#elegantly cuts down the enemy

[lixenn]

Kurumi express delivery service! 3/10 package will arrive on time but it's condition is questionable at best and totally ruined at worst.

rest in pieces yui 💀👍✨

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

[queenshelby]

Business As Usual (Part Five)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Angst, Cheating

Words: 1,678

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Just as you heard the shots and Tommy walked outside, your heart raced in fear. Your body trembled with anxiety, realizing how dangerous your life had become since marrying into the world of the notorious Peaky Blinders and, even though you grew within the ranks of the Mafia, you had always been sheltered from the dangers of the underworld.

But this did not mean that you could not protect yourself. Your father had taught you how to shoot when you were just a child. Taking one step backward, your hand thus instinctively reached out to grab the gun resting elegantly yet threateningly upon Tommy’s mahogany-finished desk.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal surface, feeling an almost primal connection to it. The click echoed through the vastness of the room, reminding you of all those years ago – practicing until your aim became perfect, steady. This was what you needed now as there was no way that you would rely on anyone else to protect you and the unborn child you were secretly carrying.

You heard another shot being fired outside before gripping the gun firmly, pushing past the panicked fear swirling inside you.

As you stepped forth onto the porch area where Tommy was standing, he immediately snapped, telling you to go back inside.

"I told you to stay inside!" His voice boomed throughout the night air like thunder, causing birds to scatter and leave their perches just before another shot was fired from somewhere down below - close enough to raise alarm bells in both of your hearts. Fear and adrenalin coursed swiftly through your veins, urging you both to act decisively amidst uncertainty. 

"Who is it?" your voice quivered slightly as the words left your lips, betraying your growing fear.

"Someone whose got out for you and your fucking family. Now go back inside!" Tom's command came sharply, cutting through the oppressive silence that had fallen upon the gardens below. But despite his tone suggesting authority, his face revealed hesitation mixed with anger, making clear that while he knew better than most, leading such a brutal organisation carried its own set of burdens. As his gaze shifted towards the ground, you couldn't help but notice how his usually cold exterior softened, replaced instead by vulnerability which only served to intensify the desire simmering beneath the surface.

With Charlie inside, he knew not to let this stand and, just after you indeed walked back into the foyer of your large residence, your husband ought to investigate the disturbance. 

His presence commanded attention wherever he went. He strode purposefully forward, his powerful legs propelling him quickly along the front yard of Arrow House. 

His mind conjured up images of the enemies he had vanquished and friends made, allies lost...all these memories seemed to whisper in his ear as he approached closer to the place from whence the shots were coming. His chest tightened at the thought of losing more comrades, especially when they faced challenges like this. It was a constant struggle, and although some may deem it glamorous due to popular culture portrayals, Tommy understood well that leadership wasn't easy nor glamorous, requiring endurance, tactical thinking and, above all, sacrifices.

Meanwhile, you walked towards the back of your large house to also investigate where the shots were coming from. Feeling anxious and worried, adrenaline flowed through your veins, leaving your hands clammy and your stomach knotted. 

You knew that someone was in your house, intending harm to either Tommy or yourselves. Slowly, stealthily, you moved further into the hallway of your home, peering around corners and into rooms to ensure nothing escaped your vision. All the while, your ears strained to pick up any sounds indicative of danger nearby.

Suddenly, you caught sight of movement behind the sofa at the far end of the living room, and you instinctively raised your weapon, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Just then, something fell through the air from behind you.

Before you could react, the silhouette of a tall looking man emerged from behind the furniture, lunging toward you with a savage grace. With lightning speed, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying straight towards your target. There was an audible scream followed by a sickening crunch, and then eerie stillness returned once again.

For a moment, you stood motionless, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It took several moments for you to realize what you had done.

Adrenaline surged through your body, and you felt numb. Your arms shook violently as you dropped the gun onto the floor, its sound reverberating across the silent house. You hadn't realized how much your body ached until you finally stopped firing. The pain radiated from your shoulder down your arm and into your wrist as you too must have been shot. 

You covered your arm with your hand, trying to stop the bleeding as you looked downward, seeing the victim laying sprawled lifeless beside you before you heard yet another shot being fired outside, causing you to jump.

The sudden noise broke the spell, bringing back the harsh reality of the situation. Realization struck hard, as your heart hammered fiercely in your chest, your limbs trembling involuntarily. Adrenaline filled your system, causing your pulse to race erratically. Gulping down your terror, you managed to regain control over your shaking knees and picked up the gun you had fired just moments ago.

You raced outside, determined to find the source of the last shot fired. Outside, darkness loomed heavily, providing ample cover for potential attackers. The rain began to fall, creating puddles everywhere as you searched frantically for anything unusual that might indicate the presence of hostile forces. Glancing nervously in every direction, you tried to maintain focus while battling against fatigue and discomfort caused by your injury.

Finally spotting something suspicious near a group of bushes, you slowly edged closer, pointing your gun directly ahead as you steadied your breathing.

This is when you saw her. The woman you hated the most, holding a knife against your husband's throat while Isiah Jesus, another member of the Peaky Blinders, was pointing a gun at her.

Her hazel eyes held a mixture of determination and cruelty, contrasting starkly with Tommy's own intense gaze fixed on hers

Carefully, you approached the group and, in her panicked state, Laura did not notice you until your gun was pointed directly at her head. 

"Drop the fucking knife or I will blow your brains out," you warned her, taking care to remain calm and composed. Your heart pounded in your chest, knowing full well that this situation was beyond treacherous.

Laura, however, remained unfazed, seemingly reveling in the fact that she was putting Tommy and herself in grave danger. Her resolve appeared ironclad, hinting at an underlying reason behind her actions that you didn't understand, but your primary concern at that moment was getting Tommy safely out of the line of fire, simply for Charlie's sake. 

"You should join my side, Y/N. He is using you and so is your family," Laura argued defiantly, clearly wanting to cause havoc.

"Says the woman with no fucking morals whatsoever," you retorted, feeling your blood pressure rise as you struggled to contain your rising temper.

Isiah merely watched with grim detachment, waiting for orders from Tommy and sensing that things were about to get ugly very soon. 

Realizing that arguing wouldn't solve anything, Tom decided to take action. His decision was final, showing the strength of his convictions even during times of crisis.

"Now drop the knife," you demanded again forcefully and, just as you spoke the words, Tommy grabbed her wrist tightly in an effort to push her away. 

Laura, of course, put up a fight and it was this fight which caused you to lower the gun and shoot, aiming directly for her knee cap. The loud crack of the gunshot echoed around the neighborhood, startling nearby animals awake and bringing people to their windows wondering what was happening outside.

She cried out in agony, falling to the ground with a grimace painted across her face. 

"This is for sleeping with my fucking husband," you seethed before uncocking your weapon.

 Turning to Tommy, you asked him one simple question, "Why her? Why would you choose her?" This time, your hurt manifested itself in a palpable way, striking Tommy squarely in the gut as he contemplated your query. 

He sighed wearily, running a hand through his dark hair in a characteristic gesture that belied his turmoil within. "It was business, nothing more," he said weakly, unable to meet your eyes. 

But his eyes told another tale, and you recognized that look of guilt etched across his features.

"She fucking played you," you muttered under your breath, turning away to avoid further confrontation.

As you stepped away, moving past Isiah and heading towards the house, tears welled up in your eyes - the result of the betrayal, fear, and confusion swirling inside you.

"Get her away from my fucking house and put a bullet in her head if you want to, Thomas! I don't ever want to see this woman again. Do you hear me?" you spat after having turned around momentarily. Your heart pounded madly in your chest, threatening to escape from your ribcage altogether.

Pain seared through your injured arm, forcing you to grit your teeth against the waves of agony crashing upon you. Ignoring the debilitating pain, you pushed open the door leading back into the living room. Inside, everything looked as though chaos reigned supreme—the mess of torn papers littering the floor bore testament to the urgency of the encounter that had unfolded earlier. Dread settled in your bones as you trudged through the broken glass and discarded documents, eventually reaching the staircase leading to the second level.

Tears threatened to overflow as you climbed the steps, wincing slightly at the sharp prickle of pain coursing through your wounded arm.

Desperate to distract yourself from the overwhelming mix of emotions raging within you, you attempted to focus on your physical injuries instead. The bullet lodged in your arm had now begun to throb insistently, accompanied by a steady trickle of blood oozing outwards.

You knew that you had to attend to your injuries now but you almost had no strength left within you to do so until, eventually, you heard a familiar voice from behind.

"I will take you to the hospital, Love," Tommy whispered softly, his tone laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. It seemed as though he genuinely wanted to comfort you despite all that had transpired tonight. And suddenly, your anger started to fade somewhat, probably because you were exhausted. 

Inhaling deeply, you shook your head, knowing that there would be questions. 

"No. You can get the bullet out," you replied stubbornly, unwilling to let anyone else help you. As strong as you may appear, you knew deep down that it wasn't really you, but rather pride keeping you standing upright in those shoes. Even as you clenched your jaw, attempting to hide the pain, your legs wobbled beneath you like jelly. 

"I would, if you weren't pregnant," Tommy responded, a hint of regret evident in his tone. 

Hearing these words, shockwaves of emotion coursed through you as you absorbed the truth hidden within those little words: 'pregnant'. 

Your entire world shifted abruptly as gravity lost its meaning and the air became heavier. Reality crashed down on you mercilessly, leaving you stunned. Your child...his child, conceived amidst the chaos and violence that surrounded them daily.

"You know that I am pregnant? How?" you asked, seeing that you never told him. The uncertainty in your voice revealed both your surprise and disbelief. 

Tommy nodded solemnly, acknowledging your astonishment. "Frances became to notice. She told me and I figured that you were going to see someone about it," he explained. 

"I couldn't terminate the pregnancy, no matter how much I wanted to Thomas," you admitted, your voice low and somber. 

There was a pause between you two before Tommy finally broke eye contact, looking downward thoughtfully. "I understand," he said before taking your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then leading you to his Bentley. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[perkypeony]

𝕎𝕀ℕℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝕆𝕍𝔼ℝ

Umemiya Hajime x girlfriend reader (this is the story of how they fall for each other)

"Morning, sweetie. How are you today?" A blonde boy called out teasingly as he walked past Y/N. His friend, dressed in a black hoodie and a blue cap, gave her a wink. She rolled her eyes and kept walking, but a hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"No need to rush. We just want to get to know you," the blonde said.

"Leave me the hell alone," Y/N snapped, yanking his hand off her shoulder.

"Tsk, such a naughty mouth for someone so cute and innocent."

She scoffed, her patience wearing thin. It was only 8 a.m., far too early to be throwing punches, no matter how tempting it was.

"I don’t have time for your crap," she muttered, trying to push past them.

"Aww, is someone mad?"

Before she could respond, a stern voice cut through the air from behind her.

"Leave her alone."

The two boys turned around, one of them snickering. "Well, well, who do we have here? Is she your girlfriend?"

"No," the voice replied coolly. "But we always protect Furin girls."

Y/N turned and found herself face-to-face with Umemiya Hajime. His striking blue eyes and white hair made him easily recognizable. As a second-year at Furin High, he had a reputation that was hard to ignore. Friendly and laid-back around his friends, but fierce and unrelenting when it came to his enemies. He was also a strong candidate for Furin’s next leader.

But for Umemiya, the moment their eyes met, everything changed. His usual confidence faltered as his heart skipped a beat, captivated by her presence. He’d seen her around before, but standing this close, he couldn’t shake the sudden pull he felt toward her. There was something about Y/N that made the world slow down, something he couldn’t quite explain but couldn’t deny.

The boys clearly had no idea who they were dealing with. In an instant, both were sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain and regretting their decision to mess with her.

Umemiya barely glanced at them. His focus was entirely on Y/N.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been a moment ago, a stark contrast to the cold look he'd given the troublemakers.

"I’m fine," Y/N replied, though a small part of her was annoyed she hadn’t gotten to punch them herself. "Next time, you don’t have to step in. I can handle them."

"I know," he said, offering her a charming, easy smile, though his heart was still racing from the sight of her. "But it’s not exactly gentlemanly to let a girl get into a fight, right? Oh, and you’re Y/N, aren’t you?"

"Yup, that’s me."

Hearing her confirm her name felt like a victory, his pulse quickening again. He’d never been one to lose his cool, but something about her had him off balance.

"Mind if I walk you to school?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though the hope in his voice was undeniable.

"Sure," Y/N agreed. Being around people she wasn’t close to usually made her anxious, but for some reason, being next to Umemiya made her feel... calm.

Their walk to school was quiet, but Umemiya’s mind raced the entire time. He stole glances at her, soaking in every detail—the way she walks confidently yet elegantly, the way her features caught the sunlight. This wasn’t just an ordinary attraction. It felt like something deeper, something he hadn’t experienced before.

When they reached the school gates, Umemiya broke the silence. "Let me escort you to your class."

"You don’t have to. And do you even know which class I’m in?"

"I recognized most of the first-years by now," he said confidently, though in truth, he'd made it a point to remember every detail about her since the moment their paths had crossed.

"Alright... Thanks, Umemiya." She gave him a small smile—one that was enough to make his heart race all over again. He’d never thought something so simple could have such an effect on him.

"You’re welcome. If you ever need help again, just let me know. Oh, and… can I have your phone number?" he asked, almost shyly.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up slightly. "F-for what?"

"I don’t know," he said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide his nervousness. "Maybe we could hang out sometime."

Hang out? With a senior? Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond but eventually handed him her number.

As she walked away, Umemiya watched her go, still reeling from their encounter. His heart thudded in his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself grinning like an idiot. He didn’t know how or why, but he was determined—he was going to win her over.

Later that day, Umemiya watched as Y/N left Pothos Café. He smiled awkwardly before turning to Kotoha, who was wiping down a table.

"Kotoha! I’ve got a lot to ask you!" Umemiya exclaimed in his usual, excitable tone.

"Stop shouting! What is it this time?" she replied, rolling her eyes at his antics.

"What do you know about Y/N?"

“Well, she's a sweet person, comes here at least once a week, and lives with her aunt and uncle,” Kotoha explained.

“What else? I mean... Do you know what her hobbies are, what she likes to eat,” Umemiya lowered his voice slightly, “and if she's single?”

“Ohhh, I see. You’ve got a crush on her, don’t you?” Kotoha teased, a playful smirk appearing on her face.

“Fine, I like her. Like, so much. This morning, I saw her standing up to two boys who were harassing her, and my feelings for her only intensified. She’s so brave, and she’s gorgeous too.” Umemiya’s eyes became dreamy as he went on, clearly unable to get Y/N out of his mind. He started to wonder if this was what love at first sight felt like.

Kotoha chuckled. “She seems single to me. But if you wanna be sure, you should man up and ask her directly.”

Umemiya sighed dramatically. “But I’m worried I’ll get nervous and stumble over my words, and then she’ll think I’m a weird, creepy dude!”

“You’re overthinking this too much,” Kotoha said, palming her face. “You’ll never know until you try.”

“Maybe you’re right. Thanks, Kotoha.” Umemiya smiled gratefully. “Actually, I came here for your delicious omurice. Could you make one for me?”

“Of course.” Kotoha paused for a moment before adding, “By the way, if you’re curious about her favourite food, I always see her buying teriyaki chicken onigiri at the convenience store. And whenever she comes here, she always orders hot milk tea.”

The next day, luck was on his side as he spotted Y/N at the convenience store counter, paying for an ice cream mochi.

"Hey, Y/N. Nice to see you here," he greeted, doing his best to hide the shakiness in his voice. His heart raced just being near her.

"Oh, hey, Umemiya. What are you doing here?"

"Uh… just getting a drink." He cursed himself internally for not being smoother.

"Alright, see you around then." Y/N smiled briefly before leaving the store.

As she walked away, Umemiya realized he’d frozen up. This was supposed to be the moment he confessed! He dashed out after her. "Y/N!"

She turned, surprised. "Yeah?"

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "I like you."

Y/N blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Okay… you seem like a nice guy. So, make me fall for you then." She didn’t know where the sudden confidence had come from, but her face turned red as soon as she said it. Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off, leaving Umemiya grinning triumphantly.

From that day forward, Umemiya was determined. He left cute notes under her desk, gave her flowers, and walked her home when he could. He learned more about her—how she had a sweet tooth, loved to cook, and had a bit of a shy, awkward side when it came to love, likely because her aunt and uncle never showed her much affection.

One day, Y/N even mentioned wanting to cook with the vegetables Umemiya grew on the rooftop. It made his heart soar.

Two weeks after his confession, Umemiya decided it was time. He led Y/N to the school rooftop under the pretence of showing her his chilli plants. The morning breeze was cool, and the sky was clear as Y/N admired the healthy plants.

When she turned to him, she noticed he was fidgeting nervously. Before she could ask what was wrong, Umemiya knelt down, catching her completely off guard.

"Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?"

Y/N burst into laughter, surprising him. "Of course I will. You’ve proven that you’d be an amazing boyfriend."

A sigh of relief escaped him, and for the first time, Umemiya felt truly at peace. This was the best day of his life.

A/N: atp, i wrote a lot of umemiya x girlfriend reader that it kinda becomes a series😅 i'm gonna make a separate masterlist later. btw i have two more ideas but i'm not sure if i have the time to write them since the mid sem break is almost over🥲 anyway, thanks to those who are supporting me❤

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 1: Looking Death in the Eye

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people?

Part 2

.......

series inspired by the art below!

If there was anything your parents taught you, it was to never mix with the lower, working classes. You were royalty: there was never any need for you to lift a finger, let alone even ask for anything. Everything will be served to you on a silver platter. The heads of your enemies were no exception.

You grew up watching executions like it was a normal family affair, like it was the same as lazily observing geese land in the pond behind your castle as you sat with your chin in your hand. It was always the same. Your family's star executioner, up until now, would force the victim on stage and enact whatever cruel punishment your king and queen parents decided. It was a routine. There was no malice or passion behind it, it was just a job. Chopping heads off blocks was the same as completing a to-do list for most executioners, and you grew accustomed to seeing bloodied heads rolling over cobblestone.

But your family's loyal executioner died suddenly. The peasantry said he was possessed, that the devil had finally taken the man's soul for all the heinous acts he committed. Whatever the case, your family needed a new executioner, fast. It wouldn't be long before people committed more crime, knowing the axe of judgement was temporarily frozen above their heads. you could hear your parents frantically whispering in the dead of night over which executioner to choose. there were so many contenders for the spot. you couldn't have cared less who the new executioner would be. executioners, though their jobs were necessary for functioning society, were spurned and looked down on. a necessary evil, as some may say. your parents taught you to never speak to the executioner, much less even look his way. not out of respect, but rather to keep your eyes clean from the monstrosity of whatever man could live with cutting off heads each day.

the day eventually came when your parents decided on a new executioner. they seemed pretty excited about it, and decided to get right to the "festivities" to commemorate the occasion. the new executioner would, the moment he reached the royal ground, execute the line of prisoners whose deaths had been delayed since the passing of your previous executioner. You strode elegantly, as you were taught, to your seat on the elevated surface as the victims were lined up on the lower stage. the crowd watched anxiously. there was a different feeling in the air. everyone seemed even more scared than normal. the blood-stained oak chopping block had never seemed more foreboding.

and then you saw him. out of your family's royal carriage - the oldest and dingiest one, mind you - this giant of a man stepped out and scanned the crowd. everyone went silent. not even the birds dared to sing as he walked across the stage silently, his axe slung over his shoulder, the wooden boards underneath his jagged leather boots creaking loudly. he was nothing short of a giant. his shoulders were broad, and even though his chest was clothed with black cloth, you knew he was toned. he carried that monstrous axe like it was nothing but a butter knife. the only thing that reminded you that he was, in fact, human was the faint reflection of the sunlight in his eyes from deep within his black hood.

your breath caught in your chest as you observed him. he stood still by the chopping block, so naturally that you felt your spine tingle. your father bellowed out the reason for the execution spree - something about celebration - but your mind was completely fogged, filled with nothing but morbid curiosity for this new death-bringer who would be living in your castle. the executioner was then commanded to turn towards your family and bow before the executions began. this grim reaper turned his broad back and faced your family. his eyes scanned each one of you, but they lingered on you the longest. you felt like a gust of ice wind had just raced up from his gaze alone, manifested somehow by whatever mental prowess he seemed to possess. He bowed lowly to you and your family before standing, glancing at you once more, and then facing the crowd.

your father yelled out with raised arms, "my kingdom! this is your new judge, your executioner! the one who will bring you to justice from here forth is Konig!"

king. His name means king, you thought. how ironic. that a man with such a name - likely an alias - would be performing the work that no one dared do.

for the first time in your life, you watched avidly as this new executioner, as konig, swiftly cut each victims' head off like he was slicing butter. konig commanded respect. even the crowd was silent as he worked, his grunts and the dull sound of the axe meeting wood and bone were the only things to be heard as he performed his duty. it should have scared you. he should have scared you. and when the last victim's head rolled off the block and konig rested against his up-turned axe, you released a breath that you didn't know you had been holding.

hope you enjoyed! this will likely be multiple parts, and a slow burn. i just love this so much

[vhoorlpool]

ughhh… Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)ﾉ sorry for being inactive. work has been kicking my ass as of late!!!! but I’ve been daydreaming about knights recently…. and undead ones at that!!

nsfw under the cut, as always!! reader is GN :] MDNI please!!

where there is complacence, lies ambition and longing under fifty-five pounds of old, rusted steel and smelted iron plates, forever stuck to his decaying body like heavy shackles on a prisoner of war.

your beloved knight is the fallen angel whose wings are forever tainted, molted and slough, scarred and reeking of battles past. the swiftly given silence of a valorously wielded blade across warm flesh of an enemy’s bared throat, as sharp and conniving as a thief’s tongue. the hands that cradled your face and tilted it up, up, up, plated thumb brushing oh so tenderly over your lips; daydreaming how it would feel to finally kiss them.

it’s a shame, truly, he thinks. under his helm lies a face full of rotting teeth and decaying flesh yearning for the warmth of your touch— the softness of your skin. would you be disgusted? cast him aside as if you had discarded a wilted flower? or would you admire him? quench his thirst for your affections like dry earth begging for the slightest drop of rain?

though… he suspects such frivolous thoughts don’t matter. he’d love you either way.

he is something incomprehensible. someone who should’ve died the moment his body hit the ground as the world was pulled out from under his very feet. and yet, you’re the guiding hand that kept him going. the breath of fresh air in his lungs, the voice in his head that tells him to get up. they’re waiting for you.

the will of that which makes him, nothing, become something. and oh, how lovely it is to be something that belongs to someone like you.

unearthly, his voice sounds coarse; low and thick like dead grass in a bog. sweetly spoken praises and the echo of heavy panting inside his helmet is just as noticeable as the seeping, warm slick that squelches each time he thrusts two plated fingers into your drippy hole. he’s drunk on you, really, and the way those crystalline tears seem to fall ever so elegantly from your glassy, beautiful eyes sparkling like a swan’s pond under the sun. the gods can berate him for his lovesickness, and yet the feeling of losing himself in your gaze rivals that of seeing the full moon on a warm night.

nothing will compare to you. not ever.

he gently rests his head against your chest as he focuses on your racing heartbeat and the way you moan so sweetly for him; fingers prodding at your spasming hole as he stretches you farther and farther; curling his long digits until he reaches that gummy spot inside that has you crying out so deliciously.

being this close allows him to admire the pudginess of your belly and the swell of your hip that curves gracefully into your thigh; melding so gorgeously into the supple flesh of those quivering, spread legs he’d beg to have wrapped around his head just once. to him, you’re like a deity. someone to be worshipped on bended knee until you know just how loved you are. he’s the pariah, the outcast, whose veneration knows no bounds. the offering? the very heart you saved, and seem to hold so tenderly in your palms. please take it. it’s yours— it always has been.

he gives a few final, gentle thrusts of his fingers before you come undone; armor glistening from your spend as he holds you close, whispering gravelly assertions and loving proclamations as you float back down from your high. you’re even more gorgeous like this, he muses— and if he had the coin of a wealthy governor, he’d have that same blissful expression painted on a canvas as large as it would be wide. (…oh, come now. don’t be so shy. he knows it’s lewd, but truly, he can’t help himself.)

he strokes the apples of your cheeks, wiping your tears as he helps you up and into his arms in a bridal carry; heading for the bath chambers. he’d rather die than leave his majesty in such a debauched state, and it’s about time he care for those tender, aching muscles with gentle soap and flowery oils to rub into your skin after. he may not be able to join you, gods forbid the soapy water irritate his decaying flesh, but he gets enough excitement simply being able to both pamper and spoil you rotten.

you deserve it. don’t forget that, your eminence.

[onmyo-jin]

Kiss prompt #23: a kiss in relief | zyz/zyc, post brides' case because any excuse is a good excuse

I'm still taking prompts! Check out the list here

The demon has just enough decency to wait until they are alone, even if the door has only just slid closed behind Wen Xiao and Pei-daren. That is also all the decency he has.

A hand cups his neck, and Zhuo Yichen braces himself to resist a pull. Instead of pulling, Zhao Yuanzhou only uses that hand to lightly hold him in place, and moves himself closer until he is too close altogether. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips as he studies Zhou Yichen's face, and Zhou Yichen can feel his cheeks heating up under that scrutiny. The demon is practically sitting on his lap, leaning his knee next to Yichen on the seat. Yet Zhou Yichen cannot bring himself to move. He is held captive by that dark gaze far more than the hand at his neck, the weight of the demon on top of him.

A thought enters his mind, and he feels his cheeks burn brighter.

He has kissed people before, really, he has. They've just not really been people he was interested in… There were several ladies in a brothel, while he was on a case, which was really just awkward. And then there was that one drunk guy at the king's birthday celebrations last year– equally awkward but in an entirely different way.

Surely kissing a demon– his sworn enemy!-- would be awkward. As awkward or worse: what if the creature has sharp teeth, or, or–

To his knowledge Zhao Yuanzhou is not capable of reading minds, but he must have seen something, or be jumping to his own conclusions, for he leans in closer still. He is close enough now that Zhuo Yichen can feel the hot breath against his skin, close enough that they would touch if he were to move less than a single inch– he opens his mouth to speak, and watches Zhao Yuanzhou's eyes draw down to his lips: "What–"

Zhao Yuanzhou doesn't let him finish the question, but takes advantage of the opening he was given to lick into Yichen's mouth, tongue hot and eyes intent on Yichen. His lips seal any protest Zhou Yichen might have, silencing him more effectively than it would be to cut out his tongue. Smooth and hot against his own, they steal the thoughts he tries to gather, steal the will he tries to muster to escape the hands barely holding him. 

This kiss is nothing like any of his previous deplorable experiences: he can feel himself wanting to melt into that heat, wanting to surrender to the gentle pull, wanting more, more, more– He pulls Zhao Yuanzhou closer, and the demon loses balance elegantly, purposefully, until he is seated in Zhou Yichen's lap. Zhou Yichen can feel the heat of him through their clothes, and gasps into the kiss at his own thoughts. 

The great demon must have noticed his distraction, because he is rewarded(punished?) with teeth, biting at his lips, pulling him back to the present. He makes a needy little sound in shock, and immediately wants to disappear from the world. What was that sound?? Surely that was an accident– Lips part his own, and a hot tongue licks into him, electric, a distraction he cannot ignore. (At least one of them seems to enjoy that stupid sound, a voice that sounds like his own says in Zhou Yichen's mind.)

When he surfaces for air at last he is panting, and offended to find the demons seems entirely his annoying and unaffected self. Stupidly, like the answer isn't glaringly obvious, he demands: "What was that?" Clearly his brain is taking longer to catch up with this strange new reality than his eyes are (than his lips were).

"Why, is a friend not allowed to be relieved his friends won't be beheaded?" The demon does not move from his perch on Yichen's lap– worse, he wraps both his arms around his shoulders, and does not appear to plan on letting go anytime soon.

"Is this what friends do, then?" he snipes back, and has just enough time to regret his words before the easy smile on Zhao Yuanzhou's infernal face morphs into a hungrier grin.

"Is it not? Then what would you call this, Xiao Zhuo-daren?"

[magalidragon]

we will always have the weirwood tree | a Things We Left Behind AU | teaser

Broken men break women. Jon Snow was broken. And Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful.

Happy Birthday @youwerenevermine !

This is the long awaited Lucian x Sloane AU. It had everything you love and more. Enemies-to-Lovers, Grumpy x Sunshine, second chance romance, feral Jon, badass Dany….WE LOVE IT ALL!

As I have already said I didn’t finish the first chapter and decided to go all in and just give you the full 10k smut chapter 😂 But until then, here’s a big teaser.

LOVE YOU BESTIE AND HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BIRTHDAY!!! 🥳 🎂 🎉 🎈 🎁 💕

Super sneak peek after the cut!

Jon took a deep breath and opened the door, unfolding himself from the Range Rover. A blast of frigid air pushed his coat back and he reached up to anxiously push back some of his unruly black curls. He didn't mind the cold; it suited him. He ignored buttoning up his coat and strode down the drive, crossed the yard, entered the godswood on one side, and went around the massive weirwood tree-- ignoring the worn branches that stepladdered up to the bay window that looked directly at his childhood bedroom-- out the back gate and around the edge of the house to the front porch.

He didn't even have his knuckles lifted to knock on the door when it exploded open and a silver-haired, elegantly coiffed man flew out, smacking into him. "Jon!"

"Vis," Jon sighed, patting the man's back. Vis was older than him by at least seven years, but there were times where he behaved far younger. He figured that he'd be a mess. Vis was never one to handle anything rationally or professionally. He carefully extricated himself while at the same time turning Vis around and marching him into the house. "You made it in alright?"

Vis wiped at his eyes, nodding. "Yes, the plane was a bloody nightmare, they wouldn't even bump me from business to first class, can you believe it? I didn't even get a lie-flat seat on the flight!"

"Sorry to hear, call me next time I would have had my plane get you."

A set of pale lilac eyes widened greedily, even through the grief etched on his thin, pointed face. "Oh? Well I will do that." He beckoned him into the house. "Come on in. We ordered pizza, but mine is without carbs."

Jon didn't even know what that was supposed to look or taste like. Ash, he expected, and he politely declined, holding his hand up even as Vis was trying to offer him a slice. "No thanks, I already ate."

A cool, icy voice floated down from the staircase behind him. "Don't you know Viserys, vampires don't eat actual food. He only drinks the blood of innocents."

<i>And there she was.</i>

He didn't even need to turn around. In fact, he thought if he did, his knees would either give out because of the intense <i>want</i> she invoked within him. Or he'd snap and say something he would regret because of the intense <i>fury</i> she also invoked in him. There had been no one in his life who could make him swing from emotion to emotion on either side of the pendulum except for her.

<i>Daenerys Targaryen</i>

Dany, to her friends. Satan's Majesty to him.

He held his breath, turning his head a fraction to glance at her, a bemused expression settling on his face. Tonight she wore fuzzy pink dragon slippers on her tiny feet, a pair of dragon scale-like leggings in vibrant purple, and an oversized Winterfell High Track and Field sweatshirt that had seen better days, the dark gray wolf mascot on the front almost white from so many washes. Her silver hair, the same shade as her brother's, was bound up in a variety of braided knots, some of it left loose to cascade over her shoulders. There were a few faded pink drinks within it, probably a remnant from an All Hallow's Eve costume a couple weeks ago.

Unlike her brother, her eyes were more vivid, lavender with a flame held over them. It matched the fire that was always bubbling under her surface, unleashed whenever she felt passionate about something. Which happened more often than not.

Daenerys was nothing, if not passionate.

Especially for the ones she loved.

And he hated her for it.

It was that same passion that betrayed him.

And he couldn't forgive that. Jon Snow <i>never</i> forgave and he <i>never</i> forgot.

Plus, she was the epitome of Before. And the reason for After.

The funny thing was, Dany frgave and forgot either. It made for some awkward encounters over the years. Encounters which always left him aching, wanting, sometimes <i>begging</i> for more. Things he had suppressed in himself over the years. Weaknesses. Failures. It was why he never came back here if he could help it and when he did, he tried to always avoid the house beside the weirwood tree.

Yet it seemed he'd been here more often than he ever had before, checking on things...on people. On Aemon.

Now Aemon was gone. But he as here, wasn't he? That's all Aemon could have hoped for at this rate. Even if he never had understood why his beloved great-niece and his beloved...whatever the fuck Jon was suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room as each other without tearing each other's throats out.

He nodded to her. "Your majesty." He affected a fake bow, exaggerated and theatrical. He straightened, smirking at her, pushing down the surge of attraction. It seemed his body— notably his cock— had never received the memo that Daenerys Targaryen was off limits. She was the bane of his existence. She was the most obnoxious, annoying, infuriating, and downright ridiculous person he had ever met.

As she walked by, the top of her head barely at his eyesight, she scowled at him, giving him the finger. Her nails were purple with smiley faces on them. He hated them. "Fuck off, why are you even here? Vis, you know when you invite vampires into the house they can come in whenever they want."

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Three

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: Angst.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You didn’t have much choice in dressing up for the council meeting, but for once your mind was too distracted to care. So walking into the throne room wearing your official royal dress and Xhosa beaded head veil, you calmly walked over to Okoye and pursed your lips.

“Have you found anything regarding our uninvited… guest?” You softly questioned, looking at the faces of the elders already in attendance. There was an air of tension, like thick smog, it was uncomfortable to say the least. Okoye’s forehead scrunched in distaste.

“No, my princess,” She answered, dark eyes meeting yours with a thunderous clash. There was nothing Okoye hated more than being out of the loop, or having a potential threat and enemy, breach Wakandan borders without knowledge. “There was no breach from the skies or land, we would have detected it.”

“He came from the water, Okoye, I suspect that is how he was able to enter undetected.” You pointed out. “Do we have any security or defense measures in place regarding our rivers and streams? They are connected to the ocean.”

“None at the moment, there was never a need.” Okoye grudgingly admitted. You hummed in response before hearing Ramonda approach, turning in place, you looked to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything yet?” Ramonda sighed and shook her head.

“She is still looking into it, I suspect we shall have more answers soon enough.” She told you before sweeping around and elegantly sitting down on her throne. Sighing at the lack of new information, you took your seat on her right and folded your hands in your lap. Ramonda lifted her gaze to Okoye. “Have you done what I requested?”

“Thrice,” Okoye answered, her lips pressing together. “Heaven Scrapes had no evidence of any activity at all.” As she spoke the ceremonial doors boomed open and M’Baku entered flanked by four of his strongest warriors. Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh, knowing his proclivity to be prideful and, well, for lack of a more eloquent answer: blunt and a bit crude.

“So our river border has been breached? I once more offer the support of my Jabari Hell screamers. If my soldiers were present this... fish man, would be bound before us as we speak.” M’Baku spoke out, taking bite out of the carrot he held. Your eyebrow rose and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. The naval officers bristled at his tone and criticism of their duty.

“If your muscle brains were present, they would still be there choking on their fuzzy adornments.” Okoye cooly returned, her lips sneering. M’Baku glared at her and raised his carrot in her direction.

“You bald-headed demon—“

“Enough you two, show some respect,” Ramonda enunciated, shutting down the short quip between Okoye and M’Baku.

“Respect?” M’Baku repeated before rounding on the Naval officers. “Why are they guarding the river anyway? Because they did well in swimming school? These men should be ashamed to show their faces!”

“Watch your tone, Jabari!” The captain snapped back. The Jabari started to hoot, imitating their ancestral god, Hanuman.

“Elder M’Baku,” You voiced loudly, cutting the deep calls off. “Would you please take a seat so the council may convene?” M’Baku glanced at you for a brief moment, before huffing and taking a loud bite from his carrot, grudgingly sitting down. “Thank you.”

Clearing her throat, Okoye began reiterating all surveillance that had been reviewed since Namor had appeared.

“There is no aerial surveillance footage of him.”

“And nothing on radar as well.” The naval captain contributed, causing unrest to bloom among the council. The River Tribe Elder tilted his head.

“So he swam underwater for 60 miles?” It was nigh unbelievable, even with the many gifted individuals within Wakanda. No one had that ability. The elder turned to you. “And have you, princess, seen any visual of this man? You live on the fringes of our society along the river linked to the sea. Surely if anyone was to have seen him before he made his presence known, it would be you.”

You went to reply but found your throat freezing up and no words emerging. You were certain you had seen Namor two months past, hovering in the distance and watching. But he hadn’t approached you, or threatened you, and you were fairly certain that all Namor wished was for his people to be protected. Just like Ramonda. You made the hard decision to hold your tongue.

“No, Elder, I have not seen him before. I believe I would remember seeing a man with wings on his ankles. I’m sure it is not a sight one forgets.” You replied, letting your eyes drift to your lap. “If I saw what I perceived to be a threat to my home and country, I would not hesitate to inform the queen mother.”

The Elders all hummed in agreement, knowing that your undying loyalty to your home was unflappable and unwavering.

“He claims to command a massive army. I know a threat when I hear one.”

“He is trying to protect his people and his nation, queen mother,” You reminded her.

“And he is still a threat, Y/N.” She returned, giving you a stern look. “He came into my country, unannounced and unwelcome. You are soft hearted, my daughter, and your preference for diplomacy is valued beyond compare, but not in this moment.” Her words stung, but they were true. You didn’t back down from her gaze.

“So you believe that handing over the scientist to Namor is our only option? That the hands of our great country Wakanda have been tied!?” Ramonda’s stare into your eyes was hard for a few moments, you were talking to the queen, not your mother. “You know that he will probably kill them, is that what you want? Blood on our hands?”

“Blood on our hands will be the least of worries if he chooses violence, my child,” It was a loosing battle, certainly with this council. The Mining Tribe Elder shifted in her seat and chose to speak her thoughts

“We have never faced an enemy with access to Vibranium before, and we have no Black Panther to protect us.” Not this again. As you sighed and rubbed your forehead, M’Baku made a sound of sarcasm.

“Because this wise council allowed Killmonger to take the throne and burn up all of your precious Heart- Shaped Herb.””

“What would you have us do?” Ramonda questioned, waving her hand. M’baku snorted.

“We find the fish man and kill him.” You muttered several curses beneath your breath, earning a disapproving look from your mother while the Border Tribe Elder exhaled harshly.

“Who is being foolish now? You would have us make war with a man we know nothing about. At least we have intelligence on the Americans.” M’Baku countered just as strong.

“If we do what he wants now what’s to prevent him from coming back and asking for more?”

You hated that he was right.

The council had dispersed and you stood in front of the grand windows overlooking the city, your arms crossed. It was decided that the scientist would be located, but you weren’t sure what your mother would do once the scientist was in Wakandan control. At the very least you could take comfort in knowing that there still would be several weeks before any action would take place.

“Y/N,” Looking over your shoulder, your eyes watched as your mother slowly walked over to you, hands clutched in front of her. “I know you do not care for the decision made by this council…”

“Have we not lost enough family members to violence and ilk?” You softly spoke, underlying pain echoing in your eyes and voice. Ramonda’s gaze softened and she let out a breath, reaching out to lay a hand on your arm.

“That is precisely why I must protect Wakanda, protect you and Shuri,” Ramonda enunciated. “You and her are all I have left of my family and I do not want anything to happen to you.” She stroked your face, remembering your child self, broken and despondent after the death of your biological parents’ death, and the promise she had made. Ramonda had promised to protect you and never let any thing happen to you, she wasn’t about to break that promise now.

You looked down and pursed your lips.

“Regardless of the council’s decision, I would like to be updated on the situation with Namor.” Ramonda’s eyes tightened at the underlying message within your words. You were not staying within the city walls.

“You’re going back to your beach,”

“I am still finding myself, mother, and until I feel that I have a purpose within my nation, I would like to stay there.” Your decision hurt her as a mother, but as the queen, she understood your reasoning.

The ride back to your beach hut was quiet despite Shuri sitting across from you, staring at you. You knew that she was itching to question you about the council meeting, itching to question your opinion on Namor. Shuri didn’t care for being subtle when she wanted to know something. Like a dog with a bone.

“What is it, Shuri?” You questioned, finally addressing the elephant in the talon fighter. She made a face at you and crossed her arms.

“Why are you still insisting staying in that shack,” She asked with a wrinkle in her nose. The beads of your head veil jangled together when you shook your head.

“I’m not arguing with you on this Shuri,” You murmured, looking down at your hands and wishing that she wouldn’t continually pick fights with you about your choices to stay away from the citadel.

“So you are just going to ignore me then?”

“I said I’m not doing this with you Shuri,” You repeated firmly, your hands clenching. “Because you and I? We’d obliterate this universe with our anger and pain, and I refuse to take you down with me.”

Before Shuri had a chance to retort or counter your words, Okoye, who had been flying the talon, announced your arrival.

“We have arrived, princess.” You stood up and addressed Okoye before she landed the ship.

“I’ll take the beam,” You announced, hitting the open button for the tractor beam. The circular doors retracted and Okoye looked over her shoulder with a disapproving look. You gave her one last look before stepping over the edge and falling from the ship. It was only about ten feet you fell, your body gracefully folding and absorbing the impact like you had been taught, all too easily. Bouncing back to your full height, you held your hand up over your shoulder in a goodbye. The talon’s retreat was quiet and soon you were standing alone on your beach with the breeze softly blowing your dress and head veil.

You found yourself staring out across the water, a sourness in your stomach and an ache at your temple. Reaching up, you pulled the head veil down and held it tight in your hand. You thought you had been feeling better, but now you felt just as lost as when you had first come to this beach. Sighing deeply, you turned to your hut. It was time to change and start your dinner.

After changing into a cropped banded top that left your midriff free and a pair of loose pants, you carefully folded your dress and placed it into your dresser for safekeeping until someone came to visit and could take it back to the citadel. It was time to get back to your simple life. Rolling up the ends of your pants, you retrieved your weighted fishing net, put your pack on your back and departed your hut to fish for your dinner.

You had decided on a fish and corn chowder for dinner this night, needing something to take your mind off the politics of Wakanda. You had goats milk in your cold storage that needed using and your corn supply was plentiful. Not to mention potatoes grew like weeds in your farming patch in back of your hut. Slinging the fishing net over your shoulder, you carefully picked your way down the path to a fishing spot you knew would prove to be fruitful.

Reaching the spot, you carefully waded into the water and wiped your brow of sweat before readying the weighted net. Your fingers curled around the net and with a twist you let the net go flying. The weights hit the water and sank deep, and hopefully, catching your dinner. You repeated the process, slowly filling your pack with nile perch. Walking back to your beach, you scratched your sweaty neck and groaned. Feeling clean was one luxury you did miss.

The sun was setting when you had all the ingredients in the pot over the fire, bubbling and emitting smells that made your stomach rumble. All you had to do was wait for it to finish cooking. You took to looking skyward at the stars sparkling overhead, the sun only just illuminating the horizon and the bush nightlife coming to life.

“I can see why you like it here,” Gasping at the soft words breaking the peaceful silence, your hand dove for the vibranium knife at your hip and you twisted on the sand, moving into a defensive crouch. Namor stood a couple of meters from you, head turned to the sky.

“Ngqundu wako, Namor!” (You ass) You hissed sharply, your left eye twitching as your mind wondered if he had really, once again, snuck into Wakanda. The man eyed you with a charming smile.

“Ma'lob ak'ab, princesa,” (Good evening) You scowled at him and sunk your knife into the sand next to you.

“You can’t just go sneaking into Wakanda!” You exclaimed while clambering to your feet in a huff. Namor stepped to the side to face you, and a lopsided grin appeared. You felt like tearing your hair out. “Do you not understand how angry my mother is that you snuck in once! Why did you come back!?”

“Call it… curiosity?” He offered, as if he hadn’t thought of that reason himself.

“Your curiosity is going to get yourself killed, Namor,” You huffed at him. His eyebrow arched at you and amusement flickered within his brown eyes.

“Have you decided that I am your enemy, princesa?” You snorted in disbelief and looked around you, waving a hand.

“I don’t know you!” You answered him, eyeing him up and down and noting how relaxed he seemed. “And I doubt my mother would approve of me speaking with someone such as you with intimate names.”

“Would she?” Namor mused, stepped closer to you. You wanted to step backward, keep the distance between you and him. But the fire was directly behind you, you had nowhere to go. You could hear Okoye’s lecturing voice in your mind, telling you how foolish it was of you to get into vulnerable position. You lifted your chin and stood your ground.

“I’ll tell her that you came again.” You warned. He appeared to be amused by your threat, and a knowing smile stretched across his lips.

“You had an infinite amount of chances to tell her about my appearance two months past,” Namor reminded you. “Yet here we are.”

The look in his eyes told you everything. He knew that if you had told her, you would have never been allowed to return home to such a remote place without guard.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, deciding to just get answers. Another boyish smile appeared and he raised a hand, brushing his knuckles against your jaw before taking one of the braids framing your face and examining the beads braided there.

“I want to know more about you,” Namor explained honestly with a shrug. Behind you came the furious boiling of your dinner, but you didn’t dare move your eyes from his.

“My dinner is about to over boil so I think I will have to say goodnight to you, Namor,” You stated firmly. Namor smiled once more and reached for your hand. Your fingers twitched in his grasp and it took everything you had not to blanche and yank your hand back when he bowed his head and pressed his lips against the back of your hand.

“Ku méejtech uutsil, princesa,” (Have a nice meal) He murmured, maintaining and electrifying eye contact with you. Your fingers were released and Namor stepped back. Then with the grace of dolphin, dove into the water and disappeared. You turned and looked at your bubbling stew, bending down to remove it from the heat.

“Saved by the stew.”

Date Published: 3/19/23

Last Edit: 4/2/23

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[minhosimthings]

Hold me Without Hurting me

Chapter 9: Nettleseed and Next steps

A/N: In which an old friend fills your life with flowers again, along a bumpy sided road.

Pairings: Ceo!Jay × Ceo!fem!reader, includes rest of Enhypen and certain other groups

Warnings: angst-fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to enemies to fake dating to enemies to lovers, Mentions of food and alcohol, swearing, jay comfort, nothing much but it's a bumpy story.

Story prompt: If I had a flower for every time I fell in love with you, I would walk in my garden forever. (This story is based on the language of flowers.)

A/N: it's really short cause my brain couldn't write anything more but I promise the next one will be longer. And more fluffier hehehe

SERIES MASTERLIST

From Saturn to Mars. A long distance it seems. According to the math, it is made up of some complicated numbers. But when you look at it, when you hear it coming out of Jay's mouth, like a prayer, a carefully memorized poem, it seemed too close to be true.

It wouldn't be a lie if you said that you missed the times you had with Jay, two lost teenagers in the middle of summer, sipping away on cherry cokes and devising plans of the future. Now the future seemed too close, too quick. Too fast coming. It seemed that all those years you've spent yearning for this time, had faded away in the blink of an eye. And it all felt useless, as you saw Jay sleeping on the couch, arms folded and face tranquil as dew.

You quietly slipped out of his room, making sure to take all your belongings and leaving a note for Jay. He usually didn't sleep in, but it seemed that last night's shenanigans had worn him out. Your feet ached as you dragged yourself back to your room, trying to not to fall down in ghe elevator ride.

"Woah Y/N hey." The elevator doors opened on your floor to reveal Sunghoon, dressed elegantly in a purple suit. "Oh hey Hoonie." You smiled at him, taking the grateful hand he had offered and stepping out the elevator. Sunghoon gently guided you back to the door of your room.

"Oh I saw your assistant in the morning." Sunghoon sat down on the couch, as you plopped onto the one opposite him, "He was with Jay's assistant." You held your head in your hands and leaned back, basically sleeping on the couch. "They must have had fun last night, what with me spending the night in that asshole's room." You grumbled, as Sunghoon looked at you with pity.

"Sunoo told me about your agreement." He chuckled, "Somehow he managed to find out that you two aren't actually dating." Your eyes widened at Sunghoon's words. "Park Sunghoon if you even dare tell anyone-" "Oh shush you know I won't tell anyone." Sunghoon cut your words off, pouring himself a glass of water. You rolled your eyes and gently massaged your feet, wincing at the sunlight coming in from the open curtains. Dusty curtains, more like.

"You know in my amazing opinion-" Sunghoon suddenly started, "I think Jay actually likes you."

Sunghoon was thankful that you didn't have a knife in your premises, as you threw a pillow at him with surprising accuracy. "It's just an opinion!" Sunghoon defended himself as you prepared to throw another pillow. "A dumb opinion!" You threw the pillow anyway, this time time missing Sunghoon's head by an inch.

"Give me the evidence for your so called amazing opinion and I'll consider it." You crossed your arms and frowned, tapping your foot on the ground. Sunghoon stuck his tongue out at you and leaned back, crossing his arms in a similar manner.

"Girl come on." He raised a brow at you, "You really think a man who is just dating you for business purposes would defend you like that? Like he did last night? Most people would have just left it for you to solve out the pickle on your own." Your eyes softened at Sunghoon's words as you considered it for a moment. True, he had defended you in a way which most people wouldn't. It reminded you of the way he fought for you in ninth grade. The memory still brings a smile to your face, as you think back to the moment your bully's face was stuffed with mud, and how you and Jay ran all the way home, only to be caught by his mother.

"Still Hoonie. How do I assume he likes me just from that?" You drawled, feeling your stomach slightly grumble. It was already 9 in the morning and your breakfast usually came at 7. Sunghoon smiled at you and pulled out his phone, frantically scrolling through whatever content was open on his phone. "What in the hell are you doing Park Sunghoon." You groaned, lifting yourself up forcefully and dragging your body over to his seat to take a peak at his phone.

"I was going to come over to your seat but alright. Suit yourself then." He grumbled as you nudged closer to him, basically shoving him off of the couch. "Here." Sunghoon shoved the phone into your hands. The screen displayed a text conversation, which you peered to read because of Sunghoon's dangerously low screen light.

"Wait a minute-" you furrowed your brows in concentration as you read the contact name, "Jay Park? As in our Jay Park?" Sunghoon chuckled.

"You really didn't notice? Similar last names, pretty faces. He's my cousin." You widened your eyes as your jaw dropped in awe. You must have stared at Sunghoon for a long time before he snapped his fingers in front of you and directed your eyes back to the conversation.

"This is why I really believe he does like you." Sunghoon stated as your eyes fell upon the messages. Flowers, museums, perfumes, all conversations about your favourite things of which Jay was basically interrogating Sunghoon about.

"You should probably take a look at this one." Sunghoon scrolled down to the last message.

Jay - I think I'll tell her about how I truly feel today.

Your heart almost stopped as you read the message. 'Truly feel'? That sounded straight out of a cheesy 20's rom com.

"Well you should probably get going Y/Nnie." Sunghoon clapped his hands together, "He's planning to take you to the flower shops today."

The sunlight hit your face painfully through the open windows as you changed into new clothes. The idea of opening the curtains to quote unquote 'let some sunlight in', was definetly a bad one.

Jungwon had returned to your room in the morning, with his cheeks the colour of wine and his smile as bright as morning glory. His dimples were on wide display as he bowed to you and basically jumped onto a trampoline when you had asked him what had happened with Kayla.

His words of 'she asked for my number' and 'I am so in love with her Ma'am.' went over your head as your thoughts swivelled around what you saw in Sunghoon's messages. Getting the fact into your mind that your college best friend and the man who broke you into a million shards was a hard one. Getting the fact that Jay said 'about how he truly feels' to Sunghoon? Possibly the hardest thing you've ever had to stuff into your mind.

"Ma'am?" Jungwon peeked his head through the door as you ran through the last steps of your makeup, "Mr Park is here." With a pop of your lips, you got up from your seat and swung your bag around your shoulder, walking out the door to meet Jungwon. "Please tell me we don't have a meeting today." You sighed, taking the file he had handed you. Jungwon meekly shook his head as a blush crept up to his cheeks.

"What is it Jungwon? Your ears are bright red." You laughed, pointing at his tomato ears as you put your heels on. "Well I was wondering-" Jungwon began with his speech, "If you could allow me to stay out a little longer with Kayla today Ma'am? I-I really wanna make a good impression for her." You smiled gently at Jungwon's request and nodded your head, clapping your hand to his back in celebration. "Finally going to impress your mother with a girl eh?" You joked to which Jungwon's ears seemed to become less red.

You were dressed casually today, white sundress, draped with a beautiful golden chain with dangled from the crevices of your neck, drawing attention to your hair as well. Less sexier than what you had worn yesterday, you thought, but all for the best incase another 'emergency meeting' popped up.

"Y/N." Jay bowed as soon as you propped the door open. You nearly froze as you laid your eyes on him. Handsome seemed to have been a word unworthy of describing him at the moment as he fixed his watch slowly and adjusted his loose blue polo shirt. The marble white trousers he had on seemed to sharpen his curves even more, making him look like the Jay you yearned for years ago. It was a more casual look, one you'd wear for picking up a basket of bread, or accidentally stepping on the neighbour's cat's tail and apologizing to it frantically as your best friend looked on, laughing at you.

"Jay." You responded, realising that you had been staring at him for too long. If it hadn't been for Jay reaching behind his back, you wouldn't have seen Kayla quietly giggling and stealing glances at Jungwon behind you. You hid your smile in your heart, young love was always so sweet. Pity you never had it.

"Shall we go then?" Jay cleared his throat, as you reached your hand forward to enclose in his, making a clear motion for your little party to start moving downstairs.

An interesting day it would be, you thought, trying not to take in Jay's intoxicating perfume.

[theapprenticeofthanatos]

TAoT: Chapter 26: Ultimate Enemy: Part 6

Danny POV:

“Hello again, Daniel,” Clockwork greeted.

Danny brought his hands to his face and let out a frustrated growl. He did not have time for this.

“Look, I’m sure what you have to say is very interesting,” Danny acknowledged, struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice as his ghostly transformation washed back over him. “But I’m in a bit of a rush right now. I need to get home before—”

“Time is frozen,” Clockwork explained coolly. “Here, as well as in your timeline. Nothing will happen until you return. So relax,” Clockwork waved his hand, and a plush armchair appeared behind Danny. “Forget your worries for a time.”

“I can’t,” Danny argued. “Please, I—”

“Really,” Clockwork’s tone left no room for argument. “I insist.”

Danny opened his mouth to argue, but Clockwork brought his hand to Danny’s chest and shoved him. Danny stumbled backwards and fell into the armchair, while Clockwork elegantly sat down on a chair across from him. With another wave of his hand, a coffee table appeared, upon which sat a teapot and two cups with saucers.

“Tea?” Clockwork offered as he poured himself a cup. “It’s an herbal blend. Good for healing and relieving stress.”

Danny stared at the ghost in disbelief. “Are you fricking serious?”

“Absolutely.” Clockwork filled the other cup and placed it in front of Danny. “This tea was common in Ancient Greece.”

“Wha…? No, that’s not—gah!” Danny threw his hands up in frustration and stood up. “I’m outta here. See ya—”

Danny took a step forward, but suddenly he was back in his seat.

What? I… didn’t sit down.

He looked up at Clockwork in bewilderment. The ghost merely sipped his drink, looking as if nothing had even happened. Danny waited a moment, but Clockwork said nothing, so he stood up again.

And was immediately back in his seat.

Clockwork spoke up then. “I quite literally have all the time in the world to wait for you to calm down and listen.”

Danny stared at him dumbfoundedly. “Wait. Are you… doing this?” Danny gestured to his armchair.

Clockwork gave a noncommittal shrug. “Am I?”

Danny glared at Clockwork as he stood up a third time, took a step towards the ghost…

And was once again back in his seat.

Danny snarled in exasperation. “Do you really think you can keep me here?”

Clockwork placed his cup back on its saucer. “Yes.” He replied flatly. “Rather easily, in fact.”

Danny folded his arms with an angry grumble and looked away. He bristled with barely restrained anger as Clockwork took another long sip of his tea before setting the cup and saucer back on the table and leaning back in his chair.

“So, Daniel,” Clockwork steepled his fingers, and his appearance made Danny feel like he was in some sort of counselor’s office. “How are you feeling? Worried? Stressed, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Danny hissed. “I am very worried that my family is going to be murdered by me!”

“Hmm.” Clockwork nodded sagely. “That is a reasonable worry to have, but fear not. Remember, time will remain frozen until you return. They will not die while you are here.”

Danny wanted to argue, but it wasn’t like there was much he could really do. His attempts to escape so far had been unsuccessful, and Clockwork didn’t seem intent on letting him leave anytime soon. So he reluctantly slouched back in his chair and glared at Clockwork.

Clockwork met Danny’s angry look with an annoyingly neutral expression. “I imagine that today has been a bit… confusing for you.”

That’s an understatement. Danny thought to himself, but he nodded silently.

“As Master of Time, I am not supposed to interfere with matters concerning the natural progression of the timelines,” Clockwork explained. “However, I do not believe it would do any harm if I were to let you rest here for a moment, and let you ask some questions.”

“I don’t have any questions,” Danny insisted. “I just need to—”

“Oh?” Clockwork cut him off, his voice light and conversational. “No questions? Well, may as well have some tea, then. It’s getting cold.”

Danny had half a mind to once again get up and try to leave, but he knew it was unlikely he’d be able to take more than a couple of steps before he ended up back in the armchair. He wasn’t a big fan of tea, but he picked up the cup and held it in his hands. It was pleasantly warm. He stared down into the amber-colored liquid, and his reflection stared back up at him.

His eyes looked… normal, but the memory of his reflection in Vlad’s computer monitor came to his mind and he grimaced.

“Actually, I may have… one question.”

Clockwork didn’t say anything—he just looked at Danny expectantly, waiting for the halfa to continue.

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but faltered. He was going to sound like he was crazy. Heck, maybe he was.

After another moment of hesitation, Danny finally asked: “Is… my core having a voice… normal?”

His core squirmed uneasily in his chest at the words.

“For you, yes.” Clockwork answered. “It is normal.”

The confirmation didn’t bring Danny the relief that he thought it would. He placed a hand over his core, wincing as the action sent a dull ache through his chest where the medallion had once resided.

“So does that mean… my core is a separate being?” Danny questioned.

“No.” Came the short reply.

Danny looked up at the ghost, surprised. “But…”

Clockwork held up a hand, cutting Danny off. “Your core is you and you alone. In fact, it is your soul.”

Danny was somewhat taken aback by Clockwork’s answer. He had sort of always wondered what exactly a core was; his parents had plenty of theories, but none of them were particularly well-formed or thought out or confirmed by any sort of science. Before he had become a ghost, Danny hadn’t been sure he even believed in souls. He did now—he supposed he had to—but to actually have their existence confirmed was just… weird.

“So… my core, or soul, or whatever… is me?” Danny clarified.

Clockwork nodded.

“But… I didn’t think those thoughts,” Danny pointed out. “And the voice—”

“Is nothing to be worried about,” Clockwork finished. “Now, why did you ask about your core, Daniel?”

“… uhh, wait…” Danny said slowly. “But what about—”

“I will answer your questions in due time,” Clockwork assured him. “But for the moment, please answer mine.”

“Well… yeah,” Danny muttered begrudgingly after a long moment. “I’ve been… hearing a voice in my head. And Vlad—from the future—said that my… alternate self had started, like, going crazy and talking to himself before he… was… split in half. And I was worried that me hearing a voice meant that I was starting to become like my other self!” Danny’s voice rose as he struggled to voice the worries in his head.

Clockwork frowned thoughtfully. “Surely you have noticed some differences between you and your alternate self?”

Well, duh. Danny thought for a moment before answering; other than their rather obvious physical differences, what was different between them? “I mean, besides how different we look, I have never killed anyone.”

Danny’s core stirred and whispered uncertainly, as if it were disagreeing with him. Danny absently placed a hand over his chest again as he continued. “I would never kill anyone. And I’ve never even heard of the Oreo… orpheo-something, let alone seen or killed one.”

“Do you, perhaps, mean the Ophiotaurus?” Clockwork supplied.

“Yeah, that thing. I—I mean, my other self said that he killed it, and it gave him the power to… to kill gods.” Danny’s breath caught in his throat. “A-and he said that—that a demigod has to kill it to get that power, b-but I’m not a demigod, and—”

“Daniel,” Clockwork interrupted gently. “Breathe.”

The teacup fell from Danny’s grasp and shattered on the stone bricks as Danny closed his eyes and brought his hands to his temples, fighting to steady his rapid breathing. His core was whispering—whining almost anxiously as he took a deep breath and held it, before slowly letting it go.

No freaking out. Not right now.

… okay.

Danny took another deep breath, just to be sure he was calm, and opened his eyes. His gaze immediately landed on the broken teacup by his feet, and he winced.

“I’m… sorry about the mess,” Danny mumbled apologetically.

Clockwork held out his hand and twisted it, as if turning a doorknob. A blue light shimmered around the remnants of the teacup, and Danny watched in amazement as the pieces fitted themselves back together seamlessly. The teacup floated upwards and settled back on the table with a clink, as good as new and once again filled with steaming golden tea.

“No harm done,” Clockwork said easily. His expression was rather emotionless, but a hint of concern laced his voice as he asked, “How are you feeling, Daniel?”

Danny shrugged helplessly, his head propped up on his hands as he stared mopily at his feet. “Honestly… I’m very, very tired…”

“That is understandable. You have been through a lot recently.” There was a pause. “Daniel, may I ask you a question? In regards to what your alternate self said about the Ophiotaurus.”

“Sure,” Danny answered flatly, lifting his head to look at the ghost. “Knock yourself out.”

There was a twinkle in Clockwork’s eye and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he asked, “Did your alternate self ever say that the demigod had to be living?”

Danny thought for a moment, before slowly shaking his head. What was Clockwork getting at?

“Well then, perhaps a brief explanation of half-ghosts is in order.” Clockwork leaned forward in his chair.

“There are certain elements that are required for a half-ghost to come into existence. Not just any being could become such a perfectly balanced mix of life and death.” Clockwork explained. “For all the living matter within a body, there must be something… spectral, if you will, for the living matter to fuse with. For example, perhaps a portal to the Ghost Zone opened on a mortal and a lost core at the same time, and there was just the right amount of ectoplasmic energy to merge the two together into a new being. In exceptionally rare cases, perhaps the half-ghost was born naturally. Or perhaps,” there was a knowing glint to Clockwork’s eyes that unnerved Danny and sent a chill creeping down his spine and through his core. “A dying mortal had a portal form on top of them, and that mortal happened to have a past life that provided the perfect template for their current, living body to merge with the ecto-energy, creating a new being with perfect equilibrium. A being with memories both old and new, both lost and found, both forgotten… and remembered.”

Danny’s stomach flip-flopped as his core thrummed anxiously—or perhaps excitedly?—at Clockwork’s words. It was pretty obvious that the ghost was trying to hint at something, but… what? Was he hinting at how Danny had become a halfa? If so, which way had he…?

“Of course,” Clockwork continued, startling Danny out of his thoughts. “Half-ghosts of this sort are unique in the sense that they are sometimes able to remember their past lives. Oftentimes, a catalyst can help the half-ghost to remember their past. Sometimes that catalyst is something, or someone, important to them from their previous life.”

Danny had no idea what Clockwork was even talking about at this point, and he stared blankly at the ghost. The words made sense to him, but it was as if his brain was just refusing to process them at the moment. What did half-ghosts have to do with anything? Was Clockwork trying to tell Danny something about himself? About how he had become a halfa? Or what kind of halfa he was? Apparently there were different types of halfas? He was still struggling to process what had happened with his old enemies, and Demeter, and…

Danny dropped his hands from his face as he let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, but… I have no idea what you are trying to tell me right now. A lot has happened today and… my brain is fried.”

“That is quite alright, Daniel,” Clockwork assured him. “I did not expect you to understand it all just yet.”

“Then… why did you tell me all this now?” Danny asked bewilderedly.

“Because you will understand. In time.” Clockwork picked up the teapot and refilled his cup. “One day, you will look back on this conversation, and it will finally make sense to you.”

Danny just stared at the ghost yet again. Clockwork made no sense to him. It was like the ghost enjoyed speaking in riddles to confuse people. Danny’s gaze fell to the teacup in front of him, and he frowned. Clockwork had attacked him the first time they met (well, okay, Danny had started it), but now he was offering him tea? And chatting as if they were friends? Speaking of, Danny still had no idea what Clockwork had meant by “old friend.” One, he had never met this guy before. And two, Danny was pretty sure friends didn’t try to kill each other.

“Hey, Clockwork? Can I ask you a question?” Danny piped up after a minute or two of silence.

“What is it, Daniel?” Clockwork replied as he placed his cup back on its saucer.

“Why did you attack me? Back when I first showed up here. I mean, I kinda started it,” Danny admitted as he glanced away awkwardly. “But you said that you were supposed to, like, destroy me or… something.”

“Because a group of ghosts called the Observants ordered me to,” Clockwork answered. “You’ll be dealing with them yourself in the future.”

“What? Why would a group of ghosts I’ve never even met order you to kill me?!” Danny shouted.

“To prevent you from becoming your alternate self,” Clockwork responded, his face settling into a faint scowl.

His answer was like a knife through Danny’s core. So… was that it, then? No matter what Danny thought or did, he was going to become… that?

Please… no… I don’t want to… his core mumbled tearfully. Danny didn’t blame it; he felt the same way.

“So I’m just going to become him no matter what I do,” Danny muttered, his throat tight as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. “Are you going to… finish the job?” And if he was, should Danny just let him? He didn’t want to become that. He didn’t want to kill innocent people, he didn’t—

“No, I am not,” Clockwork said with a shake of his head, much to Danny’s surprise. “That would be counterintuitive to keeping the integrity of the timeline, after all.”

“ …what?” Danny sniffled as he swiped at his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, Daniel, is that your alternate self, as he is now, was never meant to exist.” Clockwork revealed. “It was through the influences and beguilings of the goddess Gaea that your alternate self became who he is now.”

“Gae—” Danny started to repeat, but Clockwork quickly held his finger to his lips in a gesture of silence.

“I may say her name, but you cannot.” Clockwork warned. “Lest you draw unwanted attention.”

“Uhh… okay?” Danny said slowly, confused. “Why? Wait, is it ‘cause names draw attention or something?”

Clockwork nodded.

“Then… why can you say her name?” Danny countered.

“That,” Clockwork stressed. “Is a topic for another time.”

“Okay, then why did… she do that?” Danny asked instead. “Why did she… influence him? Me? … him?”

“Gaea sees mortals as mere pawns, and has no qualms with using them for her needs. Your alternate self’s life is not the only one she has disrupted. Unfortunately, I can’t really tell you much else,” Clockwork said regrettably.

“But… but you said that we have all the time in the world to talk,” Danny pointed out indignantly. “So talk!”

“I know what I said,” Clockwork stated calmly. “But there are matters that you are not yet privy to, that we cannot yet discuss.”

Danny scowled. “But—”

“The future,” Clockwork cut him off smoothly, and the warning tone of his voice sent a chill down Danny’s spine that made it clear there would be no more discussion on the matter. “Is not for you to know.”

The two ghosts sat there for a long moment, in almost deafening silence. Danny wasn’t really sure how to respond. Was Clockwork mad at him?

But that didn’t seem to be the case. Clockwork clapped his hands together, breaking the heavy silence as he gave Danny a friendly smile. “So, do you have any other questions?”

“That you can answer?” Danny snarked, albeit rather hesitantly, as he was somewhat put off by Clockwork’s sudden change in demeanor.

Clockwork gave a sympathetic shrug, but Danny could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You won’t know unless you ask.”

Danny leaned back in his chair as he mulled over the information he’d received so far. The Ophiotaurus… Halfas… He didn’t have the mental energy to think about either of those right now. And then he had learned that there was a group called the Observants that wanted him dead. Neat.

“Can you tell me more about the Observants?” Danny asked hopefully.

“Not much,” Clockwork admitted. “Like I said, you’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Okay…” Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Why did you listen to them? When they told you to kill me. Why didn’t you just say no?”

“Because if I had refused, then they would’ve taken matters into their own hands,” Clockwork explained with a sigh of annoyance. “And your timeline would have been fractured from their meddling. Besides, I didn’t attack you like they wanted me to. Believe me,” Clockwork’s eyes flickered dangerously. “If I had truly wanted to get rid of you, you would never have even had a chance to react.”

Well then.

“Uhh… thank you…?” Danny said awkwardly, unsure of what he should say.

Clockwork looked a bit surprised by Danny’s response, but then he chuckled. “Of course.”

The room fell quiet for a brief moment as Danny thought of what else to ask. “Why are you doing this, anyway?” He gestured at the teapot and the teacups on the table. “Why are you helping me? I thought you said you weren’t supposed to interfere.”

“I’m not doing anything except making sure that everything plays out as it should,” Clockwork responded. “Besides, I am merely returning a favor.”

Danny stared at the ghost in confusion. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stated bluntly.

Clockwork chuckled again. “You will.”

Danny was still confused, and he opened his mouth to ask Clockwork what he meant, but the ghost suddenly froze. His brow furrowed, he frowned as he set down his teacup and pulled off his right glove, revealing…

“You have an apprentice?!” Danny shouted in disbelief.

Clockwork didn’t answer, his attention fully focused on the silver letters on his right forearm. His frown deepened as he ran the fingers of his left hand over the characters, obscuring them and making it so that Danny couldn’t read what they said.

“My apologies, Daniel, but I'm afraid you must leave now,” Clockwork finally said. “Something has happened with my apprentice that requires my immediate attention.”

“But…” Danny began, but he trailed off as Clockwork gave him a look that made it clear he wasn’t joking around. “Uhh, okay…?”

Danny and Clockwork stood up, and Clockwork raised his hand. A woosh came from behind Danny, and when he turned around his armchair was gone, replaced by a large blue portal.

“That will take you back to your place,” Clockwork informed him. “And your time. Amity Park, 2008.”

Danny nodded again, only half paying attention as he was still trying to catch a glimpse of Clockwork’s forearm.

“Daniel.”

Danny froze before sheepishly meeting Clockwork’s gaze. The ghost gestured to the portal, his expression… his eyes were still worried, but as he gave Danny a small, encouraging smile, Danny would say that Clockwork almost looked amused.

“Get going.”

Danny nodded once more before turning back to the portal. It was time. He had to do this. He had to fight Dan. He didn’t feel like he could do this, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.

As Danny stepped into the portal, he glanced back over his shoulder, and this time Clockwork’s hand was moved, leaving his mark uncovered and legible against his blue skin.

Φάντασμα.

Phantom.

Before Danny could even begin to question that, Clockwork caught his gaze. The ghost’s expression was one that Danny couldn’t place, but he gave the halfa a small nod.

“Good luck.”

.

Jazz POV:

.

“Uggh… my head…” Jazz groaned as she opened her eyes. The room around her was fairly small and dark, but as her blurry vision cleared she saw buckets, spray bottles, a mop, and various other cleaning supplies. Her head throbbed as she got to her feet and tried the door. It was unlocked, and opened out into one of the Casper High school hallways.

Why had she been in the janitor’s closet? How had she gotten into the janitor’s closet? The last thing she remembered was standing outside the door to Mr. Lancer’s classroom, with the Fenton Peeler in her hand, and then…

Jazz looked frantically around the closet for the Fenton Peeler. “Please, oh please don’t be… aha!” She reached down and pulled out the Fenton Peeler from where it had fallen under the shelves.

With her weapon back in hand, Jazz rushed out the door, nearly crashing into the janitor as she did so. She started down the hall with a hasty shout of “sorry!” over her shoulder as she ran back towards Mr. Lancer’s classroom.

What time was it? Were the students still taking the test? She needed to stop Evil Danny before—

The door to the classroom swung open right as Jazz was reaching for the doorknob, and she narrowly avoided bumping into Mr. Lancer.

“Oh!” The teacher looked surprised by her arrival. “Hello, Jasmine. What are you doing here so late?”

“Late?” Jazz repeated, feeling disoriented. “W-what time is it?”

Mr. Lancer frowned as he glanced at his watch. “It’s just after 4:30. The test was over hours ago. You didn’t even have class today.”

“I…” Jazz brought a hand to her aching head. Had she passed out? What had happened to her? She remembered looking through the door window and making eye contact with Evil Danny as she reached for the doorknob… His eyes had flashed red, and then… she’d woken up in the janitor’s closet. He must’ve stopped her, somehow. “I was looking for Danny,” she finally answered.

“Ahh,” the disdain in Mr. Lancer’s voice was obvious. “Mr. Fenton. Well, I regret to inform you that he’s not here. He was the first student to turn in his test, and then he was out the door, off to gallivant about the streets like a hooligan.”

Jazz’s heart sank. She had missed her chance. Evil Danny could be anywhere by now, doing who knows what. Oh, gosh, had he gone after her parents? What if—

“In fact,” Mr. Lancer tapped a stack of papers in his hand, pulling Jazz from her thoughts. “I just need to drop these papers off at the front office and then I’ll be heading over to the Nasty Burger to meet with Daniel and your parents, to discuss… Daniel’s disappointing lack of academic integrity.”

Jazz remembered Mr. Lancer mentioning that when they spoke yesterday. She had hoped to talk to Danny about it all when he got home, but… her Danny hadn’t come home.

And she had to make sure that no one else ran into the other Danny.

Thinking quickly, Jazz ripped the papers from Mr. Lancer’s hand and sprinted down the hall before he even had a chance to react. She winced as he yelled after her, “War and Peace! Miss Fenton, what are you doing?!”

Jazz glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. Lancer running after her—well… hurrying after her; she wasn’t quite sure it could be described as running.

She paused at the end of the hallway, unsure of what she should do next—she honestly hadn’t thought this far ahead. She looked wildly around her; there were lockers, trash cans, a drinking fountain, an open window…

“Miss Fenton!”

Out of time to think, Jazz threw the papers out the window, and they scattered like confetti on the school grounds as she sprinted through the foyer and out the front doors of the school. She hoped that that would delay Mr. Lancer and buy her at least a little time to get to the Nasty Burger before him, and stop Evil Danny before it was too late. She would deal with the earful from Mr. Lancer later.

Jazz pulled her keys from her pocket as she ran across the parking lot, unlocked her car, and hopped in. She pulled out her phone as she started her car, tossing the Fenton Peeler into the passenger’s seat as she called Sam.

Sam picked up on the first ring.

“Jazz, what happened?!” the goth shouted. “We saw you at the door, but then you disappeared!”

“Yeah, what was that about?! I thought you said you were going to take care of him!” Tucker added.

Jazz watched through her rearview mirror as Mr. Lancer exited the school and walked around to the courtyard, likely to go gather his papers. “I said that I had a plan,” she corrected.

“And what happened to that plan?” Sam asked, a little calmer.

“What do you think happened?” Jazz snapped.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Jazz sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry for snapping at you two. It’s been a pretty stressful day for me.”

“Yeah, it’s been the same for us, Jazz,” Tucker sympathized. “I mean, look at who we’ve been stuck with the past couple of days.”

“So, what’s your plan now?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Jazz admitted. “But I think it would be better if we met up. Where are you guys?”

“Patrolling,” Tucker answered.

“Looking for Evil Danny,” Sam clarified.

“Where are you guys now?” Jazz put her car into gear and pulled out onto the street.

Jazz turned onto Main Street. She immediately saw Sam and Tucker waiting for her on the sidewalk, so she pulled up to the curb and waited for the two young teens to get in the car.

“Have you two seen Danny? Our Danny?” Jazz all but demanded once Sam and Tucker were both seated.

The teens only shook their heads.

“Do you have any idea where he could be?” Jazz asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Tucker shook his head again as Sam answered. “We haven’t seen him since we left the future.”

Jazz thought about her note, hoping against hope that it had somehow reached Danny. But even if it had, that didn’t mean that he had found a way back. Yet. “So… I guess we’re on our own for this.”

“Looks like it,” Tucker muttered dejectedly. “Besides, even if we somehow take down Evil Danny, what then? What if our Danny never comes back?”

Sam whirled on Tucker. “Do not say that. He will come back.”

“Hey, I never said he wouldn’t.” Tucker held up his hands placatingly. “I’m just saying what if—”

“Forget the what-ifs, Tuck!” Sam shouted with a glare.

Now Tucker was getting frustrated. “But what if—”

“What if you shut up?!” Sam interrupted.

“Enough!” Jazz shouted, her voice far too loud in the small, enclosed space. Silence reigned as Jazz took a deep breath before speaking again. “Look, it has been a long and stressful day for all of us, but that doesn’t mean we should be jumping down each other’s throats.”

Sam and Tucker sheepishly looked away from each other.

“Now.” Jazz settled back into her seat. “Does anyone have a plan for dealing with Evil Danny?”

It was just after 5 P.M. when Jazz, Sam, and Tucker arrived at the Nasty Burger. Sam and Tucker leapt out of the car before it even came to a stop, running towards the group standing in front of the restaurant. Jazz saw Mr. Lancer, her parents, and…

“Evil Danny,” she hissed under her breath.

Jazz turned off the car and opened the door, making sure to grab the Fenton Peeler before she got out and slammed the door shut. She activated the Fenton Peeler, and began to run as soon as its armor had finished forming around her. As she neared the group, she could hear Mr. Lancer shouting.

“South Beach Diet, people! What’s going on here?!”

“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” Jazz proclaimed, coming to a stop just feet from her parents and Evil Danny. Her parents turned to her with looks of shock, while Evil Danny looked angry.

“Jazz? What are you doing out of bed?” Maddie exclaimed.

Jazz didn’t answer her mother. Instead, she leveled the Fenton Peeler at Evil Danny’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

Evil Danny was barely even staggered by the energy blast, but the Peeler did its job. His face contorted in pain as his skin began to crack and flake, and it reminded Jazz of a snake shedding its dead skin, revealing the predator inside.

The adults in the group gasped in shock and horror as the ghost fell to its hands and knees, smoke rising from its skin as the charred remains of its disguise fell to the pavement. The two younger teens gave each other looks of grim determination as Jazz stepped forward and pointed accusingly at the specter.

“That’s not Danny!” Jazz announced triumphantly.

Jazz’s parents recovered from their shock quickly. They both pulled ecto-guns from their belts and immediately trained them on Evil Danny, who hadn’t yet made an attempt to stand up.

“Where is he?” Jack demanded angrily. “Where’s our son?!”

“What have you done with our boy?!” Maddie cried.

Evil Danny’s shoulders began to quiver, and Jazz smirked. Why had she even been worried? Her parents were two of the world’s greatest ghost hunters. With her parents standing over him, their weapons drawn, of course he would be shaking in his boots.

But then she heard it. A low, gravelly chuckle, and she realized…

No, he wasn’t shaking in fear.

He was laughing.

Evil Danny looked up at Maddie, his red eyes glowing bright and dangerous.

“I am your boy!” He hissed.

Before anyone could react, the ghost shot into the air, glaring cruelly down at them.

“What kind of parents are you, anyway?” He sneered. “The world’s leading ghost experts, and yet you couldn’t figure out your own son was half-ghost!”

Crap.

Jazz looked at her parents with wide eyes. They looked too stunned to speak. That was… an okay reaction. At least they didn’t seem upset. She and Danny would have to deal with the aftermath of that reveal later. After they—or she—took down Danny’s evil self.

“I mean, hellooo?” Evil Danny rolled his eyes. “Did you really never find it odd that all of your inventions always targeted, locked onto, or worked on me? Every. Single. One of them. Did you really never think about it? And then all the similarities… all the convenient excuses… I mean, it was so obvious, that it’s a small wonder I was even able to keep my secret identity, well,” Evil Danny chuckled. “A secret.”

“Liar!” Jack snapped, his hands and voice shaking with rage as he aimed his gun at the ghost. “Don’t move!”

“Actually,” Evil Danny countered, baring his fangs in a malevolent smile. “Nobody’s going anywhere. Not until it’s time for you to be blown everywhere.”

He raised his hand, and it flared to life with green ectoplasm. He flung his arm out in front of him, sending out a wave of ectoplasm that hit Mr. Lancer, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz’s parents, wrapping around them in thick strands that pinned their arms to their sides and sent the group flying backwards into one of the sauce vats, gluing them to its side. They began to scream and yell, but the ghost merely pointed at them, and globs of ectoplasm shot from his fingers, gagging and silencing them all almost instantly.

Evil Danny landed a few feet in front of Jazz, his back to her. Had he forgotten she was there? If so, then now was her chance to strike! Jazz pulled her arm back as she ran towards him. Aiming for the middle of his back, Jazz threw her fist forward with all of her might. And…

Her fist went straight through him.

Evil Danny cackled. Jazz felt bile rise in her throat as he turned his head completely around like an owl, and she winced at the sound of his bones cracking.

“Oh, Jazz,” Evil Danny tutted. “That was pathetic, even for you.”

The ghost turned to her, and Jazz didn’t even have time to run before her helmet was ripped off her head and her arms were pinned to her sides by the same ectoplasmic goo that bound everyone else. She screamed and quickly found herself gagged.

“Now, now, Jazz. There’s no need for that.” Evil Danny grabbed Jazz by the neck of her chestplate and slung her into the rubble of the Nasty Burger.

Jazz couldn’t even scream as she flew through the air, and she slammed into the sauce vat where the others were currently trapped. She blinked away the spots in her eyes, and began to struggle once she saw Evil Danny starting to walk towards them. But the ectoplasm around her torso held tight, and it had glued her to the searing hot metal of the sauce vat behind her. Tears filled Jazz’s eyes; this was it, wasn’t it? She had failed, and Danny wasn’t back, and now they were all going to be—

“Aww,” Evil Danny crooned, his tone mocking and cruel. “Don’t cry, everyone. You’re all giving your lives for a greater cause.”

Evil Danny turned away then and strode out into the middle of the empty street, where he raised his hands high and turned his face up towards the sky. “Do you hear me now, Gaea?!” He shouted, his voice booming through the abandoned clearing. “You said you’d never leave me! Not like my mother, not like my father… and you won’t.”

He turned back to them, a deranged look in his eyes. “I’ll burn these sacrifices for you, and then you’ll see. You’ll see that I don’t need them. You’ll see that I have what it takes. That I’m not weak. You’ll see that you need me! You’ll—”

Evil Danny’s crazed monologue was cut off by a black-and-white blur crashing into his side, sending him sprawling across the street.

Tears filled Jazz’s eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy as her little brother came to the rescue.

“Stay away from my family, maláka.” Danny—the real Danny—growled as he landed in front of the Nasty Burger.

First: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 25

Next: Chapter 27

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

You bounced your leg the entire journey, so much so that Ghost had made several comments about you shaking the car so much that you were giving him motion sickness. 

But you were nervous, going into a public place without the protection of your mask, your face in full view of everyone – a room full of the known enemy. 

Soap had placed a comforting hand on your knee, which helped a little, but not enough.

When you pulled up to the venue, your jaw dropped.

It was beautiful; a grand mansion in the middle of Las Almas. White, marbled walls and stair cases, spotlights all the way up to the golden double doors. The place was trawling with masked security holding a magnitude of automatic weapons. 

"Fucking hell..." you whispered, grabbing onto Soap's hand tightly.

"Hey, we're gonna be fine, pet."

Ghost turned from the front seat, leaning in to the two of you.

"Here are your comms, don't let anyone see."

You took the first, slipping it into your hair covered ear, Soap following your actions.

"6-2, checking in." you mumbled.

"7-1, checking in."

"Shadow 1 reading you loud and clear. Let's do this." Graves answered.

With one final nod from Ghost, you and Soap exited the vehicle, and his arm tightly wound around your waist as you ascended the steps to the doors.

Time to put on a show.

Wordlessly, you handed the doorman your invitation, Soap squeezing your side tightly as the two guards shamelessly took in your appearance.

"What is your purpose here?" they asked, patting the two of you down.

"My name is Natalia Belyaev, I am the daughter of billionaire investor Dmitri Belyaev." you said in your perfect accent, eyes narrowing as the man in front of you stooped down to pat your legs.

"So, I suggest you take your hands off my ass before I have you shot against a post."

"Easy, Reaper." Ghost chuckled into the comms, "Let's not massacre just yet."

"My apologies, miss."

The grand doors opened, revealing a reception room full of people, dressed to the 'nines. You recognised some of the people there, having seen many of their faces on various terrorist watchlists. 

"6-2 to 0-7, there are hundreds of wanted terrorists here."

"Stay on target, Price. We've got 'em."

"Thermal imaging and software ready to go for the signal." Graves said.

Moving elegantly around the room on Soap's arm, you faked pleasantries with many, enduring the disgusting flirting with most of the men in the room. The two of you observed for well over an hour before locating any sign of the office.

As you chugged down your fourth glass of Champaign, desperate to calm your nerves, Soap moved in front of you, pulling you flush against his chest, lips grazing your ear.

"Soap what the fuck-"

"Voice down, the guy in the corner won't stop watching you."

Sure enough, when you embraced Soap to get a good look over his shoulder, there was a man, eyes locked on you. 

"Are you made?" Ghost said, with what sounded like concern.

"Negative, just think he might be interested in our little assassin here."

Soap didn't let you go just yet, feeling a little apprehensive and protective, which gave you an unsuspicious opportunity to examine that side of the room. The man locked eyes with you, giving you a nod, before raising his head to look up at the balcony.

You followed his gaze, seeing a set of marble stairs, cut off with a red rope. At the top, two armed guards stood, and a door sat to their left.

The office.

"It's Ale's informant. Laswell must have told him what I'd be wearing."

"Are you sure?" Ghost asked.

You rolled your eyes, "Well he's just shown me where the office is, so I'd say I'm pretty damn sure, L.T."

"Graves, get ready on that hacking device." Soap instructed, not waiting for a response before guiding the two of you closer.

As you approached the staircase, the guards pointed their guns at you, muttering that the floor was off-limits to guests. Issuing a flirty apology, you walked away, being sure to swing your hips dramatically.

At that moment, the band began playing, and the floor cleared. A quick, Spanish beat was being plucked. Around the room, men picked up women, bringing them into the space, locking you and Soap right in the middle.

They were playing the fucking Tango.

People began dancing around you, dipping, twirling, moving rapidly to the beat. You and Soap looked at each other, seeing no way off the dancefloor. 

"Shit! Do you dance?" you whispered, standing close.

"I'm from Scotland!"

"What, they don't have dancing in Scotland?"

"Steamin' jesus, don't fuckin' tell anyone about this."

"About wha-"

Before you could protest, Soap dipped you down, bringing your leg up to his hip delicately. His eyes never looked away from your shocked ones as he gracefully threw you around the dancefloor. 

Ghost, confused, watched from the small tablet in his hand. He could see Soap tossing you around like a ragdoll to the music. 

"Ya need to get up to that fuckin' office, I've been sat here for over an hour."

"Well, we need a distraction!" you pleaded.

"Then make one."

You growled, frustrated with Ghost's impatience and complete unwillingness to be useful.

In all honesty, with most of the guests dancing, it was a pretty big distraction. The only problem was the armed guards at the top of the stairs. That was, until Alejandro's informant ran over to them.

You couldn't quite hear what he said, but he spoke in such frantic Spanish that the two guards sprung into action, following him through the room. As he passed the two of you, he shot you a wink, and you took that as opportunity to go.

"This is 6-2, it's go time."

Rushing up the stairs with Soap on your tail, you burst into the room, slipping off your heels as you hopped to the desk.

Soap closed the door, locking it and then wedging a chair under the handle. Looking out the window, he saw commotion on the dancefloor, with Alejandro's informant pointing to someone. He watched in horror as the man he pointed to was thrown violently over the table, punch and glass going everywhere.

"Okay, we got about 5 minutes before someone comes a'knockin."

"Shit." you pulled the memory stick out of your shoe, "Graves, I need you. Start now!"

"On it, darlin'."

You sat on the seat, Soap leaning over you as you watched the computer light up, black screen with rolls and rolls of green code flashing.

"Alright, stick it in."

You did as told, shoving the memory stick into the port, "Okay, go!"

"Initialising data transfer."

A green bar appeared, indicating that the transfer had began. There was nothing you and Soap could do now but wait. 

"Ghost? You still got eyes on us, right?" you asked.

"Affirm."

"So, you saw Soap do the Tango?" you smirked, looking up at him.

"I did."

"You recorded it to show everyone else, right?"

There was no silence for a moment, until a low chuckle came through the comms, "Fuck yeah I did."

You burst into giggles, Soap groaning in embarrassment.

But that was cut short.

The thumps of boots could be heard on the step, and with swift movement, Soap was peering out of the window.

"Fuck! They're coming!"

You turned back to the computer, leg bouncing as the number went up slower, and slower...

94%...95%...96%...97%

"It's not gonna be done in time!" you exclaimed running a hand through your hair.

The guards were mere steps away now. You looked around panicked, while Soap moved the chair from the handle. You heard mumbles from outside, one of the guards saying that he'd heard movement.

98%.

"Do you trust me?" Soap said, pulling you up.

"Yes?" you said, confused.

99%.

"S'good. I'm really sorry for this."

You looked at him, but before you could utter a word, his hands slid around your waist, slamming your body into his, and his lips fell on yours.

Oh no. Oh fucking no.

Despite yourself, and what ever the fuck you were feeling for Ghost, you knew Soap's thinking was quick, and might actually work.

You threw your arms over his shoulder, deepening the kiss, sliding your leg through the elegant slit on your dress and up his body, sitting it above his belt. It was heated, Soap's hands running all over your body as you clutched at his clothes, and you could feel your face burn, knowing most of the squad could both see and hear you.

The door was being banged on, every boom making your body jump.

"S'alright, this'll work." Soap mumbled into your mouth.

"It fucking better."

The lock shattered, making the door swing open to reveal the two guards from before. The light from the hall shined into the room, illuminating you and Soap.

In that position, it was no secret to what you were supposed to be doing. Your face was flushed, hair messy. Deep red lipstick was smudged around both your mouths. 

Yeah, if you walked in on this, you'd be walking straight out, blushing.

"100%. Get the hell outta there." Graves said in your ear.

"Oh, my, so sorry. How embarrassing!" you said, clambouring off of Soap.

You reached behind you, yanking the memory stick out, and ran around the room to put your shoes back on.

Pulling your dress down, you stumbled over to the guards, who were stiff with shock.

"I am so sorry," you flirted, pushing your breasts together, "me and my bodyguard, well, you know how it is. We just needed a little privacy."

"I-it's quite alright, Miss Belyaev. Please, go." one stuttered out, moving to let you pass.

"Why thank you, boys. Such gentlemen." you said, tugging at their collars, your fingers lingering.

"If you'd like a reward, come and find me later." you winked, passing them by.

Soap grabbed your hand, yanking you down the steps, leaving the guards blushing messes from your proposition. He held you close, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Christ, (Y/N), did ye have to wear so much lipstick?"

"No one told you to kiss her, sergeant." Graves voice came, not hiding his anger.

The two of you snorted, walking with a quickened pace to get out of the building as soon as possible. With a quick scan of the room, you could see that Alejandro's informant was nowhere to be seen.

Back in the car, Ghost was white-knuckling the tablet so hard, he thought he might break it.

What the fuck was that?

His breathing was heavy and irregular, his heart beating out of his chest. He wanted to shoot Laswell for insisting on thermal imaging capture. He didn't need to see that. He didn't need to see his, well, the closest thing he had to a best friend all over girl he had feelings for. 

The first girl in over ten years to break through his barrier.

Luckily, he didn't need to distract himself, as around 6 armed guards jogged past the window. 

Right. 

Professional.

"Soap, somethin's going on. Get out o' there."

"We're coming, L.T. 30 seconds away."

Ghost looked out of the window to see you and Soap hand in hand, bombing it down the steps. You were barefoot, tossing the heels aside as you clutched the memory stick.

His heart lurched up into his chest as the doors burst open, and the popping of gunfire polluted the air. You had screamed, dropping to the floor, Soap throwing his body on yours as the two of you rolled down the last few steps. 

Alejandro's car screeched to a halt behind, Rudy jumping out to throw Soap into the car before they sped off.

Ghost swung open the door, shooting three of the guards down before picking you up, and tossing you into the back seat before climbing in himself, and stepping on the pedal.

"Are you hit?"

"N-no, I'm good." you panted, fear in your eyes.

"Get changed, they're following." he said, tossing a duffel at you.

You frantically zipped it open, pulling out the contents - boots, trousers, shirt, knife. Not even bothering to cover yourself up, you did your best to get changed as Ghost sped through the back lanes of Las Almas.

Lights flashed behind, and a scream ripped through you once again as bullets littered the car, shattering the glass.

"I can't lose 'em, we're gonna have to run for it!"

"What? We have no defence!"

"Just fucking do it!"

With that, Ghost rammed the car through an opening in the woods, throwing you into the door with a hard slam. The car bounced over downed trees, speeding through the greenery until Ghost stopped the car, hopping out and running to your side.

"C'mon, we gotta go." he said, hands dragging you from the car.

You were barely upright before he was pulling you deeper into the woods. You reached into your ear to communicate with the team, only to find it empty.

Shit.

You were completely alone in this now.

The car got smaller as you rushed through the woods, Ghost occasionally looking back to make sure you were following, and to shoot bullets past you at the men who'd managed to stay on your trail.

He had to keep you alive. 

No matter how conflicted his heart was, you had to live.

You just had to.

[theoutlawfaleena]

more with tattoo sniper reader and König because I CAN. i doubt that he’s mean to you, just more uptight and professional. he’s obviously jealous an uuuh what’s the word ENVIOUS YEAH THAT he’d think “why cant i be like that and do cool trick shots😕”. you think nothing of him being real professional because you work in a serious field after all, but after you try to get on his good side and have a convo with him, you start to suspect the resilience when he always cuts its short or makes an excuse(petty brat). you go to other sources to get any clues about why König is acting like this when one person mentions that he first applied to be a sniper but was denied. you connect the pieces together: König saying “it’s better off in his hands”, the slight roll of his eyes when you make a perfect shot, him being denied as a sniper…. holy fuck he’s jealous. of you. you would not have thought that someone who’s reserved, relatively polite, and a solid soldier would be petty towards you. for being a sniper. you decide to keep this realization to yourself, you don’t want to make things possibly worse with König.

now to the tattoo part😁😁 the first time König sees yours is when your ambushed. everyone has taken cover, trying to take the enemies down without getting hit first, and it just so happens that König is right beside you! you have your sniper positioned, taking each opponent down one by one, keeping your eyes forward. König has his focus somewhere else. He’s studying the way you lean your head to the side, one eye shut, and how you move so quickly but almost elegantly to reload. something catches his eye, a flash that makes itself known between the edge of your sleeve and your glove. König panics for a minute, thinking that you might have been hit, until he looks closer. it’s a mark, it looks small, but it’s obviously connected to something bigger, he notices. König sees the multiple lines, some look faded more than others, it reminds him of a photo collage. you have tattoos, he realizes. he has so many wonders, about it now. do they have special meanings? do you have more somewhere else? where are they? he huffs the last thought away and resumes to what he’s supposed to be doing. he probably doesn’t know that you’ve felt his stare the entire time. (that was so long i’m so sorry😭) -⭐️

IT IS CURRENTLY 6AM AND MY SLEEPY BRAIN IS BARELY PROCESSING THIS BUT HNNGHGBGN..... HIM BEING SO INTERESTED IN UR TATTOOS THAT HE GOES OUT OF HIS WAY TO ASK U ABOUT THEM EVEN THO UR DEFINITELY NOT HIS FAVORITE PERSON RN.... U BEING SO CONFUSED AS TO WHY HE EVEN CARES..... CATCHING HIM STARING AT THEM AT POINTS IN THE DAY...... GYHAGDHSFD

[eviltiddyproductions]

Vincenzo : Episode 1

Oh my god STOP this title card is saurrrrr good

It is giving me the nostalgia of old crime thrillers which used to have these quiet , animated and wonderful title cards.

his hair are styled to the T my god, not a strand displaced. my dumbass wants to ruffle it a little.

and just like that an entire building is down 🫨

all of the shots up until now have been so pleasing to me. the cinematography is so unserious hot!? mind you, I'm four minutes in. 💀

the random ass vertical shot just as i said this

i thought he was the mafia boss? he's a lawyer

the shots are so beautiful HELP

Ohhhh, his boss is dead.

lmao the man just casually eating pasta. that's an Italian baby 🇮🇹

this man is so busy chowing down on that pasta that he cannot see the threat sitting in front of his table

did Netflix change its subtitles again (since i saw this happen with alchemy of souls i have never recovered my trust in them) like i can read! let them be

throw the pasta in this racist's face vince!!!

[foreboding music]

'regret is the most painful thing one can experience in life' bars! saying this before you kill someone and you're giving them a chance is funny but still bars

all of that blatant racism and heat for Vincenzo but can't handle 3 sentences said in Korean

i knew they were going to burn everything as soon as I saw the damn plane 😭

the driver liked that 😂

the score mixed with the silence is actually so good

not a second has been wasted as of it. it's been so pleasing on the eyes

yes!!! snap and kill that cigarette #real #lungsareourfriends

got out of that bathroom so elegantly to kill everybody 😭😭😭

Adrenaline playing let me just

no way they cut to a scene this cute WHO IS SHE I LOVE HER

lmaooo where is this discussion going, is she trying to strongarm him? gotta be the most adorable way I've ever seen

LMFAOOOO she is deadass singing Für Elise while making him take out the cake topper 😂

a string of money coming out she is so unserious 💀✋

wait I know this man

it's candy in my ear !!! cutie !!!

I LOVE HER

Do Bong Soon's dad and Itaewon class villain! Him being here... will this be a hit or a miss 😟

he's mad because she's working for the enemy, it's giving Itaewon Class

I still find it fun as of yet though

lmao is this emotional blackmail. ah we both clocked it 😂

cutieeee

i just watched xo kitty before this so this man getting a free taxi is so funny when my girl was running for her life in Korea when she got out of the airport

lmaooo not this limo man being a kidnapper

he's got really pretty eyelashes

[sinister laugh continues] 💀

honestly kidnappers accidentally kidnapping someone from the mafia is a storyline i can always get behind. you deserve each other!

the old man from alchemy of souls!

[ominous music playing]

superiors being lax after getting an important tip from a junior once again before impending doom

the way i already know what's going to happen to taecyeon like let me not get attached

His hair are so poofy and cute let me run a hand through them 😭

my man who burned like 7000 acres and contributed to 100% of climate change just got kicked in the face and knocked out cold by two casual robbers 😭

a true homecoming

i did not expect this show to be funny

speaking in lower tones with pauses so we know for sure that they're the bad guys doing a business deal

flower of evil detective?!! they really picked one person from each of the 5 kdramas I've watched 💀

he's having the worst day one can have in a new country 😂

the dramatic ass Italian music playing

the piano player 😂 oh wow the tenants of this building are something

lmaooo Vince having the weirdest day in Korea after having an intense I’m the shit, fear me moment in Italy is sending meeee

what is going on in this building

awoop monk jump scare

how does he look THAT good in a blue shirt

lmaooo the chef

everytime water goes out in foreign serials the south asian in me wants to beg people to just keep one bucket in their bathrooms just in case!

do not burn yourself king

the shower doing its own concert with breakdance slay

freezing water is always better than getting burnt by hot water 😭

he gets my pigeon hate omg they’re always outside your window !!!! doing the most 😡

leave sir 🐦 omg don’t use your phone !!

is that his mom? free us from the dumbass narrative of mom leaving child for adoption as heartless. y’all hate women and don’t get it at all

she is correct! this is literally not relevant and y’all are just trying to rile hate for her here. he’s teary eyed. oh no she worked for an abuser ?!!! let her TALK

MOTHER I WILL AVENGE YOU

wait isn’t that lawyer our girl?

eugh annoying perverts. stop taking pictures of strangers challenge failed

get them aunty!

okay opera chef !!! lmaooo the dramatic music playing in this show gets me 💀

nawww he made the chef cry 😭

I'm bonding hard to every 3rd character on the screen like why is the conversation between lawyer dad and mom wrongly in jail making me soft

I know it's actors being actors but I'm so happy to see laywer dad ( Yoo Jae Myung) be soft again. I was ready to fight through the screen with him in Itaewon class.

I love the Mr. Cho actor so much. He truly has the funniest expressions. 😂

NOOOO Mr. Cho. Oh this is nasty

lmao is her dad emancipating from her

#saveMrCho omg

NO NO NO NO NO you cannot do this to me

I am suddenly terrified like I'm already low key devestated

beat his ass sister !!!

lmao the Italian ass entry 😭

help how has he not fallen to his death that's a measuring tape 😭

i need to take a self defense class at some point lol

slayyy

[kaiser-brutus]

异种核心 「xenocore」

So, this is basically a story I just started working on. It's heavily inspired by Transformers, Jurassic World and Ultraman. If that sounds interesting, do check it out. I hope you enjoy :) 🙏

*The image below does not fully represent the characters in the story*

The Foreign [Chapter 1.1]

Within the vast darkness of the cosmos, unfamiliar planets, adorned with neon colours and intricate details visible through the naked eye, were torn apart by an invisible force. Chunks of their planetary contents drifted into the empty void of space as time passed.

Down below, pieces of debris levitated aimlessly in the vacuum, revealing to be infrastructural scraps when more debris came into view.

These fragments derived from the planet, Lumiere. The futuristic cities that thrived there, were now breaking apart along with the planet itself. It was as if gravity had inverted tenfold, lifting and pulling up everything in its path.

As the bizarre phenomenon continued its devastation, a sleek maglev car raced off on its track. It expertly manoeuvred through the cityscape while unleashing a barrage of energy blasts from its blasters, creating a glowing display of luminous streaks cutting through the atmosphere.

The energy blasts made quick work of the approaching enemies, obliterating their highly sophisticated cybernetic bodies. These enemies were a handful of cybernetic theropod dinosaurs, their raven bodies contrasting sharply with the minacious glow of their crimson eyes.

Amidst the clash of technology and prehistoric aesthetics, one of the enemies went for an ambush by pouncing from the roof of a nearby structure but failed as it was swiftly dispatched by the Maglev car's missile.

After traversing a series of slanted turns and loops akin to a roller coaster, the Maglev car drove off a dead end, becoming airborne. Right in front, a huge cataclysmic spectacle unfolded. Chunks of the cities’ and planet's surface levitated, swallowed into the boundless expanse of the cosmos. A massive fissure promptly ensued, splitting the cities apart, amplifying the severity of Lumiere's grievous state.

The airborne Maglev vehicle transformed into a cybernetic Tratayenia, Sirius. After a brief period of free falling, Sirius elegantly performed a forward roll upon crashing onto the ever-tilting city terrain, instantly getting charged by three cybernetic, raven dinosaurs afterwards.

Reacting swiftly, Sirius spun around, simultaneously transforming his right arm into a sleek machete integrated with an energy blaster. 

Capitalising on the momentum generated from his spin, Sirius concurrently thrust the blade into the chest of the first enemy and fired a devastating energy blast right through it, pulverising the enemy’s core.

After swiftly retracting his weapon, Sirius immediately followed up with a clockwise spinning kick that smashed squarely onto the second enemy’s face, sending it tumbling away.

Despite the sheer agility Sirius harnessed, the third foe caught him off guard, impaling his right shoulder with the tip of its extendable long tail. Sirius shrieked in anguish as the enemy hoisted him up, slamming him through a futuristic overhead bridge and onto the unforgiving ground.

The tail became dislodged from Sirius’s shoulder, but Sirius began sliding downward at a rate of knots as the steepness of the terrain rapidly exacerbated.

Adapting quickly, Sirius sunk his razor-sharp claws into the ground in an effort to impede his descent.

However, like a thief in the night, an unknown adversary swooped in and snatched Sirius off the surface he was clinging to like a comet, hurtling him down hundreds of miles parallel to the sharply tilted cityscape until he impacted a new terrain below. Although devastated, this area appeared seemingly unaffected by the planet-destroying phenomenon.

Dust and ash promptly scattered into the atmosphere upon impact, creating a hemispheric cloud of debris that enclosed the impact site. Immediately after, Sirius was violently launched across the desolated city terrain, ramming into a ruined structure which instantly crumbled upon collision.

As the dust and ash were settling, a pair of ominous crimson eyes blazed brightly within the lingering haze, their explicit illumination pierced sharply through the blinding obscurity, emanating a dark and formidable presence.

Out of the blue, from within the haze spurted a vibrant ray of energy beam that cut across the atmosphere, shooting towards Sirius, gusting clear of any remnants of haze in the way.

"ULTIMATE SHIELD!!"

Fortunately for Sirius, two layers of crescent-shaped energy shield emerged before him, each adorned in enthralling colours of neon blue and green as well as intricate patterns.

These shields of otherworldly semblance and ethereality successfully protected Sirius from what could have been a lethal blow from the mighty energy beam.

The saviours who defended Sirius with their shields were Quasar, the cybernetic Albertosaurus and Stellar, the cybernetic Gorgosaurus, their advent brought a welcoming relief for Sirius who struggled to rise to his feet.

“General, are you alright?” Quasar checked in, expressing concern in his voice while both newcomers helped Sirius on his feet.

With the lingering dust and ash finally cleared, the figure with a baleful pair of crimson eyes was revealed to be Andromeda, the cybernetic Diabolus Rex.

"We..better keep moving" Stellar suggested, her tone carrying a sense of unease as she and the others witnessed the gravity of their situation.

More cybernetic raven dinosaurs showed up, aligning forces with Andromeda.

"Phantom Siege, erase them." Andromeda commanded.

"Have you retrieved the incubator capsules, General?" Quasar urgently asked.

“Yes, all in here.” Sirius answered, tapping on the storage compartment in his chest where the capsules were securely hidden.

“Good. Get to Emperor Etendus, we’ll buy you some time.” Quasar instructed as multiple intricate components and gears of his cybernetic form began shifting harmoniously. Rows of giant sickle-like blades were deployed on both sides of his outer ankles, followed by one equipped at the tip of his tail.

Without hesitation, Sirius rushed his way to the “Imperial”, where the emperor resided while his comrades fended off the enemies.

Incarcerate, a formidable adversary from the Phantom Siege, leapt forward with a serrated dagger in his right hand. He tried plunging the blade into the top of Quasar’s head but missed, striking the metallic ground with an audible “clank” as Quasar evaded to his right swiftly.

In response, Incarcerate promptly reconfigured his left arm, equipping himself with a dark machete and swinging it at Quasar in the hopes of damaging him. However, the blade ended up only slicing the air as Quasar leaned back in the nick of time, barely avoiding the slash. 

Incarcerate immediately followed up with a forward thrust of his machete only for Quasar to deftly evade to his right. Now, possessing the angular advantage, Quasar seized the opportunity to deliver a swift roundhouse kick to Incarcerate’s body.

Reacting quickly, Incarcerate caught the roundhouse kick with his arms, trapping Quasar’s leg firmly within his grasp. Using his tremendous strength and a powerful torque generated by turning his whole body, Incarcerate tossed Quasar by his leg, soaring him through the air akin to a fighter jet taking off.

Amidst Quasar being airborne, Incarcerate transformed some sections of his neck and jaws, reconstructing his mouth into a powerful plasma cannon. He fired at Quasar with superb precision, putting his enemy in a nosedive towards the ground with just one shot.

Quasar plummeted into the cityscape, demolishing every desolate structure unfortunate enough to be in his trajectory, leaving a trail of augmented ruination in his wake.

Meanwhile, Incarcerate began shifting from his orthodox stance, winding his right arm backwards and swiftly extending it diagonally downwards towards his left, his right foot advancing a step forward concurrently.

He already retracted his left arm as well, his left forearm raised diagonally towards his right with his wrist inverted so his claws poised upwards.

Once moved into position, the intricate mechanisms of his arms abruptly shifted in unison, emitting an audible and confirming “clank”. He winded his right arm back again, simultaneously taking a step back with his right foot.

Now, his right arm illuminated with an ominous crimson blaze, surging with immense power.

"We are Phantom Siege, the evolutionary supremacy of you" Incarcerate calmly declared, plummeting his right palm into the earth with thunderous impact.

With one single hit, enormous fissures came barreling in swarms, promptly ripping through the metallic ground that supported the weight of the city structures for eternity. The catastrophic quake rampaged through the cityscape, collapsing buildings like frangible biscuits under pressure.

Once the quake had reached Quasar, the ground underneath him erupted, launching him and everything in his vicinity sky-high. The eruption also spewed out constant long, luminescent strips of purple light that travelled upwards.

Out of the blue, gravity seemed to vanish, causing pieces of infrastructural scraps and Lumeire’s crust to levitate alongside Quasar in the purplish void.

As Quasar struggled to traverse his way inside the gravity-absent space, Incarcerate, well in his element, swiftly sprang among the countless structural scraps with lightning speed akin to a laser reflecting off a mirror.

At a moment’s notice, Incarcerate lept towards Quasar from one of the scraps, slashing him with his claw-like sword. Incarcerate bounced off from another scrap towards Quasar and delivered a second slash. From here onwards, it was just a deadly dance of “rinse and repeat” as Quasar would be sliced and diced with ten more slashes, with the last one being the most potent.

After issuing the final blow with a flourish, Incarcerate returned to the ground below with a menacing pose, his gleaming swords proudly displayed as his adversary ignited into a blazing fireball. A deafening explosion soon followed, sending shockwaves rippling through the atmosphere.

__________________________________

The “Imperial” was a marvellous feat of construction ingenuity on planet Lumiere, a futuristic palace of titanic proportion, towering all other structures by several miles.

Its base stretched across an area of more than 50 kilometres square. The lower half of the “Imperial” largely consisted of countless rectangular structures of labyrinthine arrangement, forming a gentle slope on both sides of the palace that gradually steepened towards the heavens, reminiscent of a towering volcano.

At the top of this magnificent megastructure, the slopes abruptly transitioned into a 90-degree vertical drop, where a colossal cannon-like structure resided, dominating the upper half of the palace with its imposing presence.

Inside the Imperial Palace, the almighty emperor of Lumiere, Etendus, paced with slow, methodical steps. His calm authority filled the brightly lit hall adorned with pearly and technological aesthetics.

Surreal light bulbs, emitting a welcoming ray of oceanic light were installed on the lustrous pillars and ceiling, suffusing the hall with a subtle azure hue.

Despite the emperor’s serene demeanour, his heart lurked a great looming sense of trepidation which was promptly alleviated by a call of a familiar voice.

“Lord Etendus!” Sirius’s yell echoed through the vast expanse of the hall as he dashed frantically towards the emperor. “Sirius, the capsules, have you retrieved them?” Etendus inquired with a tad of urgency in his tone. “Yes, Your Majesty, they're here.” Sirius answered, unlocking the storage compartment in his chest.

Using a mild energy ray shooting from the palm of his clawed hand, Sirius guided the delicate glowing capsules into his grasp.

“Well done my loyal soldier.” Etendus commended. “I’ll quickly transfer them to the escape pods. Our clan may have fallen, but our descendants will thrive and carry on our legacy in a distant world where they’ll call home.”

After hearing Etendus’s brief speech, a wave of sadness and dread washed over Sirius’s heart. With the once blissful existence eradicated, now confronted with the daunting possibility of extinction as Lumiere spiralled towards annihilation, surviving through this war was far from guaranteed.

Etendus parted his jaws marginally, activating the same mild energy ray Sirius used to extract the capsules. Except, the energy ray was emitting from inside his cybernetic mouth, allowing Sirius to manoeuvre the capsules to Etendus, passing it to his entrance where they were secured somewhere within his mechanized body.

Amidst Sirius’s moment of sorrow and apprehension, the pearly aesthetics of the palace hall abruptly turned sombre and gloomy. The azure lights that evoked a sense of oceanic tranquillity were replaced with an ominous scarlet glow, bathing the hall with its sinistrous embrace as the emergency siren bellowed a petrifying cry of despair.

Out of the blue, an unknown dark figure burst through the palace's ceiling with a thunderous rumble, sending debris scattering in all directions. With a supernatural grace, the mysterious figure landed effortlessly together on his hind legs and right arm, his left arm poised high in the air, fingers splayed, displaying an imposing presence of elite competence. 

He raised his head slowly and steadily, revealing his radiant crimson eyes.

The newly arrived threat was Aesir, the cybernetic Indominus Rex, another warrior of the Phantom Siege.

"I'll hold him off. Emperor, get the capsules to the escape pods" Sirius instructed with assertiveness, ready to face the malice for the survival of his clan.

"Understood, may the odds be with you, soldier." Etendus responded solemnly, his tone carrying a mixture of gratitude and concern.

"Your ravage will not come to triumph, invader." Sirius firmly declared as he instantly reconfigured his arms, equipping himself with a gleaming sword on his left arm and an energy blaster on his right.

Aesir unhesitantly armed himself with weapons of his own and squared off with Sirius. The two fighters circled each other for a brief period of time, analysing each other in an effort to cherry-pick exploitable weaknesses. Aesir made the first move by faking his attack, pretending to advance towards his opponent, even emitting an intimidating grunt to further deceive Sirius.

Sirius, falling for the bait, fired an energy blast at Aesir, who swiftly evaded it by springing to his right. Seizing an opportunity to counterattack, Aesir spun anticlockwise and unleashed a diagonal energy-infused tail slash that dashed towards Sirius, causing a medium-sized explosion upon impacting him. 

Amidst Sirius’s momentary distraction caused by the explosion, Aesir immediately charged forward, executing a counterclockwise spinning kick. Sirius narrowly ducked under the attack, sweeping Aesir by ensnaring his ankle with his long tail and yanking it, tumbling Aesir to the floor while manoeuvring to the right.

Sirius swiftly pointed his energy blaster at Aesir’s head, about to shoot. However, Aesir managed to grab hold of the side of Sirius’s blaster together with his hands and jaws, misdirecting the weapon away, causing Sirius to narrowly miss his shot.

In a panic, Sirius kept firing his energy blaster blindly while desperately trying to wrestle his weapon out of Aesir’s mouth. Aesir, with his immense bite force, swiftly crushed Sirius's weapon along with his arm, disarming his adversary whilst incapacitating one of his limbs, killing two birds with one stone.

Sirius howled in agony as Aesir spun around, dragging Sirius by his mangled arm with his jaws and flinging him across the palace hall with tremendous force.

Sirius’s back collided with the hall’s pillar, sending tremors coursing through the structure, leaving behind a chaotic pattern of fractures on the pristine, solid pillar. The collision also caused one of the pillar’s lights to blow out, scattering glittering sparks in all directions.

As Sirius dropped onto the floor, suffering from the excruciating pain surging through his body, Aesir seized the opportunity to capitalise on his rival’s moment of weakness.

Utilising his hydraulic legs, Aesir leapt into the air, reminiscent of a grasshopper. With his weapon of choice, a sleek arrow-shaped edged weapon deployed on his left arm, he aimed to plunge the tip of the blade into the top of Sirius’s head.

With his sheer willpower, Sirius managed to stand up despite his pain and evaded Aesir’s assault by manoeuvring to his right in the nick of time.

Undeterred, Aesir swiftly followed up with a backhand swing of his weapon which Sirius leaned back just enough to dodge and quickly moved behind Aesir. Aesir pressed on, swinging his weapon relentlessly, desperately trying to reach Sirius. However, Sirius kept leaning back, maintaining his splendid elusiveness by keeping himself narrowly out of his opponent’s onslaught.

Using his sharp claws, Aesir delivered a blow with his right hand, stepping his rear foot forward at the same time. Sirius, with his brisk reaction, clamped his jaws onto Aesir’s attacking arm by his wrist. Using Aesir’s aggressive forward momentum against him, Sirius executed a beautiful throw by swiftly pulling Aesir's wrist and sweeping his inner thigh, effortlessly hoisting Aesir off the ground and over Sirius’s hips, tumbling the assailant towards the floor.

However, Aesir showcased an astonishing feat of agility by slightly adjusting himself amid his descent, pulling off a near-perfect landing on his feet instead of falling onto the floor. With his back now mostly facing Sirius, Aesir retaliated with a swipe of his powerful tail, only for Sirius to simply duck under and lunge forward with a powerful energy “charged” body slam.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through Aesir’s body, knocking the wind out of him and hurling him back a great distance away. Aesir desperately latched onto the floor with all four of his limbs, his razor-sharp claws digging deep into the surface, scarring the pristine palace floor with a palpable sign of a fierce rivalry.

Once Aesir gradually came to a halt, he calmly rose to his normal bipedal stance, unfazed. Using his cybernetic eyes, he briefly analysed Sirius’s body anatomy, even concluding his most possible fighting style based on the moves he witnessed.

“A general indeed.” Aesir commended with ill-intent behind his deep murmuring.

The mechanisms on Aesir’s ankles reconfigured subtly as he prepared his next move. Subsequently, he leapt towards a pillar and bounced off from it with dazzling speed, hurtling straight towards Sirius.

Seizing this rare opportunity for an easy retaliation, Sirius intercepted Aesir with a circular spinning kick to his head the moment Aesir entered striking distance. However, the pitch-black darkness of Aesir’s figure faded glitchy and translucent. What was supposed to be a swift and clean shot, ended up only meeting air as Sirius’s kick cut across Aesir’s frame like he was a ghost, leaving Sirius utterly puzzled.

All of a sudden, Sirius sensed a crushing force colliding with the top of his head. Apparently, Aesir had somehow positioned himself above Sirius without notice, delivering the oblivious fighter a devastating tail slam down onto his head.

Disoriented and damaged, Sirius wobbled, sparks spewing out from his cybernetic head as he tried to regain his footing and focus. Aesir, now augmented by his new bizarre ability, traversed throughout Sirius's vicinity with unearthly speed, leaving a dark holographic apparition behind in his wake as he darted from one spot to another in a blink of an eye.

Before Sirius could collect his wits, he had already received another head trauma from Aesir’s flying kick that struck out of nowhere, the heel of Aesir’s foot driving deep into Sirius’s cheek.

As Sirius was sent hurling across the hall by the sheer power of the kick, Aesir instantly positioned himself at the receiving end of Sirius’s trajectory, swiftly delivering a spinning kick that redirected Sirius towards the opposite direction. In a flash, he repositioned himself again in front of Sirius, issuing another spinning kick that propelled Sirius to a different direction. Following, he positioned himself before a hurtling Sirius once more, ready to execute another attack. Aesir armed himself with his arrow-shaped bladed weapon and mercilessly thrust it into Sirius's chest as Sirius hurled towards him.

Sirius was impaled with a sickening squelch, the razor-sharp edge of the blade slicing through his cybernetic organs with buttery ease. The tip of the weapon burst out from his back in a gruesome display of brutality.

The weapon, trickling with the mechanical fluids of its opponent, was yanked out savagely, ripping through the insides as it exited the body. Sirius stumbled backwards, each movement sending shockwaves of pain scorching through his chest as he collapsed to the floor on one knee.

With grim determination, Sirius abruptly transformed his left arm into an energy blaster in an effort to catch his enemy by surprise with a single shot. However, Aesir simply turned glitchy and translucent once again; a holographic version of himself, rendering Sirius’s retaliation utterly in vain as the shot he fired went completely through his enemy’s intangible form.

Moreover, Sirius noticed a faint afterimage of Aesir bolting past him with blinding speed right as Aesir turned holographic, leading him to turn around to face his adversary’s true form.

To his surprise, standing before him were five Aesirs assembled in a wedge formation, each positioned diagonally behind the next, reminiscent of a sharp arrowhead. Together, they formed an imposing streamlined formation, ready to trounce any challenger in their wake. Out of the five, four Aesirs were merely holograms, only the one at the centre remained corporeal, solid and tangible.

In the heat of despair, Sirius frantically unleashed a hail of energy projectiles from his blaster, aiming at the real Aesir. In response, Aesir danced effortlessly between the shots by darting amongst the holograms with unfathomable speed. “We have transcended beyond the limitations of your species’s evolutionary construct, the embodiment of perfection you could only dream of.” Aesir taunted, his deep, tranquil tone resonating through the chamber, casting the atmosphere with the ever-looming fate of vanquishment.

At last, Sirius stopped his resistance, his body finally succumbing to his injury as he collapsed on one knee onto the floor. “Then, why do the bidding of the malevolent?” Sirius’s question emerged in halting tones, each word a testament to his dwindling strength.

Aesir deactivated his holographic ability, sizing up his defeated adversary.

__________________________________

Etendus, who had arrived at the evacuation station near the peak of the “Imperial”, placed the final incubator capsule inside one of the escape pods. The intricate mechanisms of the interior of the escape pod activated, reconfiguring itself to secure the delicate capsule. Sensing a commotion nearby, Etendus turned around to inspect.

On one of the bridges leading to the evacuation station, a swift and nimble combatant was on his pursuit, his movements fluid and precise as he raced effortlessly on the tight surface of the platform with short, rapid strides.

As he drew near his target, Etendus, he pounced with a sudden burst of power, leaping high into the air towards his left with deadly elegance. As he hung suspended in the air, he promptly transformed his entire body into a colossal drill, charging towards Etendus with the ferocity of a raging bull.

Undeterred, Etendus calmly stood by for the incoming onslaught. With the instincts of a seasoned warrior, he easily sidestepped and ensnared the slimmer part of his enemy’s drill form with his powerful jaws, spinning him around in a full circle. As the enemy urgently reverted to his original form, Etendus sent him hurling away from the evacuation station.

Upon returning to his original form amid his fall, the enemy skillfully landed on all four of his limbs. Rising onto his hind legs with a composed demeanour, he unhesitantly squared up with Etendus, exuding an aura of readiness.

Meanwhile, the escape pods were ready to launch as indicated by the azure light illuminating from the fine gaps between the sleek metal platings that shielded the colossal cannon-shaped structure.

A dazzling ray of azure beam was promptly fired from the muzzle of the cannon-like structure, producing a towering pillar of vibrant illumination ascending into the darkness of the cosmos, a magnificent display of otherworldly technology.

On the bridge where two cybernetic theropods were ready to face off, The foe initiated the engagement, storming towards Etendus on the offensive. Etendus responded in kind, charging headlong towards the enemy with a menacing roar that emanated both primaeval and mechanical essences. The two combatants quickly met in a clash, their gaping jaws bristled with serrated teeth a hair's breadth away from chomping each other in the face.

__________________________________

Year 2014

England, 5:00 pm...

A sea of Clouds, bleak, infused with a dense colouration of dismal grey, blanketed the vastness of the sky like a veil of sorrow. Its brooding presence casted an aura of gloom into the atmosphere.

Bellowing thunder proclaimed its imposing presence akin to a ferocious beast marking its territory, showcasing Mother Nature's dominance over her realm. Lightning trailed across the heavens with its dazzling burst of jagged brilliance, its electric tendrils slithering through the dark clouds like a mysterious serpent of divine origin.

A heavy downpour mercilessly plummeted into the town below, each raindrop a tiny bullet smashing into every surface in its wake, creating a minuscule explosion of water upon impact, drenching the streets in a spattered mess.

Despite the ever-raging thunderstorm, the streets were bustling with commuters, each seemingly preoccupied with their own business as they wove through each other, impatiently navigating the urban landscape in search of home. Their umbrellas, vibrant in various colours, shielded them from the elements pelting down from above, creating a flamboyant display reminiscent of a blooming flower bed stretching across the great expanse of the streets.

Herds of children could be seen stampeding out of their school, enthusiastically hurling themselves into their parents’ embrace with joy and laughter, a prime representation of a blissful childhood.

Amid the cheerful spirit teeming around the school gate, a boy emerged from a nearby alley, strolling on a passageway underneath the second floor of a building. His red hoodie partially masked the bitterness written on his face and the unhealed scar branded beside his left eye. His presence exuded an ominous aura of darkness and wretchedness, sharply contrasting the blissful innocence of the children nearby.

Suddenly, the boy tripped over a person’s outstretched leg, causing him to topple onto the rainwater-filled floor and landing flat on his torso, knocking the wind out of him. He promptly coiled his arms around his body in a tight embrace, curling into a fetal position. The weight of the searing anguish pinned him against the unforgiving floor as the downpour relentlessly pelted his body, drenching him in the freezing rain.

“Look where you’re going, Asian boy.” Taunted the man who tripped the boy, his smirk dripping with condescension.

“Crawl back to where you came from, shithead” One of the man’s companions sneered before lashing out, swinging his leg like a wrecking ball and ruthlessly colliding his foot onto the boy’s face. 

Helpless and defenceless, the boy could only cover his face in agony as the assailant tossed his partially smoked cigarette at him.

As the 3 men turned their backs and left, the boy mustered up his will in an effort to stand up, triggering waves of pain surging through his body with every movement.

Numerous towering figures of adults weaved past the miniature stature of the assaulted boy, completely disregarding the obvious presence of a victim. The boy struggled to his feet, his left arm clutching his upper abdomen in pain. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of one of the commuters, a woman. She gave the boy an unsympathetic side-eye coupled with a swift, condescending smirk, her scornful action reflected in the boy’s pupil as she walked past.

Sensing a presence beside him, the boy looked to his left. Within the comfort of a nearby shelter was a silent witness, his face hidden behind the frame of his smartphone, filming every detail of the misery and humiliation the boy just faced. Upon getting caught red-handed by the boy, the witness lowered his phone, revealing an irritating smirk of mockery before disappearing into the crowd of commuters, umbrella in hand.

Seemingly numb to the ridicule he was subjected to, the boy pressed forward amidst the heavy rainstorm with reluctant stoicism.

__________________________________

The silence of the chilly interior of a convenience store was shattered by the abrupt ringing of a Shopkeeper's Bell as the boy pushed open the glass door at the entrance.

Stepping into the frosty realm of the store, the boy immediately made his way towards one of the aisle sections with laser focus, not even acknowledging the cashier at the counter.

“Make sure you pay for your stuff, kid.” The cashier uttered nonchalantly, immersing himself in his newspaper. He lounged in the comfort of his office chair with his back pressed heavily against the cushion in a sluggish manner.

The boy stopped at the snacks section of the aisle, his gaze fell upon the Snickers bar before him. In a moment of hesitation, the boy nervously darted glances at the cashier, taking a deep breath to alleviate the boiling anxiety within him. The boy mustered up his courage, snatching a handful of Snickers bars from the shelf in the blink of an eye. With the agility of a cat, the boy bolted for the exit, his foot thudding the floor in rapid succession as he escaped.

The resounding ringing of the Shopkeeper’s Bell alerted the cashier when the boy opened the door and vanished into the freedom of the bustling streets.

“Have a good day kid. HEY!! YOU DIDN'T PAY!!” Exclaimed the cashier, the sudden realisation of stolen products woke him up from his immersion in his newspaper.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE THIEF!!” The cashier bawled, his tone seething with exasperation as he scurried out of his seat in a hasty pursuit of the boy.

__________________________________

“Three days ago, on August 15th, a tragic murder of four children from Dansfield Primary School was discovered around the Appledine Way in Bedford.” Reported the female news anchor on the television.

The news broadcast displayed footage of crime scene cleaners in stark white bio suits, their actions were purposeful yet ambiguous as they retrieved all remnants of the tragedy for disposal. Black body bags, heavy with the contents of homicide, were carefully transferred away, never to be seen again. Later, the screen cut to footage of detectives scouring the crime scene, scanning for any glimmer of evidence amid the bloodshed of chaos.

The news anchor continued reporting…

“Despite massive investigation efforts done around the vicinity of Appledine Way, Dansfield primary school and numerous other areas, the police still have no clue on identifying potential suspects. This case remains unsolved, the authorities are appealing for any information that could aid the investigation.

It is a murder case like no other. Various gashes and stab wounds have been found on the victims’ bodies, but no trace of the murderer was left behind. DNA tests and CCTV footage revealed nothing, suggesting a highly proficient killer is on the loose…”

The footage of the news broadcast gradually zoomed outwards, revealing the thin black frame of the television set. The audible and distinct voice of the news anchor slowly faded into faint murmurs as parts of the walls and everyday objects like the portable socket outlet came into view. 

The scale of the spacious, dark living room slowly uncovered its true form, casting an eerie ambience that lingered in the atmosphere. Out of the blue, a dazzling flash of light caused by a lightning strike illuminated the room, exposing the intricate colours and flower design on a nearby sofa.

A gentle brief rumbling of thunder ensued, its deafening sound greatly insulated by the thick walls of the house. As the voice of the news anchor dwindled into nothing more than an indistinguishable rustle, a cordless phone emerged, standing imposingly on the peak of a wooden table.

A sudden ringing of the phone broke the eerie silence of the living room, masking the muffling sound of the television with its infuriating cry for attention. A hand swooped in, swiftly snatching the phone from its charging dock, muting its ringing as a result.

“Yes?” the receiver answered elegantly, placing the phone to her ear.

“Marlin Jones?” Asked the person on the other side of the call.

“Yeah.” Marlin replied, her voice carrying an ounce of suspicion.

“This is Officer Patrick Davis from Westline Police Department, we’ve found your son.”

……..

“Look kid, we called your parents, they're coming to get you home.” The officer stated, his expression burned out, his tone weary.

“But I’ve stolen something, am I not supposed to go to jail?” The boy opposed in an effort to persuade the officer with his righteous logic.

The officer rose from his seat, visibly at the end of his rope with the argument. He leaned towards the boy, his hands planted onto the desk with the strength of a colossal tree. With austerity written on his face, he glared into the boy’s eyes.

“Look kid, listen up. Jail isn't a fun place to stay in, this ain't your house or a playground. It’s a rough, dirty place filled with bad people that will gladly harm you. So do me a favor, go back home.” The officer warned assertively before turning his back and reaching for the door handle.

Right before the officer exited the interrogation room, the boy promptly sprang out of his seat in a last-ditch effort to convince him. “Officer, I’ve stolen something I shouldn’t have, it’s only fair and responsible for me to be put in jail!” The boy declared, his tone brimming with an aura of determination, his eyebrows frowned with unparalleled resolution.

The officer exhaled exasperatingly, his hands resting idly on both sides of his waist. Gathering his final ounce of patience, he attempted to reason with the boy again. “Hey kid..” he uttered before being interrupted by a call from his radio. “Brian, Mr and Mrs Jones are here, get their son now.” announced the officer on the other side of the radio. “Copy that.” The officer replied.

After a brief sigh, the officer sprang into action, advancing towards the boy and grasping his wrist. “Alright kid, time to return to your parents before they get mad.” The officer advised as he swiftly hauled the boy by his wrist. The boy attempted to break free, but against the unyielding clutch of the officer, his desperate struggle fell into vanity.

In a burst of hysteria, the boy let out primal shrieks of terror that quickly filled the air. “NO!! LET ME GO!! I WANT TO GO TO JAIL!! I WANT TO GO JAIL!!” The boy screamed and begged, tears pouring out of his eyes. His chaotic thrashing disturbed the eerie calm of the interrogation room as he flailed his arms in a futile attempt to latch onto nearby furniture.

At last, the boy lashed out, inflicting a bite onto the officer’s arm in the hopes of freeing himself. “GOD DAMN IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!! HEY, SOMEONE HELP ME DEAL WITH THIS LUNATIC!!” Howled the officer. In a flash, Another officer rushed into the interrogation room, hastily positioning himself behind the boy. By wrapping the sheer bulk of his arms around the boy’s upper and lower jaw in a deadlock, he pried open the miniature mandible like the shell of a scallop.

Upon freeing the officer's arm, the boy resumed his hysterical mayhem, thrashing uncontrollably as his limbs turned into hazardous fury of weapons.

As the two officers hoisted the boy by his feet and shoulders, the boy retaliated with a series of wild, frantic lashes from his arms and kicks that could knock the wind out of someone if they were careless. It was a scene reminiscent of an exorcism from a horror movie as the two officers cautiously carried the crazed boy out of the room. “I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!! I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!!!” The boy’s scream of dread reverberated through the atmosphere.

__________________________________

With a sense of urgency, the boy strolled hurriedly as he entered the front door of his house. Each of his steps surged palpable dread of the foreseeable peril into his heart, triggering him to speed up his strides as he traversed his way through the eerie but luxurious interior of his house. Before he could reach the safety of his room, a hand emerged from a room wreathed in darkness, snatching the boy by the cap of his hoodie as he passed by.

“Let me go!!” Exclaimed the boy, thrashing wildly in an attempt to free himself from the dominating grasp of the unknown adult. His flailing arms, an airborne projectile, assailed any furniture in their wake, knocking off objects that once stood at the peak of the tables and desks. Meanwhile, the unknown adult maintained his vice-like grip on the boy, displaying no sign of struggle.

Dragging the boy to the living room, the unknown adult tossed him to the marble floor. The cap of the boy’s hoodie fell off as a result, spilling the beans of the atrocity swept under the rug. Akin to a war-ravaged scenery, the boy’s face was a clutter of trauma, adorned with sabbing gashes and crimson contusion, narrating a tale of untold tragedy within his life.

As the boy gradually regained his footing, shielding his face within his hoodie cap in shame, his eyes fell upon a minacious silhouette standing before him amidst the darkness of the room…

Marlin Jones wielding a hefty, rusty chain.

Marlin swung her arms, her chain gradually picking up speed reminiscent of an industrial turbine as it spun, each rotation harvesting an ominous amount of raw energy and power, producing a deep metallic whirr reverberating through the atmosphere.

The slow, rhythmic rotation of the chain quickly accelerated into a chaotic vortex of menace. In a fit of rage, Marlin unleashed a barrage of onslaught, hurling the chain towards the boy. With a combination of exquisite elegance and brutality in its motion, the chain bolted through the air with lightning’s fury.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SIT PUT?!” Marlin bawled as the chain clashed with the boy’s arm with all its amassed power and weight. The boy wailed immediately upon the excruciating assault, his tone a mixture of anguish and anger.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BEHAVE?!” Marlin promptly silenced the boy’s wail by continuing her attack, whipping the chain across his face in a flash, drawing out a splatter of blood from his mouth.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LISTEN?!” Marlin finished her combination with a swift final scourge across the other side of the boy’s cheek. A sickening squelch resonated through the air as the rusty, worn metal peeled chunks of skin and flesh off the boy in a gruesome display of violence.

The once pristine, snowy white walls of the house now bore bloodshed scattered far and wide, turning them into a canvas that portrayed a tale of the anonymous horror of mankind.

Blood poured profusely from the gaping wound on the boy’s cheeks, soaking the marble floor in a puddle of crimson. Collapsed onto the floor on all fours, the boy mustered his strength in an agonising attempt to stand up. Each of his movement surged shockwaves of searing pain throughout his body, pinning him to the bloodied floor.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE LIKE TIMMY?” Marlin roared in a crazed madness.

“Instead, your GRADES are FAILING!” Marlin added, her chain seamlessly whiplashing through the air with deadly elegance, landing a crushing blow to the boy's back.

Upon getting struck, the boy collapsed back onto the floor amid his gradual ascent, his face submerged in the pool of his own crimson as he lay sprawled on the floor.

“All the teachers DISLIKE you!” Marlin immediately followed up, lunging the chain towards the boy. Like a ferocious serpent, the chain impacted the back of the boy’s head with immense power and breakneck velocity. The boy instantly clutched the back of his head in sheer agony, using his hands to shield against the relentless onslaught. The unbearable anguish surging through his mind made him curl up in a foetal position, soothing the pain while bracing for incoming attacks.

“You’ve DISGRACED us enough!!” At last, Marlin lashed out a final whip to the helpless boy. However, her fury was far from vented. “Now, YOU'RE learning to STEAL?!”

“What kind of son did I raise?” Marlin began pacing back and forth frantically, the imminent threat of an uncontrolled outburst never absent. “Those rescuers should’ve left you in the ruins of your hometown to ROT!!” Marlin bellowed, pointing a finger at the boy, her eyes burning with hatred.

As the boy struggled to his feet, Marlin turned her back to him, seemingly about to walk away before suddenly turning back around to scold him. “And how many times have I told you not to hang around with those mucks, they are a bad influence! WHY DON’T YOU GET IT?!”

“SPLAT!!” In an aggressive act of fortitude and defiance, the boy, still on all fours, spat a mouthful of blood vehemently onto the floor, aggravating the crimson clutter beneath him.

Blood persisted to cascade from his wounds, drenching his neck and hoodie as he fitfully got onto his feet. “They are not mucks.” The boy declared. He gradually raised his arm, eventually pointing an index finger at the murder case news broadcast on the television. “They–were MY FRIENDS!!” A rebellious roar, a mixture of unwavering fearlessness and resentment, exited the boy's mouth.

Seemingly at the end of his ropes with his stepmother, the boy snarled at Marlin, his face etched with unyielding aggression. “You did this, didn’t you?” The boy hissed, his hand trembling with palpable rage as he pointed an index finger at Marlin.

“Wow, you catch up quick huh?” Marlin commanded nonchalantly after breaking out of her momentary look of surprise.

The unknown adult who dragged the boy out to face Marlin’s wrath, discreetly grabbed a pipe wrench from a table behind, sneaking up on the unsuspecting boy. With a swift wind up, he slammed the hefty wrench onto the boy's knee, dislocating the joint with an audible snap.

The excruciating pain instantly flooded the boy's mind, bringing him down to his knees. His wail of agony quickly filled the air, only to be silenced by a devastating followed-up blow to the back of his head.

“Insufferable scum.” The unknown adult, Marlin's husband murmured as he approached his wife, handing the pipe wrench over to her.

Marlin condescendingly smirked as she took the pipe wrench. The boy, lying incapacitated on the floor, tightly covered the severe wound on the back of his head, barely containing the cascade of blood. Fragments of tissue matter stained the floor and the boy’s fingers as blood rapidly seeped through the gaps between his tightly closed fingers.

Marlin approached the boy, her gleaming, scornful presence reflected in her eyes. Using her feet, she pushed the boy slightly, turning him over enough to reveal his face.

Marlin tightened her grip on the pipe wrench. With a barbaric ferocity, she bashed the boy’s face repeatedly with her weapon in hand, each blow carrying the intention to cripple. The sickening squelch of flesh mangled and bones fractured upon impact resonated into the air. Every vicious strike triggered a splatter of blood and tiny fragments of tissue to be scattered to the surroundings, painting the floors, walls and furniture with crimson brutality.

Even with the barrage of onslaught inflicted, the attacks displayed no sign of receding, each devastating blow was delivered with the same lethality as the last. Drips of crimson splattered onto the sofa, family portrait, and the attacker herself, soaking her in red over time.

As the living room was gradually adorned with the vile bloodshed like a slaughterhouse, Marlin still persisted in her ruthless pummelling, her bloodlust completely fogging up her mind. Within her rain of attacks, every beatdown produced a squelch of mutilation across the atmosphere. The seemingly endless torment eventually spawned a burst of blood sprayed onto the Television’s screen.

Marlin, her clothes now bathed in gore, finally seized her bloody rampage. Debilitated and disfigured, the boy lay motionlessly on the floor, his face a manifestation of mangled flesh and bone. His feeble breathing was his only sign of life.

“Any last words?” Marlin asked. The boy's eyes faintly blinked before he answered. “You’ll….pay..for this…” A nearly obscure murmur exited the boy's mouth.

Marlin nodded sternly and with a final wind-up, she slammed the pipe wrench onto the boy’s temple with every ounce of her strength. In the blink of an eye, all signs of the boy’s struggle had ceased to exist, his faintly opened eyes now sewn shut. For awhile, the air across the rooms of the house was filled with a surreal sense of stillness.

Marlin eventually woke up from her rage-like trance, fully comprehending the atrocity she had committed. She loosened her grip on the pipe wrench, steadying her breath as her adrenaline dissipated. 

“Stupid muck got it coming, acting all tough and defiant under our very own eyes. Scum’s forgotten his place!” Marlin’s husband grumbled, his frustration seething through.

“I’m done” Marlin uttered, her voice lingering with a tad of exhaustion as she returned the bloodied pipe wrench to her husband. “We need to clean up this mess real quick before somebody finds out.”

“Don’t worry hun, that’ll be sorted out in no time.” Marlin’s husband replied arrogantly.

“Sure you’ll do.” Marlin smirkingly cooed before heading downstairs from the living room.

Marlin’s husband turned around and tossed the pipe wrench onto a nearby table. He whipped out a smartphone from his pocket, texting an unknown recipient. “Everything is under control and discretion, well done.” he texted.

While attending to his text messages, a dark, minacious figure rose up a few feet behind him, its towering stature slowly revealed as it gradually stood upright. Thick, inky blackness shrouded its colossal, humanoid form, permeating the air with an oppressive, unparalleled dread.

With Marlin's husband oblivious to the presence of the divine, the dark entity slowly raised its head. Its eyes, glowing ominously in bright crimson further exuded its aura of malevolence, a symbol of mortality, ready to strike.