#he would play it disembodied following him through the dreaming in a cloud of sound

[raspberryjellybrains]

RIP Morpheus you would've loved Mitski

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Raindrops & Roses

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Bucky finds a place to call home where your dreams intercept. Warnings: 18+ only, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving) WC: 2100

Raindrops & Roses || Whiskers & Kittens || Tied Up With Strings

The day seemed peaceful enough as you sat in a hammock, softly swaying as the tree did with the wind. The only sound came from the rustling of the wind through the leaves and the quiet creak of the rope holding you suspended in the air. For miles around the rolling hills stretched, its vibrant green almost too vivid to be real and only broken by the shimmering waters of the lake that lay on your property. Yes, it was peaceful here.

“It's unlike anything I have ever seen.”

You startled at the disembodied voice that echoed around the farmlands and your hammock swung wildly as you spun around to try and find the owner of the voice. You didn’t find anyone else around so you reached over to the matching hammock on the next branch and tapped Bucky on the shoulder. He lowered his well worn copy of The Hobbit to his bare chest and turned his bright blue eyes to you.

“Did you hear that?” You asked.

His eyebrows furrowed together and he shook his head as he sat up to look around the vast expanse that was void of anyone but the two of you. There was never anyone else here, only you and Bucky. But even he had to leave sometimes.

“Must have been a bird.” He shrugged, seemingly satisfied by his glance around and returning to the pages he must have almost memorised by now.

You weren’t as appeased as he was but laid back in the conforming material anyway and returned to the book you were reading. Time seemed to fall away when you were with Bucky and you couldn’t recall how he actually came into your life. One day you were here all alone and the next he was walking into your house looking just as confused as you were. Now you looked up from your book and found Bucky had disappeared again.

Closing your book up, you sighed and hopped down from the hammock to head inside, knowing you needed to do something to distract you from his absence. The days always seemed longer when he was gone, when he disappeared to who knows where doing who knows what, but he always returned. The sunlight dimmed the bright skies as a cloud passed by and you turned expectantly.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Bucky grinned as he stepped through the door and wrapped you in his arms. “Did you miss me?”

“I missed you the second you disappeared.” You admitted as you tipped your head back so he could press his lips to yours. “I was thinking about going for a swim in the lake but…”

You looked past him and saw the skies already darkening outside your windows and once again wondered why the skies always turned grey after he arrived home. They never lasted long once he returned, within hours they would give way to the eternal sunshine that bathed over you and his mind would calm with the blue skies. Even now as you looked into those blue pools you saw the reflection of a storm deep within them but he wouldn’t talk about it.

“Sorry.” He sighed as he pulled you tight to his chest and rested his cheek on the top of your head.

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze. “I’d take on all the storms life can throw at me as long as it meant you came home.”

Jazz music began to drift around the room and you looked at Bucky to see a sly look in his eye before he took your hand and spun you around. He caught your hip as he pulled you back in and sang quietly in your ear as he led you around the room to a song you had never heard before. Bright sunlight broke the clouds as his laugh filled the room, your apology quickly following as you stepped on his toes once again.

“I wish you would tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” You whispered softly as your hands rested on the lapels of his shirt, fingers playing with the stiff collar.

“It’s not pretty.” He said, the record skipping at his distraction. “But you are.”

You rolled your eyes at his pitiful attempt to dissuade you from trying to get him to talk but when he kissed your collarbone and worked his way up to your lips your thoughts slipped away. The calluses on his palm tickled your cheek as he cradled it in his hand and you melted in his embrace, letting him take your breath away with those soft lips of his.

“You’re trying to distract me and it’s not going to work.” You murmured when you could finally breathe again.

“It already has.” He chuckled and you opened your eyes to see the walls had disappeared and the warm water of the pond creeping towards your toes. “Swim with me.”

Your hands dropped from his chest as he pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his jeans onto the grassy bank. There was not a cloud in the sky and you didn’t want to bring the clouds back by forcing him to talk so you slipped the straps of your sun dress off your shoulders and let the material drop from your body. You had barely dipped your toe in the water before Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you off your feet.

“Don’t you dare!” You threatened, despite knowing it would be ignored and took a deep breath for what was coming.

Bucky threw himself back into the deep end but instead of being soaked in the crystal clear waters you landed in amongst the soft pillows that littered your bed. Bucky’s deep laugh rolled across you as he untangled himself from the sheets and pulled you into his arms.

“I would never.” He promised between sweet kisses that sent butterflies flapping around in your tummy.

“Yes you would.” You rasped as he nibbled at your collarbone and your throat went dry. “Now enough teasing, I missed you too much.”

He kissed along your bare skin following the natural path of your curves, between the swell of your breasts and the soft skin of your belly until he reached the place you needed his lips most. A sigh of frustration made him chuckle as he kissed your inner thighs and everywhere else except your needy core.

“You’re teasing again, my love.” You said as you grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him.

“I’m taking my time, there’s a difference. Be patient.”

He grabbed the pillow you had thrown and lifted your hips to shove it beneath them. Every nerve ending was sparking with his touch and you couldn’t remember how long you had been holding your breath when his thick metal fingers opened your folds. You swore you nearly passed out when he leisurely drew his tongue through them and up and over your clit, your satisfied moan urging him to do it again.

He knew every which way to bring you pleasure and exactly where your most sensitive spots were, and he was quickly easing you into your first orgasm. Winds whipped around the room, gusts coming and going with your deep breathing, and the sheer curtains that surrounded the bed billowing wildly.

“That’s it, doll, show me how good you feel.”

His warm voice carried on the wind and you buried your head back in the pillow, arching your back and pushing your hips up as the room changed again. Your head was no longer in the clouds but your entire body too, the cottonsoft length of nimbus cradling you perfectly like Bucky’s hands that grasped your bucking hips. His name was the only word you could form as your orgasm ignited and light sparked from the clouds, unbridled pleasure shooting in all directions.

“I missed you too.” Bucky said as he climbed up your body, kissing every inch on his way back to your lips. “Hold on to me.”

You wrapped your arms around him, trusting him inexplicably as he rolled off the cloud, holding you tight as you fell over the edge of bliss with him. Time once again lost all hold on you as your body pressed to his, legs wrapping around his hips, and you the long grass no closer to capturing you in its fields.

“I love you.” He said as he held your eyes with his, his hands positioning you over his manhood and leaving you breathless as he pushed his way in. “I never want to leave.”

“I know, baby.” You grabbed his dark hair as your body was filled with him, and moaned into his neck, clenching your eyes shut. “I wish you could stay here with me forever.”

Raindrops began to fall around you as thoughts of him leaving again crept in and Bucky regretted mentioning it as the large droplets soaked his hair and ran down your face. There were no hiding one's feelings in this place, if you were sad it rained, if you were happy the sun shone, and if you were tormented like he always was on his arrival then it stormed. He hated that he made you sad and desperately wanted to bring the sunshine back to kiss your skin.

“Open your eyes.” He said as he nuzzled you with his nose. “Please.”

You could never deny him so you opened your eyes and gasped as you found the raindrops had turned to rose petals, the deep red cascading colours around you and creating an entirely new landscape. The rolling hills were scarlet and the only space untouched was the lake where it all began, where Bucky’s feet were gently touching down and the water coming to rest over your waist.

“No more tears, doll.” He said as he wiped the lingering streak away from your face. “I’m right here.”

Gentle ripples rolled out across the water as his hips moved against yours and your moans were dampened with his kisses. Needing the leverage you gripped his shoulders, one skin and one metal, and rolled your hips, pushing him even deeper inside you. His chest rumbled with a carnal growl and you were spurred on by the sound, digging your fingers in deeper as your core worked to feel as much of him as you could.

“‘M not gonna last if you keep that up.” He moaned as you sucked at the skin over his pulse, leaving your mark on him.

“I wanna feel you cum in me.” You panted as you increased your pace, chasing your own building release.

The ripples turned to waves as he grabbed your hips and slammed into you with a new fervour and you cried out as his tip rolled your cervix, trying to breach your walls that clamped down around him.

“Fuck.” His eyebrows pinched together as he felt his release building and his lips parted with the fast breaths he was taking. “‘M gonna cum, gorgeous.”

You couldn’t answer as your own release spread across your skin, prickling goosebumps as the knot in your stomach snapped and sent pulses through your core, pussy gripping him so tight he could do nothing but cum instantly, his deep growl echoing across the hillside. You sagged against his chest, hearts pounding rapidly against each other as you both came down from your highs, his cock still buried inside you with the occasional twitch sending an aftershock down your legs.

“Look at the brainwaves, it's like they are from two different people but that is impossible.”

Your head shot up from Bucky’s shoulder and he was instantly alert and looking for danger at your reaction.

“What is it?” He asked, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“You seriously didn’t hear that?”

“The experiment is a success. Wake her up.”

“No, no, no, I don’t want to go.” You begged as you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck as tight as you could. “I don’t want to wake up.”

“Relax, you’re not going anywhere.” He soothed. “It’s me that goes, remember, but I always come back.”

You shook your head, the vivid colours draining from your world until it was a black and white void, no hills, no lake, no house. You looked at Bucky who was noticing the changes and fear crept into his grey eyes, his hold on your tightening before it too began to fade.

“I love you.” You whispered but it was too late, he was gone and the void was taking you next.

Click here for part 2 - Whiskers & Kittens

Taglist: Let me know if you want to join. @sea040561 @slutforsexyseabass

[moscnios]

                                             SEE YOU AGAIN ━ﾞ

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           guido mista           fem!reader

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           angst           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           life is unfair and mista learns that           the hard way after the love of his           life is killed before his very eyes.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           graphic descriptions of death ‘ blood

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           2.1k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           i used his epilogue outfit because the           purple and blue is SUPERIOR !!! and           deserved more screentime. also i don’t           know what it is about these types of           oneshots like i literally have to hold           myself back from breaking my own           heart.

The sky was various shades of pink, purples, blues, and oranges. They all meshed well together, behind the setting sun and pure white clouds.

The tides from the beach came further than they had all day, the small children running from the water while screaming and cheering. Other children crying and throwing tantrums as since the sun was setting the beach was going to close soon. The smell of the sea had filled the nose of a lone tan-skinned man, setting close by the beach.

The man sat the closest table to the beach, looking out into the sea. Unlike he usually did, the man let his short black hair feel the breeze from the sea. His hat, which was different than the one he wore just a year ago, sat on the table just to the side of him.

His hat had a diagonal grid pattern to it with the front shaped like a purple downward arrow. He wore a turtle crop top sweater, similar to his hat both in color and design. On his legs, he wore tiger-striped leather pants where a short-barreled purple revolver sat in his side pocket. On his feet were dark boots that he bought recently.

Sitting in front of him sat two slices of strawberry cake. One slice sat in front of him while the other slice sat across from him on the other side of the table as if he was waiting for someone. In reality, he wasn’t waiting for anyone.

He had done it ever since last year. He would come to this very seaside restaurant, sit in this very table, and watch the slice across from him while he ate the one in front of him in silence. The staff at the restaurant at first worried for him, but now they had become accustomed to the man’s behavior.

A certain waitress even took it upon herself to plate the slices in two plates, a place a rose and candle in the middle of the table in hopes of making the man feel better, but it never worked.

A lone tear fell from his eye, down his cheek, as his head slowly fell below his head.

From inside his head, he could hear a woman’s voice.

“Giorno, protect Mista!”

Those three words had haunted him since the minute they left the mouth of the woman who had said them.

The love of his life.

( y/n ).

The woman who opened his eyes. Though their first meeting was not ideal, she had changed his life.

She had witnessed Mista kill three men in order to save a woman. When the first gunshot sounded, she immediately ran and hide behind a dumpster. She peered over the side of it, watching Mista shoot the three men with perfect accuracy. Her eyes fell onto the woman who was shaking and in bad condition and how she thanked Mista, meaning he helped her, he wasn’t the one hurting her.

But she also had witnessed him being captured by police. She was one of the few people who had believed in him and wanted him to be proven innocent.

Without a second thought, she had run to a familiar man, the same man who helped her off the street and gave her a home, Bruno Bucciarati and she informed him on the incident, pretty much begging him to help use Passione’s influence to help change Mista’s verdict and help him out of his sentence.

Her pleas did not fall upon deaf ears, Bucciarati had done just as she wished, swaying the verdict and giving Mista on a Stand fit for gunman like himself.

Sex Pistols.

Bucciarati had officially introduced the two one another and had informed Mista if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have known about his incident and wouldn’t have been able to sway the verdict in his favor.

( y/n ), the first of Bucciarati’s recruits. She was one of his neighbors and had often gone fishing alongside him and his father when they were younger. His home was like a second home for her, because she hated being home.

After Bucciarati’s father had passed away, he joined Passione and she had followed him in suit, much to his dismay. She proved herself to be an amazing addition with a Stand with an innocent-looking appearance, but it was anything but that. She was the first to officially join his team, helping him recruit the others.

She is known to be very open and accepting, and Bucciarati’s right hand.

She was.

( y/n ) had passed away a year ago, alongside her teammates, Bucciarati, Abbacchio, and Narancia. Her death had devastated the team, rather what was left of the team, Mista included.

She was the person who Mista had bought the extra slice of cake for.

It was known to the entire team how the two felt for one another. It was obvious. No matter how hard they tried to hide it. The lingering glances, the blushing, the “subtle” flirting, the hand holding and small touches that Narancia would catch, their protectiveness of one another, the way she would play in his hair, their dates to the very restaurant he sat in a year later that they tried to disguise as patrol for Stand users. It was even obvious to Giorno, the newcomer.

Even if it was obvious, neither of them were bold enough to process their relationship publicly.

She was the light of his life and she was taken away from him just as fast as the speed of light.

She sacrificed herself as a decoy against Cioccolata, only thinking of the man she had loved with all of her heart and not about herself.

Weakened, as blood had poured out of the sides of his head, he could not run after her. And that’s when she said her last words.

“I love you, Guido Mista.”

He reached out for her. His eyes were wide as he stared at the sight in front of him. It was as if time had slowed itself, as the scene before him happened slow motion. He watched as the disembodied arm, cut deep into the neck of ( y/n ), slicing through.

Tears had formed in his eyes as he watched her stop struggling, her body just...standing for a brief moment to everyone else, but to him, it felt like an eternity. Her head fell off her shoulders, falling onto the ground, rolling toward him slightly.

Her hands trembled at the sight, his dark eyes looking into the now lifeless dull ( e/c ) ones of his partner. Her mouth was agape, allowing the blood left in her head to drain out. The rest of her body finally fell, blood gushing out of her now open neck.

The first yell for her had been from Number Five, tears flowing down the cheeks of the small entity as it cried out for her as if she could hear.

Mista opened his mouth to scream, to shout, to speak, to whisper, but nothing came out. Streams of tears decorated his cheeks as he crawled to ( y/n ), desperately in hopes that despite how bad the situation looked, she would be okay, she would wake up, this was just some sort of dream.

She wasn’t really gone. There was no way. She was too strong to go out like...this.

After Cioccolata was taken care of, Giorno rushed to heal Mista. The tanned man refused. He wanted to die. He couldn’t live in a world without her.

He didn’t want to live in a world without her.

He held her head close to him, finally finding his voice. He cried for her until he couldn’t cry anymore. He screamed for her till his voice went hoarse. Even then, he whispered until he couldn’t anymore until the words no longer came out and it was just tears. Even if all he wanted was for there to be a way for Giorno to bring her back, he knew that wasn’t possibly. If it was, the blonde would have already done it instead of just standing there and letting him mourn.

As he held her in his hands for one last time, the many memories ran through his head. Her smile, her laugh, just everything about her. One memory in particular that appeared over and over was one where she laid next to him on the beach in the sand, looking at the sunset as she confided in him her past and her hopes for the future.

“I don’t want this life anymore. I want out of Passione. I...I want a better life for myself. I want a job that I don’t have to hide anyone. I want one that I can proudly show off and say that I have. Something cool! Like a doctor or a nurse! Maybe even a firefighter or an engineer! Of course, I’ll have to go to university but I’ve been saving up so I think I have enough to go now. I’m just scared to tell Bucciarati, I just want him to be proud of me...but you’ll support me, right?”

“Of course I will. I’ll follow you every step of the day,” He told her.

But her dreams never came true. She never got to go off to university. She never got to hold her degree, not even step foot inside a university classroom. Her life was just truly beginning, but it was taken away from her in a split second.

When it was all over, ( y/n ) was buried next to Bucciarati on the hilltop of a cemetery, separated from the other deceased.

Mista could not attend her funeral. He couldn’t bring himself to watch them put the love of his life in the ground and cover her with dirt. He couldn’t do it without wanting to jump in after her.

On the day of her funeral, he spent at the seaside restaurant that she adored and where they had many dates away from the team. She had only chosen this place because they served the best strawberry cake and she knew that he loved the strawberry cake.

He listened to the waves crash onto the shore, daydreaming about what could have been. Daydreaming of what it would have been like to have been Diavolo and still have her sitting in front of him with that bright smile of hers. But that was never going to happen.

The first few months of her death, he blamed himself for her death. If he was stronger, there would have been no need for her to protect him and use herself as a decoy. The image of her last moments haunted him to this day. Having to see her decapitated was not an easy sight. Watching her face drop, watching her eyes come lifeless and lose their color.

With the help of Giorno, Mista slowly began to recover and returned to himself, a bit more mature than how he was before. Witnesses the deaths of his friends and his lover had contributed to him maturing.

Mista let out a small sigh, losing his appetite. He pulled out the revolver in his pocket, emptying the barrel, six small entities coming out, and jumping onto the slice of strawberry cake, eating away. All except for one, Number Five.

Number Five, known as the crybaby of the bunch, had simply floated in the air next to Mista, watching its user with sad eyes. The sea breeze blew past, sending shivers down the Stand’s small body. As it shivered, a translucent appeared out of the corner of its eye.

Now sitting across the table was a translucent figure of a familiar woman with a bruised neck, looking at the man across the table with eyes full of admiration and love. A gasp left the entity’s mouth.

Mista picked his head up, looking to Number Five, “What’s wrong?”

Number Five pointed across the table, “Y-You don’t see that?”

Mista followed the entity’s pointed figure, finding nothing at the end, “See what? There’s nothing there. You should probably eat, you’re imagining things. ( y/n ) always did say you had quite the imagination compared to the others.”

The translucent figure giggled.

“M-M-Mista―!”

“I wonder if she’s here right now watching me eat at her favorite place. If I had a second chance I’d yell it to the world how much I love her. I just wish she didn’t leave.”

Her hand caressed his cheek slightly, her touch nonexistent. While it hurt she could no longer touch him and have him feel her, she was happy to just be in his presence.

“I never left, Mista. One day...one day I’ll see you again. Hang on until then, okay?”

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

[coffee-randomness]

Trembling

Here, have this medium! reader x Jason Todd  of sorts fic no one asked for but I somehow ended up writing (to cope?). 

Word count: 1431

Warnings: Mentions of death, ghost, violence, cemeteries, fire. 

Tags: @0hmydeku @the-shadow-of-atlantis @insideoflit

The first time you felt the ground tremble under your feet, you were standing on a cemetery. No one else noticed the violent movement of the earth or the new figure standing amongst them, which was weird because it was dressed in a very bright  and beautiful pink dress, contrasting with all the black. Your mother had passed away two days ago yet, you saw her with such vivity it brought tears to your eyes. She seemed solemn, looking down at the coffin that was being covered in dirt, a soft breeze that creep through your skin and rose goosebumps threading through her hair. 

Remembering her laying in a bed and tainting a white cloth red with her coughs as nurses pulled you out of the room for the last time, you shook free from your aunt’s grasp and ran to her like you always did: bringing her flowers so she could tread her hair in the way you loved so much, bringing her drawings of her and your dad holding hands while he sat beside her, bringing her anything you knew would make her smile. 

Your mother smiled at you and whispered about good and evil, of how you were both and she hoped you never had to hold so tightly onto one you forgot about the other. Then she turned away, leaving a kiss on your father’s cheek and you watched a faint glow enveloping her form before she disappeared forever. 

It wasn’t until much later, on your fifteen birthday, that you understood what had happened that afternoon. 

You were surrounded by your friends, admiring the precious cake they bought for you and you felt the chair, the dining table and the whole kitchen trembling so violently you were surprised nothing was falling or breaking. You held onto the edges of the table to keep balance, dizziness setting in your stomach, when you saw Amanda standing in front of you. She was covered in fire, half of her face bruised so bad you held back a scream and the whole room was starting to reek of burned hair and skin. However, no one stopped singing the happy birthday song.

“You need to let me spend the night here,” she said, eyes pleading.

Amanda was holding up the cake looking as happy as ever, yet she was burned almost to the crisp, two opposing figures of the same person converging in your vision. You thought that maybe this was a bad joke, that maybe Jason was hiding in some corner holding up a camera, stifling his laughter behind his palm like he did sometimes. 

“Hey, are you okay?” said the other Amanda, worry leaking into her tone as she shook your shoulder.

The cake was now on the table in front of you, candles melting onto the frost. All of your friends were there, including Jason, who was looking at you with a mix of curiosity and fear, no camera in sight, just the lamenting figure of your worse for wear best friend and her perfectly normal, perfectly healthy counterpart. 

You shook your head, prying your eyes away from the burned down Amanda. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Please, just don’t…” She stopped beside you, her sad expression bringing tears to your eyes. “Know you can avoid this.”

And just like that, she disappeared, the same mysterious halo that covered your mom all those years ago wrapping around her. You were left to celebrate your birthday with a bittersweet taste in your mouth, and when everyone started to go home, you held onto Amanda’s hand and begged her to stay, almost breaking down.  She looked at you funny, still, she complied. 

The next day, as your dad was driving you to school, you passed the ashes of Amanda’s house and you recall her panicked screams and sobs pressed against your shoulder, but she was there and your heart grew content and warm, knowing she was safe and alive. 

Something odd happened the first time Jason kissed you, it had nothing to do with your crazy pulse or the dancing butterflies in your stomach, or with the way his thumb traced small circles in your heating cheeks as he leaned more into you, sighing. He pulled back, licking a smirk off his lips, eyes half-lidded with soft things you knew he would never say out loud, and smiled. You held his shoulders, feeling the mattress of his bed shake, the door opening and closing on its own.

There was a mask over his eyes, an unspoken secret, and a yellow cape hanging from his shoulders. It was brief, but it was there and it made you blink with confusion. 

“Oh shit, I screwed up, I’m so sorry… I didn’t meant to, well of course I did, I just... ah fuck.” Jason stammered, scratching the back of his back and searching for apologies. “Look, I should’ve ask you first, I’m sorry I kissed you.”

You frowned. “Well, I’m not.” 

“What?”

You cupped his face, ignoring the feeling of the leather that was not really there under your palm, and kissed him again. This time, as he pulled back, satisfaction was written all over his face.

“So, um…” He started, looking away from you. “Are we, you know?”

“Whatever you wanna call it, boy wonder,” you smiled.

Jason froze for a second, and from the corner of your eye, you saw Robin sneaking out of his opened window, a soft glow you were starting to get all too familiar with enveloping him. 

“What, do you have a vigilante fantasy now?” he asked, trying to play it cool.

“Hmm,” you pretended to think, “I just think Robin’s neat.”

You shrugged and Jason laughed.

“Well, maybe one day I can introduce you two.” He pulled a strand of hair behind your ear. “Only if you promised not to leave me for him.”

The next time you saw Jason as Robin wasn’t that sweet. He was drenched in blood, beaten black and blue and standing at the end of your bed in the middle of the night, the near earthquake sensation having had woken you up. He said it was unavoidable and that he was sorry for never telling you outright who he was and what he did, and in a trembling whisper you could barely hear, that he loved you. Then he disappeared, the faint glow enveloping his form an odd color you weren’t able to pinpoint, and you cried your eyes out that night. And the ones that followed, with Amanda stroking your back and staying silent, because there was nothing she could say after watching you lost the only boy you had opened your heart to. 

It felt as if the whole world was trembling down constantly. Anger filled your insides and somewhere deep inside of you, you swore to yourself you would never lost anyone like you lost Jason again. And, even though you haven’t dared to step on a cemetery ever since the afternoon your mother was buried, you talked to the disembodied forms that wandered in the night and learned all of the secrets they would whisper, sat in cold gravestones until the sun started to come from behind the clouds. 

By the time the sound of bullets and motorcycles engines filled your dreams as the ground shook, you had already killed thirty men, scums that trafficked and sold and brought nothing to the world but suffering. The Fortune Teller, they called you, though you never quite liked the name until one night you stumbled upon a man wearing a red helmet and heard it straight from his lips. 

“I have a deal for you,” he offered, voice jaded with something electronic that made it unrecognizable, and the ground shook enough to warn you. 

A glimpse was enough to have you throwing away your careful demeanor, a boyish grin and ruffled pitch black hair.

“Jason?” you stuttered, trembling voice filling the empty space of your apartment. 

“Damn, you’re as good as they say,” Red Hood whispered. 

You saw him emerging from green waters, gasping for air, a literal zombie walking through the streets of Gotham. Brushing off death like it was a bad joke.

“Do you remember me?” you asked, hope filling your chest. 

“As if I could ever forget you,” he answered and lifted the helmet so you could see his face. 

Jason whispered your name, soft and filled with so much tenderness your breath trembled. Stepping back, you invited him in without any questions and it felt as if the world were a little more stable now that he was back.  

[heli0s-writes]

V. Twenty Years and a Month*

Summary: You spend four summer weeks with Steve, but some things are too good to be true. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy! 

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

Your first thought when you stir the next morning is that someone is cooking in your apartment. The second thought you have is purely frantic as you realize that no one should be cooking in your apartment, and then finally, that this isn’t your apartment at all.

The comforter is gray under your clenched fingers, not cream, like your own. The bedsheets are too smooth and silky, and the pillow under your head is much too nice to be anything you’ve bought for yourself. In the distance is the quiet hum of a range hood as well as a peppy whistling tune. Your heart begins to slow as you realize… it’s only Steve.

The alarm clock on top of his dresser blinks six-fifteen back at you and you wipe the sleep from your eyes with a traitorous yawn. From the commotion in the kitchen, he wasn’t joking when he said that he only slept four hours a night.

You only hope that you’re somewhat decent as you hear his footsteps coming closer to the bedroom. Should you pretend you’re asleep? Should you run to the restroom? It’s been so long since you’ve woken up next to anyone that you’re grasping at straws.

“Hey…” Steve greets shyly as he steps in, as if he’ll scare you off. “Good morning.”

He’s wearing grey lounge pants and an off-white tee, feet nestled in a pair of green house-slippers. His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, but he is otherwise just as magical as ever. Glowing, almost, as he scratches his beard.

“I, um, made breakfast, if you’d like to join me? Monday’s my day off… so… no rush.”

You nod with a smile, but then point towards the restroom door. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

He dutifully dips into the room and pulls out one from the cabinet before picking up his own as well. You ease yourself from the warmth of his sheets, not quite ready to start the day, but hopeful that you can return to the plush fabric that smells fragrantly like him.

And, you think suddenly, like sex.

You become introverted like a timid maiden, blatantly aware of your nakedness in his bedroom. You slip on his shirt from last night—a faded, speckled grey jersey knit that hangs on you like a dress. You have no idea where your underwear is, so you’re glad Steve’s as large as a door because the hem swings a few inches above your knees, just enough for some modesty.

He’s already gently scrubbing at his teeth by the time you start, and you tilt your head forward so that he can’t see the shyness that’s determinedly crawling up your neck.

He rinses and spits. Then moves to the door but stops.

“I… really like this…” He says quietly, trailing a finger down your spine. You rinse and spit too, standing up and wiping your mouth, catching his downcast eyes in the mirror as they trail over the shape of you through his clothing.

His gaze flickers upward, holding your own eyes steady in the reflection of the glass. Steve clamps his minty fresh teeth over lower his lip and takes a step forward until his knee is situated between the back of your two thighs.

When he presses his body against yours, the sudden shyness that seized you in the bedroom is nowhere to be found as the two of you watch each other in the glass.

“You should have more days off, I think...” You sigh distractedly as his hand reaches under the shirt. Steve smiles into the back of your neck, hums a musical agreeance, squeezes your sides.

 Breakfast is cold by the time you make it to the kitchen, but you eat it anyway, both giggly and alive with newfound energy. Steve pulls your chair so close to his that you end up practically in his lap and nuzzles his nose into your neck any chance he gets.

The sunlight pours in from the opened blinds and cuts across the table and your legs with streaks of bright white. Scents of coffee, bacon, and spices fill the air. Steve licks frosting from your mouth as the two of you share a cinnamon roll and when you gasp at the way his tongue tickles, he promptly takes you back to bed to show you what else his tongue will do to you this morning.

It’s blissful like a dream, your time with him now that you’ve crossed this bridge. He makes love to you ardently, cradles your body like it’s made of glass, and breathes sincerity onto your extremities until all you feel is the warmth of Steve Rogers.

You spend the next few Monday mornings like this: lazy, indulgent, with sleepy eyes and roguish smiles.

The weekdays are spent mostly apart with Steve’s schedule of waking up at three to work out before he starts baking at Cap&Co. His timetable is strict and nothing like your own, so you don’t see him until he gets off work for dinner— when he still makes the meals. You try your best to help, washing the dishes afterward and wiping the counters. He’s usually so tired that he’s asleep before he hits the bed at nine, so you let yourself out and lock the door behind you.

And it’s not like you don’t have your own life. You see Heather for dinner and get together with some other co-workers when they go out for drinks. You also visit your mother—a five-hour drive away, and even slowly begin to add more furniture into your world.

Steve also gifts you a small watercolor kit and four very expensive brushes. When he’s busy at work, you continue practicing your painting. It gets better, slowly, and you branch out to different types of still-life: fruit, knick-knacks, silly arrangements you scrounge together with the items in your house.

Your days are spent looking forward to Sunday evening, when you meet up with Steve early, help him close, and trail him enthusiastically back to his house. The nights are full of fingertips and wine, knees knocking together following the rhythm of unhurried kisses and husky breaths, exultant laughter and pillow talk after the fact. Then, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms, naked as the day you were born.

 Eight-thirty blinks on the clock when you finally settle on your side the third Monday of this divine ritual, tracing the lines of Steve’s face with your eyes. His room is rosy with daylight as the beams catch on his drawn curtains and scatter over the walls.

“Mm…” He hums, smiling, returning the gesture with his own inspection of your face. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly, praying to every known deity that you looked okay, just as you do every morning with him. This new love still blooms butterflies in your stomach. “Just, appreciating you—you’re really handsome.”

He laughs, eyelashes landing on his cheeks before he begins to scrub his beard with his fist, “Thank you.”

“So you agree?” You ask mischievously, “You think you’re really handsome?”

His brow furrows before he pops one eye open and asks carefully, “Mean Girls?”

You shriek with laughter, turning over on your back and holding your sides- encased in another one of his shirt, “Oh my God!” You cry, “You’re perfect!”

He shares a lopsided grin with you, pulling you into his arms that you playfully take a bite of.

“So…” Steve croons, “You don’t just like me for my arms? You also like me for my knowledge of Mean Girls, is that right?”

You nod eagerly along, cheek pressed against his chest, and he gives you the equivalent of a noogie with his chin, the thick hairs on it scrrtch-scrrtching as the sound echoes along your skull.

It’s more of this bliss for the next half hour. Joking, playing, burrowing beneath the covers to stare at each other under diffused light. Your fingers are linked in his, and he’s telling you a story about his childhood when you start to nod off, dreaming about Steve as a boy, catching bus rides all over Brooklyn.

“Bucky and I would get into all sorts of trouble,” his disembodied voice floats over your fuzzy state of mind, “Bucky with the girls, and me… well, with everybody else.”

You chuckle softly as he kisses the top of your head.

“—we’d forgotten the fare—“

Back and forth, like floating on a Caribbean current, staring into the clouds, you sway.

“—and the dog chasing—“

You can almost hear it, a little terrier’s yelp. You’re warm and full of sunshine and affection for him. The young man, troublesome, and the grown man, tender and loving. Both blonde and blue and beaming at you with a smile brighter than any star. A sluggish smile spreads over your lips when Steve tilts his head down to check on you. He presses his nose into your scalp, breathing in the fragrant scent of his shampoo in your hair and a lingering aroma that’s solely yours.

“Love you.”

His eyebrows raise at your sudden admission. The words sound so nonchalant that he thought they might have belonged to someone who’s been in his life more than a month. He checks on you again because he was sure you’d fallen asleep already. And you are, heavy sighs caressing his sternum.

He rolls your words around in his mouth silently, the syllables making his chest swell with every touch of tongue to teeth. It’s new love, and he hasn’t felt a new love in over two decades. The excitement, the unknowing, the thrill of discovering, he’s never thought he’d look forward to ---

A shrill ring jerks you from your slumber and Steve from his musings.

He paws around the bed for his phone. Peggy’s number lights up and he knows it’s Sarah requesting a video chat. They’ve done this at least twice a week, but it’s the first time that you’re here, too. You rub your eyes and scoot to the edge of the bed, making sure that you’re out of sight when Sarah comes on screen.

“Daddy?” Her voice calls when he picks up.

You watch Steve’s profile light up with a grin as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. You smile too as you watch him beaming. “Sweetheart! I’ve missed you so much.”

“I miss you too daddy! I’m about to eat dinner and mummy is setting the table. Today mum, she took me to see this big clock thing and it’s name is Ben! And didja know? Didja know in London, the money is called a quid? Like a squid, daddy!”

Steve chuckles as Sarah rambles on, telling him more about her sightseeing in London. You hear her blow kisses and can’t help but smile because you also miss her.

“Daddy when I come back I’m gonna bring you some squids and—“

Your heart leaps when she asks if you’ll be there at the airport too. Steve sends a quick look your way and you reply with a nod. He reaches over to squeeze your hand before pulling it back.

“—Yay! I’ve been taking lots of pictures I want to show! Look, look! Here’s me and grandma and mummy—“

“Mummy, huh?” Steve asks, “Why, Sarah, you’re a certified Brit now, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m half!” Sarah cries, “Here’s mummy and I put this flower in her hair. Isn’t she the most beautiful person in the world?”

A pang of jealousy hits your chest as soon as Sarah’s words leave her lips. Steve looks on, sadness eroding his formerly happy features. He doesn’t say anything, though, and you know it must be to spare your own feelings as you lie perfectly still only a couple of feet away. It feels like leagues of ocean as you float unsteadily, waiting selfishly for the moment to end. The rocking of the Caribbean is gone. You sink down like Atlantis now.

“Sarah, my dove,” A voice calls on the other line, growing closer. “Sweetheart, could I have the phone?”

“Can you talk to mumma today?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he sits up quickly, back against the headboard. You watch him run his fingers through his hair, patting down the sides that have become disheveled. He’s become fearful like a deer in headlights.

“Hello, Peggy.” He says quietly when the screen shifts. If you weren’t motionless before, you certainly are now. A perfect frozen statue, steely and cold, drained of even your own breath.

“Steven,” she responds, “You look… healthy. I… I’m glad to see you. Have you been well?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

Even her voice sounds beautiful—polished and refined with that fantastic English accent Americans are so easily attracted to. You’ve seen pictures of her, of course, ones that Sarah has shown you all those months ago when the kids did a project over their parents. You only wish you felt the way you did then—appreciative of Peggy Carter’s loveliness in a completely disengaged way, rather than how you do now. Sick. Ill with envy and dread.

“That’s excellent. I just want to, well, I just want to let you know that she’s doing well on our little holiday.” You hear her voice lift a little, tell-tale sign of a smile, and you can only imagine just how radiant her smile is. “She’s very impressive, our girl.” Peggy says, “She’s really grown so much.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees quietly, “She has. I’m glad she’s having fun. Thanks for letting me know, Peg.”

“Of course. Well, I’ll leave you be. Sarah’s already at the table so perhaps we’ll call you later tonight? If that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah... of course.”

A moment passes before they both say their goodbyes carefully and Steve tucks the phone face-down under the blanket next to his thigh. Yes, you know this feeling, you think as you watch him slide his palm over his forehead until the heel of it is the only thing touching his temple. His eyes are closed as he inhales deeply.

You don’t want to be the first to speak, so you wait for him to acknowledge you.

“I’m sorry about that.” He whispers, staring up at the stationary fan overhead.

“No, it’s nothing.” You respond. Your hand moves to take his, but you stop yourself. It suddenly feels wrong, and you feel wrong—like an unwelcome guest in his home, in his life. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“I- I, uh, sorry!” He laughs bitterly, “Don’t know what’s come over me.”

“No, I understand.” You pluck up the courage to hold onto his hand, but it lies heavy over your own.

“I haven’t talked to Peggy in months,” he sighs, “It’s… it’s hard. You know? Being with someone for half your life and… now my life is… this.”

Of course, he doesn’t mean it that way, but you take his statement like a slap to the face because you are the this that he’s talking about—the other, the unknown thing that he’s fumbling with. There’s not a lot for you to compare what he’s feeling to, because your previous relationship is a blip compared to Steve and Peggy’s marriage.

Even though this new relationship is fun and thrilling, full of electricity and warmth, you know that the comfort of being with someone you know, someone you have loved, someone you can fall back to so easily… is just that. So damn easy.

Steve and Peggy have spent nearly two decades together. They know each other just as well as they know themselves. If this recent conversation is the beginning of a reconciliation, then, who are you to stand in the way of their family?

You’re full of concern and self-hatred as you suddenly feel like… like this: like four short weeks, like nothing at all.

“Y-yeah.” You breathe, because it’s all you can do.

 Twenty minutes later you’re heading out the door, much earlier than your usual Mondays together. But the call from London had left a painful thorn in your side and a haze of discomfort over Steve. The two of you stepped around each other when you go to the restroom to shower, bumping into the doorframe and wall on accident. He reached for the curtain first, but you had the same thought, and your hands both retreated. Then you accidentally elbowed him when you tried to take off your shirt and, in his attempt to dodge the rest of your arm, he knocked into the sharp corner of the countertop.

Steve had snapped at you after that—asking you harshly to be more careful with what you’re doing, and it made you physically take a step back, cheeks burning with ire. He was so caught up--merely minutes later after talking to Peggy—that it was all he was thinking about.

“I think I’ll just go.” You said, hastily pulling on your clothes from the night before and sweeping your hair up into a bun.

 He doesn’t even stop you, which makes it all the more painful.

 He doesn’t text or call the next day. Or the day after that. And you conclude that both of those days signify the death of your new relationship. He doesn’t need to tell you it’s over for you to feel it in your heart. You think it’s better like this anyway and begin trying to sweep the memories of him into the back of your mind.

You spend the mornings sleeping in as late as your body will allow you to because any moment awake would be another moment that your mind will wander to Steve. You feel beyond torn, oscillating between accepting the fact that the man has a family and a history, and then growing infuriated that you let yourself fall into his trap in the first place.

What were you expecting, anyway? That he’d marry you? That he’d fall in love with you and you would live happily ever after in his cozy Four-Square sanctuary? You wish you had never said yes to him, never gone to the bakery, never given him your number, never kissed him or made love to him. Your body aches to think of him.

Less than thirty days ago, Steve Rogers was the absolute least of your worries. And now, you can only blame yourself.

You cry at the end of your jogs and into your bowls of oatmeal. You throw the watercolors against the wall. You stare angrily at the black hole of your phone screen. Your eyes burn into themselves any time you catch your reflection in the mirror.

“Idiot.” You chastise yourself to the emptiness of your apartment. “You goddamn idiot.”

--

On the phone, Bucky Barnes rolls his eyes and gestures incredulously to his girlfriend. Sometimes he can’t believe that Steve is capable of being so senseless.

“Rogers, you goddamn idiot!”

“I’m serious, Bucky.” Steve retorts, “It’s—you know it’s more complicated than that.”

Bucky scoffs loudly and disapprovingly, “I don’t think it is, man. Run it through for me again. C’mon—from the top.”

Steve sighs loudly and leans back on the couch, craning his neck to the ceiling as he cradles the phone against his ear. “For the last month, I’ve—“  

“You’ve been seeing the teacher—someone you’ve pined after for like, a year.”

“Am I telling this? Or are you?”

Bucky snorts. “Go on, then.”

“We’ve been seeing each other the last four weeks—it’s been wonderful. She’s yeah, she’s exactly how I thought she’d be.” Steve mumbles almost apologetically, “Sweet. Kind. Hilarious. Beautiful… Listens to my shit. Takes me up on my painting lessons.”

“Good in bed.” Bucky supplies.

“Jesus, Buck.”

“Wasn’t she?”

“Jesus—yes, fine.” He groans forcefully, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. “But—I don’t know. Peggy’s been calling me again. She’s been… talking to me. A lot.”

“A lot being… two times.”

“Yes, but… God, Bucky. We talked for hours yesterday and—“

“And you’re convinced it’ll just snap back together like it used to be?”

“We were together for almost twenty years! That’s the equivalent of some people’s lifetimes. We have a daughter, Buck. Sarah wants her mother in her life. And Peggy is her mother.” A quiet passing of your name goes through the receiver—so softly Bucky almost misses it. Steve sounds like he’s grieving when he says it, “She’s so young— And she doesn’t even want kids, Buck. How can that work? I already have one.”

“Hey, man.” Bucky cuts him off, “Twenty years is somebody’s lifetime, sure. But so is four weeks. You get me?”

Steve doesn’t.

“Buddy, you called me every night for almost eight months. You spent days on my couch in shambles—you lost fifteen pounds! I still can’t look at Peggy. A lifetime is… fucking nothing to me. Nothing when I’m looking at you crying on the floor.”

The venom in Bucky’s voice stings Steve even from hundreds of miles away. He remembers those days—when Peggy first started pulling away from him, from Sarah, and he felt his heart begin to chip away until it crumbled all over the divorce papers as they finally slipped under his nose.

“You know Peggy’s only there when it’s convenient for her. You two brought an entire person into the world and she still left. This… this isn’t real, man.”

“But what if it is?”

“What if it is?” Bucky asks back, “What if what you already have is real, too? I know you think time and security is reassuring, but nothing about Peggy reassures me. I’d rather you raise Sarah on your own than get back together with Peggy and watch her leave for weeks at a time again. Did she say she’s going to quit her job?”

“No.” Steve admits, that’s the one thing they haven’t reached yet when they talk on the phone late into the night. They’ve reminisced about all sorts of things--- high school, their first dates, their wedding, Sarah’s birth, her interests, and even future ruminations—what she might be when she grows up. But not once did Peggy bring up the topic of her career as they discussed their broken little family. And Steve had been too scared to prod—too complacent in just enjoying the relief of her familiar voice, her laughter, like falling backwards into his own bed at the end of the day.

“If that wasn’t her first topic of discussion,” Bucky cuts through his thoughts, “Then it’s not one at all.”

Steve snatches his hair in frustration because Bucky’s words on a side not invested in Peggy’s happiness or comfort, rings with deafening truth.

“And it wasn’t just a month, Stevie—you’ve seen your new girl for a year. And you’ve seen her through Sarah. Throw that not wanting kids thing out the window, pal. You said it yourself—you already got one, and they already know each other. What? You want another baby?”

“No! God, I don’t think so.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. Rogers, I swear to God—don’t be a sentimental idiot.” Bucky huffs angrily, “Twenty years…” He sounds like he’s rolling his eyes, “Those fucking years crushed you. Last month, man. I haven’t heard you that happy in almost ten years. If you care so much about numbers, think about that some, you dumbass.”

 Steve hangs up minutes later when Bucky grows even more frustrated with him and groans loudly as he stares at his screen of recent calls. Bucky. Bucky. The bakery. Peggy. Peggy. Peggy. You. Bucky. You.

And then the trend is--- You. You. You. Peggy. You. You. You. You.

You.

He throws his head back once more. Steve Rogers hates himself. He hates himself so much. It’s been three days since he’s talked to you, and he knows, in his goddamn bones, he knows it’s wrong. He’s a coward. And he’s desperately clinging onto some hope that maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow and his whole life will be figured out and nothing will hurt anyone anymore. Steve shuts his eyes with a wretched whimper.

He wants what’s best for Sarah, which is her mother. The possibility of having his family back to one semi-chipped but almost-perfect piece is killing him, because that’s all he’s ever wanted.

But, it’s made him a selfish fucking asshole, he thinks. Because he convinced a perfectly happy woman to date him, and then ghosts her after four sublime weeks, right after she says that she loves him. And maybe it would have been forgivable if she was just any random woman.

But she’s not.

She’s the kind of woman who loves his daughter so much she spends twenty extra minutes at every parent-teacher conference to tell him as much detail as possible about her. The kind of woman who shares her lunch with her. Who advises him at every arbitrary panic-induced question he flings out about her. Who gifts his daughter her own camera so she can have fun on vacation. Who coaxes her out to apologize to him—something he can never do on his own.

She’s the kind of woman who conceded to quietly slip out of his life when he turned his back on her. Because she understands that he loves his daughter.

Because she loves his daughter too.

And he’s not even brave enough to apologize. Or say goodbye. Or do anything.

 Steve’s fists land on the coffee table with a slam as lurches forward.

He needs to do something to get his mind off all this—even for a few minutes, because any more of it and he might just lose it. He clambers to the kitchen and starts tearing out cleaning supplies because that’s the kind of stupid domesticated shit that he does when he’s distressed—cleaning. Like a fucking giant, idiot Roomba.

He sprays and scrubs. Mops and vacuums. Polishes and dusts and scours every single surface of his house for any single speck of grime that he can wipe out of his sight. The more he cleans, the more he imagines doing it to his own conscience because it is so saturated with filth that he can hardly stand it. He doesn’t even bother to use gloves because maybe the solutions will simply eat the flesh of his hands right off because he fucking deserves that, too.

 In the third hour of punishing himself, Steve ends up in the kitchen—the last room. Both his and Sarah’s bedrooms are spotless. The spare bedroom that he’s transformed into a study is immaculate, and he’s even rearranged the bookshelves so he can dust everything behind them. He’s cleaned out the garage, too, Jesus Christ Almighty, he’s thrown away so much crap that he’s been stupidly hoarding—at least three old mixers with broken paddles and frayed wires. The two bathrooms are bleached so brightly that they’re nearly blinding. The dining room looks like it’s been pulled straight out of an IKEA magazine.

He gets to work on the stovetop and the sink, spraying the ever-loving crap out of it before he grabs the rags from out underneath the cabinet. Then he moves objects off the bar counter, putting Sarah’s favorite potted plant on another surface and reaching for the next when something catches his eye.

Steve leans forward curiously as he finds a little plastic rectangle that had been hidden behind the plant’s pot, sprinkled lightly with soil. His chest seizes with guilt. It feels like it could collapse right into his guts.

Inside the tiny plastic rectangle between his fingers, there you are. Wearing that yellow summer dress with the flutter sleeves that he held onto so desperately. You’re sitting on your knees, leaning back and putting your weight on your hands as you grin fondly at Sarah.

And at him, now, four weeks later, after he’s broken your heart.

 Steve doesn’t even bother washing his slightly burning hands as he drops the rags and runs back to the couch where he left his phone.

On the fourth ring, Peggy picks up—voice dazed and crackly as she breathes out an unsteady “Hello?”

“Are you quitting your job?” Steve says with as much confidence as he can.

“Steven? Goodness—what time---“

“Are you quitting your job?” He demands before she can finish.

“What?” He hears her rousing, pillows and sheets sliding around as she tries to catch onto his train of thought.

“Are you quitting your job, yes or no.”

“Steven what are you—I—what?”

“Why have you been calling me? Why have you been talking to me?” The longer he speaks, the louder his voice becomes, and the more assertive he grows as he stands next to the coffee table, absently nudging it with his shin. “This friendliness—it’s confusing Peggy. Because you know that what I want-- more than anything-- is for us to be a family again.”

Steve pauses, listening to see if she’s still there before he asks calmly, even though he feels like he could burst apart and erupt into tears following this mission. “So I need you to tell me, right now. Are you quitting your job?”

And she knows that he doesn’t mean for her to not be employed at all and live as a stay-at-home mother, but that he needs her with him, if this is to work. He needs her with Sarah. Stateside, at least. Home for more than a couple weekends a month, at least.

“No,” she whispers, after a silence, “No, Steven. I won’t be quitting my job. It’s my career—you know that. It’s my--”

“Goddamn it, Peg!” He cries, “What the hell has this been, huh? You just yankin’ my chain around? Watching me fall apart again?” Steve’s voice catches in his throat as it fizzles out. Tears spill from his eyes and he falls backwards onto the couch, placing his throbbing head in his hand. He tries to speak, but his voice only comes out as a raspy whisper, choked by a sob that shakes his whole body.

“You know I’d do anything for her.” He weeps. “You know that. I’d let you tear me apart again.”

Six hours ahead of his time, Peggy sighs deeply into the phone. “I’m sorry, Steven.” She says, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s… hard for both of us. Please believe me… I’m sorry.” There’s a short breath being taken, as if Peggy would continue, perhaps explaining herself or continuing to apologize, but Steve’s had enough. His heart hurts so much he can hardly breathe.

Steve shakes his head, as if she can see it four thousand miles across the Atlantic, “Goodbye, Peggy.”

 It’s eleven-thirty. He washes his hands and face in the immaculate guest sink and stares at himself unsteadily as he takes deep breaths. He should go to bed because he needs to wake up early tomorrow. But instead, he stares at his phone again.

The list of recent calls stares back at him. Peggy. Bucky. Bucky. The bakery. Peggy. Peggy. Peggy. You.

He hits the last number as time stops completely. He runs through every possible scenario in his head. What is there to say that could remedy this situation? How does he even begin to apologize for being such a selfish coward? Steve clutches onto your polaroid picture like a lifeline.

It goes to voicemail.

He tries again, only to receive the same automated tone— the phone doesn’t even ring. Have you blocked him? Of course, thinks, he deserves it.

He grabs his keys from the table and slams the door on the way out, chewing viciously on his lip the entire drive to your apartment complex. He even angrily punches the power button to turn off the radio because he’s punishing himself with silence. It’s only fair.

It’s dark and crickets chirp as he plods up the steps, reaching your door with the curling numbers hanging over mahogany paint.

Steve knocks.

Nothing.

He tries again. Nothing.

First, he thinks, it might be for the best. Then, because he’s an overreaching asshole, his mind leaps over into the conclusion that you might be in trouble. He rushes down the steps, as quietly as possible because it is midnight and normal people are asleep—not stalking their girlfriends. Steve winces at the thought. Perhaps ex-girlfriend is more fitting.

He whirls around the parking lot for any sign of your car, air whipping through his beard and hair as he searches frantically. It’s not in your usual spot, and for the life of him, he can’t find it anywhere.

Steve’s heart pounds. It’s midnight. Other than his house, where the hell could you go?

Defeatedly, he trudges back to his car where the quiet rumble of the engine rocks his body gently. There are a million and one thoughts racing through his mind. But he knows now, none of them are true other than the fact that you’re ignoring him. And he deserves it. Goddamn, does he deserve it.

He sighs and picks up his phone again. As expected, it cuts off before it even rings.

“Hey.” Steve sighs after the beep, “Hey. I—I’m so sorry.” He scrubs his beard and lays his head against the top of the steering wheel, letting the ridges press into his face.

“I know there’s nothing I can say that will actually express just how sorry I am. I... I really messed this up. I messed it all up, honey.”

He’s sniffling shamelessly at this point, letting the tears blur his vision as he stars blankly to the empty passenger seat and out the window. The streetlights look like fireflies. The sky an inky black sea staring down at him. Infinite twinkling eyes, asking what he’ll do next.

“If you’ll ever talk to me again—which I hope you will, please know... I want to make this better. Any way I can, I will.”

And then he pulls it out—the confession he’d been holding on to as soon as he heard you half-mutter it in your sleep. It’s desperate. It’s perhaps not the right time. But he blurts it anyway.

“I love you. I know how that sounds. I... just.. It's true. Please call me back when you’re ready.”

He uses when and not if because maybe the connotation will persuade you into calling him back sooner. He doesn’t want if. He wants when. He wants now.

Steve lingers in the car a few more minutes after he hangs up, holding as tightly as he can to the far-fetched hope that you’ll pull up in the empty space beside him. He thinks he’d jump out of the window if he could and fall to his knees. He’d beg. He’d cry and beg until both of his kneecaps bleed.

It would be another week before you hear his message. It would be even longer for you to actually listen to it.

-

It’s eight when you wake up. There is a tray of breakfast on the vanity to your right and the big gold mirror stares your reflection right back. Pink eyes, a little blue underneath, much better than last Monday, at least.

Your mother had let you stay with her when you showed up Wednesday night. She didn’t ask any questions and has been consistently accommodating by cooking, letting you have your space, watching movies with you in silence, and rubbing your back when you suddenly burst into tears. You return her kindness by picking up groceries, doing the dishes, watering the plants, anything that allows you to stay busy.

It’s been nice. Peaceful and dumbly idyllic back home. Old neighbors wave to you and remind you of when you used to run around under the sprinklers as a child. Your brother even comes by with his wife and daughter and at the sight of her little pudgy 6-year-old cheeks you almost crumble right there in the front yard.

They ask you what’s wrong. You lie and say you just really love children. Your brother knows you better than that, but he doesn’t say anything more of it.

His daughter only reminds you that teacher workdays begin in two days, then it’s back to school the following week. You’re absolutely not ready because you know you’ll see Sarah’s sandy blonde head and pudgy cheeks. You’ll see her father’s blue eyes and beautiful lashes in the carline. You’ll see the weeks you’ve spent with him, reflecting back at you.

Next Chapter

[unwiltingblossom]

The Next Dimension Over (Chapter Twenty-three)

Before now, it would have only been a matter of time before she tired out her opponent, or at least figured out what trick he was using. Now...she didn't have that kind of time.

When Goku and Krillin are sent to find Roshi a ‘Pichi Pichi girl’, a woman falling through the sky interferes with the destiny that had previously been laid out for them. When Sakura’s strength wavers at a critical moment, she falls through dimensions and the destiny she worked so hard for vanishes into dreams. Things get worse from there. 

She frowned, staring at the trees again. It still didn't make very much sense: if he was faking his weakness, what had been the point? Demoralizing her? If that was the case, he wasn't as good as he thought he was: she wasn't about to be scared off so easily. Or...he was so strong that it didn't matter. If it was the last, she couldn't afford to hold back when Goku was a potential hostage. "Goku. Don't move." She kicked off of the ground, flickering into the trees. When she'd moved, she hadn't been sure where her enemy was. As soon as she appeared in the trees, though, the figure of her attacker stumbled, and jumped away through the trees. Again, despite surviving her previous attack, he moved at the speed of an inexperienced genin. Barely faster than a civilian, in fact. It took only hopping across two branches to catch up to him. Chakra gathered in her fist, and she crashed down on him. Once again, he put up no sign of resistance, slamming into the ground and then lying still. She hesitated for a few moments, waiting this time for a clone to dispel. Nothing happened. Just as she turned to leave, a shiruken flew at her from another point in the forest. She knocked the weapon away with a kunai, and immediately spun back toward the prone form of the ninja on the ground. ...It remained. "What...?" "You may as well give up now!" The voice cackled through the trees in the distance. "No matter how many times you defeat me, I'll simply rise again stronger! I have complete control of this floor!" A leaf split, and she twisted backward at the last moment just to evade a dart of some sort from the left, far from where the last shiruken (and voice) had come. Two kunai struck the ground, only barely missing her position, from the proper direction. "Your only choice is to run or to die!" Cackling rang across the air, echoing off of what seemed to be every surface of the floor. She clasped her hands together and quickly spiked her chakra. "Release!" ...Nothing. She didn't even feel any resistance or intruder on her network at all, let alone something that would have seized it in a genjutsu. Stone grinding against stone rang throughout the air, followed by an alarmed shout from Goku. She raced across the grass, knocking away a rain of shiruken as she went. "Goku!" When she broke free of the trees again, Goku stood where he had when she left, looking down at the stairs they'd come from. She followed his gaze...and found the top-most stair had elongated, blocking off the passage to the lower floor. The voice from the other floors suddenly spoke up. "You should have taken the opportunity to flee that you were given. Now, you've run out of chances!" High above on the ceiling trap doors fell open, and a hail of large black shapes fell to the ground. One crashed to the ground between she and Goku. He jumped out of the way in the opposite direction she moved. Whiteish-blue smoke shout out in all directions on impact. Around them, the other packages fell to the ground as well, spreading the slow-moving cloud across the ground as they went. Wisps of smoke curled up her legs to her thighs, and engulfed most of Goku's body. Laughter rang out across the room once again. "Now that this floor has been sealed, you'll have no choice but to breathe in Red Ribbon Army's special toxin! Consider it mercy that your death will be less painful than what I would have given you!" She grit her teeth. If this were her dimension, if this were home, it would be easy to figure out what poison they were using, and then find an antidote to it. Here, even if she had the resources available to make one, she wouldn't know anything about the poison or the antidote. It wasn't likely they could make something that mitotic regeneration couldn't handle. Even if she shared her regenerative abilities with Goku, though...his body was so small that he might die before she could help him. "This is cheating!" Goku shouted, waving off the smoke...causing it to stir up into his face all the more. "Fool! A true ninja uses any tactic to defeat his enemies! With my antidote, I am immune to this toxin, but the two of you will die no matter what you attempt to do!" Laughter again seemed to ring from every direction. "Truly, I am invincible!" Goku coughed, and then his expression brightened. "I know!" That strange tail of his lifted into the air, and then began to spin behind him in a manner much like the thing on Roshi's strange boat had done. The gas surrounding them began to dispel, chased away to the edge of the wall. "And this! Ha!" He pulled out his red staff again, and begun to spin it in front of him. Clicks echoed through the room, and more panels opened above, dropping two more volleys of the toxin bombs. "How long can you keep up your little trick before you tire?" She leaped forward and knocked away a wave of kunai aimed at the small boy. The voice from the trees chimed in with the other disembodied voice. "And how will you defend yourself while you try to breathe?" ...Of course. Before now, it would have only been a matter of time before she tired out her opponent, or at least figured out what trick he was using. Now...she didn't have that kind of time. Even if she used shadow clones so that she could defend Goku from attacks while she fought the ninja, there was no telling how long Goku's endurance could last. Or how much more of the toxin they could fill the room with. Damn... If she collapsed the floor, she'd take the support pillars with it. There was a chance the rest of the tower would fall on their heads after she did. Whether or not they could survive it, there were multiple reasons not to collapse the tower into pieces before they were done searching it. That really only left one good option. She turned on her heel and charged toward the outer wall of the tower. Using her momentum and a spike of chakra, she jumped into the air and swung her leg at the red-stone wall. "Try...this! Chyah!" The sturdy barrier exploded outward in a rain of jagged shards and oddly shaped pebbles, and the poisonous smoke billowed outward into the freezing air. No matter how much the army tried to fill the room with, as long as they stood near this side of the tower, they wouldn't be in very much danger. "Now..." She turned back toward the forest, gripping her hand into a fist. "Where were we? Being good ninja? I guess I should start by knocking down all the trees you're using to hide." Goku jumped backward as another set of kunai shot at him. "Hey! Don't attack me, that's not fair!" "Don't you get it?" The voice yelled out...from a man standing not far away in a tree, apparently attempting to hide behind it. Poorly. "You've only managed to prolong your death, choosing a far more painful option than the one I mercifully gave you!" So far...he'd refused to make head-on attacks, or even truly dangerous ones. Every time she found him (easily), she defeated him without effort. Every time, he seemed unskilled. Yet, he kept reappearing. Perhaps she could have believed he had a strange, dangerous skill that needed to be overcome. The ceiling trap, however, led her to believe something else entirely. Well, that, and his comment to Goku. Hiding behind his tricks and traps, he was little more than an especially arrogant genin. Given his lack of jutsu other than whatever he was using to project himself, chuunin seemed too generous. She jumped to the tree where he hid, and punched through its trunk. As she expected, the person in it simply flailed and screamed as it fell, rather than leaping out of danger. As he crashed to the ground, she pounced on him. Unsurprisingly, the moment she knocked that one unconscious, she saw him sprinting away in the distance. Even less of a surprise: he made no actual attempt to deflect the kunai she threw, and collapsed with a pained shout. "That looks like it hurts." She eyed the area, searching for the next sign of movement. "How long do you want me to keep this up?" For a few moments, the only sound that passed through the room was the howling wind from the open wall. Finally, the purple clad ninja appeared in front of her, hands outstretched. "Okay, okay! I give! If you stop...I-I'll take you to this tower's secret! If you kill me, you'll never be able to find it!" "Secret?" Goku ran up to where she stood, expression bright and interested. She could hardly blame him...knowing him, having to stand and wait on the sidelines so long without even a real battle to watch had to be boring. A secret probably sounded incredibly exciting. More importantly, there was the slight possibility the 'secret' might be the dragonball. Maybe, If they had it. She crossed her arms. "Why should we believe you?" "W-well...what's the harm? If I'm lying, surely you'll kill me. And the two of you are so strong, you've proven I can't hurt you!" If she weren't so confident of his ineptitude, she'd be concerned enough of the obvious trap to ignore his offer. But...there was just enough chance that the secret was real, despite the trap, to humor his attempt anyway. So far, every single attempt he'd made on their lives wasn't any real danger, anyway. At least if they left the floor it was unlikely he could pull off his trick so easily anymore. Whatever it was, the way the floor was structured to block off vision and confuse people inside it no doubt played a large part. She smiled, and gestured toward the upper stairs. "Well in that case, I'm sure there's no reason to disbelieve you at all." Goku glanced up at her briefly, and then nodded. "Yeah, I wanna see what this secret is, too!" "Well...just wait." The man smiled and clasped his hands together, before starting toward the stairs. "You won't believe your eyes." ...So definitely a trap. When they climbed the stairs, the roof that had shut to seal them in slid open easily (as accommodating as any military would behave toward a traitor). As she'd guessed, the floor above looked like the others before, excluding the one they'd just left. Dark, empty, stone. In the distance, a tall cell stood, locked tightly shut. It was a bit of a surprise to her that he didn't immediately run over there and release whatever beast they had trapped inside. Instead, he walked the other direction, gesturing for them to follow. "It's just over here. There's a secret panel on this wall, you'd never find it if you didn't know where to look." She squinted at his back as they walked. Could it be he planned to distract them with something while he quietly opened the doors behind them? Surely not. "Right here." He pointed at the wall. Goku ran up to it and reached up to place his hand against it, curious. She stayed in place, a step behind Goku, watching the would-be ninja instead. He shook his head when Goku looked up at him in confusion. "No, it's not there. It's here." He shoved a slightly misaligned brick into the wall nearby. It really wasn't all that well hidden, for an undetectable panel. Or even switch, really. When the stone shifted in, it knocked its neighbor violently out into the sky. Destabilized, the rest of that section of the wall crumbled and collapsed in front of them, plummeting to the snow below. She turned just in time to see the oversized dead-weight slam into them.

[blueroseblaze]

Wreck: Chapter 4

It was dark inside your head. You were unable to see anything or make out any shapes. But you could hear. You could hear the sounds of exploding glass, of metal being torn through like wet paper, the screech of rubber tires, the shrieks of hell beasts resonating in your head. The deafening noise didn’t cease no matter how much you prayed for it to. No matter how much you begged your brain to turn it off. The noises just kept getting louder and louder, pounding against the inside of your skull, overwhelming your other senses, mixing and merging into a stew of commotion.

It became too much. And the growing cacophony morphed into an explosive crescendo, shocking you out of your sleep. Your disoriented senses rattled your thoughts. You clawed at your bed, hoping to anchor yourself to reality as your panic continued.

Your breathing was ragged, uneven, and shallow. Your lungs burned and the spasm of your muscles caused you still broken ribs to flex within your chest. The soreness in your torso was amplified with your breath. You reached your free hand to your chest trying to sooth your breathing and rapid heartbeat. But little could be done about the pain in your chest. You panic caused your breath to quicken, which put more stress on your injured ribs, which then sent pain throughout your torso, causing tears to well up in your eyes and for your breath to quicken again to compensate for the pain.

Your eyes darted around the room seeing that it was empty. You were alone, scared, and in pain. You couldn’t fight the tears running down your cheeks or the wheezes and gasps that escaped your lips. Your hand left your chest and gripped the safety rail on your bed, gripping tightly as you doubled over in pain. You tried to calm you breathing, but the pain only caused your lungs to keep spasming. Your eyes shut tightly as more tears welled up, ready to spill all over your hospital gown.

You barely registered the hands that gripped your shoulders, and the disembodied voice calling your name.

“(Y/N)! You’re okay! I’m here calm down! It’s okay.”

Your hurt lungs still spasmed as tears and sweat dripped down your face. Your hand still gripped the hospital bed, no doubt turning you knuckles white in the process. You tried to focus on the voice but found it difficult with the pain and fear running throughout you system.

“Just try to breath slow. In and out, nice and deep. I’m right here.”

You tried following the voice’s instruction, pausing your erratic gasps, holding in your breath. Your lungs burned with the lack of oxygen. They screamed for you to open them up, and you did. You sucked in a big gulp of air, your lungs expanding, pushing against your damaged ribs. But the soreness was counteracted by the soothing of a steady flow of air into your body. Then you exhaled, the air in your lungs spilling out around you. You repeated this and though shaky, your breaths started to even out.

Loudly, you sucked in and let out breath after breath, your eyes still closed tight. You felt an arm wrap around your form, and a gentle hand rest against the back of your head, pulling you close. Your forehead pressed against something soft and warm. Something familiar. You inhaled a comforting scent as your breathing finally returned to normal, but it didn’t stop a few more hiccups to escape your throat and for more tears to run down your cheeks.

The hand on the back of your head began to slowly stroke through your hair, gently untangling knots and pushing stray strands away from your face. Without thinking you released your grip on the bed took your free arm and wrapped it around the figure that was embracing you. Your hand gripped tight to the back of their shirt as you kept listening to their soothing words.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here. Just breathe, nice and slow. Don’t hurt yourself.”

It was then did you realize just how clouded your thoughts had become, as you only then recognized the voice.

“N-Nero?” you stuttered, raising your head and opening your eyes. You looked up at him, pulling your head away from his chest to get a better look.

“I… I thought you had left,” you said, clearly remembering him leaving that morning to check on Nico.

“I did, but I came back. I knew I couldn’t leave you alone here,” he said, “I was coming down the hall when I heard your scream and when I walked in it looked like you were having a panic attack, and you looked like you were in pain. Are you okay?”

You sighed deeply, wincing at the pain in your chest, but you nodded though you were still quite unsure.

“I don’t know. I think I had a bad dream,” you explained, “I just woke up and I couldn’t breath and when I tried it hurt.”

“Well you’re awake now, you’re safe,” he said, “I just wish I had reached you sooner.”

You smiled at him, thankful for his concern. You then felt the pressure in your skull and reached for your temple, rubbing and applying pressure as you flinched in discomfort.

“Oh, God, my head,” you hissed.

“Don’t move, I’ll get you some water,” he said as he stood from your bed and walked into the bathroom. You leaned back into your bed, closing your eyes and letting your head loll to the side, eyes closed. You breathed deeply and slowly. Having two conflicting pains in your body at once took a toll on you.

Nero returned with a paper cup filled with cold water. You reached for it, but his hand lingered, helping you guide the cup to you lips. You drank the water vigorously, relishing how it cured your parched throat and soothed your chapped lips. Nero took the cup once you were done, setting it on the bedside table.

“So, you said you had a bad dream,” Nero recounted as he took a seat on the couch, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You leaned your head back against the pillows, eyes shut, and shoulders relaxed.

“There really nothing to talk about,” you said, “It was mostly dark and all I could hear was demons and… what sounded like scrapping metal. Maybe some glass breaking. But it was all dark, so I don’t know.”

Nero hummed in acknowledgment and you could sense his frustration at not being able to really help you.

“Anything else?” he asked.

You winced as your head thrummed and you remembered waking up. Balancing on that line between reality and your subconscious when it felt like someone plucked it like a guitar string. You described this to Nero, how the noises just kept building and building until you couldn’t take it anymore. How waking up was like having one of those falling dreams, except you didn’t realize you were awake at first.

You had been having dreams and thoughts like that more often since you woke up. A car horn outside would cause you to flinch or if a car chase scene was playing on the TV you would ask Nero to switch it to something else.

You felt Nero’s eyes on you, and you could sense the sadness in his voice

“I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do,” he said sadly, “All I can really do is sit here twiddling my thumbs and reading about the top ten sex positions that will blow his mind.”

You smiled and snorted a little, “You being here is enough.”

Despite everything, you were so thankful Nero was sticking by you. It would have been much easier for him to just stay at home and periodically checkup on you, but he decided to endure sleeping on a hard hospital couch so you wouldn’t be alone at night. He barley left your side even though for the most part you were asleep or on pain meds making you a subpar conversationalist. When you were awake, he would entertain you the best he could. He would read to you from the magazines he found and would joke with you about whatever was on the TV. You were so happy to have a friend as supportive and caring as Nero in your life. You don’t know what you would do without him.

Despite the aloof, and too cool attitude he wore, Nero was the sweetest man you had ever met. He pretended not to, but he cared deeply for everyone. You remembered when you both started to become friends, and you joined him and Nico on their jobs. He would order you to stay in the van while he went out and took care of demons and every time you got even a little bit hurt, he would patch you up and make sure you were okay. It wasn’t until you had saved his ass when a particularly powerful demon got the better of him and you laid it to waste that he finally relented and admitted you could take care of yourself.  

You opened your eyes a bit and noticed that he was looking right at you. You felt a heat crawl up your cheeks as you looked back at him. He had taken off his jacket and was only wearing his dark red sweater which hugged his arms nicely. You had to keep yourself from staring. Nero was handsome, no doubt about it. You adverted your gaze.

Before your thoughts could turn inappropriate, you both turned your attention to the door as it swung open.

A nurse took half step in, hand still on the door handle and looked to Nero.

“Nero, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah?”

“There’s a young woman on the phone for you,” she explained.

Nero stood from the couch and lightly patted you on you uninjured shoulder and gave you a quick ‘be right back’. Your eyes followed him as he side stepped around the nurse and disappeared into the hallway.

The nurse turned her attention to you and stepped inside the room. In her hand she held a small paper cup that rattled as she walked, no doubt your pain medicine and antibiotics you’d been prescribed. She handed you the cup and some water before wishing you well and leaving the room with a smile.  

You sighed and looked down at your casted arm, wiggling your free fingers and gripping the air, same with your toes. You had been testing your own mobility the past few days, you barley left you bed and the very few times you did it was with assistance. You had little reason to leave your bed, so you often opted to stay in it, although it did cause your ass to go numb a couple times and the muscles in your back to tingle with inactivity. Your leg cast reached all the way up to your mid-thigh meaning that turning over in your bed to a new position was not an option.

You head was still throbbing as the medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You closed your eyes again, debating if whether or not you wanted to try and sleep it off. Sleep sounded perfect but you were hesitant. The idea of having another nightmare, waking up not being able to breathe and your whole body hurting made you rethink that idea.

You don’t now how long it was but eventually Nero returned. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back down near you. You opened your eyes and saw the expression on his face. It was a mix of confused, conflicted and maybe even a little guilty.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied hastily with a smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He seemed to just brush off your question and you decided not to press him on it. He was under just as much stress as you were. You stayed quiet not really sure what to say.

“Were you able to talk to Nico?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

Nero sighed, “She’s doing fine, she’s been fixing up the van. She’s… really torn up about what happened.”

You frowned. It hurt your heart knowing she was probably beating herself up about this whole thing. Even though she had no control over the situation, and nothing was her fault. You wished she was here, if for nothing else then to just tell her that you didn’t blame her for anything. Nico was one of your best friends, the idea of her beating herself up over this hurts your heart.

“Where is she?” you asked.

“She’s still working in the shop. I was able to convince her to shower and get some sleep, but she didn’t want to come until she fixed the van. She’s going to come by when you’re ready to leave, she’s going to pick us up.”

“That’s good,” you said in the middle of a yawn, you didn’t realize how much your headache and nightmare took out of you, “As long as she’s taking care of herself.”

“Yeah,” Nero said, lowering his voice.

“I’m tired,” you said hoarsely after a long pause.

“Then you should sleep,” Nero suggested.

“I know, but… I’m kinda scared to,” you admitted.

Your headache had dissipated somewhat, the intense throbbing had slowed to a dull ache as the meds kicked in. The pills the nurses gave you always made you drowsy and there was little to do than to sleep it off.

Nero was silent for a moment as he realized what you meant. He stood from the couch and stepped to your bed side. He reached for your left hand, holding it tightly in his own. His thumb caressed the back of your hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a smile, looking deep into your eyes. You stared back into his crisp blue eyes, finding no hint of irony or falsehood, “You get some more sleep, I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, letting yourself relax against the bed again, Nero still holding your hand as you felt yourself drift off. As your eyes closed again and your shoulders relaxed, you could have sworn you heard Nero say one more thing.

“Always.”

[prodchoi]

Delirium [part three]

Part one

Part two

[1,650+ words, blood mention, horror]

~

“Please.. please stop”

The shrieks and groaning from the.. entity. In front of him drowns his thoughts. His mind running in a million different directions Please. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Wake up I thought this was over. “YOU CAN'T LEAVE US AGAIN CHRISTOPHER” He flinches at the booming voice, falling backwards onto the steps, covering his ears.

///

[4:12pm] October 8th 2013, Sydney, Australia

A 16 year old boy sitting in the waiting room of a therapist office, his earphones playing some form of rap music. His mother shuffling the new patient forms beside him. Dark curls covering his head, a distant look in his golden brown eyes. A short blonde lady behind the reception counter pokes her head out the door, “Christopher Bang? You’re ready to come back” Chan gets up from the hard leather chair, straightening his shirt as he walks to the door, The nurses smiles at the him and he returns a small polite one. “It’s the door at the end of the hallway”. He advances towards the wooden door, nerves on end. Dr Patricia Lang ‘I’ve always hated doctors.’ He knocks twice, not sure whether to just enter or not, a quiet “come in” from the other side of the door.

//

“When did this start Christopher? The dreams I mean.” He stared at the clock on the desk, face blank in reply “About four months ago”. The older woman across from him nodded “Can you tell me what happens?” He gave a dry look “No”. She smiles, eyes crinkling at the rebellious boy. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me” The annoyed look on his face softens a bit, he opens his mouth as if he’s going to speak, conflict flashing in his eyes as he closes it straight back. “We don’t have to talk about it today, if you aren’t comfortable. Tell me a little about your life. What do you do Day-to-day? What are your interests?” He frowns a little, he wants to tell someone. Anyone. But he can’t form the words. “I.. I like music. Producing.” The blonde but greying woman nods, happy with anything he gives her. “My husband loved playing the guitar”. He looks at her finally, his emotions unreadable “My dad does too”. She wrote down the things he mentioned, black ink scribbled onto the yellow pages of her legal pad

Presumed schizophrenia. Depressive. Insomnia Sleep paralysis. Anger issues (?). Takes no form of antidepressant. Very active in sports and school activities until recently.

The hour had passed for his session, Chan felt more relief to leave than he did to be there. Feeling cornered, but he knew he needed this.

//

September 14th 2016

[4:26am]

Chan sits at a small corner desk, littered with crumpled notebook paper and different anime figures, a rather large goku figure stands on top of one of two large speakers. His features are lit by the blue hue from his laptop, Placebosample.mp3 sits in the open tab. A worn notebook wide open as his hand rests on its open page, pen loosely standing between his index and thumb, words stopping mid sentence. he fell asleep two hours ago, eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his lips in a natural pout.

Things are better. One visit left with Dr Lang before I leave for korea. Mom is less worried. The night terrors are rare. The last one I had was a 8 months ag—

The words stop there, nothing but a scribbled line to continue where his flowing thoughts halted. He stirred in his sleep, the ache in his back from the old desk chair waking him. “Agh fuck” he groaned as he stood, back making less than healthy popping noises as he leaned side to side. He shuffled just far enough across his room to face plant the bed, scooting up the rest of the way to the pillows in a caterpillar-like motion. ‘I’ll finish it this weekend’

//

[7:30am]

Morning comes sooner than he’d like, rays of golden sunlight streaming through the window beside his bed. One eye open, his face in a sleepy grimace, he rolls out of bed to do his morning routine that consisted of

1.Showering

2.Brushing his teeth

And 3. munching on something that probably isn’t meant to be a breakfast food

Surprisingly, he hops through the living room on one foot, attempting to shove a vans sneaker on his other with a pop tart hanging from his lips, as he realized when he zoned out in front of the fridge for 15 minutes he was late for his therapy appointment. The words ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ is all that ran through his mind at this very moment. A less than brief wait at the public transportation station has him on edge, already annoyed at the seemingly backed up traffic.

//

Dr Lang gave him a warm smile, Chan returning the favour at the familiar woman. He takes notice of how much she’s changed since their first session. Her hair is shorter, a salt and pepper grey filters her used to be blonde pin straight hair. More lines set in her face than there used to be.

“A little late today, aren’t we?”

He huffs a little, rubbing his palms on his jeans, “I overslept a bit” a sheepish look on his face. Dr Lang nodded, amused by the young man. “As this is our last session together before you leave.. I’d like to ask you a few things, Christopher”. He cocked his head a bit at her sudden change of feeling, but he knew exactly what she was going to bring up. “It’s been over seven months, Dr Lang. I don’t think I have to worry about it anymore” She shifted slightly, crossing her legs. “Christopher as much progression as you’ve made, I’m just afraid they might come back once you stop coming here” Her eyes look genuine, eyebrows furrowed. Chan looks at the floor, the carpet less guilt inducing than the woman across from him. “I’ve thought the same thing.. but I have to do this. I don’t need the medication anymore regardless, and I’ll be seeing a therapist there as soon as I’m able.” The older woman sighed, his stubbornness never fading over the years. “If they do come back you’ll be the first person I call” he gives her a soft smile, dimples poking at his cheeks. Opting to change the subject briefly, she takes her leather bound notebook and flips to one of their earlier sessions from that year, “Can you retell me the dream you had about 8 months ago?” Chans eyes whip up at the mention of the date, surprised she would bring it up out of nowhere. He nods, sighing a deep breath, readying himself. “Okay”

//

January 7th

2016

[11:26pm]

Chan is sprinting, barefooted on wet grass, trees passing by in blurs.

Go go go go go

Dogs barking a snarling behind him, closer and closer it seems. Snapping at his clothes and skin. He falls and is suddenly in his childhood homes living room. Blood coats the walls.

WELCOME HOME, CHRISTOPHER.

He scrambles from the floor, charging to exit the door and escape.

I’ve done this too many times to be afraid. He breaks through the thin wood door with his shoulder, already knowing the door knob wouldn’t open it. He rolls as he hits the ground, getting back to his feet in seconds and running again.

DON'T RUN FROM US.

DON’T LEAVE US.

Distorted screaming wails from every direction he covers his ears as he runs, knowing it’s tricks all too well now.

DON’T LEAVE US.

The red-orange hue in clouds giving everything in the copy of his neighborhood a sick, cheesy horror image. That’s what all of this felt like now.

A sick joke.

He halts suddenly, turning back to face what he’s feared for years now.

“ENOUGH!”

His chest heaves as his blood pressure rises

“I SAID ENOUGH, GODDAMNIT!”

He was shaking with confusion and rage at the thing in front of him. His breath leveling as he stared at it approaching him, slower than the hurdling motion it was following his running form with.

“Stop..please for the love god.. stop”

The…creature. Or how ever you can explain it morphed into a human shaped figure. It mirrored him. The skin turned a sick pale white, his hair stringier on the creature, everything was him. Just drained. Everything but the eyes. A milky white. Like pools of fog sitting where the eyes should be.

He raised his arm to wipe his face, body exasperated. It copied his movements.

“What are you? Why won’t you leave me?”

He isn’t scared at this point, just in awe that all the times he’s ran from it, it hasn’t hurt him yet.

The creatures breathing fluctuates as heavy chokes of air and the sound of fluid filled lungs depressing.

We go by many names

Its voice disembodied as it speaks, as if it speaks into his head rather from its form.

“Why me?” Chan stares at it, in what presumes is it’s eyes, the hair on the back of his neck standing when he makes ‘eye contact’

You are not weak, Christopher.

We need you.

We feed from you.

It draws in a snarling breath.

Your people call us, Incubus. Chan recognizes the word, “Aren’t you a.. sex demon, or something?” It chortles at his question. We do many, many things depending on the host. We feed on your fears rather your desire, dear boy. We thrive off of it. We thrive off ofYou.

Chan attempts to understand its words, though his anger only bubbles under his skin. “I don’t want you”. He seethes through clenched teeth. “I don’t want any of this”. The creature sways in place, its form twisting into something different, yet familiar. Dr Lang.

Let’s make a deal, Christopher.

[skylanders-after-the-end]

Face your Fears

The rain falling from the clouds above has been going on for an entire day and it wouldn’t stop. Everyone settled for a warm and dry spot and didn’t feel the need to go outside during this time. Roller Brawl gazed through the window inside one of the many towers of the Academy, lost in thoughts. She was looking at the fountain which Chill froze two days ago. It may have been fixed, but she couldn’t help but wonder why that happened in the first place. Was Chill losing control of her powers? Or was it something else? Her speculations were interrupted by the door leading to the small room opening and shortly after closing again. She turned around to see Chill, who was soaking wet from all the rain.

“Chill!” Roller Brawl looked through the room, searching for a blanket. She grabbed it and wrapped it around her friend’s shoulders. “Why were you in the rain? You should have stayed at home.”

“I was, until I remembered that I forgot my shopping bag recently.” Chill looked outside the single window and couldn’t find the bag which she last left by the fountain. “I have to ask Sprocket if she took it. At least it’s not in the rain.”

Chill was sitting on top of a pillow on the window ledge. She used the blanket that Roller Brawl gave her to dry herself, rather than keeping her warm. The vampire looked at the ice warrior and wondered what was on her mind. She didn’t want to blame her for the fountain, but she also wanted to find out what exactly happened.

“So… about that thing recently.” Roller Brawl slowly skated closer to the Water Skylander.

“The fountain.” Chill answered, already knowing what her friend would ask her. “I’m terribly sorry about that. I really don’t know what happened.” The Skylander looked at her hands before clenching them into fists and turning her head away. “I was so lost in thoughts and I guess my powers just… got a mind of their own.”

Roller Brawl was sad to see her best friend so frustrated and self-blaming. She sat down next to her and put her hand on Chill’s leg. “You don’t have to apologize. Stuff like that can always happen, and if it doesn’t happen again then we shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

Roller Brawl smiled friendly, which Chill returned with a somewhat forced smile. The skater got back up and turned around to look for more towels to get Chill dry. While she wasn’t looking, the window next to chill suddenly started to freeze. The Skylander looked at it with terror and watched as spirals of ice started to cover the glass. In the center of it, the ice slowly disappeared, creating the picture of a snowflake. Chill was suddenly struck with fear. She wasn’t sure what her powers were trying to tell her and why, but it might be a sign for something she thought was lost forever.

Many hours have passed since Stealth Elf arrived, and she still had no idea how to get back. The Skylander regretted following Enigma to this mysterious realm with every second and wishes she would’ve just let it go instead.

“How many doors are there?” She was talking to herself since no one else was around. Stealth Elf has been walking down the endless path with doors ever since Enigma left, but she didn’t find a single one that looked familiar.

As fascinated as she was to be in the famous place of doorways leading to other realms, all she wanted now was to get home. She kept on looking for doors, until she finally saw one which caught her attention. It was a mirror, she could see her reflection inside of it. It had a simple golden frame and didn’t look like anything special. However, something about it pulled Stealth Elf towards it, even if it wasn’t what she was looking for. The assassin soon realized that it wasn’t even a door. There was no parting, it was just a regular mirror. She slowly moved her hand towards it to touch it, causing a strange sound on impact. It sounded like glass being cut in half, but almost reversed. The Skylander finally built up the courage to stick her whole arm through it, followed by the rest of her body.

Stealth Elf opened her eyes and looked upon a wasteland. Wind was blowing through her braided hair and it smelled like ashes and earth. There were a few trees without any leaves, barely even standing up straight. The whole world appeared grey and colorless, and the islands were empty. Stealth Elf looked around and wondered where she landed. She had an extremely unsettling feeling about this realm and shivers ran down her spine. The elf suddenly gasped and shook her head. She quickly turned around and went through the mirror again, returning to the path of doors. She stopped and turned her head around to look at the mirror again, all she could see was her reflection. She decided to get away from that cryptic door and move on with her search.

As she was walking for some time, Stealth Elf finally saw a familiar gate. It looked identical to the portal at the Academy, which already allowed them to get to other realms as well. The Skylander didn’t hesitate and entered it, just to find herself back home. Stealth Elf was overjoyed to see the grey towers and stony roads of the Academy. Even though it was raining, the elf jumped with happiness and ran into the nearest building as fast as she could. After she calmed down, she knew what she had to do next; confront Enigma and Star Strike.

Darkness. That’s all that Cynder could see, utter darkness. This time she knew right away that she was dreaming and whatever was going to happen couldn’t harm her. She looked around the empty place until they finally appeared. The eyes were right in front of her and seemed more threatening than ever before. Instead of trying to run, Cynder stayed still and looked at them without showing any fear. Once again, a mouth appeared underneath them, but instead of going after Cynder it started to talk.

“Looks like you finally have the guts to face me, Cynder.” The disembodied facial parts started to float around the dragoness.

“What do you want? Why are you doing this?” Cynder followed the creature with her eyes but didn’t move herself in the slightest. She wanted to show her tormentor that he can’t control her anymore.

“I’m doing this because you are by far one of the easiest Skylanders to manipulate.” The eyes appeared back in front of her, followed by a sinister smile. “Isn’t that right, Black Dragon?”

Cynder became slightly insecure and took a step back. As scared as she was, Cynder kept herself from running off and faced her enemy. “Is it you?” The Undead Skylander moved forward again and raised her voice. “Is it you, Malefor?”

The foe only responded by laughing, he taunted the dragon. Cynder was outraged and collected all her anger into one powerful lightning strike from her mouth. It shot right through the eyes and made them vanish, leaving the dragoness alone again.

Cynder opened her eyes and saw her room, she was laying in her bed. The dragon lifted her upper body to look out the window. Rays of sunshine were piercing through the thick rainclouds. Water was dripping from leaves and everything seemed peaceful. Cynder wasn’t sure if the eyes were gone for good, but she had a feeling that she got rid of them for now. She finally felt free.

The day was coming to an end and all that remained of the rain were some puddles and the smell of wet grass. The sky was a mix of orange and purple colors, and the clouds looked like floating cotton candy. Snap Shot was back underneath the cherry tree, the one Wolfgang and he used to practice by. He calmly watched single drops fall from the petals and let his mind drift off. The Trap Master has been thinking a lot about what Gearshift told him, as little as he wanted to believe it. He didn’t hate Wolfgang anymore, but he wasn’t sure about his feelings for him now, so he invited the wolf to meet underneath the tree. They already did their training session, so it was just a private meeting. Wolfgang soon crossed the bridge which connected the small island to the Academy and walked towards Snap Shot. He didn’t carry his bone harp and seemed awfully quiet as well.

Snap Shot waved while smiling to greet his new friend. “Hey Wolf!” The former Doom Raider joined the reptile by sitting down and leaning against the tree just like him.

“You wanted to talk?” Wolfgang shortly looked at Snap Shot before he directed his sight at the beautiful sunset.

“Yeah.” Snap Shot wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t quite sure what to say at all. “We have been training together for some time now and I just wanted to hang out with you. You know, like friends.”

Wolfgang had to laugh after Snap Shot’s answer. “Friends. I never expected to hear that from you.”

Snap Shot smiled awkwardly in return. “I honestly didn’t either.” There was silence for a few moments and the two looked away from each other. “I never thought you could actually be… nice.”

“I never thought I would be nice.” Wolfgang laughed again. “But when you’re trapped and the only way to be free again is by becoming good, you start to reconsider your life choices.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” Snap Shot gazed at the setting sun as well while talking. “You sure used to be a pain in the ass.”

Wolfgang and Snap Shot giggled and looked at each other for a brief moment again. “All I really wanted was to share my music with the world.” The wolf looked up to the sky and thought about his past. “But no one could bear to watch a werewolf play, especially with horrible music.”

Snap Shot remained silent for a second and looked at the wolf, who was lost in thoughts. “You really care about your music, huh?”

Wolfgang nodded. “It’s what always kept me going. I became a Doom Raider to spread my music all throughout Skylands, even if it involved plundering villages and enslaving innocent people.”

“It feels like that was such a long time ago.” Snap Shot was amazed by how quickly time can go by. “I’m proud of you Wolfgang.” The Skylander looked at his companion with a smile. “After everything you decided to leave your evil days behind to focus on your passion. I admire that.”

Wolfgang couldn’t help but blush after the praise. “Thanks.” He almost swallowed the word while saying it and looked away in embarrassment. “There’s something I have to tell you.” Wolfgang sounded hesitant, but Snap Shot could tell that it was something urgent.

“Yes?” Snap Shot tried to not get his expectations too high, but deep down he was hoping that Wolfgang would finally tell him his true feelings. The Water Skylander wasn’t even sure about his own, but that could change if Wolfgang really did like him.

The werewolf’s eyes started to move in panic. They finally landed on the sun, which almost disappeared from the sky. “No… nevermind. Just forget it!”

Snap Shot watched in confusion as the wolf quickly got back on his feet. “Wolfgang? Is everything okay?”

“I have to go!” The wolf started to run away from Snap Shot. He stopped to turn around with a deeply remorseful expression. “I’m sorry.”

Snap Shot stood up as well while the werewolf left the island, he didn’t know what was going on. Did Wolfgang love him? Was he too afraid to tell him? Then why did he run off like his life depended on it. The Trap Master asked himself questions over questions. The sun was finally gone, and the sky was slowly turning dark blue. Snap Shot was caught completely off guard by the ear-piercing sound of the emergency sirens. The reptile’s eyes were wide open, he turned his head around to see Cloudcracker Prison. Snap Shot heard loud, destructive noises coming from it. Whatever was going on, he had to get there as quickly as possible.

[courtmere]

Down in the Sewers; Up in the Lorespire (Session 3)

Each adventurer had vivid dreams while they slept, some good, some bad. Axle had a very eventful day with his PTSD episode at the Mage College because of the explosions. When he returned to the inn, he performed some breathing exercises and successfully expelled any lingering anxiety which allowed him to get a restful night’s sleep.

Lantix fell into a restless sleep. When his dream began, he found himself in Sorrowsworn Swamp where he and Ash used to train. He was filled with dread that turned to pain and anguish. Before him was a trail into some trees. Lantix decided to follow the path. As he did, the trees grew larger and larger and the smell of leaves and soil grew stronger and stronger. To his right he heard a large, heavy footstep. Lantix looked that direction to see a giant elk with glowing green eyes and antlers. It was also covered in vibrant green moss. The elk was proportional to with the forest they were standing in. Lantix continued along the path until it dead ended. He saw a large tree with a single beam of sunlight cast upon it. As Lantix approached the tree its bark began to shift to reveal a door. From behind him something like a hand landed on his right shoulder, but it felt like a tree branch. Lantix was startled and jumped to the left spinning around to look at what had landed on him. Before him was an imp that had very tree like features; it reached for its great axe with both hands and swung at Lantix. He woke right before the axe came down on him.

Though Spark does not sleep, it must perform maintenance and during this maintenance period, three memories resurfaced:

In the first memory, Spark saw itself sitting on a workshop bench with an old gnomish wizard tinkering with Spark. As Spark’s blue eyes light up for the first time, the tinkerer is excited with the success and said, “Ah! Yes, good.” Most of the rest of the audio sounded garbled like someone speaking under water. The tinkerer said, “Your name is…” but the audio garbles but then continues, “My name is Mas Hiri.”

His second memory began in a flash. Spark found itself falling and extremely hot. As Spark fell, it crashed into something solid but breached the barrier. As it continued to fall it sees a mist surrounding it and a dark hooded figure. Spark hit another barrier and crashed through falling through the clouds and sky, then the treetops, then crashed to hit solid ground.

Spark’s final memory opened to it standing in a room full of other creatures that look almost exactly like him, and then his maintenance cycle ended abruptly.

Arielle found herself standing at the edge of the Drachenwald watching as her best friend walked away from her into the dense forest. Arielle called out to her, but the friend didn’t stop or turn around. Arielle heard a disembodied voice say, “The path of vengeance is not your’s to take.” Arielle asked, “Who is there?” But she received no answer. The only movement and noise she heard, or saw was a small flock of birds take off and fly away above the tree line before she woke.

Mayra drifted to sleep and found herself in a hallway lined with mirrors every few feet. She began down the hallway and each mirror held one of her own memories. She walked past one depicting the night her parents died. Another showed the night she was initiated into The Bleeding Eye. Looking for something to provide comfort she didn’t have in her daily life, she stopped at a mirror with a memory of a festival in Duskwall with her parents. It was a perfect family day, playing games, eating too much, getting to ride on her father’s shoulders. No complications from the secrets that would eventually shape the rest of her life. She reluctantly woke from her dream and got out of bed. She headed downstairs with the others to get breakfast and start the day. She requested some bacon from Braden. He seemed a little put out by the request but took a drink from his mug and got some pork belly on the stove. Axle attempted to read the mug but just saw seemingly random glyphs, shrugged, and moved on. Mayra looked as well and saw, “Don’t even talk to me until my death’s avenged.” Obviously, Braden was not a morning person.

The group discussed their plan for the day as they ate their breakfasts. Axle asked, “Are we going back?”

“I thought that was the plan.” Mayra responded.

“I’d like to get some health potions first and maybe a bag of holding.”

There was some discussion about whether the missing kids were the dolls, but Harry, who was with Lantix, explained the dolls were not the kids. They asked Harry the name of the child from his not, and he informed them her name is Sarah.

After finishing breakfast, Axle and Mayra headed to find some healing potions and that bag of holding. Though Axle did come from a rich family, he was a bit strapped for gold. Mayra pick-pocketed a couple of people along the way picking up 5 gold and 3 copper. As they were walking along the street a cloaked figure approached them. They could only see an unnaturally large smile under the hood. He inquired what they were in search for today. Both Axle and Mayra though this was totally normal and began doing business with him. Axle relayed they were looking for health potions and a bag of holding.

“I can sell you potions and a bag,” the stranger said. Axle requested to see the bag, and the stranger obliged. Axle grabbed a rock off the street and put it in the bag. He grabbed a hold of Mayra’s arm to steady himself as he reached the other into the back, focusing on the rock, and retrieved it. The potions looked like health potions, so Axle purchased 2 and the bag. They thanked the stranger and headed back to the inn to meet back up with everyone else.

The group headed toward the sewer entrance Mayra located yesterday. They wound their way to the open chamber Lantix had escaped. On the ground in the center of the room was a lifeless doll laying on the floor. There were two more standing in the far corner. Axle made a move to approach the one laying in the center, but Lantix stopped him. Instead Axle pulled the rock back out of his bag and tossed it at the doll. The rock missed landing wide. Spark noticed the needles held by each of the dolls and cast Dancing Lights to illuminate the space a little more. The group seemed unsure of what to do next, so Mayra took out her crossbow and aimed for the doll in the center of the chamber. The bolt flew past and hit the grate just to the right of the doll and bounced across the room. Suddenly, the doll came to life, lifted its head; it looked through everyone until its gaze fell on Lantix and said, “I like you.” Then it sat up, then stood up.

Axle was the first to make a move. He closed the distance between himself and the doll. He moved carefully to avoid slipping on the sewage all over the floor. He landed an attack with his battle axe. Lantix took a panicked shot with his longbow and fueled by that panic at seeing the doll that stabbed him yesterday come to life, he landed a critical blow with his arrow. Spark moved to the left corner of the room carefully and casted Firebolt hitting the doll in the middle of the chamber. The doll struck Axle with its needle. Mayra, ready to join this fight, shot her crossbow and landed a killing blow. The doll’s head exploded as it fell lifeless to the ground. The other two dolls came to life. One moved from the its corner to the center next to Axle and stabbed him. The other moved along the length of the room next to Arielle and took a stab and connected. Kali casted Healing Word on Axle and then yelled, “Praise the sun,” as he casted Word of Radiance. Arielle attempted to knock her doll off its feet with her shield but was unsuccessful, the doll just bounced off the shield with a giggle. Arielle, with her other hand, swung her longsword at it but missed. Still giggling, the doll quipped, “Ha ha, you’re new at this.”

Axle began to rage and tried to attack the doll nearest him. The doll moved out of the way and said, “You’re next!”

“I will stomp you, tiny child,” Axle retorts.

“I’m not a child.”

Lantix took aim but his arrow went wide. Spark casted firebolt on the doll near Axle, but his firebolt flew by singing the stone of the wall at the back of the chamber. Mayra made a sneak attack with her crossbow while the doll was focused on Axle and landed a good blow. The doll near Axle stabbed him and successfully cursed him. He felt himself become lethargic and got a sense he would not be as effective when attacking. Arielle was stabbed by the third doll and suffered the same effects as Axle. Kali cast Healing Word on Arielle. Arielle disengaged from the doll that just stabbed her and moved to the doll near Axle. She tried to knock that one down with her shield but failed. Axle used his battle axe to take a slice out of the doll in the middle of the chamber, and then drank a health potion. Lantix and Spark both landed good shots on the doll in the middle with a longbow and Firebolt, respectively. The second doll tried to pull Axle’s soul from his body, but Axle performed his breathing exercises and re-centered himself. The doll who was facing Arielle, turned its head 180 degrees to look at Axle and said, “How dare you!?” It was angry it couldn’t capture Axle’s soul. The other doll closed the distance between it and Lantix and stabbed him. Mayra shot another crossbow at the one in the middle of the room and then moved across the room away from the one standing right next to Lantix. The bolt landed square in its body. It shrieked, and its head exploded with green goo before it became lifeless. Arielle stabbed the remaining doll from behind with her longsword and finally connected.

Axle missed his swing on it with his battle axe. Lantix, who was standing right next to the doll, grappled it. Mayra yelled out, “I hope it doesn’t stab you!” Spark casted Firebolt again which connected solidly with the doll. Mayra tried to shoot the final doll, but was so worried about hitting Lantix, her bolt went wide and flew passed them. Kali casted Word of Radiance and there was a brief burst of radiant energy. Arielle tried again to attack with her longsword but was having zero luck hitting anything today.

Axle came down hard with his battle axe, but it was Lantix who dealt the killing blow. With the doll firmly in his grasp he said, “I like you,” mimicking the dolls and bit its head off. The doll exploded with sickly green crap as he dropped it to the ground.

The lethargy Axle and Arielle felt suddenly lifted as the curse broke when the dolls died. Axle began looking around and putting the dolls in his bag. From the tunnel on their left, in walked a hunched old man with a white beard. He was wearing what looked like half a set of welding goggles with a bunch of lenses. He also wore an apron with tools in it. Behind him were two children, a little girl and boy. The clothes they wore were not clean, but they looked to be in better shape for what you would expect to be worn by a couple of orphaned children living in the under city. Their shoes, however, were immaculately clean, appearing brand new. Harry, who was sitting on Lantix’s shoulder, whispered, “Those are my kids.”

Spark greeted the old man who turned and looked at him. He said, “You’re not one of mine.” He was also holding an inanimate doll that was missing its head.

Spark asked, “What is your name?”

The old man responded that he did not remember his name as it has been such a long time since anyone used it, but they could call him The Toymaker. Recognizing the doll in his hand, Axle retrieved a doll body from his bag and asked, “Are these your toys?”

“Ah, yes. They were, but they formed a mind of their own and ignored the holy work,” the Toymaker replied.

“Holy work?” Axle asked in confusion.

In a voice that was not his own, the Toymaker said, “Courtmere must be brought to order. The world must be brought to order.”

The kids appeared to not be in danger. They were not in distress, and they had been fed recently. Spark could feel there was something off about this old man but couldn’t put its finger on it because it wasn’t sure if all old people seemed off like this of if it was just him.

Arielle asked what he meant by “Courtmere needs to be brought to order?”

“I have no rec…,” the Toymaker started but was interrupted by the voice that was not his, “Things are not structured as they should be. Things must be structured. All must be structured.” Then the Toymaker continued in his own voice, “…ollection of saying that.”

Arielle cast Divine Sense and as she began, it was almost like she was staring into the sun. There was a celestial presence coming from the Toymaker, and it was very overwhelming. Arielle immediately took a step back and asked, “What are you doing with the children?”

“They were near my workshop and looked hungry. They reminded me of my children so long ago.” Mayra could feel the sorrow in his voice when he mentioned his own children.

Axle turned his attention towards the children and with his big brother energy asked, “Are you Kevin and Sarah?”

“Yes,” Kevin responded.

“Are you well? Your friend sent us to find you.”

“Aw yeah, Harry is great, but we are ok. The Toymaker got us some food and clothes. He helped us when the Mages Guild was trying to run us out of the under city,” Kevin explained.

Still unsatisfied with knowing whether or not the Toymaker was manipulating the kids, Mayra addressed him to get a bit more information. “I’ve lost people who were really important to me. I know how painful it is, but I found it can get better if you talk about it, so if you’d like to, I’d be happy to listen.”

The Toymaker looked at her, his lenses shifting, examining her to see if she was being sincere. He seemed satisfied that she was and responded, “Oh child, I’m so sorry for what happened to your parents. I lost my children so very long ago in an accident of my own design.”

Mayra not wanting to push him for further information about his own tragedy refocused on the present children, “Are you able or ok to care for the children?”

“Oh, the children are free to come and go as they please. If they are looking for food, I can help them out,” The Toymaker explained.

Mayra was semi-satisfied with this answer. The Toymaker was acting strangely, and she did not want to push too far. The Toymaker went to take his leave, but Arielle stopped him to ask what the holy work was. With a gleam in his eye that didn’t sit well with Arielle, he said, “As Primus said, Courtmere must be brought to order, I am his hands; I must get back to my workshop.” He turned and left the chamber the same way he came, and the children followed him.

While the odd voice was coming from the Toymaker, Spark felt a pressure in its head. It felt the urge to follow the Toymaker deeper into the sewer but did not. Axle walked to the center of the chamber and looked down the great but saw nothing. Lantix noticed this and did the same. He also saw nothing but darkness.

Mayra suggested looking for some books with information on Primus at a library or bookstore as Arielle could not recall hearing anything about Primus, and Axle’s history knowledge seemed centered around battle tactics from his kingdom. Arielle, Axle, and Lantix wanted to grab some food while Spark and Mayra headed to the library.

Arielle went and got a meal. Axle and Lantix stopped at the fruit cart in the courtyard. They had each been payed 30 gold pieces for taking care of the Toymaker’s arrant children. Lantix had never had this much gold before and wanted to spend a good chunk on fruit. For 5 gold, the vendor gave him a fruit that tasted of strawberry kiwi and made him feel like he was on a caffeine high. Axle requested the most expensive fruit. The vendor disappeared for a minute and came back rolling a large fruit that looked like a pineapple but was the size of a wine barrel. Axle asked what it did. The vendor replied, “I don’t eat these because they’re very hard to find, and they say a single bite makes you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.” Axle declined the nirvana fruit and opted for the same fruit Lantix got. Axle asked if any fruit could give the consumer a magical property like invisibility or flying.

“The Mages Guild strictly prohibits the selling of any magical fruit to anyone. If you have an issue with this take it up with Lord High Inquisitor Gideon Fellweather,” the vendor said, as if it was a canned response.

Spark and Mayra made their way over to the Lorespire. Spark wandered through the stacks looking for the history section. After about an hour, he found some basic information about Courtmere from the last 5 years. The biggest event was the regulation of magic in the city to prevent a cataclysmic event. There were not really any political conflict or wars of note. As a major trade hub, Courtmere managed to remain as neutral as possible. Spark checked out a book titled, “Khazilid Schism.”

This was the largest library Mayra had ever seen and did not want to wander around aimlessly, so she located a librarian. She found a 6’8” bookish elf. He had very long ears and brown hair with streaks of silver pulled back into a ponytail and square framed glasses. She walked up and said, “Hi, I am looking for information on Primus. Can you point me in the right direction please?” The librarian thought for a minute, and he drew a map in the air with his finger. When he was done, he handed her a map with a glowing, golden arrow pointing the way. “Just follow the arrow, and it will get you where you need to be,” he instructed.

“When I’m done with this, do I need to return it to you?” She asked referring to the map.

“No, it will disappear when you’re done with it.”

“Cool. Thank you,” she said as she began following the golden arrow. The map took her deep into the stacks, so deep there was a thick layer of dust on the books and shelves. She made it to where the map lead, standing in front of a very old book titled “The Manual of the Planes.” She blew the dust off the books which backfired stirring a bunch of the dust in her face. Mayra let out a sneeze, pulled the book off the shelf, and sat down to begin flipping to the table of contents.

At about this time, Lantix, Axle, and Arielle entered the Lorespire. Lantix went off looking for Spark and, out of sheer luck, located it rather quickly in the history section. Axle and Arielle found the same librarian and asked him about Primus. Confused, the librarian said, “Huh? People don’t regularly come in here looking for information about Primus. I’m assuming that other girl that just came in asking about the same thing is your friend?” Axle answered in the affirmative, so the librarian drew them the same map he had drawn for Mayra and off they went with haste. They found Mayra at the end of their map, sitting with her back against the stack flipping through a book. Axle grabbed a book off the shelf, sat down next to Mayra on her left, and started flipping through his own book. Mayra looked over and saw the title “Eberon” upside down. She asked Axle, not out of malice but confusion, “Can you read?”

“Of course, I can read, what kind of man can’t read?” Axle responded.

Not wanting to embarrass Axle, Mayra leaned in and whispered, “Try flipping it over.”

“Ahh, yes, of course. That’s better,” Axle said as he continued flipping through the book looking at pictures of flying ships, clockwork items, and tattoos glowing with magic.

Arielle took a seat on the other side of Mayra and read over her shoulder. As Mayra opened the book it was in a language she did not understand, but as she was looking at the page, the letters began to change. It was flipping through different language alphabets until it got to Elvish, the first language the book registered that Mayra could understand. Arielle did not experience this phenomenon as the book’s natural language was Celestial, and Arielle can read Celestial. There was no mention of Primus in the table of contents, so Mayra flipped to the appendix in the back of the book. She located an entry on Mechanus, the lawful outer plane and Primus as the god of that plane. There was not much else written on Primus, but she noticed a handwritten footnote in a language none of them understood. Mayra got up and walked back up to the front. She asked the librarian if he could read it and translate it for her. He mentioned the footnote was written in a very old dialect of Dwarven, but it translated to:

Mechanus has been quarantined by the high lords of throne in accords with the pact of the Great Planar War.

Mayra thanked the librarian for his help and suggested they discuss this further back at the inn. Mayra got some dinner and relaxed before bed.

The next morning, Kayla Seawright, the other missing girl, wandered back into the Mages College. She had been sucked into the doll the Toymaker was holding when the group talked to him. Kayla’s parents rewarded each of the adventurers with 80 gold for the safe return of their daughter.

[onenightandgone]

Mind’s Eye - Chapter One

Chapter One Mutant AU KaixSehunxReader

Thud.

You sighed loudly.

Thud.

‘Can you not?’ you yelled, trying to focus on the road.

Kai laughed, and you felt another thud as he kicked the back of your seat again. You didn’t have to glance over at Sehun to see his jaw set in cement and his brows furrowed and molded in iron.

You wanted to further protest against Kai’s behaviour but you knew how delighted he would be to hear that he successfully got under your skin. You weren’t the only person he was bothering though, and one more kick was all it took to set Sehun off.

‘How old are you?’ He turned in his seat to yell at Kai. A gust of icy wind blew through your hair.

‘Sehun,’ you warned.

You pulled up at a red light, and you took the opportunity to check the rear-view mirror. Kai stared at Sehun defiantly. His form seemed to flicker.

‘No, Kai,’ you said. ‘Stay, please?’

His eyes met yours in the mirror and softened. Sehun turned back to you, and you felt your face burn as he looked at you in disbelief.

‘Why are you taking his side?’ he asked incredulously.

Immediately Kai reacted, leaning forward with his hand on your shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized quickly. ‘I got carried away.’  

‘Thank you,’ you nodded. ‘I’m not taking sides.’ The tone of exasperation slipped in on its own as you defended yourself.

‘Then why do you always stand up for him?’ Sehun asked, slumping down in his seat.

‘I-‘ you began, but luckily, the light turned green and you could focus on driving, as well as you could focus with the clash of wills happening in your car.

You let your mind wander away from the seemingly constant conflict between Sehun and Kai. Kai’s hand remained on your shoulder the whole way home, his head on the side of your seat. He only stirred when he saw you pulling into the parking lot of your apartment building.

He sat up straight, smiled and winked at you in the mirror before vanishing. Kai was like that – one moment he would be there, and the next he would be gone.

Sehun got out and walked to the trunk to grab the two bags of groceries out of the back. You tried to take them out of his hands, but he pulled them out of your reach, spinning around rapidly when you tried to out-maneuver him.

‘I got it! I got it!’ he insisted. ‘Just open the door, will you?’ Sehun motioned at the door with his chin.

You gave up and searched through your purse, fumbling for your keys.

‘I know they’re in here somewhere,’ you muttered, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Sehun.

‘Y/N,’ he said.

You didn’t pay attention and kept rummaging.

‘Y/N!’ Sehun repeated with more volume.

‘What!’ you snapped. Your nostrils flared. Sehun’s shape wavered, and he let out a gasp.

‘No, Y/N, wait!’ he reached out with his grocery-laden hands. ‘Your keys!’

You looked with horror to where he was pointing and felt yourself turn a deep shade of red. Your keys were in your hand and had been there since you had gotten out of the car. You moved to unlock the door.

Suddenly Kai appeared on the other side and smiled arrogantly as he held it open for you. He stood tall, but you felt him hunch over you slightly as you walked by him. His messy hair brushed your cheeks, and you felt him chuckle airily.

‘You guys take forever,’ he complained with amusement.

‘Excuse us for going at a normal pace,’ you retorted.

‘It’s because she lost her keys again, but they were in her hand the whole time,’ Sehun offered easily, a little too much so. Kai rolled his eyes, and it seemed like they might be on the same page again.

‘Again, Y/N?’ he teased. ‘What would you do without us?’

You arrived at your apartment door and hastily unlocked it, eager to put space between you and your tormentors.

‘I would live peacefully without constantly being reminded of my failures,’ you replied succinctly.

Sehun followed you through the door, trudging around you to the kitchen where he started putting away groceries.

Kai walked in only to vanish and reappear on the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table, smiled wickedly, and patted the cushion next to him. The invitation was tempting, and you considered it briefly before remembering Sehun. You dashed into the kitchen and began helping him.

‘I’m okay, go sit with him,’ Sehun said, not looking up at you.

‘No, this is my job anyway. You know you don’t have to do any of this,’ you mentioned quietly.

‘Any of what?’ he said. He paused with a package of macaroni and cheese in his hands.

‘This – helping me – you can go have fun,’ you said, shuffling under his intense gaze.

‘I want to do this,’ he said without hesitation. ‘Do you think that you could make me do things for you, or that I would be here at all unless I wanted to be?’

You shrugged and grabbed the hard-won box of cereal. Sehun exhaled loudly.

‘Well, you couldn’t. I think I’ve reached that level of existence,’ he said, shelving the macaroni.

‘I still want to help you,’ you muttered sheepishly. ‘I want my friend, not a maid.’

Sehun froze again.

‘Friend?’ he cocked his head to the side, unsure of what you had said. You nodded seriously.

You fell quiet as you finished putting the groceries away. Kai waved you over to his as you came around the corner. He held a game controller in his hand and had the spare one beside him. You yawned obviously.

There was a loud sigh and a soft pop, and he was directly behind you, guiding you towards the couch.

You complied as your sleepless night finally caught up with you. Kai shoved you gently onto the cushions.

‘No, I’m okay,’ you said, trying to brush him off as he grabbed a blanket hanging from the back of one of the chairs.

‘Look at you though,’ he said with concern. ‘You look worn out. You need to rest.’

You regarded him skeptically, but the fog began taking over your brain as you considered a nap.

‘Maybe for a little bit,’ you yawned again.

Kai laid you onto your side, draping the blanket over your shoulders.

‘Will you stay?’ you asked. You blinked up at him with sudden concern.

Kai brushed wayward strands of hair out of your eyes, and a sad smile played at his features.

‘For as long as I can,’ he said quietly.

Your eyes finally closed under the heavy force of sleep and your mind drifted off.

Your dreams came upon you swiftly, but they were not the typical dreamstuff.

It felt like waking up, but you were still asleep. Or at least, you thought you were.

You opened your eyes to find yourself in a familiar scene - the playground at school in the second grade.

It had been a difficult time for you, as no one seemed to talk to you much or notice you at all, and you were sad for a while. The other kids, when they did notice you, seemed to sense that you were different, even if they didn’t know exactly how. You spent a lot of time running around by yourself, imagining scenes and creatures and pretending you had friends.  It was your escape, at least for a little while.

On this day, you fell trying to balance on top of the seesaw. You sat in the gravel tragically, your eyes brimming with tears as you examined your skinned knee.

How different everything would be if you had friends, you thought. They wouldn’t have let you fall, they would have picked you up, brushed you off. You felt a moment of happiness as you imagined yourself in such a fortunate situation. You had imagined it before, but this time felt new, and it was overwhelmingly blissful. The more you imagined it, the clearer everything became until you heard the first voice.

‘Why do you cry all the time?’ said the child’s voice.

You looked around for the source, but there was no one else on the playground.

‘Who are you?’ you said out loud. The voice giggled.

‘Oh, you won’t find me out there! I’m in here!’

‘Where’s here?’ you asked. There was a small buzzing sensation down the back of your neck. ‘Who are you?’

‘They’re going to think you’re crazy if you keep on like this,’ another voice warned.

You shook your head, trying to clear the cobwebs, but it didn’t have any effect.

You closed your eyes as you tried to figure out what was happening, isolating the sounds. You didn’t know how, but it just felt right. The two voices kept chattering away, saying things like ‘This way!’ and ‘Almost there!’ You followed them inside through winding paths, trying to pinpoint them.

It felt like being in a labyrinth of dark tunnels and following a single lantern through a cavernous blackness, and maybe that’s exactly what it was. Suddenly you came upon a brightly lit room, vast and beautiful. You blinked as you stepped into the brightness.

The stone was no longer rough, but polished, smooth and clean. The light was like sunlight, warm and peaceful. The sound of the two voices echoed in the chamber, but they were no longer disembodied.

The two small boys lay on the stone floor, playing with small pebbles. Their hair was long, and their eyes were full of life, dazzling in the light. Their laughter rang magically, but died away once they saw you.

‘Y/N! You’re finally here!’ The boy that the first voice belonged to got to his feet and ran to you. You jumped, startled, as he eagerly embraced you, an unexpected gesture.

‘You’re the voice!’ you managed to say.  He laughed and smiled a toothy grin.

‘I prefer Kai, but, yes, I talked to you,’ he said.

The other boy stood slowly, and his cheeks turned pink as he noticed you looking at him. He was the thinner of the two, but his face was more defined with smaller eyes and a sculpted nose.

‘This is Sehun,’ Kai said. ‘He’s a little shy, but he’ll come around.’

‘Hi,’ you heard yourself say. Your voice was so tiny and quiet that it didn’t even produce an echo. ‘I’m sorry, but where are we?’

You looked up, bending your head up to try to see the ceiling of the chamber, but it seemed to stretch on forever beyond what appeared to be a thick layer of clouds many meters up.

‘Well, you’re still in the playground, but you’re also in here,’ Kai said, tapping your temple.

‘So I’m imagining you?’

‘Yes and no,’ Sehun started to say. ‘You’re special, Y/N-‘

‘But who cares about that?’ Kai cut in. ‘Here you can play with us and have all the fun you want! What do you want to do first?’ He exploded with excitement.

You looked around for an idea of what to do, but the place was empty, barren. There was nothing except yourself, the two boys, and the scattered pebbles they had been playing with.

‘But there’s nothing to do,’ you said.

‘This room has everything we need. You just have to want it bad enough,’ Kai said. Sehun nodded emphatically. ‘Just picture it.’

You hummed and thought carefully. You picked your favourite board game and imagined what it looked like. There was a strange tingle down the back of your neck, but nothing else happened. You looked at Kai in confusion.

‘Focus,’ Sehun said softly. ‘Focus on what you want and nothing else.’

You pictured the game again and emptied your mind of distractions.

You gasped sharply. The next time you looked up, the exact board game was lying in the middle of the floor. It had the exact colours, sizes, and assortment of shapes that you had recalled, assembled, set up and ready to play.

‘You did it!’ Sehun cheered with his small voice. He smiled at you proudly.

‘Ok, let’s play!’ Kai yelled, running over and plopping down next to the game. ‘How do you play this, Y/N? Are you sure this is fun? It looks boring!’ He crossed his legs and examined the pieces.

‘It’s not boring! Here, I’ll show you!’ you returned in equal volume. You dashed over to show him, finding a new boldness within yourself.

You had been nervous at first around Kai and Sehun, but you were becoming increasingly at ease. Maybe, just maybe, you thought, you had met them before. Could it be you had known them all along? Your seven-year-old self didn’t think about it too hard, and instead took the proffered friendship eagerly.

Sehun walked over to the game slowly, sitting on the opposite side of Kai with you between them. He watched you carefully, observing in his own way as you explained the rules and how to play.

The game began, and the three of you carried on, playing happily. There was protesting and tantrums when Kai lost some of his pieces to Sehun, and a quiet smile from Sehun as he won them. The afternoon passed merrily.

Suddenly there was a loud bell, its clanging dragging your eyes open. You looked around, perplexed as you felt the gravel under your bottom, felt the sting in your knee, and saw the seesaw in front of you.

You were back in the playground, and Kai and Sehun were nowhere to be found. Where did they go?

‘Y/N!’ a teacher yelled from a short distance away. ‘Recess is over! Time to come inside!’

The sadness at losing your new friends stormed in and swept away the small happiness you had gained. You felt it so sharply, even as you first had all those years ago, that you woke from your nap with a start.

You propped yourself up on your elbow on the couch, surveying your apartment groggily.

‘Kai?’ you called. ‘Sehun?’

There was no response except for the buzz from the refrigerator. They had gone after all, and you were alone again.

Mind’s Eye: Prologue | One

[talesofwight]

A Thing I Wrote While Waiting in Queues

((Because I got really super bored, I spent a good hour and a half to 2 hours writing a thing that will be under the cut so it doesn’t clog up anybodies’ feeds. Enjoy more Rufus and his darkside stuff!))

The light of the morning sun streamed through his windows, illuminating his sleeping visage, as peaceful as it was. He stirred with a groan, shifting and reflexively raising a hand to protect his freshly-opened eyes from the barrage of light now assaulting them. He sighed, turning to one side and curling in, fruitlessly trying to sink back into the embrace of his warm, feathered bed.

"No rest for the wicked..." He mumbled unto himself, his voice croaking out hoarsly, shaking off the morning's rust. He forced himself to rise, first into a seated position, raising his arms high over his head as he let out a long yawn. He then slid to the end of the bed before rousing himself onto his feet. The air outside the warmth of his bed felt cold in comparison, at least across his bare form. He gave an irritable groan at the sensation, and chose to ignore it as he half-stumbled his way through his small room towards the bathroom, where the warmth of his bath awaited.

Freshly bathed, he stepped back into the bedroom area, leaving his waterlogged towel behind him as he stepped up to his wardrobe. He placed both hands upon the handles and drew the doors wide open. He ever had been a man of fairly simple dress. A tunic, gloves, trousers and boots were his usual fare, and today proved no different as he picked his chosen items of clothing out, dressing himself piece by piece.

He wound his way down the corridor, approaching the door he knew would lead him back into the main area. A path he had tread so often in his time here. There it was. He grabbed the handle of the door and pushed it open, quickly following the motion as he stepped into the main room of the Jackal's manor. It never failed to amuse him how far they had come in recent times, and their living circumstances were proof of it. And yet, something caught his attention. It was quiet. Entirely too quiet.

"That's right..." He spoke under his breath, scanning the spacious room, and the surrounding upper areas. "So many up and left. Feels... empty now."

In recent times, more than a handful of company members had left to various corners of the world for one reason or another, leaving behind a smaller numer of Jackals who either could not decide where to go, or simply did not want to. Rufus found himself to be one of the former. He had pondered at length where he wished to go. To Gyr Abania to get caught up in a war for freedom, in which many Jackals had expressed desire to fight? To Othard, a land ripe for exploration and culture abound? In the end, he couldn't choose, and now he stood in the quiet shell of the manor. Alone.

"You'll never be truly alone..." A disembodied, echoed voice suddenly rung from all angles, making Rufus's heart skip a beat in surprise, his fists balling as he renewed his scan of the area, though far more wearily than before.

"Come now, is that any way to react? You knew this was coming." The voice spoke again, sounding clearer this time. "To think, you would still deny this part of you. Though part of me can't blame you."

"You ran your course, and you know that! I didn't have any more use for you!" Rufus shouted back into the air. What would someone have thought, should they have run across him then?

The voice began to laugh. A deep, echoing rumble that seemed to rattle in Rufus's skull for an unpleasantly long time. "Oh, how rich! And you still claim that I'm the cruel one. Why don't we move this conversation to a more... personal place?"

"What? No, I--..." Before he could finish his sentence, a sensation like that of being drunk fell over him. His head began to throb painfully. His body felt heavy and numb, and his vision began to fade to black. He tried to resist, but the darkness was unrelenting. It took him.

His eyes shot open once more, breath suddenly filling his lungs as he was met with the overhead view of a sky of swirling purples and blacks. Unnatural by any being's measure. He exhaled and closed his eyes again, willing it to simply be a dream. That he would wake again in his bed.

"A tad rude to ignore one's host." Came a familiar, crystal-clear voice. It spoke in chiding, sarcastic tones. Rufus sighed, accepting his reality as his eyes fluttered open again. What his eyes saw would, under most circumstances, be met with disbelief. As though he was looking in a mirror, he saw himself. The same shoulder-length brown hair, the icy-grey eyes, the distinguishing scar that marred his brow. It was all there.

"And when that host is me? How does that work?" Rufus shot back at his clone, grunting as he picked himself up from the cracked purple-coloured earth beneath him.

His shadow chuckled, shaking his head softly. "Then I suppose you would be hating yourself, wouldn't you? Ah, but the back-and-forth is not the reason I want to talk to you. You know why I'm still here."

"I had suspected, though hoped that I wasn't right." Rufus admitted with a weary sigh.

"Well, you understand then. Shattering the soul crystal really only hindered you. The darkness remains, swirling within you like a raging blaze. You simply lost the ability to channel it. You can don that paladin's soul crystal and pretend all you like, but you know that's not who we are."

"At least people aren't afraid of me when I pretend. You caused so much trouble. You hurt a lot of people. How am I supposed to embrace you, as though nothing ever happened?"

"I admit, I was a tad unruly. We've always been stubborn, and I may as well embody that trait. But I've come to an understanding in the time since you sent me back here. I cannot defeat you. If you insist on holding the reins, then I will do what I can to ensure that we stay alive as long as possible. That's my compromise." His shade stared him down for several, long moments. Being an expert in himself, Rufus could discern from it's expression that it seemed to mean it's words.

Rufus paused, giving consideration to the words that the embodiment of his darkness spoke, a tense frown drawing his brows together. After some moments of silence, he finally spoke. "Even if I were to agree to that... the soul crystal was shattered, and I wouldn't even know how to repair it if I found it."

"What was once broken can be made whole. Find the shards, and we can do the rest. Together. Now, I haven't the strength to keep you here much longer... Away with you." His shade raised a hand, and once more a feeling of intense disortientation fell over Rufus. Darkness clouded his vision once more as the next thing he knew, he was sprawled across the marbled floor of the Jackal's mansion again. Though in the distance, he could make out a faint whisper: "Consider my words, Rufus. Even if you deny me, the darkness will remain. It is a sad fate, but one you can't escape. Instead, use my powers. Do what you will with them. Just see that we live."

He simply laid there on the floor for what felt like bells. His head swam with thoughts and emotions. Eventually, he rose onto his unsteady feet with a grunt of exertion. "I can't believe I'm even considering this..." He muttered, clutching his chest tightly. "Though it seems as though I've little choice. I'll play along, for now." He exhaled a long breath, his brows knitting together with resolve. He found his feet carrying him at a brisk pace towards the door. He knew not how this would end, but he would be damned if he relinquished his grip upon the reins.