just another reporter. I lost him before I came home-- transported to another district, went by Ben’s place for a chat, switched aircars and all that. It just spooked me, that’s all. I’ll make us dinner and we can eat outside. The orange tree is blooming.”

After a glance at Ella, who nodded, Kirk said, “Sounds great. Anything you need me to pick up on the way home?”

“No. Just… keep an eye on your surroundings, cher.” The endearment was tossed off carelessly. He wondered if she noticed that she did it anymore.

“I will. I’ll be there soon.” He flipped the communicator shut and clipped it back at his waist.

“Getting bad, huh? I’m not surprised. Someone’s stirring the pot.” Ella didn’t look at him.

Kirk sighed. “We know who. We can’t really stop them. I talked to Commodore Paris about it today and we’re going to have to take some steps.”

“If you’re having to do things like switch aircars, I think some steps were warranted a while ago,” Ella said, her voice sarcastic.

“Nothing like that has happened until now.” Kirk paused a moment. “Unless she didn’t tell me about it. She does go off alone a fair bit.”

At that, Ella stopped walking, and he turned to see her scowling at him, those perfectly arched brows drawn together in irritation. “Jim, you need to start paying attention to what’s going on here. What the hell are you doing that you don’t know these things?” Ella demanded.

His defensiveness immediately leaped back to the surface. “Look, if she chooses not to tell me, it’s none of my business.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but this isn’t a normal situation. With no communicator, she can’t even call you for help if she needs it,” Ella said, with the air of someone who was very aware they were explaining something very reasonably.

“All right, you’ve got a point. I’ll talk to her about it-- in private.” Kirk wasn’t entirely certain that he should be prying into what Anne chose not to talk about, but at the very least he’d make sure she had a communicator. That was reasonable enough.

“Where are we headed?” Ella asked, perhaps sensing that a change of topic was due.

Kirk raised an eyebrow at her. “You really think I’m gonna tell you after all that talk about security?”

Ella just gave him a long, flat look that he knew was fake, because he could see the tiniest curve at the corners of her mouth. “I outranked you once, Captain, and I could do it again if I wanted. So you’d better keep that lip to yourself.”

At that, Kirk couldn’t help a laugh. Something about Ella always made things easier, in spite of her prickliness. He turned to walk away, and she followed him. “In your dreams, Captain,” he chuckled, suddenly very glad to have her along.

Oof, lost a week again. I don't even have a good excuse. Sorry!

[phoenix-downer]

Flame Part 1

For SoKai Week Day 6 - All and everything angst.

Contains potentially upsetting/distressing material. More info in the tags. 

Part 1 of 2. Read Part 2 here.

Normally Kairi wouldn’t have been surprised to get a response from Sora, but things were different now.

I’m willing to hear your proposal – the words that had filled her heart with both hope and dread.

One foot in front of the other. That’s all I have to do. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and move forward.

I will meet you at the World That Never Was, and I will be alone, as you requested.

She paused and clutched the letter more tightly. It had Sora’s messy handwriting on it, but it was too formal and stiff. It wasn’t at all how he talked.

“Sora.”

It was his face, but Xehanort’s golden eyes stared back at her when he spoke. “How many times do I have to tell you, that name has no meaning for me anymore.”

I likewise expect you to be alone. If you bring anyone else—

Well, technically she’d kept her word. No one else was here, but all she had to do was touch her necklace, and a signal would be sent to Riku and the others and they’d come running.

Glancing around at the empty and colorless castle around her, she couldn’t help but remember the last time they’d been here. This place had nothing but the ghosts of old memories now, here to haunt her and remind her of a time before everything had fallen apart.

“So,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and strolling towards the nearby balcony. “What is it you drug me all the way out here for? I’m curious to hear your proposal.”

Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she closed the distance between them and reached towards him. “Sora—”

“Don’t touch me!” He recoiled from her and it hurt because Sora, the real Sora, would never reject her like that.

She let her hand linger in the air for a moment before balling it into a fist at her side. He frowned, and something flickered through his eyes that Kairi thought might be emotion. But soon his expression smoothed over, and his face was the same impassive mask as before.

He leaned against the balcony and looked out at the corridors and hallways and chambers below them, all devoid of life and teetering on the edge of existence.

“This world really is something, isn’t it?” he said. “You denizens of the light think it has no right to exist, nor does it belong to us from the dark.” He turned to her and stretched his arms out wide. “And yet here it is, stubbornly refusing to disappear, even though it belongs to neither the darkness nor the light.”

Kairi sighed and rolled her eyes. Xehanort never had learned when to shut up, and she wasn’t in the mood for another one of his stupid ramblings.

Hearing it come from Sora just added insult to injury. She missed his delightful bluntness, his playful teasing, the warmth in his voice when he said her name, the tenderness in his eyes when she caught him looking at her. All of that was gone now, replaced by Xehanort’s cold manner and convoluted way of speaking.

“I don’t give a rip about this world,” she said, turning away from him. “I was held prisoner here for months, remember?”

Whether he remembered or cared, she didn’t know, because he was silent.

“I only asked to meet you here because it’s in your territory,” she clarified.

“And why did you ask to meet me, Kairi?”

She gritted her teeth. “Don’t call me that.” It hurt too much. It was still too soon.

“Fine, princess. What do you want from me?” He maneuvered around her so she was forced to look at him again, forced to face the reality of what Xehanort had done to him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” She glared at him. “You’re the one who needs me for your big plan, after all.”

To her surprise, his expression softened. “More than you know.”

She ignored the way her heart pounded and hurriedly continued. “F-for the χ-blade. The others told me about your plan. You need either the Princesses of Heart or the Guardians of Light for it, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “The worlds are torn between light and darkness, and the χ-blade can fix that.”

“You mean I can fix that.”

He nodded. “Starting with this world.” He paused and looked her in the eye, his steady gaze tearing down all the careful defenses she’d built around her heart. “It’s been broken, cut off from everything and abandoned. It… longs... to be what it once was. It yearns to be whole again.”

His voice, which had been so measured and even before, wavered and cracked, and Kairi’s eyes went wide.

He wasn’t talking about this world. He wasn’t talking about this world at all.

She recovered her composure as quickly as she could, hoping Xehanort hadn’t noticed her slip.

“Right,” she said, turning around and leaning against the balcony. “So I was thinking, if I offered to help you, would you—”

“Don’t worry about the details. If you promise to help me, that’s good enough,” he said, quick to stop her from making an actual deal.

“So you want my help with… restoring the worlds, and in return you’ll give me… what, exactly?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

“And you’re sure I’m the only one who can do this?”

Sora nodded. She noted with a great deal of satisfaction that not even Xehanort could tame the wonderful mess that was his hair.

“Yes. Your heart is what I need,” he said softly.

Your heart. Your heart. She had to use her heart to save him. But how? Her Keyblade was out of the question. Xehanort would suspect something was up as soon as she summoned it. Same went for any sort of light-based magic.

No, it had to be subtle, subtle but powerful, something Xehanort would never suspect. Sora couldn’t suspect it, either.

Heart. Love. An act of love.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked.

She tapped her cheek. “Hmmm… You said I could have anything I wanted if I help you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Anything at all?”

He nodded.

She straightened and strolled away from him. “That’s impossible. You can’t give me what I want.” When she glanced back at him, his lips were parted and his eyes were filled with a mixture of confusion and distress.

Sora, please. Trust me.

“What is it you want?” he asked. He must have thought she would bargain for his freedom. But no, she knew better than to trust Xehanort. The creep would go back on his word if she tried.

“Your heart, Sora, but that’s gone. It’s been gone for a long time. You’re just an empty puppet full of darkness now.”

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes. “A puppet? Is that all you think I am now?”

“What else could you be? Xehanort’s taken you over, heart, body, and soul.” She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the final blow. “You’re hopeless. I can’t save you, even if I wanted to.”

I don’t really mean it. Please don’t think I mean it.

He did. His eyes flew open, and the look of utter despair and hurt he gave her was something she never wanted to see again.But she couldn’t afford to reveal her true intentions. If he believed she wasn’t trying to save him, then Xehanort wouldn’t suspect her, either.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t make a deal with Xehanort,” she quickly added. “There is something I still need from him.”

She took a step back, and he took one closer.

“And what would that be, now that you’ve made it clear you’ve given up on me?” he said, his golden eyes flashing. “And here I thought I meant something to you. You’re heartless, princess. Completely and utterly heartless.”

It was with a great deal of effort that she controlled herself, because his words cut her to the quick. They poked and prodded at the wounds caused by his loss. Whether Xehanort or Sora was the one saying them didn’t matter. They hurt because she couldn’t bear to think that Sora felt like he’d been abandoned.

“It’s nothing much,” she said. “Easy request to fulfill, really.” She kept backing up until the wall behind her halted any further progress, luring him closer with each step.

“What is it?” he asked, so close she could almost touch him.

C’mon, just a little closer! she silently pleaded, willing him to take that last step. Her whole plan depended on it.

Please, Sora, please!

She waited with bated breath. Would he do it? Would he close the last bit of distance between them?

Yes. He finally did, and he was within reach. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“This,” she said. Grabbing his black coat, she pulled him to her. Understanding dawned on his face, and he gave her a look of pure relief, relief and hope.

“Kairi,” he whispered, a plea, a prayer, a request she was all too happy to fulfill. Their faces were inches apart now, their lips about to touch—

He was yanked away from her by the hair, and his pained cry sent a chill down her spine.

“No! Please!” She reached out to him, but it was too late. Xehanort handed him over to Xemnas and Ansem.

“Show him what disobedience brings,” he told them and turned to her.

“You clever girl,” he said, and he actually looked impressed. “You were trying to give him true love’s kiss, weren’t you? A kiss from a Princess of Heart would be powerful indeed. Powerful enough to break even my spells.” He crossed his hands behind his back and circled her. “I must say, you did such a good job of deceiving him that you had me fooled, too. You really are quite the actress.”

“Sora, you know I didn’t mean what I said!” She had to make sure he knew that. Her fingers went to her necklace, and Xemnas wrenched Sora’s head up and forced him to look at her.

Tears shimmered in his eyes. Whether they were from the pain of being yanked around by the hair or the frustration of coming so close to being rescued, Kairi wasn’t sure.

“Oh, but that doesn’t make it any less true,” Ansem said. “This empty shell, this vessel of darkness, isn’t worthy of a Princess of Heart.”

He threw Sora to the ground, and Sora had to use his left hand to catch his weight. He winced and cried out, and Kairi couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” She tried to cast a healing spell, but Xemnas grabbed her and pinned her arms behind her back. She could only watch as Ansem pulled Sora up by the hair again. He yelped and tried to pry Ansem’s hand away with his good hand, but it was no use.

“She spoke the truth,” Ansem said. “You’re hopeless, and you’ve brought her nothing but pain.” He dropped Sora back to the ground with an agonizing thud. Sora groaned and tried to lift himself up, only for Ansem to kick him in the side and send him sprawling again.

“Stop it!” Kairi kicked Xemnas in the shins with as much force as she could muster. He staggered backwards and she very nearly broke free, only for him to grab her again at the last possible second.

“She was kidnapped because of you,” Ansem continued. “She was imprisoned because of you. You haven’t kept a single promise you made to her. She really would be better off without you.”

“Shut up!” Kairi said, fighting against Xemnas’s grip once more. “None of that is true! Sora, meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!” She stomped on Xemnas’s foot to buy herself more time.

She had to say it. She had to say what she truly felt. She took one last breath and put her whole heart into her words.

“My heart belongs to you! It always has, and it always will!”

Xemnas clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Sora lifted his head to look at her again, and his eyes were a brilliant, vibrant blue. Ansem yanked him to his feet, but he didn’t even act like he was in pain anymore. He smiled through his tears instead, the most beautiful, heartbreaking smile that brought tears to her eyes, too.

His mouth formed the shape of words, three silent, heartfelt words, and they gave her the strength to keep fighting. She bit Xemnas’s hand, and hard. He grunted and let go of her, and she ran towards Sora. The swirling darkness Xehanort had summoned was engulfing him now, but he held his hand out to her anyway.

She reached out to him, and their fingers touched. For a few precious seconds they were connected, their hands at least joined together in the touch their lips had been denied. A spark pulsed down her arm and warmed her heart, and she willed all the light within her to reach him.

Then their hands were torn apart, and when the light had faded, she was alone.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Her backup had arrived. Riku, King Mickey, Donald, and Goofy were all here now, weapons at the ready until they realized they wouldn’t have to fight. She brought her hand to her lips and kissed it, allowing the tears to flow freely down her face.

Riku let his Keyblade disappear and put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry we didn’t make it in time, Kairi.”

“He was himself again,” she whispered. “His eyes turned blue and he smiled at me. He actually smiled at me, and I – I—”

She buried her face in Riku’s chest and sobbed. If only it had worked. If only she’d been able to save him in time. Now he was back in enemy hands, and she could only imagine what kinds of horrible things they were doing to him.

“I couldn’t save him. He was counting on me and I couldn’t do it.”

Riku knew better than to say anything. He just held her as she cried instead. When she’d gotten it out of her system, he looked her in the eye and spoke.

“Kairi, you’re wrong about one thing. You didn’t let Sora down. You said his eyes turned blue. That means he’s getting himself back, and you’re the one who helped him do that.”

King Mickey nodded. “Riku’s right. He’s still fightin’, and that means there’s hope.”

“C’mon, Kairi, you can’t give up now,” Donald said.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You’re right. We have to keep trying. We have to save him.” She wouldn’t rest until he was safe.

“Atta girl,” Goofy said. He gave her a lopsided grin, and she couldn’t help but feel a little better.

She’d thought that Sora needed some grand act of love to free him, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe the tender affection burning in their hearts, soft and gentle and warm, would be enough to drive the darkness away.

It might take weeks, it might take months, it might even take years, but that spark, that connection between the two of them, was the light that would break the chains imprisoning him once and for all. She was sure of that now.

And until that day, until the day of his liberation, she would do whatever she could to stoke the flame.

[killjoy-loveit]

Hack This Part 8

A/N: You may or may not know the drill by now, but here it is anyways: this is in 1st POV (like my other stuff), I hope it will be 10 parts (if it isn’t I will make it very clear), and I would also like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction.

Summary: Reina finds a way to get the file.

Word Count: 1,646

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10

Bonus Scene

Profanity/Gore? Warning!

    It took some time before I actually worked up the nerve to call up Noah. Not as much time as it would have been to be polite though, it was actually the next day. I had to call while Z was passed out on the couch, and I made sure to whisper the entire time. There was no way I could risk him waking up and finding out what I was asking his friend to do on his behalf, I don’t think he would have been okay with that. Noah did sound surprised to hear from me so soon, and had to excuse herself from someone’s company, I assume her boyfriend.

    “You want me to what?” Her voice came over the line, incredulous.

    “I need you to break into the boss’ office and find Z’s file.”

    “You can’t be serious…”

    “Dead serious.” At her sharp intake of breath I could tell she was getting ready to try and let me down easy, but I couldn’t let that happen. “You said he saved Jongup’s life. That file is the equivalent of his life, Noah. I can tell that you and Jongup fit this lifestyle, but Z doesn’t, and I’m not sure how much longer he can do this. I need that file. Come on, a life for a life, that’s the only way it’ll ever be equal.”

    “Damn, you sure know where to hit… Fine, I’ll do it.” A brief pause and a short breath followed, I thought she was going to hang up. “It’s a good thing he has you. I’ll get you the file within the week. If you don’t hear from me, assume I got caught.” The line went dead.

    I let out a sigh of relief. Even if the file wasn’t in my hands right in this moment, the chances of having the file were up by quite a nice percentage. My nerves were still slightly on edge from the phone call, so when Z called out my name groggily I almost jumped out of my skin. I set the phone down on the kitchen counter before making my way out to where he lay on the couch. He looked so pitiful laying there, his face in an odd array of colors due to the beating it had received, and his hand clutching at his ribs lightly.

    “Hey,” I murmur softly, moving to sit on the edge of the couch by him carefully. “What is it?”

    Even though the swelling had gone down a bit from yesterday, he could still only open one eye, but he focused on me intently with that one eye. “I woke up and you weren’t here. I thought maybe… Something might have happened.” Z muttered, breaking eye contact as a faint blush dusted over his cheeks.

    “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I just- I had to check on something… But how about you try to eat something now?”

    Yesterday Z refused my help when it came to cleaning up, stating he could do it himself, so I thought the matter was taken care of. This, I found out, was untrue when his shirt rode up as he was reaching for a plate in a higher cabinet, revealing dried blood smeared on his skin. With a squeak, I moved forward, my hand grasping his shirt and tugging it upwards, revealing uncleaned wounds that under normal circumstances would have me running to throw up. Although as it was, seeing his skin torn up like that had me wanting to puke, but I held the urge back.

    “I thought you took care of this!” I cry out in an accusatory tone.

    Z winces and tries to take my hand off his shirt. “It hurt too much to do it.”

    “Well then why didn’t you let me help? They could get infected! Come on, food can wait, this can’t.” I start dragging him to the bathroom.

    He resists for a moment, dragging his feet sullenly before giving in and letting me pull him to the bathroom. I sit him down on the edge of the bathtub, moving to take his shirt off, but he stops me, gripping my hands in his.

    I raise my eyebrows and shoot a glare at him. “Your shirt needs to come off so that I can clean your wounds. Unless you want them to get infected and die, that is.”

    Z lets go of my hands, allowing me to remove his shirt as gently as I can. Once again I have shove the urge to puke to the back of my mind as my eyes scan the wounds scattered over his torso. Tears well up in my eyes. He’s got to be in so much pain, all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and give me time to find the real leak. I move quickly, pulling out the cotton balls and alcohol. There might be areas that need to be stitched but I have no clue how to do that, nor do I know if there are the proper materials in the apartment. I’ll just have to figure it out once I get the wounds disinfected.

    At the first swipe of cotton soaked in alcohol against one of the open cuts, Z winced and let out a hiss. “Aww, come on don’t be such a baby. It’ll hurt worse if it doesn’t get cleaned out.” I mutter and continue to clean each of the cuts littered across his torso.

    After each one has been thoroughly disinfected, I inspect each one to try and determine if any needs stitches. Luckily for me, and him too, I guess, none of the cuts appear to need stitches. My next move is antibacterial cream and bandages to cover them. We don’t have any particularly big bandages, so I have to make do with the smaller ones that are on hand, and make a mental note to get some different ones at the store tomorrow. I barely notice his silence as I finish up, smoothing the last bandage in place with a little smile.

    “Reina?”

    “Hmm?” I hum in response, glancing up at him.

    He’s staring at me with a soft look in his eyes, his hand reaches out and cups my cheek. “Thank you.”

    My eyes go wide at his action and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. Close enough to feel his body heat and the short puffs of his breath on the top of my head. I feel my cheeks heat up as I murmur a quick no problem, and go to move away from him, but his hand on my shoulder stops me. That soft look in his eyes is doing funny things to me, making my stomach feel like it’s being tied up in knots. I shouldn’t be feeling this way just from a look. That can’t be normal. Can it?

    Slowly, Z leans in closer to me until our faces are mere inches apart, his eyes boring into mine, sending shivers racing down my spine at his proximity. Then his lips brushed against mine lightly, a fleeting feeling of warmth and softness, leaving tingles in its wake. He brought his lips back to mine in a more assertive kiss, seeming to forget about his busted lip until the pressure made the pain surge back to the surface, causing him to pull away with a wince. That pulled me back to reality, and I shot to my feet mumbling some odd excuse, and disappeared to my room.

    The sound of my door creaking open woke me up, making me blink blearily at the clock on my nightstand. Three twenty-seven it read in glowing green block numbers. I turned my head back to my door to see Z standing there, peeking his head in.

    “Are you awake?” He whispered.

    “Mmm, no.” I mumble, stuffing my face back into my pillow.

    The door shut and I thought he left, but then the bed dipped alerting me that he had not left as I had thought. I turn my head and open one eye, narrowing it on his intruding figure.

    “What is it?”

    Z turns his head away from me, appearing sheepish as he responds. “I can’t sleep.”

    “Why?”

    “I keep getting worried that something might happen to you.”

    I close my eye, pulling the covers up to my chin. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me, go back to bed.”

    “Can I stay here with you?” Z asks softly, sounding afraid that I might reject him. Honestly, it did cross my mind as I was still confused by our shared kiss earlier, but I couldn’t deny him this. Not when he was worried about me, and not when he stayed with me after my nightmare that one time.

    Instead of replying I just scooted backwards on my bed and lifted the comforter. Z took the hint and slid in beside me, taking the raised comforter and lowering it over the both of us. Without warning his arm wraps around my waist to pull me closer, making me let out a yelp.

    “What are you doing? You’re hurt!” I cry out, looking at him with wide eyes.

    “Not that bad anymore, you took care of it.” He murmurs with his eyes shut.

    I try to pull back, so that I’m not as close to him where I could potentially make his injuries worse. His arm just tightens in response, keeping me in place. “Go to sleep, Reina.”

    I make a face at him, knowing he can’t see me with his eyes closed, and feel a stupid sense of satisfaction from the little taunt. Having him right next to me was odd, I thought I should feel tense, but I felt the exact opposite. Being this close, almost pressed against him, made me feel comfortable, safe, like he was my security blanket. Seep has never come easier.

[lightsandlostbells]

Druck episode 8 reaction

just making my way through the tumultuous lives of German youth! some of this is outdated since I fell way behind

Episode 8

Clip 1 - Hanna and Mia = so happy together

Hanna resting her head against Mia’s shoulder = awwwwww. Also cute is Mia hyping up her musical taste and getting Hanna to join in.

Here comes Alexander to ruin the moment!

For some reason it’s hilarious that he offers to sing with them. What if Mia was like yeah, let’s harmonize, show me what you got?

AHAHAHA OK, I know people want there to be a hint of ~flirtation and ~attraction on Mia’s part but you know, I fucking live for her just tearing into him and telling him off and that she’ll report him for harassment. Resounding applause!

On the other hand I cannot buy her falling for him in the slightest. By making her so firmly against him they’re making it an uphill battle convincing me that they’ll get together, especially since Mia seems perhaps the most outspokenly feminist remake Noora.

Hanna smiling and being like, “You’re so cool, Mia,” and Mia all like, “Thanks, I read this thing in an article about pickup artists using the wrong names for women to make them feel submissive!” And then the two of them happily go back to singing? This version of the scene is incredible.

Like Mia read some PUA bullshit about men trying to make women feel small, and she turned it back on a shitty man who treats women like crap! How can you not appreciate that?

Also I take back what I said previously about Mia and Hanna not being flirty compared to this pairing in other Skams. The end of this scene was total girlfriend goals.

Clip 2 - Nein, Kiki

Amira and Sam - the cutest. I would pay to see them operating that canine squad.

Well, I kinda hate Kiki again. That was a hell of a segue from her Amy Santiago-ing the party security setup to talking shit about Hanna.

I do love Hanna telling Kiki to drop it. I feel like we’ve begun to see more of a backbone on her. And Mia coming to Hanna’s defense, of course.

The reveal of the Hanna and Leonie friendship breakup is underwhelming compared to some other versions. It’s more focused on Kiki being an asshole than Hanna’s internal anguish. However, they did throw in one detail, about Hanna snagging Jonas at Sarah’s birthday party which I liked, because I’ve always wanted even more details about how they got together. I can’t remember, but did we ever hear about Leonie crying on Hanna’s shoulder while Hanna and Jonas were sneaking around behind Leonie’s back? Or is the implication that they hooked up at the birthday party and Leonie found out pretty soon, and that was that?

“Honestly, Hanna, you shouldn’t be surprised that everyone’s calling you a slut.” What the hell, Kiki. She delivers it so smugly.

Mia and Amira defending Hanna, I sure love these girls. And while Sam’s comment about “slut” being a compliment is not really the best thing to say considering the context, she was trying to be nice.

Mia also points out that it takes two to tango, it’s not just Hanna’s fault, and then Kiki says something spot-on despite her general unpleasantness in this scene - she mentions Jonas (not just Toilet Sam) for being a “slut” too, which I don’t think anyone in any of the Skams has yet done. I think it’s usually focused on the P-Chris character also being slutty? Not that I agree with the “slut” terminology specifically, more than I don’t think anyone ever singled out Jonas as a cheater, and I mean, I love him but it’s true. It’s not fair at all that the Evas have to bear the burden of the homewrecker label alone, especially when Jonas was the one already in a relationship.

Sam’s comment about “I don’t care about Jule, and Leonie is a bitch. And Jonas and Hanna are way cuter together” almost feels like commentary about the audience. Because that’s how it would be - we know almost nothing about Jule except she attacked Hanna, so who cares about her, and we’ve seen Leonie only through Hanna’s POV as an aggressive mean girl. And well, Jonas and Hanna are twelve kinds of cute. But of course that’s only one side of the story. Jule and Leonie are both wronged parties here and feeling hurt and betrayed for valid reasons even if they don’t express it in the best way. Kiki is right, Leonie is the victim here, whatever her other faults.

And again, Sam says this to help Hanna, it’s just not that helpful.

“In your Muslim gangster world, wouldn’t she have been attacked by acid by now or something?” WOW WOW. I sorta liked Kiki, but I’m definitely wanting to retract that statement.

Really, she unleashed that on Amira for absolutely no reason! Amira was just sitting there, not saying anything!

I think Kiki is lashing out like a wounded animal though. She’s trashing her friends with a viciousness that I don’t think Vilde had.

I love love love Amira though. Really, I would love to see S4 about her (with heavy rewrites, heh). You can tell that she’s really hurt by what Kiki has just said and needed a moment to compose herself.

Amira’s prayer alarm going off right then was a good clincher to that moment, a reminder of Amira’s Muslim-ness just to rub it in for Kiki, and probably to twist the knife a little for Amira, tbh. People will always judge her on her religion.

Also, great moment from Sam asking Kiki why she always needs to fight. It’s a big difference from Chris just sitting out this scene in awkward silence and trying to avoid conflict. But you can tell that Sam was trying to help out Hanna and perhaps neutralize the tension in this scene, she just doesn’t always know the right thing to say. I think it’s consistent characterization for her to ask why Kiki needs to be confrontational.

Lol, Kiki left her stuff behind when she marched out.

Clip 3 - Hanna and Jonas being sad together

Ahhh, it’s Jonas playing the guitar! Is that an existing song or just a tune he made up?

There’s a slight shift in context to having them sit in a bedroom (an intimate location) but far apart at first when they have this discussion, rather than in a public place like a skate park, but with seemingly less distance between them. The skate park is more like a neutral ground for them to meet. This is Hanna going into Jonas’ private space and being unwelcome. She knew it and started off putting space between them. It felt kinda uncomfortable. 

Also, major props to the Druck team for making Jonas play the guitar, which is clearly something the actor does in real life, and not a skater just because original Jonas/Marlon Langeland was a skater. I like when they can adapt the characters to the actors’ strengths.

The Jonas actor is doing a great job of conveying his hurt, and not just because he has a guitar to air out his sads and to use whenever words aren’t enough. Hanna too - she looks still and like a shell of herself as he questions her entire character.

Nice detail about Hanna suddenly being into the bands Jonas likes, as a way to add support to the “she doesn’t have her own opinions” line of development.

This scene really got across the theeeeme/message and showed how hurt they both were - of course it’s not nice for Jonas to say that, but you can tell he’s genuinely confused and torn about what she’s doing and he’s not just saying it to lash out at her, and of course Hanna is devastated because it always hurts to be told you don;t have your own personality, plus Jonas just laid out the reasoning in front of her.

Clip 4 - Menstrual message

Lol, not that this is funny in context, but I think Hanna’s the only Eva who throws the note in the trash instead of dropping it on the floor? Good for her, that way no hapless janitor or other student has to come across someone’s period blood in the hallway. Though I certainly get the instinct to drop it, I mean ... ewww.

(By the way, am I the only one who has questioned whether this letter, in any/all iterations, was really written in menstrual blood? Not that I would interact with the letter long enough to find out, if it were me, but is it possible it’s just paint or something and was called “period blood” just to get some extra intimidation for Hanna?)

They kept in this conversation with Kiki which is good, though she doesn’t clarify that she’s left the party because she thinks the girls hate her. I think if you didn’t know the plot, you could assume even worse of Kiki and think that maybe she quit to rid herself of the girls, the school slut and the scary Muslim. Her departing lines to Hanna do feel rather brusque.

Clip 5 - Matteo trying to do damage control

The music sounded a little upbeat for what’s supposed to be a low moment for Hanna, though the lyrics are melancholy. But it cracked me up that Matteo’s presence was announced by what sounded like a skateboard and yet Matteo did not appear to have a skateboard.

I love that they have this conversation in person, though. Matteo sought her out to sit down and tell her that it’s unfair everyone hates her so much. Even though, you know … he caused it. But I think it’s a mark of how much he regrets his actions already.

I noticed he did the trademark Isak reptilian lip-licking at one point. Common enough gesture but I am always gonna associate it with that duplicitous Norwegian.

Matteo’s message didn’t seem to sink in during the conversation as much, with Hanna getting frustrated more than anything, but it’s great that he tells her it’d be a pity if she left right before he leaves.

Clip 6 - Hanna, Leonie, and Jule

We didn’t get the scene with the older girls, or with Mia/Amira telling Hanna that it was Leonie who hooked up with Sam. I guess because Leonie didn’t actually hook up with Sam in this version. Actually, it’s great that Hanna confronts Leonie without using the knowledge that Leonie made out with Sam as leverage; she just does it on her own in order to make her school situation more bearable.

Also, there’s no incentive for how the situation will impact the other girls, neither Hanna nor the other girls think the rest of the school is retaliating against them all for their association with Hanna. It’s just Hanna acting independently. Kudos.

As with the Jonas scene, we have Leonie sitting down against the wall closed off to what Hanna’s going to say, and Hanna at first puts distance between them but later tries to lessen it. This time a little more successfully.

Hanna talks about how at her old school she was the “fat girl that everyone bullied” - that adds a lot of pain to her backstory. In OG it was that when Eva switched schools, no one wanted to talk to her because of her accent and Ingrid was nice to her, I don’t recall any talk of bullying prior to that. This detail makes Hanna’s situation even worse. Especially if you think about she was planning to switch schools again this episode, and that this would be the second time she has switched schools due to bullying. At least I think that’s implied although she could have switched schools the first time due to a mundane reason, like moving. But it would also add some extra weight to Matteo’s talk about running away when things get difficult, and support why she would choose to confront Leonie on her own like this.

This is a pretty stark conversation with the lack of accompanying emotional music and the echo from the mostly empty room. Everything comes from Hanna baring her soul, basically.

Lol, Leonie just gets up and leaves at the end, which is fine, I guess. She’s not chased out by Jule about to beat her ass. Hanna discovers on her own that it was Jule who sent the threat letter, so good for her for connecting the dots.

Unfortunately they rushed this conversation with Jule, although at least they got the right points, with Hanna saying that she didn’t know Samuel had a girlfriend but apologizing for it anyway, and pointing out that it isn’t fair for Jule to be mad at her but not him. It was definitely disappointing that Jule wasn’t humanized that much, though, and that she walks away still having a chip on her shoulder, plus the reveal that it was Matteo felt forced.

I do love this closing song (”Devil’s Whisper” by Raury). A great RUN BOY RUN song to lead into Hanna realizing she needs to throttle Matteo.

General Comments

It’s too bad that they left out some very strong parts of the source material. For example, the older girls giving their wisdom to Hanna aren’t there at all, though I can see how with the changed context why it might have been hard (why would the older girls give a shit about ostracizing the kids working security at their party). Also Jule just doesn’t get the amount of time necessary to make us feel better about her. I think Druck has done a decent job of some of the Girl Power moments and those probably would have been executed well if giving the right amount of time.

Tbh this episode is full of material where that lays out for me why it’s good to have younger actors in these roles. They make so many mistakes and there are such little moments of hurt and frustration, and it just seems more real when you can fully absorb that these are kids. 

I don’t speak German, so if I misunderstood something, feel free to correct me.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[ko-fanatic]

Busy Hands (Part 3)

Rating: Teen and up

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Relationships: Yoshio & Kyoya

Trigger Warnings: OCD, Panic Attacks, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental breakdown

Summary: His hands are those of a crazy person, picked and peeled and sore. Pour salt and bleach in the wounds, let the sting clear his head, as if that was really possible. Maybe, if the sting was from electric shocks and his arms were secured in a straitjacket.

Other fanfics in this series: Part 1 / Part 2

Kyoya had once found the decorations in the headmaster’s office calming. He was only little then, however; Suoh-san asking so calmly about his… quirks. That was what they were back then – odd, a red flag, but not inherently bad. Just distracting to the other kids. The only thing he seemed particularly concerned about was how he acted towards the teacher’s aide. At the time, he’d called her mean, but now he understood her point of view. He understood that not everyone had the thoughts he did.

It only got really bad in the third year of elementary school. He flicked light switches, compulsively scrubbed his desk with antiseptic wipes, had his hands wrapped in gauze and bandages due to a few chemical burns he’d acquired while trying to scrub down the second-floor bathroom in his house for what seemed to be the hundredth time. All he could see behind his eyes was blood, his mother laying pale on the floor as his father pleaded with her to just stay with him.

However, that was a long time ago. Now, he just sat in an office that was uncomfortably similar to some psychiatrist’s – and he’s seen them. It was a half-hearted venture on his father’s part to drag him there, kicking and screaming. Not literally, he’d just dissociated and stared out the window, but the feeling was all the same; he already hated the pills, he’d hate talking. And he did. The old man wouldn’t let him fidget or do any of the compulsions he relied on. That his mind forced him to do. He hated that old man so much that he forced himself to forget his name.

“Kyoya,” Yuzuru began, putting down the phone after a brief chat with his father explaining the bare bones of the event. Kyoya just interlaced his fingers, pulling them apart roughly and feeling the burn along the dry, sensitive patches of skin his “overly thorough” washing created, “Kyoya, can you look at me a second? I just want to know you’re… here.”

“Of course I am, where else would I be?” He answered, too fast and too brusque, nowhere near the smooth delivery he’d had in his head. He looked up for a moment, then went back to his continual fiddling and picking at his hands. There was torn skin, torn cuticles, and it all looked rather ugly; a sharp contrast to both Tamaki’s soft, manicured nails as well as Mori’s large, callused hands. His weren’t the hands of a prince or a hardened fighter, they were the ones of a crazy person. Nail length monitored so he wouldn’t scratch himself bloody, everything ragged from continual biting and picking at dry skin, just… ugly.

“Look, Kyoya, I’m really not angry with you, and neither is Tamaki. You aren’t in trouble,” Yuzuru clarified.  Kyoya knew to believe it, even if it seemed unlikely; he did possibly break Tamaki’s nose. Besides, even if Yuzuru and Tamaki weren’t, he was pissed off with himself. He prided himself on being at least semi-functional – wasn’t that depressing? – and this was a contradiction. A functional person does not punch their best friend in the face for stopping them from flicking light switches, “Your father will be here soon, and we’ll discuss it together. While you won’t have to face disciplinary action, something clearly needs to be done.

He was right about that, but he didn’t answer. He merely continued to pick at his hands, tearing off loose flesh with his teeth, sore and stinging but… Better? Yes, that seemed about right. His hands would always look ugly, but it was some sort of false tidying. It wasn’t ragged if the skin was peeled off, after all. Or maybe it was the sparks of pain and the occasional warm, salty taste that kept him somewhat grounded? Honestly, he’d given up trying to give his madness a method when it wasn’t already clear. It wasn’t pure crazy like that, to him; that was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. He was doing the same thing over and over to prevent differing results.

Yuzuru didn’t really say much beyond asking him if he had the keyring his father got him, the fidget toy clipped on his bag proclaiming him “NOT NORMAL” in the mesh of its bright pink plastic. He’d rather peel his fingers down to the sinew. He didn’t answer, and Yuzuru probably didn’t expect him to; it was a benefit of being crazy, he supposed. He’d probably trade it in for the mental stability and calm he’d have without his condition, but life isn’t fair.

“Apologies for being late,” His father’s voice intoned, cutting through the awkward silence. It brought his attention away from his now bloody cuticles, if only for a moment or two, and it wasn’t long before there was a presence at his side and a tired sigh, a few bandaids materialising in front of his eyes from his father’s pocket, painfully rehearsed. Colourful ones, patterned with watermelons and hearts; what was once “cool” and fun to pick out now felt demeaning and childish, but he just about managed to tear himself away from his compulsive picking to apply them.

“Not at all, Ootori-san,” Yuzuru waved away, bringing up some records on his computer, which reflected in the large window pane behind him. Not enough to see what was written, unfortunately, just enough to have an idea of the important discussion that was about to take place. The headmaster was concerned, he wasn’t going to spend all of two minutes on this, “As I mentioned on the phone, I think we need to talk about Kyoya’s recent rough patch. He’s been worse than he’s been for years, and earlier today…”

He just zoned out, unwilling to listen and see the inevitable disappointment on his father’s face. It wasn’t like he did this to spite him but, while he did know that it wasn’t like he thought… His father always seemed so… Disappointed. He knew he wasn’t much to be proud of like this, an anxious, obsessive-compulsive wreck who just couldn’t seem to act normal. Who always stayed too long cleaning up the clubroom, scrubbing it down with bleach. The other boys were outdoorsy, Hani-senpai had sticky fingers from the sugary icing adorning his favourite cakes, God only knew what else. He hated how unknown it all was, and he didn’t care that the bleach hurt his hands.

“I’m sorry to be the one to suggest this… But perhaps you should really start to consider inpatient care –”

That snapped him out of his near trance, a small gasp escaping but nothing more. He wanted to just blank it, everything was fine, it was standard procedure to talk to parents when their child hit someone. He wasn’t that bad, he wasn’t. He really wasn’t. God, he needed to calm down. He couldn’t just freak out, then he might as well be signing his own admission papers. Sane people didn’t overthink to the point where they had panic attacks over possible treatment options, because that was just pathetic. It wasn’t even his disorder, really; it was all the same reasons.

He hated pills, he hated therapy, he even hated patterned plasters and fidget toys. Anything linked to his messy head was immediately despised, and it wasn’t something that Kyoya could make an argument for. Ask him why he scrubs the bathroom over and over, and he’ll stitch together his disordered thoughts just enough to make a coherent, if delusional, argument. However, ask why he refuses anything that would help in the slightest, and he would just throw out the first excuse his mind gave him, partially true or not.

“Kyoya’s my son, Yuzuru,” His father stated coldly, eyes narrowed, and he really must be annoyed if he was using first names in this setting, “I can take care of him myself. He didn’t like the idea of therapy, so inpatient would just be overly stressful and altogether a waste of time and resources. I keep up to date with the latest papers and research on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and I make sure he’s well cared for. It’s enough.”

There he goes again, talking for him with the best of intentions. That way, when Kyoya did get frustrated, he just felt like an ass for letting himself get angry at his father’s attempts to help him; it wasn’t like he was easy to deal with. Still, he was both right and wrong; he would never want inpatient care, at all, but there was the illogical hurt of not being asked about it. That, and his father wasn’t a psychologist; he was a doctor turned businessman; like Yuuichi would be. After all, despite Tamaki’s starry-eyed assertions, crazy people didn’t head companies; he was just a strange boy.

“Kyoya, get your bag,” His father instructed, and he obediently did so, if stiffly and slowly, “I think you need to rest; you look exhausted. We’ll go home, have something to eat, then you can go relax in your room.”

Planned, fixed, perfect, set in stone… Claustrophobic and crushing. He hated it.