#ears to the sky new ground all around heaven splits open and oh what a sound

[noodlesarecheese]

Someone may have already pointed this out but the name of the website changed. Instead of “ears to the sky new ground all around heaven splits open and oh what a sound” it’s now just “worlds beyond number.”

[aurabird]

Haunted Dreams

Sausage just wants to sleep...but trauma weighs heavy on the mind.

Tw: Nightmares, blood/violence, brief disassociation

Also on Ao3

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He walked through Mythland, a casual stroll through the streets of his empire to see it in all its restored glory now that he’d removed the corruption that had overun it. His citizens greeted him as he passed and he made a point to at least try and speak with as many of them as he could.

Then the sky grew dark, thunder echoing as lightning split the heavens and suddenly, the citizens around him were gone, as if they’d never been there to begin with.

Sausage knew what the storm meant and he ran; fear in his heart and panic in his mind. He needed to get away, he needed to hide. He was fooling himself, there was no hiding from the harbinger of the storm, no matter how much he wished there was.

He ducked into a building as he was inflicted with a blindness spell, cowering in a corner like a frightened animal. Maybe...maybe if he pretended they weren’t here like Joel did then they’d go away. Positive thinking right? That’s what Gem always told him.

“Hello, Sausage.” Xornoth said with a wicked grin as he came into view, “You and I have much to discuss.”

“No! G-Go away! I don’t work for you anymore!”

The demon laughed, “Oh Sausage, did you really think I’d leave you alone? You will never escape me!”

The next thing Sausage knew was been teleported, now on a netherbrick floor where familiar crimson tendrils were quick to bind him.

The blindness spell wore off and he felt his blood run cold. He knew where he was, he’d been here before when he was still under the influence of corruption. Even now he could almost hear the agonized cries and pleas of those he watched Xornoth torture...that he himself even tortured. Sausage could almost see Fwhip, Gem, and Kathrine bound and helpless, their blood still staining the ground.

“Its a new perspective isn’t it? Being on the receiving end of something you once enjoyed?” Xornoth questioned, twirling a dark, bloodied dagger in his hand as he walked “I cannot let your insolence go unpunished, Sausage.”

Suddenly, the demon was in front of him, its gaze meeting his own. “I wonder how easy you’ll be to break.”

  Sausage jolted upright with a cry, pain radiating in his right arm. He quickly looked at it in panic, expecting to see pulsating crimson veins. Instead, all he saw were the web-like scars where corruption had once been seared in his flesh. His gaze followed them from where they started at his wrist, and ended right over his heart.

He grimaced at the permanent reminders of what he’d done and averted his gaze to the room he was in. It wasn’t a dungeon where he would be tortured, it was his bedroom...in his keep...in Mythland.

There was no storm outside, moonlight shining brightly through the window and casting a gentle glow on the floor and walls.

A nightmare...that’s all it’d been. A remnant of the trauma he’d gone through. Still, there was no going back to sleep, not after that. Maybe...maybe he could go on a midnight walk to clear his head?

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, going over to his wardrobe and grabbing a simple undershirt, pants, and a cloak. It was a casual attire, much different than what he would normally wear, but it’d work.

Once he was on the cobbled streets he began his walk. Mythland was stunning at night, lanterns lit the paths and fireflies flickered in the air. The sound of night wildlife was therapeutic as it was joined by his quiet footsteps.

The bleating of blood sheep made him smile, with the corruption tentacles gone the symbols of his empire’s culture had come out from hiding, no longer afraid.

All was fine until Sausage could have sworn he saw a shadow move in the darkness. When he turned to look, it was gone.

Just a nocturnal animal he told himself before continuing down the path towards one of the residential areas.

He’d helped design some of the houses here himself and the sight of them made him smile. Light shone dimly through closed windows, alerting him that the residents were safe.

Then, in one of the alleys, he caught sight of a shadow, but it disappeared seconds after he made eye contact with it. A stray dog or cat he thought, that was all, there was no one out on the streets at this hour other than him.

As he continued he noticed that the sounds of the night had gone quiet, his footsteps echoed by another set behind him. He turned, but saw no one, not even the particles of an invisibility potion.

He was tired, that was all. He was tired and just imagining things. He was alone out here...he should probably head back home to rest.

Countless times more on his way back did he swear he was hearing footsteps, close enough to be in earshot, yet far enough away to be unnerving. He also could have sworn the shadow he kept seeing was following him. He knew it was just paranoia, once he was back in bed he’d be fine.

Soon, his home came into view and he went inside, climbing the stairs back to his bedroom.

He discarded the cloak, hanging it on the railing to put away in the morning and made his way over to his bed, not even bothering to get undressed again.

As he passed the mirror by his wardrobe though he froze, the reflection in it drawing his attention out of the corner of his eye. The second he turned to look, he recoiled with a yelp.

In the glass was a man that looked like him, a man dressed in black and grey with piercing red eyes and black veins marring their skin that had a faint crimson light flickering underneath. A sinister grin crossed their face as their gaze met his own.

“Look at you.” his reflection began in a distorted version of his voice, “Pathetic and weak once more. You were so powerful Sausage, you were feared. Don’t you miss it? The strength flowing through your veins, the magic at your fingertips. You could have had so much more too, if you’d stayed.”

It clicked then who the reflection was, it was someone he never wanted to see again, someone that terrified him. “I’m not you. I’m not a puppet for someone to order around.”

His reflection vanished and for a moment, Sausage thought he’d beaten his subconscious. He’d been wrong as he felt a sword go through him, the blade dripping with ink black blood as it protruded from his chest.

“You’re right,” came the voice of his doppelganger once more, “Because I am what you should have been.”

The sword was yanked back out, and Sausage fell to the ground, hacking and sputtering as the life drained from his body. 

“All I have to do, is kill you and take your place.”

The black blade of a corrupted netherite axe tore through the flesh of his neck.

  Once more he awoke with a cry, his hands instantly flying up to his throat instinctively in panic. Once he realized that his head was still attached did he dare open his eyes.

Sunlight came through the window and lit up the room, birds sung outside and the wind rustled the leaves of trees. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of his people going about their lives.

Tears formed in his eyes and he began to cry, ugly sobs coming from his throat at what he’d witnessed in his nightmare.

Then it dawned on him...what if he was still asleep? What if he’d just passed into another part of the illusion his traumatized mind was inflicting upon him?!

What if...what if he wasn’t really in Mythland? What if he’d failed in the spirit realm and as punishment he was left to suffer a nightmare for eternity?!

Who was he? The King of Mythland? The servant of evil? The condemned spirit left to be forgotten by those he cared about?

The mental turmoil was maddening and Sausage clutched the sides of his head, “Stop...make it stop...” he pleaded quietly.

A knock on the door snapped him from his spiraling thoughts, bringing him back to what he hoped was reality.

“Sausage are you home? I know you said you wanted to rest but I’m worried about you.”

Gem’s voice was music to his ears and Sausage quickly regained his composure as best he could before heading down the stairs to open the door for her.

“Hey, Gem.” he said with what he hopped was a happy tone, he didn’t want to worry her any more.

The wizard’s smile faded, “Sausage you look horrible, I thought you said you were going to get some sleep and recover!”

“What are you talking about Gem? I feel perfectly fine!” he countered casually, “I’ve been resting like I said I would after all!.”

Gem wasn’t convinced, “Sausage, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

The question had been an innocent one, but the nightmare from the night before quickly flashed before him. “N-No, because I’m...I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” he admitted as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"What do you think you’ll see?”

Sausage grit his teeth, his body beginning to shake, “Him, Gem...the corrupted puppet of Xornoth...”

"He isn’t you, Sausage.”

“No...he’s not...” because he’s who I was supposed to be...

Gem broke the momentary silence that followed, “You’ve gone through a lot, Sausage and while I still don’t know if I can fully trust you yet, if you need to talk about anything then I’ll be right over alright?”

Sausage nodded and wrapped his arms around her just to make sure she was real and not another trick played by his mind, “Thank you.”

-

He had spent the next several days working, doing everything he could to keep himself from falling asleep, afraid of what would await him. He’d dozed off a few times and had found himself in several scenarios.

  Sometimes it’d been in the arena, the other rulers falling to his blade over-and-over again, bathing him in their blood while he smiled in sadistic pleasure.

Sometimes he’d be running from a shadow that would always catch him, its claws digging into his mind to puppet him around once more

Sometimes he’d see the wicked grin of his twisted doppelganger as they drove a blade through him, their words poisoning his thoughts and filling him with doubt and fear.

Sometimes he’d be laying helpless as Xornoth tortured him. Trying countless painful methods to ensure that this time the corruption taking over his body would be permanent.

  And when night fell he’d just lay in bed awake, guilt and trauma weighing heavy on his mind. The things he’d done were horrible and now that he was free, he would be hunted relentlessly by the one that had controlled him and the hybrid that still followed them.

Sausage was scared. He needed sleep...he needed help...

That had been the one word shakily scribbled onto the paper he’d tied around a raven’s leg before sending it to the Crystal Cliffs.

-

A knock on the door the following morning forced him to get out of bed and go to open it. Sausage’s movements were sluggish but he managed to succeed in his goal. Gem stood in the doorway, her expression morphing into a grimace once she saw the sorry sight he probably was. “Oh Sausage...what have you been doing to yourself...”

He collapsed into her, unable to hold back tears any longer, “I can’t sleep Gem! Every time I close my eyes the nightmares come, even if its just for a minute. Please Gem, sleeping potions...or even some kind of sleeping spell...just something, anything to help me fall asleep peacefully!”

Gem couldn’t think of any way to reply, only held the broken person in her arms.

“How about we get you inside? See what we can do?”

A distressed  but agreeing sound came from Sausage and Gem helped maneuver him upstairs and back into his bed. The Mythland king looked terrible, his clothes disheveled and his face pale enough that the dark circles forming beneath his eyes were extremely noticeable.

“Tell me everything, Sausage. Tell me about the nightmares and anything that is bothering you.”

So he did. Sausage spilled every detail about his nightmares and paranoia, about every little thing he feared and pondered. Gem listened intently as he spoke, never once interrupting, just letting him get his thoughts out.

By the time he finished Sausage felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, it was...nice.

The last of his energy had been sapped from his venting and the clutches of sleep tried to bring him into their hold.

Gem stroked his head, her sympathetic eyes meeting his own tired ones. “Go to sleep, Sausage.” he coaxed, “I’ll be here to wake you if I sense something is wrong.“

Sausage only gave a sigh, his eyelids slipping shut and lulling him into darkness.

But, for the first time in an unknown amount of days, the nightmares didn’t come. Sausage was at peace, finally able to rest.

[bugsandchatons]

when you weren’t mine to lose (6)

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It’s been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they’ll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she’ll cross to save him.

[[AO3]] {from the beginning}

*****

[six: dear lord, when I get to heaven]

Another sunrise breaks the clouds.

This time, Ouroboros keeps an eye on the comings and goings of Paris from the secrecy of the shadows. She watches Chat Noir emerge from Marinette’s skylight and tracks his movements as he bounds over rooftops, carefree with his ignorance of what’s to come.

What had come. Past tense. As long as she breathes, it won’t happen again. 

She stays hidden as he sails through the sky. If his shoulders tense with every step closer to the Agreste Mansion, she notices, but discards it. She can do nothing about it now, but she’ll remember.

Instead, she lets him go, swearing it’ll be the last time she ever has to.

Revealing herself to him earlier had been a mistake. Tikki had warned her that even outside of Hawkmoth’s direct influence, the Akuma would still make her more easily moved by her emotions, especially negative ones. If she wanted to stay off this Hawkmoth’s radar, she’d have to keep it under control. 

And she would. Nothing would stand in her way when the time came. But she has hours to go, and until then, she does all she can do; she watches.

She keeps watch from the eaves of the clocktower as Adrien leaves his house for the bakery. She takes up a post in the tree across the street to see him leave with a pastry box in hand and his eyes on the back of Marinette’s head with an expression so soft she’s not sure how she never felt it.

From the rafters of the Gare du Nord, she watches Félix disembark his train into Nathalie and Adrien’s care. She notices how, as fans approach Adrien by the minute, Félix grows more and more caustic, and Adrien’s shoulders become more and more strained.

As Ouroboros follows them throughout the morning and into the afternoon while they drift between tourist attractions, she thinks of and learns many things: She wonders what Gabriel Agreste could be up to today that would convince him to allow Adrien out of the house for so long. She wonders how it took her until now to realize that Félix must be the one to become Mirror Image. She wonders, too, what makes up a person; how Adrien could be so different from his cousin, a boy who looks so much like him on the outside but couldn’t be more his opposite, or how Chat Noir could be so fundamentally unlike his father that it leads them to opposing sides of the same war.

She wonders how a boy raised in loneliness and derision could grow up only to be unfailingly kind, and learns that a heart can take so many breaks in so few hours and still keep beating.

As the day slips by, it occurs to her that this is what Chat Noir dies for: Hawkmoth’s insatiable greed and Félix’s poisonous envy. The brightest of them all ends with his light doused, reduced to ashes for nothing worthy of his life.

This is not how his story should end.

It sets her teeth grinding and gives birth to a rage so overpowering it’s nearly enough to have her throwing caution to the wind and storming the Agreste Mansion on her own - nearly. Instead, she takes a breath. She watches, and she remembers.

She watches Adrien trail behind his pitiful excuse for a family and sees the way he casts longing looks in the direction of  Françoise Dupont whenever their journey carries them past the school. What adds a final crack to the fault lines mapping her heart is the realization that, at the end of it all, the day that became his last was a disappointing one.

Let him go, she wants to scream. Let him go back to where he’s loved. 

She’s about thirty seconds from breaking, from swinging down from the Eiffel Tower and stealing Adrien away when the sound of a vortex opening makes her jump. Ouroboros spins around in time to see the blinding white-blue flash and a familiar figure stepping through it. 

“Oh, Minibug. What have we gotten ourselves into now?”

Ouroboros gapes at her. “Where have you been?” 

Bunnyx waves a hand. “Here and there.” Her eyes scan the area before settling on Ouroboros. She arches an eyebrow. “New suit? Edgy.”

Fury, as potent as it is misplaced, swells inside her until she’s seething. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say?” 

“No, not all. Come on, we’ve got to split.” Bunnyx takes a step back toward her burrow portal, but Ouroboros holds her ground. 

“What? No way,” she hisses. “I’m not leaving.”

Something like frustration flickers across Bunnyx’s expression. “Look at you, LB. We’re on thin ice already - all of this can snowball out of control at any second, and you’ve made a choice that’s going to have some consequences, so the best thing to do is-” 

“Where were you?” Ouroboros interrupts, her voice small. “I screamed your name for an hour. I begged you to come and help me, to help him, but now you show up? To try to stop me? Alix,” she drops her voice low, “why?” 

It’s enough to break through the mask of Bunnyx’s composure. She hesitates, then shoves a jerky hand over her rabbit ears. “Listen, it’s not...it’s not easy to be in there, okay?” She throws an arm out toward her burrow. “Most of the time, I can’t change anything, I just see it. The future isn’t set in stone and every choice we make can change a hundred different little things. By the time this path played out, you had already set out to change it. But now things are about to get complicated, so we’ve got to go.” 

“No.” Ouroboros doesn’t move. “I’m here to save Chat.” 

Bunnyx sighs. “And have you thought about how you plan to do that, little Miss Angry Bug-Snake? It’s already in motion. Unless you’re going to swoop in, be seen by half of Paris looking like that, and somehow snatch Félix Graham de Vanily’s Akuma out of thin air, it’s already over. And by the way, I don’t recommend that. It’ll do some serious damage to the timeline.”

“No,” Ouroboros repeats, crossing her arms. If time and fate were an unstoppable force, she would be an immovable object. “I’m going to stop the battle.”

The exasperation in Bunnyx’s expression gentles. “That’s not going to work, Ladybug. I’ve seen this go down, I’ve tried to find a loophole, but it really only ends one of two ways.”

“And those two options are?” 

Bunnyx looks away. “Either Chat dies, or Mirror Image does. If it goes that way, we end up with a guilt-ridden, akumatized kitty situation.” She puts her hands together and mimes an explosion, which Ouroboros supposes is meant to be a crude representation of the moon.

The bottom promptly drops out of Ouroboros’s stomach, and out of her world. “I...I don’t accept that.”

“I know,” Bunnyx says, not unkindly. “But the horrible truth is that if Félix gets akumatized into Mirror Image, he becomes Chat’s bane - someone isn’t going to make it out of that fight alive, and it’s too late to stop it now.” 

“What about me?” Ouroboros demands. “Why can’t I do anything?”

“You’ve lived it, you saw it first hand. His powers mess you guys up, and there’s just no way you can move fast enough between realizing what’s going to happen and Chat using Cataclysm to physically stop him. And this,” Bunnyx gestures to her, “is already a mess.” 

They’re silent for a moment. Ouroboros’s chest heaves while Bunnyx waits. Then, Ouroboros speaks again. “You said I made a choice that’s going to have consequences. If that’s why you’re here, why didn’t you stop me when I made the choice to be akumatized?”

“Because that choice, while wild as hell, is not ultimately the choice I’m talking about. You made it just now before I showed up. Or, well. You’re about to make it, soon enough.” Bunnyx waves a hand. “Minutes, seconds. It’s all semantics, really.” 

Ouroboros didn’t think so. The most memorable things happened in a matter of moments - a shared smile, a turn of luck, a broken heart. The whole world could change in seconds when a life ended and a choice was made.

“You said it wasn’t set in stone,” Ouroboros says, lifting her determined gaze to meet Bunnyx’s. “I’m going to find a way to save him. You have to let me try.” 

Bunnyx stares back. There’s a beat, then another, before she sighs. “I guess if anyone can, it would be you.”

Ouroboros blinks. The clocktower chimes the hour, and her heart pounds hard against the cage of her ribs. Somewhere in Paris, Ladybug is waiting. Somewhere below, in the crowd, Chat Noir is trying to get away. She knows, she knows, but seeing it is a different thing entirely, and she has to get back to Adrien, to know for sure - “You’re not going to try to stop me?” 

Bunnyx already has one foot inside her burrow. She offers a jaunty two-fingered salute. “Let’s see if you can rewrite fate, Minibug. Good luck.”

With that, the vortex swallows her whole, and Ouroboros feels it even more keenly - the slipping of time as it begins to run out.

 *****

She starts running.

At twenty-two minutes past, Chat Noir will make it to where Ladybug is waiting. They will race to Trocadéro, where she will almost tell him her name before the Akuma attack interrupts. By the clamor of the next bell, he’ll be gone.

She has less than an hour to change history.

Ouroboros glances up at the dusk-glooming sky, finds the outline of the waxing moon, and figures she’s managed harder feats than this.

A round, smooth object, hefty for its size, materializes in the palm of her hand. When she glances down, she frowns at it - a pocket watch, vintage and peculiar - but when she focuses on the time, it tells her she doesn’t have much left to spare for pondering at the form it took.

Adrien and his group have not made it far from where Ouroboros let them out of her sight. Every few minutes, he casts his eyes around, looking increasingly desperate. She can sympathize. The busy square alone would be a nightmare for transforming, to say nothing of having to escape Nathalie and his bodyguard’s watchful stare. With every passing moment, Adrien grows twitchier. That could be enough of a confirmation.

Still, she knows a part of her will never believe it until she sees.

An opportunity rises when Nathalie’s phone rings, right as their bodyguard steps away to grunt an order to a café worker. Adrien takes the chance to slip away, into the crowd. 

Félix follows him.

Ouroboros tries to draw close enough to hear without sacrificing her vantage point. This is it, she thinks.

In moments, they’ll go their separate ways - Chat to find her, and Félix to the waiting wings of an Akuma. Whatever it is they say to each other, it’s the final catalyst. 

She wants to know if it was worth it.

It’s a morbid wish, and ultimately one the universe does not grant her. All she’s left with is the frown on Adrien’s face and the sneer on Félix’s. Adrien turns away from him, the line of his shoulders tight. He misses the way bitter resentment twists Félix’s face.

She can’t imagine anything Adrien could say that would warrant such anger from his cousin, but she supposes that’s not the point. In the end, it doesn’t matter; it couldn’t be anything worth the cost.

With a final scowl, Félix goes in the opposite direction, while Adrien retreats further into the spaces between buildings. Ouroboros shadows his steps until he finds an alley away from prying eyes.

Her heart starts pounding a vicious rhythm.

She watches, numb, as Plagg zips out of his shirt, a little black blur, and disappears into the ring on Adrien’s right hand. When the green flash of magic fades and Chat Noir stands in his place, there’s no triumph of a theory proven or a curiosity satisfied. There’s only another splintering crack to a heart made of glass.

They wasted so much time chasing each other in circles.

It makes sense now, why for years she could never confess her feelings to Adrien, just as she struggled to share the truth with Chat Noir. Deep down, she’d known in her heart what her head hadn't - she couldn’t do him the injustice of loving in half-measures. 

She can see the whole picture, now: a lonely boy, intoxicated by the sips of freedom that his Miraculous grants him, stuck under the thumb of a father who cares very little and values his life even less. A broken boy who chose to be a hero, who makes that choice again with every passing day. One who loves loudly and fearlessly, and values her so highly that he’d throw his own life away in the blink of an eye. 

Tomorrow, Ouroboros thinks, swiping away an angry, errant tear. Tomorrow, when this was over and resolved, her partner would begin to learn his worth.

He’ll know, without a doubt, that he’s loved.

 *****

As horrible as the circumstances are, it feels like a gift to see herself this way. She and Chat make a pretty picture as they fly through the darkening blue sky and leave laughter in their wake, just as they do back to back, taking a moment alone to breathe.

A glance at the watch tells her there’s no more time for regrets. She could ache over the time they wasted until her heart gave out, or she could focus on beating the clock and saving him.

It begins any minute now.

When civilians start screaming and Chat Noir and Ladybug spring apart, Ouroboros takes a deep breath and moves. The heroes drop down into the street, and she scales the building closest to the one that provides the setting for their fatal face-off.

Her mind races in time with her frantic heartbeats. She holds out a hand, a silent plea for help - for anything that will help her change the course of this fight.

A dark red recurve bow comes to life in her grasp, bringing with it two slender, black arrows.

She offers a grim smile. One shot, and one second chance.

She’s never shot a bow before, but Tikki must know what she’s doing. Luck, she thinks, wouldn’t dare fail them again.

Ouroboros lifts a hand to her face. She presses a kiss first to Chat’s ruined ring, then to the darkened charm strung above it, and waits. 

When Chat chases Mirror Image up onto the rooftop, Ladybug on his heels, she studies the Akuma the way she hadn’t had a chance to before. He’s barely visible, but the setting sun glints off of something metallic where a pocket might be.

A pocket watch.

She wings a silent thanks to Tikki and a prayer along with it. They’re down to seconds, now.

When Ladybug reaches for her yoyo, Ouroboros lines up her shot and draws the bowstring back until her fingers brush her own cheek. She breathes in and lets her first arrow fly free on the exhale. 

The arrow snags Mirror Image’s pocket, tears the watch free, and pins it out of reach. It dangles from its chain; snared, but not broken.

Ouroboros curses under her breath.

All movement below stops for just a second like someone’s pressed pause, before they resume once more. Her distraction was enough, though - Ladybug calls for her Lucky Charm, and without Mirror Image right in front of her to stop it, the hand mirror she receives is red and black spotted, as it should be.

Mirror Image moves next, his focus on Ladybug. Ouroboros watches Chat’s face change into something fierce and determined and thinks of action where once, she’d been frozen instead.

Someone, she remembers, isn’t making it out of this fight alive.

So she touches a hand to the Miraculous around her wrist and does what she couldn’t, before: she slows the passing seconds down and moves, throwing herself into the open sky. 

As Ouroboros falls, she lines up her next shot and thinks again of what makes up a person - of skin and bone and sinew, of expanding lungs and pounding blood, the impossible, miraculous measure of being alive. She thinks of hard choices and sunbeam smiles, of a stubborn heart, strung together by wild hope and unwavering faith in her partner.

He calls for his Cataclysm right before he sees her. In slow motion, she can see the way his eyes fly wide, how his brow furrows beneath his mask. She looses her last arrow and lets the bow fall, then holds out her hand.

I’m sorry, Chat. He’ll not make it out of this battle unscarred, she realizes. None of them will. 

But he’ll live, and she’ll be there to hold him up through the storm that will follow. 

Her arrow hits its target, this time. The pocket watch shatters, and Ouroboros drops in between the hero and Akuma. She catches Chat’s smoking hand in hers before it can make contact with the fading mirror, or Félix on his knees behind it. 

Cataclysm is a cold sort of burn, Ouroboros learns. She gasps at the ice in her fingers and toes as something in her chest catches fire. She shuts her eyes against the pain and thinks again of where the light goes when the night inevitably comes to claim it. Then, she forces her eyes open and finds it, in glowing green eyes. 

[dearlazerbunny]

Let it Go (Ch. 1 of ?)

Pairings: platonic avengers team x reader, potential background loki x reader

Words: 1800

Genre/Ratings: -WARNINGS- there will be an (unsuccessful) suicide attempt by reader- chapter will be explicitly marked in advance. Drug (pills) and alcohol abuse, lots of negativity and self loathing. There will be an arc, but said arc is going to start in the eleventh circle of hell and inch up from there.

Summary: *not far enough into this one to give an accurate summary, so this’ll have to be updated eventually. enjoy for now!*

If I see another ad for Frozen, I might go homicidal.

I pass at least five of them as I work through rush-hour Manhattan at a snail’s pace. Smash Hit! Instant Classic! #1 Movie in the World! Awesome. Fantastic. Happy for you, Disney. Now please, dear god, get it the fuck out of my face.

I jerk away from narrowly shoulder-checking a businessman hustling down the sidewalk, speaking rapid-fire into the phone glued to his ear. It’s like a very, very fucked up dream; everyone in the world is in on the joke, and I just didn’t get the invite. Maybe they were spying on me. Sure, it could’ve been inspired by a fairytale, but who knows? I could sue. Demand fifty percent of the profits for copyright infringement. That’d be more than enough to set me up with a cabin in Alaska, somewhere all I’d have to worry about is making friends with the polar bears.

On the subway, I notice someone has Let it Go blaring from their earbuds. No less than three little girls are wearing something blue and covered in glitter. One has a cheap blonde plait clipped into her hair, accented by a snowflake charm dangling from the end. I suppress the urge to rip it off her head.

It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I want to say. It’s not Disney-dreamy like the mouse has made it out to be, living in a palace and making magical snowmen and singing power ballads about self-acceptance and overcoming your demons. In the real world, you quell those demons with a fistful of benzodiazepines, because if you don’t, something like a car alarm or a slammed door will make spikes of ice splinter through the floor around you. It’s constantly wearing three hoodies at a time, so that way if a stranger on the seat next to you brushes your arm, they don’t immediately get third-degree frostbite. It’s getting a papercut and watching the blood freeze on the tip of your finger, then melt back to liquid when you break it off and toss it away. It’s getting hospitalized when an inner-city charity doctor takes your temperature before you can object and your body temperature is barely higher than freezing, so they pump you full of warm saline and cover you in foil blankets and all that heat makes you sick, so you have to rip the IV out of your arm and walk yourself back to your apartment in your hospital gown while dodging orderlies and strange looks from passerby at 2 AM.

The kid and her parents get off at the next stop. The subway clicks along. I try to make myself smaller as the car fills up with more people.  

Maybe if they’d had Xanax in Arendelle, Elsa wouldn’t have had to deal with all that “conceal, don’t feel” bullshit. She wouldn’t be able to feel anything with all the pills and booze she’d be mainlining. Take it from me, babe, it’s a lot easier to drug those demons away. Much more effective than a song.

Something in me feels a weird flare of pride for handling this… whatever the hell it is better than a fictional cartoon princess. Then I want to laugh, because goddamn, my life is pathetic.

My meeting spot is in a back alley near Bryant Park. Some NYU kid is pawning his Klonopin for party cash, I guess. I think if you’re rich enough to be a frat boy at NYU you probably don’t need the extra fifty from your prescriptions, but whatever. I don’t have a ton of other avenues at this point.

I scan the neon bottle, then shake it open and count the pills inside. “These are only a half milligram? Fifteen.”

“Dude, we said forty.”

“Yeah, for a milligram pill. These will barely last me a week.”

“Twenty.”

“Fine.”

I don’t think the universe agrees with my choices.

The sky splits open with a shriek that balances the world on the edge of a knife. One heartbeat. Two. He and I both look up at the clear blue, unsure. Between the skyline, I see something- somethings- begin pouring from a split in the universe, ugly and black and hungry.

I wrench the bottle from the kid’s hands and run.

Run, run, run, don’t look up, don’t look back, oh jesus what the FUCK IS THIS- Midtown is a nightmare. Not from Friday traffic this time. People are scrambling, screaming and crying, trying to flee the scene. An entire side of a building gets shaved off and falls to the ground like an iceberg. A gas line broke somewhere because everything is hazy with fumes and starts shimmering rainbow colors. I round a corner, cursing and trying to keep my ratty converse on my feet as I dodge rubble and ash- don’t look up don’t look up don’t look up. I can see my breath starting to crystallize around me as my anxiety spikes, and I try to force it down. Don’t think about it. Now is so not the time for that.

In the middle of the street, six brightly clad superheroes stand with grim but determined looks on their faces. There’s Tony Stark in his mechanical suit, Captain America brandishing his shield. The star stands out like a beacon in the smoke. Cool, coolcoolcool, they’ve got this, right? They’ve totally got this. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to befineohholyshitthat’sabigalien-

I try to use an overturned car as cover. Dart to one, breathe, press my back to steel and try to shake my body back from shock, wait for a moment of silence between the chaos- run to the next pile of rubble. My footprints are outlined in frost on the cracked pavement, clean white against the ash raining from the sky. As I slam myself up against another car, heaving, I have a prime few of Captain-freaking-America bashing three ugly aliens in the face with his shield, battering them to the ground. He stops for a moment to flex his fingers, wipe some of the grime from his face.

He doesn’t see the alien rushing him from behind, mouth open and yawning in some sort of hideous grin, poised to shove a glowing blue gun against the Captain’s muscly back.

I don’t think. My feet move without my telling them to. I can taste the ash as I dart to the middle of the street, as close as I dare. The air around me is impossibly frigid. I’m not controlling anything at this point, but I can deal with that later. Hopefully.

“DUCK!” I scream as loud as I possibly can over the sound of metal and roaring monsters.

His eyes snap up to meet mine. He heard me, somehow, and then he actually heeds a random girl standing amidst the carnage and hits the deck so fast I can hear the whiplash. It’s hot enough to make my skin boil, but if I stretch my hand out and pull, I can feel something begin to crystallize in my waiting palm-

Fissures crack open in the concrete beneath me. In my hand, a thin lance of ice extends to a deadly point, too weighty for its slim frame, and while I should have all the grace and skill of an alcoholic drug addict, my aim is good enough that the alien now has an unforgiving pole of ice sticking through its breastbone. Frost creeps from the hole in its chest, discoloring its sickly black armor to a grey tint. For a moment, it's suspended in time, unmoving- then gravity takes hold and with one last nightmarish shriek it crumples to the ground in a heap.

Huh. Whaddya know. I flex my fingers, breathing hard. Take that, Elsa. Screw the power of love, I just single-handedly saved a national icon.

Said icon is picking himself up off the ground, a new layer of dust coating the front of his uniform. He looks behind him, at the ugly corpse and the ice that inexplicably hasn’t started to melt in the city’s heat. Then his eyes are on me, hard and curious.

Oh. Fuck.

Instinctively, I pull my hood up further over my head, hopefully obscuring more of my face than before. What did he see? Could he memorize my face? He knows I’m a freak show, that’s for sure. Fuck. My brain kicks in and I run, skidding over broken pavement and letting the sheer terror of a crumbling New York fuel my steps. Either we’ll all be dead by the end of this, or the strange girl with ice coming from her hands will be little more than a hazy memory after all this is said and done. I hope. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it- cold prickles on the back of my neck and pushes me back towards being just another face in the crowd.

  There are over a dozen police blockades to try and control the battlefield, and between them and the rubble raining from the heavens, it takes me what feels like hours to crawl back to my underside of the city. It’s punctuated by the grinding of metal and shattering of glass and sickening cracks of lightning from Midtown, making me flinch and wring my hands deep into my sweatshirts to keep them busy with something other than frosting the ground over. Don’t think about it.

I shove my shoulder into the door, forcing it open, then close it the same way from the opposite side. I flick the locks closed, secure the ball and chains. Each one is encased in frost by the time I’m done, and the doorjamb is clogged with ice. I’m suddenly irrationally thankful that there’s only one window in the apartment. It’s a stupid comfort- those things were leveling skyscrapers, a ratty building like this would be flattened in an instant-

I wrench open the nearest drawer, sending the contents rolling. Bottles clack against each other; pills rattling against the plastic. It’s the most comforting thing I’ve heard all day. I pull one out at random, pop the lid, down it dry. In the back of my mind, the large green monster roars. I shudder and swallow another, this time chasing it with swigs from the obscenely large bottle of booze on the desk. It burns all the way down in the best way, chasing the little orange tablets and promising the sweet release of nothing.  

That should last a day. Maybe more. I fall into the bed, already feeling the combo tug at my system, making me heavy and slow. Maybe Manhattan will still be standing when I wake up. Or better yet, Manhattan will still be standing, but I won’t. I’ve never been that lucky, but it never hurts to hope.

[thenightau]

Endangered

((TW: Generalized gore, vomit))

The deity sighed within its castle of destruction. The walls were rotting and covered with vines and moss and mold. In the distance was screams of those who hadn’t lived such peaceful lives. The wind picked up the scent of blood, rot, and desestation. It lounged in a chair made of human bones, legs thrown over the arm of the chair, and its blue hair falling behind them as they stared up at the ceiling. 

“Uuugggh. Im bored.” It muttered, turning onto its stomach and puffing its cheeks out in a pout. “I should check on that SMP. I wonder what they’re up t-”

“Your dastardly-ness!” Came a small, squeaky voice of a man. And it turned its head. The man was mortal, a spirt enslaved in this hellish place. “Words come in from Builder. He needs your help-”

“What?” It asked, sitting up with a wide grin. “You’re telling me. Alexios. Needs my help?” It leaned forward, and the mortal coward back at the gleam in its eyes. 

“Yes Endanger.” He said, “Builder wrote that he needed your help containing Night before-”

“Oh.” It deflated, relaxing back in its chair. “Bo-ring. Go get him to have Protector fight his battles.” It waved its had dismissively. 

“But your dastardly-ness. Protector… can’t.”

“...What?” It asked, eyes narrowing in on the mortal like a lion’s on its prey. 

“Protector… is dead. Night killed her.”

“HE WHAT?!” 

The mortal coward under the shaking roar that was Endanger’s voice. Endanger stood, extending it’s hand as a battle axe, caked red with blood, flew into its hand. It stormed towards the door as the human stammered to explain. But Endanger didn’t hear an ounce of it. It slammed the door shut, yelling behind it to make sure nothing got better in its absence. 

___

Builder paced within the night, pulling his hair as most of the hermits slept. Save for Xisuma, who was watching over Grian and Wels like a hawk. He stared uselessly at a large map plastered to the wall, his brain trying to come up with something, anything that might help him defeat his sibling. But no matter what thought crossed his mind, it was always met with;

‘Protector wouldn’t think thats a smart idea.’ 

‘Protector wouldn’t like that.’

The thoughts made him want to scream out of frustration. He kicked at the wall holding the map, watching as the item frames crumbled to the ground. He let out a slow sigh, leaning down to gather the papers and put them back up before anyone saw his stress induced anger. 

No. He had to stay calm. Collected. For the sake of his son. 

He heard a loud, shrill battle cry. One that came from the heavens and made the hermits jolt to attention. Builder looked up, seeing a blur of blue in the sky before it landed in a ball of smoke. 

Endanger as joined the server

“Endanger! You came! Oh thank void-” Builder smiled, but that smile faltered as the war god stood slowly, skin still steaming. 

“Oh-” muttered Cub

“My-” gulped Bdubs, sweating nervously. 

“Void.” Xisuma cured, eyes wide at the god in front of them. 

Endanger was tall, as was the rest of them. With longer blue hair parted heavily to the left with the right side shaven. In its hands held a battle axe, one still oozing with blood. Covering its chest was a pale dark purple colored chest plate, wearing skin tight clothing underneath it that was tan in nature. 

But that wasn’t what horrified the hermits, no. 

It was the multiple gashes on the deity. The burned, charred hands and feet. Its face was horridly mauled, and Xisuma briefly wondered how the hell that thing saw anything. It was glaring heavily, but not towards the hermits. 

Its anger was directed at Builder. 

“L-Listen, Endanger-” Builder stuttered, waving his hands around and taking a step back from the clearly angry god. 

“You mean to tell me. I had to find out. My sister was dead. From a servent?” The god, known to mortals as Endanger, or the god of brutal war, snarled, its axe pointed at Builder. 

“I’m sorry! I was just busy with trying to get the other hermits back and-”

“Wait wait wait. Hermits?” Endanger looked at the mortals, who all inched back at its gaze. Its eyes locked onto Iskall’s, who was still mostly in his own daze and not paying attention. “You.” It pointed to the other, “You’re Iskall, right?” It asked, and Iskall looked over, nodding a little. 

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re Doc’s friend. Right?”

“I mean we’re all friends-?” Iskall looked at Builder, confused by this gods questions. 

“Then where is he? I don’t see him in your ranks.” Endanger asked once more. Iskall paused, afraid to tell this deity the truth. “Answer me.” 

“Hes… with Night.” Iskall said, eyes glued to the axe in the others hand. Endanger went quiet at that. It seemed to ponder something, only for a few mere moments before it’s angered expression turned into a large grin. 

“Well then. Lets go get my disciple back.”

___

Xisuma was crouched beside the god, and had to breath through his mouth as to not smell the heavy scent of rotting flesh that came with it. Endanger was grinning, completely hidden by the brush of the jungle. Nearby was Iskall’s half burned Omega tree, the start of Grian’s mansion, and the start of Mumbo’s…. Mega base? 

He slowly looked at the god, whose eyes were narrowed in front of it, peering through the bushes and looking about ready to pounce. Its clawed and charred fingers were curled tight around its battle axe’s handle, the sharp blade shining in the dim light. Endanger glanced down at him, only flicking its eyes over at him. 

“Do you want to know how to scare a god shitless?” It asked. 

Endangers voice was… odd. To say the least. It sounded like at least two people talking at once, it sounded sharp and cold, hissing like a snake. And yet it sounded joyful and mischievous. 

“Uh… Sure?” Xisuma asked more than said, but Endanger nodded anyways. They only waited a few more minutes in the jungles humidity, before Endanger’s body tensed, clawed feet digging into the ground as it got ready to pounce. 

“Follow my lead.” 

Was all Endanger said before an ear splitting war cry left its lips, well. It seemed like a war cry. To anyone else it sounded like a banshee screech. It leaped out from the bushes, catching Night fully off guard as it slammed its battle axe into the ground, Night barely missing. 

“SHIT-!” Night hissed, Beside them was Doc and Stress. Well… Doc and Princess. 

Xisuma rushed forward, and used his sword to try and knock Doc down, but was simply met with a sword rivaling his own. 

Endanger laughed, pulling its axe from the ground as its milky white eyes bore into Night’s through the mask. “Did you really think I wouldn’t show?” It taunted, swinging its axe brutally fast. It heard a yelp as Princess ducked down to dodge the swing, creating wither roses to hopefully still the god. The blackened thorns tore into Endangers skin, infecting the god with the withering effect. 

But it did nothing. Endanger ripped the vines from it, lunging once more for Night. The other drew their sword, barely blocking the axe in time. 

“I was counting on it actually. Just wanted to get to you first.” Night grunted, sending a punch to the other god, even if just to make them back away. Their fist collided with Endanger’s nose, and a loud crack followed by blood flow indicated they broke its nose. 

Endanger stumbled back, before glancing over to Princess, who had instead focused on trying to subdue Xisuma. It grinned lowly. 

“You hurt my disciple. You killed my sister. And you think I’d join you?” Endanger asked, its axe hooking around Princess’s waist and drawing her close. 

“Fuck. No.” 

Princess drove its clawed hand through Princess’s chest, the mortal gagging on her own blood as she shakily looked up at Night, fear flashing through her face before Endanger ripped out the mortals heart. Princess’s body collapsed onto the floor, before it vanished. 

Stressmonster101 was mauled by Endanger 

Endanger grinned at the look of horror Night was inevitably giving it. Endanger tilted its head back, mouth opening at it raising the still beating heart above its mouth. Its long tongue wrapped around the organ. Before swallowing it whole. 

“Thanks for the snack, Night. Now. HOW ABOUT THE MAIN COURSE?!” Endanger’s axe drove into Night’s arm, nearly cutting the limb in two. Night just straight up fled with their wound, vanishing into the dark of the jungle. Endanger laughed, blood dripping from its hand as it turned to face Xisuma and Experiment. 

Xisuma had ran into the jungle a small ways, vomiting onto the ground. Experiment stood in horror as the deity came closer. It rested its bloodied hands on his shoulders, falling to its knees. 

“Doc? Can you hear me?” It asked, and Experiment dared to growl at it. 

“I am not Doc.” It said, and Endanger laughed. 

“Always so feisty.” It sighed, before lifting Doc onto its shoulder. “Well. I have what I want. Hey wimp! Come on! Lets go back to the other wimps! Wait till they hear bout this!”

Xisuma groaned, slowly standing on shaking legs as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. 

“How about we don’t horrify the others to the point of throwing up?”

“Awwww-”

~~~~~

AAAAnnnd!!! I’m back and able to post one shots on this account again!! :DD 

Happy New years everyone! Take this as my present to you all! ~Ollie

[cllovegood0617]

Verdant

A project I had to do for school but ended up liking enough for posting on here. I hope you like it too 💙

A fairy tale is something that children grasp on for something that is different from harsh and rough reality. Fairy tales give children a new world to live in for a temporary time while reading and includes magic and imaginary beings or lands. Some may star a beautiful princess that goes through a turbulent of identity finding events for this said princess. Then she runs into a handsome prince that sweeps her away into his arms, dances away in the night, ends it with a kiss and they both live “Happily Ever After”. I once was a girl that was missing my two front teeth but yet still imagining my handsome prince finding me. However, I did end up living my own, and it is my secret but I am willing to share it with you. But, it wasn’t exactly plotted like how the Grimms Brothers or Hans Chrisitian Andersen had written their fairy tales. In fact, mine doesn’t include a prince at all. Mine is about a girl that grasped something that is different from harsh and rough reality. 

I can argue with anyone that Zendaux is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I live in a secluded area where it is surrounded by grass fields as far as the eye can see except for the litter of forestation that is near my house.  My house was crafted by my grandfather in 1954 and was designed to be exactly how my grandmother wanted it. It has a burgundy tiled roof and a glorious wrap-around porch that I’ve always found so lovely. He named it Willow Avenue since my grandma is named Willow and they met on Locust Avenue. They had a tradition before they both passed away to visit Locust Avenue at least once a year together. My grandpa even brought my grandma’s urn with him on his last trip before he joined her in heaven. Then my dad would bring both of their urns to Locust Avenue, I went on these trips with him too before… he died. My mom was going to sell the house once my dad died, and I was so devastated at that news so I knew I had to do something. So I bought it instead. The air this early in the morning filled my nose with the freshness of the morning dew that is sprinkled over the shamrock green soft grass. In my childhood I would roll down the hills that are lining the horizon and run to jump into my dad’s outstretched arms. He’d place his hard calloused hands on my soft small arms as I was trying to wriggle out with all my might to run back up the hill. Then he’d laugh after me like he always did and say “Goodbye my Lightning Bug!” As I was fully enveloped in my nostalgia, suddenly I heard an earsplitting sound that resembled a deer that perhaps has eaten too much sugar. Then I gasped in amazement as the tallest tree to reach the skies began falling eastward. The hoarse cracks of ancient tree bark snapping at the roots, and then the thud the tree made once it reached the ground made a deep sound that proved to me that trees don’t make much of a sound once they fall. 

Suddenly a large swish erupted in the air and that roaring sound from earlier broke through the silence that once was. I felt my defense kick in as I jumped in surprise from the sound, then I fell into a large grin. Other than a different squirrel that appears on the porch, you don’t normally see mysterious events happen at Willow Avenue. I stood up from the porch swing and began searching the trees that I could see from my position frantically. Then out of nowhere I saw a large juniper wing that resembled the canopy of a tree that soared over and surpassed the height of the other trees. Then became hidden back into the forestation as quickly as it was exposed. I know what that is; I wouldn’t be able to forget all of the bedtime stories that my dad would tell me. I have a dragon living in my woodlands.“Okay, okay.” I said breathily “I have a dragon in my front yard. Oh when you say it like that Whitney you sound crazy.” Then I realized that there is literally no other way to state what is happening. I sighed “I have a dragon in my front yard. Okay. Let’s think, what would Dad do?” He’d probably walk calmly up to the forest and greet the dragon like an old friend that has been a recluse for years. He was a strong believer in that everyone and everything has something beneficial to the world. I began pacing back and forth on my porch, and I flung open the front door to Willow Avenue possibly too hard, and bolted up the stairs like I would when I was younger once I would feel like something scary was chasing me. I knew the layout to this house like I knew the back of my hand, so I took the familiar route to the room that stored all of my Dad’s research papers. I used to never be able to touch these, for even my dad said that what was in them I should not know at that moment. He said I wasn’t ready. “Sorry Dad. I need to read these. You’d say this is a vital moment for your notes.” I knew exactly which book I needed since I have been eyeing and desiring to know the contents of it since I came in here for the first time when I was 7 years old. I grabbed a large dusty book that had 7 capital letters on the front that spelt DRAGONS and Austin Woodruff lining the bottom of the book. Austin is my dad, and I know that he meant for me to read this when I would need it because in the inside of the book where typically the author’s note would be; I read a letter that appeared to be written for me. “Whitney, there are secrets about the world that I should and could never tell you. Although I know that you will need this information to stay safe. I hope that you find what you are looking for in here. I love you to Jupiter and back. Love, your father.” I suddenly noticed that a tear of mine dripped onto the page. “Dang it.” I whispered as I dabbed where I wet the page. “I love you to Jupiter and back too Dad.” I repeated like I did when I was younger going to bed. With new determination, I began the search for what specifically I am dealing with in my own front yard that has now become a fantastical forest. Slowly, I flipped the first page and began to read what my own father had discovered about dragons-a creature that I thought could not exist in my universe. The first page covered what a dragon is and what one may look like, the third page explained how to groom one properly, and the seventeenth page was directions to where I could sell their talons. I was getting emerged in the information this book was providing that I have been imagining reading for decades, but then I heard that screech again. Quickly, I scrambled up on my feet and rushed to the window where I could spot the whole forest. However, somehow I still could not fully see the dragon, only the same two wings. “Come on, I need to hurry up and find what I can do.” I flicked quicker through the pages and I stopped abruptly when I saw exactly what I was looking for. There was a dragon drawn on this page and it resembled the wings exactly to the one that is living in my forest. “Ahah!” I yelled in success. Swiftly, I sped read the section about the “Greenland Hornshakle Dragon” and I read out loud the paragraph I needed. “These are hostile creatures. Do not approach them. Your life is at risk if you do so. No way to tame them.” as I was reading I suddenly felt scared, I thought I hadn’t found anything I could use to protect myself and Willow Avenue. Fortunately, my dad provided that solution for me. He wrote that I need to use his Willow wood Staff that has been passed down from generation to generation in his family and I would’ve been the rightful heir to it if he hadn’t died before having the chance to tell me himself. For the second time since I’ve been in this room, I heard the ear splitting screech once again from my dragon. I slammed my book and Also, I heard sirens arriving in the forest from the police station. They must’ve been alarmed, and I watched as the police troops began chasing impulsively towards the yells. This time I saw both of the dark green wings flash above the highest canopy of the trees. I need to hurry up and figure out what to do. Instantaneously, I remembered that my dad was the master of fantastic fantasy events.Taking a deep breath I began sprinting towards the woods that I have lived next to my whole life. Once I stepped past the first tree, I felt that eerie silence that fills these woods all of the time, but now it doesn’t scare me. I run further and deeper into the woods continuously now feeling the bouldering yell of the dragon on the soles of my feet as if the yell is pushing me to where the dragon is. I desperately was trying to search the floor and sky for the dragon, and then I swallowed a breath as I saw it. It was a colossal verdant dragon that nearly towered over the tallest sequoia trees that have been growing here before all civilization has. I paused abruptly and almost tumbled down onto the muddy floor as I was able to make eye contact with its amber eyes. The police troops already got here before I did, for they were already gathering strategy on how to push the dragon out of the forest.

My staggering and uneven gasps of air must’ve alarmed the dragon because it moved with a start. I had to duck into a bush because the dragon swiped its tail panicky into the nearest sequoia making a booming sound that we all covered our ears for. The dragon groggily tried to stand up, but as soon as it stood on it’s left foot it staggered back onto the ground. I looked quizzically at this dragon that I thought would be disastrous and a nightmare, but instead it was timid, scared, and more like a mouse than a dragon. I relaxed my shoulders and began walking slowly to the shrinking dragon, and I noticed that the dragon was a girl because once she scooted over I saw one baby dragon that was as tall as a full grown giraffe. “Hey hey! Stop! This dragon is a mom!” The police lowered their limitless weapons and opened their eyes in clarity. Compared to the giant mom dragon and the ginormous sequoias surrounding this family, the police, and I; it made the baby dragon seem just like another dust fragment in this universe like all of us humans are. I compared the two dragons and noticed that the mom has a longer snout while the baby has more of a robust snout, so I assumed the dragon was a baby boy. The baby dragon hid behind his mother’s leg and the mother dragon put her wing over him as a warmth method. I hadn’t realized it until now, but I have goosebumps wrapping around my arms and my knees have been shivering. I wrap my arms around myself, and let out a shuddering breath from the cold. Then, Mom dragon scooted a little closer to me and lifted up a tremendous wing as an invitation to enter. Carefully, I entered the warmth that a dragon can give to something apparently.

“Whitney! Are you okay?” I heard the chief of police yell at me “Yes. I am okay. You guys are fine to go. Thanks for your service.” I said as a response, but freezing at this point and the forest is a lot more frigid since the canopies cover the sunlight from entering. “No we cannot leave her here sir! That dragon is a menace! It will try eating her as soon as we leave!” I heard a new voice command to the chief. “No we leave now, that’s an order.” I watched as all of the police began following the chief except for that man that didn’t think it was right. “Graham! We leave now.” Graham did not want to be moved. He stood staring at the mom dragon, but then he did begin to turn around and walk away. However, as soon as the chief turned around Graham cocked his gun and you only heard pop once. I have always been impulsive and ambitious, but sensible people would’ve said I went a bit too far. But I knew I had to do this, I had to do something above myself. I jumped out from under the wing and instantly felt a pang in my chest. I felt my chest hotten as if I pressed a hot ready iron onto it. I heaved forward and realized that I couldn’t quite grasp for air. I could only hear and see at this point. I heard the mom dragon screech and she brought her head down to me as all the police were watching and the chief rushed to my side. “Whitney! Whitney! Say something!” I think that’s the chief yelling. “Go. Fly…” I whispered to the mom dragon, and she must’ve understood because I couldn’t see or hear her or the baby boy anymore. My chest began hurting even worse than before and suddenly I couldn’t hear anything anymore except for four words that I’ve been waiting 12 years to hear, “Hello my Lightning Bug.”.

[brokasteltranslations]

Fate/Requiem: Chapter 8

Dusk was closing in.

Other incidents, big and small, had occurred around the outskirts of the Colosseum, and the heart of the city had been effectively paralysed with the temporary absence of the municipal administration AI, causing accidents all across Akihabara. However, the communication and transport networks were recovering, and governmental and medical institutions were returning to full functionality with all possible haste.

-

At long last we exited the Colosseum. An enormous crowd milled about the exterior. News of the tragedy had finally reached families and friends of spectators through the municipal information network, and they had come en mass in search of their loved ones. Some screamed the names of missing family members. Others wept and wailed for those already lost.

After the ferocious battle inside, the outside wall looked to be only moments away from collapsing. Black and yellow tape had been strung up to keep people away.

“You know, I have this weird feeling I just saw him back there.” Karin looked around suspiciously.

“Who's him? Kuchime?”

Karin nodded hesitantly. That wasn't like her.

“Only for a second, though. Might have been imagining things.”

“Maybe he came to see if we were okay? Guess that's still kind of weird.”

Karin's carefree laugh was enough to set me at ease.

“Speaking of missing people...” I scanned the sea of people around me. “Oh, there he is.”

The boy stood alone in the middle of the crowd, straining his ears to hear their cries and sobs as though listening to music. I recalled his face before as he asked me what “death” meant. It looked to me as though he were hoping to find an answer.

To see him standing silent amid a sea of human grief, with his golden scarf fluttering in the twilight sun, he hardly seemed a creature of this world.

-

Nzambi had spoken of an expanding kingdom of the dead.

Death was no stranger to us. It had always lived hand-in-hand with us. In this city, it had simply been ushered from the stage, covered over and hidden away. Sometimes its eyes had been covered by my hands, sometimes by those of the municipal administration AI, and sometimes by Chitose's porcelain fingertips.

“Chitose?”

I looked my grandmother dead in the eyes as I asked.

“That black dog... The Servant. You know what it is, don't you?”

I could make as many theories as I pleased as an outsider, but what really mattered was that it had called me by name, and had some kind of acquaintance with Chitose.

“You reacted when Pran mentioned it, and you didn't hesitate to attack it with your stakes. You know what it is, and you knew about what was going to happen here today.”

She didn't answer me. Neither did Lucius, now dressed once more in his modern attire; he furrowed his brow sadly, but said nothing. No matter how dear he was to me, in that moment his silence left me furious.

-

Eventually she spoke, but it was not to answer my question. She had ignored me. Again.

“There's something I need to tell you, Erice, now that Caren can't.”

I tensed. Nothing ever came from her but misfortune.

“It's about the child she entrusted you with. I'm going to take care of him from now on.”

What? Whatever I had expected, it wasn't that. I shuddered at the request.

How much was she going to take from me? She had taken my work, the boy, Caren... Even my parents, she had stolen. I had no intention of going along with her wishes any longer.

“I refuse.”

Her face didn't falter for a moment. Apparently she had been expecting as much.

“But I doubt you'll respect that anyway, will you?”

“I suppose I won't.”

She glanced to the boy standing some distance away. I moved to block her way.

“Ms. Fujimura didn't just charge me with taking care of him. She also asked me to discover what I could about his identity.”

“That doesn't matter any more either.”

I shook my head. “But it does. I think I've found an answer.”

“I see. It looks like you don't have any intention of doing this the easy way.” Her Command Seals flared to life on the backs of her hands - the symbols of the Stigmata, and tokens of a piety willing to subject her own body to the pain of crucifixion. And she called out to her Servant.

“Lucius.”

Surely she doesn't mean to...? Her Servant hadn't moved. He stood still, eyes downcast, as though he hadn't even heard.

“Lucius.”

Chitose called to him again, in a kindly voice that made my blood run cold.

“Please, Lucius... Don't do it...”

I sprinted for the child, but I was too late. Before his Master's Command Seal could flare brighter, he began to move, mechanically, robotically. He manifested his spear...

And hurled it at Pran with pinpont accuracy.

----

The clash of colliding metal rang out like breaking ice, and Lucius' Holy Lance spun high into the twilight sky.

There he stood, in front of Pran, in the space I had been trying so hard to reach: Galahad, stripped of his armour and down to his shirt. He held his sword high and horizontal, staring down Longinus as he interposed himself between the centurion and his prey.

“You could've run and left Koharu to Nzambi, but you didn't. Consider this a debt repaid, Reaper girl. Though I'm not sure you’ll thank me for it.”

The spinning lance returned to earth once more, bound for the earth directly in front of Galahad. The knight snatched it from the air a split second before it hit the ground and tossed it back to a dumbfounded Longinus' feet.

“Maybe the Sword of the Strange Hangings doesn't look like much, but sadly for you, the shepherd boy it belonged to ended up king of Israel.” Galahad's voice was haughty. “You won't find many holy relics more sacred.”

“I see. The sword of David, then.”

“And no other. They say no armour can stand before the Holy Lance, but this sword might be able to get in a stinging word or two. As you just saw.” Galahad chuckled as he returned his blade to its sheath.

Koharu!

The girl in question had been returning to our group after receiving first aid. She strolled over to silently take her place by her Servant's side. Her face was twisted in a pained grimace, but I saw no hint of surprise at Galahad's actions. She had been watching my argument with Chitose from the beginning.

“Or well, who knows? Perhaps you expected me to stop you from the first.”

Longinus remained silent. I glared at Chitose. Finally she relented, and with a sigh her Command Seals dimmed.

She called out to Koharu as she stalked past. “Get well soon, Riedenflaus. Your strength will be needed soon enough.”

“O-Of course.” Koharu paled. She couldn't even look her in the eye.

With that, Chitose and Longinus left the Colosseum behind.

-

I needed to thank Koharu and Galahad somehow. I even thought up a plan to invite Karin and Kouyou and go to a juice stand together, but before I could...

“Urgh... Agh!”

Searing agony assailed me. I grabbed my burning arm and grimaced. This was not the pain brought on by the evil spirits; it was something I had never felt before.

Before I knew it, Pran was standing in front of me. He opened his mouth solemnly.

-

“I... ask... you...”

-

He spoke directly to me, and only to me, in the same broken English as when we had first met.

-

“Are... you... my... Master?”

-

Heat and agony raced down my arm, tracing mana pathways into my body... and at long last a Command Seal, the symbol of the contract I had dreamed of since the day I was born, flowered into being on the back of my hand.

Like a tiny knight, he took that hand in his own, and gazed up at me serenely.

I was smiling. Perhaps I was crying, too.

“You really have come from far away, haven't you?”

“Very far.”

“I know who you are now. You're Voyager. A lonely little Servant who travels the stars.”

My words never left my mouth, but he heard and nodded regardless. “I’m glad. Finally we've met, Erice.”

Here and now I swear...

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell.

“It’s okay. Let’s destroy this world. Let’s finish this war.”

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. If you submit to this will and this reason...

I pledge my fate to your guiding light.

“Your wish and what I have lost are the same. We’ll watch right to the end, together.”

----

“The Holy Grail War... is not yet over.” The light in Ms. Fujimura's eyes dimmed even as she spoke.

“Do you wish to fight, Erice? Or perhaps...”

I wished, hard - to hurl myself into the battle for the Holy Grail, and to bring it to its end.

Ms. Fujimura looked up at me with sadness in her eyes.

“I see. In that case, Erice, I have one last request for you. If you choose to fight...”

-

“Go to Fuyuki.”

To be continued

[sugar-petals]

Your First Time With Yoongi

warnings ⚠️ femdom!reader, bondage, slapping, masturbation, name-calling, cunnilingus, wow yoongi gets NASTY 

word count: 2.6k | hc

↳ ♡ NOTE › for anon who also inspired the ‘first kiss with yoongi’ post. look what you’ve done. writing this made me lose my cool. let’s dive right into it.

you’ll probably be fooling around watching miscellaneous videos from your feed 

and sorting through some clothes for the upcoming friday dinner

at the cozy italian restaurant next door

when you see yoongi come home looking, maybe not concerned, but more lost in thought

it takes a day or more until you ask him about it

brooding yoongi always means he’s weighing the big decisions

that you already know

but how it could possibly be something sexual you didn’t expect at first

because the only thing he says is that your second monthiversary is coming up this sunday

you reply yoongi that’s such a funny term

he says yeah it just made him think

it takes another day until you realize that he’s been unobtrusive letting you read between the lines how you see fit

and make that decision vice versa

it is about time to bring the relationship to a next level

yoongi sees the way you look at him

the last few weeks were proof enough he was worth giving it a go. you both knew what you were in for

as of now, you did make out a little at hoseok’s last halloween party (yoongi was in such a cute ghost costume). and kissed a whole lot during your vacation in london all lovey-dovey. but you didn’t have a chat 

so you nudge him at breakfast. what about friday?

after going out, you’ll have a whole evening to talk things over at home. no stress no pressure

agreed says your boyfriend

friday comes, you get a nice spot at giorgio’s rooftop terrace restaurant

literally it’s perfect to set the tone, the night sky is clear

after splitting the bill on antipasti for you and chili pepper pizza for yoongi the mood is right for some intimate talk and there’s no wine needed

but not in front of giorgio’s other guests alright

you return home flirting

to sit in your tiny courtyard garden with the fairy lights on

as long as no mosquitoes show up you have a long and frank conversation with a lot of surprising turns...

monthiversary sex on sunday it is

three cheers on that!

yoongi is giddy all saturday long and takes ten minutes more in the bathroom than usual, and five more in the shower

as if he isn’t dapper and groomed already

sunday afternoon, you do feel your hands getting a little sweaty yourself

the time has come

this will be exciting

you both prepare the living room for the evening, equip the center table with everything needed, eat some light snacks and drink plenty of water beforehand

the sun sets boom a leonardo dicaprio dvd goes right into the player

you’re both comfy on the sofa, intertwined, it’s fucking cute

you feed yoongi some more pretzel sticks

he makes you laugh

and nuzzles into the nape of your neck cuz cat behavior

the atmosphere slowly changes when the movie does

with leo getting all frisky and sweaty on screen, yoongi’s hands also begin to fumble at your hips, your skirt

and eventually

with you just murmuring just enough hot ideas in his ears

slip down to spend their time caressing between your legs

yep yep

the party is getting started

his hands are only shaky until they find the right spot. 

a pianist is merely on edge until he hits his favorite key indeed. and yoongi is that pianist. 

you can tell by his movements how he considers you music. now let that sink in

you’re his favorite tune 

RIP panties. those huge bony fingers know how to soak them 

phew

they have endurance, too

you already know that this will be a passionate night

leo goes through twenty character arcs on screen while yoongi is still flicking those tips

really. getting. into it. stimulating you with one, two, three fingers at once, curling, rubbing, stroking, dipping

miss clit says thank you

no finger cramps in sight with mister ‘miraculous’ min yoongi

meanwhile, poor leo falls victim to the pause button

you repeat the safeword to each other

‘two’

(because second monthiversary ok)

and here we go

flustered yoongi sits up, you pulling that FG shirt off, him then leaning against the backrest of the couch with legs splayed laxly

you climbing on top face to face

hot hot hot

yoongi wants restraints, he said. restraints he gets. a dozen feet of loose hemp rope are waiting on the table already.

you bind his hands before the chest, mainly knotting the rope around the wrists with an extra simple tie that keeps it foolproof. 

you do have safety shears on the table also

it took some time to remember the knot but it was some interesting stuff to learn

and... we’re talking yoongi’s sexy hands

what won’t you do just to see them tied fuck yes 

a kiss follows

long, deep, and increasingly lewd

only interrupted by you taking off your top and panties. the skirt stays on although it’s getting a little shoved up

yoongi remains seated as he is, starstruck as hell cuz your body has him fucked up

in the meantime you turn around to press your ass right against yoongi’s crotch

with a some more audacity right there

not taking any chances beyond this point

the poor guy

steady ruts and gyrating are sure to fry his brain with you taking all the time in the world to rub your core all over his growing boner

the skirt only provides more friction to the whole game

“you’re so cruel, please, oh my god”

someone’s worried he blows his load way too early

well oops

“take it. lil’ sucker”

you gaze back over your shoulder. sweet, suffering yoongi has his eyes closed and bites right down on his lip. 

he looks more concentrated than when he produces something in the studio i’m telling you

with your every push and rub, the tent in his blue shorts gets more upright, the fabric even more tense

and his voice whinier

and your pussy much wetter 

that’ll be quite a bit of laundry tomorrow

with every new grind you realize

better have mercy and slip a condom on before he does cum in his pants 

regardless you decide that your new favorite hobby is to tease the living hell out of him

by just how stiff he really is you can tell there are in fact two people enjoying that

holy shit when you get his pants off there’s a sight to behold

honey boy loves the cruel girls

it’s no secret yoongi is a fan of all things technology but damn he really is a master with the electric razor those are some pube gardening skills on fire

and he smells so good

and that juicy dick

is just one of a kind

UGH

the lube that’s been waiting on the couch table... will have to keep waiting forever 

hallelujah you’re dripping

“that’s... not going to be a long ride, yoongi”

“i, i know”

(just how much of a han solo is he!)

“should we wait for a minute?”

“probably better”

the boy gets the best of you it seems 

oh, sweet horniness.

a two minute TLC break gets the racing pulse down and the suspense up

admittedly just cuddly stuff with yoongi doesn’t make it any better

he. really. smells. so. good.

sandalwood, jasmine, something herbal, whatever it is, that mix makes your mind implode

“yoongi. i want you.” 

so bad.

just seeing him with his big dark teddy eyes and bound hands is kind of a fucking lot to take in okay

not to mention his voice just getting that extra deep edge when he tells you he wants you too

FUCK

the two minutes are so hard to bear, you just want to get going and ride him and hear all those slutty moans

and corrupt his every inch

as per friday evening you know yoongi doesn’t plan to fall short on the vocal department whatsoever and who can blame him. his raspy baritone is a surefire way to make your thighs tremble

and by virtue of profession, rappers aren’t known for staying silent when it comes to issues they’re passionate about aren’t they

rolling down the rubber you grabbed from the table is challenging enough because good heavens you’re touching him this way for the first time it’s just hard to believe and hard to the touch

his breath accelerates big time

you’re careful but also firm enough to ground him 

“ok, shall we?”

yoongi’s desperate hum in reply comes with two quick nods

slow, slow, slow, take it slow you say to yourself

but your wetness doesn’t lie. 

yoongi’s piano hands were like an open sesame to your walls

they went pop 

let’s get down to business bring that cock

you crave that filling BAD

when you align and slip him in with one not so steady hand cuz jesus christ you’re completely high-strung

those teddy eyes are on you like big brother 

because yoongi monitors hard for any discomfort you might have

he probably realizes that he’s not a desert-dry 9:50 PM tampon on the fifth period day when the backsides of your thighs cushion down on his loins

WHEW, THAT SLIP

better than any conditioner out there 

he’s in

it stuffs you so well, you can’t help but moan out

yoongi’s hypervigilance still hasn’t entirely faded though

“is that okay, does it hurt? is it—”

“shush, bun. watch.” testing, you give yoongi a good first bounce, far up and down, that baywatch slow motion... mother of god, your labia have a sweet time stretching around him. “it’s very okay.”

“a-alright,” he says

oh god yeah

another bounce on that. it’s already an addictive feeling

that’s what yoongi meant by ‘seesaw’

you rest your hands on his shoulders — and they’re made for that, i mean they’re just that broad — and really feel into how he glides in so nicely

with a slick and noisy plunge

gotta make sure to really savor all of those facial expressions from him ‘cause they’re pretty damn intense you have to give him that. never did you even fathom how his eyebrows could just escalate like this

yoonaerys targaryen!

that cock’s too good

so sleek. and comfortable 

advantages of having a perky lil dick 

he fills out your walls so perfectly

this is getting so heated, watching his body become so twitchy, his tied hands

with all those red blotches at his neck. 

it doesn’t take many more movements, no matter how playful the edge

that you have to pull off and enter phase 2 of TLC breaks with yoongi’s dick resting against his stomach all sensitive

this time you french kiss 

that’s how you know yoongi is not just a sucker. he’s a sucker

obsessed with nibbling at your lips and guzzling your saliva like wtf that’s not a break yoongi that’s making your girlfriend cum like new year’s eve fireworks

are all daegu boys freaky like that what is in the groundwater there?

you have to stop his hungry mouth and take a long damn breath

why is yoongi such a sex bomb

though what’s not to love about it

seriously you can’t take it much longer and he sees that 

“you wanna use your fingers, babe?”

“if you allow me,” he licks his lips, which means adding fuel to the fire, he can’t help it.

“say please.”

“please.”

you start to fiddle with the rope knots

yoonaerys targaryen soon has free hands

rope marks suit him so well, that shit just turns you on even more

time to switch it up then the final is around the corner

changing spots on the sofa, you recline, legs apart

yoongi slowly rubs you off with his flat palm to keep the pressure light

and not to overstrain his wrists too soon

then comes the infamous naughty tongue lowering down to your pelvis... nipping, swift and staccato. you have rightfully dreaded this moment because geez he hooks you on it 

next comes

the tip of his cock. i know right, good grief. guided by keen hands, rubbed against your clit, patting it, poking it, glazing it until it’s all coated all wet and pulsing like mad, what the fuck yoongi 

he makes you completely swollen

and repeat

it’s a triple t(h)reat technique adapted straight from the realms of fiery hell

palm, tongue, cock rubbing against you. palm, tongue, cock. palm, tongue, cock.

YOONGI HAS YOU SCREAMING AND WINDING

that demonic trick is guaranteed not to go on for very long 

point of no return says hiya, i’m here to mess you up girl

next turn his curling tongue comes to visit and dips between your labia

you can’t hold back anymore

and blow up in his face

whatever control there has been in your legs has now shut down entirely

yoongi has to deal with the full dose of slowly oozing jizz cuz boy he just buries his face even deeper once he sees the contractions starting

at this point he has solidified his sucker reputation

mister miraculous min just keeps eating and slurping while you cum your soul out. the pleasure is like a current taking over

making you curse

until you’re running of breath

with ‘point of no return’ handing the baton to ‘dizzy overstimulation’ you pull yoongi’s head out from between your thighs by the hair

yoongi kneels before you ruined

man... his face is dripping 

he even got cum in his lashes

“shit, yoongi!”

“please. punish, i want, i, please”

seldom that yoongi’s rapper mind says sorry i’m out like that

looking back it makes sense. who orders a flaming chili pepper pizza for date night but a grade a masochist 

cue friday evening protocol

you fumble off the very slippery condom and grip his cock by the base. hard.

with your other hand just in reach of his face

in comes a ringing slap to his right cheek

“a—ah, ah! more!”

slut yoongi is back in town and his cock really has to stay strong

because holy hell you jerk him off fast

getting greedy and erratic

yoongi cries out his orgasm with a whole white milky mess landing on his stomach, his thighs, your hand, your skirt, who knows he might have shot a constellation into the sky if it wasn’t for the ceiling

with the last drops gushing out, a giant fatigue pulls the plug on him

oh man

his hair goes in all directions. his face is slapped red, his wrists are marked, he came all over himself.

100% sex wreck 

you can barely keep yourself steady either

but you can at least reach for the soon-to-be-dirty-laundry towel on the table 

and clean up your salivating puffy teddy 

only to pull him close to you

two fucks covered in sweat all slack on the sofa, worn out

but happy

yoongi keeps on babbling and breathing hard 

seeking out closeness to your belly

you let him lie down his head on there

time to pull a blanket over the two of you right there once everything cools down

yoongi gazes up at you a bit cheeky even if he’s super tired

“kinda know what you’re thinking”

“that’s what a monthiversary has to be like”

“nothing to add”

“except: repeat tomorrow”

wrapping up the weekend all sloppy is a good luck charm for monday

“my bad. of course”

“you’re just amazing, you know that.”

“i was gonna say that to you”

safe to say that guy has your heart

“so... same time, same place, different movie?”

“sure babe i’m in”

while you both doze off, intertwined just as before  

you can’t help but think

man that was life-changing

[paulieshore]

Obey Me / SCM Au Series

Warnings: conflict of interest, triggers, drama, minor angst

Words 3158

I do not own the rights to these characters, characters belong to:

·         Obey me! Shall we date

·         Star crossed myth - Voltage

  Chapter 10: I’ll Do Anything

 Rain fell; dripping off your face, the fighting raged on around you. Not that you could hear, sounds drowned out by the falling of rain and sobbing. Focused on the still smiling individual; dead in your arms.

Moments ago, you were hugging his warm, heart pumping body in Solomon’s apartment.

Next….

You leaned over and placed a kiss on his cold forehead, even in death he was a smiling idiot. Tears continued along with the rain drops, soaking the pair of you.

.

The streets were in utter chaos, police arrived on scene, guns raised behind open car doors. News vans and cameras set up, reporting whatever was happening behind them. No one could believe what they were seeing, figures, creatures and people of some sorts; combating. Like something right out of a horror film, in the midst of the chaos a broken girl holding a man.

.

“M-Mammon, please don’t go.” You gently shook him; eyes still open “I’ll do anything you ask of me; I’ll even do your homework”. Hoping with some miracle, bribing him would magically bring him back to you.

Leon grabbed your arm and tried to pull you away “Get up! We need to leave!”

Your heart was in agony, your soul crushed. A build-up of something inside you triggered when Leon insensitively tried to take you away from your friend. You had no intentions of leaving Mammon, not unless you were taken away in a casket as well. Strength from deep within, as you shook his hand off and briefly made eye contact with the god.

Leon was shocked when she looked to him, something changed in her eyes. The stars that shined in them swirled, as if a cosmic galaxy was being sucked into a black hole; your pupils dilated. When you shook him off, he felt something else force his touch away.

He wondered ‘What is this, power?’

The rain that had been falling stopped and floated in space. Orbs of light from the fight; black and white, frozen too. Sounds muted, only one’s own breathing could be heard. Everyone was confused, and mesmerized; as if they were all under some spell.

The atmosphere rapidly changed to an even more alarming state. The air dropped to freezing temperatures, and then hiked back up to extremely humid and warm; fluctuating. The sky began darkening, and twisting, right above.

An aura surrounded your very being, Leon tried again and slowly reached out. “Y/N?” he cautiously spoke to you.

Something unleashed “GET AWAYYY!!” screaming at him.

The aura pulsated and sent a shock wave out as you belted, everything around you and Mammon pushed away with great force. Cars flipped, trees uprooted, everyone around thrown 20-30 feet from their spots. Even Karno and Leon were thrown with such force, windows shattered, the ground split outwards from you. Lightening of red scattered across the sky following a horrendous rumble of thunder. The police and news crew, thrown back with no effort. Front ends of their vehicles lifted, sirens and lights set off by the impact.

The aftermath was that of a bomb.

You turned your head back down, tucking it into Mammon’s chest. The ground began to rumble and shake, the harder you cried.

.

.

 The Underworld / Heaven

 Everyone stopped throughout all of Devildom, everything began to shake. Shingles on buildings began to fall off the roofs, demons ran around the streets ducking for cover in nearby shops.

An earthquake?

The demon lords castle also shook with greatness.

“What’s happening Barbatos?” Diavolo sturdies himself against a wall.

Barbatos stumped “I never seen anything like this when I peered into the timelines!” Holding onto a nearby side table. “Is it the King, sir?”

Diavolo shakes his head “No, this feels different, it’s much stronger!”

*In ruins of the old fortress*

Partheno stumbles sidewise when the ground profusely begins to shake, “What in the hell?!?”

The ruins of walls crumbling faster with the shaking.

“IMPOSSIBLE?!? IT CAN’T BE!” The dark kings face twists into shock. He grasps his chest; an old wound begins to burn with heat.

.

*Screams all across heaven*

Vega looks to Kivy “My King, what’s going on?!” she falls to the floor unable to stand.

Kivy’s eyebrow raises; the corner of his mouth twitches too “My, my, her powers have awakened….” Gripping his throne.

Zyglavis appears with a stagger, “Your highness!! I think now would be a good time to intervene!!”

Cocking his head to the side, “No, the shows only just begun.”

.

.

 Human Realm

 Lucifer stood up, his ears buzzing as he tried to balance himself. He frantically looked around, seeing his sibling’s bodies scattered about. Far from where he was, he sees you holding Mammon, noticing the constantly changing aura around you.

It was growing as if it were alive, taking shape into a dome. The wind around began to pick up, rubble slowly being dragged by an invisible force towards it.

.

*SNAP*

Huedaut appears, he can’t believe it; the destruction.

Only moments ago, he was staring into the pool, the streets looked nothing like this. His eyes are attracted to an illuminating spectacle. This glowing light at core of it all, you. His feet begin to be pulled, dragging along the cracked concrete.

.

“I’m sorry Mammon, this is all my fault *hic* It’s all my fault!” Gripping his cold body tighter.

.

Crow pulled himself up, a tree had landed on top of him. All the reinforcements began to retreat, “What’s going on?”

Servillah approaches to aid him, he points over to where you were “It’sss the girl!”  Both of them stunned, no one warned them the mortal still had her previous life’s glory. They had every right to flee, they’d once faced off with this power alone and were easily out matched.

“Will live to die another day!” Crow spat before they disappeared into mist.

.

Hue couldn’t believe it; it really was her… 

Only she had such brazen power hidden behind compassion. He had a hard time believing this mere mortal was the incarnation of his lover, but this pushed aside all doubts. The closer he got the more he witnessed how the power had evolved almost, the dome was tearing things to shreds upon contact.

“No…”

.

The boys slowly gathered; sheltering themselves, Solomon was knocked awake when he hit the ground. He stood in awe as he watched what was happening, and how you were unscathed. “I knew there was something special there…”

Asmo grabbed a dazed Solomon and dragged him behind a flipped vehicle, “What do we do!?”

They all looked to Lucifer.

Lucifer’s face was pale, a single tear stained his cheek.

“…”

“Lucifer?” Satan called to him.

He looked to his younger siblings and without a word, began to march towards her.

.

.

 The House of Gods

 Aigonorus was the only one oblivious to what was happening, fast asleep. Zyglavis returned swiftly from heaven, with no orders.

“Hue has gone!” Tauxolouve warned him “Dammit what is he thinking!”

“He is the master of his own choices; Hue will have to face the King after this matter.” Zyglavis responds with regret.

.

Everyone respected Huedaut, he was the wisest of them all. Considering all that had happened personally to him, he still pushed forward. Lately though it didn’t go unnoticed; he seemed distracted. How Zyg wished Hue worked in punishments rather than wishes, he could have kept a closer eye on him.

Zyglavis, as someone who understands the great need for balance. He understood the balance Hue must be seeking out for within.

.

Dui points down into the pool “Look!”

They were watching the drama, Huedaut appears, being pulled towards you.

Scorpio says scanning the scene “Where is that damn Lion and Karno?!”

Krioff takes a head count “Um… Where’s Partheno gone?”

.

.

 Human Realm

 Lucifer could clearly see, but he didn’t have the slightest clue what he was going to do. He just knew he needed to get to you.

Pain, she was in pain.

He wanted to console you, weep with you. He related to the pain you were feeling, the guilt perhaps. He didn’t want you being alone, that was his brother, he’d share the burden with you.

The closer he got the more it felt like something was crushing his lungs. The same sort of feeling when they approached the mansion that day.

He struggled to breathe, “Y/N?!?!”

.

.

“Y/N? ….”

“Oh Y/N? You need to get up for school, you’re going to be late at this rate?!” A voice called out to you. A woman draws open pink and yellow curtains.

Sitting up, ‘wait, where am I?’ You rub your eyes and look to the her.

“Mom?” Your eyes were burning, it’s been so long since you’d seen her face, or even heard her voice. ‘Can this be?’

“What’s the matter babe, are you not well again?” 

She reaches over moving your fringe, putting her hand to your forehead. “My god, your burning up! I’ll call the doctor!” She tries to leave the room when you grip her wrist.

My hand? It’s so small…

Her voice silvery “Babe, please lay back down, everything is going to be alright.”

‘I was somewhere else, wasn’t I? Is this real?’ You were questioning yourself, but you couldn’t remember where or what else you were just doing. 

Your mouth seems to have its own control.

“Mom, I’ve missed you!” Your voice was small.

The look of confusion on her face “I haven’t been anywhere babe? Just rest, I need to call the doctor”

She turns to leave; you reach out again trying to catch her before she goes. All you grab is air, her body disappears into a smoke like substance. You jumped from the bed, afraid.

“MOM!!”

‘No, no, no, it can’t be!’ This familiar agony rising in your chest.

Rushing out the bedroom door, the hall contorts, shifting into a hospital. The smell of cleaners, reminded you of dead hopes and dreams; filled your nostrils.

…

“Miss!”

Turning around, a nurse staring at your bewildered, a folder in her hands. The reeking hospital was too much, a faint pain in the back of your skull began.

“You shouldn’t be wondering outside your room. Come now, I’ll help you back to bed.”

You somehow already knew the answer but your mouth asked anyways “Where’s…. where’s my mom?”

She paused and casted pitiful eyes at you, catching a glimpse of her name tag then; Charlene. She crouched down and gently took your hands into hers, “I’m sorry miss, your mom is gone… Your appointed guardian will be here soon, you need to rest; doctor’s orders.”

‘Yes of course, I knew that’ 

It was strange, you couldn’t decipher whether this was a memory or reality. Everything was so surreal; didn’t you know a nurse named Charlene?

“Your mom wouldn’t want anymore harm to come to you now.”

Slowly it came..

‘Of course, Mom’s dead. 

She died instead of me; it’s my fault.

I got sick and she had to get into the car and take me... She was singing to me in the car, when...

We were hit. 

Mom didn’t make it... It’s all my fault.’ Your head began to throb, you’ve already lived this.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” She picked you up and held you close.

A familiar voice ringing from behind.

“Excuse me nurse, please, I’ll take her”

You look, now it made sense. ‘Of course, I remember you.’

He approaches with large strides, exchanging quick words with the nurse on duty. He gently takes you from her, “I’m sorry it took so long Y/N, but I’m here now, it’s going to be alright.” He tilts his head slightly, “I brought you some ice-cream, why don’t we go and share it?” Smiling.

How could you forget a smile so calming, so kind?

.

.

Karno slowly sat up, he was thrown over a metal bench not far from the scene. Taking a moment to get his barring, troubled by the sight. His eyes falling to you, how his heart ached.

The image was similar to that; fifteen years ago.

.

.

Huedaut got closer, he didn’t care at this point, rubble of stones and branches hitting him.

“Fate?!”

She didn’t respond to him, head still down. She was shaking, holding Mammon. He gambled his options, and threw himself into the dome like shield surrounding you two. 

The pain was in no measure to what he felt inside himself.

He hit the ground hard, it was calm and quite contrast to the chaos and destruction outside. He could hear your teeth clattering, nose sniffling.

He whispered your previous name once more “Fate...” Slowly wrapping his arms around you.

.

.

The memory morphed…

You were sitting on a stone wall looking out to the most breath-taking sunset.

‘What, what’s this?’

“Mom! Mom, look what big brother got me!” A young boy skips behind and takes the spot next to you. “Isn’t it beautiful Mom, I like this bracelet very much, oh! Not nearly as beautiful as you though!”

You stare at him briefly, his cheery tone reminded you of someone… But who? Your mouth again moved on its own accord.

“It is indeed my handsome boy. Asmodeus did you thank your brother?”

‘ASMO?!?’

“Yes, mom. Luci got one for you too!!”

You knew Asmo, he was a demon, right? Your head felt funny again… What’s going on?

.

.

She was as cold as ice, shivering and crying. Huedaut peered over to Mammon, reached and closed his eyelids.

Lucifer appears inside the dome next, worse for wears.

calling to you “Y/N, let’s take him home…” hoarsely.  

No sooner after those words, everything stopped.

.

.

Lucifer’s Pov

He watched as Hue threw himself inside, observed as gashes tore into his body. He quickened his pace; and followed suit.

Huedaut closed his brother’s eyes, Lucifer was slightly annoyed on how he addressed you. ‘She isn’t her, this is Y/N.’ he thought. He called to YOU, that’s when the chaos abruptly halted, things falling and crashing to the ground.

Your body slumps forward, breathing laboured.

Huedaut carefully pulls you back, and releases your deathly grip on Mammon. Checking your vital signs, he then turns his attention to me.

“I’ll do anything” I croaked out, almost pathetically.

I have already sold my loyalty for my sister; I am willing to surrender my very life for MY brother.

…

…

*SNAP*

.

.

 Devildom

 Diavolo was looking over old archives, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what had happened earlier. His help; Barbatos, also couldn’t see anything in any of the time loops. 

He knew this sort of glorious magic, the sort a god could only wield. He wasn’t 100% certain, after the place stopped shaking, he immediately dived into research.  

He suspected Kivy, King of Gods was manipulating Barbatos visions. What was he hiding?

...

“My Lord, we have company.” Barbatos enters Diavolo’s study.

He briefly looks up to him, not hearing a word he said “Are the preparations set?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good, could you-”

“My Lord? I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have company. A visitor would like to speak to you personally.”

Diavolo sets the papers down and looks questioningly at Barbatos. “Bring them in”

He shuffles to the side and slightly bows his head. Huedaut walks in slowly from behind him, cradling in his arms; Mammon.

“Huedaut, God of Aquarius…… is it?” Glancing down to who was in his arms.

He nods to Diavolo “I have a proposition for you”

.

The House of Lamentation:

 Hue snapped you all here, before he picked Mammon up and vanished.

“Where’s he going with Mammon?!” Levi suspiciously asked.

“…”

Lucifer walked over and picked you up off the floor, he turns to his brothers “I ask, of you all, just believe in him.”

No one had the slightest clue what he was trying to imply, or what was going on. At this point there wasn’t much too do. The brothers were exhausted, their minds, hearts and souls a mess.

Solomon speaks up “I can have a look at her if you want, you should sit down for a moment” Noticing the amount of blood that covered him.

Lucifer’s eyebrows pinch together, “No, I will take care of her.” marching out of the room.

He took you straight to his study, and laid you body on the sofa gently. His face inches away from yours, whispering

“I will protect you with my life, Y/N…”

He drops a feather like kiss to your lips before getting up and making his way to the bathroom.

.

.

 Heaven

 Kivy watched your dreams progress, constantly fiddling and showing you the worst of your days.

“Hm, so Death is your trigger…”

He continued watching in the floating mirror, only this didn’t reflect his image.

It presented to him dreams and memories of all beings.

The mirror was thick, with perfectly proportioned grooves on each side of the polished silver. He smiled as he watched you interact with Karno, how your eyes illuminated when you spoke about stars. He waved his hand in front of it, changing it to another time.

The time you fell off your bike, and gruesomely skid your knees. Watched as you tried with all your might to be strong and not cry out in pain.

He found it funny how you couldn’t figure out whether this was a dream or not.

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory...”

He was going to enjoy toying with you, he wanted to see just how strong you could be before begging for mercy. He wanted to see just how far he could push this mortal, punish that soul of yours.

* Laughing to himself. *

.

.

  Human Realm

 Leon was mortified as Karno pulled him off the ground.

‘That girl, that power! Twisted bastard was right.’

…

“Where is she Karno?” Leon looked around; everything was destroyed, many individuals missing.

You and the demons, gone.

“They’ve left…”

Leon snapped his attention back to Karno “What do you mean they left; we need to find them now!”

He couldn’t allow this; on one hand, the girl was a danger to the realms. Another, dangerous forces were after that very power. He was furious with the situation and with you, furious and intrigued.

‘I’m going to teach that girl a lesson’

None of the demons were around, or that sorcerer. Little to his knowledge about Hue being there, Karno thought best not to bring it up just yet.

Before they could leave, they needed to fix this conundrum.

Leon growled inwardly ‘Great, even more pestering jobs’

“Karno, once we’re finished here, we are going to Devildom.”

.

.

 End of Part One.

Stay tuned for Part Two - Chapter 1: Shame on You.

  Now on Ao3. Like, comment, reblog - if your not following, follow my page for more updates! Thanx for reading

Mwah xxx

[litzing]

The Last Starmachine

When modern problems require ancient solutions.

Title: The Last Starmachine

Author: @litzing

Word Count: 1513

The ceiling, emblazoned with a fractal map of the universe that must have taken thousands of cycles to complete, hangs over me like a midnight sky as I cross the grand cavern to the very last Starmachine. With tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips, I gaze up at the culmination of my life’s work, a tall, mysterious cylinder covered in carved runes that looms over the cavern like a monument to the heavens. I reach out to touch the structure, but I hesitate right before my fingertips can brush the stone and withdraw my hand. There’s more to be done before I can enjoy my discovery.

“Is that it?” asks Masza in accented Common. He approaches the Starmachine, regarding it with awe. I’m fishing in my knapsack when I look up to see him about to touch the cylinder with one large, scaled hand.

“Don’t!” I blurt out, and Masza freezes with his palm mere inches from the Starmachine. “Don’t touch that. You could turn it on.”

He lowers his hand. “I thought it had a key?”

“It does. But one can never be too sure.”

I produce the key from my knapsack, wrapped in an expensive Ssarrhan fabric. Masza leans closer to see. It’s a sandy brown stone sphere about the size of my fist. Runes similar to those on the Starmachine are etched into the surface. A long, jagged rod extends from the top. Not much to look at; the antiques dealer I bought it from was using it as a paperweight.

“This is incredible! Oh, I am so excited. Imagine what we can do with the last Starmachine, Masza!” I can’t hide the way my eyes light up, nor how my speech quickens. “We can salvage civilizations! Light up skies! We can create new worlds capable of life! How amazing!”

Masza clears his throat. My smile fades when I raise my eyes to see him looking disgruntled.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Am I getting paid or what?”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” I dig deeper in my knapsack, then pass him a wad of bills. “As promised. Thank you for guiding me, Masza, I greatly appreciate your assistance.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He counts the bills. “Just hurry up. It’s hot in here, Ilamiria.”

“I apologize, but we could be here for a long time.” I’m already setting down my lantern and flipping through the tiny notebook I keep in my pocket at all times, stuffed full of important information I’ve gathered about the Starmachine. To the left is a control panel of sorts, a cluster of stone dials that correspond with cosmic coordinates, and I wander over as I’m talking to nobody in particular.

“These must be the tuning dials. I wonder if I can turn them? Surely the stone has deteriorated over time, perhaps even cracked in some places...”

All of the dials have keyholes on the left side. The key fits like a glove in the largest dial, and it turns with ease. Once I’m certain nothing terrible will happen, I start twisting the dials according to my notes.

“Ah, I see... So this is—And this small one here determines—Hmmm... Maybe this big dial... Yes!”

“Should I be listening to you?” Masza questions, ambling around the cavern, his thick tail swishing along after him. There isn’t much to look at beyond the map on the ceiling and the Starmachine.

“No, no...” I wave a hand vaguely in his direction. “Don’t mind me. But please don’t break anything.”

“Wasn’t planning on it...” he grumbles.

Referencing my notes, I arrange the dials in a very precise way. They must be correct, or I could cause catastrophic damage to the universe. If I don’t use specific coordinates...

“... I could destroy worlds,” I murmur.

“What?” Masza’s voice is close behind me. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“Ah, no, of course not. Just talking to myself,” I reply. I’m busy with the dials. So busy, in fact, that I don’t hear Masza pull out his blaster until the barrel is pressed against the back of my head. I pause, hands still on the dials just as I’ve set the right coordinates.

“Masza?”

“Y’know, Ilamiria,” he begins, and I hear him flick his blaster from stun to kill. “I think we should destroy some worlds.”

“I’m sorry?” I turn, and I find myself face to face with the business end of Masza’s blaster. “Oh! Masza, why—?”

“I have a buyer from Talroch that’s very interested in the last Starmachine. They say it’s some kind of weapon?”

“A weapon!? Of course not! Masza, Starmachines are the closest thing to gods this universe has! They create life! And we found one! This is the archaeological discovery of the millennium. You can’t possibly sell it to some warlord!”

“Money talks. I listen.” He extends his hand. “I’m gonna need you to hand over that key.”

“I’ll pay you more. My parents are wealthy aristocrats on Tikka. I can afford it. I’ll double your money!”

“It’s a lot of money, kid.” Masza beckons with one clawed finger. “The key.”

“But you don’t know how to use it!” I exclaim, desperate. “Masza, you could kill us all. You could take billions of lives. Trillions!”

“Guess I’ll need your notes, too. Hand ‘em over. I won’t ask again.”

I can see in his dark green eyes he’s not messing around. Maybe hiring a guide from a bar on Ssarrha was a bad move. I glance up at the Starmachine, my beloved, and chew my lip in thought. Is my sense of self-preservation strong enough to outweigh my morals? Turning over my research to this thug will put trillions of lives in jeopardy. Could I do that to save my own skin?

No. I found the last Starmachine. I won’t let anyone take that away from me. And I sure as hell won’t let anyone use it as a weapon.

I duck under Masza’s blaster and ram my shoulder into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbles and falls with a surprised yelp, his blaster slipping from his fingers and clattering off to the side. I dive for the blaster, but Masza catches me by the ankle and hauls me towards him. I try in vain to claw my way forward, my nails scrabbling against the stone until they split and bleed. Masza’s grip on my ankle is bruising, and he’s so much stronger than me. Gasping for breath, Masza drags me closer and flips me over so he can straddle my waist and hold me down. After a swift punch to the face that must have broken my nose, his rough hands find my throat, and he squeezes.

“Fucking brat!” he spits, glaring at me with narrowed eyes and slitted pupils, sharp teeth bared like an animal. “You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? If you really were some kinda kid genius, you’d have handed over your shit and died easy. Now you’re gonna die—“ His grip tightens on my throat. “—slow.”

I kick my feet and try to pry his hands away, but it’s futile. Thinking fast, I grab the knife sheathed on Masza’s belt and drive it into his gut as deep as I can, piercing his soft underbelly. Pale blue Ssarrhan blood bursts from the wound when I rip the knife out, and Masza shrieks in pain, releasing my neck to try to stop the bleeding with both hands. I scramble out from under him and snatch the key from where I’d left it on the panel, and without a second thought, I force the key into the ignition and twist it to the right.

The cavern rumbles. I watch in awe as a brilliant golden glow creeps through the runes carved into the Starmachine, lighting up every crevice from bottom to top. A large panel in the ceiling above the Starmachine slides open, exposing the night sky. As the glow reaches the top of the cylinder, I feel electricity in the air, a crackling static that raises my hackles and stings my eyes.

After a deafening silence, the Starmachine roars to life. It sounds like the wind howling in a hurricane. I feel myself being pulled towards the cylinder, and I grab the control panel to keep steady. Masza is not so lucky. The Starmachine reels him in from where he’s groaning in pain on the ground, and the moment he touches the white-hot cylinder, he’s lit up in flames. His agonized screams will haunt me for the rest of my life, but soon, he is nothing more than a pile of ash.

With an explosion that leaves my ears ringing, the Starmachine ejects some sort of projectile into the sky. It’s gone in a blink, breaking out of the atmosphere. Then the glow fades, the dials spin back to their default position, and all is quiet, save for the panel on the roof sliding shut.

But before it can close, I see a prick of light in the sky that was not always there.

[charlemange1]

Ask of the Lesser (Frankenstein/Lovecraft Works): 8.1 Did I Solicit Thee from Darkness to Promote Me?

There was a time before pain had settled over my life like a thick fog. A time before Victor’s creature and Mama’s death, when I barely came up to Victor’s knees and spent my days charging though the woodland and whacking apart pond reeds that I pretended were incoming invaders. I had been prancing around the lakefront all morning when Mama kindly requested I stop chasing chickens and fetch Victor from the depths of our villa. I found him in the small stone room he always played in.

“Vic-tor, Mama says that Henry’ll arrive soon. She wants you and Elizabeth to be ready for him!”

Victor nodded absently from behind his table as he stirred the liquid inside one of several bowls.

“Do you not want to play?” My head tipped to the side.

“Of course I do,” Victor said, though his shoulder’s hunched. “But Henry and Elizabeth would rather recite poetry and paint the mountains. It is good fun, but shallow! Why not discover why paint changes color or heavens’ secrets that only the mountains know?” Victor’s stirring lessened. “They do not understand. No one does.”

“Oh, I cannot stand poetry either!” I chimed. “That man Papa had speak the other night was a great snooze. I think your little bowls and vials are quite fine, though I cannot say I understand em’.”

Victor’s stirring spoon clattered to the ground. He looked at me for the first time. “Truly?”

“Uh-huh,” I said with a finger up my nose.

“You can be my assistant, then!” Victor’s hands clapped together and he shoved a wooden stepping stool beside the table so I could watch him. I scrambled up and he handed me a bronze spoon and a bowl of reddish liquid.

“Now, do not drink these chemicals, Ernest. This is dangerous alchemy!”

“What are we doing?” I breathed in excitement.

“Turning lead into gold,” Victor said in his best serious tone, though his smile broke through. “Mother would love it if we brought her a golden necklace made all by ourselves!”

“Yeah!” I chirped, and Victor’s smile widened.

“Like this, Ernest,” Victor said, churning the liquid in his own bowl. My attempt to replicate him sent the liquid splashing carelessly over the rim. Victor’s hands gently took hold of mine and guided my stirring until I had gotten the rhythm down.

“You are a natural,” Victor grinned. “It is nice having someone to play with.”

My cheeks flushed with heat, making me notice how cold the cellar was.

“It is chilly,” I remarked, glancing at the open window high above us. “Could you close that?”

“I am afraid not,” Victor explained. “These fumes are suffocating and will build up if they cannot escape.” Victor pointed to a badly rusted fire poker and a flaking steel bucket in the corner. “See how the lingering chemicals can devour the strongest material known to man? Fear not though, as long as we have sufficient air flow, no harm shall come to us.”

“You are brilliant,” my eyes widened.

Victor’s reply was cut off by Mama’s faint voice announcing Henry’s arrival. Victor immediately set down his spoon and began shutting the lids on his containers, whistling a little tune to himself. He gave me the honor of closing the last one while he strained upwards to shut the window.

“We must do this again, Ernest,” Victor said as I followed him into the hall. The rusted hinges creaked as he shut the door behind us. “Once the chemicals have the proper consistency, we may add lead and move onto the next step!” He paused and gave me a very serious look. “I must ask that you do not enter this place without me. Alchemy is a dangerous art if not handled properly.”

“Okay,” I nodded, charged with excitement at this secret project for Mama as we rushed up the stairs to the main room.

Victor met Elizabeth and Henry at the front door. Though I was too young to join them, Victor assured me that I would be old enough before I knew it! From the window, I watched the trio’s departure with a creeping loneliness. Chasing chickens did not appeal to me anymore. My legs carried me back down the twisting stairway to Victor’s little stone lab. Each bit I yanked the hefty door open the rusted hinges squeaked. Thankfully, I could squeeze inside with only a few inches of leeway. Yes, Victor had said I should not come here alone, but I was a natural at stirring, he had said so himself! How happy would Victor be to return and find himself ahead in his research! I popped the lids off the surrounding chemicals as I searched for the one I had been stirring before.

A chilly draft swept by me accompanied by a great bang. I turned to see the door had shut. Hopping off the stepping stool, I bounded over to yank it open. The rusted knob disintegrated between my fingers, turning to dust in my hand from the continuous chemical exposure.

The surrounding fumes were thick in the air, and I rushed to open the window. My fingers strained upward, but even with the stool; I was too short. Too little. The peaceful blue of Switzerland’s sky rivaled my panic as I banged my fists against the wooden door. My voice grew hoarse as I screamed for Victor to save me. I screamed and screamed but no one came. No one ever came down here but Victor. I sunk to my knees by the door. The fumes were overpowering, pumping their poison into me as my shouts faded to whimpers.

I do not know how much time passed until the door swung open and inaudible cries reached me from where I had collapsed.

“He is here! Mother, he is down here,” Victor shouted, and I felt his arms carry me into the hallway. “Ernest, say something! Little brother? Talk to us!”

“Fetch a nurse,” Elizabeth whispered. My vision flickered between black nothingness and the vibrant colors of reality. The frantic screaming around me seemed to come from someplace far, far away.

My head bobbed as new hands tore me from Victor’s grasp. I recognized Mama’s voice as she cradled me.

“His face is blue! Oh Lord, Lord do something!”

“What happened here?” Papa’s voice came somewhere close to my ear.

The blurry shapes of Victor and his friends came into view. Victor was clutching his mouth, horror struck as Elizabeth stroked his shoulder. He stepped forward.

“Father, he was locked in my lab,” Victor croaked, nearly in tears. “The chemicals…”

“What have you done?” Mama’s shriek split the air. She was always so calm and nurturing to us, Victor adored her. But seeing me unresponsive seemed to momentarily tip her off the edge. “I told you to be careful with those chemicals! You would leave your little brother alone with your supplies? How could you be so irresponsible? You killed him! You killed your baby brother!”

Victor’s face had turned deathly white. “I, I...”

“Take him upstairs, he needs fresh air,” Papa ordered. Mama clutched me to her chest, as though her life could replenish mine. My head rolled over her shoulder as she rushed up the stairs. I watched the quickly fading figures left behind as Elizabeth touched Victor’s arm.

“She is in hysterics. She knows not what she says, Victor.”

But Victor was not listening. His horrified eyes were fixed on me with such an intensity that I could feel their gaze long after we had rounded the corner.

I never completely recovered from the incident. My coordination became sloppy and my constitution for academics nonexistent. Illness struck me easier too, and planned trips across Europe were canceled in favor of a more permanent lifestyle in Belrive. Being a child, I adapted well enough, but that look never left Victor’s eyes. It lingered with each unnecessary hour he spent trying to explain the schoolwork and dance theory everyone else had forgone teaching me, or every stone he threw at those laughing faces when I could not keep up. He stayed in his room for longer periods too. Only Elizabeth and Mama could draw him outside, so much did they mean to him.

Then Elizabeth sickened, and Mama died tending to her. Shortly after the funeral, he made arrangements to depart for Ingolstadt. I caught him just as he was stepping out the door with a suitcase of carelessly packed clothing poking out the sides. His shoulders shook when I called to him.

“Must you leave so soon, Victor?”

“What use am I here?” Victor muttered. “I failed to fix Mother, just as I failed to fix you.”

“It was never up to you what Mama’s fate would be,” I pleaded. I needed him to stay! How precious ‘stay’ was. “God decides these things.”

“The god spoken of in Geneva’s pulpits is benevolent and good!” Victor whirled on me. “Whatever governs this world is insensitive. Uncaring! No God of love would let Mother slip away, not when she was doing his good work by caring for others!” Victor shook his head. “What right have I to enjoyment while she rots in the ground and you are, are,” Victor turned away. “How can any of us claim happiness when we could sicken at any moment? All I hear is ticking, a countdown until everyone I have left follows her!” Victor’s voice dropped. “Modern medicine can cure disease, surely there exists a remedy for death? Some elixir for immortality as the ancient alchemists claimed? If so, I will not find it within these walls of tortured memories, but I will find it, Ernest.”

“Let me come with you, then,” I said, leaning forward on my cane. “I can help!”

“You must remain here where it is safe.”

“But—”

“No Ernest! You are too weak,” Victors’ eyes radiated hatred. Self-hatred. “Too weak, and it is all my fault!”

My Fault.

It had been forever since that day. I had tried to repress it. To forget. If I had never messed with Victor’s chemicals, if I had not crippled myself, Victor would not have that guilt and the urge to tamper with life and perfect it. Maybe I had not whispered to him to create that creature, but I had set him on the path to inevitable destruction, and when he had come to me, begging for help, I had called him mad and drove my own creation away to die alone.

The memory repeated over and over in the pits of that cosmic creature’s unearthly yellow eyes. Then the eyes blinked, and I awoke.

[allsortsofgeekery]

What Living is For

———————————————————————

A Little Women AU

Characters: Roman Sanders (Jo March), and Patton Sanders (Beth March)

Word Count: 2,266

Setting: A beach in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, in the 1860’s

Trigger Warnings: Major character death (not written, but heavily implied/confirmed), fatal illness mention, crying, let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Author’s Note: Hi, everybody! I don’t know what possessed me to write this, because this is very sad, but I. LOVE. Little Women. I first read the book when I was in sixth grade, and I absolutely adore it, along with the musical and the movies. This oneshot is based heavily off of the musical, with some aspects of the 2019 movie and the book thrown in as well. Therefore, much of the dialogue—not all of it, but a lot—is taken directly from lines in the musical, book, and movie.

Also, I am still working on my prompts—I got a LOT, and I’m going to post them all as soon as I’m done.

I hope you enjoy, I’m really pleased with this one!

———————————————————————

There was a boy in a wheelchair by the sea.

He leaned his head back, eyes closed and a small smile playing across his face, the breeze gently rolling in off the water. His toes were curled in the sand, and he had a light blue shawl wrapped around his shoulders, one that his mother had knit for him when he was just a baby. A conch shell rested in his lap, his hands carefully placed on top of it.

And he was dying.

Roman watched him, clutching a kite with a rainbow tail close to his chest and holding a picnic basket. Patton hadn’t needed a wheelchair before he had gone to New York; yes, he was still frail and ill, but he recovered. He would again, now, Roman was sure of it, because he was Patton. He would. He would.

He slowly approached his brother, feet making indentations in the sand as he went.

“I brought you a kite,” he said softly, when he was merely a few feet away; he didn’t want to startle him. Patton opened his eyes and looked up, and suddenly he was smiling with a radiance as though somebody had lit a candle in his chest. Warmth, as usual, seemed to pour out of him and into whoever was the recipient of his gaze.

For a moment, his illness seemed to melt away, and he looked like himself, save for the gaunt face and bags under his eyes. He looked like the lovely young man he was, no older than twenty, instead of somebody whose light was already beginning to flicker out. His wide blue eyes, partially obscured by his wire-rimmed glasses, held their usual sparkle and kindness, despite the circumstances.

“Roman,” he said, his smile widening, and as soon as he spoke something tugged at Roman’s heart. His voice, steeped in kindness and love and affection, was the equivalent of receiving a warm hug upon coming home. His voice was coming home. Roman couldn’t believe he had ever left.

“I brought you a kite,” Roman repeated, grinning and brandishing it at him. “Look at the tail—it has all the colors of the rainbow! I told the man at the shop that it should have every color for my baby brother.”

“It’s the most beautiful kite I’ve ever seen!” Patton said, running his fingers over the multicolored ribbons, in vibrant reds and blues and greens, purples and yellows and oranges.

“Let’s put it together,” Roman declared, and Patton reached up his arms for Roman to help him down. He felt shaky and weak in Roman’s arms, and slumped against him once they reached the ground, a blue gingham blanket laid over the sand. Patton rested his head on Roman’s shoulder and leaned against him, huddling closer, as the sea breeze was becoming more brisk.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Patton said quietly, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves and the wind. Roman smiled and wrapped his arm tighter around him.

“You’ve always wanted to come to Cape Cod,” Roman replied. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“And more,” Patton said earnestly. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I only wish you didn’t have to give up your first earnings from your novel to bring me here.”

“Oh, stop,” Roman replied, adjusting Patton’s shawl against the wind. “Anything for my baby brother.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the seagulls and the waves, the salty breeze mussing their hair, sometimes punctuated by Patton coughing.

“Tell me about New York,” he eventually asked softly, drawing circles in the sand. Roman chuckled.

“It’s a circus,” he replied, smiling at the sea. “It’s never dull like it is back home, and there’s always new people to meet. And,” he paused, “there’s a large foyer in my publisher’s building, with the grandest and most beautiful piano you can imagine in it.” Patton’s face lit up at the statement.

“A piano?”

“Yes, and it has flowers carved into the wood, and it’s inlaid with gold—and I told my publisher, I told him: one day, my brother is going to sit here and play this piano, and it’ll be the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard, and everyone in New York will want to come and hear it.”

“I’d love to,” Patton smiled, resting his cheek on Roman’s shoulder.

“I’m going to take you there, one day,” Roman informed him, and Patton’s breath seemed to hitch, just for a split second, before returning to normal.

“I have something for you,” Patton told him abruptly, changing the subject and reaching behind him for the conch shell that was still resting on his wheelchair. “Here,” he said, handing it to Roman. “If you hold it up to your ear, it speaks to you!”

Obligingly, Roman held it up to his ear gently, afraid he might break it. The sound of waves and wind whistled in his ear, trapped inside the shell. “What does it say?”

A pause. Then:

“We grow up so fast,” Patton whispered, almost inaudibly over the roar of the tide. Roman looked at him for a moment—it shattered his heart to see his brother so melancholic due to his scarlet fever. He knew he’d get better—believed it like a child believes in bedtime stories and fairytales, believed it so fervently because he had to—but he’d do anything to raise his spirits.

A moment of silence passed over them, as fluffy clouds raced across the sky.

“When you were first born,” Roman began, smiling fondly at the memory, “not even an hour old, I told Mother—“

“Patton is mine!” Patton finished for him, giggling. Roman smiled at the fond memory of a headstrong, bossy young boy first holding his newborn brother. Patton’s big blue eyes had fluttered open for the first time, and he cooed and smiled up at Roman. It was that instant that Roman had declared that Patton was his, his person that would become his closest companion.

“Everybody has someone special in the world,” Roman continued, tugging the knit shawl tighter around Patton. “And I have you. My sweet Patton. Give me a task to do.”

Patton thought for a moment, staring out at the ocean, the sea spray blowing in his rosy-cheeked face and tousling his hair.

“Can you read me a story?” he asked, looking up at Roman hopefully, with those big blue eyes of his. “Like you always did when we were little?”

“Of course, Patty,” Roman smiled, turning to dig around in the picnic basket he had brought. “Lucky for you, I brought a whole selection, as I thought you might ask—which one?” He spread out the books on the blanket, and Patton peered at them all, making a goofy show of examining each one and either wrinkling his nose or nodding to himself, weighing his options. At last, they settled on a tome with “pirates” in the name—and off they went, windswept into an epic tale about lost lovers, far away from each other at sea, and treasure and violence and intrigue.

And then, once that was finished, they moved to another. And another. And another?

“What did you think of that one, Patty?” Roman asked, closing the latest book—a story of lost love and family—and Patton smiled faintly and leaned his head on his shoulder, looking out at the setting sun over the glimmering ocean.

“They’re all wonderful,” he said, thinking. “But I think I like it better when you write them yourself. You’re a regular Shakespeare!”

“Oh, Patty, you know that I’ve given up on that, now!” Roman said, his heart squeezing. Patton adamantly shook his head.

“No,” he said, a joking smile playing on his face. “I am very sick, and you must do what I say.” Roman barked a laugh, and Patton giggled.

“Please?”

“Alright, alright, anything for little Mr. March,” Roman teased lightly, and Patton playfully stuck his tongue out at him. “What would you like to hear?”

Patton pondered this for a moment, his gaze finally settling on the beautiful, multicolored kite that Roman had gotten him. “Tell me a story about us,” he began. “Flying through the air, as if we’re on a kite.”

Roman smiled warmly at his younger brother’s earnestness. “Very well.” He cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there was a bold, brave, handsome, chivalrous—“ Patton poked him, smiling. “Almost done—and all around golden boy named Roman March. And by his side, his baby brother Patton March, who, although Roman was great in all aspects, was his better half: sweet, kind, gentle, loving, and talented.” Patton beamed, and his smile seemed to light up the gathering dusk.

“They did everything together—and, one day, when Patton’s brother brought him a kite, they went to go fly it, and they were swept up into the air along with it, floating like birds!”

And so, they embarked on yet another great adventure—their fourth of the day—Roman’s words bringing them up, high, high, high above the sand. His inflections swooped and dipped, as if his voice itself were flying. He described their astounding journey, how they will be mad and explore high above the rest of the world. Away from everyone and everything, in the sky. Away from Patton’s illness, away from his weakened heart. No, in the heavens there are no illnesses, only the birds who dared to fly as high as them, and the clouds.

“We will pass the days doing only as we please,” Roman said, bringing them back down to Earth by the end of the tale, back down to the blue gingham blanket and the glittering waves crashing against the sand and the seashells that Patton had taken a fancy to, all in a pile, and the reality of their situation. “For that,” he finished, “is what living is for.”

They were both silent for a long time, staring out at the darkened ocean and the sky full of stars above them. Roman could feel Patton shivering against him, and he adjusted his shawl again. At last, Patton spoke.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He said, so softly that he was almost drowned out by the crashing waves.

“Anything.”

“I never made plans,” he began, “about what I would do when I grew up. I never had to.”

“No,” Roman corrected him. “When we were children, I was to be a famous writer, and you a famous pianist, and we would travel together, remember?” Patton laughed lightly and shook his head.

“That was when we were children...and I think you know as well as I do that I am not meant for a life onstage, in front of thousands of people. I never made plans, because I always knew that when I grew up, I would still be with Mother and Father, and I wanted to take care of them.”

“Of course,” Roman smiled. “You’re practically an angel.” Patton smiled, but it faltered again.

“Roman?”

“Yes, Patty?”

“I’m not afraid to die.” Those five words caused Roman’s heart to squeeze mightily, for him to close his eyes tightly and banish all thoughts of the unspeakable happening away.

“Don’t—please don’t say that, Patty,” Roman got out.

“Roman...I know that it will happen. And I’m not. Really. The hardest part, Roman...it’s leaving you. For I will be homesick for you, even in death.” Roman barely choked back a sob. He grabbed Patton’s hand and held it tightly.

“I won’t let it happen. Do you hear me, Patton? I won’t.” Patton only smiled at him, softly, sadly.

“Some things are meant to be. And I know this is bound to happen, no matter what I do…” Roman choked on his tears. Patton shakily shifted and took Roman’s face in his hands. “But. Some things will never die...like the promise of who you are. Roman, you’re so talented! You can never stop writing, because I know that you’re going to be great. And I’m—I’m so proud of you! And—the memories will never die, either. Even when I’m far, far away from here, you’ll carry me in your heart, and you in mine.”

With his thumb, Patton brushed away the tears trailing down Roman’s cheek.

“All my life,” Patton said, looking at him earnestly with those big blue eyes, “I’ve lived for loving you. Let me go now.”

And Roman wrapped him up in a hug and cried into his shoulder, and Patton hugged him back, frail and shaky, but also loving and warm and brave and remarkably resilient. And the wind swept up into the star-speckled sky, going high, high, high up, higher than them or the Earth.

~

Roman stood in a publishing company, looking through the window at his first novel being printed and bound and brought into the world. It was an autobiographical memoir, of sorts, while still remaining readable to audiences who enjoy fiction.

It is the story of him and his brothers.

Their entire lives, from when Roman was a wild boy of sixteen, to now, as he is standing here, in this old, creaky, wooden hallway, watching his future as an author come into the world.

At last, one of the workers handed him his finished novel, with a lovely red leather cover and the title written in big lettering on the front with gold leaf. And he hugged the book close to his chest. This was his story. This was his book. This was his dream, coming to realization before his very eyes.

He opened the book.

On the very first page was the dedication.

To Patton.

[amuseoffyre]

Crossing Paths - Dunbar & Samarkand

Okay. I am a nerd. I am also firmly of the opinion that Crowley is a nerd who gets excited about humans being spiffy. Also, about space because he helped build it and loves when humans love it.

1437 – Dunbar

 Of all the places to meet, the new Royal court was a useful one. There were so many people milling around, so many layers upon layers of spies, that no one was ever going to notice a couple of people standing near the cobbled roadside, watching the informal procession of the new child-king to the castle.

“You know I hate to be a bother…”

Crowley waved away Aziraphale’s words. “You know the deal, angel. What’s up?”

The angel’s face twisted in the familiar mess of anxiety, guilt and puzzlement. Centuries of the Arrangement now, and still, he acted like it was a moral conundrum every time. “Ah… I have a particular place…”

“Mm?” Crowley scratched at his nose.

“And it’s nothing… unpleasant like Rouen…” The angel twisted his hands in front of him. “Only, the last time I was there, I ran into the fellow’s grandfather and...” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “I’d rather not see if his grandson is anything like him.”

That made Crowley look at him, curious. Aziraphale had a habit of wandering into situations that were dangerous without even realising, but it was rare for him to try to avoid anyone. Or the descendant of anyone. “Who’s that, then? The grandfather?”

Aziraphale’s features twitched. “Timur.”

“Ohhhhhh…” Crowley winced in sympathy. “Yeah. I remember him. Grumpy chap. Gammy leg. He’s the one who made his men stampede their horses over–”

“The children, yes.”

“And what he did in Baghdad with the walls–”

“Mm.”

“And those pyramids of–”

“Skulls.” Aziraphale looked surprisingly pale for an ethereal being. “Mm hm.”

Crowley had briefly passed through the empire from time to time. He didn’t need to do much. It was hard to tempt people to do evil when said people had a very enthusiastic boss who would wipe out a whole city just to make his point and then make pyramid-shaped art installations of the severed heads just in case anyone missed the memo.

Still, it was a nice black mark against Crowley’s records when he technically sort of maybe kind of implied to Head Office that his presence in the empire was instrumental to the bloodshed.

“And you’re meant to be dealing with his grandson?”

“And heir.” Aziraphale nodded stiffly. “I’m sure he isn’t as bad, but I’d… I’d rather not check.”

Crowley wasn’t surprised. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, stepping back – and only a little bit deliberately – onto some daft peasant’s toes. The swearing was like music to his ears. “You go and harangue the Douglases and I’ll consider us even.”

“The Douglases?” The angel’s eyes flicked back to the castle. “Oh, Crowley. Not more discord in Scotland.”

The demon shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” he said, grinning as he spun away to let the crowd swallow him. “They’re the ones who like a fight.”

 _________________________________

 1437 – Samarkand

 It was safe to say, Crowley thought, that Timur’s grandson was nothing like him.

Aziraphale was going to pitch a fit when he found out that he’d put himself onto temptation duty instead of coming to meet a fellow swot. They would get on like a house on fire as well, all art and literature and poetry and everything that made Aziraphale go daft and soft.

And if Crowley was to be completely honest with himself, he was a bit impressed.

It wasn’t often that he got a chance to wander about an observatory. The kind of scientists that were prone to temptation weren’t the ones who looked at the heavens.

The building was massive, three levels above ground, every inch of the exterior decorated in enamel and tile. It was a glittering blue gem sitting on top of a hillside, visible for miles around. The inside was as impressive, with more levels below the ground, a huge sextant curving up from the lowest level to the upper ones with steps lining either side, the biggest quadrant Crowley had ever seen, shelves everywhere, metal tools and devices and things Crowley couldn’t identify but that went ding when he tapped them.

And there, the man himself was taking measurements and writing notes, his bamboo pen scratching rapidly across already crowded sheets of pulped paper. He didn’t look like much. Middle-aged, angular face, dark, almond-shaped eyes, but Crowley recognised the expression on his face as he worked. He’d seen it on the angel’s face a thousand times.

Especially, that annoyed frown that was furrowing his brow.

“Problem?” he inquired, peering down at the paper in Ulugh Beg’s hand. Nah. Not Ulugh Beg. This wasn’t the great ruler. This was the scientist and the man. Mirza Muhammed Taraghay.

The man blinked as if he hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t alone. For a split-second, a puzzled look ghosted over his face, as if he couldn’t quite place Crowley then he bowed his head in greeting. “The model is incorrect.”

“The model?”

Mirza waved one hand towards a low table, scattered with notes and drawings. A book – a translation of one Crowley remember well from the good old days – was lying open: Ptolemy’s observations and mapping of the heavens.

“He was the master of his craft,” Mirza sighed, frowning and writing another note, “and yet we find that things are not as fixed as he stated.”

Crowley crouched down by the table, his robes spreading around him, and propped one arm on the surface. It only took him a few seconds to see what they were doing, as if he couldn’t guess from the huge sextant and all the other gadgets the man had lying around.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing up at the man. “And?”

Mirza looked at him, puzzled. “What is your meaning?”

Crowley shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Times change, don’t they?” He pulled another book closer, flipping it closed to look at the cover. This one was al-Sufi’s Book of Fixed Stars. Credit to the man, Ulugh Beg was thorough in his research. “I mean, Ptolemy and al-Sufi weren’t wrong, but think about it. How long ago were they looking at the sky? Centuries back? Millennia? This city wasn’t even here then. Little village in the middle of nowhere and now look at it. You think the heavens are any different?” He shook his head, dropping it back on the table. “Harder to see it because it’s so far away, but times change everywhere, not just on earth.”

Mirza stared at him. “The stars have advanced from the points at which they observed them…”

Crowley nodded. “S’bound to happen,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet. “Everything’s kind of… mutable, isn’t it? Changes depending on where and when you look at it. It’d be a bit arrogant to think that everything stays fixed just because some human in Egypt or Persia said so.”

“Yes!” Mirza’s face broke into a brilliant smile. He shook his head, laughing, as if he couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. “So simple!” He hastily scratched some more notes down on his papers. “Thank you, my friend. Fresh eyes grant clearer sight.”

Crowley shrugged with a crooked smile. “You’d already figured it out,” he said. “You just hadn’t realised it yet. Just needed a bit of perspective.”

The man nodded. “It is often so,” he agreed happily. “Come, I will show you the model.”

Well, okay maybe it wasn’t work, but how was he meant to resist when a human wanted to show him how well they were doing? And it was about the stars as well. He’d always had a bit of a soft spot for those.

And anyway, maybe if he hung around a bit longer, he could work out some way to give Mirza the blessing or whatever the Hell he was meant to be sending him from Aziraphale.

 _____________________________

 1442 – Zurich

 “Psst!”

Crowley looked around.

In the dark, it was hard to see who had made the sound Puzzled humans looked back at him until he spotted someone who definitely wasn’t wearing the uniform of the Swiss Confederacy waving urgently between some tents. Said person was wearing a long cloak which didn’t in any way hide the round belly and the Habsburg uniform.

“Ang–” he began, then took stock. The daft angel had come into the enemy’s camp in his own side’s uniform. Drawing even more attention to him was a bad idea. He grinned at the soldiers on either side of him. “Scuse me. Call of nature.”

He hurried over between the tents, hoping over guidelines and ducking under ropes. “What the Heaven are you playing at?” he demanded as soon as he was close enough.

Aziraphale beamed at him. He had a small glowing ball of light cupped in his hand. “I wanted to say thank you.”

“Er… okay.” Crowley frowned. “For what?”

“Ulugh Beg!”

A memory surfaced of Samarkand. Five years ago. When he was meant to be there, doing the angel’s job for him. What had he done…

Oh. Shit.

He hadn’t done anything. They’d ended up arguing about constellations for six hours instead. It was a pretty good night all things considered. Apart from the fact he had apparently forgotten to do the thing he’d been there for in the first place.

“Er…” he began. There were yells from the other side of the camp and Crowley hastily snapped his fingers, hiding them from sight, just in case. “Refresh my memory?”

Aziraphale gave him a fondly exasperated look and dug about under his cloak, then produced a book with a flourish. “Look!”

Crowley gingerly took the book as if it might explode. The script on the front was in Persian. “Zij-i Sultani?”

Aziraphale tapped a scrap of fabric sticking out from between the early pages. “I found it in a library when I was in Baghdad and had to show you,” he said eagerly. “Look!”

Crowley leafed through the pages, blinking. The author was none other than Mirza – Ulugh Beg – himself. It was an astronomical study, charting the stars and their courses and so much more. He flicked to the page that Aziraphale had marked.

“There!” Aziraphale pointed.

Crowley tilted the book, squinting by Aziraphale’s light and read the paragraph he was pointing to.

“This motivated us to observe them ourselves, with the assistance of Divine Providence, and we have found that they were advanced from the epoch…” he trailed off, remembering the start of their conversation. “Oh no.”

“Divine providence!” Aziraphale looked like a doting parent. “You did a marvellous job!”

“But divine providence?” Crowley screwed up his face. “No, no, no. Eurgh. I’m not divine.” He shuddered. “Yuck. Makes me feel all dirty.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks were dimpled and his eyes were dancing. “Well, he certainly thought you were.”

“He’s a bloody idiot,” Crowley grumbled, leafing through the book, every word of it belying his description of the author. One side of his mouth crooked up. “Can I borrow this?”

The angel blinked at him in surprise. “Why– of course you can!”

Crowley ran his thumb along the edge of the page. Mirza wasn’t bad as humans went and they’d had a lot of fun that night. It’d be interesting to see if any of their… heated discussion had made it onto the pages.

Somewhere in the distance, a cannon fired.

“Oh dear…” Aziraphale murmured.

“Eh.” Crowley waved a hand, sitting down on a stool beside the tent, eyes on the book. “Let them get on with it.”

“Crowley!”

Crowley didn’t even notice if the angel stayed or left, lost in the book.

[Note: I’m well aware I’m being random and obscure. I’mma teach you a history, gdi! Even if I have to make it in fic form :D]

[emmabodt]

Mission Success: Chapter 14

Eren lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in boredom. Reiner and Bertholdt had left about three hours ago to go see their families, leaving him basically alone in this new place. In that amount of time, he had tried to talk to Ymir and Krista, the only other people he knew, but the freckled girl had pretty much just hissed at him and shut the door in his face. He had also attempted to converse with Pieck and the bronze haired asshole that had broken Reiner's nose, but the he was...well, an asshole.

A knock sounded on the door, causing Eren to groan." Fair warning, I'm not in the greatest mood right now."

The door opened to reveal a familiar pair of green eyes." Hello, Eren."

Eren propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at his half brother better." Did you come here for a reason?"

"I did."

"...Was it to show off your new haircut?"

Zeke chuckled." No. I thought that with Reiner and Bertholdt gone, you might be a little bored."

Eren flopped back on the bed." More than a little."

"Good; then will you join me for the afternoon?"

Eren blinked and sat up all the way."... What exactly will we be doing?"

Zeke scratched at his ear mindlessly." Oh, a little catch, maybe some coffee, or some drinks if you prefer that."

"What's catch?"

The blonde man stared at him in disbelief." You don't know what catch is?"Eren shook his head.

"Then you have to come with me and play. Life isn't the same without catch."

Eren stared at him for a minute before shrugging." It beats doing nothing," he said as he stood up. Zeke gave him a smile as the boy pulled on the red armband.

"Alright, follow me; we have to get mitts first," he said, turning around and leading his brother out into the hall.

"What are mitts?" Eren asked, catching up and walking side by side with Zeke.

"Mitts are like big, leather gloves that you wear on one hand that you catch a baseball with."

"What's a baseball?..."

Zeke smiled again as he began to explain." A baseball is a certain type of ball used in a game called baseball. In the game, you have a two teams that take turns playing certain roles; someone is a batter, someone is the pitcher, and the others are catchers and outfielders..."

As he explained the game to Eren, Zeke went to his own room and grabbed two worn leather mitts before leading Eren outside to the training field. By the time they got there, the blonde man had finished explaining the game and was giving Eren tips on how to catch, aim, and throw like a pro.

"You ready?" Zeke asked eagerly, handing Eren a mitt. The boy took it and shrugged.

"I think I got the basics. Which hand do I put this on?"

"The one you write with." Zeke began backing away, creating some distance between them while he produced an old, dingy white ball the size of a fist." Ready?"

Eren nodded, shuffling his feet into a comfortable position. Zeke also shifted a little, pivoting and bringing one leg off the ground. A split second later, Zeke brought his arm back and launched the ball at Eren,who instinctively sidestepped as the ball flew past him, missing him only by a few inches.

"What the hell?!"

"I was testing you. It seems that when something comes at you at a high speed, you avoid it. Interesting..." Zeke mused. Eren picked up the ball and threw it at his brother.

"Well, on ODM gear, you have to, or else you either get smashed, shot, eaten, or all three."

"ODM gear?" Zeke asked curiously, winding up for another pitch. Eren glowered at him.

"Another throw like that last one and I'm going back inside."

Zeke threw the ball, letting it gracefully fly through the air before Eren caught it.

"ODM gear was what Reiner and Bertholdt were wearing when we arrived that day," Eren explained as he threw the ball back. Zeke was happy to note that his brother had a good arm.

"Oh, really? How does it work?" He threw the ball.

Eren caught it." Belts for weight distribution and balance, gas and cables for moving, and blades for killing." He threw it back to Zeke, who caught it with ease.

"Hmm... I'm guessing it was a weapon for killing Titans?"

The ball was thrown, and caught.

"Yeah. All soldiers had to learn to use it, but the only regiment that needs it are the Scouts."

The ball continued to fly between them as their conversation went on.

"Scouts?"

"The people who go outside the Walls to fight for humanity. Like me."

"What are the other regiments?"

"The Garrison and the Military Police. The Garrison isn't bad, but the M.P.s are just... I don't know, below standards for human intelligence and moral."

Zeke chuckled as he caught the ball." I see..."

Eren sighed, watching as the ball came back his way." Yeah...I wanted to join the Scouts ever since I was little, before Reiner and Bertholdt broke down the Wall..."

Zeke watched as Eren's face molded into pain and anger. When he caught the ball, he lowered his hand.

"...When they broke down Maria-"

"The place they smashed open was my hometown," Eren said, gritting his teeth and curling his free hand into a fist." When Bertholdt kicked in the Wall, a chunk of it fell on my house... It crushed it on top of my Mom. She was trapped under a heavy beam... I couldn't lift it...even if I could, her legs were crushed. She wouldn't have been able to run away..." Eren's voice cracked, and he looked up to the sky.

Zeke watched him for a moment before stuffing the ball in his pocket and taking the mitt off his hand. He put it under his arm as he closed the distance between him and Eren. When he reached him, Zeke put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"When I found out who they were... I wanted to kill them. Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie... I thought they took everything from me, and it hurt. Reiner and Bertholdt especially. They were like the big brothers of the Cadet Corps; hell, I looked up to Reiner as a big brother! And now... I still don't know everything, but I know every person here, that's like us... They've had shit lives...so now... I don't want to kill them... I just...want to know how I can fix our lives so no one like us has to suffer like this..."

Eren felt lighter as he poured out his heart to Zeke; he had been carrying that heavy load ever since he'd set foot on the boat. Zeke nodded, understanding what Eren meant.

"I know how you feel, Eren... You want to free Eldians from suffering. So did I; that's why I became the Beast Titan."

Eren shifted his gaze to the ground, staring at the dirt below his shoes. Zeke let him stew in a moment of silence.

"I'm also guessing that you miss your old friends? The ones back on the island."

Eren lifted his head and smiled a little." Yeah, I do miss them. They were a great bunch." Eren looked happy for a moment before confusion furrowed his brow.

"When I brought it up to Bertholdt and Reiner earlier, they started acting weird... Reiner was about to talk about them, but Bertholdt made him stop... It doesn't make sense."

Zeke shook Eren by the shoulder a little.

"Don't stress over it. It's just that they would get in trouble for talking positively about the people on the island, not because they don't want to talk about it."

"Oh..." A loud rumble cut through the air, causing Zeke to crack a smile.

"Well... I say that we stop practice and go get something to eat," said Zeke, watching Eren pull off his mitt.

"Yeah... I am pretty hungry..."

"Do want to eat in Liberio?"

Eren blinked." Liberio?"

"Yes, Liberio. It is the hometown of us Eldians. Want to see it?"

Eren looked thoughtfully at his feet before shrugging." Sure, why not?"

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

Eren couldn't believe it. It just had to be too good to be true. There was no way that there could be something this incredibly amazing.

"I take it you've never had ice cream before, have you?" Zeke was watching him with an amused expression on his face. Eren barely looked up from his bowl of heaven.

"...No...how...how is this...so good?!"

Zeke leaned back in his chair with a light grin on his lips.

"Ok, you like clam chowder, garlic bread, strawberry cupcakes, and vanilla ice cream. Noted."

Eren went back to inhaling the treat in front of him, ignoring everything around him. The soft, cold, creamy sweetness in his mouth had taken over him completely. When he finished, he just about burst into tears. He would've given his Titan powers to have more.

"Alright, Eren, I've taken you to lunch, given you a tour of our little town, and got you ice cream. It's time to head back to H.Q." Zeke stood up, pushing his chair back. Eren glanced longingly at the empty bowl in fron of him before reluctantly standing up.

"Okay..."

As they exited what Zeke called a "creamery", Eren reflected on the past few hours he'd spent with his brother. Zeke had lead them to a wall topped with barbed wire coils on top, where they met two guys with weird names-Meriadoc and Peregrine. They seemed pretty well aquatinted with one another, and several minutes passed as they exchanged small talk about the "surprise the big boy gets when he arrives home" before Zeke showed them a tiny book with his picture in it. Then the two of them walked through the wall into Liberio, where Eren gawked in shock.

If the buildings in Marley were average homes, then the buildings in Liberio were the lowest of the low. Everywhere Eren looked, he saw grey brick. Homes, shops, wells, roads, fountains- everything was the same drab grey. Zeke must've picked up on his growing confusion because he then explained that Liberio was often referred to as the ghetto, where everything was below standards in almost every conceivable way. Except for the food.

Zeke had taken Eren to a small corner "cafe" for lunch, where he had ordered the establishment's specialty, which was clam chowder that came with fresh, buttery garlic bread. When he had received his, Eren had sniffed it before taking a cautious bite. Then his eyes went wide as the flavors danced across his tongue. Needless to say, Eren had finished a long time before Zeke did.

After their little lunch stop, Zeke had taken it upon himself to give his little brother a thorough tour of Liberio. He had taken Eren to the market square to show him all the stalls and vendors with their unique goods first, introducing Eren to various shopkeepers. One cheeky woman(a baker, where Eren had quickly devoured a strawberry cupcake)had giggled as Zeke aquatinted them.

"My, you look a little bit like a girl who lives nearby. Her name is Gabi, and boy, you both have a ferocious look in your eyes. Seems right for her to be, seeing how her cousin had the honor of being the Armored Titan."

After they had left that stall, Zeke had declared that they had to go soon, but that they could do one more thing. That's when he had dragged Eren into the creamery, and where Eren had fallen in love with the flavor of vanilla. As far as Eren was concerned, it had been a great day. And as for his brother...

"You know what? You're not as bad as I thought you would be," Eren said, slipping his hands in his pockets and turning his face up to the setting sun. Zeke quirked a brow at him and slipped his own hands in his pockets.

"Oh, really? How bad did you think I was?"

Eren shrugged." It doesn't matter anymore. Let's just say I'm going to like having you as my brother."

Zeke smiled." Is that so? Well, then, looks like you finally warmed up to me."

A comfortable, easygoing silence fell between the two brothers as they continued to headquarters, both feeling a little closer to the other.

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

Word Count: 2070  

Yeager brothers! I hope this satisfies you all! Up next will be our dear Ymir and fair Krista, having a little day together. Hmm... I'll need to get creative for those two... Blanket forts, anyone?

Enjoy!

[thesunflowerinyoureyes]

Memories Chapter 1 - Tommy Shelby

A/N: Well I do hope that you will enjoy this series. I hope I can update a lot and hope it’ll get a lot of love. This chapter will be briefly set in the modern era and will change into Tommy’s era. And if I’m inconsistent with the updates, then my kindest apologies. 

Warning: Contains curse words 

Ship: Thomas+Reader

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!” called your friend Martin while he left the Law firm, calling it a day. You gave him a small smile and a wave, ready to drown into more work to get rid of the present thoughts that were swimming through your brain. You stared outside of the window and looked at the pitch, black sky - the moon being the only light that seemed comforting at the time. You stared at the luminous light, your mind becoming clouded with the thoughts you had pushed back for the day. Is life really worth living without him? Would it make a difference if I disappeared from the surface of the Earth and never came back? Then would the lump in my throat and the weight on my chest dissolved? If- You shook your head vigorously, being afraid of your own thoughts - your own capability. Of course, life is worth living without him. You still have your family, friends, your life is still fortunate than some people in this world. But as you tried to think of positive thoughts and aspects of your life, the gloominess of your thoughts still didn't disappear. As you finished up for the night and had walked outside of the building, not only did your spirits feel high but you also had this feeling in your gut. A feeling that something is going to happen, and it doesn’t feel right. You looked up at the people walking past you, looks of content and happiness plastered on their faces. You couldn’t but think that you were the only person that was unhappy with everything with their life. You jogged your memory as you thought about how it all happened.

“But I don't want you to leaveeee” You said as you clung onto your husband’s arm. He gave you a big smile as he kissed your forehead and wriggled put of your grasp, earning a pout form you.

“You know I always come home straight to you honey. So why are you acting clingy today?” Your husband questioned you in a teasing manner which you gave a shy smile to. You knew he always came back. But ever since you woke up in the morning, you had a bad feeling rising in your gut and stomach, as if something awful was going to take place. 

“Don’t worry too much and enjoy your day off hm?” He said in his soft, smooth voice as he headed for the door. You couldn’t but run up and give him a back hug, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I love you” Was all you said as he opened the door, ready to leave for work. 

“I love you too (Y/N)” was his response as you let go and watched him work out the door, and later on, out of your life. 

You checked the clock and it was 5:30pm. He should home by now. Like an instinct, you saw his name on your phone - calling you. You smiled to yourself and picked up the call, ready to hear his voice. But instead it was someone else.

“Is this (Y/N) Cole?” asked the person. You swallowed the lump in your throat and let out a shallow “Yes speaking”

“We’re very sorry to say that your husband Dylan Cole has passed away tragically in a car accident. We tried saving him....” You slowly moved the phone away from your ear, the person’s voice being drowned out by the blankness of your mind. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breath quickened, your hands practically shaking like you were having a seizure. You let out a dry laugh, but reality slapped you in the face again. He was never coming back.

You stopped at the zebra crossing, your face feeling cold by the crisp, night air of January. You let out a big sigh as you waited to cross the road. You were looking at the people standing next to you and smiled at the toddler. He gave you a happy smile back, making your mood lift for the first time in a long while. You carried on looking at the child until you heard a shout from behind you.

“Oh my god Joe!” Was all you heard, and you snapped your head at the woman who had a frantic look on her face towards the road. You snapped your head back towards the road as well and you saw it. A kid about age 9 or 10 had run onto to the road, running to get his ball back. The same feeling came back like a nostalgic feeling. You can’t let another one die with you knowing, (Y/N. Do it. Save him. You ran onto the road as well and like a bolt you had already picked up the child. But you didn’t see it coming. In a split second your body had felt a rather strong thing hit your body, as you felt yourself fly in the air and then land harshly onto the ground. You couldn’t even let out a scream as the world had started to spin, your head feeling light and an excruciating pain overwhelming your body, as if someone had stabbed you all over your body. You felt the oxygen leave your body, your once rapid breathing becoming slower and slower. The loud sound of an ambulance was the last thing your brain could process, as your eyelids felt heavier - droopier. You finally let yourself close your eyes, allowing the darkness to consume you. You saw your life flash right before your vision. From the minute you were playing cricket with your brother from the minute your parents buying you your journal for your 13th Birthday. You saw your first kissed from the day you had finally graduated Uni with a Law Degree, seeing your parents smiling proudly at you. From the day you saw your best friend die right in front of your eyes, from the day you had married the love of your life. From the day of your husband’s funeral up until this moment. Everything in your life added up to this moment in time. It was fix. You saw the last vision of the boy running to get his ball until all you saw was darkness and your mind had turned off...

“I swear to god Tommy I watched her hand move man!” Huh? Where the fuck am I? Your eyes felt like they had been shut forever, as your groggily opened your eyes and saw a blaring light. Is this heaven? It doesn’t look like hell. You closed your eyes again while scrunching your nose as well attempting to-

“Dear Lord, she’s awake Tommy! (Y/N)?” Said unfamiliar voice. This time you opened your eyes and your vison became clear. A woman who looked like she was in her mid-forties stared at your face, worry written all over it. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” You asked in a hoarse voice, watching the lady’s face crumple right in front of you.

“You mean you don’t know who I am?” This time you managed to realise she had a rather strong Birmingham accent - something that you didn’t possess. 

“No, I don’t, accept from the fact that you have an accent far from where I come from.” Ouch. That sounded a bit better in my head. You looked away from the lady and looked at the man. He had piercing blue eyes, with a striking jaw line alongside high cheek bones. He’s handsome but who the hell is he? You looked away from his glaring stare and instead took in your surroundings. The walls were eerily white and had rows of beds next to each other. Hospitals don’t look like this anymore. That’s when it hit you. You looked back at the man who was now smoking a cigarette. You eyed him up and down and then it hit you. He was wearing...Edwardian style. Almost. His grey cap was something you had only seen once in your life and that was when your brother had a play on Oliver Twist. You sat straight up in bed but immediately regretting it. A jolt of pain swarm right through your body as you let out a small whimper. 

“Don’t do that, (Y/N), darling you had a nasty accident” The unfamiliar lady spoke as she pushed your shoulder lightly, pushing you back onto the bed. Accident? Oh, shit I did have an accident. There was a little boy who had made a run for his ball...and then I think I got hit by a car? Bus? I don’t fucking know.

“That boy...Is he alright?” You spoke your own thoughts watching the lady tear up slightly. And why the hell does she look like that she’s going to cry me a river?

“Finn’s doing fine (Y/N) because of you.” Finally, the blue-eyed man spoke up, throwing his finished cigarette to the floor.

“Oh okay. When is my family coming to visit me?” You asked looking up at the man only to see him wearing the most confused face ever. 

“Your family died a long time ago (Y/N). Do you seriously not remember anything?” What? No, they’re not. They’re probably more alive than I’ll ever be. How long is this dream going to last for? Is this even a dream?

“What’s the date today?” Was all you managed out, mentally pulling yourself away from your thoughts. 

“March 20th,1919. It’s your birthday in 3 days.” What in the actual fuck? He can’t be serious. This has got to be some stupid joke Martin’s playing on you.

“Is this some joke? Who put you up to this?” You asked in disgust, not in the mood for jokes. His face wore no look and he silently walked away, out of the door. 1919 my arse bruv. 

“They said we could take you home today (Y/N). You just need to get bed rest at home” Said the woman in a happy voice, quickly grabbing your hand as if you were going to disappear from her. 

“But I don’t live in Brum. I live in South England. How did I end up here?”  You spoke to her in a nicer tone this time, wrapping your fingers around her hand gently.

“Yeah you did live in the Southern part of England. But when you 23 you came up North to Birmingham to start a new life.” Well bloody hell. She looks serious as hell. So you get knocked up by a car and now you’re living in the 20th century. Well done (Y/N)

“Who was that blue-eyed man?” You questioned her curiously, your mind wandering back to the strange, attractive man.

“Oh, (Y/N) you probably don’t know who I am as well then. I’m Polly, Tommy’s aunt. That blue-eyed man is Thomas and he’s your...well” She trailed off looking at the hands wrapped together.

“He’s what?” You asked her bluntly and she gave you an unsure look. 

“He’s-” 

“(Y/N) so glad to see you’ve woken up” said a man who wore a long white robe, a stethoscope hanging around his neck. The blue-eyed man name Tommy walked right behind him, making intense eye contact with you. You felt a shiver run down your spine and broke off the eye contact, maintaining your focus on the Doctor.

“Why are you saying my name so casually?” You earned a snicker from Tommy but when you looked up at him, his smirk dropped - his stone cold face returning upon his features once again.

“It’s because  you’re my colleague honey. Now open your mouth.” You did as you were told while he put a thermometer in your mouth. Then he checked your heart beat if it was beating normally. 

“Well (Y/N) you seem to be fine. You just seem to be suffering from amnesia that’s all. I’ll discharge you today Hun” He concluded while writing down his notes.

“Is it long term or short term?” I asked, anxiety bubbling. Please say it’s none and it’s all just a dream

“I’m not sure. You might have to come back and take a lot of medicine” He said giving you a smile, which you returned. He walked out of the room and you were left with Tommy and Polly once again.

“Come on (Y/N) I’ll bring you your clothes so you can get changed into them.” Polly said kindly as she gave this look to Thomas, which you couldn’t distinguish the meaning of. You watched her disappear out the room and you felt an uncomfortable silence over take the both of you. If he keeps on looking at me in a weird way, then why the hell is he here? 

“Do you hate me?” You enquired, out of the blue, as you looked at his face. He only gave you a shake of the head as he pulled out a cigarette pack. He offered you one which you replied “Sorry I don’t smoke.” You watched him scoff and put the cigarette in his mouth. 

“You get hit by a car once and now you don’t smoke? I think tomorrow the grass will be blue.” He said, in a way which he found amusing.

“I’m sorry but what’s our relationship together? Are we related, like cousins?” You asked and this time you saw his stone cold face smile. Well, at least you made him smile. 

“Is that the best you can come up with? Fucking cousins?” 

You looked at with wide eyes, taking aback with his comment. Calm down mate it’s not actually real.

“Do you actually want to know what our relationship is?” He questioned raising his eyebrow at you. You nodded your head vigorously like a little child, earning another smirk from him. He took one last puff from the cigarette and put it out. He came towards you and lowered his face so it was inches away from yours. You felt your heart skip beat and was about to say something when he pushed his lips onto yours, which you immediately responded to. Holy shit. This is real.

[tranqueenila]

Fated.

She quickened her pace of running when she saw the large clouds started to gather in the sky, leaving nothing but a tar-black view for her to gaze up at. The rain was coming for sure, she thought. The sound of the wind moaning against the trees occupied her heavy breathing: both getting uneven as time went by, her hands fisting into tight balls as she sprinted her way back home. Getting rained on, soaked and cold throughout the rest of the journey was literally the last thing she would ever want to happen to herself at the moment. However, nature seemed to have a better, or mayhaps, worse plan for this petite girl. In about a block-away distance from her apartment, she felt the first drop on top of her head. One drop. Two drop. It kicked off as a short tapping, then it became a pitter-patter and soon enough, the rain began pouring down heavily. The clouds squeezed their beads of water onto the ground and at that very moment, she knew it was not a good day and will never ever be a good day for her.

By the time she reached home, she was completely drenched from head to toe. To tell that she was completely annoyed and displeased was.. literally an understatement. Sighing, she ran the pad of her thumb across the glass of her watch and squinted her eyes to take a closer look of the time. “09:00 AM,” she breathed before heaving another lingering sigh to discard the wet fabrics and rewarded herself a warm bath. It was not actually a reward, not even close to one. But, let’s just say she was just trying to ease herself down, making herself feel better after the unexpected downpour earlier.

Jennie. That was her name. It was never her hobby to run and jog around as she had always been occupied with works and stuffs. Back then, she always spent her time getting engrossed in myriads of documents piling up on her table in the middle of her dad’s office. But now, that ended. Momentarily, at least. This all happened because her dad decided that it was time for her family to migrate back to her birthplace, and for that to happen, they had to leave South Korea. She had to leave South Korea. For the family though, it was no big deal. They were just leaving a country. But not for Jennie. She had to leave the country and someone that she loved so dearly.

Maybe, just maybe, that explained why she had gotten herself into this new haste habit, chaos lifestyle. She noticed how she’d jolt awake at 4 in the morning, unable to coax herself back to sleep and end up staying awake until the sun came in the view. It left her exhausted, but she felt as if her hands were tied. There was absolutely nothing she could do to make herself feel better, to make things get better, to let herself live better. She couldn’t even find ways to knock herself out in bed because everything was in vail. Every small trials were futile. Therefore, she decided to get herself tired. Like very, very, very tired, so that she could sleep in ease. That was the reason why she left the house at 8 in the morning for a run, just to get herself doused under the rain and now she was back in the bathroom, the entire body except her neck upwards dipped in the warm, foamy water; the same frown drew across her face.

“Great,” she spat bitterly in a quiet whisper. “It supposed to be a part of healing to get over Daniel but I ended up getting myself borderline sick. Very great.”

- - -

“Jennie!”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Do you perhaps, need a vacation? The last time I visited your apartment and I swear to God, you weren’t in your best state ever.”

Jennie rolled her eyes, tipping her head to one side so that the smart device stay sandwiched in between her ear and her shoulder. It was such a sappy conversation with a sappy topic and a sappy effort to make her feel times better. The last time her dad barged into her apartment, she was holding up a canned vodka in her hand, her macbook on her lap. Her ‘Hi, dad’ was a little different that day, too. Rather than saying it verbally, she flicked her fingers and opened the drink, leaving the hissing sound do the talking. Definitely not in my best state ever, she shrugged.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just give me a few more days off and I’ll get back to the office.”

“No, not really.” Jennie could hear his heavy sigh. There was a long pause in between, in which Jennie didn’t even bother to interrupt while taking a platter filled with her sandwich to the couch. “I need you in the office but.. just, not like this, okay. You ain’t gonna work that out.” He began again, earning a hum from her daughter as a hint for him to carry on. Whatever there was in his mind, she couldn’t care less. It wouldn’t make any difference, so why bother, right? There was another silence bestowing the phone call, and it could even stay like that forever for all she cared. Chewing on the sandwich still, she gave her dad a chance to spill it.

“If I let you go to Korea, would you love that?”

Those words made Jennie choke on the sandwich almost immediately and instantly that the platter almost slipped out of her palm, leaving her dad on hold whilst her other hand was busy patting her chest to get rid of the food stuck inside. After a split moment or two, she reached her hand forward to mug down the water, regaining her composure before getting back on the call with her dad.

“Sorry dad, I was, uh, too shocked. What were you saying? I mean, yes! I want to go back to Korea. Yes, thank you! Bye!”

Frankly, she didn’t even wait for his reply or whatsoever but hung it up right after. Jennie knew that her dad knew going back to Korea would make her happy. Hell, her reaction was too palpable, there was nowhere in the godly heaven he couldn’t grasp that. It was probably his instinct that she was not enjoying any of her time here in her own birthplace. It was a beautiful city, a great one to reside. But she missed Korea. She missed everything about that country.

And she was not gonna decline such offer when it was right before herself.

- - -

“Damn, I almost forgot how cold Korea is.” Jennie breathed, wisps of frosty air escaping her lips as she made her way through the pavement. It was mostly covered with snow, sometimes mounted a little at some parts that had Jennie getting [this] close to trip. It was white everywhere, painted a little red and brown here and there, now and then. It felt like home. Not exactly, but close.

She arrived in Seoul three days ago, and it was honestly a mistake of agreeing without consulting her dad about it. Jennie forgot how the seasons ran differently at some countries, and it was winter in Korea. And there she was, clad in white thick knitted sweater with a black Chanel trench coat on top. Definitely not a winter choice. Since ever her arrival, she had met a few of her friends. Rosie just happened to come back on random occasions with her family before flying back to Australia, so they got to spend a little time together until the departure took place. She was enjoying her stay, so far. And guess what would make her feel even better?

Hot chocolate. Exactly.

It was freezing cold outside. Jennie decided to give her favourite café a visit too. Unplanned, but it was one of the must-go places in her short journey here. Pushing the door with her gloved hand, she stepped in and the warmth quickly enveloped her body, granting herself in such a great sensation. The smell of the hotly brewed coffee and freshly baked cookies filling her nostrils immediately, invading her mind next that left her exhaling out loud. Now, that felt a little more like home.

“Hot chocolate, please,” she ordered, paying for it right after so that she can secure herself a seat for a longer time. This café served one of the best pastries too. It was pretty close to her apartment when she lived in Korea back then, hence giving herself the full permit to be the permanent customer here. She always dropped by to get herself a bag of bagels on her way to her workplace, and never missed a day not getting her daily dosage of hot chocolate on her way back home. It was her routine, and she was not even complaining because damn, she just loved every little inch of the café. It varied from the way the hanging little lamps shimmer under the reflection of the glasses to the way the frames decorated the wall, the white cabinet with black linings that blended so well with the white painted walls. These seemed to be.. aesthetically pleasing. Something that she couldn’t find elsewhere. Not even in New Zealand.

“I’m sorry, uh, Miss.” A voice interrupted Jennie’s calm thoughts, earning a soft hum from the latter as she sipped on her sugary drink. “May I sit here? It’s too cold outside but it’s too packed inside. I couldn’t find any other seat except this one in front of you. May I?”

“Of course. Please have a seat, Mister— Oh my God.”

A hand flew to her mouth as she lifted up her gaze to lock it with the stranger. It seemed like the other person— a man, experienced the same feeling too as his eyes went so wide, probably mirroring her expression right now. They shared looks after looks, words bubbling in their throats but none of them got to utter even a single syllable, not until they broke it at the same time.

“Jennie.”

“Daniel.”

The next thing Jennie remember was seeing the addressed man pulling out the chair and settled himself in front of her. This entire encounter was just.. farcical. They broke up right before Jennie moved back to New Zealand because “We ain’t gonna work this out” reason. It was not her choice too, really. She just couldn’t afford to keep it going, knowing that she was gonna be miles and miles away from him but still keeping a tight hold on his whereabouts. She was afraid that he might feel restricted. She was afraid if he decided to end it himself.

“So, back in Korea, huh?” Daniel quipped, taking a short sip of his black, hot liquid while keeping the eye contact going. The question caused the woman before him to chuckle and nod.

“Yes. Just arrived, actually. A couple of days ago.” Jennie said. She showed a great effort trying to explain things, and she noticed how Daniel’s expression had gotten softer and softer as times went by. The longer they kept their eyes locked, they deeper they got back into the puddle of mixed feelings. Those feelings that they once shared before together.

“So... how are you doing? So far?” Her voice rang again after she cleared her throat, obviously trying to converse as she shifted a little due to the discomfort of the awkward silence. Daniel settled down his cup and interlocked his fingers together. Silently, he replied, “Nah. Been working. Working on stuffs and working out” that ended with a smug grin in a teasing manner. Geez, he didn’t lie for sure. Jennie noticed how his buildup had gotten a little firmer, a little stronger and slightly broader. “You, Jane?”

The nickname rolled off the tip of his tongue oh so beautifully that it got Jennie’s heart doing frantic backflips, heat creeping up her pale neck. For once she was thankful that she had a turtleneck to cover it up. She was trying to play it cool but this goddamn guy in front of her was smiling so widely, she barely made a single word out. “I’ve been well.” Oh, that was a lie. “Just like you, I work but with my dad. It just the same old problems, you know. Unable to sleep at night,” she paused.

“And being awake by 4am.” Both of them said at the same time.

Jennie shot him a what-the-heck look, just to be reminded that Daniel had always been an observant and laughed it off softly, at the same time getting herself blushed. No doubt, she probably was like that before too. But she was too caught up with the affections he was showering her with that she didn’t realise she had the problem. It was back in New Zealand when she knew she had one. But now, she literally had another problem. Their eyes met again, this time filled with adoration and love as the entire scene seemed to freeze for them to capture the moment.

Let’s be real over here. None of them wanted the break-up. Really, Jennie did not come back to Korea for him. Hell, she didn’t even think of their lives to cross path ever again. They were different in every possible ways, from the way they were raised, the people they were engaging themselves with, etc. But now it happened, and she wouldn’t want to leave him ever again. Looking at him this close, she wanted to be even closer. Her eyes got a tad higher, trying to reminisce how soft the locks felt in between her dainty fingers then raked her gaze down to scan his facial features and mom, how she missed kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his pointy nose, his chin and those pink plump lips. She was probably being obvious with her action but for once, just for this once, she didn’t care. Plus, she could bet herself that Daniel was doing to the same to her face. His beauty was something that she will never be able to impart, the words seemed to get less meanings compared to him. And that moment itself, she knew that she was falling for him all over again.

“Hot chocolate as usual?” His voice shook her from her intense staring, causing her to lean back slightly with her scarlet cheeks. The corner of Daniel’s lips tugged upwards into a cheeky and amused smile, his words were laced with tease and joke as per usual. He loved how Jennie was too careless at things like this that it made her look like a little kitten scurrying away in hopes she’d given an amnesty. Darn cute.

“Yeah. And you, black coffee, less sugar as usual?” Jennie shot back, batting her eyelashes at him just to earn a guffaw as a reply. It made Jennie smile immediately, as if they were meant to be in this scene. Her heart skipped a beat again when Daniel leaned forward on his elbows. “Yes. You remember my favourite.” He said, before pushing himself off the chair to stand on his feet. Jennie was fast enough to stop him though, her fingers holding on his wrist to stone his movement. She didn’t even tell herself about it but she just did it off her own bat.

“Do.. you, perhaps, want to come over to my place? We can talk. It’s uh..” Think of excuses, Jennie, think, think, think, think. “.. cold outside! Way too cold.”

Idiot.

It took Daniel a few seconds to process what she was saying, and his ears got slightly reddened at the same time. He nodded, and he slipped her grasp off his wrist just to drag his palm across hers. Her hand felt so small, so delicate, so fragile and so cold. He shifted his gaze, grabbing the glove on her side to ease her fingers into the thick cloth. “Come on, Jane” came his reply, the smile widened that left Jennie speechless.

Jennie guided the way towards her apartment, hand-in-hand with Daniel. They began to get louder and louder, sometimes Jennie jumped on the balls of her feet while she explained stuffs and Daniel, with his usual instincts, instantly wrapped an arm around her waist to make sure she didn’t trip on the snowy road. He laughed along, their laughter rang the bells that Jennie hang on the white-painted door.

“Come in, Daniel.” Jennie pushed the door open, revealing the same apartment as she left but slightly fancier now that she brought some things from New Zealand. The rest was the same though. The same gray couch with a glassed table in front, the same TV, the same wallpaper and the same frames that filled up one side of the wall. They were all their pictures and she didn’t even bother to take them down.

“You know, I felt like it was really unfair for us to break up before.” Daniel started off, shrugging his thick jacket off his shoulder and draped it on the countertop. He ambled his way to the living room but turned out right before his knees hit the couch. “I miss you a lot, Jane. I waited for you.”

Screw the butterflies, Jennie felt the entire zoo in the pit of her stomach right now. This man right here knew how to get the softest of her and she was not going to blame him. In fact, she was about to make a use of this opportunity to the very bits. Immediately, Jennie ran into Daniel and caused both of them to fall backwards; her small palm covering the back of his head in case they might land inaccurately on the couch with another laughter filling the atmosphere of the apartment. She quickly slithered her arms around his neck, hugging him tight while Daniel did the same to her waist. They stayed like that for a couple of moments, saying nothing but indulging into each other’s warmth that they missed. It was as if their bodies yearned for each other, and now they finally reunited and it felt so good. Daniel’s scent filled Jennie’s nostrils, patting her in ease as she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “I miss you too. I miss you a lot.” She said in staccatos, a kiss in between each words that made the man chuckle.

Daniel thumbed Jennie’s cheek inwardly, feeling how the soft, mushy cheek began to warm under his touch. She was blushing. He then took the initiative to lift her face by pinching her chin softly, allowing their eyes to meet and it was true. She was blushing, madly. In what seemed to be a matter of seconds, his lips found her. It was quick, and heartfelt. The kiss was chaste, soft, loving, nothing so hard and harsh but love and love only. Jennie smiled in the kiss, began to respond by moving her lips along to work on the lip-lock while expressing her longing towards the man. Their lips melded so perfectly, their breathing pace synchronised and their hands remained planted on each other’s cheek.

Jennie missed every second of this. The feeling of his arm tightening around her waist that pinned her closer on top of him enhanced the sense of security, the feeling of his lips dampening hers in multiple kisses blinded her about everything else but love, the feeling of his ‘I love you’ being mouthed against her lips just caught her heart quenching so hard. They parted, just to rejoin their lips again. It went on again and again, until one time they really needed the time to catch their breaths with a broad smile.

“Did you hear what I was saying?” Daniel questioned, eyes falling back on her lips as he tried to fight back the urge to peck them. He failed miserably though, when he leaned in and captured them for several quick pecks.

“Mmhm? Nah.” Jennie said jokingly, pushing herself up slightly so she could see Daniel’s face properly. Her smile was too wide that her eyes turned crescents, cheeks getting pinkish.

Daniel groaned in an obvious playful manner, causing Jennie to hit his chest with a joyful laughter. “Miss, better listen carefully because there will be no repetition after this.” He said, booping her nose. “I said,” he paused and kissed her rosy cheek. “I” with a kiss on the forehead, “love” with a kiss on the chin, and “you” with a final kiss on Jennie’s grinning lips. He bit on her lower one lightly, grumbling teasingly before he joined the laughter. Jennie had her entire face going red, and this time she was the one leaning forward until they got to nuzzle the tips of their noses together.

“And Mister, I’m gonna give my answer. Whatever it may be, it’s nonnegotiable.” She breathed softly, just as playfully while scrunching her nose. She started off by kissing his lips, mumbling her ‘i wuff you’ muffled against those pillowy ones before she ended up showering his entire face with multiple kisses. Daniel was a squirming mess underneath, his guffaw broke the silence of the winter night as Jennie continued printing down kisses everywhere she could reach on his face until she was satisfied. She then slumped forward, falling back into the man’s embrace to be hugged again.

The night was blessing them, literally. The snowflakes fell each at one time while they kissed, sometimes more than necessary when they giggled and silence when they stared at each other. The heater was filling up the spacious apartment with warmth, but none could beat the ones this couple was getting from their lovers. They had this wide smile spread across their visages that they were unable to pull off. Jennie had been cuddling close to him on the couch with a blanket on top of their bodies, eyes on the lit TV but not focusing as she was playing with Daniel’s long fingers idly. She kissed on the knuckles occasionally, too. Him, on the other hand, was using his free hand to twirl and play with Jennie’s hair, sometimes dipping the tip of his nose to inhale the scent of her fresh, fruity shampoo before nestling his face on her neck; he was being damn obvious that he didn’t pay attention on the movie that was playing and Jennie loved that. This whole scene felt like old times, but better. The feelings were much stronger, the love was much deeper, and they were crazily in love with each other.

They stayed like that the entire night, exchanging I love you’s in one another’s arms.

Now it felt like home.

They knew they had found their way back home.