#every time she fells from the world seems like she forgets that she's a human

[tapakah0]

hi hi hope you have an amazing day!!! I love your art and don’t forget to drink water!!!

ok bye byeee

*runs away*

[herofics]

No Longer Mine

A/N: So, basically this is about Gojo’s s/o “dying” and he eventually moves on with his life and then it turns out his s/o wasn’t dead after all. It’s basically all angst tbh. There's probably gonna be more parts to this eventually but idk...

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there when you needed him most, and now you were gone. You were burnt beyond recognition. If he didn’t know it was your body on the floor, he wouldn’t have even known there had been a human there once. There were still traces of your cursed energy around, even if they were faint. You must have tried to resist whoever had done this. Of course you would have, you wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. He made Shoko check the DNA results a dozen times, but it was always the same result. It had been your body that was found in the house you shared with him. You were gone, and so was your shared home. Burned to the ground by god knows who, with you inside it.

Gojo didn’t really accept you being gone for a long time. He was so numb, and your death almost killed him. All those lonely nights with just him and a bottle of strong liquor, talking to you. Talking to an empty room, while downing so much liquor that it would have put a normal person in the hospital. He talked about how angry he was, angry towards himself for not having caught whoever had taken you from him, angry at you for leaving him, angry at the world for all of it. One night, you started talking back to him. You told him how it wasn’t his fault and that you loved him. That’s when he knew he was in trouble. The dead don’t speak, they don’t converse with anyone, that’s not how the world works.

That was about a year after you died. He stopped drinking and your ghost started fading away. Your voice got more distant and the image of you got muddier. He didn’t want to lose you again. He didn’t want to forget, but somehow remembering was worse. Even though it was muddy, he could still see your smile. Oh, how he loved that smile.

Eventually, he found someone new. He fell in love again, but you never left him completely. The memories he shared with you were still dear to him, even if they were painful. He visited your grave every year on the anniversary of your death. He left flowers on your grave and while he wasn’t a religious man, he prayed that wherever you were, you had found peace.

Four years later, you reappeared. You were found unconscious on some side street in Tokyo and taken to the hospital. After you woke up, the first call you made was to Gojo.

“Hi, I’m sorry I missed dinner last night. I’m in the hospital, but I don’t know what happened”

���Whoever you are, this isn’t funny” a cold voice answered back.

“What do you mean Toru? It’s me, it’s (Name)”

“Don’t call this number again” Gojo said and hung up.

You were confused to say the least. You’d missed dinner, sure, but there was no way he would act that coldly towards you just because of that. Then you noticed the date on your hospital band. It was four years more than it should’ve been. That must have been a mistake, right? You started to panic, your heart rate was getting erratic and you were having trouble breathing. A nurse came in, trying to calm you down.

“What’s the date today? Please, what is it?” you asked frantically.

“It’s 17th of August 2016”

“2016?!” you gasped.

Who could be so cruel as to make a call like that to him? Sure, he had made many enemies in his life, but most of them were dead and wouldn’t be the type to pull such an egregious prank on him anyway. It couldn’t be you, it couldn’t possibly be you. He had confirmed your death himself. More importantly, Shoko had confirmed it, multiple times. It had been your cursed energy, your DNA. There was no doubt about it.

“Who was that?” his fiancée asked as he had put down the phone.

“Just a wrong number” Gojo muttered.

“You seem a bit rattled, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, it was nothing” Gojo said, brushing off his fiancée.

The call kept bothering him. Gojo couldn’t sleep that night and just laid in bed, awake, while his lover laid beside him, sleeping like a log. The thought of you being alive kept him awake all night. Could it really be possible? Had Shoko been wrong? Had he been wrong? He couldn’t get that little voice out of his head. That little nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him he needed to go to that hospital, he needed to make sure. Early the next morning, he made his way to the hospital.

You had been given some sedatives, because of how badly you had panicked when you found out what year it was. You’d been gone for four years, and you didn’t remember a single thing about it. When you woke up, you were groggy, and you weren’t really feeling great. You were still in shock about the missing four years.

“You were dead” a familiar voice said from the end of your bed.

“Toru?” you asked, blinking a bit to focus your vision better.

“You were dead” he repeated, but this time his voice wavered.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned.

“There was a body, in the rubble of our burned down house…”

“What…?” you whispered.

Gojo was still standing by the end of your bed. You were really there, clear as day. He was afraid that if he touched you, this would all turn out to be some kind of illusion. Still, he couldn’t help himself as he moved closer to you and reached his hand out to touch your cheek. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was too afraid, so he just held his hand next to your face, scared that you would disappear at any moment.

“Toru?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “What happened?”

“You died (Name)... or at least we thought you did. It’s been four years since then” Gojo wasn’t sure if he should tell you about his engagement, but he wanted to be honest with you, like you’d been with each other before. “I moved on. I had to, losing you almost killed me”

Gojo’s hand fell back to his side and he hung his head. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He was just so confused.

It was heartbreaking to hear the pain in his voice, but you still felt angry. Even though you rationally knew it had been years for him, for you that missed dinner was yesterday. For you, he had found someone else overnight. Your love for him was just as strong as it had ever been, but he clearly didn’t feel the same anymore.

“I don’t have any memory of the past four years. Did you know that? To me, I last saw you yesterday, and now you’re saying you found someone else?”

“I-”

“You don’t need to explain. I get it, but I would have waited. I wouldn’t have given up on you” you said tearfully, looking away from him.

“I did look for you (Name). Your death almost killed me, Ava saved me after I hit rock bottom”

“That’s her name? Ava?” you asked, the sadness evident in your voice.

“Yes… we’re engaged"

"Oh”

It felt like someone punched you in the stomach. You felt sick, empty. He was engaged? The love of your life had moved on with someone else. He’d left you behind, a long time ago, apparently.

“I think you should leave” you sniffled, wiping the tears from your cheeks, trying to appear strong. Even though you felt everything but.

“I don’t-” Gojo started, but stopped himself. You probably didn’t want to know. “Of course, whatever you want” he sighed and turned to leave.

As Gojo left the room, he gave you one more glance. You looked broken, and he was certain it was his fault. Why hadn’t he kept looking? Why had he given up on you? No matter what anyone had told you, you would have kept going. You wouldn’t have given up until you found him. So why did he?

The second Gojo left the room and closed the door, you broke down. You were sobbing, burying your face into a pillow to stop anyone from hearing your cries. The person you loved since you were kids at Jujutsu High, the one you’d given your heart, soul and body to, had left you behind. You had nothing to go back to. You’d been robbed of four years of your life, and now it felt like your future was gone too. It all just felt like a massive lie, like someone was having fun at your expense. Your old life was gone.

[catasoph]

Return

Gally x f!reader

Summary: (Y/N) was alone the longest of time. Forgetting how a home or love feelt like, until a temperamental glader saved her and gave her a place to belong.

Words: 11.4k

Warnings: loneliness, suicidal thoughts, drinking, gunshots/wounds, trust issues, panic attacks, violence, kind of hurt/comfort

Authors note: My apostrophe stopped working through this. Please dont come at me. I already spend too much time on this. XD

The sun was just setting when a young woman walked into the club. The walls were crumbling down. All the beautiful wallpaper that once adorned the house was gone, leaving only cold stone behind. A few parts were sprayed full of graffiti. It showed obscurities and perverseness. Everything only to get by in a heartless world. The women walked in, carefully, scanning the room and nodding to a few familiar faces but never talking. Her first way was up to the bar, getting countless strong drinks to down her sorrow in. She sat there watching the people sway around her until she also felt her world taking down the framework around it, so it could move freely. Her legs automatically found their way to the dance floor, because she had been here too many nights already. Trying to forget the outside world. She memorized every wall and corridor. The little cracks everyone only looked at when they had one too many while they tried not to puke. She had mastered the art of avoiding the disappointment that lay outside waiting for her to come again at sunrise and swallow her whole.

The woman was (Y/N) (L/N) formerly property of WCKED, now all alone.

She danced until her legs hurt and her eyes were too tired to stay open any longer. Most people had already filled out hours ago, leaving her with the usual companions and her solitude until she also decided to leave. Not looking at the few remaining guests that were laying on the floor unconscious or sleeping. The nodding to the few that were still standing was reserved for the beginning of the evening. So nobody would dare try coming up to her.

When she opened the thick wooden door, where splinters were coming off and the color had already fainted, she left the darkness behind and stepped out into the light. A new day had come but for (Y/N) the roles were reserved. The light was mocking her, holding up a mirror she couldnt look into because all the sunshine had vanished. At least the club was dark, indulging her fantasy that the whole world was dark and that it wasnt only her mistake.

(Y/N) started her way down the sandy alleys, where rubble was laying next to other humans. It was true that not only her world was filled with darkness. It just had different shades. When a drunk guy was singing old lullabies with his friends, it didnt seem so dark to her. Only a filthy grey. But if (Y/N) looked too closely she would see that the old lady who, a few weeks ago, gave spare food to strangers who couldnt afford it, was now laying on the floor trying to gnaw her own leg off to stop the virus, the world got a whole lot darker.

(Y/N) closed her eyes for a moment to feel the warmth that was radiating down on her that would get almost unbearable in a few hours. When she opened them again three guards with greyish pants and a bulletproofed vest came towards her. It was not unusual to see some people patrolling the streets but these guys were sent from wicked. The helmet they wore was too expensive and protective to belong to anyone else than the remaining citizens from the last city. They were coming for her. Wicked had found her again. Immediately she turned around, trying to escape the other way but also from that side guards were circling in on her.

Her world was still turning, her feet stumbling over each other while her breathing became labored. She needed to focus, get control over herself. A hand touched her arm, yanking her forward so that she fell to the ground. The guards were around her, pointing their large weapons at her defenseless body. They were coming for blood.

When she finally stood straight a shot was heard and one of her legs gave out while a sharp pain pierced through her thigh.

"Kill me." (Y/N) breathed out.

"KILL ME! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Followed her scream. If wicked was to take her final moments then everybody would hear it. She would fight till the end, even though she had already given up. There was no way she would give wicked the satisfaction to do this quietly.

"Or are you afraid?" A deranged laugh split her throat as she looked at the guards that still hadn`t pulled the trigger.

"Big bad wicked afraid of a little girl?" Her smile showed her teeth as if she was warning the guards not to come near a hungry wolf. (Y/N) slowly stood up, her (e/c) eyes never leaving the guards in front of her and registering every movement. The woman was playing a dangerous game.

"Stay on the ground!" A booming voice filtered through the helmet. (Y/N) tsked but obeyed, pressing her hands onto her gunshot to stop the bleeding. Her eyes found the ground, closing, preparing for her final breath while thinking of all the people she loved and lost. A rain of shots was heard but no one pierced her skin. Loud thuds followed accompanied by dull footsteps. Slowly her head lifted again and her lashes flew open only to be met with the most trusting green eyes she had ever seen.

"Youre safe now." He spoke quietly. (Y/N) nodded dumbly, all air knocked out of her. The man gently took her hands from her wound to inspect it and she just let him have it. In the background, different voices made their way through the ringing in her ears. "They should take on guys on their level." "They can never just leave us alone." Her eyes flitted over the ground, looking at the guards that only seconds ago were threatening to kill her, were now laying dead on the same mud they always spitted on. A hand gently laid on her cheek pushing her face straight again, to look at the boy that had rescued her. "Dont look at them. Keep your eyes on me." She did. He gently put a band-aid over her bloody leg.

"The bullet is not in your leg anymore, but the wound still needs to get cleaned properly. You can come with us. We can treat you at our hideout." The man stood again, his serious eyes observing the alley they had found her in.

"Where they coming for you?" It was an obvious question and a loaded one at that. He asked if they came for her specifically or if it was just a coincidence. (Y/N) only nodded, avoiding eye contact, instead fidgeting with the sleeves of her jumper.

"I understand. Im Gally. Im sure we will find a place for you." A smile grazed his lips that she could only return.

He abruptly turned around and put (Y/N)s arm gently around his shoulder while bringing his own around her upper body to steady her. The other guards had been going down the little alley to search for other intruders but returned quickly to the van that was standing just a few feet away from the massacre. Gally placed her gently on the end of their car, leaving her to find her own way into a comfortable position while the other man climbed in behind her.

"You want to adopt her?" Another guard asked, taking off his mask and showing his gray hair and serious face. Wrinkles adorned every part of it, and his cheeks looked a bit hollow.

"She needs our help," Gally whispered, hoping that the girl he barely knew, didnt hear their conversation. It was deadly silent for a moment. Both men starring each other down before the older one of the two relaxed his stance. "If we take her, she is your responsibility." "Yes, Sir," Gally replied seriously.

"Im Jack. I`m one of the crew leaders to observe the patrols around the city. Who are you?" The gray-haired man asked, lifting his eyebrows which only added more to his natural wrinkles. (Y/N) was silent, only turning her hands to find more blood on the backside. "Why is Wicked after you?" He didnt sound threatening. His voice carried understanding and compassion while his eyes held a conflict. He needed to know but he didnt want to prod. (Y/N)s eyes slowly lifted, acknowledging the man but never moving a muscle to speak. Instead, her eyes flitted over to Gally, who was already looking at her, trying to find something she would never show. Jack huffed in exasperation but let the topic go. Leaning back in the tight space and clutching his gun whereas Gally watched her for the whole ride with a serious expression.

The car drive was silent. All the guards had taken off their helmets, so slow breathing could be heard from everyone. But (Y/N) didnt lift her head to look at them. Her eyes were intensely focused on her hands which were smeared with dirt and blood. Not just her own but also the blood that was rushing out of the lifeless bodies to pool around her feet.

Only shortly after they arrived at a large warehouse. The doors to the van opened just to reveal more people in the same attire, running around and chatting. In here non of them wore their helmets. Feeling safe with the comrades they fought alongside who had probably saved their life more than once.

The crew that had rescued (Y/N) filtered out of the car to walk slowly in the same direction. Gally was the last to step out of the vehicle. Jack found his eyes and nodded towards the women they had found while stretching out a hand for Gally to hand him his weapon before he turned around and left them alone.

"I will bring you up to the medics first and then we will find you a room." The blond man explained quickly while helping her up to her feet. Together they hopped up a flight of stairs and put her on a bed that looked the cleanest out of all of them.

A tall, lanky woman stepped in. Brushing her unruly red hair out of her face and pushing her glasses up on her pointy nose.

"Someone new?" Her voice sounded cheery even though she looked like she hadnt slept for days. Caring for the wounded, praying that they wouldnt die.

"Yes, found her in front of a club. Wicked shot her." Gally explained monotonously.

The woman peeled (Y/N)s trouser leg away to have a better look at the wound.

"No worries, dear. The old grouch can stay." A laugh bubbled out of her throat that made (Y/N) untense her shoulders and relax a bit but never letting Gallys hand go through the whole procedure.

"It looks pretty good. The bullet is not in your leg anymore so I will just clean your wound and close it with some stitches. You had some luck, dear." The woman laughed while carefully treating her wound. "Whats your name?" Silence stretched through the room, curling up on another bed and making itself comfortable to stay.

"Well, Im Robin. The whole lot calls me Rob though. Are you planning on staying with us?" No words left (Y/N)s mouth but instead nodded her head slowly.

"I see. Youre not one to talk? I can talk for both of us." Robin smiled truthfully and already opened her mouth to continue until her eyes fell on Gally still standing in the room and eyeing the two women curiously. (Y/N) could see the intention in Rob's eyes, before she could even form a word (Y/N)s hand found its way to Gally`s, making her intentions clear. The doctor's gaze snapped immediately over to their intertwined fingers and a smirk danced its way onto her lips.

The blond man gently put his hand around (Y/N)s upper body while she laid her arm over his shoulders to stabilize. Together they limped out of the room and down a long corridor to the sleeping quarters. They all had little numbers messily scribbled on them or were customized with graffiti. Gally explained that it made it easier for greenies to find their room. A strange word. Greenie. A small smile tucket at her lips hearing it.

"Okay, all done. You need to keep the wound clean for 48 hours. After that, you have to wash it twice a day. Come by tomorrow morning and I will show you how to bandage your leg." Robin smiled at (Y/N), her head moving over to Gally to nod at him.

"Take her away. She is all yours. Give her a nice room and keep her safe from all the animals out there." Gallys deadpanned expression morphed into one of confusion. One of his eyebrows arched up, whereas his mouth stayed in a thin line. Robin turned with a little giggle around and left the room. Finding a new victim she could terrorize.

"This one is mine. The one next to it is free so it would be easiest for you to stay there or do you want to keep looking?" (Y/N) shook her hand and took a symbolic step forward with one of her legs, waiting for Gally to follow and get her into her new home.

Gally placed her softly onto her bed, the mattress dipping under her weight and the bedframe squeaked pathetically.

"Are you okay?" A nod and then silence followed. The man shuffled awkwardly on his feet, wanting to say something but hesitating. His mouth opened a few times but only hot air emerged.

"I will leave you alone now." He settled on, in the end. Gally turned around, ready to leave but not taking a step because (Y/N)`s hand wormed her way back into his, tugging him back, asking silently for him to stay.

He turned around and looked into her eyes. Memories were flashing him then that would stay a mystery to him but he could see her pain. Desperately wanting to have someone. So he just settled on the floor in front of her and let their interlinked hands hang between them.

The day was already going towards its end when the woman decided to speak her first words.

"Can I trust them?" Such a simple question got Gally to waver. Squeezing their hands on impulse as if to tell them everything would be alright.

"Of course, you can trust me." A shy smile grew on her face, looking directly into his eyes while answering.

"Ohh silly, I know I can trust you. What about the other guards?"

"They saved me. They gave me a life and something to fight for. I trust them with my life." Her smile never fell but a glow was added to her eyes. Tiny so nobody would have noticed but Gally had studied her the entire day and it was as if a bit of life went back to her.

"So, I will do the same."

Weeks went by and the everyday life started again. (Y/N)s wound had healed completely and Gally went daily out for patrol but always returned. They had found their own little routine. Gally just came back from his evening patrol, opening the door to his room and taking off his heavy clothing with an exhausted sigh. Life out in the streets was hard. Everyone tried to survive. They stole, fought, and killed. Betraying the community they once had. Forgetting that their real enemy had built walls so high they could never climb them. It was brutal and the peace they tried to bring and reunite all the people that got forgotten never seemed to be enough. A shy knock was heard on his door.

"Come in!" He said while pulling his shirt over his head. A small smile grazed (Y/N)s lips when they stepped foot into the room, holding two bowls filled to the brim with vegetable soup.

"I made a recipe from my mom today." The bowls were put gently onto the table that was standing in the room with two chairs accompanying it. Gally took his seat opposite her and thanked her.

"How was she?" Curious eyes looked up to him, while (Y/N) blew the soup on her spoon before eating it.

"My mom?" A nod followed, staring down at his own soup.

"She had the best recipes. She made the most delicious dishes from cheap ingredients." A chuckle left her lips. Soup forgotten at her side whereas Gally's was almost completely gone.

"She always sang these old songs while cooking. Swaying her hips until my dad joined her for a quick dance. They looked so happy together." A wistful smile played on their lips, eyes unfocused while remembering everything she had with them.

"She thought up stories and told them to me before bringing me to bed."

"She sounds like a good mother." (Y/N)s eyes snapped back to the blond boy in front of her. Crashing back into a reality she couldnt escape.

"Im sorry." Gallys frown deepened, pushing his empty bowl away from him to lean back in his chair and cross his arms.

"Its okay. I dont know my parents so I dont miss them. Wicked gave me a different family." It should spark happiness that he had found what so many were still searching for but his eyes were dark with sadness. Guilt spread in his veins like venom and paralyzed him every move. It was a lie that he didnt care. Maybe he didn`t care for his parents but he definitely for the family that he had lost.

(Y/N) was standing in the kitchen preparing supper for Gally. His favorite food was sizzling on the stove. An easy curry with rice. The meal had been done for a while but no noise from the vans driving back in was heard yet and no other hungry man had found its way into the kitchen. Instead, the hideout was awfully quiet. It appeared as if (Y/N) was on her own. Ghost's from another time chasing around her. With a gnawing feeling in her stomach, she took the extra portion she had prepared to bring it over to the medical room where Robin had been hauled up all day. The older woman regularly forgot to eat during the day, which led to her fainting in the middle of the corridor. Since that day (Y/N) had made it her job to provide food for half the guards in the building and paid extra attention to Robs eating patterns. She had a plate loaded to the brim in her hands, carefully watching her steps so nothing would spill and tumble to the floor. When she appeared in the open doorway, Rob is entranced in a paper laying in front of her, hurriedly scribbling notes on the notebook beside her.

(Y/N) gently knocked on the doorframe so as to not startled her. The doctor's hurried gaze flitted upwards, catching her smile and returning it with relief.

"Thank goodness its you." She breathed relieved, leaning back in her chair while (Y/N) placed her food in front of her.

"Who else should it be?"

"I thought they had returned from the attack and would swarm my office now." The woman lazily gestured, before digging into the hot meal in front of her.

"Attack?"

"Darling, have you not heard it? There were rumors that another gang was making trouble. All most all of the guards went out to keep the other citizens safe." Robin didn`t realize the effect her words had on the woman in front of her. Just enjoying her meal and trusting everyone would make it back safe.

Loss was nothing new. Everyone had lost someone or something. Their family, their friends, their home, their city. But some people had lost more than others. Their hope, their faith, their trust, and their sanity.

"Tha… That's why Gally isnt back yet." (Y/N)'s eyes found the floor, her world swaying, turning, and twisting to throw her off her balance. Her breath became short and rigid. Hand gripping the doorframe tightly to remain standing, while a piercing ring stayed in her ear. She couldnt remember it. She couldnt remember his laugh, how his hand felt. She couldnt remember the color of his eyes. She couldnt remember him. There was just darkness. The pictures she desperately tried to save in her mind were already trying to flee. Burning away to ashes she couldnt grasp. How would she live like that? With the distant memory of the happy life, she could have had before everything fell apart again.

He would fall, die, tumble to the ground like leaves the only difference would be that there would be nothing poetic about it.

He would fall and she would fall with him. At a different time and a different place with a different feeling but they would end up at the same place. Laying together as if it was their destiny that their fates got entangled.

"(Y/N)! Darling!" A loud voice came muffled towards her still ringing ears. Her eyes focused on a woman with red hair. She remembered her. Robin. She remembered his laugh and the wrinkles around his eyes. His favorite food and the places he felt safest. She remembered everything but still felt her life glide through her hands, shattering on the cold concrete floor.

"You`re okay," Rob stated, (Y/N) wasnt sure if she said it to convince herself or the girl that was still violently shivering on the floor. "He will come back. I promise." A promise she had no control over. The (H/C) haired woman scoffed, scratching her hands. Her body imagined a place to hide where the pain couldnt find her. Numb it the only way she knew how with a bottle of vodka in her hands and the desire to forget in her head. Instead, she nodded. Letting Robin take her hands and place her in one of the beds to sit in silence together.

"Look at me!" The woman gripping her shoulders orders.

"Breath. Do you feel my heartbeat? Breathe with it." Her tone softened, calming down with every intake of air. (Y/N)s bright red head was returning back to a healthier color. She could feel the sweat trickling down her nape and the tears on her cheeks. (Y/N) became overly aware of everything touching her body. The clothes on her body scratched and itched while the hands on her arms burned through her skin.

She mustered the younger one a bit longer before returning to the food that was still standing on her table, only half eaten. No one dared say a word. The air filled with tension that was created from the outside and would only break when Gally returned. (Y/N) looked out of the window onto the sandy streets where people crawled around like insects hoping to not get crushed by the world. She was listening intently for noises. Be it a gunshot or tires screeching on asphalt, anything to predict the outcome she didnt want to know. But the first thing she heard was a motor rumbling and people yelling even though she couldnt understand their words. Her head whipped around and her feet slipped onto the ground. Sprinting out of the room to see for herself. She arrived at the parking space, seeing everyone helping to bring the equipment back. Her eyes nervously scanned the crowd, rushing through the mass of people to find the usual blond-haired boy.

She didnt leave Gallys side for the remainder of the evening, pressing into his side. When nighttime came around the thought of leaving terrified her. Her bed seemed too empty and lonely. No one would chase her nightmares away that were sure to come. But Gally sensed her distress. Never leaving his side and touching him when the situation would allow it.

"(Y/N)." A soft voice spoke behind her, getting her to whirl around and crash into a broad chest that she engulfed greedily with tears spilling once more over her face.

"You`re back." The hiccuped, letting Gally press them closer together so she could hear his heartbeat.

"I will always return."

They settled in and got comfortable. (Y/N)s hand immediately finding his when he got in beside her. They faced each other, staring into their eyes and hoping to find answers to questions they wouldnt dare ask.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" Gally asked with a husky voice, pulling his blanket back and gesturing towards the other side. Huge eyes found his, scared and desperate. A small nod was the only answer he got, reminding him of their first days together when talking seemed to be too much for her. Overwhelmed by her emotions.

"I was also at wicked." Gally raised an eyebrow. Confusion and curiosity settled on his features.

"They tested if I was immune. I wasnt so they didnt send me into the maze but all the other children. Th…They hurt them. Put them through horrible tests and I couldnt do anything. I was so helpless. When they didnt need me anymore they send me out into a world I didnt know. I lost everything all over again." Gally scooted closer, engulfing her in his strong arms and feeling her breath against his neck. "I tried to save them and get them out but... I failed. I couldnt save a single one. That`s why wicked was after me."

"Thank you." He took a small break, a calming breath leaving his mouth. "For trying."

Gally was sitting at the edge of the roof, feet dangling in the air while he stared straight ahead. His hands held onto a white stone with a smooth surface where a sun was carved into. Reminding him of his promise to never give up and keep going. He didnt know who he had promised. Didnt know who he belonged to and what feelings to associate with it but it is the only memory wicked let him keep. Or it was just the only one that was too strong for them to take. The stone had been in his pocket since the day he arrived at the glade. His only personal item besides the clothes on his body. It was his and he kept it safe. Promising every evening that he would see the sun the next day.

Light tapping of feet was heard behind him, closing in on his figure. Someone else placed themselves next to him, their feet finding their space next to his not afraid of falling. (Y/N).

"You like this place." She stated bluntly. Keeping her eyes facing forward onto the huge gray wall illuminating the landscape. The difference was significant. The outer parts of the city where they lived were in ruins. The flare spreads uncontrollably, leaving people to die of poverty and sickness. Whereas the wall hid the rich and lucky. Mocking them with their cage of metal. The last city was majestic in Gally`s eyes. The buildings were so high and bright that they seemed to grow bigger the more often he looked at them. This wall reminded him of everything he was fighting for.

"They took everything." Silence made its way between them. Motionlessly listening to the sounds that the wind could not carry over the barrier. Wishing they could listen to something but the screams of agony coming from the streets below them.

"Yes, it always reminds me of my goal." The wind picked up, flying through their hair and moving their clothing in rhythm.

"They took a lot from you, didnt they?"

"In the Glade. At first, everyone was afraid of me but Alby. He gave me a chance so that I could show what I can do. I started building with the other few boys we had back then. The fear shifted to respect. I didnt realise it back then but they became my family. Until Thomas came. He scared me so much. His whole recklessness. It felt like he wanted to take my family from me." He laughed dryly, his hands still holding motionlessly onto his lucky charm, never wiping away the tears escaping his eyes.

"Now look at me. I was the one who destroyed my family. If I would have just made different decisions. Maybe Chuck would still be alive and we would be together." His voice never wavered. Glad to finally speak the truth that had taken countless nights of sleep from him. The shame was thrumming in his veins never stopping to flow. His head cast downwards, tears falling onto his dark trousers, not able to taint them.

(Y/N) breathed slowly. Her eyes watchfully examined the desert that lay before her.

"It hurts." Her gaze swept over to Gally. "I know. I wont give you the same empty phrases. It hurts to lose what you just wanted to protect. But for all the boys that died in the Glade, Wicked set them up for it. The selfish desire of rich people did that to you." She took a breath, trying to compose herself. "You shouldnt blame yourself. It`s not your fault."

Her hand gently lifted, wiping the tears away that Gally had stubbornly ignored. Her hand lingers on his cheek, stroking over the freckles gracing his face. When he finally turns his head, looking at the girl that was smiling sadly up at him he surged forward. His right hand met the asphalt to keep them steady where as his other one held her face gently. His chapped lips found hers just for a delicate second. Retracing quickly only for her to chase after him, holding him close.

Their days didnt get easier. Life kept on going dragging them with, but it finally felt like they had a purpose. Something to live for that wasnt hate or revenge. They lived for their future, for love. They lived for each other. Realizing that no one would fight their battles besides themselves.

"You`re okay, Rob. Lets move to the bed." The redhead clung desperately at (Y/N). Her legs barely worked and gave out again when the gunshots rang through the hideout. "Lay down. Relax for a bit. I will find out whats going on." She squeezed her hand gently, pulling a blanket over the shivering woman before rushing out of the room and down the corridor to find out what was happening.

Their routine didnt change much. Gally went out for patrol every day. Getting better and earning the trust of the other soldiers so that his rank increased. Directing small groups of guards through the city like the leader he was. It was a sunny day. (Y/N) was helping Rob in the infirmary. Moving the injured and bringing the medications the other woman had brewed. Until she heard loud gunshots ringing. Robin was on the ground in seconds. Holding her hands tightly over her ears and shaking violently.

She found Jack, the guard from the day they had saved her, in the radio room. Turning around immediately when he heard someone enter.

"I want backup down at the garage!" He hollered while marching straight in that direction the woman hot on his heels. "Stay behind me. I cant let anything happen to you, darling." He smiled genuinely before pulling down his helmet and gripping his gun tightly when he heard the screeching of tires. The first van arrived and the guards swarmed a dark-haired male, a blond boy, and a woman with short hair. They stayed at a reasonable distance but pointed their guns directly at their faces. The second van wasnt as peaceful. Grunting and screaming could already be heard when they just drove in. When the doors open a soldier and a man fall out of the van who was punching him violently. Immediately the three teenagers swarmed around them. The girl spoke calming words that got the foreign man to let go.

"Whats happening?" (Y/N) was a little out of breath, gripping the doorframe tightly while her eyes zeroed in on the gray-haired man. "The shots came from the wall. There is a mass panic down in the ruins. But Gally and the others are okay. They reached out via funk. They are on their way with a few extra men. So stay back until I deem it safe." His voice was professional, filling the tension in the room with orders and making his way already outside before (Y/N) could answer.

"Where all on the same side here!" Gallys loud voice broke the tension, bringing all eyes to him.

"What do you mean same side? Who the hell are you?" Gally hesitated for a moment before pulling down his mask.

"Hey, Greenie." The new arrivals looked at him shocked. Eyes wide, mouth trying to form words that just wouldnt come. The first to react was the dark-haired man. He leaped at Gally and punched him straight in the face which made them both fall over. Jack was immediately at their side ready to pull the stranger off but before he could the blond one spoke up. Soothing words reached his companion so that he let go of Gally.

"I can help with that. Follow me." Gally turned around ready to lead the group deeper into the hideout. Angry and disapproving looks were exchanged between the man that had attacked Gally and the blonde one.

"H...How is this possible? We watched you die" "No, you left me to die, and if we hadnt found you when we did. You would be dead right now." Jack untensed his stance, lowering his weapon a bit but still ready to kill if anyone made a wrong move.

"What are you doing here?" Gally continued.

"Minho. Wicked has him here. Were looking for a way in."

(Y/N) sprang out from behind Jack, pushing her way forward through the other guards only to stand in front of Gally and examine his face. Her hand was reaching out but centimeters before touching she backed away.

"Are you hurt?" Her eyebrows drew together in concern, looking behind Gally to see the others had stopped walking as well and were watching them intensely.

Lawrence was an intimidating man. He didnt give up without getting something in return. The deformed man was always out for profit. He was greedy and (Y/N) was sure if he had the luck to stay at Wickeds side on the other side of the walls, he always tried to tear down, he would have forgotten about all the poor people as well. Putting his greedy hands against a clean window to watch the people, he was now protecting, burn.

"I`m fine." (Y/N) mustered him for a few seconds. MInho was a familiar name. Gally had talked about him repeatedly. They seemed to have been some kind of friends in the maze but the people he had thought his family had left him behind to die.

"Dont be reckless. You dont have to save everyone." Both of them knew how dangerous it was to get into the last city. Few had tried and non of them had survived. It was a suicide mission and Gally knew it.

"I need to save him." He whispered, his eyes desperately searching hers for an ounce of understanding. But before he could find it, her eyes drop to the floor and her head shakes in disappointment. He carefully reaches for her hand and squeezes it softly. Reassuring her that he would not leave her alone in this life. She was not meant to see all the horrors of life by herself.

"I will return. I promise." Their hands fall lifeless between them. Gally rushes past her to show the Gladers the way to Lawrence, their doom.

When the conference was over. Gally, Newt, and Thomas got ready to scout out their way to the last city. Leaving Brenda, Jorge, and Frypan for leverage behind. Brenda was finding a seat next to (Y/N) in what appeared to be the kitchen space. The wooden chair creaked under her weight but the mysterious woman never lifted her chin.

Gally spoke for the group of newcomers. The dark-haired man, named Thomas, offered up his blood to heal the sick man temporarily. While they discussed some details about their deal (Y/N) stood in the background watching the group of strangers.

They didnt pay her any mind besides the girl. She felt (Y/N)s presence in her back, staring intently at them. Determining if they were a threat. Her eyes flickered over every person when someone shifted but stayed longer on Thomas. She looked at him as if he was the pest. waltzing in to destroy her dream. It was clear she didnt trust him or any of them.

The night dragged on. (Y/N) feared it would be bright again before they returned. Making it harder for them to slip from shadow to shadow and disappear into the darkness. They could get noticed by Wicked without them even making it near their friend. But abruptly the door flew open and the three stood healthy and safe in front of them.

"Do you think it will work?" They didnt look at each other. It was obvious they were talking about the idea of freeing their friend from Wicked. Ignoring every sign that told them to stop, to turn around and run, because if they took one more step they would fall into the depths of hell and couldnt crawl their way out like the last times. "Its reckless and stupid." (Y/N) retorts, hoping Gally would still hear her disapprove even though they were already picking up their bags. Her eyes tried to scorch the skin that was on his spine while he was busy leaving the room, to break into a city with enormous high-security measures. After they were out of earshot (Y/N) picked up her voice again.

"But they will not stop until he is out. Gally is their best bet." She turned her head towards the brunette, smiling sadly up at her.

(Y/N) sprang up, to wrap her arms around Gally and feel his muscles tightening around her while his heart beat against his chest.

Everyone found their place around a large table. Silence filled the air. The three men were just staring down at the table whereas the others were mustering them curiously. Frypan was the first to fill the empty void.

"Well, did you find a way in?" Thomas glanced nervously at Gally, shifting on his feet uncomfortably but never speaking up. Gally sighed exhausted. The bags under his eyes were prominent for having been out all day.

"Its Teresa." (Y/N)s head lifted. She knew that name. Memories of a dark-haired girl flashed through her mind that could not be older than her but had already lost her heart. Everyone was afraid of the flare. The disease creeping into your bones, stripping you naked of all they had been before. But what terrified (Y/N) the most was the empty eyes of people who had lost too much. Their heart was emptied out. Feelings thrown in a cage that nobody could open. She had seen that in Teresa when they were barely children. Teresa never had a consciousness. Selling her friends out to get what she needed. She was a vicious beast in disguise.

"No, there has got to be another way." His voice was rigid. He was pacing back and forth. Ready to carve his way inside if he could leave the girl that had betrayed them more than once out of harm's way.

"Like what? Youve seen the building, she is our only way in." A bit of anger seeped into his voice at Thomas stubbornness to discard his plan. "Do you really think she would just help us?" Frypan spoke up from his side of the table, gesturing lazily at the blueprints in from of the group. "I dont plan on asking her for permission." Gally chuckled lightly. (Y/N) would have expected them to look surprised or mildly uncomfortable but no one batted an eye at the statement of the soldier.

A beat of silence rang through the room. Tension seeping in and creating a fog no one wanted to walk through.

"Am I missing something here? This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?"

"I like her," Gally stated, letting (Y/N) and him agree on at least one thing that night.

A gasp left Brenda when Newt pressed Thomas against the fall, screaming at him. Saying without needing to even utter the words that he had failed Minho because they had trusted the girl he loved. (Y/N)s hand immediately found Gallys. Seeking warmth and comfort from the only person that would not skin them alive if they had the chance.

"What? Are you afraid your little girlfriend is going to get hurt? Hmm? This has obviously never been about just rescuing Minho." The blond's eyes were blown wide, his fingers tightly balled to fists while his nails dug into the flesh of his hands. The tension in everyone's body seemed to rise. Holding them all in a choke hold, not allowing them to breathe.

"What are you talking about, Newt?"

"Teresa!" Newt screamed at him. Leaping off his seat, that fell with a loud thud to the ground. He charged across the room, forcing Gally to shift unconsciously in front of (Y/N) to block Newt's view of her. Being a protective wall between them.

"I mean, shes the only reason why Minho went missing in the first place. Now we finally have an opportunity to get him back and what?"

"You dont want to because of her? Because deep down you still care about her, dont you?" Newt spat in his face, body shaking heavenly while panting, trying to get air into his exhausted lungs. "Just admit it." The boy sounded defeated. As if he had lost all purpose and hope for following Thomas, just repeating the same actions if the man was never able to sacrifice something.

"I`m sorry." He turned around. His head faced the ground before rushing off and leaving everyone flabbergasted.

"Newt." Thomas breathed out. His eyes stayed on Newts with a shocked expression. Searching for the source of the angry display. "Dont lie to me!" He screamed. Shoving Thomas once more roughly against the wall, making (Y/N) flinch.

"Dont lie to me." Came it dangerously low, threatening the boy with these simple words. His posture suddenly changes. Regret flashed through his eyes when he slowly lets go of Thomas.

"Im sorry." He whispers towards the boy he had just attacked with eyes that were unseeing. It was as if he had forgotten himself and someone else possessed him for the last few moments, so he could remember but couldn't control.

No one of the remaining people dared to move. They were staring at each other or after Newt. Gally only loosens his grip on (Y/N)s hand after Newt had been gone for a few minutes.

"I will talk to him." Thomas was the first to talk and rush after his friend. Everyone else stayed as if they had been turned to stone. Not talking just existing and hanging in their own thoughts, They didnt look at the blueprint but were just staring into space to find a purpose to keep going, to keep fighting, because this had felt more disastrous than anyone was prepared for.

"I will join your mission."

"Absolutely not." Gally turned abruptly, staring into (Y/N)s determined eyes. The battle was fought silently, not one of them breaking eye contact before Brenda spoke up. "I could use help with the kids." Gallys angry gaze swept over to her, ready to set her aflame while the woman in front of him smirked. Knowing he could not leave her behind.

(Y/N) put a giant pot in front of the Gladers. Having cooked for them so they would all be healthy and prepared for the days to come. They filled up their plates and started eating silently. Thomas and Gally were wrapping up the last details of their plan after Thomas had decided he would use Teresa to get their friend back and bring Newt back home safely and healthy.

They waited till the next evening. Letting everyone rest until they would start with their plan. (Y/N) was laying in Gallys arms. Following the lines on his hands and breathing deeply into their proximity.

"Sooo, you and Gally?" Brenda started, picking innocently at her food, only looking up at the corner of her eye. (Y/N)s cheeks flushed in rosy pink. It didnt go unnoticed by the other girl but she waited patiently for confirmation, so she nodded quickly.

"W…what? Gally? Tall, tough guy Gally? Always a scowl on his face Gally?" Frypan squeaked next to her. His cutlery limply hanging in his hands, food forgotten over the conversation they were having.

"So he was a softie all along," Newt smirked. Only stopping shortly his meal before continuing. Brenda didn`t even bat an eye at the stiff girl in front of her, just silently enjoying the information she got on the stoic glader boy.

"I need you to be safe." She whispers.

"Right back at you." (Y/N) scoffed.

"Im not as reckless as you." Gally chuckled lowly, burying his head into her nape. She smiled wistfully. Knowing she finally had what she always wanted. Her mind was at peace before she fell asleep.

The next day was hectic. They were trying to get everything in order before they would go to the city and had to fight on their own. Lawrence has offered to help. If Gally gave them a way in and placed an electrical device near the power box, they would hack into Wicked`s system to put a record over the cameras and let them walk through the building almost unseen. When the world became dark around them, the three boys once again climbed through the manhole cover to get into the last city and leaving the rest to wait.

When they came back a woman stumbled in front of them. Dirty sack covering her face to keep the way to the hideout anonymous. Newt placed her harshly on a chair, ripping off the sack to give a face to a disheveled Teresa. Her eyes moved around the room, scanning the faces of her kidnappers.

"Gally?" Teresa panted loudly, her eyes focusing on the believed dead glader, who sighed heavily.

"Here is how this is gonna go: where gonna ask you a few questions and you will tell us exactly what we need to know. We'll start off simple. Where is Minho?" Gally leaned against the table. His face not showing the emotion that was brewing inside of him. All the anger, sadness, and fear locked behind an expression no one was able to read. He pushed himself to a standing position. Grabbing a chair and slowly walking towards her.

"You guys don't seriously think…" Teresa's eyes were trying to outrun Gally. Moving around to find kinder eyes, fixating on Thomas when they made eye contact. Gally dropped the chair harshly in front of her, sitting down. His eyes bore holes in her skull. Intimidating her to get what they need.

"Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not gonna help you." A heavy silence filled the room. The air was stuck in Teresa's lungs, too scared to crawl up her throat, out into the world to face the angry man in front of her.

"Well, I don't know. We don't necessarily need her, right?" Gally stands up and spins his chair back to the table. "Not all of her." He grabs a knife from the table, pointing it threateningly at her. "We just need her finger." No smile was playing around his lips to show he enjoyed the theater. Because for him she was once one of them. They had the same fate. (Y/N)s eyes suspiciously shifted over to Gally. Her eyes left Teresa for the first time since she had walked into the room. She knew how much pain she had put all of them through. She could see it in their gestures and the words that were tied back behind a tongue. Sewn up to the tops of their mouth and staying with them forever.

"Now we know you have Minho in the building. Where?"

"He is with the others in holding. Sublevel 3."

"How many others?" Newt spoke up from behind Gally. His posture was just as unreadable as the other ones. The kind smile that Teresa appreciated on her first days in the glade, was chased away by shadows.

"28."

Brenda turned to them. A small smile played at her lips before speaking: "I can make that work."

"No, no you guys don't understand. The whole level is restricted. You can't get in without a thumbprint ID." The tied-up woman scrambled to say. Trying to keep her friends safe but also all the progress they had made.

"That's why you are gonna come with us." The man she loved spoke up for the first time. No empathy or recognition showing through his stone-cold face. She had lost him. Had lost them all. For the hope of letting strangers survive. Would she change her decision if she could?

"Gally, back off," Thomas spoke up. Letting the love he held for Teresa shine through.

"You getting squeamish? I can guarantee you she has done a lot worse to Minho."

"That's not the plan. Back off." Thomas stood up, taking Gally's knife from him without the other resisting.

"Won't make a difference. Do whatever you want to me. You still won't get through the front door. The sensors will pick you up."

"We know, we're tagged. Property of wicked. You're gonna help us with that too." Thomas walked slowly over to her, holding the scalpel towards her. She nodded, silently complying and letting Gally untie her. She takes the scalpel with shaking hands, not looking up until she hears steps rushing towards her. Recognition flashed through her eyes when she saw the woman in front of her. So different but no doubt one of the girls wicked had tested. She was older. Her eyes were hard and her lips downturned. What had happened to you, little bird?

"Ill go first."

Thomas and Newt went with Teresa, whereas Gally and (Y/N) joined them through the underground garage. Making it look casual instead of closely planned. They took the staircase to get to the upper levels to meet fewer people while the cameras are still working. On the ground floor was the electrical box Gally had to open and station the hacking device in that Lawrence gave them. It was a risky plan, sawing the electrical box open in the middle of the stairs. (Y/N) obsessively checked every corner multiple times, clutching her gun between her hands. Fearing someone would come up and shoot them without them even getting near Minho. But Gally did quick and efficient work, having placed the device only a few minutes after them arriving on the floor.

After all of them got their tags out, Gally brought Teresa into another room. Locking her in it without furniture and windows. Preventing almost every option for her to escape or kill herself, while the others got ready. Everyone loaded their weapons, strapped knives onto their body, and Gally, Newt, Thomas, and (Y/N) disguised themselves as guards. She was checking her gun again. When Gally spoke up:

„Stay close to me.“ It was a scared order. Is eyes were trained on the belt, hands trying to tighten it but being unable to move properly. He huffed exasperated when he didn`t hit the hole again. (Y/N) stepped forward, taking his hands in hers, so that he had to acknowledge her. His soft eyes found hers and no words were spoken. She smiled softly, squeezing his hands to reassure him that she would be safe before Gally stepped away and set the plan into motion.

The whole level looked sterilised. No kids were living in these walls but prisoners. Milked until every last drop of them would benefit another human instead of them. They could die if it meant keeping the wealthy alive.

“Let's go.” Gally nods towards the staircase, pulling down his helmet to keep up his appearance while they rushed upstairs to Sublevel 3.

Newt and Thomas opened the heavy metal doors that kept the children from freedom. (Y/N) stayed at the entrance, looking out the doorway to alarm them when new guards were arriving. Promising to keep the children safe that have already given more than they should have.

They stormed the room the children were stationed at. Shooting the guards working for Wicked that were meant to protect the precious serum. It was immoral. Housing them in small cages where they could barely stand. For Wicked, they were objects meant to be exploited.

Part of a conversation trickled into (Y/N)s ear, limiting her concentration for a moment.

"Someone moved him up to the medical wing. Thomas, that's on the other side of the building." Teresa spoke hastily.

"Okay, take me to him. Right now."

"Let me come with you." Newt sounded worn out. Getting tired of wearing heavy clothes and running around a huge building. The disease was clearly getting to him. Painting his face in an ashy gray. He looked like he had already died, only stubbornness keeping him alive.

"No Newt, you're not. You stay here with Gally." Thomas replied. Worry laced his voice while he already moved towards the door.

"You can't do this on your own. Minho comes first, remember?" The fragile boy grabs his arm. His grip was not strong but reminded the other how strong they could be together. Maybe they couldnt win but at least they could fight. Their lives were intertwined and if separated would not be as promising.

"I will stay here with Gally." (Y/N) spoke up from the doorway, lifting the burden of a decision off Thomas's shoulders. Newt nodded at her thankfully, rushing past her to save his friend.

Creakingly the massive steal door opened, Gally rushed in and filled a little bag with glasses full of blue liquid. When the blond steps out and the door falls slowly close behind him an alarm starts going off. Red lights on the walls started flashing, signaling them to find their way outside.

As the others rush off, leaving the couple alone, the children start to mutter over each other. Their faces tense with their mouth half open as if a scream wanted to crawl out of their mouth and they fought it with desperation. (Y/N) turned around halfway, acknowledging the fear present in the room.

"It's okay. We're here to save you. But stay quiet please."

"Okay, we need to get outta here. Now. Stay close to me. Stick together.” Gally stepped forward, addressing the children with clear instructions they would be able to follow in the chaos that lay outside the door, waiting for them.

“You. You guard this with your life, you understand?" He gave a boy that was standing at the front of the group the serum. Before he takes off, leading Wicked`s property outside. (Y/N) stays back, making sure everyone left the room before covering the back of the group.

He took out his walkie-talkie, sending a quick message to their escort: "Brenda, where are you? We are here." Only a moment later a bus drove in front of them, showing a smiling Brenda who immediately opened the doors and helped get the children in, who eagerly scramble inside.

They reached the garage without many complications. Gally stopped abruptly letting the kids be covered by a connecting wall. His eyes roamed towards the other side of the huge parking space, breathing heavily from all the running.

"Stay low. Go go go." Gally lifted his hand, signaling the kids to run in front of him so he could watch the other people on the other side. When all of them are in front of him, he falls in step with (Y/N) and they run alongside each other until they reach a safer spot.

(Y/N) prayed he would find the others quickly and return to them. But her hopes were crushed when shortly after their departure guards appear close to them. In a hushed voice, Brenda tells the children to get down, hoping they will turn around and leave. Slowly they make their way toward the vehicle, guns raised. Brenda looks back at (Y/N), her eyebrows raised in a silent question. Every scenario was rushing through her head. The possibility to leave Gally behind to die was a heavy burden in her heart but she nodded. Her responsibility was bringing the scared children, clutching tightly onto each other, to freedom. Far away from Wicked so they would be safe.

"Where is Thomas?" Brenda asked puzzled, her eyes searching for her friend.

"I thought he was with you," Gally responded, sending the last child into the bus before focusing on the stubborn girl, who was already leaving the bus.

"Wait, wait. Stay here with the kids. Just wait. I'll find him."

“I will come with you.” (Y/N) decided but got a stern look from the man in front of her.

"Stay here. Wait with Brenda and guard the kids. I will come back I promise." His eyes are swimming with fear. Desperate to know that she will be safe until they arrive. His eyes pleaded with her to just give in. Which she did. Knowing they were only losing precious time, so she nodded, before stepping close to him.

"Stay safe." She gave him a quick kiss, hoping to show him that she needed him to return to her, before hopping on the bus as well. Gally pulls down his mask, clutching his gun before jogging back to the wicked compound.

Shortly after they left the wicked building behind, police cars appeared next to them. Chasing them through tight streets, with Brenda trying to shake them off. The bus swang to every side, aspiring to hit the police cars. Brenda turned into a different street, praying to finally get away, only to race towards a barrier, packed with cars and armed soldiers. Brenda reacted immediately, doing an emergency breaking that jolts all of them. They were panting heavily, hearts racing against each other while their bodies were still. No one moved afraid of breaking down.

"Sorry Thomas," Brenda muttered but it got drowned out by the starting motor.

“Hold tight, kids.” (Y/N) spoke loudly while Brenda pushed the gas pedal, making the guards in front of them scramble out of the way before they started driving through the city.

The trailer of the crane dropped in front of her. (Y/N) reached for it to secure it onto the front of the bus. Bullets flew next to her, trying to let at least someone suffer for all the damage they had caused, but the bullets just went past. Not even grazing her. As soon as (Y/N) is inside, the bus gets lifted into the air. Everyone getting pushed against their seat, while (Y/N) held onto one of the handrails in the front.

“Get out of the vehicle!” A voice bellowed.

"Give me the flashing light." Brenda shook her head vehemently. Clutching it tightly to her chest.

"Brenda, I have the bulletproof vest. Give it to me." Her grip faltered slowly. She never offered it up to the other woman but instead, she had to take it. (Y/N) held the light in a white-knuckled grip, stepping out of the bus without looking back at the immunes. She would leave them to Brenda.

"Step away from the vehicle. Put your hands in the air. Drop the weapon."

(Y/N) took slow steps until she was in front of the bus, raising her hands in the same fashion before smirking and firing the flashing light into the sky.

A red light engulfed the night sky, her eyes twinkled pleased. Finally, she was able to return what Wicked had done to her. A few years ago she was incapable of saving her friends. She failed, but she would make sure to give the children packed on the bus a chance for a new life.

When they reached the top height, Brenda whooped. Happy to finally be out of danger, only to get her hopes crushed by the loud creaking of the bumper. Frypan drops them fast outside the city, just stopping a few meters before they hit the ground. The bus falls forward with a loud crash, deafening the screams of the children. When they reached the ground safely, loud panting was heard throughout the vehicle until Brenda's loud voice broke the deadly silence.

A loud explosion is heard that shakes the ground. Everyone scrambles outside, seeing the last city burn with flames. (Y/N) imagined she could hear the screams. They wanted to save and know they helped to destroy. In this world, nothing would ever be without a cost. Without regret and doubt. They would always try to save only to see the world burn again.

"Okay everybody out."

They walk the last few meters over scorched land to the hideout but when they reach it nobody is there.

"Lawrence!" Brenda called out, hoping for a reply.

"Everyone is gone." (Y/N) spoke out the thought, nobody dared to. Her home was abandoned. All the people she had considered family left, without knowing if they would ever see each other again. She could imagine they were preparing for a war against Wicked. Without caring for all the lives they would take. Without caring that Gally was still in there.

"Just get the others. Get everybody out."

A cracking noise was heard from the walkie-talkie that sparks hope. Brenda answered immediately.

"Thomas, you there?"

"We're not gonna make it."

He sounded out of breath and out of hope. Screams and gunshots could be heard from the other side, making (Y/N)s eyes sting. Her heartbeat racing, trying to sprint towards the burning buildings itself. "What are you talking about?"

"No. I'm not leaving you. So forget it." (Y/N) could taste the sour panic in her mouth. She could not stand to watch, to listen. Her feet gave in, making her fall to the ground unceremoniously. She couldnt lose Gally. Not again. He was her life. She couldn't survive it for a second time. Her breath became rapid. All the memories of them together flashed through her mind. The future they wanted laying dead in a casket with cold hands and ash skin. She wouldnt survive it. A loud noise erupted next to her, bright lights she couldnt place making her eyes squint. Strong hands were on her, helping her up from the cold stone floor but she couldnt make out their voices, their faces. Everything was a blur until someone placed a hand over her heart.

“Youre safe. We`re all gonna be okay. We will get them out of there. Help is here.” Frypan spoke slowly toward them while (Y/N) lifted her head to look around. The scenery had shifted towards a metallic aircraft, flying them towards the high flames. Towards Gally. Relief painted over her face, letting her close her eyes before the airplane landed and she had to stand up again. The war was not won yet.

They waited anxiously. Brenda's eyes were glued onto the tunnels, the way the boys should come from. Whereas (Y/N) was pacing around, picking at the skin around her fingernails, while watching the flames climb higher and higher.

“We need the cure!” Minho panted. No air was left in his lungs for talking but Brenda didn`t need to reply. Racing towards the tunnels herself with the boys and (Y/N) closely behind. Gally and (Y/N) were the only ones left with guns, taking over to cover the others from attacks.

“There!” Frypan screamed, pointing at two running figures. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Gally but her heart plummeted when she couldn`t spot Thomas and Newt anywhere.

The city was a mess. Cars were turned around, windows smashed and whole stores set aflame. Corpses were scattered around, while more were added to it.

(Y/N) drags herself behind the others. Her feet getting heavy and her brain hurting from all the screams and lights. A piercing pain ripped through her body. A scream ripped through the bright night sky while her hands clutched her abdomen. Getting stained with wet, red liquid. Her eyes were blown wide, looking forward to Gally who stood paralyzed a few feet in front of her, sprinting back to catch her before she hit the ground.

They took cover behind a car, (Y/N) shooting behind herself to get rid of a wicked guard that had been following them for quite a while. The others took off before the guard got hit by one of the bullets, leaving (Y/N) to fend for herself. The man falls shortly after. His eyes became lifeless while blood is trickling out of his wound.

They lay together on the ground, people moving around them but unseeing. His lips were moving, but she couldn`t make out his words. Her eyes slipped shut when she felt Gally encircle his arms around her.

The ocean was crashing. Whispering tails of heartbreak and love. Birds chirping above it, to add details. It smelled salty and clear like freedom and peace.

But her eyelids were heavy, refusing to open, while her body dragged her back down to darkness. It was war, fighting. A battle she couldn't lose.

She slipped in and out of dreamless sleep. Accompanying her until she felt ready to see the new world. The world they had created.

Slowly her eyes opened, registering the grey ceiling above her, it looked trist and old.

Wind swept through the open door, flying over her face, gently tickling her awake. Forcing her to move her head and acknowledge the blue paradise outside of her shed.

"Hey." A voice rasped beside her. Her eyes blinked blearily to focus on the man who had stayed at her side.

"Hey." Her voice was croaky and broken but it reached its destination. A tired smile played around his lips, while he took her hands.

"I missed you." Gally gave her a glass of water that was already prepared at her bedside table.

She nodded in gratefulness and tried sitting up, but a jolt went through her body, making her wince in pain. Hands automatically reached to her stomach.

"You got shot at the last city." He gently helped her to get her upper body straight. Positioning it gently on the pillows. Before bringing the glass towards her lips.

"Rob did everything she could. She saved you." His eyes were downcast. Avoiding her eyes.

"It's not your fault."

"But it is."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I…I should have taken care of you. Looked out better."

"Gally, there is nothing you anyone could have done." (Y/N)'s eyes were truthful. Her face gentle with no regret etched onto it.

They sat in silence. Thinking about all the smoke and gunshots filling the air a few days ago, while the waves gently tried to wash away their sorrows.

"We're safe now. The boat got ready today. We will go to the safe haven this evening." Gally spoke up. His voice was a hopeful whisper. He that if he spoke of it their luck would run out and they couldn't reach paradise again.

A peaceful expression reached (Y/N)'s face. She let her eyelids fall shut again. A sigh that was trapped inside of her for years finally found the light of day.

"I will bring you to paradise. I promise." Gally cupped her face, breathing a kiss onto her forehead.

"You have said that before, you know? When we were children." (Y/N)'s expression never changed. Unconcerned about the secret she had just revealed.

"When we were Children?"

"Mhh, I already met you at the wicked camp." Her eyes opened abruptly, facing him again. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier." She studied his expression but his face remained stoic not showing what he felt.

"I don't remember."

"That's okay. It was a long time ago." Her body relaxed at that.

"Is that why you trusted me when we picked you up at the ruins?" She nodded. Their memories fluttered through her brain chasing each other and creating their relationship.

"I fell in love with you again."

"I fell in love with you too."

Her eyes closed. Smiling warmly. Her mind felt at ease. The pain in her abdomen not hurting as badly as it did moments ago. Warmth spread through her body and she thought if dying felt like this she would enjoy it. Because it smelled like freedom and peace and love.

But she would open her eyes again, a few hours later on a boat in the middle of the ocean and they would already see their paradise.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part IV — (Azriel x Reader)

Hey! Here’s Part IIII to this! Thank you for being lovely about it. 💕

Warnings: None for this part!

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Your fingers danced across the piano keys with a mind entirely of their own.

Sheet music sat before you, but you didn’t need to glance at it. This was pure muscle memory. Your favourite piece, memorised note by note. Playing it always felt like breathing for the first time. 

Arrival of the Bluebird, it was called. You couldn’t help smiling as you played. 

The notes climbed and fell in their flawless way, always like the calming ebb and flow of a tide. You soaked it in, your eyes closed, your skin prickling at the music caressing you—

A soft rustle sounded behind you. A rude awakening.

Two thoughts struck you at that moment.

The first — that you’d never played for anyone but yourself. To have a spectator felt like parading naked through the village.

And the second — that said spectator was, bizarrely, of the same ilk that you had been raised to detest.

A shadow moved in your periphery, and your fingers fell still, the music coming to an abrupt stop.

The creature — Azriel — loomed at your side, his gaze intent on where your hands had sat.

“Beautiful.” He murmured softly. “You play so flawlessly.”

It seemed so, so strange, so wrong, to sit and chat casually with a creature of such bloodshed. Like the tune had washed over you and made you truly aware of the situation. Of the action you’d taken.

You’d let him into your home.

You’d helped him when he’d been more or less incapacitated. When you probably had the advantage to strike and make a killing blow. To rid the world of one of its demons. 

And now you were playing music for him. Had he…had he enchanted you, somehow? Some faerie magic, perhaps, that put you at such ease? That made you forget who you were alone in a building with?

Your body was taut as a bowstring as you slowly swivelled on the stool to face him. And his beauty struck you speechless again.

He offered you a smile. One that was small and reserved, and yet held such devastating charm. You quickly forced your eyes away.

“Who taught you to play?” He asked softly.

Your hands twisted around each other as you answered, “I taught myself.”

“Entirely by yourself?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Some people can’t reach such skill even with honed, esteemed pianists to master them. It must be in your blood.”

You’d always thought so. The piano had been here your entire life — your fingers had inched towards it for as long as you could remember.

“I’m told my mother used to play.” You said. That sore spot in your heart stung at the mere mention of the parent you’d never known. “The piano used to be out in the bar area. My father told me that she used to play every night, and people would flock to the inn just to listen.”

There was a heavy, unmissable pause. You were sure you noticed Azriel’s shoulders stiffening out of the corner of your eye.

“Used to?” He asked quietly. “Is she…is she no longer alive?���

You turned your gaze on him, sure it appeared as blazing as you felt. “I never knew her. She was murdered. By your kind.”

“By my kind?”

“By a group of High Fae.”

Another pause. Azriel’s head dipped a fraction, his eyes lowering to the ground. 

“That’s awful.” His voice was soft. Unbearably gentle. “I’m truly sorry that you suffered such a loss. However…I’m not High Fae.”

The declaration was enough for you to narrow your gaze on him. He certainly looked High Fae; you were sure there wasn’t a human in the world who carried such flawless beauty, nor the preternatural stillness that only a honed, immortal being could master. 

Azriel smiled wryly, like he knew you were searching for some physical evidence of what he’d said. He turned his head to the side, his fingers moving up to brush the shell of his ear.

A very rounded ear. No pointed tip. 

“I hail from a warrior-race of the fae called Illyrians.” He explained. “We’re fae, but…certainly not High Fae.”

You stared at him. 

At those rounded ears. The scarred fingers. 

As if not being High Fae somehow erased all that had been done.

It didn’t.  

You shrugged rather brusquely. “Makes no difference to me. Aren’t all fae the same, with a history steeped in violence? I hate violence.”

“…Blood has been spilled on both sides of the Wall—”

“I hate it.” You cut him off. “Too many people resort to violence needlessly. I see it every single night working in this place. And for fragile humans like ourselves, all it can take is one strike to finish a person off. I wish people — human and Fae — thought more before deciding violence as their route. Perhaps if they did, I wouldn’t have grown up without a mother.”

It was the most you’d said to Azriel in one breath. And you waited for his defensiveness, for him to tell you your thoughts were somehow wrong.

But he simply stared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. And his response wasn’t what you anticipated.

“You’re not wrong.” His voice was like wrapping yourself in silk. “I’m sorry you’ve seen such violence. I’m glad you have music to escape to, at least.” 

You stared back at him, your thoughts emptying for a moment. You willed yourself not to be intimidated by the beauty; by the deadliness of it. He could probably snuff out your life without anyone hearing so much as a squeak from you—

“Are you going to kill me now?” You blurted, rather pathetically.

Azriel’s steeled face twitched just slightly; the only reaction to your question.

It surprised you as he retreated a step. Put more distance between you. 

“Why are you so convinced that I want to kill you?” He asked quietly.

“Am I supposed to believe it a coincidence that a Fae male begins appearing in these parts at the same time that the girls in this village are being murdered?”

His brow furrowed. “Girls are being murdered?”

“Yes. The Village Guards have found them brutally slain, and then you appear. If I’m to be next, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t leave me to be found by my father in that condition.”

“I haven’t killed anyone in this village, and I’m not going to kill you.”

His words should have reassured you. But you honed in on the sentence. Saw it for what it was.

He hadn’t killed anyone in this village.

But he’d killed elsewhere. 

Bile rose up in your throat as you stared at him. And as he studied your fearful expression, he sighed. Looked away.

“What I told you was true. I was passing by, and I heard your music, and I wanted to hear more. But I don’t wish to frighten you.” He retreated another step. “Perhaps I should go—”

He was cut off by a thump so abrupt, it had you jumping out of your skin. Azriel quickly looked up.

Another thump, followed by a third.

“It’s the door.” You quickly stood, brushing yourself down. “I should answer.”

He pressed himself against the wall as you brushed past him, hurrying through to unlock the front door. You pulled it open a fraction, narrowing your eyes at the darkened figure on your doorstep.

Kiall. He looked…wired. Stimulated. But he didn’t stink of booze, for once.

“I’m sorry about the music.” You said before he could speak. “I didn’t realise how late it had got—”

“I’m not here about your little piano.” The older, scruffy male looked around feverishly. “I shot one down. A Fae. That fucking winged bastard from the alley. Got him right through those wings. He was flying above the village and I got him.”

You swallowed. Pulled the door a little closer to you. If Kiall — or anyone — knew that you had a Fae in your home, you’d be done for. Probably killed right alongside him. 

Unless, of course, you gave him up. Disabled him somehow and turned him over to the Village Guards. Perhaps those ash arrows, still lying in the puddle of his blood, could still be of some use—

“Where is the Fae now?” You blurted, blocking Kiall’s minuscule glimpse into your home. “Have the Guards dealt with him?”

“No.” Kiall sneered. “He got away someplace. Probably bleeding out somewhere nearby. I wanted to know if you’d seen or heard anything.”

This was your chance.

Kiall could help you.

Azriel had regained most of his strength, but he’d been caught unaware once already. Surely the two of you could deal with him. 

And then you’d never have to worry about him hanging around here again. Watching you. Watching and—

And listening to your music.

If he was to be believed…that was all he’d lingered for.

You didn’t really know why you did it. It probably made you an utter fool. But you swallowed and schooled your expression, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t see or hear anything.” You lied. “Like I said — I was playing music.”

Kiall studied you for a moment. And you wondered if, perhaps, the untruth lay blatantly on your face, in your eyes. The Bluebird Inn — your family business and home — was the hub of this little community. Everybody knew you. Everybody knew that you were the daughter of the Fae-hating innkeeper, and the woman who had been murdered by their kind. That you were raised to hate them just as fiercely.

To have one right here, in these very walls…to have helped him, and to now protect him…

You had utterly, utterly lost your mind. But you let none of that show.

“If I see or hear anything suspicious, I’ll report it right away.” You said.

Kiall eyeballed you again. “You do that, Y/N.”

“I will. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Be sure to lock your doors. Don’t want to end up like those other village girls.”

A shiver ran down your back. But you nodded. “I will.” You repeated. “Thank you.”

Kiall had always been a strange person. His reputation for being a drunk was known from one end of the village to the other. But being the one who served him most of those drinks, you saw something more. An ever-present, crazed look in his eye, like he was always on alert, always ready — and happy — to attack. Many of the brawls in the tavern had been started by him over nothing.

That crazed look stayed trained on you, now, as he slowly backed away from your front door. And when a good distance was between you, you pushed it firmly shut. Locked and deadbolted it. Released a long, deep breath.

You slumped against the door, blinking forward.

You’d lied. You’d actually lied. All those years of your father telling you what to do if you came face-to-face with a Fae, and what had you done? Played him music.

And then protected him from the wrath of other villagers.

Maybe you were the crazed one. Maybe—

Soft footsteps thudded against the floor. You looked up as Azriel slowly approached, keeping a great distance away. He studied you unsurely; you had no doubt that he’d heard every word. That he knew what you’d done.

“Are you alright?” His voice was so gentle, so quiet; something you knew no human voice could ever master. 

Are you alright? When was the last time anyone had asked you that?—

You knew precisely when. When Azriel had stepped in and protected you from Kiall’s drunken ranting in the alley.

You stared up at him — those hazel eyes — and wondered why. Why he seemed to care. 

And why it made you feel good.

“I’m alright.” You eventually answered, pushing to your feet. “You should…probably go, though.”

He dipped his chin. “Thank you — for what you did just then. And for pulling those arrows out. And for sharing your beautiful music.”

Your beautiful music. The words almost knocked you breathless.

To hear someone appreciate it so freely—

That, you told yourself, was why you asked, “Will you come back and listen again?”

You could have sworn Azriel’s lips twitched. “I’d certainly like to.”

Insane. This entire thing was insane. You with a Fae in your house, engaging in pleasant conversation. You more or less inviting him back.

But you couldn’t stop yourself. 

You dipped your head, staring at the floor. “Will it be safe? Flying, I mean — with the injuries. And with Kiall still snooping around.”

“I have enough strength to get home without flying, now.” Azriel nodded. “I’ll be alright. And what of you?”

“What of me?”

“Will you be alright?”

Yes? No? You weren’t sure. Possibly not. You weren’t entirely convinced that you wouldn’t collapse under the entire, bizarre weight of the night’s events. You were in need of a stiff drink yourself.

But you nodded, all the same. “I’ll be alright.”

A moment passed of nothing. No sound, no movement. Neither of you took a step forward or back. 

But then Azriel inclined his head. “Goodnight, then. Sleep well.” 

“You—”

Before your very eyes — before you could complete your sentence — he disappeared into thin air. You blinked at the space that he’d vacated. And at the words you knew you were about to speak.

You sleep well, too.

Well-wishes to a Fae. You almost laughed at yourself. 

But as you stepped past the spot in which Azriel had stood, you paused at the scent that lingered. And inhaled.

A scent like…like fresh, undisturbed snow. Frosty nights and cedarwood. 

It was calming. Soothing. You felt it wash over you, like a blanket of security. 

You stood there for a moment longer, and then made your way into the bar area to clean up. And fix yourself that drink.

And you found yourself continuously glancing out of the window. Wondering if Azriel truly would come back.

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Azriel didn’t consider the fact that he looked a little worse for wear.

That blood still stained his wings, his clothes, his skin.

That his hair made him appear like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. That he looked as though he could use at least three weeks’ worth of sleep.

Honed spymaster, indeed.

He traipsed into Rhysand’s office. The High Lord immediately sat up in his chair, relief filling his eyes.

“Don’t go quiet on me like that, asshole.” He admonished. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“Sorry.” Az winced slightly as he lowered himself into his chair; the wings were still a little sore. “Took a couple of ash arrows to the wings.”

Rhys stared back at him. “So it’s true, then. The humans are trying to rise up against us.”

“A whole group of them are travelling from village to village, spreading the word of their cause and trying to rally forces. They’re serious about this.”

Rhys slumped back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why now, though?”

Slowly, Azriel shook his head. “I think they’re using a whole number of reasons to justify it to themselves. They’re incensed about the land we have, the lives we live…a bunch of things. But…there have been attacks in one village. A few women have been slain. I think the Village Guards are spreading the word that they’re Fae attacks.”

“And do you believe them to be?”

“Not sure. I’d have to investigate it further.”

Rhys firmly shook his head. “I don’t want you going near those villages again for the time being. Not if they’ve got ash arrows in their arsenal.”

Azriel sat up. Tried not to wince. “The bastard had no more than two—”

“I’m not risking anything until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We wait to see what move they make next; it could all just be talk, and I’m not risking you for some human gossip. I want you here, alerting the other courts that we may have an issue on our hands. Understood?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. Yes, he understood. He understood his High Lord’s order perfectly well, but he didn’t have to like it. He wanted to go back to the village, ash arrows or no ash arrows. He wanted to hear the music again, to talk to Y/N again—

“Understood, Azriel?” Rhysand repeated.

“Yes.” The shadowsinger gritted out. “Understood.” 

“Good.” Just like that, Rhys was shucking off his title; sitting back and becoming a brother again. His face softened. “Go get some rest. You need it.”

Azriel stood without a word, dragging his feet from the room. 

He wouldn’t disobey Rhys’s orders.

But Cauldron fucking boil him, something nagged at him to do exactly that.

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Weeks passed. And there was no dark, passing figure in the skies. No booming clap of wings.

And your disappointment at Azriel’s absence frightened you far more than his presence ever had.

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[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey!!!:) I can’t really remember if I've requested this before, but just in case, I’m sending it again. 😭

could I ask for a story where reader and Donna are struggling to have a baby? They’ve been trying for some time, but nothing seems to be happening, and they’re feeling really desperate to make it work.

Maybe reader starts to feel a bit insecure and scared, worried that Donna might lose patience and idk throw her out if she doesn’t get pregnant. She thinks that Donna is disappointed in her and blames the situation on her.

But at the end, it finally works out, and they’re overwhelmingly happy!

Thank you, and I wish you well, as always! ;)

Yesss!!!! I don't remember a similar request, but thank you for it!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Patience

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst (G!P Donna slightly implied)

Word count: 6,827

Summary: You wanted to give her a baby, to start a family, but you didn't know if you could...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

You paced back and forth, nervous, thinking about what the best words would be to confront the problem, wondering if those words really existed in your entire vocabulary. You were nervous, alone in that big house, with your mind too busy to be aware of the passage of time.

You were already accustomed to the darkness of a place that once seemed sinister to you, a dark, isolated and almost forbidden house.

A couple of years ago you decided to face your own fears, to enter the forest which gave you nightmares, that forest no one entered, and from which no one ever returned.

It could be that you were born in that place, in that village isolated from the world, under the protection and mercy of the Black Gods. Neither they, nor Mother Miranda, nor the Lords were reasons for you to think your life was safe, for you to believe you were nothing but a simple human being in a strange place.

You were not the most devout villager, nor the most helpful, nor the most sociable. You were simply you. A girl lost in a dark world, surrounded by legends, by fears that your family instilled in you over time.

Perhaps you could have lived differently if your parents had not been the cause of your fears. They, faithful devotees of the Cult, took care to warn you of all the dangers that the masses said didn’t exist, of that shadow that always hovered over you, over the creatures protected by those absurd Gods.

That extreme fear, that trembling in your legs every time the Lords were near, caused one of your most characteristic traits to be cowardice, cowardice that, when you turned 19, you decided to forget.

What was the best way to do it? Facing your fears.

The forest seemed the ideal place for it. There were no lycans. There was no constant danger as could be in the castle. That place was always uninhabited. It could even seem that there was no danger behind that wooden bridge.

You were wrong. You knew who lived there. You knew what could happen if she caught you. Donna Beneviento was the youngest, the most mysterious of the Lords and the owner of that forest, of those ramshackle cabins.

A dark woman, with a dark past, with serious problems in her mind, with the ability to make anyone who disturbed her suffer and wipe them off the map while screaming in terror. You knew it and for some reason, you assumed that it wouldn’t happen to you. But, again, you were completely wrong.

After walking around that place, telling yourself that everything was okay, that you hadn't done anything wrong, you tripped and fell into a small ditch, hurting your foot.

Asking for help was absurd, and moving, too.

When that black shadow, when that woman in black appeared before your eyes with a stoic pose, covered by the black veil, watching you, you could only close your eyes.

Nothing happened to you. Lady Beneviento was nothing like anything you had heard. Yes, she was a quiet woman, uncommunicative, but... Well, she helped you without reason. She healed your wounds under an almost sepulchral silence. Something unexpected, but that would lead to many more encounters, to questions with a hoarse, whispering voice.

It wasn't long before the fear disappeared and you began to feel other things towards that woman. A mutual feeling that settled in your heart after seeing her true face for yourself, the thing she was ashamed of. Beauty was something subjective but… In that case, you didn't think it was like that at all.

Then the kisses came, the hugs, the pleas for you to stay a little longer, just a little longer. You didn't care about anything, not the deformity of her face, not her body, altered by the the Gods’ whim … Nothing, nothing prevented you from falling madly in love with her.

And so two years passed, the two best years of your life.

But, like everything, nothing could be perfect, not that day, the day in which you had to expose to the brunette the worries you had for several days.

In your mind you rehearsed the conversation over and over again, the way to tell her what was happening to you, what that could mean. You could have tried to keep hiding it from her, but it was pointless.

Donna wasn't a bad person. She was kind, caring and understanding. Her problems didn't mix with yours and besides, you had learned to deal with those crises. You shouldn't be afraid, right?

After a while, the door of the mansion opened, letting in the woman of your life, covered in that horrible black veil, holding the fun and irreverent Angie in her arms.

“Oh, Donna, you're early,” you said nervously, walking towards her while she got rid of the cloth that covered her beauty. Her serious face sketched a smile as she saw how you approached, how you kissed her quickly.

“It was just a meeting like any other,” she explained, gently grabbing your waist, returning more quick kisses, unfortunately for the doll, who let out a furious growl.

“I'm glad to hear it,” you sighed, letting your head rest on her shoulder.

Any moment was good to express the love you felt for her, to melt with her hugs, but that day was different, that day her arms were not romantic, they were more like a refuge.

“Were you bored?” Donna asked, kissing your head and finally pulling away, putting her veil in a drawer. You sighed, shaking your head.

“No, I’ve been sorting out the books in the living room,” you explained, walking next to her, who listened intently to your words, nodding slowly.

“It was not necessary,” she whispered in a tender voice, taking your hand, noticing it was shaking. “(Y/N), tesoro… You’re shaking.”

“Oh, well,” you said, pulling your hand away quickly, too quickly, affirming your concerns. “It’s nothing.”

Donna looked at you with a frown. You weren’t the best of liars, and she wasn’t stupid. You couldn’t fool her or lie to her, she would always know.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, facing you and placing a lock of hair behind your ear. “Something’s worrying you…”

“Th, the truth is… Yes,” you sighed, finally confessing, continuing your mental search for the right words, one that was fruitless. “Come, I have, I have to tell you something,” you said, taking her hand and leading her to your favorite reading corner, indicating that she should sit down.

“Okay… Dimmi, (Y/N),” she whispered with a low voice, broken by the nerves she fought against every time you had something to tell her.

You could say that Donna, in her own way, was also quite a coward, although her only fear was always the same, losing you.

“Um, I… I don't really know how to tell you,” you stammered, scratching the back of your neck but not separating your hand from hers. “I'm, I'm a bit… scared.”

“Scared,” Donna repeated, with a marked accent that betrayed her own concern. “What are you scared of, tesoro?”

“Scared is perhaps not the right word…” you murmured, looking at the ceiling, anywhere except at her bright eye. “Let's say… Worried?”

“Well, in that case, tell me what's worrying you,” the lady in black said, nodding understandingly.

You took a breath, unable to find those magic words, ones that weren't dangerous, that wouldn't make the lady nervous.

“I'm late,” you finally said, closing your eyes and opening them slowly, cowardly checking her reaction. She seemed calm, her face didn't change.

“You're late…” she repeated cautiously, blinking erratically.

“Yes, I… I should have gotten my period last week and… Well, I’m a week late,”you said in a whisper that was becoming increasingly inaudible.

“Um…” Donna murmured, smiling nervously. “What do you mean, (Y/N)?”

“Well, I mean, I mean…” you stammered, your body shaking from that fear, that thing you didn't want to think was possible, even though deep down, you knew that it was, of course it was possible.

“Amore mio,” Donna said, with a surprised but radiant face, taking your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “Sei incinta?”

“What?” you asked confused, trying to figure out what she had asked. After all that time with her, you didn't have to think about it too much anymore. “Oh, I… I don't know.”

“Tesoro…” Donna sighed, cupping your face in her hands, with a radiant smile, of sincere happiness, something that relaxed you a bit. “Are we going to have a baby?”

“I don't know, Donna, I… I've always, always been regular like a clockwork and… Well, I don't really know but… Yes, it's quite likely,” you murmured, pleasantly surprised by her reaction, which was, of course, what you feared the most.

“That's wonderful news, (Y/N), a baby…” she said, radiating happiness, kissing you quickly, excited.

“Is it?” you asked confused, laughing at her quick kisses, at that tender nervousness of the brunette.

“Of course, tesoro,” she said, nodding, settling down next to you on the couch

“Wow, you've taken it well,” you sighed in relief, dodging the hundreds of kisses that attacked you mercilessly. “I didn’t know you were so excited about it.”

“Honestly, I didn’t either,” the lady said, shaking her head, still caressing you. “But thinking about it makes me... It makes me happy.”

“Does it? Well, that's a relief,” you joked, thinking about how stupid you were to think that somehow it would be bad news. “Anyway, it's just a delay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit.”

“You said you were regular like a clockwork,” she said, visibly nervous. “It's incredible... A baby...”

“I don't know if I'm ready for it,” you said somewhat fearfully, with a lot of new worries assaulting your mind, a lot of things that were going to happen and that you didn't know how to handle.

“Certo, I guess no one is ready enough but... Don't worry, I'll help you with everything you need,” she sighed, with her hand on your cheek, with her eye shining with emotion. “And, and we will be... A family, a real one.”

“Family? It sounds great,” you said amused as Donna bit her lower lip, unable to hold back a tear of emotion.

“You make me so happy…” she sighed in a sweeter voice, kissing you again, this time more slowly, enjoying the contact. “Oh, oh, there are so many things to think about…”

“Yes,” you laughed amused, wiping away a tear that was running down your cheek. “So many things…”

“Yes, I… I'll have to make some clothes for it and, well, we should think about where it’s going to sleep and… Is it a boy or a girl?”

“How would I know?” you asked, shaking your head and arching your eyebrows. “Donna, relax, it's too early for that.”

“No, no, no, you're the one who has to relax and rest. A, from now on I'll take care of you as if you were a princess… My princess…” the lady sighed, brushing her nose against yours. “Amore mio, ti amo così tanto…”

“Me too, Donna, me too…”

At least it was good news for her. You couldn't hide that incipient fear of being a mother, that strange nervousness. A baby wasn't exactly something you had in mind. It was something improvised, a surprise.

Donna, for her part, was elated, excited, smiling; eager to meet that life she created inside of you. Everything had to be perfect for baby Beneviento and, from what you had seen, it was going to be.

Her fears, problems or worries didn't seem to overshadow that emotion, the joy of having a family, of starting one with you.

In your mind you thought about the consequences, the reality of your situation, how it would change your life. After thinking about it, you came to the same conclusion as the lady in black, it was wonderful news.

But, as if it had been nothing but a joke of fate, everything went wrong one morning. Just when you could already feel that same emotion as your girlfriend, the harsh reality hit your feelings; it had been a false alarm.

Your period came back to mock you, to mercilessly crush that happiness you were no longer able to stop feeling. It was a disappointment, a terrible disappointment that you had to tell her. Again, you didn't know how.

“Donna...” you murmured, slowly opening the doors of the workshop where she worked on her dolls. She turned around with a smile, indicating you to come closer.

“Ciao, tesoro, come, look at this,” she said, with that same smile, showing you what looked like a small, very small garment. “Do you like it?”

You took in your hands what looked like a small pajama, decorated with animals, hand-embroidered in an extraordinary way, although it shouldn't surprise you.

“It's nice,” you whispered, suppressing a sob.

No, you just didn't see yourself capable of giving her the bad news. You had never seen her so happy, not even the day you told her you loved her for the first time.

“I made it with grey fabric, and before you tell me, no, it's not a sinister vice on dark tones,” Donna joked, picking up the pajamas again and running her hands over the embroidery. “I chose grey because I don't know if it's going to be a boy or a girl, and besides, that pink and blue nonsense is a bit old-fashioned, isn't it?”

“Old-fashioned? But Donna…” you said amused, with a sad smile. “Aren't you over 50?”

The lady in black, as clueless with jokes as ever, looked up, as if she was seriously considering her answer.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she said seriously, focused again.

You rolled your eyes, bending down to give her a soft kiss on the cheek, one that made her smile back, you didn’t know for how long.

“Donna, I…” you began, sighing.

“I thought that the baby would sleep with us until it was old enough,” the doll maker interrupted, leaving you a second away from telling the truth. “Yes, yes, I know that the guest room is far from the basement but don’t worry, Angie will take care of it.”

“Hey!” the doll protested, with a high-pitched squeak. “If I’m going to babysit a crying child, I demand compensation.”

“Compensation? I gave you the gift of life,” Donna said amused, looking at you in a complicit manner.

The doll growled as she walked towards you comically.

“You're going to take it away from me by making me endure your child: Mom! Where's Mom? I'm afraid of the dark! Angie, come to the bathroom with me, that lady in the painting scares me! That's not free, silly Donna,” the puppet mocked.

Donna laughed tenderly, shaking her head. You took a breath, closing your eyes.

“Donna,” you said in a more serious tone.

“Don't pay attention to her, she's looking forward to having someone to play with,” the lady said, carefully folding the pajamas.

“Your life will be like hell!” Angie shrieked again, apparently furious. “We'll be your worst nightmare, you tireless copulators!”

The lady in black sighed with the same tenderness in her smile.

“Honey, listen to me for a moment,” you said, slowly losing your patience. It was as if deep down, Donna was ignoring you on purpose, as if she didn't want to know what you had to say to her.

“Mm?” she murmured, leafing through a book on sewing patterns, a book about baby clothes. “Oh, look at that crib... We'll have to ask the carpenter to make us one and...”

“Donna, listen to me,” you said abruptly, holding her shoulders, forcing her to look at you. Her eye widened with a confused look and she nodded. “I'm not pregnant.”

“Cosa?” she asked in a small voice, frowning, beginning to tremble.

“Non, sono, incinta,” you repeated, dragging out your words, demonstrating everything you had learned in those two years.

You wanted to be no doubt, to be clear. You may have been a bit abrupt, but it was necessary. When Donna got something in her head, it was very difficult to her to get it out.

“No?” she sighed, looking down, her smile slowly disappearing. “But, but… What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing happened,” you said in a somber voice, hurt by that reaction, by seeing the sadness in her eye again. “It was a false alarm, that's all.”

“Oh, um… Okay, I…” Donna stammered looking away, breathing nervously, disappointed. “I, I need a moment.”

“Donna, honey,” you said affectionately, running a hand over her cheek, which she gently pushed away.

“Please, go away,” she whispered, in a voice that warned of an imminent crisis. “Leave me alone.”

“My love…” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Get out!” she shouted nervously, forcing you to obey her, sobbing. You didn't want to argue, that was the last thing you needed at that moment.

It was a horrible day, and, after it, time didn't change that bitterness.

Donna didn't seem the same. She had gone back in time. She had become surly again, always with that sad look, with that darkness on her face. For you it had been a bad experience but for her, for her it was much worse.

You really didn't think she would accept it that much, you didn't even know that she was that excited about having a child with you. In your thoughts there was only one question, one that you asked yourself every night, one for which you still had no answer: What if we have a child?

After thinking about it thoroughly, having that kind of respite thanks to that scare, you were able to think things through better, think pros and cons before making a decision. It didn't take long for you to know what you wanted to do, what you could do.

Starting a family wasn't in your short-term plans, but little by little, you began to want it, to look to the future with a smile. Yes, of course you did, you wanted a child, a child with her. You wanted that happy family you began to dream of.

“Honey?” you asked one morning, peeking into the kitchen.

Donna was there, preparing food with that same sad expression, one she'd had for weeks and that you couldn't erase. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye, with a fake smile, gesturing for you to come closer.

“Mm, it smells so good,” you said sighing, grabbing her waist from behind. She laughed shyly, offering you a sample of that delicious sauce.

“Do you think it needs some more salt?” she asked concentrated while you tasted it, shaking your head.

“No, it's perfect, darling,” you said, nodding with a genuine smile.

Donna imitated your gesture, moving so you would let her go.

“Am I disturbing you?” you asked a bit nervously, again, not knowing what words to use to express your decision. She looked at you briefly, shaking her head.

“No, you’re not,” she said with a cold voice, but trying not to lose her tenderness.

“Good, because… Because, I have to talk to you,” you said, tilting your head so she would look at you, something she did briefly, returning to the food right after. “Seriously.”

“Talk, tesoro,” she whispered, stirring that delicious sauce.

You rolled your eyes, taking her hand away from the wooden spoon and leaving it on the counter, turning her body.

“(Y/N), I'm, I'm cooking,” Donna protested, still holding your hand but with an annoyed expression. “Can't we talk another time?”

“No, hey, listen, I've been thinking…” you said, gesturing with your other hand.

“I can listen to you while I cook,” she murmured, letting your hand go and picking up the spoon again.

You groaned, snatching it back from her. A bad idea, since Donna was more irritable than usual. Poor thing, she probably had no idea. You were going to cheer her soul up again.

“No, I really want you to listen to me,” you insisted, now taking both of her hands, holding her in front of you.

The lady sighed and nodded in defeat.

“I thought that… Well, maybe, maybe it's not such a bad idea to have a baby,” you said, letting your nerves speak for you. She stared at you, frowning.

“What do you mean?” she asked confused, studying your gestures.

“I mean that, well… I saw you so excited that time that… Yes, Donna, I want, I want to have a baby with you, one, one that we want, you know…” you said with a mischievous look, playing with her hands. “If it's okay with you, of course.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, with that bright smile briefly returning to her face. “Do you want… Do you want to have a baby with me?”

“Yes, Donna, of course I want,” you nodded smiling, relaxed by seeing the happiness on her face again, by seeing the illusion that disappeared so abruptly.

“You make me so happy…” the lady sighed, resting her forehead against yours, kissing you slowly. “So, so happy…”

You laughed amused, hanging on her neck, biting your lip.

“How about you turn off the gas, stop preparing that delicious meal for a moment and get to it?” you asked, whispering in her ear. She looked at you, breathing nervously, turning the kitchen faucet.

“With pleasure,” she whispered back, taking you in her arms by surprise, walking out of the old kitchen among timid laughs.

At least that illusion, that desire to fight, to love, to live, returned to Lady Beneviento. You were also excited, waiting for events to develop on their own.

You always considered yourself a lucky girl. In your 21 years you had been very lucky with your decisions, very lucky to meet Donna, to win her love… You thought that chance was in your favor, ready to compensate you for so many years of darkness, for that fearful and lonely childhood.

You didn't know why when you were happiest, luck seemed to abandon you.

“Well?” the lady in black asked, nervously playing with her hands, waiting for the result, like every month.

“Boy or girl, silly?” Angie asked too, while you approached slowly, with a sad look.

“Nothing,” you murmured, showing the horrible result of that test. “Negative.”

“What? L-Let me see,” the lady said, frowning and snatching the test from your hands, confirming your failure.

“What do you have to do with it? It's a damn line, Donna,” you said frustrated, letting yourself fall on the couch.

Of course, you weren't lucky anymore.

Yes, well, it would have been too much of a coincidence if it had worked on the first try. On the first, maybe the second, but not on the fourth.

Nerves, anxiety began to take their toll on your body. You weren't getting pregnant, no matter how many times you tried. Fate was no longer on your side.

You tried everything, reading books, taking your temperature... None of those methods seemed useful to you. You knew that giving up was cowardly, but, little by little, you began to lose hope.

Donna seemed calm, understanding, but deep down, you knew that she wasn't, causing you to be in a constant nervous state, an irritability more typical of the lady in black than of yourself.

It wasn't anger at Donna. She was doing everything she could. That anger, that frustration was only directed at one person, you.

“Shit...” you hissed, crossing your arms, shaking your head.

“She said shit,” Angie sang, pointing at you mockingly.

“Hey, leave me alone, will you? Get lost,” you said sharply to the doll, who stopped laughing immediately, surely due to the coldness of your gaze, an unusual one.

“Don't take it out on Angie, tesoro,” Donna said, sitting next to you and leaving that failed test on the table. “It's okay, we'll try again.”

“Surely everything would be easier if that piece of wood and porcelain stopped being unnaturally alive!” you shrieked furiously, causing the doll to flee in terror.

“(Y/N)…” the lady sighed, controlling the trembling of your hands. “Come on, amore mio, relax.”

“I'm relaxed, can't you see it?” you growled, pulling your hands away from hers, frustrated, terribly frustrated. She tilted her head with a sad look.

“Nobody said it was easy… We must, we must be patient,” Donna told you, with a soft and tender voice, enduring your brusqueness, your bad mood.

Meanwhile your head was thinking about what the reason for your failure could be; why life didn't seem to want to make its way into your body. You didn't want to think it was your fault, anything but that.

On other occasions you would have swallowed your accusations, but the pressure was already too strong.

“What if it's your fault?” you murmured with a frown, moving away from the woman in black, who pointed at herself, confused.

“Mine?” she asked, surprised by your accusation.

“Yes, yours, who tells you that you can have children?” you asked irrationally, taking it all out on poor Donna. She was very patient with you.

“Oh, well, I, I…” she stammered with a shy look, with an embarrassed smile.

“You, what?” you insisted, with a tone that was too arrogant.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's not possible... Nothing's wrong with me, everything's fine,” she said, making you frown distrustfully at seeing her nervousness.

“No? How can you be so sure?” you asked inquisitively, narrowing your eyes.

“Well, because... Oh, I forgot that I had to do something and...” Donna said, getting up nervously from the sofa. You no longer had any doubts.

“Hey, hey, hey! Come here, Beneviento,” you said furiously, grabbing the lady by her wrist, contemplating the lie hidden in her bright eye. “Spit it out, what are you hiding from me?”

“I, niente...” she stammered, giving herself away even more.

“Niente? So I guess I have to believe your word,” you hissed with a dangerous look, leaving the lady in black with no way out, who moved nervously. “Donna…”

“I had to do it, okay?” she finally said, walking further away from you.

“Do what?” you asked impatiently, stamping your foot on the floor, furious for no reason, angry at Donna, at your own failure.

“I had to know if… If I won't be able to get you pregnant because… Because of me,” she whispered, avoiding your gaze.

“What have you done?” you asked again, through clenched teeth, making your lover more and more nervous.

“I, I told Mother Miranda to… Well, to… do some tests to me,” Donna confessed, lowering her gaze. You were left breathless, your heart struggling to calm down.

“What? Her? What tests?” you insisted nervously.

Donna shrugged, blush visible on her cheeks.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, just some analysis,” she explained with a shaky voice, with a marked accent, trying to get away from you again.

You made a face of disgust, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Analysis? Oh, no, I don't think you let that witch manipulate your…” you hissed, upset.

“What did you want me to do?” she protested, more sure of herself, clenching her fists on both sides of her hips. “I should wait again and again just to see us fail?”

“You're the one who says that we have to be patient,” you reproached, annoyed by her words.

“Yes, but, but… I wanted, I wanted to make sure, (Y/N), and you know what? I'm perfectly fine, I'm fertile,” Donna said, with a cockier tone, nervous, nervous just like you.

“Oh, I'm happy for you…” you mocked with an ironic tone. “Then it's my fault, right?”

“I didn't say that,” the ventriloquist hissed, with a cold look. “But if you agreed to let Mother Miranda to check you, maybe…”

“No! No way!” you shouted nervously, terrified by that possibility. “We've already talked about it, although I see what it was for… You've ignored it.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” Donna asked, with a calmer fury, with pain in her eye, not resentment. “I just want her to take a look at you.”

“Sure, sure…” you murmured, nodding ironically. “I thought I made it clear. I didn't want that kind of mutant crow to know we were going to have a baby.”

“Why not? She has a right to know,” the lady said, increasingly nervous.

“Shit, Donna, because I say it!” you shrieked, echoing off the old walls. “You told me that she wants to resurrect her daughter, how can you be so stupid?”

“Perché mi stai insultando?” she sobbed, with a tear sliding down her cheek. “(Y/N)…”

“Donna, wake up,” you said, without the slightest regret for her apparent crisis, selfishly ignoring her feelings. “Miranda wants a daughter, we want a baby. They are dangerously common interests, don't you understand?”

“She would never hurt our child,” the lady in black hissed, changing her sobs into furious gasps.

“No? Are you completely sure?” you asked mockingly, with your conscience screaming for you to listen to it.

“Although, even if she wanted to, I would never allow it,” Donna whispered, clenching her fists again. “You have to listen to me, (Y/N), let her examine you and…”

“I said no,” you said in a calmer voice, but confident in yourself. “We will keep trying, I have time.”

Your hatred towards Mother Miranda seemed to be the only reason for your refusal, but you knew it wasn't. You were scared and terrified. You couldn't know if you were to blame, if your body refused to take that step, if there was a biological or physical reason for so much failure. If so, what would Donna think? How would she react to the possibility that you couldn't have children?

Just thinking about it made your stomach clench. If you didn't know how excited she was, you wouldn't have given it any importance, but you knew that Donna wanted a baby, she wanted to start a family with you. If she couldn't do it, what made you think she would want to continue with you?

“Donna, wait,” you said in a whisper, when the lady in black turned around furiously, mad at you, with your terribly unfair attitude. “Wait, darling.”

She stopped, turning around again slowly, her breathing labored. You gestured for her to come closer and she reluctantly obeyed.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, hugging her tenderly. “I'm sorry, my love, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just… I'm nervous. I didn't think it would be that difficult.”

Donna sighed in your ear, hugging you back, holding you tightly against her body.

“I know, I'm nervous too,” she murmured, holding your face, brushing your hair away from your face, looking you straight in the eyes. “But don't worry. Everything will be fine, you'll see.”

“I don't want her to see me, or touch me, or... No, I don't want to...” you sobbed, burying your head in her dress, letting those tears of frustration soak the black fabric as she rocked you with a soothing whisper.

“It's okay, it's okay, tesoro, I'm not going to force you,” she said softly, comforting your crying, your helplessness, your frustrated desire to give her the family she deserved.

Everything seemed to calm down, but that little haven of peace didn't last long. You kept trying, you kept failing.

The most likely cause would be your body. You would be the one to blame. You couldn't find another possible reason, something to excuse yourself with. You tried everything, and you just kept failing.

The insecurity that was already beating strongly in your subconscious came to light. A horrible depression loomed over you, over you two. You only saw disappointment in your lover's eye, failure, your failure.

Her spirits were also dampened by all these fruitless attempts. Donna was sad, but you were terrified. Nightmares began to plague your sleepless nights, the most horrible images you could see appearing in your dreams, images of Donna with another woman, with a precious baby in her hands, with that she wanted so much and you couldn't give her.

The constant torture of your mind passed to your body. You didn't feel like eating, sleeping, living... Not even in the moments when you mixed your bodies you could stay focused. That act of love, of passion between two people was reduced to a simple routine, to a few programmed movements and endings.

Everything stopped making sense to you, everything became cloudy, disappeared.

You even pretended to fall asleep on the couch to avoid sharing a bed with Donna. You had no right to do so, you were a disappointment, a failure. Shadows began to hover over you, over your relationship, or at least, that was what you saw, what her gaze told you.

“No?” Angie asked, sitting next to your lying body on the couch, trying to cheer you up. It was something worthy of admiration, but you couldn't even appreciate it.

You shook your head, unfazed by that senseless joke.

“Okay... Oh, oh... How about this one? Let's see, (Y/N), can you tell me the difference between a toilet and a car?” the doll asked, with a voice worthy of the best comedian.

“I have no idea,” you sighed, shrinking more into yourself.

“Easy, in the car you sit to run, but in the toilet you run to sit…” Angie said, making the sound of a drum roll.

Well, at least she managed to get a smile out of you, even if it was a sad, lifeless one.

“You laughed, silly!” the puppet shrieked, amused.

“Thanks, Angie…” you murmured, rubbing your arms due to the cold you felt, the pain in your body from having slept there so many nights.

“Don’t thank me,” she mocked. “You have to get up from there, you're going to get moldy,” she said amused, pushing you with her ridiculous strength to get you to stand up, something she naturally failed to do.

“Leave me alone, will you? I've heard enough stupid jokes for today…” you murmured, turning around.

“Oh, Donna, Donna, the fool laughed!” the doll said suddenly, when the sound of heels interrupted that conversation.

“Did she?” a soft voice asked, the lady in black, who sat next to you, caressing your hair affectionately. “Amore mio… how are you?”

“I can tell you I'm not… Pregnant,” you sighed, suppressing a sob, not daring to look at the lady, shrinking even more.

“Have you taken the test?” Donna asked softly, ignoring your increasingly frequent ironies. “Have you had your period?”

“No, I haven't taken the test,” you whispered, shaking your head. “What for? I already know the result.”

“Have you bled?” she asked again.

You shook your head again.

“No, but that doesn't mean anything, it's just that I'm eating wrong,” you explained, shivering with a chill.

“You're freezing, tesoro, let me cover you,” Donna commented with another tired sigh, unfolding a warm blanket and putting it over you.

“Thanks…” you whispered, briefly looking at the brunette, who sketched a tired smile as she continued her caresses on your hair.

“(Y/N), you have to cheer up…” she murmured after a few minutes of silence. “You don't know how much it hurts me to…”

For some reason you didn't know, you stood up furiously, misinterpreting her words.

“What hurts you, Donna? Does it hurt you that I'm a failure?” you asked abruptly, irrationally, unhinged. “Does it hurt you that I'm not able to get pregnant?”

“No…” she sighed, with her eyebrow arched, keeping the softness of her gaze. “No, tesoro, it hurts me to see you in that condition.”

“Relax, it will pass,” you commented, sitting on the sofa, with that blanket clinging to your body. “I suppose everything has an end, right?”

“What do you mean?” Donna asked, in a small voice.

“Come on, Donna, stop pretending that you care about me,” you hissed, pointing at her unpleasantly.

“Pretend? What are you talking about?” she asked confused, playing nervously with her hands.

“Oh, please, stop it,” you protested, crossing your arms. “Look, if you're going to leave me, do it now, don't make me suffer.”

“I don't understand you, leave you?” the lady in black asked again, blinking nervously.

“Yes, of course you do…” you whispered, nodding mockingly. “It's very clear. I can't get pregnant, I'm useless to you. You're probably looking for another stupid girl to let you impregnate her, to give you what I can't. That's it, isn't it?”

“Why do you say so? Tesoro, you're rambling, you have to calm down. Do you want some tea?”

“I don't want a fucking tea!” you screamed furiously, making the lady back away. “I want you to tell me the truth, to tell me that you don't need me anymore, that you're going to kick me out of your house! Because I'm useless.”

“No, non è vero…” Donna murmured, trying to take your hands, trying to make you reason. “I love you…”

“Do you love me? Please… You can't love me, I'm a failure,” you said, dragging out the words, letting the tears leave your eyes again.

“Basta, (Y/N). I can't stand to hear you say those things,” Donna said, darkening her gaze. “You're not a failure, do you hear me?”

“You can't stand, what else can't you stand? You should throw me out right now and start the family you want with another woman, a better one,” you said with a calmer voice, but hurt.

“I don't want another woman, I love you…” she sighed, more and more nervous, but keeping her composure. “Please, tesoro, stop… Saying those things…”

“It's the truth,” you said, shaking your head. “I'll pack my bags.”

“What? No!” the lady shrieked, furious, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Please, (Y/N), come back to your senses. I don't love you because you can give me a baby, I love you for who you are, I'm crazy about you, and… I, I don't care that you can't get pregnant. It's not that important to me.”

“You say that now, I can see your disappointed face,” you said, ignoring her words.

“I'm not going to deny that I would like to have a child with you, that I would like it more than anything, but… Listen to me, I'm not losing hope, besides, we can adopt,” she said, holding your nervous hands, slightly lifting your chin.

You nodded, letting the air out of your lungs, closing your eyes, regretting your attitude.

“Don't lose hope,” you repeated sobbing, playing with the fabric of the blanket.

Donna shook her head with a reassuring smile.

“Everything will be fine, amore mio, trust me,” she whispered tenderly, kissing you slowly, letting her lips silence your crying.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, a little more relaxed, leaning on her shoulder.

“Intuition...” she sighed, kissing your hair and getting up from the couch. “Come on, tesoro, take the test.”

“What for?” you asked listlessly, rubbing your eyes with your fingers.

“Just do it. I have a good feeling about it,” she said, with a sincere smile, pulling you up, giving you the object after a quick kiss.

You really didn't expect anything. You took the test so you could continue to regret it, so you could continue to sink into your failure.

“And now that damn line will appear and…” you said while washing your hands, with the test visible in the sink. You had to look at it several times, it didn't look like always. “One… Two…” you counted the lines that appeared, you counted them several times. “One… Two…”

You put it face down, you looked at it carefully. There was no doubt. Two lines.

“One… And…” you murmured, opening your eyes wide. “Gods… Gods! Donna!”

You ran towards the stairs, going down them almost doing acrobatics, almost tripping clumsily.

“Donna…” you gasped, leaning against the living room door. The lady in black looked at you, blinking in confusion at your attitude.

You didn't say anything, you simply approached the sofa, sitting next to her and handing her the test.

“Uno, due... Can you see it?” you said amused. “Look, Donna, look, one... And two...”

“Tesoro...” the lady sighed, mouth agape, observing the test like you, looking for the mistake somewhere. There wasn't one.

“Donna, I'm pregnant,” you said with the widest smile you'd ever had in your entire life, crying with joy and throwing yourself into her arms.

“Amore mio!” she exclaimed, with that same expression, hugging you tightly, laughing erratically, unable to contain her joy.

“Yes, Donna... A baby...” you sobbed, hugging her, squeezing her body in a comical way. You had done it.

“Sono così contenta…” she murmured, giving you as many kisses as she could, making you laugh, making you feel happy again.

“Baby, baby!” Angie squealed, joining in your displays of affection.

“Donna, I think this is the happiest day of my life…”

[mxtantrights]

no ordinary human

a/n: okay so after this, will be a final part. I didn't have any idea y'all would like it this much but thank you so much for the notes and the comments! fair warning since it's gonna end soon, buckle up because I wanna give you some angst. I hope you enjoy!

The wind feels good against your skin. You hadn't been able to just sit down and relax for a while now. And by a while you mean three years. That's how long you've been here for.

Three years of living in another place and longing for home.

Three years of several unanswered questions.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, holding your arms out. Work had been busy these past few weeks. And you haven't taken any time for yourself in between that and trying your best to understand your place here.

You don't notice that someone is behind you until they finally speak up.

"I hope you don't think you can fly."

You don't jump at the sound of another voice though. No, because you're technically still living in a nightmare. Not a lot can scare you anymore.

You turn around and find the source of the voice.

"Amren, I don't think I can fly." you answer.

"Good, because I have a question for you."

"Go ahead."

"Which one will you choose?" she asks.

You clear your throat. You know exactly what she's talking about. Or, you know who she's talking about. You've had this dilemma for more than a year now.

-

When Eris visited you for the second time, it was a few months after he first met you. He apologized and told you that he was trying his best to help you. You took it at face value and accepted it.

But you didn't, well you couldn't, forget that feeling deep inside of you. That he was lying but you still trusted him. Even though you didn't know him.

It's not until the third visit that you inquire a bit more about him. He seemed surprise that someone would ask about him. That someone would have questions for him.

He seemed to answer truthfully and politely. And he even ask your some questions of his own. Not that many, and they were merely basic ones.

But after that third visit he seemed to visit more often. Even if it was a quick drop in to ask how you were doing. He showed up almost every Seven days to see you. Even though he had not progress on getting you back home.

The two of you fell into a routine. Sometimes he'd bring little trinkets. Other times he'd teach you something about the current world you're living in.

It was something delicate between the two of you. You'd be a bit mad to say that you didn't find him attractive when you first met him. But that feeling only grew the more you spent time with him. He was infectious.

Sometimes he would smile and you would think that he never done it before. That he's not used to it, but he does so indoor presence which makes you feel special.

-

"Well, who says I even have to make a choice? Maybe none of them think of me that way. After all I'm just an ordinary human." you say.

Amren scoffs, "No you're not an ordinary human. And these aren't normal circumstances."

"Even if I agreed with you, for a moment, they were my friends first. I wouldn't want to ruin that."

"Azriel liked you from the moment he saw you, he just didn't want to say anything."

That stuns you. Amren takes in the look on your face and you try your best to reign it in. But you can't and she can't help but to laugh at you.

"Oh between the little things he does and how he speaks to you, you didn't put it together?" she asks you.

-

For three years Azriel has been a sort of unspoken calm in your world. From the moment you met him and he helped to get you out of Beron's hold. Of course you didn't trust him, or any of them, for the first four months.

But at some point you did. And it wasn't because of some nice gesture or fancy gift, though they did all try those routes. Azriel was the only one to realize what you needed without asking. Space.

It wasn't until one night you woke up from the worst nightmare you ever had since arriving in their world, that he denied you your space. You were clawing at your skin and screaming in your sleep.

He had jumped in, waited for you to wake up and calmed you down from there. You never had a nightmare after that.

Azriel worked his way into your life unconsciously. Whenever Amren couldn't train you, he would. And he wouldn't hold back either. No matter how many times you told him that you were still human.

Somewhere along the lines you became friends. He'd hangout with you once or twice a week, work schedule permitting. And he would invite you to family dinners sometimes.

When you decided to move out and get a place on your own he was the first one to support you and help you find a place. He helped you move and even offered to stay a couple of nights with you if you wanted another soul in the house to talk to.

He visited the most out of everyone. Always dropping by, always around to talk.

Azriel and you didn't get too deep. You didn't have to, really. It was like the two of you understood each other. The gaps of silence between the two of you were never awkward, they were welcomed.

-

"Why wouldn't you tell me this before?!" you ask incredulously.

Amren rolls her eyes, "You're not a child. Neither are they. And anyways there are other circumstances that you don't know about."

"What other circumstances are there? "

Amren sighs.

"I really think you should talk to the two of them about this." she answers.

"You brought it up!" you say.

"I know, because it was pestering me. But now I realized I opened a box that wasn't mine." she replies.

"Are they here?" you ask.

She nods her head, "Yes. In the ballroom talking to each other. Which is a sight in itself."

You clear your throat, trying to muster the courage needed for what is bound to come next. And you walk out of the terrace. You bid Amren a goodbye as you step inside.

Almost as if they're waiting for you, the both of them stand by the front door. They turn to face you when you enter the room. You try to not let the nerves over take you as you walk over to them.

Once you're in their vicinity, you speak. Or you're going to, but they both beat you to it.

"We need to speak to you." they say a the same time.

Eris opens the front door and beckons your forward. You say nothing as you walk through the door. As you walk and walk down the long hallway to your old room, you can hear their footsteps behind you.

It takes a few more moments before all three of you are in a room. You take a seat on the bed and look at the both of them before you. The both of them look like they are trying to figure out who is going to speak first.

The shadowinger crosses his arms over his chest.

"I do have to confess something to you." Azriel says.

Your eyes go wide. You wonder if he was okay with just confessing his feelings in front of Eris. Surely he knows that you and Eris are tiptoeing a not so friendly line too.

"The reason why I come around more than the others, it's because your'e different. I haven't met anyone like you and the feelings I have for you are not what I'm used to." he continues.

You nod along, "You have feelings for me?"

"Yes. That's what I'm saying." he agrees.

Your eyes flutter over to Eris, who doesn't look shocked at all. You're a bit confused.

"And you?" you ask him.

He smirks, "I have feelings for you too. A bit different than what he feels, some might say stronger-"

Azriel nudges Eris. The red head lets out a breath.

"But I haven't been forthcoming to you, since we've met." he says.

"about your feelings?" you ask.

"We didn't meet for the first time in this room. We met earlier, when you first got here." Eris answers your question.

You stand from your seat.

"You met me when I got taken?"

"No, after. When you ended up in the autumn court. I took you in." Eris confesses.

"No you didn't, I would remember-" you cut yourself off.

You remember having that conversation with him a while ago. How he has certain powers. Mind tricks. All certain things he can do to person's mind. Especially to a human mind, untrained and fragile.

"You knew your father had me and you did nothing?" you whisper, mostly to yourself.

Eris steps forward but you hold out your hand. The flash of hurt that crosses his face is palpable. You don't like seeing him hurt but after hearing what he just said, and all that comes with it, you can't find it in yourself to stop it.

"I couldn't go against him, I told you that I have plans to remove him." he tries to explain.

You nod sourly, "And why let a silly human girl get in the way of those plans."

"I don't think that." Eris tries to correct you.

But you can't get another question out of your head. You look at Azriel and he's looking at your already. Face stoic. No emotion behind his eyes. He just confessed to having feelings for you but he looks so different right now.

"You knew." you say to him.

He nods once, "I did."

"And you said nothing."

"It wasn't my place-" he starts.

"Oh my god! I can't believe this, I just fell for it. I actually fell for two people who lied to my face every single day. Since I landed here I've been a pawn and I still am."

"You're not-" Eris starts.

"I am! I still am. Why did you even tell me any of this tonight?" you ask out of breath.

Eris looks over at Azriel. The shadowsinger uncrosses his arms from his chest. They both look at you then.

"We think there is a way to send you home."

[dreamwritersworld]

How bad can I be.? (Sully family x reader)

Jake Sully. A Olo'eyktan, husband and…father. To say he was the best was well…far from the truth. With such a high role he strived for a picture perfect family.

How bad could I possible be? Let’s see.

All five of those kids had so much to give and see about the world…but with the pressure their father pushed onto them, it just couldn’t work.

how bad, bad can I be?

all the lies the people are buying.

“Neteyam are you ok-“ a fellow soldier asked the clearly disoriented Neteyam who had stayed up the entire night training only getting an hour of sleep.

“He’s fine. All is good here soldier, keep moving.”

The soldiers never questioned their leader, after all he was the best. Neteyam’s body limped forward at the sudden push to wake up, from his father…

how bad, bad can I be?

and the attention is multiplying!

Y/n did not train to become a soldier, she wasn’t the best at healing…she was connected to the world just like Kiri. Her voice was one of a siren, it provided the people with joy and happiness. In Jake’s eyes that child was made to perform. He placed his human culture onto her.

“sure I’ll play with you Tuk!-“

“Y/n you can’t speak! You must rest your voice. Go and practice your choreography right now!”

It was funny truly, Y/n may have seemed like she had it the easiest out of everyone. However she was never allowed to speak, she couldn’t have fun and say everything she was thinking. Her body was constantly exhausted from taking her energy of joy and happiness and putting it into others.

When Y/n walked through the village she held such great responsibility to be a role model. Jake had done so well at pushing his human beliefs that he got the people to go so far as follow her every move. Crowds and smiles would watch and crowd her after every performance, Y/n had panic attacks every time when they did.

how bad, bad can I be?

and their mother is lying.

“Did you see Lo’ak? I heard he was on the outskirts of the forests?”

Gasps were in reply to the whispered hushed.

Neytiri’s head turned to this taking her attention away from observing her daughter Kiri and tuk who were practing their healing skills on wounded soldier.

The two children were faced away from the people so no one saw kiri’s stressed out tears from having to work quickly and having their energy drained just as fast as their tears…no one knew the quickly beating heart and whimpers of Tuk who was all too little to have been thrown into a job like this.

“That is not true. Lo’ak was with his father, protecting our people! You must not lie again.”

Neytiri cleared up all rumors with her sternness but the truth was Lo’ak was out but…not with his father. Jake had grounded him for months for skipping training for a day, Lo’ak decided to run off…the next couple of months Lo’ak fell into some type of depression, he no longer was allowed to explore and his life was soon filled with training and only that.

how bad, bad can I be?

and their bodies are denying.

Every night, those children came home so exhausted they just limped their way to bed not realizing they were fainting onto it each and every time while their bodies begged for comfort.

Lo’ak would sometimes grow sick from training while Neteyam’s body remained sore. Kiri and Tuk bodies would heat up from taking all the pain from soldier and healing them. Y/n’s body would never forget her moves and words from her performances in her sleep, they never allowed her to fully rest. She was so afraid of forgetting and her body felt like it was moving 1000 miles per hour from the whiplash of it all.

All children just begged Eywa for a better life, willing to give anything for more.

Neteyam would give up all the stats and awards under his belt he worked so hard for just to have stress less life.

Lo’ak would give up his favorite places to visit for peace and quiet just to find something new.

Kiri would give up her love for healing to finally find peace for herself.

Tuk would give up her love for others just for another taste of her early childhood.

Y/n would give up her voice, the one she held so dearly to her heart…all for a chance to finally say more than a few words.

These children would give up everything to live like other children even if it was just for five minutes.

how bad, bad can I be?

Who cares if a few kids are crying?!…

!💓!

This is just one part…I think but i hope you guys love this !💓

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyafilms @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays @papichulo120627 @tsamiaxo @wwwellacom @dotheyevenknowmars @midgetpottermills @he110hon

[euphoricfilter]

omg you’re sooo sweet!! I love your writing and it amazes me how you intend to just do a small drabble but it’s always series worthy & ik that’s not what you plan but that’s how interesting your stories get🥹 but I have so many ideas for the “how time has changed you” couple (you don’t have to do them all or at all, just a few ideas) but maybe you can tell us more about how they met, how she fought him and how he finally got her into Stockholm syndrome, and maybe some smut along the way either right before she fell into Stockholm syndrome so (dubcon/somno) or after and their just so thirsty for each other 😮‍💨

it’s all in your head:

pairing: yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: more angst than fluff || mafia au || yandere au || non-idol au

summary: you're the one that let yourself fall

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: kidnapping, implied stockholm syndrome, unintentional mind break/ mentioned disassociation, mentions of minor injuries (bruises)

notes: chronologically happens before ‘how time has changed you’ but i think reading hthcy first is probably better ~ drabble requests closed (peep the gorillaz reference in the title) also!!! thank you??? you're sweet too my love <3 and thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read my stuff??

drabble masterlist || my main masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Human beings are flawed in design. And somewhere, mingled between all the self-loathing thoughts, somewhat of a god complex had formed. 

You wouldn’t ever tell anyone, hot embarrassment too much to handle, but truly you felt as though you were untouchable. Like the universe had a secret little rule written somewhere in the stars that luck was always on your side. 

It had been a harsh slap to the face when reality had settled in. It was strange how for days you’d been watching yourself from outside of your body. Someone so familiar yet so different, who had your face, your mannerisms, everything so very you; yet she’d fallen into the claws of a beast. No longer exempt from the evils of the world. 

While you covered your ears at the incessant banging at the bedroom door, you from the real world simply curls up further into herself. 

You were aware that your captor wasn’t going to open the door. You hadn’t exactly been the kindest in your first few days here, more than a few bruises littering his skin from your outbursts. Sticky guilt seizing your body when you’d catch a glimpse of his arms painted purple from an unjust kick, because somehow you knew he never had plans to touch you if it wasn’t on your own terms. 

The little control you had over your life in the form of a lock and key. Yoongi had found himself more than worried when you wouldn’t even open the door for food, never below begging for you to come out even if only briefly because really your health was the most important thing. 

Through prickly thoughts of impossible escape and wallowing in self-pity, you’d tried to figure out where you’d met Yoongi. Because even if you had come across thousands of faces between meeting him, surely you wouldn’t forget eyes like his. A thousand secrets hidden behind eyes almost as black as the night sky; eyes that would have no problem picking you apart with nothing but a single glance. 

He seemed to know you quite well. Seemingly knowing small, insignificant things about you. Favourite foods, snacks you’d always seem to eye when you’d wander into a convenience store of an evening. Every little hobby you’d picked up in the last six months stacked on a coffee table. Clothes you’d been eyeing online for weeks, sat in a basket that truly you had no intention of buying; a faraway dream that’s not as far as it seems. 

A prison disguised as a perfect bedroom. And as much as the bed had looked tempting, silk duvet sure to do wonders for your skin and blankets that were made of velvet; you hadn’t dared fall asleep. Not until your body had begged for rest and you’d spend an hour napping on the woollen rug, only to be woken by a tray of food being slipped through the door. 

The first time you become somewhat aware of your physical body again is when Yoongi doesn’t show up one morning. Doesn’t tell you stories of his life, doesn’t sit there as you stare at your food; praying that he would leave you alone. That he’d let you go, or at least answer the questions that have you falling into an endless hole of hysteria. 

You shower. A rushed ordeal because you didn’t know when Yoongi would return. And then you’d fallen asleep on the rug until the sun had dipped below the horizon and Yoongi had made himself comfortable outside your door again. 

You’d tried to run, dreams of a world so far out of your grasp dying in your hands as you stand there only to find heavy footsteps that stalked the halls, a brutal reminder that you wouldn’t get very far even if you tried. 

The windows didn’t open, you’d tried that. Too scared to try and smash them open, sure they were specially made– impossible to break. 

You’d lost all concept of time. Days bleeding into nights. Hours melting into one another. Where seconds are nothing more than fine dust, something you relied on truly nothing but a concept. Unattainable no matter how long you tried to count each minute or guess the day of the week. Every day is a repeat of the last. The only difference would be what Yoongi would talk about, gravelly voice ricocheting throughout your mind until you lay there awake hours after he’d gone to bed, replaying everything he’d told you that evening. 

You’re not sure when it happens, but you start to expect Yoongi. Knowing that when delicate orange light spills into your room from the window, the sky the prettiest shade of pink, he’d be there. 

Yoongi never opened the door. Voice bold enough that you can hear everything he says, walls thin enough that you can hear each deep sigh that passes through his lips when he talks about certain things that irk him just that little bit. 

When Yoongi talked, and you listened, the world was shrouded in darkness. And you simply floated, merely existed. No expectations, not that you knew of anyways. And maybe he had a hidden agenda, something a little more sinister lurking behind airy words that silenced every niggling thought in your mind that kept you awake every night. 

You don’t think much of it when Yoongi doesn’t show up one evening. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have done this. Sure to come tomorrow morning with a plate full of cake, maybe those cookies that you liked; way too expensive for you to ever splurge on. Hot chocolate or sweet tea, you’re unsure though he seems to decide based off the weather, and so you’ll have to see what a new day brings you before you hazard a guess. 

And so, you deal with the silence of the bedroom for one evening. 

By the second day of silence, you’d found yourself staring at the door again, every little creak of the floorboards in the hallway causing you to perk up. Tips of your fingers burning as you dig your nails into the carpet, feet tapping against the floor, bottom lip chewed between your teeth. Every passing hour of deafening silence tugging you further and further into a spiral. 

Without Yoongi’s voice your thoughts had amplified. 

You hadn’t been here long in retrospect, a month? Maybe a little more. Surely he hadn’t already gotten sick of you? How pitiful would that be? The very man who had shown an inkling of an obsession was already done with you. 

Day four, and you’re sat by the door, startling one of the maids who had come to give you breakfast. 

You bang your head against the wall once she closed it, the tray kicked away from you as frustrated tears cling to your lashes. Something suffocating grabbing onto your neck, a phantom hand cutting off your air as you tug at your hair. 

Self-pity is a terrible thing. An ugly emotion mutating into something a little worse until you can physically feel the sadness, tugging at your temples in the form of a headache, salty cheeks, tight with tears, or a heart that feels infinite times heavier compared to the ache of rocky blue sadness. 

As the sun rises on the sixth day, you decide to keep the bedroom door open, in hopes that a breeze from the open windows downstairs would carry some of the wretched thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone no matter how hard you tried to drown them out. 

You’d tried washing them down the drain, scalding hot shower only burning your skin, red-raw and tender to touch– physical twinge of pain still not enough to make the world silent. 

You’d sat in front of the CD player for an hour before you’d flicked through piles of plastic cases to find a song you liked. And you hadn’t been all that surprised to find they were all your favourite artists. You’d only managed to blast one song before you’d kept the volume down, always listening out for all the little noises outside the room. 

On the seventh day, you’d sat in the doorway of the bedroom, legs tucked up to your chest. You’d only made brief eye contact with the herculean man standing opposite your door before you’d retreated back into your own mind. Because as much as it was tempting, you wouldn’t dare ask where Yoongi was, sickly hatred still gnawing away at the back of your mind. 

On the eighth day, one of the maids had asked if you wanted to take a stroll in the garden; that hauling yourself up in the bedroom all day isn’t healthy. And something inside of you had fallen out of place. So completely out of character, you couldn’t recognise yourself. 

You’d started flinging pillows and blankets off the bed at Yoongi’s staff, unsure if what was coming out of your mouth was words of sobs or shaky little cries. Your body seemingly moves on its own, free will fizzling in your hands as you act on impulse.

“What’s all this?” 

You stop, hiccuping as Yoongi stands in the doorway, blurry; veiled by tears that cling to wet lashes. 

“Out. All of you” 

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands, knees cushioned by long-forgotten blankets as you drop to the floor. Footsteps of those scuttling out of the room drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears. 

Yoongi runs his thumb over his bottom lip, your shoulder shaking as you swallow down another sob. 

He crouches, still far enough away from you. 

“What’s all this about, darling?” he soothes. 

“I hate you. I hate you so much” you kick at the blankets underneath you, “first you fucking take me without asking–” 

“It’s for your own good” he shakes his head, “I did it for you”

“Bullshit” you laugh, “Normal people don’t do this” 

“You and I come from two very different worlds, baby” 

You push the palms of your hands into the sockets of your eyes, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t know you” 

Yoongi hums, gentle as he takes a step forward, slow so you can see he merely wants to be closer, “But I know you” 

“And that makes it okay for you to act like you care and then leave for days?” 

He blinks, “Is that what this is about?” a laugh bubbling up his throat, “You were lonely, is that it? Because you could have asked for me and I would have come straight home for you” 

“Huh?” your eyebrows crease, and your eyes meet his own, “that’s not–” 

“Not what?” he tilts his head, something acutely mocking in his gaze, “Not you waiting for me? Not you slowly losing yourself to your wretched little mind? Always overthinking, so caught up in your own head. I have eyes and ears everywhere– I know every little thing you’ve been doing over the last week” 

You swallow, “I hate you” 

“Lying is bad, you know?” he hums, “It’s okay to let go sometimes. It’s okay to admit you can’t do things alone.” 

You shake your head. 

“No?” 

“You weren’t here. I was alone.” 

“I’m here now. I’ll always be here for you” 

Yoongi thinks people have pre-established ideals about him because of his job. Brute force and terror had never been something he wanted to instil in you. Never wanting to wear you down, pull you so far into the darkness that you stray away from the essence of your being. He loved you as you were and simply wanted you to see eye-to-eye with him. 

He hadn’t expected you to fall so soon. Had prepared to wait many more months if it meant he could have you where he wanted you. 

It’s endearing, how much control you seem to think you have over your own thoughts. The mind is ever so fragile, and truly, we are our own worst enemies. And maybe that’s what he found so fascinating about you. Wanting to weave his way into your own world, stuck inside your own head, so many thoughts and so many ugly feelings that he’d love to just wash away. 

And to just watch you find the little piece of freedom from your own awful mind. A fucked up hero that saved you from your own hysteria, because as much as you liked to think you were the one in control, he could see it. Watched as each day you slowly started to lose yourself. 

And Yoongi will never say it, will never take the prize of you sinking into his grasp, because you’d brought yourself here. And he assumes you’ll only continue to sink further and further until all you know is him; the way it’s supposed to be. 

And very soon, he knows the two of you will find something special.

🧸 thank you for reading!!

[crystalstylehexagon]

"The Light and Darkness Reversed"

Looking at their In-game moves from Naruto Ninja Storm and League of Legends, they're basically analogies of one another: Their Kit is similar, and their ultimate is literally the same. Both destroy things out of seeking "Justice", though Kayle is BLINDED by the "Just and glorious light", following in the shadow, much like Indra to Kaguya, of her mother, Mihira, who is the true aspect, if not, the holy light itself. This analogy works well with Indra as well, not only unknowingly walking under his grandmother's shadow, but also his father's. He, before fully coming to be evil, is the man who had been strict and a relentless teacher canon-wise, he was a "Just", or "By the book" type of character, or in other words, the perfect soldier/heir for his father, only to be betrayed by the very own ideals he stood for and this might just also be the case for Kayle.

This will turn into a giant post, but bear with me.

That reminds me,

We can't forget

Ashura and Morgana The Fallen:

While Morgana's Ideals of rebellion take a similar path to Indra's, binding her wings out of spite for her kin, the ascended (People who gain powers through a holy  variety of magic, chiefly celestial magic, granting them the ability to become something more than human, channeling that power through their connection to the celestial entities), sore the ground, to feel what humanity really was about, to find out why her sister spited them and called them "Deceivers and the unjust".

she's not driven by vengeance against her own kin, nor is fully spiteful towards them, especially her just-blinded sister, but driven with the hopes of making her sister and the ascended see the beauty of mortality, of making mistakes, of love and pain, of fear, so Kayle could see what she saw in these humans.

This was also a way to stop her sister from bringing forth the "Judgement day" (basically something out of a bible story. What else do you expect from good and evil story?), meaning she would "vanquish the evil and filth from this world." even if it meant burning the planet alive from the inside out granted by the flames of her mother.

Guess who else holds the ideology for love of humanity?

Ashura.

Aside from the still-confused Hagoromo, Ashura outside of all of the Otsutsuki was an empath. From a young age, he seemed talentless, despite being the son of Hagoromo, the sage of six paths, so he spent a lot of that time playing with children his age, helping out and loved his brother very much, but slowly, their relationship grew colder

Indra, much like Kayle was afraid of making mistakes, being the perfect son, following the path of ninshu, which we could arguably call the path of "ascension from something beyond human", teaching humans how to unlock their superhuman talents, but much like every mentor, he was biased towards strength, especially as black zetsu slowly poisoned his mind.

While Kayle was afraid of feeling pain, Indra honed it to his advantage, and with that he unshackled himself and became something, not human, but back when Ashura was away and he taught ninshu, he shared same sentiment as Kayle did.

"I must feel nothing to fight injustice" - "To find grace, I cannot rest, I will not" - "I have given up everything for the light" - "The law does not tolerate imperfection. I am no exception." "If I slip, I will fall, so I must fly." - Kayle.

And Indra before finding out he was, in fact- was not the inheritor of ninshu, basically shared the same ideals. He was afraid of being imperfect, he was afraid to make mistakes at that point, he was doing everything by the book, knowing he was superior to his brother, he gave up his childhood because he was given a promise of a rightful inheritance, he knew this, he was born for this.

But he got screwed over and completely fell into the abyss of darkness and rebelled and from what I can tell, Kayle's story is going there as well: To sacrifice your whole life for a cause, only to find out you were fighting on the wrong side/get absorbed by your mother (Probably, this is just my theory.)

And then, when she would know pain, she would probably take a similar path as Indra did: Vengeance and hatred.

(Mihira: mother of Kayle and Morgana)

Then we, once again have Morgana and Ashura: The empaths who took the side of humanity, who in a way rebelled against their own system and decided to explore what being human was like; hence, Ashura's Journey.

As we know, Ashura came back home much later than Indra, and that was because he accomplished great feats. While Indra was looked onto as a god for his power, Ashura humbled himself, working with what he had honed from his ninshu training, and he worked HARD for it.

Eventually he, in a way, became a part of this community and even gained followers from his journey back, told his story to Hagoromo and hence got chosen, because not only Hagoromo saw a strange darkness in Indra,(I can't live that down, like, how could he not suspect. He has THREE EYES for fuck's sake, counting his marking as the third eye.) but because he saw HIMSELF in Ashura. He remembered his journey, his bonds and his connections with people. He saw all that was good in him (Basically the Cain and Able analogy).

And guess who does the same thing? Morgana

While she conflicted between her celestial and mortal natures, Morgana bound her wings to embrace humanity and inflicted her pain and bitterness upon the dishonest and the corrupt. She rejects laws and traditions she believes are unjust and fights for truth from...

While this may sound like Indra, i'd say it is more of an Ashura analogy.

Ashura, in his own way, rejected the traditional ways of ninshu and teachings of ninshu from a young age, because he was simply bad at it and got mocked for it, even in this journey, their father sent him to do... Whatever and come back and tell him the story so he could choose a successor.

Unlike Indra, Ashura, much like Morgana bound her wings, learned more about humanity, and bound himself and his overpowering ass. He instead felt the pain and suffering of humans, he felt their sorrow and cries for help, and he empathized with them. While being an extrovert, we cannot forget that Ashura was still - partially alien, and much like Kaguya, we don't know how Otsutsuki's emotions work. We only know that Kaguya hypothetically managed to humanize her emotions, actually felt them, maybe she mimicked, maybe Otsutsuki, when coming close to emotions, simply get overwhelmed by them (Stone-faced: Ishiki, Momoshiki, Urashiki, who, if you take a closer look, simply did not function like human beings, have similar emotions. It was either a stone face or a sadistic look, which points to Otsutsuki simply being born as dickheads, but you may prove me wrong since I hadn't read or watched the full Boruto series, only snippets).

And while being on earth for decades, I believe those genes got mixed and mutated, hence Ashura and Indra developing more but the inner conflict, something aching deep within would likely stay.

Because they're both basically demigods and they're alien demigods, I'm pretty sure both had some struggles and questions about their humanity and otherwise, and Ashura is a perfect example of overcoming that "darkness within". While Morgana uses darkness to inflict suffering on those who do evil, power does not matter, what matters is that these two have similar views about humanity, love, and family.

Ashura loved his brother dearly, and even at the end of the fight, he tried to check on him.

Morgana loves her sister despite all, and just like Ashura, she wants to make her sister see the truth, blinded by light, only Indra's vision was blinded by darkness.

When i watch Naruto, i come across some very interesting characters and analogies like these and I think out of all of them, this one is the most beautiful and poetic one out of all.

Siblings, ripped from one another by fate, forever to battle one another.

Darkness vs Light

only in League, the Light is the true evil.

But both of these come to the yin and yang theory: One cannot exist without the other, darkness needs light, and from mythologies, the Sun needs the Moon.

In Naruto, true evil is taken as a concept, not an actual literal thing, and I think Kishimoto tried hard to point that out with the end game and executed it beautifully: Evil does not exist, black and white make grey, it is all about the balance, hence Naruto and Sasuke:

The Moon and the Sun come together to defeat a great threat to protect their world, the cycle of hatred between Indra and Ashura ends with them, and both accept their roles in the world. Naruto being the light, and Sasuke being the Light's shadow.

And pretty much, if Riot doesn't come up with some weird shit, or drops the whole concept altogether, I believe that the path the story of Kayle's and Morgana's story will take is the same as Ashura's and Indra's/Sasuke's and Naruto's, which, out of many other Anime/Stories, is one of the most perfectly executed story, if we look at Naruto series like the "Good and Evil, Cain and Able, Lucifer and God" analogy path it had taken towards the end of Shippuden.

"Through light, we find darkness, and through that darkness, we find the light once more"

That's all i have to say about this.

[themadlu]

I absolutely love Zelie!

Could you write something set right after the game ends? She is tired as hell and overstressed and Astarion tries to make her feel better?

Thanks for the ask @spacebarbarianweird! I'm so happy you like her, as I love Tiriel! Wonder if they'd get along, uh.

Premise, I have never done asks (unless it's for a writing exercise) nor I am good (capable?) of writing fluff. So beware, there's as much fluff I can muster here, with a smidge of angst.

TW: none.

Tags: end-of-game spoilers (I haven't finished it yet, so if something is incorrect sorry!), fluff (kinda?), these two love in quality time and acts of service.

Hope you like it!

The charred edges of a frayed shirt stare at Astarion from the floor. He glares at them, at what they represent, in contempt: his return to the shadows. All that unprecedented (and mostly unwilling) heroism he displayed in fighting the Netherbrain served him nothing. Nothing. Not even saving Baldur’s Gate makes him worthy of a life in the sun, it seems, because, as soon as that jiggly monstrosity fell to its death, Astarion began to burn and the hunger tore at his insides.  

On the run, again, nothing more than a ravenous monster lurking in the shadows. 

(Somewhere, his conscience reminds him that real monsters don’t have impossible little heroes shielding them from the harming light with their own broken bodies.)

The elf laughs bitterly at that, hissing when his grimace irritates the still-healing skin around his mouth. 

And yet…

Steps resonate further down the hallway with a familiarity that makes his ears twitch in recognition and his body tense in eagerness. 

…she’s here. 

Zélie opens the door of their shared bedroom (Only theirs, finally.), closing it promptly behind her to block the stray sun rays from the corridor’s windows. A funereal darkness, one that Astarion is all too well-acquainted with, shrouds the room in a still embrace. 

Astarion is almost glad that his Zélie is human when surrounded by shadows. Back then, before the blooming trust, the tense friendship, the impossible devotion, he despised the maddening woman (He was terrified of her, so inconceivably real.) The darkness was the only time he had the advantage when her pale eyes would squint in temporary blindness and not witness the violence her stern kindness did to him. How it undid the tenets of the world, one by one. 

You ruined me, darling. Look at me, a fool in a doomed love. What a ridiculous joke of a vampire you made me!

He should be prowling for blood and cursing the sun, yet here he is, smiling, trying his damn hardest not to rush into his woman’s embrace. You will return to me begging when she’s gone, what’s left of his spite whispers. He ignores it, because that part of him has never known what it means to be cherished simply for existing (It knows all about being wanted, although comparing that with whatever stolen miracle he and Zélie have makes Astarion gag.)

“Finally, darling! Here I thought I’d seen the last of you, lost among all that dreadful politicking—” his snarky quips (They are part of him and Zélie loves them, so he’s decided he’ll greet her with one every single day.) die in his throat when he properly looks at her. 

Hells, he had gotten into the habit of scanning her for possible injuries during their travels, but now the fight is over, without visible wounds or bruises, Astarion can fully see the toll their adventure has taken on her. Her eyes are tired and bruised from lack of sleep (Of course, she’s been foregoing sleep to spend time with him at night.), her face tauter than ever, skin so sallow she looks sick. Astarion presses himself against her and bristles when he feels her ribs poking his body through their clothes. 

Worry, guilt, anger grip him. His brave, little saviour looks so unlike herself. So fragile and exhausted that he fears she’ll crumble to dust should he touch her. He forgets she’s human and not a divine being sometimes, with all that practicality and stony attitude of hers. Never complaining, never relenting (He knows it well.)

You moronic creature! How dare you reduce yourself in this state.

“Darling, what—”

“Oh, hello, Astarion,” Zélie seems to take notice of him only when he’s practically caging her against the door. She’s making an effort not to slide to the floor, he can tell. 

Fucking idiot. 

“Are you well? I hope the room is comfortable enough?” she nearly slurs.  

“Am I well?” Oh, now he’s angry, “Love, what the fuck—”

“Language! No need to be rude,” Astarion feels some relief when Zélie’s irises spark with that annoyed light he coaxes out of her oh-so-well. She inhales deeply, continuing “I came to tell you that I will be late tonight, so you could come and meet me near the main city gate? There’s barely any Fists left, and lots of properties have been robbed or vandalised since there are no guards so Wyll asked me—what’s with that look now?”

The pale elf stares at her perplexed face down his nose, nostrils flaring. “Do you hear yourself, you wretch?!” Her eyes are reduced to judging slits and she’s about to chastise him, but Astarion is undeterred. “No, rather, have you looked at yourself recently? Literal corpses have a healthier…flair than you do now, darling. Myself included.” 

Zélie scoffs (Scoffs!), “Oh Astarion, I admire how far you’ve come with showing concern, really, but,” she tries to push past him, but even her martial art is worthless against his full vampiric strength, “there are things, oh you vexing elf! Things that need tending to even if I’d much rather spend the foreseeable future here with you–hey!”

Astarion feels somewhat proud of the shout she lets out when he picks her up with ease (Not so puny, after all.) She is so light something lodges in his throat (Frustration at his inability to keep her safe.) and he hopes that his renewed strength is what makes his gesture so effortless. 

No one should be this light.

She used to weigh almost the same as him, all muscle and sinew from her training and a life of comfortable abundance; now, her shirt hangs loosely around her frame. 

 Fuck. Why in the nine hells haven’t I noticed before?!

He realises he voiced his thoughts when the woman in his arms replies, “Because critical stab wounds take precedence over hunger, Astarion."

"No need to blame anyone,” Zélie says as he unceremoniously throws her on the bed. She fights not to melt into the mattress. “Astarion,” his infuriating lover speaks slower, as if he were a child, “I need to go. We didn’t save this city only to let it implode in chaos. It needs me; Wyll needs me.” 

Jealousy (Unfounded but very much present.) soars in Astarion’s chest. “Well, darling, our selfless Wyll can kindly go fuck himself and find his own lover and stop pestering mine. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of offers now he’s back in line at the next Archduke. Those horns also add a certain ragged flair that many sheltered young nobles will find irresistible.” 

Zélie rolls her eyes so much only her sclera is visible. She makes to stand up, but Astarion holds her by the shoulders with one hand, pointing an accusing finger at her with the other, “Hush, you. Is that how it’ll be for the rest of time? I am tired of seeing you hurt.” That makes her expression twitch with guilt. 

Good.

He glares at her, “Now, you stay here as the good girl I know you can be and I’ll go to the kitchens to see if anything edible is left. Hopefully, it’ll be better than whatever the wizard cooked.” Astarion forces himself to tear away from Zélie’s inviting body (He did miss her all day.), but she catches his wrist before he can step away. 

“What now?!” he snarls. “You’ve driven mad for days with your ‘Respect others’ and ‘We are a group, Astarion!’ and ‘You can’t be that selfish’, and you won’t let me—”

“The sun,” she simply says, defeated. 

Oh.

How quickly Astarion has forgotten his pathetic limitations. On a quest for tavern food, defeated by the light of day. He can’t even venture outside their room. Zélie is the only person he wants to protect and can’t even feed her when she’s fed him countless times before. He snarls loudly, balling his fists, “Fuck!”

“It’s all right,” Zélie pulls him to her, unfazed by his temperamental mood, and he lets himself fall on top of her on the bed, his mortification soothed by her closeness. 

“Tell you what,” she says, breath tickling his face. Astarion holds her cheeks, sharpened by tiredness and hunger, in his hands. He rubs his thumbs over them in small circles, as if he could make them meatier, healthier, by force of will alone. “I will go downstairs, where a Fist captain is waiting for me. I will tell her to ask Wyll if the issue can wait until tomorrow or if Jaheira or Minsc,” she grimaces in worry at the idea, “can take over for the evening. Then, I’ll see if the cook has something prepared. If not, I’ll make do with some cheese and bread.”

Astarion feels a soft dizziness spreading through him. She is talking with that calm and collected voice of hers as if nothing could ever shake or hurt them when she knows what it does to him. He tangles his fingers in her curls, messing them up (An arduous task when they already look like a harpy’s.), before cradling her face into the base of his neck.  

“Then,” his little hero wraps her arms around him, under his shirt and on his scarred back. Astarion is still unused to how careful her hands are on him, like a gentle breeze. She looks at him in search of discomfort, but she finds none. The elf hopes Zélie knows that nothing she does will be the cause of any uneasiness he may show in the future (Even she can’t shield him from all his memories.)  

“I will come back here, to this bed. We’ll eat and rest and when the sun sets, we’ll go to the rooftop to see the stars and enjoy the summer air. How does that sound?” She boops his nose with hers. 

Astarion swallows loudly, “It sounds perfect, love,” he concedes. That’s as close as anyone has ever come to convincing Zélie to drop her duties and rest. Small victories. He is sure he’ll persuade her to live a life of rest and luxury, one day. If everything goes as he desperately hopes.

He is rewarded with a content smile he does not deserve, so he kisses her soundly instead. 

____________________________________________

The night is warm, comforting even. How strange; Astarion can’t remember darkness in Baldur’s Gate ever being so welcoming. A loud munching resonates on his left, and the pale elf has to keep himself from grinning too overtly at his precious woman digging into a simple beef stew as if it were the nectar of the gods. Her cheeks puff out as she takes another mouthful, her usual composure nowhere to be seen in what Astarion hopes is another first. 

(He wishes he could have been her first at everything, just as she was his.)

Midnight strikes. He would have been in some dirty tavern or dingy brothel by now if the mind flayers hadn’t mercifully kidnapped him. He would have been truly dead if the impossible creature next to him hadn’t insisted he was worth saving.

Zélie looks at him as if he performed a miracle, “This, munch, is, chomp, utterly amazing. The best thing I’ve eaten in a long, long while.” 

“Tut, love, I resent that. And here I thought I was special,” he purrs it in offended seduction just to witness his lover’s cheeks and forehead flush in embarrassment. She looks healthier already. 

Good. 

“Oh, you, sassy, snarky…ugh,” Zélie narrows her eyes at him, then immediately composes herself. “Let me specify, the best thing I’ve eaten of any nutritional value in a long, long time.” 

Astarion laughs so loud that a few pigeons fly away in fear. “Touché, love. Well played.”

“Where did you even find this? When I checked the kitchen—”

When she checked the kitchen, the useless cook was not meant to start his shift for another couple of hours, which left her with two slices of bread and a portion of cheese so small even a rat would have ignored it. So Astarion, spurred on by his newly-uncovered protectiveness, waited for his Zélie to be busy with the Fists captain before putting his daggers to good use. It was convenient that the cook had no will to test out the elf’s gutting technique. 

“Oh, darling, I am extremely resourceful. You should know this by now,” he says with a telling smirk. 

“Right. That means I don’t want to know. Though I wouldn’t be against getting more of this,” she points at the bowl of stew in admiration, “from time to time. It reminds me of my grandfather’s cooking.” 

Astarion tenses a bit at the mention of the family she left behind for him; he waits for (No, expects.) Zélie to eventually consider the whole thing as the massive mistake it is and…leave him. Hate him. Become another person he cheated not of her life (At the very least.) but of her future. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, dear?” She asks, head tilted. She can see him even without the tadpoles, and it unsettles him in a good way. 

It feels right, to be known by her. To know her in return. 

He doesn’t want to lie to her now (She’s rubbing her annoying righteousness all over him.), so he opens his arms and she scoots against him, full belly and satisfied gaze. 

Lovely. 

Astarion gently guides them to the mattress he brought up from the bedroom and curls up around Zélie. He could laugh. He despised heroes for so long and here he was, lulling one to sleep. But she was his hero, which makes all the difference; he still doesn’t believe in the natural goodness of others, but he believes in hers, and that’s all he needs. 

And she fits against him, around his jagged edges so perfectly, Astarion would believe she was made for him if he were a religious man. 

“Sleep darling,” he coos into her ear. 

She’s already halfway to the dream realm after, but she’s ever the stubborn woman. “But the sun—”

“I don’t need sleep, love; I’ll move us downstairs when dawn comes. I’ve wasted the day in bed already,” he plants little kisses on her hair, her face, her hands. Worships her as much as he can without waking her up. 

“But that’s the issue…want to…spend time with you,” why must she make it so impossible for him not to fall for her?

Every time the elf is sure he hit the bottom of the devotion he is capable of, she pushes him further down. And she doesn’t try that hard, his pesky love. 

“Hush,” he murmurs, wrapping them in a thick blanket to keep his undead chill at bay. “Rest, idiot. I’m here. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Astarion tightens his grip on her sleeping form. “We’ll take all the time we need, love. I promise.”

[sketch-guardian]

Funny thought Mc calling Uriel racist every single time she shows prejudice to our demon RAD classmates and any demon friends (excluding those that are jerks)

Cutting the line? Mc shouting racists while pointing at Uriel

Being rude to a demon for no reason? Racist!!- Mc

Being rude to one of our lovey demon RAD classmates?! “How are you an Angel if your racists and being cruel for no specific reason? Doesn’t god say you should love everyone? And they say demons are cruel and evil belong here yet your an Angel?” - Mc probably

Just a funny thought I needed to share cause Mc gives no fucks be funnier if everytime Uriel is mean for not specific reason to them or the RAD classmates they just say “Racists” while pointing at Uriel

Another + if Mc did a whole PowerPoint presentation on how racism is bad and how it effects people in the human world (POC Mc - A Mexican)

(Ps: I’m not saying Uriel is racist I just think it’d be funny,pls don’t take it the wrong way I don’t mean it offensively!! Like in Deadpool with how he calls Cable racists over Russel or how in those funny movies that have people being called racists or that one football movie scene,pls I’m begging you don’t take it the wrong way)

Don't worry, I didn't take that idea as offensive towards my OC😌actually as you said, I think it would be funny if someone actually pointed out Uriel's prejudicial attitude😂so let's proceed with the headcanon✨:

"URIEL WITH A MC WHO CALLS HER OUT FOR BEING 'RACIST' TOWARDS DEMONS "

The first time MC happens to point out that Uriel sometimes behaves in a racist manner towards the demon brothers or the RAD classmates, the warrior angel would glare at them and even if MC doesn't give a damn, they couldn't help but think that if it were not for some kind of celestial law, Uriel would have smited them already. As for the motivations behind Uriel's resentment towards demons, on the one hand it's because of how she was educated on the hellborn demons (like Diavolo), a bit like Luke at the beginning who didn't trust demons, in fact some celestial beings still struggle to accept the possible prospect of a truce with Devildom, on the other hand, however, there is a greater, deeper motivation for Uriel, namely having felt betrayed by those who once she considered superiors or even friends, seeing those same people break God's teachings that characterized her entire existence, her reason for living being broken and disrespected, affected Uriel deeply. Uriel once admired some of them, for example she looked up to Zuri, in her opinion one of the most beautiful, diligent and pure angels, alongside Lucifer, so when the 7 brothers and the others fell from grace, Uriel felt distraught, almost abandoned, and began to grow and hold back feelings of hatred and regret within herself, thinking about how things could have been resolved differently, if only they had followed the rules. Returning to the MC's reproaches, the first few times Uriel would respond in a rather cynical or dry way, reminding MC that even though those demons seem good, they are in Devildom for a reason and that they shouldn't forget it, given what they went through and risked in their presence, she would also add that quesioning God's will is a sin in the Celestial Realm, definitively more serious than her prejudice towards demons, which in her opinion is justified. As a warrior angel, not used to empathy, Uriel would need help and patience from MC and others (such as Simeon, Luke, Raphael, Nathaniel and Remiel) to overcome her block in accepting demons, however it wouldn't be impossible, showing Uriel that they're still the same people she once knew and that not everyone is necessarily evil would be enough. By improving over time, Uriel would also receive more praise from MC for her efforts, which she would appreciate. As for MC making a powerpoint to explain to Uriel why racism is a bad thing and how it also affects people in the human world, I didn't have time to make a quick sketch, but the graphic representation would be more or less something like this-

[throneofsapphics]

Hey girly I’m having such a bad day today and was wondering if you could write a lil happy thingy for me w Manon & Asterin 😔 maybe reader is having an awful day and they comfort her and give her lots of affection <3 (whenever you can ofc)

I hope you’re okay, stay hydrated and don’t forget your loved. Sending so many hugs and kisses <333

lifeline

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: Manon & Asterin comfort you after a rough day. 

Warnings: people being rude 

A/N: here’s a drabble for you, I hope your day gets better <3 take care of yourself!

The heavy oak door creaked open. In your peripheral, Manon had paused in the doorway. You refused to look at her, settling for staring at the opposite wall, tear tracks down your face. Today, it seemed like everything had gone wrong. First, you couldn’t find the papers you needed for your various meetings. Then, you were yelled at by some of the human ambassadors from other territories. Of course, you stood up for yourself; but that doesn’t mean it didn’t wear you down. In private, you let it out and couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you were what they said; incompetent, unqualified, an idiot. 

Objectively, you know you’re fully capable and good at what you do, but it hurts. Every insult, sneer, interruption weighed on you. 

Manon yelled over her shoulder - for Asterin, and the witch must’ve already been close because she was there within thirty seconds. 

She spotted you, her golden hair twisted into a tight braid as she nearly sprinted in. Manon left as soon as she appeared. 

Asterin’s hands pressed under your shoulders, tugging you up to stand and pulling you into her chest. One arm wrapped around your lower back, her hand rubbing firm circles as a fresh set of sobs left your chest. You held tightly to her, like she was your lifeline, the only thing tethering you to this world. Her presence soothed some of the ache and tension built in your chest. The silence was comforting - peaceful, letting you wet her shirt, clinging to her, soaking in her warmth as she murmured sweet things to you. 

The door flew open again, more aggressively this time. You pulled yourself away from Asterin enough to see Manon, a tray full of your favorite snacks in hand. A small smile crept on your face, the salt of your tears brushing against your lips as you tried to wipe them away. 

Asterin carefully positioned you on the couch, tucking you under her arm. Manon sat on your other side, balancing the tray on your lap as you let out a chuckle. 

“Tell me what happened,” Manon said. Not quite gently, but her normal edge was soothed. Your expression fell, chin falling down to your chest. Asterin tilted your head up, turning so you’d face her. Worry shone in her eyes, searching your face. 

“Talk to us,” she asked softly. 

The words spilled out, coming out in a babbled and almost nonsensical rant, but the two listened patiently - tensing next to you with anger, but letting you get all of your words out. “I feel like a burden -” 

Manon finally interrupted you; as you were expecting. “No,” her voice was rough, “you’re not.” The intensity in her eyes relayed what she meant - she never had to say a lot to get her voice across. Her hand braced your shoulder, squeezing lightly and drawing a small smile to your face. Her mouth indented at one side, and she looked pleased. Asterin, however, ripped you away from her, moving so you straddled her lap, and started peppering kisses all over your face. Manon snorted as you broke out into laughter. 

Later, Manon offered to bring their hearts back to you in a box. You politely declined, reasoning it would be bad for foreign relations.

[crow-aeris]

My little Fox!Tim au thing. You can find it on AO3, alongside the other- barely edited- works in the series, but you can read the first thing here too. I’m looking to post all of them here eventually, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If asked about him, the few people who have interacted with him will say, “Timothy Drake? Why, he’s such a polite little child! Timothy’s a darling, his father’s a Hunter, hear? Jack’s one of the world’s finest, and don’t forget about Janet either. She’s the best tracker money will find you. I’m sure the kid will grow up just like them. Timothy is a Drake through and through.”

His father would place his hands on Tim’s shoulders, nudging him forward with a broad, charming grin. His mother would smile too, sharp and cold and cunning.

If asked about him, people would not doubt that he’s a human. Timothy acts like a human, smells like a human, and has a Hunter for a father! Why would Timothy Jackson Drake be anything other than human?

Well, there are two reasons why.

His too-sharp senses, his pointy teeth, and his eyes, weren’t they glowing just a second ago?

As a child, Tim remembers his mother whispering in his ears just before she leaves with Jack on another Hunters’ trip, “Remember, my Moon, I love you. I know you’ll miss me, and I’ll miss you too, but this is for your own good. I will return soon, I promise. And when you’re old enough, I’ll tell you everything. I Promise.”

She would kiss his forehead and a blanket of warmth would settle over his shoulders, and he would feel safe and content.

One day, while Tim was perusing the Drake Manor Library, he stumbled across a book written by an author whose name was scratched out long ago. He was leafing through the pages, something guiding his hands and quietly telling him where to go. His hands stopped at a page written in another language- images drawn in dark ink, punctuated by splashes of bright cinnabar. The pages, no doubt once a beautiful white, were now a washed-out bige.

Tim ran his small fingers down the image of an elegant fox, whose body seemed to twirl and writhe despite being confined to the smooth, aged bamboo paper. Wide blue eyes were filled with indescribable awe as he drank in the picture of the creature. The words describing the creature, although foreign, were clear and legible.

After feasting his mind on the knowledge of the Huli Jing, not-quite-human and not-quite-fox creatures who could shift between both forms, Tim darted back into the main body of the manor. The housemaid would be here soon, and Tim doesn’t want her reporting back to his parents.

Throughout the rest of the day, Tim couldn’t get the thought of the Huli Jing out of his mind. Every time Tim tried to do something else, the memory persisted.

Honestly, it was growing annoying.

Even as he settled down to try and sleep for the night, he dreamed of scarlet foxes dancing around him. Some had two tails, others had seven, but foxes had nine. Despite this strange and confusing scene, Tim couldn’t help but feel drawn to them. The foxes herded Tim in front of a mirror, where he peered in to see a pair of pale blue eyes staring back.

Tim yelped, jerking back on paws that replaced his hands and feet. His fur bristled as his ears pinned back against his skull. Distressed cries spilled from his lips as he turned and streaked away, his heart pounding jack-rabbit-fast in his chest.

The world around him rippled and twisted from a milky white to an inky black in mere seconds. He cried out as something caught on his paws, tripping him and sending him tumbling. He let out a wordless scream as he began to fall, a feeling akin to thousands of ants biting into his skin drove the child on.

“MOM!” Tim cried as he fell off a cliff, his body hurtled towards the bottom of a thousand-meter deep ravine.

Inches away from meeting a pancake’s end, Tim jolted awake with wide eyes, sweaty palms, and a heart that was beating far too fast and far too loud for his liking. His bedroom seemed so much brighter than before he went to sleep, almost as if someone had turned on his nightlight.

Tim’s blood roared in his ears, pounding in time with his heartbeat as he forced himself to take deep and measured breaths. But when he tried to clench his hands into fists, the sheets under his fingers came apart with a riiip, and Tim jerked back to see the fabric torn to shreds. He whimpered softly, hissing in pain as he accidentally pricked his lip with his tooth.

What in the world was going on?

He carefully unhooked his hands from the sheets and examined his new, sharpened, elongated, claw-like nails. Each one of his fingers seemed tipped with ivory talons that gleamed under the bare moonlight. With only a second’s thought, Tim brought the claw to the back of his forearm and pressed down. He could only watch in a weird sense of fascination as his skin parted with the pressure, but the scratch almost instantly healed with a rush of chill.

Tim needed to head to the library now.

He tried to hop off the bed like he usually would, but his blankets wrapped around Tim’s legs like a snare and sent him crashing to the floor with a startled yelp.

As soon as the impact registered, a harsh wave of cold tore through his body and forced a pained cry from Tim’s lips. He gasped softly, screwing his eyes shut and sobbing as his entire body shuddered. Tim could feel his bones crack, break, and soften before hardening into new positions.

“M-Mom,” Tim sobbed, screaming as he was suddenly hyper-aware of each and every bone in his bone painstakingly snap and reheal themselves in different positions, “M-mom! It- It hurts! PLEA-SE.”

Tim’s eyes snapped open, his cries stuttering to a brief halt as he felt his face change and elongate, the process stalling in response to his sudden wave of panic.

Ivory laws scrambled against the wooden floor in his desperation to find a mirror- anything to confirm this was real. Tim hissed as his still-soft bones wailed in protest, whimpering every time he placed weight on even one of his limbs.

After a painstaking four minutes of searching, the young child found what he was looking desperately for.

He came to an abrupt stop, shock and confusion flooding his brain.

Tim’s pupils were different from their usual round shapes, and his pupils were now vertical slits surrounded by his familiar pale-blue irises. They were almost… Cat-like. No- fox-like.

Tim felt exhausted and collapsed into a heap, allowing his muzzle to finally finish taking form.

He was… a Fox?

It took some getting used to, but Tim eventually figured out what had happened.

After his initial shock and terror had faded, Tim spent the entire night and most of the next day struggling to turn back into a human. Each attempt yielded massive amounts of pain, and he was tempted to give up more than a few times, but he pulled through.

But now, there was another problem. A big, intimidating, and potentially life-threatening problem.

Tim huffed anxiously, pacing back and forth in his room. His parents were due back in a few days- What was he supposed to do?

His father is a Hunter, a person who traps and kills creatures like werewolves, creatures like Tim.

Was his mother a fox as well? Is that why Tim’s a fox? If so, then why would Janet marry Jack, an infamous Hunter? Why would his mother continuously choose to put her life in danger?

He took a deep breath, absentmindedly noting how his sense of smell increased dramatically since last night, before realization smacked him square in the face.

The manor smells human.

The manor smells human.

Specifically, the manor smelled like a human Hunter.

That was why his mother married Jack Drake!

Tim’s father was a Hunter, and Hunters always smelled strongly of residual magic, blood, and something else, so there would be no wonder that a Hunter’s partner and a Hunter’s son would smell so strongly of magic. Being so close to a human would also make Tim and Janet smell human by proxy!

Tim’s mother was so clever.

He grinned, a burst of pride soaring in his chest as he twisted around to stare into the mirror. Tim’s eyes were still their usual pale, nearly white, blue, but his pupils were finally back to their rounded shape.

With an exhale, Tim tightened his resolve and steeled himself.

This… Is fine! Tim can handle it! He’s four, a big boy, and so all he needed to do was lay low and keep calm.

As long as Tim lays low and keeps his discovery to himself, Jack will never find out.

Yes, that’s exactly what he’ll do.

===

Yall are the ones who explicitly stated that you wanted it, so here yall go!

@icereader12 @summermermaidfariy @mushroom-wife

[secretsocietyofgamejumpers]

R-E-S-P-E-C-T—Pt. 1

My first fanfic is dedicated to my favorite underappreciated space marine, Private Markowski!

“It’s lonely at the top.”

How many times had Markowski heard that saying before? But as far as he was concerned, it was lonelier down below.

Up here, at the very top of the Research Lab, he was far away from his fellow soldiers’ mockery—no longer could he hear Spears and Loya lamenting they only needed to fill one more space on their Markowski Mess-Up Bingo Cards, or Kersavage smugly demanding the money he’d bet on Markowski’s latest failure.

But most of all, he was far away from Sergeant Calhoun. He knew she’d be furious, as she always was, especially since the latest gameplay had ended with him turning into a human bowling ball, with the unfortunate sergeant as his pin. He knew he was in for a world of hurt—what punishment would await him this time? Would his Tapper’s privileges be revoked? Would he get demoted to rank -1? Public depantsing? Whatever it was, it would be something his fellow soldiers would never forget, and never let him live down. 

Markowski heaved a heavy sigh as he lied down on top of the tower. Staring up at the smoggy sky, his bleak surroundings seemed to reflect his lot in life—the disrespect and ridicule that had, in short order, become his reality. Every game, he’d made some blunder, like falling off the tower, stepping on Cy-Bug eggs, or letting his gun get eaten. Usually the player hadn’t noticed, but Calhoun was not a lady who liked to take chances. After every game, she’d given Markowski a public dressing-down. They’d only been plugged in for a week—but already he’d gotten thirty lectures from the Sarge. And as he walked back to the barracks or the mess hall or the field hospital, without fail he would be ribbed relentlessly by his comrades. 

The nicknames his fellow recruits had bestowed on him still rang in his mind. “Dough Boy”…”Skid-Markowski”…”Private Humiliation”… 

“MARKOWSKI! Where is he?”

The sergeant’s angry voice from below broke Markowski from his reverie. He scrambled to his feet, but fell back on his behind—and as he did, he heard an almighty CREAK.

Markowski stood up slowly, hoping the sound hadn’t come from his back—and as he did, he saw death itself staring him in the face. 

It came in the form of a gargantuan cloud descending on him from above, a horrid buzzing sound and a sickly green glow emanating from it. As the strange shiny cloud loomed closer, its form began to change—into a shape Markowski knew all too well. The mass formed the familiar pincers and sharp-edged wings of an enormous Cy-Bug, which Markowski realized in mouth-agape, trembling horror was made up of millions of the murderous insects. 

“MARKOWSKI!” 

Even over the din of the Cy-Bugs’ metal murmurings, Sergeant Calhoun’s enraged voice cut like a knife as she zipped up to the top of the tower on her cruiser, pointing one sharp, accusatory finger at the private.

“I should have known.”

“S-sorry, Sarge!” Markowski stuttered. “I-I fell and…”

“Likely story.” Calhoun scoffed. “You fell on the lever that says “Do Not Touch.”

“L-lever?” Markowski glanced behind him—there, indeed, was a tall lever planted in the jagged metal of the roof. “Honest, ma’am, I didn’t know there was a lever.”

“As you shouldn’t have.” Calhoun fixed the private with a dark stare. “We don’t know what that lever was meant for, and it’s going to stay that way.” 

As the Cy-Bug monstrosity loomed closer, Calhoun hopped onto the roof, scanning her handprint on the panel at the edge, then tapping the sequence of buttons that activated the laser beacon that slayed Cy-Bugs at the end of each game.

As the giant Cy-Bug flew into the light and evaporated, Calhoun, her face glowing with a combination of rage and blinding beacon light, turned to Markowski once more.

“One more slip-up, Private, and I’ll be sending you to Undead Apocalypse slathered in meat tenderizer.” She scowled, breathing down his neck. Then, with a curt snap and a point to the space next to her on her cruiser, Markowski joined the sergeant as she zipped down to the ground. 

As they landed, Markowski could hear the jeers of his fellow soldiers, and he could see one brandishing a video camera and another duo of marines sharing a bucket of popcorn as they took in the spectacle. 

Markowski sulked past them to the barracks. He planned to hide under the blankets for the rest of the night, and maybe even the rest of his life.

[not-that-dillinger]

🧞

For Ed!

@the-haunted-office

"Three wishes with no consequences? Okay, uh..." Ed looked down at the floor, though his gaze seemed to be focused on something further. Or on nothing at all. "Three wishes, and only three, so I gotta make them count, right? But. How concrete do they have to be? Like, what if I wished for a perfect world? would the wish granter know what I meant by that? Or does it have to be realistic? like, if I wished I could morph into a...I'd say a pigeon, but pigeons have predators, so... maybe an owl? Or maybe something smaller, like a house sparrow? What if I wished I could shapeshift into a bird and back into a human at will? would that be granted?"

Ed tapped his lips with his index finger. There was a very long pause, and then he sighed. He slipped off his glasses with one hand, and pulled out his cleaning cloth with the other. Despite the lenses being in pristine condition, he brought them up to his mouth, breathed on them, and then folded the cleaning cloth over both sides and rubbed at the lenses in circles to polish them.

"I..." his tone went up a pitch, but he spoke at a near whisper. "I wish I could finally be safe," he said finally, "that I didn't have to constantly look over my shoulder in fear that he'd send Peter or someone else to abduct me and force me to work for him. I... I don't necessarily wish he were dead--I don't want to wish for his death, that's a terrible thing to wish for--though it feels like that is the only way I ever will be safe. Maybe... maybe if fCon went bankrupt, if he lost the company and all his financial assets? I don't know if even that would do it. Or... Or that Everyone would forget that I'm his son. That we're related. Everyone including him. It would be better if he would forget that I existed. That--That would actually take care of another wish, that Mackey would stop pointing fingers at me every time something went wrong, or at least he'd have to find another excuse besides my supposed 'connection' to the CEO of our biggest competitor. Maybe then, everyone will see me, and not... not his shadow."

He fell silent again, rubbing the cleaning cloth in endless circles on his glasses as he thought.

"I'd like my health back. The CFS and chronic carpel tunnel syndrome gone for good, and maybe the celiac's disease and allergies. But--but not just my physical health. My mental health as well. The anxiety and depression gone. Though, I don't necessarily want my memories erased. I don't know who I would be without them. I fear I would be someone worse that I am, but... they're the root cause of..." he gestured toward the top of his head, toward his skull. "all of that mess."

Ed sighed. "What else? I think I still have one more? The bird shape-shifting thing would be cool, gotta admit. Or... I'd say the ability to eat a loaf of fresh bred without it fucking me over for a week, but the second wish has that covered. Infinite loaves of bread? All the croissants and cakes and sourdough bread I could ever wish for? Y-know, my mum, before-- before she divorced him, she took on a job as a baker, to pay the bills. She'd come home smelling of bread, and... I never got to taste any of it. Heard from her coworkers that she was quite talented at it. But. What I remember most about her, was the specific blend of chamomile-lavender tea she used to make for me when I had nightmares when I was a kid. I don't know what specific blend she used, and none of the ones I find taste quite the same. I wish I knew which one she used to buy. But... even more... I wish... I wish I could find her. Reconnect with her or at least... I dunno. Know for certain that she doesn't want me in her life any more or something."

He took shaky breath. "So. Yeah. That's what I'd wish for."

[rolloollor]

Abandoned Draft of an Unnamed Mallerollo Dragon Sacrifice Fic

This ended up not having enough conflict for my liking and it just fell flat. I personally don't think it's that great overall, though I can't show you more than the first chapter yet because I use a chunk of the second in the fic I'm currently working on. If people are still interested in seeing more after I post the newest longfic, then I'll share the rest.

This isn't polished, so temper expectations.

Rollo hissed as his captor tightened the ropes binding his arms behind his back. The rough material bit into his skin, promising blood if he struggled.

But it would flow regardless.

He knelt in the cold mud on the tallest hill near the village. The skies overhead were heavy with clouds. Flashes of heaven’s wrath illuminated the ground below for a handful of seconds each time, followed by sweeping explosions of sound.

Three elders—two men and one woman—stood before Rollo, facing the crowd seething at the base of the hill. The youngest of the three, a man with a permanently ruddy face and neck from drink, held up his hands. The mass of people quieted.

“Today marks the tenth full day of storming lightning,” he said, his voice quavering with age. “There is but one explanation for this. The dragon of Mt. Briar,” he paused, pointing to the jagged mountain on the horizon, “is displeased.”

Murmurs swept through the gathered villagers. Rollo glared at the elders’ backs. Dragon, indeed. No one standing here had ever been to Mt. Briar, let alone seen the monster in question.

“How, then, do we reclaim the sun?” asked the female elder, her gray braid shifting against her shoulders as she gesticulated. “We must sate the beast. Legends say that dragons delight in the flesh of humans with the curse of magic flowing in their veins.”

The oldest man, leaning on a gnarled walking stick, spoke next. “Many in our village have this curse. It is no threat, as long as one does not dabble in it. Most acknowledge the danger, the potential to go mad and ooze murky filth, and never make use of magic… They are our neighbors. Our friends. Our family.”

Rollo sneered. Was he not their neighbor?

A familiar, quivering voice came from the throng. “But… But Rollo has never handled magic.”

Valentin. A young man around his age, one who always seemed to find an excuse to meet with him. He had the spark, as well—trying to defend Rollo could come with significant consequences. If his line of sight wasn’t blocked by the trio of codgers, he might have given Valentin a sharp shake of the head.

The youngest elder grunted. “As far as we know, he has not. But I suspect he has. His brother could not resist the call, after all.”

Jehan.

Rollo’s stomach flipped. They had the audacity to bring up Jehan?

Once more, like they did every night as he tried to sleep, his piercing screams echoed in his head.

They had gone out into fields illuminated by the moon. Jehan had said he was going to show him something amazing, something he might never forget.

Magic. It had turned on him. Eaten him alive.

His younger brother, his only family, the person he had loved most in this world, reached a burning hand out to him. Rollo's heart thudded, each beat slamming against his ribs. The scent of seared flesh coated his throat. He couldn’t get enough air. He would drown in the middle of the field as Jehan's howls consumed the night.

He had not taken Jehan's hand.

Instead, the boy, barely nine, had charred, his skin flaking. His legs had turned to ash as his wails faded into gurgling moans. Then there was nothing but the crackling of endless flame.

Rollo had been rooted to the spot, staring at cinders, until someone stumbled upon them the next morning.

But that had been years ago. Rollo’s shoulders heaved with ragged breaths as he stared at the grass beneath him.

How dare they bring up Jehan? They understood nothing! None of them had seen his end with their own eyes. The pile of ash could not convey the horror of that night.

“Jehan didn’t lose his mind!” Rollo shouted. “No black fluids flowed from him—he died to out-of-control flames! His screams,” he paused, swallowing hard, “didn’t you hear them? Why did no one come to help? You let him die!”

A small, sharp voice whispered in his mind, “You didn’t take his hand. You stood there and you watched.”

Rollo grit his teeth. He was innocent! What could he possibly have done?

“Something. Anything. How betrayed Jehan must have felt to witness you do nothing.”

He was blameless! He’d had no options, no way to save him!

The female elder turned to look at Rollo, her eyes devoid of warmth. “You let your younger brother partake in magic. His blood is on your hands, not ours.”

Tears welled in his eyes. No. No, it wasn’t his fault. He had loved Jehan, who had been so excited about his magic trick…

“Rollo Flamme is a threat,” continued the female elder. “And the dragon needs a sacrifice.”

The codger with the walking stick nodded. “He is the best candidate. Unless someone wishes to take his place?”

Utter silence. Valentin did not speak up, but such was to be expected. Circumstantial friendship was not enough for someone to die in his stead.

Moisture climbed up his linen clothing from his knees. The elders directed a group to build a fire. Not to burn Rollo, but to create a smoke signal to try and communicate with the dragon. He peered at them. They were men and women he knew. They had offered condolences when his brother passed, shared food with him at festivals, and applauded his hard work tending to the goats.

To think he had lived among these people for twenty years and, at the first sign of trouble, they were more than happy to have him killed.

After he died in agony, they would live on, basking in the rewards his sacrifice had earned them. Would they feel even the slightest bit of gratitude?

With the elders busy with the fire, Rollo could now gaze out at the faces in the crowd, at people he had thought he had known. Valentin was conspicuously absent. Had he left to avoid seeing his end? Wise.

“Is the smoke signal ready?” the youngest elder asked. “We must hurry.”

A few men and women held a wet blanket over the bonfire they had stoked. After a moment of covering the blaze, they pulled back and allowed a ball of gray to erupt toward the sky.

Would the dragon notice such a flimsy method of communication? If it didn’t come, would they blame Rollo?

This was a lost cause. Even if there was a flying lizard that lived on Mt. Briar, what use would it have for him? If it didn’t accept him as an offering, it did not mean he could return to life as it had been. At best, they might exile him and he would fall victim to the wilderness. At worst, they could vent their frustrations with violence.

How dare they do this to him? Rollo didn’t deserve such a grisly end. Had he not dealt with enough in his life? Without his parents, he had done his best to raise himself and his younger brother, only to fail him. He had eked out a living as a goatherd, tending to animals he did not own and making just enough to keep himself from starving to death. And now they saw fit to subject him to this?

The world was cruel. The world was wicked.

There was no justice.

Loathing filled him, flowing through his veins, turning solid in his gut.

“What if it does not accept our… gift?” the female elder asked the others.

The man with the stick stroked an unkempt beard. Old, blurry eyes turned Rollo’s way. “The scent of blood,” he paused, sucking in air. “May entice it…”

Scalding contempt climbed up Rollo’s throat. They would snuff out his life for the mere chance of satisfying this entity none of them had ever seen.

No. He would tolerate this no longer!

Physically, he had no way to get out of his restraints. Magically… Well. He might immolate himself, but at least he would die by his own hand!

Neglected pathways within himself opened, allowing power to surge. These people needed to be cleansed. Their filth and antipathy would not wash away—something stronger was necessary. If they saw nothing wrong with leaving him for dead, then they deserved naught but the pyre!

Furious, greedy flames erupted from Rollo, engulfing his body and eating through the ropes. The crowd below screamed. Those tending to the smoke signals dropped their blanket and bolted. The elders shouted, demanding people remain calm. Rollo turned toward them.

The oldest yelped and stumbled backward. He toppled, rolling down the hill. His cane fell, but did not follow him.

Good. If he hadn’t perished from that, Rollo would finish him later. This fire of his did not hurt him and somehow did not turn his clothing to ash, so he had more than enough time. Before that…

He turned toward the remaining elders. Which one should he deal with first?

They jerked, eyes wide. The old woman held her arms out in front of her, as though she could defend herself from the blaze.

“Just like your miserable brother,” the male elder wheezed.

An easy decision.

Rollo lunged. The male elder tried to dodge, but his age made him slow and feeble. Rollo snatched his wrist, allowing his flames to scorch the weathered skin, turning it red, then black. The elder shrieked, his gummy mouth opened in agony.

But it was nothing like the pain Jehan endured—wayward magic had enveloped his small body and gnawed at him until all that was left of him was no longer human. Even this man’s cries were half-hearted in comparison. He deserved worse.

Everyone did. No one in this wicked village, this cruel world would escape his judgment.

Then the earth shook as though quaking with shared fury. Rollo wobbled where he stood, accidentally letting his prey go. Too ancient to keep themselves upright, the elders collapsed. The old man’s bellowing ceased.

The tremor stopped.

“Oh,” came a deep, booming voice. “A human.”

Rollo whirled around.

A reptilian behemoth stood on four legs. Translucent wings folded against his back, unnecessary for the moment. It bore dark colors and strange, thorn-like protrusions along its spine. Two shining horns and webbed frills approximating ears jutted out of its head. A long tail ending in three prongs whipped back and forth, cutting through the air. The dragon opened its maw, releasing a burst of green embers. Its teeth glistened in the dim light.

Rollo’s blood froze.

It was real. He was going to die.

The beast lowered its head closer to Rollo, allowing its horrible, pupilless gaze to bore into him.

“Stay back!” Rollo yelled, reaching out a hand to singe the dragon.

It blinked. “I am a dragon; fire does not frighten me.”

Slowly, its snout approached, radiating its own powerful heat. It brushed against Rollo’s torso and… sniffed at him like a dog. The hair on the back of Rollo’s neck stood on end. Unlike with the elder, his flames didn’t do anything to those hard scales.

“Hmm…” Its forked tongue flicked out of its mouth to taste the air. “You cannot maintain this level of magic for long without a magestone. Stop channeling, human, or you will lose yourself to blot.”

Blot? Was it referring to the muck that bled from mad mages?

But if that happened, would he not be better able to enact his judgment? He would be far more deadly.

A low rumbling sounded from the dragon’s throat. “If you refuse to obey my command, I will ensure you bow to my will by force.”

Something bore down on him, impossibly heavy. His legs crumpled and he found himself on his hands and knees in the mud, unable to push back against the mass of what could only be magic pressure. He grit his teeth.

The wildfire around him went out. Hazy smoke drifted off his limbs as the dragon relented, dropping the magic that had held him down. His body trembled as he heaved himself upright again.

“So you can still stand… Many fae would not rise, after that.” The dragon’s tail swished back and forth. “What an obdurate human. Tell me your name.”

Rollo took a raspy breath. Exhaustion pulled at every part of him, demanding he sleep. But that only made him even less enthused in speaking to this monster. “…Is it not rude to ask for someone’s name without giving your own?” he spat.

The dragon said nothing for a moment. “You… are correct, yes. I am called Malleus.”

Rollo huffed. “Rollo Flamme.”

“Flamme.” Malleus lifted its head and stared down his snout at Rollo. Above him, the clouds began to part, allowing rays of sunshine to reach through. “You are a threat to your fellow humans and should be dealt with as they see fit. And yet, I find myself intrigued…” It paused. “Rejoice, Rollo Flamme, for I will accept you into my household.”

What?

Accept him into—?

No, none of that made sense. This was some sort of ploy to get him to drop his guard so it could feast on his entrails.

“I have no interest in living with a dragon,” Rollo said, taking a step back.

“Oh? You would rather remain here?”

He frowned and glanced toward the remaining elder. The old man had fainted, no doubt overwhelmed by both the pain of his wounds and the presence of a dragon. The woman had not lingered.

There was nothing left for him in this place, not now that he had attacked someone. Still, it would be better to take his chances out in the forest than in a dragon’s clutches. He might be able to reach another village by morning if he started walking now. But they would discover what he had done, sooner or later…

“Why did you attack these humans?” Malleus asked, its massive face pointed at the unconscious elder. “With magic, no less… You are a such a violent species; it is a miracle some of you yet live.”

Rollo glanced about, looking for a path he could take if he decided to bolt. “They wanted to offer me to you as a meal.”

The dragon paused, his tail halting mid-swing. “…Hm. Well, all the more reason to bring you with me.” Malleus lifted itself onto its hindquarters. “Brace yourself, Flamme.”

Tension rooted Rollo’s body to the spot. Brace for what?

Before he could open his mouth, his sight failed him. Everything was pitch black, worse than a forest on a moonless night. Had that monster made him go blind? He reached out a hand only for his fingertips to collide with something impossibly smooth and curved. It was all around him—Malleus had put him in some sort of sphere.

“What is this?! Let me out!”

“Land-dwelling mammals do not tend to enjoy flight. I have heard they tolerate it better when they cannot see the ground.”

The darkness around him shook and his stomach dropped the way it might if someone larger lifted him into the air. Rollo’s legs gave out and he fell, solid darkness catching his body. The ascent abruptly halted. One side of the enclosure emanated heat as if Malleus now held the sphere against itself. Rollo flattened himself away from it.

“It will be a short flight,” Malleus said. “Home is not far.”

Then came the sound of beating wings and the nauseating sensation of going upward without any control. He had nothing with which to hold on, so Rollo ended up on the ‘floor’ again.

A dragon’s household. If nothing else, he was not dead yet. He could find a way out of this. The moment Malleus lowered its guard, Rollo would seek his freedom. Providing that was at all possible in the first place… He had never climbed a mountain before and had little idea as to what it entailed. Worse, he had nothing but the clothes on his back.

Malleus could fly, breathe fire, and conjure horrible containers to trap someone. How could he slip away from him unscathed?

There was a sudden dip downward, making Rollo’s gut do a flip. Weren’t they flying to the top of Mt. Briar?

Malleus settled on solid ground with a jolt. The temperature plummeted, the cold seeping into his skin. He hugged himself. His linen tunic was appropriate for summer or the hotter days of autumn, not a snowy mountain top.

“There, now we are home,” Malleus said.

The smooth sphere around him seemed to fade and suddenly Rollo was standing on frigid rock. Somewhere far above and half-obscured by rock, light hovered out of reach. It did little to help him see—at best, it revealed the outlines of some strange stone spires reaching upward toward the ceiling and down toward the floor. Malleus’ massive lizard-like form stood nearby, his green eyes somehow aglow, penetrating the darkness to stare directly at Rollo. Somewhere, water dripped, the noise faint but ever-present.

Rollo walked toward the fleeting glimpse of the sun and found a wall. He ran his fingers along it, finding damp, slippery moss clinging to it. It must have been taller than Malleus—impossible for Rollo to climb. But, at what must have been the mouth to this cavern, leaves sometimes waved along the edges. If he could just get up there…!

“Flamme.”

Rollo winced. He turned to face Malleus, whose head was mere handspans away from him. He jolted with a yelp.

“How skittish you are,” Malleus commented. He nudged Rollo with his snout. “You appear to be shivering.”

“Obviously,” he said through his teeth.

Malleus nodded. A moment later, warmth spread around Rollo, almost as though he had donned his clothing after they had dried in front of a fire. The chill still reached his face and hands, so the dragon must have made the fabric emanate heat.

“That should keep you comfortable for the time being. Now—”

An irritated rumbling came from his stomach and interrupted Malleus. The sound bounced around the walls, turning from something embarrassing to unsettling.

What if other creatures lurked in this cave?

Malleus tilted his great head. “You are hungry?”

“…Yes.”

“Hmm…” Claws idly scraped against the rock beneath them both. “What do you eat?”

Did the beast intend to fatten him up before eating him? Fine. If it left to acquire a meal, then Rollo could try to escape.

“Bread, mostly.”

Malleus blinked. “Bread?” it echoed as though the term was unfamiliar.

Indeed, what use would a dragon have for cooking or baking? Rollo sighed. “Fruits, vegetables, meat… Milk and cheese.”

“Not leaves? Bark?”

Did it think humans ate like goats or deer? “…No.”

Malleus huffed, a puff of smoke leaving its mouth. “Then I must go and find meat for you. Wait here for my return.”

In one motion, it hopped up the wall blocking Rollo from the entrance and, at the top, spread its wings, the span as wide as Malleus was long. Without the least bit of hesitation, Malleus leapt into the air. It disappeared out into the world, leaving Rollo alone.

Rollo examined the moss-covered barrier again—it was utterly smooth, with nothing for him with which to hold on. He scratched at it, seeking any kind of purchase, and gained only grit beneath his nails. Damn! He slammed his fist against it. The outside world was within sight, but beyond his reach!

That left him with one option. Rollo gazed into the depths of the cave, his heart sinking. Could there be an exit on the other side?

There was no time to waste—his life depended on his next action. He had already faced death more than once within the span of an hour or so. This time, he had control over his fate. He could wait for the dragon’s return or he could try his luck looking for a way out.

In truth, there was but one option.

Gritting his teeth, Rollo stepped into the darkness.