#he’s wildfire against everyone who has even slightly done wrong

[wyvernne]

i’m working on the frwad sequel and casually thinking about how vampluc would definitely burn down mondstadt if the holy knight asked him to goodbye

[sarahfeliciam]

The Ultimatum Ch 2

Emeline found herself drawn to her conversations with her father at the end of every Defense Against the Dark Arts class that week. This was not unusual for her. DADA was her last class of the day, anyway, and she had felt ease in her conversations with Professor Lupin for some reason - a reason she now understood well.

He was very easy to talk to and she often discussed her schooling and anything she didn't understand with him. The only difference was that she could now sit huddled up on a chair, overlooking the Great Lake out the window as the sun dimmed, and not feel as though she was overstaying her welcome despite before hanging around for maybe a few minutes in comparison to the hours she passed now sat in front of her father.

It was already common knowledge to the entire school the news that spread through her own heart like wildfire. Everyone was too shocked and fascinated to dare say anything to her, yet. Even Draco had so far found himself at a loss for words, which Emeline was grateful for. She wasn't expecting muteness from him and was enjoying the time before she'd inevitably need to put him in his place. Certainly, what was saving his snide remarks on that front, was the fact that despite everyone knowing Remus Lupin was her father, they were still none - the - wiser to his condition, which is a secret Emeline now shared with him, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey and the other professors.

As she peered out the window, the moon glistening menacingly through it with just the slightest sliver left unfilled , she sighed deeply and turned to face her father who was grading papers.

"How do you feel?"

He finished the remarks he was in the middle of writing and set his quill down, fixing all of his attention on her.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you know…" she cocked her head slightly toward the window to motion to the moon and chuckled. "Impending doom and all."

Emeline was a humorous and exaggerative teen. She was social, kind, always up for a laugh, and quite compassionate. She had a sarcastic wit but was fairly oblivious. She spoke her mind with no second thought and was incredibly accepting. Though that all sounds well enough, her father staring blankly at her almost convinced her to think she'd gone too far, (something she'd accidentally done with her comments in serious scenarios many times before). At attempting to ease the strain of a horrible condition, she was sure it had backfired and he was angry.

Until he laughed.

A quick and short, genuine chuckle that immediately set her smile back on her face.

"My condition has been many things, Emeline, but never humorous. If you must know, I feel much better after that comment, as doomed as I may be."

He set back to work grading and Emeline fixed her eyes back on the moon. Sometimes she wished she didn't lead with humor as often as she found herself doing so. She did truly wonder how this must feel, but she knew enough to know that pressing him further in that moment would be the wrong choice. She cracked open the book in her lap again and they passed the rest of the evening in knowing silence, the smell of chocolate wafting through the air, tea getting cold on his desk, and in their own little bubble until she heard those heavy castle doors sliding into place, which beckoned her to sleep safe in her dorm room once again.

•

The next morning, Emeline bounded out of her dormitory, chesnut curls bouncing against her face and her robe half off her shoulders, bag clutched against her chest and a few extra books under her arms. The second she ran out, she found herself running clean into someone and stumbled backwards as they caught her, almost as clumsily as she was.

"How in the world do you manage the marks you receive when your life is in such shambles?" Remus took a few books from her arms in one hand, leaning against his cane with the other.

"I dunno really. One thing I've never subscribed to is the early bird getting the worm, though. I think most of my professors just accept the fact that my intelligence makes up for what I lack in…"

She had never seen his disappointment before. After all, she hardly knew him, however she certainly knew that look. She swallowed thickly. "Punctuality." She flashed him a convincing smile and he let out a sigh.

"I really don't want to take a hard day out on you, Em, but try and be prompt. For Merlin's sake, you're halfway through an entire class already."

"Charms is hardly good use of my time." She muttered under her breath, almost silent.

"My condition awards me many heightened sensibilities: Catching your muttering is one of them, and I don't think Professor Flitwick would take kindly to your disdain of his entire subject, Emeline, do you?"

"Likely not. This conversation has cost me an additional five minutes already, though."

He straightened up as best he could and looked down on her with what resembled his usual calm, yet somehow it still came off forced. She supposed she needn't wonder how impending doom made him feel anymore.

"I only came to tell you to have a good day today, not expecting to wait twenty minutes, might I add. I won't be around until after tomorrow. You've faired just fine on the sidelines of all of this and I'm sure you just thought I was an exceptionally ill person, however now that we have all these truths out in the open, I felt it fair to keep you involved. Professor Snape will be hosting Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon as well as tomorrow whilst I recover."

"Thank you," she softened. "I do want to be involved and it helps make the most abnormal thing I've ever grasped feel… more normal. This has all been quite a bit to manage, but did you really need to make it worse by enlisting Snape?"

"Professor Snape is well versed in the dark arts, believe it or not-"

"-oh I believe it-"

"-and," he continued, ignoring her interjection. "I know he will do just fine as a fill in. I understand how heavy this all must be for you. I'd really like to talk more about…" his demeanor shifted and he looked less forced now. As his shoulders relaxed, Emeline found her guard crumbling and the kindness she was used to him having shining through once more. He smiled painfully. "Your mother. Your mourning and processing. I do worry about you, Emeline. I don't pretend to believe we can play happy family forever without these conversations; and many others, I'm sure."

Emeline noted how much heavier he was leaning on his cane already and settled into an uncomfortable silence while feeling terribly sorry for just how mentally and physically taxing the moon was even before transformation. I suppose she imagined the societal scorn but not as much the true pain.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to push you either." He tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.

"No, you haven't pushed me. Not at all. Here." She grabbed his free arm and pulled him over to one of the vintage bench seats that was outside their golden toned dormitory door. "You shouldn't have pushed yourself."

He smiled warmly at her and shook his head.

"No, you deserved to know how this works. I wanted you to be prepared for Professor Snape's lecture. Sometimes he doesn't take too kindly to me and I have a feeling he's been antsy to make it into my classroom for reasons that go beyond a love for dark arts." He sighed and leaned back into the bench. "However, Dumbledore backs him as do I still. Thank you for your kindness, Emeline. That is something I don't deserve."

"This was mostly out of your control. I can't find it in my heart to shun my only family left."

He opened his mouth to speak, but they were broken from their conversation by students flooding the halls. The first class of the day was through.

Remus gripped his cane tightly and pulled himself to stand, gently declining her extended hand to help.

"I will speak to Professor Flitwick. And I will see you in two days." He turned but she quickly interrupted once more.

"Wait, Professor."

Turning back to her, he prompted her with a nod. She lowered her voice to that faint mutter again for only him to hear.

"Where do you go exactly?"

"That's a conversation for another day. But Madame Pomfrey has always cared for me exceptionally. Don't miss your second class of the day, Miss Whitticker."

[whaleofatjme1920]

The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says “yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 3

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC

Part 1 ; Part 2

Part 3 -

Music was blasting in the boys’ cabin and John B made sure to keep the lights dimmed to a maximum, adding to what he referred to as ‘the groovy ambiance’. Caroline and Sarah entered the cabin, leading the way for all of their fellow girl counselors. Word spread faster than a wildfire around the Wildcat Lodge and now everyone was attending what was meant to be a welcoming party for just the boys. Caroline leaned against the ladder of one of the bunk beds and crossed her arms as her and Sarah waited in anticipation for their grand scheme to play out.

“Caroline, Sarah!” John B’s voice alerted them as he snuck up between them, hooking an arm around both their shoulders, “Right on time for the big surprise!” he said, walking dramatically towards what the girls already knew to be his luggage. He turned the music down on his way there, “Alright everybody, listen up!” he said, stopping by his bed, gathering everyone’s attention, “I’m sure to most of us, if not all of us – camp Willowdale is a token of light, a beacon of faith, an ode to nostalgia, if you will,” he spoke dramatically, waving his hands around, making Caroline and Sarah chuckle, “Which is why we have all gathered here tonight, and for that reason, I have done my due diligence and prepared a special surprise for all of us. Girls and boys, allow me to introduce to you,” his hands went to unzip the bag, “Ton-” his eyes widened in horror as he unzipped the bag, revealing it to be totally empty, except for his scarce clothes and the limp body of what appeared to be a dead owl at the bottom.

Everyone around him seemed either disappointed or confused as he frantically ran around the room, looking for his alcohol stash. Caroline and Sarah, however, gasped at the sight before them.

“Shit,” muttered Sarah, “What the hell is that? When I said I was hoping there wouldn’t be animals in there I didn’t think there’d actually be animals in there…”

Caroline shook her head, “Screw what it is! The real question is – who put it there?”

The girls were so focused on their conversation they barely noticed JJ showing up, “You girls know anything about this?” he said, making both of them jump.

“JJ!” Caroline said, trying to mask all sense of worry in her voice, “How could we possibly know anything about this?”

“We did it,” said Sarah quickly, “We stole the alcohol, but we swear to God we have no idea who put that pigeon in there!”

“Sarah!” hissed Caroline, only making Sarah shrug.

“What?” the girl said, “If there’s some psycho playing tricks on us, we might as well have a guy on our side!”

JJ raised an eyebrow, a small smile spreading on his face, “You’re telling me you two are behind this?”, he said, looking at Caroline impressed, “Gee, Carrie, didn’t picture you to be the bad type,”

Caroline’s cheeks heated up immediately as Sarah rolled her eyes and turned to look at JJ, “Earth to Maybank, are you listening to me? We only stole the booze, we didn’t put that in there!”

“Relax, girls,” said JJ, “Knowing John B, that little fucker probably sat dead at the bottom of his bag for a while before you even got to the alcohol,”

Caroline and Sarah both scrunched their noses in disgust, however what JJ was saying did make sense.

“You’re probably right,” sighed Caroline, “Booze is in our storage room, me and Sarah will go fetch it now,” she said, pulling Sarah out of the cabin.

“Are you crazy?” Sarah hissed at her, “Do you really want to give them all that alcohol back? Jesus, Carrie, how the hell do you expect me to last all summer sober? It’s bad enough I have to bunk with Madison Hague…”

“Relax, Sarah, I’m sure there’s gonna be a handful of teenagers with secret stashes of alcohol just waiting to be confiscated,”

Sarah sighed in relief, “You’re totally right, C,” she said, shaking her head as they walked the few steps up to their cabin’s door, “We’re just gonna rob our teens! What could possibly go wrong?”

As she said that and pressed onto the door handle, an ear-piercing scream echoed through the forest, making the hairs on the back of her arm stand.

“What was that?!” she quickly turned to Caroline, who was just as frozen as she was. Counselors started coming out of the boys’ cabin, the music dying down again suddenly. JJ and John B quickly made their way towards the girls, both visibly concerned.

“Are you alright?” said JJ.

Caroline nodded, crossing her arms, “I am, but whoever’s in there doesn’t sound like they are,” she said, tilting her head in the direction of the thick forest from where the scream came.

By this point, Pricilla and the rest of the head staff appeared from the staff lodge, all looking slightly tipsy as they paced through the path to the counselors’ cabins.

“What in the world is going on here?” Pricilla said, trying not to slur her words.

“Sounds like we should be asking you the same thing,” John B muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from JJ.

“Our guess is as good as yours, Miss P,” explained Topper, shrugging, “We were all hanging out in there when we heard the scream and came out,”

“Well whose was it?” enquired Pricilla, looking slightly annoyed that her night had to be cut short for these teenagers’ shenanigans. When no one could give her an answer, she rolled her eyes and waved them over, “Come on then, off to Wildcat Lodge. We’re gonna have to do a count,”

Once everyone was gathered in the lodge, Pricilla waited for Mrs. Darbyshire, who also seemed a bit too drunk to be taking any of this seriously, to bring her a list of all the counselors’ names.

“Alright,” she said once the list was in her hands, “I’m gonna do a name call. Once we figure out who’s missing, you’re gonna go into that forest and look for them.” This earned her a bunch of annoyed comments and groans, making Pricilla snap back, “Don’t give me that shit, you lost ‘em, now you gotta find ‘em.”

“This is bullshit,” Caroline crossed her arms, “We’re literally minors, what are they gonna do?”

“They’re gonna finish their party,” interjected JJ.

Caroline shook her head in annoyance as Pricilla started reading out everyone’s names one by one.

“Jenna Kinley?”

“Here!”

“Kelce Johnson?”

“Here.”

“Barry Smith?”

“S’up.”

“Madison Hague?”

No answer.

This made Pricilla stand up straighter, looking around the pool of counselors in front of her, “Madison are you here?” when there was no reply yet again, she sighed loudly, “Has anyone seen Madison?”

“Last time I saw her, she said she was going to the girls’ cabin to pick up a jacket,” chimed in Topper.

“Oh, for the love of-” Pricilla groaned loudly, “This better not be a stupid prank, or I swear!”

“I should’ve just given her one of my jackets…” muttered Topper, “Now I feel kinda guilty,”

“Hey, it’s alright,” said Caroline, tapping him on the shoulder, “I’m sure she only saw a bug or something,”

“I trust you’ll all disperse and look for your friend now,” said Pricilla, “In the meantime, us adults will be supervising the Wildcat Lodge,”

“Supervising from what?” asked JJ confused.

“In case… Madison comes back here, of course!” Pricilla quickly lied, “Now off you go, Maybank, you ask way too many questions!”

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

“This is ridiculous,” moaned Sarah after bouncing down the stairs of the girls’ cabin with a bag on her arm, “As if this summer couldn’t get any worse,”

“Pipe it, princess,” bit back JJ, “If you didn’t insist on stopping by the cabin before we went into the woods, maybe we’d have called it a night by now.”

“Don’t big yourself too much, Maybank,” she said, leading their pack into the trees and looking around to see whether the coast was clear, “You see, while you were moping around outside, I picked up some provisions,” she said, a devilish smirk spreading on her face as she pulled out a bottle of whiskey from her bag.

Caroline’s jaw nearly broke off, “Sarah, are you serious?”

Sarah only shrugged, “What? I told you I’m not gonna make it through tonight sober, besides, if I’m gonna be looking for the bitch I was hoping wouldn’t be here in the first place, I’d rather be shit-faced when I find her,”

Caroline rolled her eyes, snatching the bottle from Sarah’s hands, “Yeah, well, if I’m going to be looking for the bitch with you, I’d rather be shit-faced too,” she said, taking a rather large swig of the alcohol and hissing at the taste.

“Sweet,” said JJ, picking the bottle up from Caroline, “This is better than the party,”

John B agreed as he got hold of the bottle last.

The group walked through the forest, flashlights in hand, taking the whiskey bottle in turns and laughing as they went. John B had argued that if Sarah could pick something from her cabin, then he could pick his speaker from his, and so the four of them found themselves nearing the clearance by the lake, drunk and singing along to some cheesy song that was currently playing loud enough for only them to hear.

“It’s a good thing Pricilla wanted us here a day early,” slurred John B slightly, “Now you girls have set up the bonfire area and we can chill there,”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Yeah, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

John B raised an eyebrow and turned to Caroline, “What’s she talking about?”

Just as Caroline was about to answer, they reached the bonfire area, which much to her dismay – had been totally wrecked, once again.

“This,” she said, anger quickly replacing the previous buzz she was feeling from the alcohol.

“Whoa, who did this?” said JJ, flashing his flashlight in the direction of the discarded logs and pillows.

“What do you mean who did this?” snapped Sarah, “Why’d you think we stole your alcohol?”

“Sarah, we didn’t do this,” John B shook his head.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, her face becoming slightly worried “What do you mean you didn’t do this? Then who did?”

“Guys,” Caroline chimed in from across the bonfire area, where the fire was supposed to be lit the following night, “Come check this out,”

The three teens made their way towards Caroline who was flashing her light at one of the rocks at the base of the fire pit. There was something written on it with a gooey substance the origin of which none of them wanted to question.

“I don’t know who did it, but whoever it was,” said Caroline, stepping back from the rock so that her friends could see what was written more clearly on it, “Probably did this, too.”

And there on the rock, written with what looked an awfully lot like blood, were plastered four words:

Come and find me

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

Part 4 here x

A/N: Finally something is happening haha I hope you're enjoying so far, let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist, please notify me! Story is about to get juicy from now on hehehe

Link to masterlist here. xxxx

taglist: @k-k0129

[willowbird]

prompt: aaron had a slight ED that he developed as a kid and is now being noticeable to the rest of the foxes even andrew and nicky kinda knew he forgot to eat but the stress from school and exy makes it worse....

I could easily expand on this and maybe one day I will. It hits kinda close to home tho so I’m going to err on the side of brevity just for my own mental space. Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is what you’re looking for ❤️ ❤️ Take care of yourselves!

Warnings for depression, eating disorder. 

Edit: this has been expanded and can also be found on my ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3

-----

Wednesday | 6:04am

The alarm was screaming. 

Its cries crashed against his senses like sea-storm waves and Aaron was without shelter. The sound had been crowding him for four minutes now, and he still couldn't lift a hand to make it stop -- even though he was perfectly aware and wide awake. He wanted to stop the sound, he needed the quiet back, but for whatever reason his hand just wouldn't listen to his brain no matter how many times he willed it to move. 

Aaron hated days like this.

Wednesday | 8:43am

Nicky slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, a grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back like a low-budget greaser, halfway between wet and just damp. They’d just finished morning practice and he, Nicky, and Kevin were waiting out in the player’s lobby for Neil and Andrew to finish showering and changing so they could leave.

“Aw man, I am hungry. Please tell me that Andrew and Neil are gonna finish up soon so that we can go get a real breakfast.” Nicky's whining was easy enough to ignore most of the time, but today Aaron was tired and his patience was thin. He had three tests to study for, two essays to write, they had a game coming up on Friday, and Aaron didn't have the bandwidth for Nicky, too.

He shruged his cousin off with a snort. "I'm just gonna hitch a ride to the library." There were still a few hours before his first class of the day, and he needed to use that time for something productive.

"Aww, c'mon Aaron come to breakfast with us! We'll drop you at the library when we're done. It won't take too long!"

"What won't take too long?" When Aaron looked over, he saw Neil and Andrew coming out of the locker room, clean and changed.

"Breakfast!" Nicky announced. "Neil, tell Aaron to join us! It's a family breakfast -- he should be there!"

"You can't just label things "family" events as a way to require people to be there," Kevin said with a long-suffering sigh. Even so, Aaron noticed he already had the menu of their usual breakfast joint pulled up on his phone. The pictures of pancakes topped with glistening syrup and fluffy omelets made his stomach clench in an unpleasant way.

Aaron looked away.

"I've got a shit to do," he said. That would be his final word on it, and to demonstrate, Aaron turned to head toward the doors.

Except Andrew had moved to block him, though Aaron hadn't registered when his twin had circled them. Aaron frowned, lifting his chin in challenge.

Andrew just studied him for a long moment before looking just past Aaron, gaze darting over his shoulder to the others behind him. He lifted a hand and a second later a slim object snapped into it. When Andrew then held it out to him, Aaron saw it was a granola bar.

A quick glance over his shoulder exposed the granola bar thrower as Kevin, who was zipping his backpack shut. They matched gazes briefly and Kevin nodded toward the granola bar in Andrew's hand.

"If you aren't going to come to breakfast with us make sure you get something on your way to the library."

Aaron glared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. Andrew just looked at him, expression blank, and continued to hold out the damn granola bar like he could stand there all day without a care in the world.

A flash of resentment boiled through him. Of course Andrew could stand there so fucking unbothered. Barely anything affected him at all.

With an annoyed huff, Aaron snatched the bar out of Andrew's hand and shoved it into his pocket before stalking out of the building.

Wednesday | 1:15pm

Katelyn ❤️ (13:15): Hey baby! Prof Dixon bailed again ~ you free?

Aa. Min. (13:15): McCallister's?

Katelyn ❤️ (13:16): See u in 5! 😘

Wednesday | 1:23pm

Aaron stood inside the confused cacophony that was McCallister's, an on-campus restaurant that was the love child of a deli and a pub but four times too big, regretting his choices.

It wasn't even the noise that was bothering him the most. It was the smell.

Aaron took two steps into the restaurant and his stomach roiled. It twisted and tightened, curling in on itself in disgust at the sharp, slimy stench of cold cut deli meat cushioned on a waft of double-baked potatoes that filled the restaurant like wildfire's haze. He and Katelyn met here for lunch two or three times a week when their schedules lined up. They both liked the food and they had several corner booths where they could hide in and study together after eating. It was one of their favorite places. But right now, Aaron was fighting not to gag. 

“Aaron!” Relief warred with dread at the sound of Katelyn’s voice and he hastily plastered on an imitation of the smile he usually didn’t even have to think about, that always rose to his lips whenever she was around all on its own. It didn’t today, but for Katelyn he could make the effort. For Katelyn, Aaron could do anything. 

He turned around once that smile was fixed in place and wrapped his arms around her when she joined him, indulging in a quick kiss that soothed some of the nausea churning in his gut. When they broke apart, Aaron turned to lead them toward their usual booth but Katelyn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Babe is everything alright?” Worry painted a crease between her eyebrows, her mouth drawn down as she studied him. 

Most days, Katelyn’s concern warmed him. It made him feel seen and loved and cherished. Today it put a slash of anxiety through his lungs, breath seeping out through the cut and concaving his chest under the weight of her scrutiny. 

Aaron arranged his smile into something tired and unalarmed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long week, y’know?”

Katelyn hummed like she wasn’t sure she believed him but was deciding to trust him anyway, then she smiled and she released his arm only to take his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Alright, then let’s get some lunch and shut out the rest of the world for at least a little bit, yeah?”

The smell of the restaurant was still choking him and even his skin felt tight. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was stay there another second, let alone the hour he had until he needed to think about heading to his next class.

“I’m so sorry Kate, I’ve got to meet with the TA for my history class. I remembered right after I texted you but I still wanted to see you so I figured I’d just tell you when you got here.” He offered an apologetic smile and did his best to ignore the way guilt was now mixing uncomfortably well with the sick already sloshing around in his stomach. Aaron did not like lying to Katelyn, it felt wrong. But he also couldn’t... he couldn’t explain what was wrong with him right now -- not because he didn’t know, but because he was sure explaining it was going to make him sound crazy and that was just the last thing he needed right now. It was better to slip away, go somewhere he could focus on homework or something and just... wait for it to pass.

Katelyn’s expression fell, flashing disappointment, then a sad understanding as she nodded. “Of course. It’s okay babe, really. I’m just glad I got to see you at all.” She smiled then -- that bright, warm, just-for-him smile that always had Aaron’s heart skipping. A small knot of tension loosened in his lower chest, just enough that he was able to take a small breath and offer a more genuine smile of his own in return. 

“I love you,” he told her. 

“I love you too, Aaron. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you later, okay?”

He made no promises before he made his escape, just a smile and a wave.

Wednesday | 3:37pm

The granola bar tasted like ash in his mouth. It felt like there were iron weights attached to his jaw, making it impossible for him to chew. A fist of repulsion locked around his throat, and it was a physical struggle to swallow. 

This was the worst part about days like this.

Aaron knew he had to eat something, because he knew what could happen if he didn’t and the only thing worse than having to put up with feeling this way, dragging himself through the mud of his own psychosis one step, one mile, at a time -- was doing it with everyone watching him struggle. 

So he forced himself through half the granola bar. He knew better than to push for more than that, or all his efforts would be wasted into the nearest trash can.

Wednesday | 7:51pm

Practice had been brutal. It had been so bad that even Nicky hadn’t been able to cheer himself through it and was just as bitter and on edge as the rest of them by the time they hit the showers. 

Aaron sat in the lobby and waited for the others, feeling old. He felt tired. He just wanted these stupid pissing contests to stop and everyone to shut up. He wanted the world to be completely silent, completely empty. Emptiness sounded nice. Sounded peaceful. Sounded right.

The sharp scuff of shoe-rubber against tile had him cringing so hard his shoulders ached and he peeled his eyes open to glare at the source. Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets, blank-faced and too knowing.

Aaron snorted and looked away. 

The couch shifted slightly as Andrew took the spot next to him. There was the soft shk of a blade cutting into something crisp and when Aaron looked over, Andrew was holding out a small sliver of apple. His brother wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other Minyard was dispassionately staring at the tv, which was playing some sports channel that Aaron knew very well Andrew didn’t give a single shit about. 

For a long moment Aaron just stared at the side of his twin’s face, but it was impossible to know what, if anything, he was thinking about. Finally, he looked at the sliver of apple. It was pale, small, unobtrusive. Aaron’s stomach clenched, a mix between hunger and repulsion. All he’d had today was that half a granola bar -- which had been both too much and not enough. His throat tightened as he stared at that innocuous slice of fruit, but he was almost focused more on the hand holding it. His eyes burned and he looked away, but not before taking the slice. 

[riversofmars]

May I propose..River and Missy stumbling upon 13 and immediately both go to flirting w her

My lovely anon, I deeply apologise for how long it has taken me to do this. And I have to confess, this is only part one, it has turned out so long that I’m having to post it in two parts! Plus I’m not quite done with the ending and if I hadn’t split it up, it would have been another couple of days lol.

Anyway, I really hope you like this. As promised, probably not what you expected but I got slightly obsessed with the idea of doing a cyberpunk inspired piece so here you are! Read on AO3 or below :)

At The End Of The Universe

The Doctor locked up the TARDIS, just to be safe. At the end of time, one did not want to get stuck or have one’s means of escape stolen. She had often wondered what it actually was like. The very last day of the universe. She had visited once before, watching from Me’s reality bubble. Me had been watching the stars die and she had called it beautiful and the Doctor had found it sad. Me had insisted that it was both and that that wasn’t something the Doctor could ever understand… She had been right. The people around her always seem to know her better than she knew herself.

Now, she certainly couldn’t find any beauty in this place and, yet she was fascinated. This was it, the last straw, where the last people in the universe had gathered. Admittedly, she wasn't actually sure that was entirely true but these people seemed to think they were so who was she to argue? She was too exhausted to argue and at the end of everything, no-one had time to waste on such technicalities. In approximately twelves hours, death was coming for them all and there was nowhere to run.

The Doctor looked around, taking in the atmosphere. It was getting cold, probably because the nearby star was already dying. There was very little natural light now, not that it would have reached the ground through the thick smog anyway. The only light down here was from the garish neon advertisements and signs.

“I bet this has always been an awful place…“ The Doctor started saying but stopped herself. She was alone. There was no-one to talk to on this particular trip. Ryan, Yaz and Graham were still on Earth. They didn’t even know she had made it off Gallifrey in one piece, or that she had ended up in prison shortly after… And after her escape, she had felt no great need to seek them out. Not yet anyway. Her path had lead her here instead. To the end of the universe, with no companions to talk to, no-one to share the experience with. It was probably better that way, this wasn’t a trip she wanted to be sharing with anyone.

She looked around some more and decided, yes, this really must have been an awful place all along. The sort of world where only the rich and powerful flourish and everyone else cowers in the sewers. The sort of place where law and morality would break down in no time at all as the end of days drew near. The sort of place where people would want to see the universe out in delirium. And people around here have already started. They were singing in the streets, shouting, dancing, laughing, some people are crying whether with it was laughter or hysterical fear.

Those that didn’t have a time machine to escape crunch time were each facing up to the inevitable in their own way. They are incredibly brave, the Doctor thought, braver than she had ever been. She would be frantically searching for a way out and try to run away, she couldn’t deny that. She was so tired of running but she just couldn’t stop. She wished she could just stand still and face what was up ahead, head held high, just for once. But it was like a compulsion, she just had to keep going. It was always just one more adventure… maybe the next one will be the one. Maybe that would be the one that would finally give her some answers. Or closure. Or even some sort of happiness or contentment. Something, anything, to satisfy that urge to keep going. Sometimes, she forgot what she was searching for. She had been going for so long now. What purpose did this particular trip serve? By this point it was probably just to make sense of things. Of herself. Her own existence. Her life. The things that had been done to her. And the things that happened because of her. And to try and forget about them.

She could still see it. Every time she closed her eyes, she was right back in the ruins of Gallifrey. She would feel the burning heat from the flames. She would get a burning in her chest from the smoke. Her eyes would be burning from the dust. Gallifrey was burning her from the inside still. Her memories were eating at her, burning all the walls she’d built to protect myself, the structures that held her up and kept her going. She had no idea how to stop this wildfire. Maybe on her next trip, she’d find a way but now, she was here. At the edge of the universe, at the end of everything. This was not the place where she’d find her answers but maybe she could fight fire with fire for a time. Maybe she could gain a reprieve before the flames engulfed her.

She started to make her way down the street. The music was coming from somewhere up ahead. The bass was so deep, the vibrations were making her shake. She could smell alcohol now, the streets were literally drenched in it, this party had been going on for days. It wasn't just alcohol, there were chemicals, drugs, sweat, vomit, sex… At the end of everything, society, morals, inhibitions, right and wrong, disintegrated right before your eyes. There was no need for such human constructs now. Everyone here was going to die in twelve hours, the Doctor could see why they’d rather be enjoying themselves. The biggest, baddest party of the universe. The last party. On the last planet. In the last hours. No-one could charge and judge you now. What better place to drown one’s sorrows, get perspective and forget for a time?

“Alright lovely? Can we interest you in a good time?“ A young man yelled to her from across the street. There was a group of them, young people who still had so much of their life ahead of them, cut tragically short. Under normal circumstances, the Doctor, or anyone else for that matter, would have kept going, but the Doctor stepped closer.

“What’s your poison?“ She asked, eying the selection of drinks and other substances spread out over the hood of a burned out vehicle.

“By this point, does it really matter?“ One of the lads laughed taking a gulp from a half empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Suppose not.“ The Doctor chuckled and picked up a bottle she at least recognised the brand name of and took a swing. The alcohol burnt her throat. It was pure and disgusting but it was just what she needed. “Mind if I take this?“ She gave the bottle a little shake to indicate what she was talking about. Her question got swallowed up in the deafening noise of an explosion barely a block away. Some people probably got bored of waiting for the end. The Doctor took another swing from the bottle as her eyes fell on some colourful tablets. She picked up a couple, red and blue, turned them between her fingers as if they were smarties. “The red pill or the blue pill…“ She looked up to the group laughing to herself a little. “This would be funny and poignant if The Matrix was still a thing at the end of the universe…“

“You’re not even scared, are you.“ One of the boys grinned, clearly impressed, he stumbled a little, struggling to keep himself upright as he leant forward onto the hood of the vehicle.

“Scared of what?“ The Doctor raised her eyebrows without looking at him. She focused on the pills in her hand. What was the worst that could happen? These people weren’t trying to kill themselves, they were trying to have a good time so this was probably perfectly safe… and if it wasn’t?

“You know… the end. And doing drugs with people you’ve never met before.“ He grinned.

“I’m just here to have a good time.“ She shrugged as she threw both tablets into her mouth like candy and washed them down.

“I can show you a good time.“ He reached out to cup her cheek but misjudged the distance, reaching into nothingness. His friends laughed.

“Maybe later.“ The Doctor chuckled with a wink.

“Don’t keep me waiting all night, it’s not long now.“ He retorted trying his best to hide his disappointment.

“Thanks for this.“ She downed the rest of the bottle as the others cheered her finishing it. She placed the empty bottle back on the make shift table and waved goodbye to them. She only vaguely took notice of the sound of breaking glass as the youngsters smashed her empty bottle just because they could.

She followed the sound of the music as she made her way along the crowded streets, people bumped into her, unaware of their surroundings, in a drug induced haze. The Doctor was beginning to feel the effects herself. Her hearts picked up speed, she felt an indescribable rush, as her brain flooded with dopamine. The colours seemed more vivid, her skin tingled, as if she was seeing, experiencing more than ever before. Some remaining rational part of her brain insisted that these feelings weren’t real, that it was an illusion and that she would pay a price when they wore off but for now, she couldn’t care less.

She followed the sound of the music, the bass running trough her as she descended stairs to a make shift nightclub. It really just looked like a massive warehouse but people were dancing and drinking, jerking to the music, partying to their heart’s content. The Doctor steadied herself against the wall, feeling the effects of the drugs, allowing her senses to be flooded. She smiled to herself, her heart felt lighter, as if a burden was being lifted and only the here and now mattered.

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor Song.“ Missy called over the loud music as she swirled a glass of bourbon. Even at the end of the universe, she insisted on some modicum of class as she watched River Song emerging from the flurry of dancing bodies. She felt a tingle in her hand as regenerative energy started oozing out of her fingertips and she balled her fist, forcing the process to a halt, yet again. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to keep it at bay but she intended to have a good time before giving in to inevitable. She pushed her hand into her pocket, hoping River hadn’t noticed as she returned her attention to her.

River wiped her brow, her tank top was sticking to her with sweat but she didn’t care, she was enjoying herself. She recognised Missy immediately, leaning against the counter set up along the side of the massive underground warehouse. She couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, of all the people she could possibly encounter at the end of the universe, it was the Master. Lightheaded and thirsty, her ears ringing with the sheer volume of the music, she made her way over to her.

“Well, this is the biggest party in the known universe.“ River winked at her as she came to a halt next to her and reached behind the makeshift bar. It astounded her that some people had actually gone through the trouble of providing these comforts, wasting what precious time they had left on setting up a bar. The counter top was covered in dirty glasses and half empty bottles, she decided it was safer to go for what was behind the bar instead. She couldn’t really expect anyone to bar tend at this point.

“Without the husband, I see?“ Missy raised her eyebrows.

“We’re not joined at the hip. We are modern like that.“ River retorted retrieving a bottle of whisky.

“Allow me.“ Missy offered her one of the few clean-ish glasses she had been able to find. “We don’t have to behave like animals, Timeladies such as ourselves.“

“I could’t agree more.“ River took the glass offered to her and poured a drink for herself. “So what brings you here?“ She eyed her over the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

“Where else would I go to kick back and soak up the atmosphere?“ Missy smirked as she looked around the makeshift nightclub, illuminated only by strobe lighting and neon.

She neglected to mention the fact that she was dying and wanted to enjoy one last night of chaos in this body. She had grown rather fond of this lady version. The annoying thing was that she didn’t even remember who or what had killed her. It was such a blur. The last thing she remembered was the Doctor wanting her to play a stupid game and for her to save some people, prove that she could be good. And now here she was without the Doctor and dying. He was bound to be responsible. Which was a real shame as she had actually enjoyed spending time with her childhood friend again… all this effort for nothing. All she remembered was lying in the middle of a forrest, her body starting to fizz with generation energy when she had almost believed it wouldn’t happen this time around. It brought her back from the brink of death and she had halted the process, keeping it at bay by sheer force of will. She wasn’t done being Miss just yet. One more adventure…

She pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked back at River. “I mean, just look around. The confusion, the chaos, the imminent death… isn't it exhilarating? You can smell the fear and the desperation on them…“ She grinned as she took a sip. “How about you?“

“I think I just saw my husband for the last time.“ River retorted, keeping her emotions out of her voice. She was determined not to overthink it too much. She had come here to lose herself in the here and now and stop her mind going in endless circles. She took a gulp of her drink, though it didn’t do much to quench her thirst from dancing.

“Is that so? What happened? Did you actually kill him at last fighting over the remote control in domestic bliss?“ Missy raised her eyebrows in amusement. She knew the last time the Doctor had been with his wife was enjoying domestic bliss on Darillium. That had been in the Doctor’s past when she had last been with him but apparently for River, that time had only just come to an end.

“Oh, he’s quite alive as far as I know. Sorry to disappoint.“ River chuckled. “But by some accounts that was the last night we spent together… who knows, we’ll see. Either way, I needed a distraction.“

“You know, I think you and I could have a great time together.“ Missy smirked leaning in closer. What was the harm really? It wasn’t like there would be any witnesses and there was a certain appeal in seducing her arch nemesis’s wife.

“Is that so.“ River took another sip of her drink.

“Absolutely.“ Missy twirled her fingers into River’s curls.

“Two psychopaths, that would not end well.“ River was drunk but not that drunk. Jumping into bed with the Master was a bad idea and she knew it. “Better not…“ She looked around the room and noticed a petite blonde making her way down the stairs into the club. She steadied herself against the wall, clearly intoxicated, but so was everyone else in this place. River instantly liked the look of her and she was probably a far safer bet than Missy. “You have yourself a good night.“ River downed the rest of her drink and placed the glass back on the counter before turning to leave.

“Oh, I see.“ Missy raised her eyebrows following River’s gaze. Most people in this place had turned into mindless junkies with poor body hygiene over the last few days, so the blonde stood out immediately. She was a pretty one too, innocent, soft features, she probably didn’t even know what she was doing here.

“Enjoy the end of the universe, I know I will.“ River shot Missy a grin over her shoulder as she headed straight for the new arrival. “Hello, lovely, looking for something in particular? Or someone?“ She stepped into her path, demanding her attention. The blonde jumped, clearly startled, she looked up at River with big eyes, struggling for a response.

“How original.“ Missy huffed at River and pushed past her, deciding there was no reason why she should just let River have her. “Are you lost, dear? Need someone to show you around?“

“Go away now.“ River gave Missy’s shoulder a shove.

“We could always, you know, share?“ Missy winked at River who rolled her eyes.

“I saw her first.“ River shot back, squabbling with Missy until the blonde finally found her voice.

“Of course, why the fuck not.“ The Doctor started giggling to herself looking in between the two women in front of her. Of course her brain would do this to her. Why not. The woman that betrayed her and the woman she had abandoned. Her brain was so cruel. She thought the drugs were meant to make her feel good, not give shape to her emotional trauma. “I haven’t got time for this…“ She walked past River and Missy who exchanged confused looks.

“Have we met?“ River asked catching up with her.

“That’s a great pick up line.“ Missy huffed sarcastically. “What better thing could you possibly have to do at the end of the universe?“ She stepped into the Doctor’s way, obviously not recognising her.

“I just want to have a good time, not to talk to myself.“ The Doctor snapped over the sound of the music. She looked around, wondering what to do next.

“Talk to yourself?“ River frowned confused. The girl was probably not thinking straight, her pupils were dilated and she was unsteady on her feet.

“That’s what you are, right? Manifestations of my subconscious? Hallucinations? Shitty street corner drugs…“ The Doctor huffed.

“I can assure you, dear, I’m very real.“ River gave it another go but was getting the impression that this might be a lost cause.

“You can’t be real, River, both of you are dead.“ The Doctor shot back in annoyance. Why was she even arguing with her?

“What…“ River felt her stomach lurch, her hearts skipped a beat. How did this woman know her name? A chance encounter at the end of time… how was that possible? And she knew Missy, too? There was only one person, apart from the Master, who would be capable of coming here and who would know her name…

“What is this? A guilt trip?“ The Doctor laughed bitterly. “I’m trying to run away from my bullshit, not confront it.“ She shook her head and made her way behind the bar searching for a bottle of something strong. Missy and River looked at each other and followed slowly. Neither of them wanted to say it but they both thought the same thing. But how was that possible?

“Doctor…“ River said softly stepping closer. It was becoming painfully obvious. It was the only plausible explanation and the random selection of clothes should have been a giveaway. If this was the Doctor, she had to be from their future… far, far into their future. River had never seen this regeneration of her husband - well, wife? And by the look on Missy’s face, neither had she. The thought turned River’s stomach. What had happened to her? For her to turn up here, drunk, high, utterly out of her mind, clearly thinking she was hallucinating. How far into their future was she for both of them to be dead to her?

“Don’t. Don’t even.“ The Doctor laughed and shook her head to herself. “Don’t even say my name like that.“ She confirmed their suspicion as she picked up the bottle of whiskey River had just poured from.

“Doctor, get ourself together.“ Missy said sternly, she wouldn’t admit to it but she was just as unsettled as River appeared to be. What had been fun and games a minute ago, suddenly turned very serious. What was she doing here? When had he - she - regenerated again? The last time she had seen the Doctor he had been perfectly fine then. This Doctor, however, seemed utterly broken.

[goosewhisker]

dog days

read on fanfiction.net || read on ao3

happy birthday @xbloodywhalex

hawkleaf is great & makes much more sense in canon than leafcrow fight me

It starts like this:

Hawkfrost fights with Mothwing.

This is not something unusual. As siblings, they disagree all the time, particularly when Mothwing is irritated by one of Hawkfrost's more... ambitious ideas. This time, though, is more vicious. Probably it's the stress; after all, everyone's on edge with all four clans huddled together in one camp, having left behind friends and family and loved ones and the only home they've ever known to be ravaged by Twolegs beyond all recognition. The leaders are fighting constantly and no one's quite sure where they're headed or whether or not they'll even get there.

So yeah, it's been stressful. Which is why, this time, instead of the normal petty squabbles, it got more personal. Hawkfrost can't even remember what it was about - something stupid, probably - and then he'd said something about her healing skills, and she'd made a snide comment about his chances of becoming deputy, and he'd insinuated that he'd given her her position and could just as easily take it away, and she'd pointed out that he'd bring himself down with her and get them both kicked out and maybe this kind of bullcrap was why Mom had taken off without a backwards look, and-

-well. At that point, he'd stormed off to... recalibrate himself (he was not sulking, no matter what Mothwing said) and, after a few hours of self-reflection, figured that he might have been slightly inflammatory. Not that he'd said anything wrong, just that there were better ways to say it.

Which is why he's out here, wandering around on the fringes of the woods they're currently camping in, looking for a squirrel big enough to make a suitable apology gift.

He's finally found an acceptable squirrel - large, healthy-looking, and plump - when the silence is shattered by a dog's bark.

Hawkfrost goes completely still, cursing furiously, but it's too late; the squirrel has already taken fright and scurried up the nearest tree.

Hawkfrost wants to strangle someone. Preferably this stupid dog.

The dog barks again, and Hawkfrost remembers Riverclan, huddled together helpless and vulnerable not so far away. He should probably go let the leaders know to be watchful... or he could go take care of it himself.

Hawkfrost hasn't had a good fight in ages. The decision is an easy one.

He follows the sound - and it's turned mean and vicious, the sound of a predator closing in on its prey - over two hills and across a small brook. His bloodlust is ramping up the longer he goes without flesh between his claws; he's practically frothing at the mouth with impatience when he emerges into an open clearing and it's there.

Hawkfrost takes in the scene at a glance. The dog is massive, about four times Hawkfrost's height. Its jaw - currently with all its teeth on display as it snarls at whatever prey it's cornered - is big enough to snap him in half if he's caught.

The key word is if.

Warrior life had been hard for Hawkfrost from the start. He doesn't have the social skills to deal with unruly apprentices, the commanding presence to lead his clanmates, the patience to become a great hunter. All that his father had left him was his battle skills, and it's the one area Hawkfrost can indulge the side of him that longs for blood without repercussions. So where another cat might have run for backup, Hawkfrost doesn't think twice about attacking first.

The dog, distracted by its prey, doesn't even notice him until he's already on top of it. Its size works against it here; it bucks wildly, unable to twist around to grab him, as Hawkfrost sinks his teeth into its neck and digs in with his claws.

"Hey!" someone yells, but Hawkfrost is past caring. The dog crashes to the ground, flipping onto its back in an attempt to dislodge him. Hawkfrost springs clear before darting back in again, raking its soft belly with his claws.

Snarling, the dog kicks out with all its feet. One catches Hawkfrost in the stomach, sending him flying into a tree. He's stunned for a heartbeat, which the dog uses to clamber back onto its paws.

With the element of surprise gone, Hawkfrost needs a height advantage. He scrambles clumsily up the tree, hauling himself out of range of the dog's snapping jaws just in time as it stands up on its back legs. He's wondering just how to advance now - those massive teeth make any attack from above an uninviting prospect - when a small brown figure launches itself at the dog's heels.

The dog makes a short, confused noise and looks down, and that's all the opening Hawkfrost needs. Snarling, he drops out of the tree and aims right for the eyes.

The dog fairly screams, jerking away from him, and then screams again when it loses its balance. The brown cat on the ground shoves its paws out from underneath it, and Hawkfrost and the dog together crash to the ground.

Hawkfrost hits the ground hard and something in his stomach tears. Pain shoots through his body and his vision briefly goes black. For a moment, he can't move.

Then a scent like lavender fills his nose, and someone crouches beside him.

"Are you awake?" a voice asks. It's brisk and business-like, with no trace of panic or uncertainty. "If you can, please open your eyes."

Hawkfrost can hardly imagine opening his eyes right now - just lying here sounds like a much better idea - but he manages to squint one open to peer up at this stranger.

It's a golden-eyed she-cat about his age or younger, a brown tabby who looks vaguely familiar. "Good job," she says, smiling kindly. For some reason, she actually sounds like she means it. The thought strikes Hawkfrost as funny. "What're you smiling about?" she asks, but moves on without waiting for an answer. "Do you know who I am?"

After a moment, the name filters into his mind - Leafpaw. Thunderclan medicine cat. Firestar's brat. Mothwing's friend. The one cat who never seems to remember that borders apply to her. "Nn," Hawkfrost says.

The medicine cat hums, leaning forward to peer into his eye. "Could you open the other one, please?" she says. Hawkfrost does. "Concussion. Not good, but it'll have to wait until we get back to camp. Quickly, get on your feet. We need to hurry before it wakes up again."

Somehow, with the medicine cat's help, Hawkfrost struggles onto his paws. Once he's off the ground, his head is still spinning, but he feels a little better.

The medicine cat is pushing him towards the edge of the clearing, in the camp's direction, when he hears a faint snuffling noise. Hawkfrost looks back to see the dog, sprawled out on the ground and clearly starting to wake up. Even through the spinning, he knows what needs to be done. He's already changed direction to go finish it off permanently when the medicine cat rams her head into his collarbone.

"What are you doing," she whisper-shrieks. "It's waking up, we need to get back to camp!"

Hawkfrost doesn't get a chance to respond before she resumes pushing and somehow, he can't stop her. Maybe he's in shock that someone actually talked back to him like that. Or maybe he's delirious from blood loss and the concussion. Whatever.

Either way, they're already out of the clearing and halfway up the next hill when the dizziness clears enough that he remembers what he was going to do. "Hey, wait a minute, we need to go back!"

The medicine cat stares at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You stopped me from killing that dog," Hawkfrost snaps. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders why he's bothering to explain at all. "I need to go back and kill it before it follows us to the clans."

The medicine cat actually rolls her eyes. Hawkfrost gasps, offended. "We barely winded that thing; if we'd stayed any longer it would've killed us. I -" she stops abruptly. "Quick. Back here."

Before he can react, she shoves him into a shallow hollow beneath a rocky outcropping and then follows herself. It's dark, and cramped, and then the medicine cat squeezes in beside him and the contact makes Hawkfrost go rigid with embarrassment.

Outside, a snuffling noise echoes against the rocks. The dog has recovered, then, and is looking for them. They can't go back to camp now without it following them. Hawkfrost thinks of the animal loose amongst the vulnerable elders and kits and winces.

And then he's distracted, because the medicine cat flinches and squeezes in further against Hawkfrost. Her soft warm side presses up against his, and it's been a long time since he's really touched someone other than Mothwing so the sensation is sending him haywire and wow, actually she smells really nice -

Hawkfrost's brain short-circuits.

When it reboots, they're so close together that his face is practically buried in her scruff, and all he can hear is the quiet thumping of her heartbeat and the snuffling of the dog outside. Hawkfrost closes his eyes and tries not to breathe too deep.

The scent of lavender is almost overwhelming.

After a few, breathless moments, the sniffing fades as the dog's path turns away. The medicine cat relaxes and pulls away, leaving Hawkfrost's pelt feeling cold and staticky where her warm fur had touched it.

"I think the dog's gone," she says, peering outside.

"Hnn," Hawkfrost manages. He is not thinking about the dog.

"C'mon, let's hurry. We need to warn the leaders."

Hawkfrost stumbles after her, head spinning. The side she'd touched prickles like wildfire, stinging and cooling his skin at turns. How can a few moments of contact have shaken him this badly? Father would be mortified if he knew.

Father. The reminder, at least, snaps him back into rationality. Tigerstar would be so mortified if he could see his son now. Hawkfrost stops and shakes his head wildly to clear it. Focus on the dog. Right. When he looks up again, the medicine cat is watching him. "What is it?" he asks, torn between irritation and embarrassment.

"Oh." The medicine cat looks away quickly. "It's nothing, just - your ears were red."

Hawkfrost stares at her and feels the tips of his ears rush with heat. Ducking his head, he mumbles "oh," and hurries after her.

At the very least, the medicine cat seems just as embarrassed as he is, because she keeps up a steady stream of nervous chatter the whole way.

Most of her jabber washes right over him, blending into a pleasant, even current of sound. She has a nice voice, one that trips pleasingly over the words and makes even the simplest language sound beautiful on her tongue. His eyes are half closed, just listening to the rising and falling of her voice when he realizes that she's looking at him expectantly. "What," he says belatedly.

"My name's Leafpaw," she says, in a tone that implies she's said this once or twice already. "I don't think I ever told you."

"Oh." It takes him a moment to realize what she's waiting for. "I'm Hawkfrost." He's pretty sure she already knows this, but whatever.

Her beaming smile tells him he's guessed right. "Thank you for saving me from that dog, Hawkfrost," she says. "I was collecting herbs and it came out of nowhere. It cornered me before you showed up."

Hawkfrost hadn't been thinking about saving her - hadn't even noticed she was there, really. But the praise makes his pelt prickle in a nice way, so he ducks his head and tries to ignore the way his ears burn. "It's nothing, I- you're welcome," he says. It feels terribly inadequate.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice is asking him she's Firestar's daughter, an enemy, why do you care if it's inadequate? Hawkfrost pushes it aside. He doesn't really, he's just being polite, okay?

Leafpaw beams and trots nearer to walk beside him, nudging his shoulder with her nose. "I think we made a pretty good team out there," she says. "Wouldn't you-" she stops abruptly, nose twitching. "Oh!"

Hawkfrost watches, bemused, as she drops low to the ground to peer at his stomach. "You're bleeding!" she cries.

"It kicked me," he points out.

"I didn't realize!" She looks stricken, and something in his heart clenches.

"It doesn't hurt that much," he assures her before remembering that he's not supposed to be worried about her feelings. "I mean, it didn't- you're-" he fumbles his sentences, the words slipping away. Luckily, Leafpaw doesn't seem to notice.

"My supplies are all at camp, so I can't do much here, but we can at least keep it from getting infected," she says, and then she leans forward and-

For the second time today, Hawkfrost's brain short-circuits.

"What are you doing," he yelps (definitely not a shriek), springing back.

Leafpaw looks up at him, confused, with her tongue still poking out. "I'm cleaning it," she points out, but Hawkfrost isn't really listening.

"You licked me," he says, uncomprehending.

Leafpaw stares at him with wide eyes before blushing bright red. "Don't- don't make this weird!" she stammers. "It's a perfectly normal medicine cat thing to do!"

"You licked me," he repeats. Hawkfrost's brain is trapped en loop, cycling back again and again to the point where he'd felt her tongue on his skin.

"For medical reasons!" Leafpaw's entire face is completely red. From the way his own face is burning, Hawkfrost is sure he matches. "I'm disinfecting your wound! I'm a medicine cat! I'm not- I can't just- oh, just get over here and let me treat you."

"Just... disinfecting," Hawkfrost repeats. Stars, he sounds like a broken record. Leafpaw nods, still blushing to the tips of her ears. "Ah. Right. I... I knew that." He sits down and lets Leafpaw get to work, and they both pretend they aren't as flustered as they feel. Hawkfrost shivers when she touches his skin and Leafpaw makes a high-pitched noise that could be termed a squeak. After that, though, her licks are careful but clinical and when she finally pulls away they can't meet each other's eyes.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Hawkfrost coughs. "Maybe we should hurry back to camp," he mutters.

"Um! Right!" Leafpaw very carefully does not look at him and instead launches into a fresh stream of inane babble to distract them both as they walk. It doesn't quite take away the tinge of pink on her ears.

The arrival at camp is somehow both a relief and a disappointment at the same time. Leopardstar takes one look at the two of them and immediately calls Mothwing over, status reports be damned, and Leafpaw is dragged off by her father to do... whatever it is Thunderclanners do. He doesn't even get a chance to say goodbye (not that he'd want to, obviously. He's just pointing it out).

Hawkfrost watches her go, with her father's tail draped over her shoulders, and feels a sting of jealousy somewhere deep inside.

He's not sure which one of them he envies more.

"Must be nice, huh?"

Hawkfrost almost jumps out of his skin and whips around, claws unsheathed, to see his sister gazing after Leafpaw wistfully.

"To have parents that actually care about you," she adds, as though he hadn't figured that out already.

Hawkfrost scowls and wills his heart to stop pounding so hard. "First of all, don't sneak up on me like that. And second, Father does care about us. You'd know that if you agreed to meet with him," he says quietly.

Mothwing looks at him with an odd expression that he can't quite decipher before she says, "Whatever you say, Hawkfrost. Show me where it hurts."

Under normal circumstances, he'd bristle with rage at the dismissal and insist they finish the conversation now, regardless of eavesdropping onlookers or his already-tenuous place in the clan. But today, he's so off-kilter that he lets his sister get on with it without a fuss. As further proof of his encroaching insanity, he even apologizes.

"Sorry about what I said earlier," he mutters. "It was... out of line. I shouldn't have said it."

Mothwing actually drops her cobwebs and steps back to look at him, probably wondering if he's lost his mind, which is not entirely unlikely at this point. After a moment, though, her expression breaks into a sad little half-smile that does something weird to his heart. Almost like it's not supposed to be there, or like he should make it better.

I really am going insane, he thinks in horror. That frog-brained medicine cat apprentice did something to my head.

"Thank you," his sister says. "I shouldn't- I'm sorry for what I said about Mom. You know she didn't leave because of you, right?"

His mouth goes dry and for a moment, he forgets how to talk. "Yeah," he says belatedly, because Mothwing's staring at him now and her eyes are doing the dumb worried thing. He's a full-grown warrior; he doesn't need to be worried about, darnit, and especially not for something pathetic like this.

He's still thinking about it in the makeshift medicine cat den later that night. It's not that he thinks it's his fault, specifically, that Sasha had dumped them both off. Father's already told him everything - she was a cold-hearted rogue who used cats up and ditched them when she was done. So Sasha was a terrible cat to begin with.

But... she'd been pretty blasé about ditching her kits the first chance she'd gotten, and from what he's observed, mothers are supposed to be more attached to their children than that.

So it's definitely a problem with her, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of a problem with them, and given the way Mothwing seems to collect friends like fleas, it doesn't seem to be a them problem anyway.

As always, it comes down to Hawkfrost in the end.

People have always seemed more inclined to leave him behind, no matter what he does - he's either too weak or too strong, too soft or too cold. Too little Clan blood or too much. Mothwing's been able to carve something of a place for herself, here, but Hawkfrost's has always been fragile. He's heard the things people say about him, seen the way they stare. Too much of his father in him- as though his father isn't the only one who's ever bothered to see his potential. Everyone else is too busy leaving him behind.

Just look at the way the medicine cat had fled, once she'd gotten the chance.

Hawkfrost buries his face underneath his paws and tries to will the medicine cat to leave his mind, with middling success.

He's halfway through mentally reciting the different breeds of fish that live in the river when he hears something move outside the den.

In a heartbeat, he's on his paws, hunched over in a battle crouch. His wound protests painfully, but he pushes the pain aside. For a blind, panicked moment, he thinks the dog has come back, and is waiting just outside.

Then he smells lavender, and his hackles go down of their own accord.

A moment later, Leafpaw steals into the den, glancing furtively over her shoulder. "Don't freak out, it's me. I brought- oh, Hawkfrost!" Her brow furrows when she catches sight of the fresh stains seeping onto his bandages, and Hawkfrost's heart skips a beat.

"It's fine," he says quickly.

Leafpaw doesn't bother dignifying that with a reply. He can almost hear her fuming as she strips, cleans, and re-binds the wound (so, so gently - her paws feel like dandelion fluff). "Don't say it's fine when you're clearly bleeding all over the place, mousebrain," she says.

Hawkfrost tries not to fidget as she pulls the cobwebs tighter. "Mothwing fixed it already... I opened it when you came back," he explains. The thought strikes him abruptly - she'd gone, yes, but she hadn't left him. "You came back," he says again, wonderingly.

"Of course I did!" Leafpaw blinks, golden eyes wide with shock. "You saved me, I'm not going to just forget that. Even if we haven't gotten along so well in the past. And on that note, um..." she trails off, eyes skating to the side and teeth nibbling her bottom lip.

Nervous. Hawkfrost identifies the reaction automatically, but for the life of him can't imagine what it's for.

"I... think I may have misjudged you," she says at last in a soft voice. She looks back to him with a sheepish smile and, tentatively, holds out a paw. "Can we start over? I'd like to be friends."

Friends.

She wants to be friends.

Hawkfrost stares down at the outstretched paw and, not for the first time today, finds himself completely at a loss for what to do.

What is it with this strange medicine cat? She knows his parentage, knows that by birthright, he and she are sworn enemies. She's never trusted him - their few run-ins before today have made that clear. It's obvious from the hatred in her sister's eyes that she fully expects him to follow in his father's footsteps (and oh, she has no idea just how right she is-) and he would've expected Leafpaw to share that.

But she's standing before him now, reaching out to him with that painfully naive, painfully kind smile and waiting for him to answer.

The decision, as always, is obvious.

Hawkfrost slowly, gently places his paw on top of her own. "I'd like that," he says quietly.

Leafpaw's answering smile is like the sun. He can hardly stand to look at it. "I need to go now," she says. "Dad wants me to sleep with the clan. But I'll come see you again tomorrow before we leave," she adds fiercely, daring him to defy her.

Hawkfrost blinks and tries to force away the warmth welling up inside his chest. "I'll- I'll see you then," he manages to say.

Leafpaw hesitates, looking like she's wavering on the edge of something. Before Hawkfrost can ask what it is, she abruptly leans forward, swipes a tongue across his ear, and flees from the den without waiting for a response.

... she licked me, is the first, stupid thought his flustered mind can form. And this time, it wasn't for medical purposes.

Hawkfrost whimpers.

He's an idiot. This is a perfect opportunity - the chance to get in close with Firestar's daughter, to gain her trust before he ultimately betrays her and claims his birthright. This is everything his father would want him to take advantage of and more. It's the reason he accepted her stupid request to be friends in the first place - and who even just asks to be friends like that, anyway?

Ridiculous. He's just using her.

So why can't he forget the feeling of her fur against his own, or the kindness in her eyes when she'd wrapped his wound?

Briefly, Hawkfrost considers the merit of beating his head against the floor until he passes out. But then he'd just have to get it fixed again, and Mothwing would scold him or wasting her time, and Leopardstar would shake her head in disappointment, and Leafpaw would look at him with those sad eyes-

Wait, no. Not that last one.

Frog dung.

Hawkfrost squeezes his eyes shut and forcibly ejects all thoughts of the stars-damned medicine cat apprentice. Tonight, he'll see his father again, and maybe by tomorrow, the strange warmth in his chest whenever he thinks of her will be gone.

Definitely.

That night, instead of his father, Hawkfrost dreams of soft paws, the scent of lavender, and gentle, golden eyes.

THEIR SONG IS FOOLS BY LAUREN AQUILINA AND NO IM NOT TAKING CRITICISM ON THIS

also before someone gets on my case for this: no, hawkfrost's thoughts on mothwing/sasha/his clanmates are not accurate. he's being groomed & manipulated by tigerstar to believe that everyone hates him except for his dad.

^ for more thoughts on that send me an ask because i originally typed up an authors note explaining his motivations/tigerstar's influence and it totalled at like 500 words so i couldn't put it here but i have been DYING to talk abt this

[pastthebutterflies]

It’s For You (Little Lady)

As it turns out, running away to a magical alternate dimension to avoid her problems ended just as badly as Luz thought it would.

Part two of what’s now my “Camila Comes Through the Door” series! I’m posting this late, so feel free to point out any glaring mistakes. Otherwise enjoy!

Ao3 link in the reblogs!

So, fun fact!

As it turns out, running away to a magical alternate dimension to avoid her problems ended just as badly as Luz thought it would.

In her defense, Luz really hadn’t expected her mom to actually find a way into said dimension (thanks, Owlbert). The plan had always been to stick around until the end of the summer, then head back home acting as if yes mom, camp was very educational and yes mom, she really did feel much more like everyone else now. Then, in theory, continue jumping back and forth with the door to continue her training and see her friends. Without Camila ever finding out about said secret double life.

Needless to say, those plans all went out the window the moment Camila stepped through the portal, right into Eda’s booth, where she had spotted Luz immediately and tried to all but drag her back home.

Fortunately- or unfortunately, depending on who she asked- King had been so surprised by the sudden arrival that he had shot straight from Luz’s arms and into the air, shocking them all enough for Eda to suggest they head back to the Owl House before they drew too much attention to themselves.

Which was what led to Luz hiding in the kitchen with Eda as King and Hooty chattered endlessly to Camila about who knew what and most definitely did not help the situation.

Eda leaned against the counter, staring boredly as her eyes tracked Luz’s movements back and forth across the floor with one hand in her hair while the other gestured wildly in the air.

“-And how did she even get here? Owlbert is so good at staying out of sight, how did he get caught?” She groaned. “And why did he have to find Mom of all people?”

“Kid, he’s an owl. Even your world has those, of course he was out in the open. She said he took her keys, which are shiny, not to mention strange and unusual compared to the ones we use on the Isles, they would have sold like wildfire. Obviously he was going to take them.”

“But why my mom? Of all the people-” she glanced through the door, where Camila is staring slack jawed at King, who was pointing intensely at a drawing in one of his demon books, animatedly speaking over Hooty, who seemed to have made a home around her shoulders. Surprisingly, Camila seemed less concerned with this part, or maybe she was trying to ignore it, the same way she did sometimes when Luz would say something a little too out there. At this point, she really couldn’t tell.

Maybe that was a good thing.

“So you smudged the truth a little bit, we’ve all done it. Heck, I do it all the time,” Eda snorted. “Look, you’ve got two options. Either you can run off again, maybe to one of your friends’ houses for the night and let King and I keep her busy.” She pictured slipping away to Willow’s for the night and letting Eda deal with this in the meantime. A wave of guilt washed over her almost immediately at the thought. Stupid conscience.

“Or,” Eda continued. “You can go out there and talk to her. Lady just found out her daughter lied to her for a month and spent the last twenty four hours thinking you were- poof! Gone. The least you can do is let her know you’re alright.” She pushed off the counter and shrugged, turning toward the door. “But hey, do what you need to. You know I’ll help out either way.”

With that, Eda headed into the living room to slump next to Camila and finally pull King away. She watched Camila’s shoulders relax just a bit at something Eda said. The look makes the lump that had been forming in Luz’s throat for the past hour begin to harden. She had always wanted to tell her mom, eventually. Preferably after she came home, safe and sound, and could prove that no, actually, it wasn’t dangerous at all Mom and that she arguably learned ten times as much on the Boiling Isles than she would have at camp.

Now-

Life was never supposed to go this way.

With a heavy sigh, Luz took a final glance toward the open door- if she ran, she could get to Willow’s by dark- and took the first step into the living room.

“You discover a magic door in the one place that I’ve spent years telling you not to go to, chasing after an owl that stole the book you just threw away, and decided that staying with the strange witch you just met- no offense, ma’am- all because you thought it sounded slightly better than camp? Not to mention giving me a heart attack in the process.”

She was taking this...far better than Luz thought she would. Her mom had never been one prone to yelling. Still, Luz had expected at least a small outburst this time. Yet, Camila had sat patiently through her explanation, waiting until the end to say much of anything. Eda had interjected a few times- the two of them got along surprisingly well, she was noticing- but for the most part, Luz had filled the silence for the past hour, catching Camila up on everything she had missed, or in some cases, adding new context to some of the messages she had sent over the course of the summer.

“Didn’t you kind of do the same thing just now? Same owl, same door…”

Over Camila’s shoulder, King cut a frantic hand over his throat, abort, abort, he tried to say, too little too late. If Luz wanted to back out, she should have done that weeks ago. Now that she was in, she may as well go all the way.

Camila blanched at that, “To find you. You’re the only kid I know that would leap through magic portals at the first opportunity. I should have figured sooner. Those messages were so vague, and the letters-”

Letters?

She could come back to that one later. For now-

“I’d do it again,” she said quietly.

Across from her, Camila stops in her tracks, brows burrowing deep into her eye line. “What?”

Even Eda glanced up at that, unsurprised, while an odd expression played on her face. Both of them remained quiet, waiting for her to continue. King however, took the chance to run across the floor and clamber into her lap. One hand lifted to scratch between his ears as she continued.

“I’d do it again,” she repeated. “Mom, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but- I can’t be the person you want me to be. Not then, not now. I’m happy here, happier than I ever was at school or camp. I can’t go back to feeling like that all the time, like I don’t belong or knowing that no one understands. I won’t. The people here,” she thinks of Willow and Gus and Amity. King and Eda. “They understand. They all know what it’s like not to fit in. I can’t want to lose that.”

King burrows deeper into her lap, sending a wave of comfort through her skin. He’ll want to talk about it later tonight, before bed, the way they usually do when things go wrong during the day. Assuming she was still here tonight, that is.

Her mom was frowning, then suddenly, she was crossing the space between them and wrapping her arms around Luz, tight as can be and whispering under her breath, “Te quiero,” to Luz or herself, she isn’t sure.

After a moment, she draws back, hands still on Luz’s shoulders, the telltale flood of tears in her eyes. “When I realized you never made it to camp, the only thing I could think of was that I wished I had never let you leave. You were so far away and I couldn’t find you. I would have searched everywhere for you- even another dimension.” She hugs her again, hard. “I can’t lose you, not again.”

Luz’s heart stuttered in her chest, the same way it did every time they had spoken in the past weeks. Only this time, she didn’t hold back. Her arms wrapped tight around her mom’s middle to squeeze as hard as she could muster. Between them, King squeaks indignantly and bolts back toward Eda. Her nose was buried deep into the scrubs Camila must never have changed out of before stumbling upon the door. She smelled like chemicals and antiseptic and home. Her other home, now.

When they finally pulled back, tears are tracking down Camila’s cheeks, mirroring the ones Luz can feel on her own face.

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” Camila glanced around. She takes in King and Eda, Hooty still twisting nervously in the corner. The odds and ends stacked along the walls. Luz.

She nodded once to herself, seemed to reach a decision. She stood. “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

Camila glanced to Luz, to Eda, then back to Luz. “You can stay,” she said, finally. “For the summer. But it’s back to school in the fall. If Miss Eda is okay with it, that is.”

Eda shrugs, “Meh, kid’s kind of grown on me.”

“And,” Camila added. “I’m staying, too.”

Luz’s feet send her shooting up before she entirely realized what was happening. “You’re what?”

“When I can, of course. I’ll still have work during the day and a house to look after. But I’ll be around, as often as I can.” Camila glanced around again. This time, Luz couldn’t tell if she was judging the place or mentally mapping out where she could fit herself into both the house and the dynamic. When she spoke again, her voice was softer than Luz expected to hear it today. “If this is important to you, I want it to be important to me, too.”

The words alone are enough to send Luz flying if she let them. She hadn’t expected it to go this well, much less be able to stay. And having her around? Able to finally see the things Luz loved, in a setting where her interests were encouraged- the norm, even. The lump from before had finally begun to dissolve, trickling down her throat and rising up again in the form of a happy shout.

She leaned forward to wrap her arms around Camila again, this time dragging Eda forward as well as she muttered confusedly under her breath. At their feet, she felt King’s claws tap against her ankles as he followed suit.

“Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you.”

When they pulled away, Camila turned to her, eyes serious. “From now on, I need you to be honest with me. No matter what, do you understand? No more running off without telling me, no more secret magic shows; honesty from here on out. And I’ll do my best to understand all... this.”

A laugh bubbled up from deep in her stomach, “deal.”

In the end, Camila wound up spending the night and calling in to work the next morning. Luz spent most of the evening and a good portion of the night delving into what she had seen so far on the Isles, including Willow and Gus, the Blights, Hexside. She activated the few spells she knew, as well, sending bursts of light into the air while Eda sits back, demonstrating the way they were typically cast.

It was odd, seeing her mom so relaxed. She had changed from her scrubs to one of Eda’s old shirts that read fabulous and flawless in sprawling pink font across the front and a pair of her old sweats. In the future, they were hoping to have a more long term setup for the times she stayed over. Which made Luz question why she had gotten the upstairs closet the whole time- but she would deal with that later.

Right now, she was willing to keep drawing up her spells and finally getting to show off to someone as amazed as her at the process. There was still more to talk about, like going to Hexside and Eda’s curse. Both of which were likely to cause ripples in the future, but for now, Luz was content to share the world she had fallen in love with, with the only person from home that mattered.

For now, Luz dragged her pencil across the page and let the light rise up between them.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Fractured Foundation: Scorned Soul Ch.5 Spark

The smallest embers can lead to raging wildfires if left unattended.

”Ladybug…" Adrien looked down as the guilt opened a pit in his stomach. "I'm sorry-”

Carapace interrupted Adrien by tackling him. Arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. "You're okay!" The Turtle's voice broke. "You're okay."

Confusion clouded Adrien's eyes but, slowly, he wrapped his own arms around Carapace. "I didn't... hurt anyone, did I?"

Feeling Carapace stiffen under his hands was all the response Adrien needed. Pulling away from the hero Adrien curled in on himself. "I see."

"It wasn't your fault you were akumatized!" Queen Bee pointed out. Coming off harsher than she meant to, Chloe softened her voice. "Everyone has bad days. It doesn't mean you're a bad person."

Adrien bit his lip. Chloe's words seemed to have the opposite effect of her intention. If the growing void in his gut was any indication.

Rena Rouge stepped forward to add her voice to Chloe's. "She's right, Adrien. You two aren't the only ones here who were akumatized."

Eyes widening, Adrien's head whipped towards Rena. Her? Akumatized? And Ladybug still trusted her with a Miraculous? Maybe he-

Suddenly, four near simultaneous beeps rang out. Announcing the heroes' imminent detransformation.

"...Go. I'll collect your Miraculous later," Ladybug decided.

Carapace shot his Miraculous an accusing look as Rena Rouge grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Casting worried glances at Adrien over his shoulder. Queen Bee stood still, struggling with what to say, before she too left. Eyes locking with Ladybug for a too brief moment.

Coming closer, Ladybug held out Adrien's previously akumatized item. The lucky charm she gave him.

Letting it drop into his hand Adrien stared at it. Slowly, he brought it to his chest.

Placing a hand on his shoulder Ladybug pretended not to feel him tense at her touch. She opened her mouth... And nothing came out. Fire and smoke danced behind her eyes as Scorned Soul's heartbreak echoed in her mind. No words seemed solid enough, strong enough, to pierce the spell. Not even to ask why Adrien was akumatized in the first place.

"Have you ever had something you loved ripped away from you?"

No. Ladybug couldn't say that she had. So, instead she said. "I can take you home?"

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Adrien's shoulders hunched slightly. And Ladybug was about to force words out of her mouth to fix it. Even if they didn't come out right, even if they wouldn't obey her, when Adrien answered. "... O-okay."

He trembled in her arms as his own wrapped tightly around her neck. Burying his face in her shoulder to avoid looking at her. Ladybug swinging quickly across the city. Relief at the lack of fires bloomed in her chest. Adrien's grip shifted as he focused on keeping his breath even.

At the sight of the Agreste manor her eyes watered. There was no sign at all of Scorned Soul's unbridled rage. Adrien seemed to sense her shift in mood and opened his eyes.

A vise gripped his heart as he saw their destination. Tears streamed in the wind, disappearing into his hair. When he searched himself for the reason why his eyes stung at the sight there was nothing. Nothing but fire and ash.

Before leaving him in his empty room Ladybug glanced back. Eyes setting in determination. But for what he didn't know. Then she was gone.

The door to his room slammed open. Adrien jumping at the sound. Gabriel strode in, his expression thunderous. Nathalie hurrying behind.

"F-Father?"

"What have you done!?" Gabriel snapped and Adrien flinched at the steel in his voice. "What have you done!?"

Adrien backed away. "I- I don't-"

"Gabriel," Nathalie soothed, though there was a tremor to her words. "Ladybug put everything back as it should be. Everything is fine."

Taking a deep breath Gabriel adjusted his tie. The eruption he was about to loose on his son quelled. For now. Fixing Adrien with his usual look of unimpressed dismissiveness, Gabriel turned on his heel and left. Nathalie glanced at Adrien sympathetically before closing the door.

Adrien collapsed to the floor as his breath came in sobbing gasps. Tears burning from his eyes. His phone rang. He tossed it away without looking. There was no more strength for speaking to others. Gabriel sapped it out and left without even saying why he was so angry.

His phone rang again. Adrien stood, stumbling, and muted it. He felt... drained... Empty... Alone.

----------

Marinette waited quietly, if not quite patiently, across from Master Fu. Her desire to speak was superseded by the persistent guilt that weighed down her tongue. Their kwamis whispered to each other beside the Miracle Box.

First losing Chat Noir then almost losing Adrien, it was too much. She shuddered at the way Scorned Soul had somehow manifested her guilt. Using her own emotions to add fuel to his fire. Turning her own weaknesses against her...

Finally, Master Fu spoke. "I am sorry."

Marinette stared, uncomprehending.

“I created this hatred in him. I could have simply addressed it with him. He was not beyond hope…”

"Wait... Chat Noir is going through the same thing as Adrien!? We have to help him! We have to-"

"Sit down, Marinette. I have already decided to return Chat Noir's Miraculous to him."

Her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight, Marinette collapsed back onto her seat. "I- Really?"

Master Fu nodded, glancing from the Miracle Box to giving her a knowing look. "Recent events have shown me that it is better he remain by your side."

A thought came to the forefront of Marinette's mind. It solved a problem she actively prevented herself from solving. But it wasn't the first time she dismissed it. So, with practiced ease she sent the unwanted answer back where it came from. "Thank you, Master Fu."

He waved away her thanks. "I acted rashly. It is only fitting I correct my mistake."

"Stll-" Marinette's phone rang and she saw her maman's face smiling from the screen. "I have to go Master Fu." Marinette stood and this time her legs held. "Tikki, transforme-moi!"

Ladybug stood for a moment at Master Fu's window. Glancing back at her mentor, Ladybug smiled. A genuine smile at the thought of seeing her partner again. "Thank you." And then she swung away.

Master Fu stood slowly. Although the Miraculous Cure healed his burns the memory of them had not faded.

Wayzz hovered closely to his wielder. "Master?"

"I am alright, Wayzz," he walked toward the Box and pressed the proper code to open it, "Simply thinking."

The ring of the Black Cat seemed to wink at him in the light. Casting his mind back to that day.

Master Fu remembered a call from his memory-less protege suddenly being cut off. A great sphere of amnesia magic ready to wipe every mind in Paris clean. But mostly he remembered Ladybug getting hit while covering Chat Noir. His last mistake, which convinced Master Fu to take his Miraculous.

Picking up the ring, Master Fu placed it in one of the smaller octagonal boxes. He would keep a closer eye on Chat Noir. Obviously, he was too susceptible to akumatization to be let in more than he already had. But this time Master Fu would be there. Watching and assessing from the side. This time Chat Noir would have a guiding hand to set him on the proper path.

----------

Adrien stared disbelievingly at the box in his hand. The same one he'd found the ring in over a year ago. It was even in the same place.

Why? That thought echoed in his head. Sweat beading along his brow, hand trembling and mouth dry.

Why? It was only a day since his akumatization. And suddenly his Miraculous reappeared in his room without explanation or warning.

Why? It was the question itself that made him hesitate to open the box. Or was it the answer?

Why? Gut clenching Adrien snapped it open.

Before he even finished materializing Plagg crashed into Adrien. Calling out his name. Purring into Adrien's chest.

The last shred of his disbelief faded as Adrien slowly hugged Plagg to himself. Tears brimming as Adrien asked for answers he knew would bring no satisfaction. "Why?"

Plagg stopped purring. "Well, Master Fu changed his mind."

"Why?"

Floating at eye level, Plagg gazed at Adrien. "He realized taking me away was a mistake."

"Why?"

Ears drooping, Plagg's tail fidgeted anxiously. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"I was akumatized," Adrien stated, a question in his voice.

Plagg forced his tail to still. "He... Fu's sorry he took Chat Noir away from you."

"I see... And he couldn't even tell me that himself." Adrien turned towards his bed.

Zooming after him, Plagg tried to elicit some reaction besides this unsettling monotone. "Adrien-"

"I'm sorry."

Plagg blinked.

Adrien stared at his friend. "It's good to see you again." He smiled sadly. "I... I missed you."

"Of- Of course!" Plagg tried to downplay the sudden lump in his throat. "I missed you too."

Adrien's smile became a touch brighter.

"Why don't we take a little rooftop stroll? That's always fun."

Abruptly, Adrien's fledgling smile fell and he looked down. Normally he'd jump at the chance to transform, to fly across Paris. But transforming meant seeing Ladybug again. And he didn't want to face her. Not yet.

"Thanks, Plagg." He started for his bed again. "But I'm tired. Maybe later..."

Stunned into silence, Plagg slowly floated into the boy's hair while Adrien settled in. Adrien never turned down an opportunity to transform... Plagg purred for his kid. And if Adrien's tears stained his pillow, well, Plagg wouldn't tell anyone.

----------

Ladybug didn't find Chat Noir until the third night.

He wasn't transformed when she checked her yo-yo contacts and couldn't bring herself to leave a message. She didn't know what to say. Still, Ladybug searched his favorite spots and double checked his patrol routes. All in vain.

Until she spotted a dark shadow purely by chance. Turning sharply, Ladybug angled herself towards the rooftop. "Chat Noir!"

The shadow stiffened at her voice and turned in her direction.

Landing, Ladybug all but tackled him into a huge hug. "I'm glad you're back!" Pulling back to get a better look at him, her enthusiasm faded.

Chat Noir was smiling but... it didn't reach his eyes. His ears were flat against his head and his tail hung limply from his waist. As he pushed her to a respectable distance Ladybug realized he never hugged her back. Merely let his arms hang limply and let her do what she wanted.

"Chat?"

"Hello, Ladybug."

"Wh- What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." His smile widened but his ears didn't move. "Everything's fine."

Ladybug didn't believe him. "I... I'm sorry I didn't try harder to convince Master Fu."

That did get a reaction. Eyes widening slightly and ears twitching, Chat Noir's smile tightened. "It's fine. You were just obeying your Master."

Before Ladybug could linger on how he'd called Master Fu her Master instead of their Master, Chat Noir jumped to the roof's edge.

"Well, we should get started on patrol don't you think?"

"What? Chat wait-" Ladybug reached for him but he was already leaping away from her. Fading into the shadows.

This whole mess started because he couldn't act professionally. Because he burdened Ladybug with his feelings when she needed to focus. Distracted her with his irrelevant emotions. Chat Noir knew that the only reason Master Fu gave him the ring back was for Ladybug's sake. It was... something. For him to lie and say he regretted taking Plagg away.

But it wasn't true.

Master Fu only regretted that Adrien's emotions hurt Ladybug. So, he would keep them buried like he always does. Chat Noir would smile and do what he was told and not ask questions. That's what everyone expected of Adrien anyway, it was foolish to think anyone would want differently from Chat Noir. He had practice, after all.

Pressure built up in his chest and pushed into his throat. But he swallowed it down. Adrien wouldn't make the mistake of baring his heart again.

That never gave him anything but pain.

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

Inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads Scorned Soul AU.

To Be Continued in Fractured Foundation: Chat Blanc

[magistralucis]

lib sebinsky/at a party/you pick also side note I Love U💟💟💟💟💟💟

At a party, celebrating // Lib Sebinsky

———————

When the hour is nigh you rise to your feet and gesture for your Captain to join you outside. He seems surprised, but complies, letting the door fall shut; the conversations of the evening fade behind it, and you are left alone together, snowy moonlight drifting past your feet. "Sebastian. Something wrong?"

“No... it couldn’t be further away from wrong.”

Twenty to midnight. This is it. You take a deep breath, pull out a small box from your pocket, and lower yourself on one knee.

“This was a very long time coming.”

Your Captain gasps and stares at you in disbelief. Your smile, faintly bashful, perhaps even chastised - but above all, honest. Surprising how it took you both so long, and around such complicated paths, to convey something so simple. But it’s here now. You’ve thought about this moment for so long the speech accompanying it flows like water.

“In our years together I could never choose the right time to do this. And we had many obstacles in the way: war scars, misunderstandings, my selfishness.” You close your eyes and shake your head, guilt stinging your heart, as it has done ever since you and Vincent fixed your relationship. “I am guilty - yes! I am guilty of throwing away our moments. I shan’t repeat that mistake again. You have been by my side for a full dozen years, Vincent, I should be honoured if you will be mine for ten times that.”

“Sebastian.”

You open the box. Two rings in brilliant white gold are nestled within. You are already acquainted to yours, it’s the same one Vincent gifted you as a promise so very long ago; well, it has its partner now. “You are the river of human kindness. You steered me this far. At this point in the journey of our life, I wish to keep you with me for ever: Vincent Belorgey, will you marry me?”

He stares at you some more. Slowly, a smile drifts to his lips. The smile becomes a laugh, which soon dissolves in tears of joy. Wordlessly, he pulls you to your feet and pulls you fast to his chest; this is not quite enough for him, and within seconds he’s lifted you up with a triumphant shout, spinning you in a circle. When he lets you down he makes his answer known in a way you didn’t expect, which is: another ring, in its own box, blue velvet to counter your red. His is more elaborate with an inset band of diamonds. You look up at him, astonished.

“I was going to take my chance after midnight.” He confesses, his hoarse-voiced happiness mingling with the dark mischief he learnt to tame for your pleasure. "I received the Madame's permission years ago. But it wouldn't have been right to spring it on you at the start of your presidency, and for years - I wondered if it would ever be the right time-"

And the sting again. Yes, for many years, it seemed like there would be no light at the end of the tunnel. “Oh, Vinco-”

"But I kept hoping such a day would come. Oh, Bastien, I am glad. If we were still in the palace when it happened, I wanted the top floor converted into our suite - for the honeymoon, or whatever else, let’s do that! - and if we weren't, I was going to take you to Grasse. Obtain us a cottage and a beautiful yard in springtime, plead your grace on one knee! I thought you might like to be stolen away, in the same way I think you'd like being gently but firmly taken against the wall." He hushes your blushing protests with a finger, pressed tenderly against your mouth. "It depends on circumstances, but from everything I know about you, I was pretty damned certain you'd love it."

"You scoundrel.” But you can’t resist taking the tip of his finger into your mouth, teeth edging slightly against the skin. “I hope you didn't say that to my mother."

"My lips are sealed." Vincent laughs, eyes twinkling. He leans in. "Unless my Sebastian desires otherwise. I'd much rather please you with them, than to merely talk about it."

The sentiment is mutual. You present your hand to him, playfully haughty as he kisses the back of it and slips his ring onto your finger. You do the same for him with yours, and seeing that he’s pleased with this arrangement, reach up to kiss him fully. It is a short kiss, for the clock is ticking and you have places to be, but wholly satisfying: Vincent slips his hands along your body, feeling for you beneath your regalia, and the caress pleases you.

Already his ring is warm against your skin. Against the wall, indeed. Perhaps later.

---

After that the plan goes without a hitch. When you enter hand in hand, you and Captain both, an air of understanding sweeps across the receiving room right away. People put down their glasses, give you their full attention, and Franck slips away from the crowd. (They will later confirm they were similarly commissioned by Vincent, but kept their loyalty to you, aware you would get your chance first.)

“Have you enjoyed tonight’s festivities, beloved ones?”

Nods and murmurs. You smile wide and raise your hand up high, at the same time as Vincent, presenting your rings in unison to the crowd.

“Might you have room for one more, perhaps?”

Stunned silence. From the back of the room Franck pulls a cord with flourish. One of the many burgundy drapes there, indistinguishable from the rest, falls open instantly; the sound draws the crowd’s attention, and as Franck presents the new Presidential portrait they painted of yourself and your fiancé, the tension breaks free like a flood. First there are gasps, then a thunderous cheer, breaking forth like wildfire. Sonny is the first to throw himself into your arms, sobs of utter relief and joy interspersed with his congratulations.

That painting there is barely a week old, but already it’s set up for a sequel, this time with all three of you. You lavish paternal kisses on him and lift him high above your shoulders.

"Mesdames et Messieurs," you cry as you hold tight the two men dearest to your heart, "a happy family!"

Everyone swirls around you then. A sea of applause, handshakes, and hearty slaps on the shoulder (for Vincent more than you). It took you so long to get to this point, but you got there in the end, and something is finally complete. A camera materializes, already mounted on a tripod. Franck is the operator. With eager gestures they quickly wave everyone in the room close to you, gathered in position in two neat rows, you and Vincent and Sonny at the very centre. Tonight they will immortalize your family as it was and is; at the wedding, which will hopefully be very soon, this picture will be taken again with the addition of Franck in the crowd.

They will always be there for future photos as well. The transference of the old into the new, incorporating the new, and again and again for as long as you prosper.

Xavier and Gaspard are closest to you, faces beaming with joy and a mutual love for one another. Pedro and David are closest to the Captain, their expressions as serene as can be, the former's arm playfully resting on the latter's shoulder as if to show off his taller height. Beside them stands your chauffeur, Quentin and Bruno beside Xavier; then all the subordinates, and the palace staff who were so faithful to you all these years. You glance at Vincent amidst this big and wonderful family you have amassed, and he smiles back you; you lean in and kiss again, picture perfect with hands entwined, as a second round of cheers erupt again.

“Ouistiti!”

You keep that photo in your bedchamber forever.

[until-we-fall-in-love]

creature-song: part two

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, light Steve Rogers x Reader, light Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, light Wanda Maximoff x Bucky Barnes

Summary: You should turn away. But you let it happen, let it happen because some dark, most trapped part of you wants to. A piece of you that you have chained like an animal, a mongrel bitch, and tried to let die. It paces inside you now, hungry and waiting and ready.

1600s America AU, Witch!AU, Possessed!Bucky, Gothic, Horror

Warnings: Smut, gore, violence, demons, possession, sacrilegious themes. This is 18+ as most of my works are.

If you are under 18 you should not be reading this!

A/N: hey guys! here is the second and last part to this fic! pls enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Here is Part One

***

You are born anew, suddenly coltish on newly powerful legs. You are flushed with color, your hair shining and eyes that can simmer into ember orange and serpent yellow. You are different from Wanda; she reveres you with new respect in equal measures that she treats you like a new, bratty princess that needs to be guided and taught and scolded. 

She says she serves you, becomes so protective that you can hardly leave her sight. If anyone dares utter your name with anything but respect, they are falling ill with oozing boils and welts. She is merciless, possessive. She makes your head spin. She teaches you the ways of the witch, forces your chin up higher and calls you Dark One, Hidden One, Princess of Night, Queen of Beasts. 

You do not know when the demon speaks for Bucky or when Bucky speaks for the demon. He becomes even more protective, aggravated. You feel powerful, feel free and wild and savage. 

You’re no longer freezing and shivering.

You crawl into Bucky’s lap and sink down upon him, even when he is clear-eyed and gentler with you. You let him take you on your stomach like a snake when his eyes are blackened with the demon. He becomes yours. You become his.

Wanda teaches you magic, teaches you around a flickering flame before she lays you out and makes you hers, too. 

More bodies appear, dripping in velvet red and a lovely shade of pink. You grow apathetic. Wanda is cursing too many.

Rumors spread like wildfire. It’s easy to target the pariahs of the village, even more so when you three have become the monsters they’ve always wanted you to be. But at least you claim it now, at least it is yours and you love it, you love your power and the rabid wolf in you that has been released in all it’s feral glory. 

Wanda is accused of witchcraft, followed quickly by you. Your neighbors gawk and stare and whisper behind their ugly hands that you wish to see crushed with stone or cut cleanly off. How many times can you break a finger bone? 

But you and Wanda turn wide, girlish eyes on them. You pretend to be sweet, huddle together the way they think females should cower. 

Steve defends you both, scolds them for daring to think so. Your golden boy, your lion-hearted man.if he notices the change in you, he cannot speak it loud, perhaps for fear of making it true. 

So good, so gracious and kind. A Godly man, if it weren’t for the bent part of him. You can feel it now, in his thoughts that you worm into. In the way his eyes linger on Bucky’s form. On yours and Wanda’s. 

You don’t know how to tell him that there is something twisted inside him, too, that you can’t wait to devour him. So you lick your lips as lioness, she wolf, sharp-toothed fox, and wait for him to come to you.

***

The days are brief; darkness cradles the world at a tender hour. You and Wanda thrive in it, wander out to the woods with a candle, and roll around upon the forest floor together. She strips you bare, plays too close to the edge of town because she likes the thrill of being caught. You laugh and moan and grab at each other, sink teeth into vulnerable skin and shake and shiver like the final leaves upon the spindly, reaching trees. 

And from the edges, someone watches. Eyes, impossibly blue and shining in milky starlight.

Steve crouches low, hiding in the shadows like some perverse and unsettled man. He shouldn’t, but he follows you and Wanda out into the darkness. He suspects something, in the pit of his stomach, suspects something awful and he follows in hopes of being proved wrong. He hopes it’s innocent. So he watches with wide eyes and a trembling heart as you both lose your wool dresses and shawls and underthings. He shouldn’t look, God, oh God, he knows he shouldn’t watch this—

But something inside him begs him to stay. His heart is in his throat, palms suddenly clammy and cold. He can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. The dim candlelight is made into a small bonfire and your bare, twisting bodies are illuminated for him. 

He watches as your lips fall down to Wanda’s chest, makes her laughs turns into gasps as she pulls at your hair that unravels over your shoulders and back. Wanda forces you down, sinks into your lap and hooks a leg of yours over hers, fits you two together by your cores until both your hips move in tandem.

He watches you kiss the way lovers do, with a vicious tenderness, with a searing sort of love. He’s jealous, he realizes stupidly, unable to even breathe as he watches you both raptly.

His fingers dig into the bark of a tree, scratching the way you do at Wanda’s shoulders. He swallows thickly at the noises you make, knows this is sin. Knows this is damnation. 

He should forsake you both. He should never look upon either of you again and go back home to say a thousand burning prayers.

But he’s shaking by the time you’re both finished, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining. He is hungry, he realizes, near desperate. 

You’re witches, he thinks, you’re something evil and corrupted and twisted. He should tell a minister, he should try to make you both repent on bent knees and your eyes cast downward, the fan of your lashes against your warm and soft cheeks—

When he finally tears himself away with a half growl of frustration, his trousers are constricting, too tight and damning evidence. He aches in the most inner parts of him.

You and Wanda giggle, your laughs carrying on the twisting, cold wind that pushes at Steve as he storms away. As if you both know how he longs, as if the wind knows, too. 

***

Your nights are fever dreams of hands and warm, slick mouths. Fingers between lips and legs, hands wrapped tight around your throat, your breasts, your legs. Bathed in blood or arousal or mercury moonlight. You lose count of the bodies as you grow stronger each day, able to move things with your mind. Or curse and strike someone down. You float through daylight, warm even as snow begins to fall and everyone and everything withers away into death.

You and Wanda are accused of witchcraft. They tear through the village looking for you two and when they find you both, Wanda pushes you behind her, bares her teeth and growls into the cold air so it curls upwards like smoke, like a dragon. 

They near with their sludge faces and greedy, grabbing hands. They curse you as witches and suddenly seize you both with their frigid fingers that pull and prod at your soft skin. 

“Don’t touch her!” Wanda snarls like a wild thing and you latch tight to her wrist, her hand, before you are being pulled away.

Others grab at Wanda and they try to separate you two. Wanda thrashes, her eyes flooding with red when you shriek in pain as others start twisting your arms, trying to wrench you away from her. It feels as if you’re being torn apart, stitching to be ripped and unwoven. You feel suddenly feral, twisting and turning to try and slip free.

“Let her go!” Wanda says again and there is a ringing to her voice, a power that surges. Her nails dig into your skin and you hold as tightly as you can as arms wrap around your middle and lift you clear off the ground. They pull at you, vicious and unforgiving.

You fight with all you have, yell and snarl, throw yourself towards Wanda but they tear you both apart kicking and screaming.

You don’t realize when you start sobbing through clenched teeth, but you do. As if they’re torturing or killing you, as if they’ve ripped out your heart. They drag you through the streets like an animal and you want to kill them all, you want to paint everything in their blood. You want to watch Bucky dismember them, you want to dance on their grave and pin Wanda to the cold stone to feel her body against yours.

The men tear at your clothes because they can, because they’re greedy and you scream. Wanda hears you, and there is a sudden pulse from her, a shriek, before some of the men around her are thrown backwards from her. She fights harder, but is overtaken again. 

They haul you both to a cold and darkened prison. They throw you in separate cages, though connected. Wanda and you push against the bars to touch and speak with each other. She strokes your wet cheeks, tries to soothe you. 

“I won’t let them near you,” She murmurs, “I won't let them touch you again. I’ll kill them before I let them.” She tells you with heat, her red eyes shining with tears as she holds your face through the hateful, metal bars that are rusted and rough. 

When they return, they demand to check you both for devil’s marks, witch’s marks. One man nears you with outstretched hands and Wanda seethes, hisses through her teeth and jerks her head slightly to the left—

The man’s neck snaps in the same direction,  cracks sickly, and he falls dead at your feet. You can sense his soul now departing. You grow chilled, the veil between your world and the next shimmering before your eyes. 

You skitter back and away, into Wanda’s hands and arms as she hushes you. Her nose drips scarlet blood now, eyes fever bright in the darkness. The men stare in fear and repulsion, horror in their faces and you stare back at them with the same repulsion and terror. 

They shouldn’t touch you, shouldn’t grab at you. Who are they to try and twist you and cage you both? All they’d done was cage you— your whole, smothered life. All they’d done was made you hate who you are and what you’d become or hadn’t become. They’d tried to make you grey and slack faced and cold and unfeeling. They tried to make you housewife and child of God and mother of many sons.

Your minister says you were born in sin.

So what was the point, then? You had railed, had searched and begged and prayed for answers and received none. Be quiet, they’d wanted, be silent and still and look beautiful and serene but not so beautiful that you should tempt the men and you—

You hadn’t breathed until Wanda had shown you the ways of a new life. You’d been so free with her, with Bucky. With Steve.

“We will be free once more.” Wanda promises in your ear and it slithers down between your shoulder blades and settles in the notches of your spine as you peer at the men in the darkness with their open, grasping hands. 

***

A trial is had. 

They want to hang you both for your crimes. 

Steve defends you, swears as witness and under God that he’s only ever seen you both be angels. And if there has been discretion, he is certain your souls can be saved.

Why are they so close? It’s unnatural, is it not? 

Not for two orphans, Steve says, not for two girls who only have each other.

People say that Miss Maximoff has killed with a look because someone touched the other.

Impossible, Steve counters. She is frightened, he presses, she is protective. They are all each other has.

Shouldn’t they have found husbands by now? 

They’ve no mother to guide them. Take pity on them, he says, they are lost and searching.

Does our scripture not say to take in the weary and lost? Steve cries, face honest, as he says;

They have done no wrong. 

He lies through his teeth for you both, the twisted part of him growing like a gnarled tree root, spreading deep into him. 

And when he visits your cells, you rush towards the bars to touch him, to thank him. 

Wanda is there, too, trying to press through the bars to you and him. 

“Oh, Steve,” You whisper, your fingers reaching through the bars to touch his face, his pale hair. You brush over his cheeks as he gazes at you.

“You shouldn’t defend us.” You tell him, “They’ll hang you, too, if you’re not careful.”

“I won’t let them hang you.” Steve says as if he could move mountains and there is your Greek hero; going up against immeasurable odds. “You won’t.” He promises like Wanda, “I’ll set you free.”

The words are pressed into your jaw, just below your ear. You become aware of all that he’s willing to do for you both and you pull back to stare at him slightly, at all of him.

“Do not lie the way you did to the jury and the judge.” You hiss to him, nails skimming his face now.

“I-I didn’t—“

“I know you saw us in the woods that day.” You tell him lowly, your voice coaxing and soft and breathy. “I know you saw us sin.” You tell him as your own eyes suddenly shimmer into the orange of a liquid sunset.

Steve swallows harshly, cheeks aflame.

You grab at the back of his neck, pulling him close so that your lips brush his between the jagged bars. 

“I know that you liked watching. And that you love me and Wanda and Bucky too much to be scared.” You nudge your nose to his cheek and sigh as if you are in love, “You’re so loyal, Steve.”

He stammers, “W-what does Bucky—“

But he knows the answer and you kiss him lightly upon the lips before he departs.

Your sweet sighs and coaxing fingers have him singing with heat, knowing that no matter how he tried, he wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way than this. Sin or not, you awaken something inside his chest, a bird finally taking flight and he won’t lose that. He can’t. Just like he can’t lose Bucky or Wanda, either. 

Bring all that you have, he thinks of the church and the minister and the town, and I will plant myself like a tree between them, and stand there forever more. 

Little does he know, they will thoroughly test that; they’ll bring axes and fire and sing and dance with ugly faces and feet when he goes up as a pyre for you and Wanda to be staked upon.

***

The room smells of sick when Steve enters; it is damp and dark and sweltering for November. Bucky twists in the sheets of bed, a fire roaring and snapping gently in the fireplace. He is sweaty and shining and red in the face. He looks pale, though, stricken and weak and the heavy bags beneath his eyes seem as if they’ve gained even more weight. 

Bucky grew ill early into the morning and has only gotten worse since. He’s thrown up black bile again, Steve can see it in the bucket beside his thin, lumpy bed. 

Bucky’s eyes are shining when they fall on Steve and he reaches out to him like he is a boy again, sick and in bed and begging for his mother. Steve goes to sit beside him, 

“There’s something horrible in me, Steve.” Bucky rasps, “I’m trying to get it out. You have to help me.” 

Steve shakes his head, places his palm upon Bucky’s forehead, “It’s just a fever.” He says dismissively and Bucky grabs his wrist, holds his hand to his clammy and hot face. He presses his forehead into Steve’s palm, squeezes his eyes shut.

“Steve,” He says, low and desperate, his voice ragged, “Steve, it’s not just a fever.” 

And then Bucky’s body seizes, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he goes straight and tight as an arrow, ready to be shot. Steve’s eyes widen, concern flooding him as Bucky’s body seizes sharply.

“Bucky,” He hisses, just as Bucky begins shaking violently, body twisting. Steve tries to hold him still, but his tremors grow too strong, too brutal and hysterical. “Buck!”

Steve grapples for his shoulders, to hold him down hard against the bed, leaning down and using all his strength and weight to try and pin him down. He fears he’ll hurt himself, fears the worst—

Bucky’s hand- the false, metal one- shoots out to grab Steve around the back of his neck and when his eyes snap open, they are blazing, coal black. 

Black as night. A starless sky.

Steve’s heart jumps as if it might leap from the nest between his ribs. 

“Oh, Stevie,” He says in a higher, breathy voice, “You’re so loyal, Steve.” He says in the same way that you had and Steve tries to lurch away, suddenly shocked and frightened.

But Bucky holds tighter, unnatural strength in that metal limb that keeps Steve from bolting to the other side of the room. Steve’s breaths grow ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly, fluttering in a way that he is not familiar with. 

“You lied for them in front of the court. Swore to your God that you’d never seen them sin.” Bucky says in a slithering, inky voice. It reverberates inside of Steve’s mind, sinks down his throat and into his chest and core—

“But you saw them.” He says slowly, “You saw the way they touched and rolled around on the ground like animals in heat.”

Steve is shaking, breathing hard through his nose.

“And you liked it,” Bucky growls, his voice infinite and pushing at him, “You thought about it. You think of their naked bodies—“

“Bucky—“ Steve tries to stop him, before his heart falls out through his stomach.

“Not quite,” the black-eyed creature hums lowly, twisting slightly beneath Steve’s hands so that their chests may touch. “But I am a catalyst for his desires. I set him free. I set them free.” He tilts his head at an odd angle, a serpent about to strike, “And I can set you free, too.”

“No.” Steve tries to jerk away again but the grip on him is bruising, inhuman. 

He leans towards him, “I know how you look at him.” He hisses through teeth that seem sharper, too close to his vulnerable neck, “I know how he looks at you.” 

“I don’t—“

He jerks Steve closer, so their lips almost brush. “Don’t deny yourself,” He breathes and this time, it seems like Bucky, the voice rough and soft and pulling at tendons in Steve’s soul. “You can have him. And them.” And Bucky finally releases him, strokes the back of his neck like a lover, twists his hands in the blond of his hair.

Steve longs to relax into it, to settle into Bucky’s bones. But—

Bucky sags against the bed, eyes rolling again, until they flutter back into the blue that Steve knows in the depths of his person. Like the blue of early evening, of stone and winter.

Steve shifts off of him, hands going to his face, his neck, “Are you okay?”

Bucky pales, suddenly twists out of Steve’s grasp and spews black blood and bile into the bucket beside the bed. He wretches, whole body shuddering and seizing. 

And Steve runs his broad palm along his flank, brushes hair from his face the way a parent would, the way a lover would.

When he’s finished spilling his guts and blood into the bucket- black rust and gore, he wipes his mouth, turns back into the bed and tries to hide from Steve.

“You’re right, it’s not just a fever.” Steve says dryly and allows the room to fall into stiff, unforgiving silence. 

After a moment, after the silence becomes overbearing for him, a weight upon his shoulders and throat, as if it wants him to feel the weight of his sins, Bucky speaks;

“I did horrible things.” 

His voice is shredded and somber as he waits for Steve, so golden and bright and good, to leave him in horror.

“It wasn’t you.” Steve hushes, touches his neck.

Bucky goes still as stone.

“Yes, it was.” Bucky squeezes out, “I was present. I let Wanda lead her to me like a lamb to slaughter.” His eyes flutter up to Steve as he breathes, “I took her. Not the demon. I woke to her in my arms, desperate and soft, and I—“ 

Steve can’t breathe.

“I was the first to take her.” He releases the truth like a wind that suddenly rushes forth, a dam broken. His voice breaks, too, “She was so sweet, Steve—“

Steve inhales sharply, settles back, surprised and unsure. His mind whirls, body flushing with heat and something it shouldn’t. Guilt then, for anything other than repulsion. He shouldn’t be curious, shouldn’t want to hear Bucky’s rough, low voice tell him about what you two did when the moon was high and the only witness. He shouldn’t want to know, he shouldn’t think of you and Wanda and you soft, curving bodies; your desperate groans and hungry, seeking lips. 

He shouldn’t think about the way his chest had touched Bucky’s, how his heart had beaten a new tune. A damned song. He exhales harshly, and bitterly, wishes he knew how sweet you were, too.

Bucky is sick for three days and three nights as he tries to purge the demon from him, the soldier of a devil. His eyes will roll into winter black and spew vile, twisting words, or soft, enchanting words. Steve doesn’t leave his side, holds his shaking body when the blue returns. He feeds him and undresses him only to redress him. He bloodlets, cuts a mark to let sizzling blood rush out of Bucky in hopes of purging him. The demon tests Steve, purrs about his desires or hisses his sins. But it’s Bucky’s earnest face, his eyes that water and soften on Steve when they return blue, that really devour all of Steve’s resolve.

Especially when Bucky hides in the crook of his neck, shuddering breaths against his shoulder, holding fast and tight to him as if Steve is the very last thing keeping him tethered to this realm. He holds him when his body seizes, holds him until he doesn’t know what sin is or isn’t anymore. 

***

You and Wanda are to be hanged the following day at dawn. 

The court has decided so and when Steve had disappeared for several days, there is no man to defend you. There is no one their pale, blurry faces will listen to besides Steve. Besides, when someone tries to take you from Wanda again, they seize up and are twisted into a strange angle. 

Their bones break like brittle branches under Wanda’s power. She crushes their skull with nothing but her mind; it bursts like a berry and splatters against you both. Against all the grey, slack faces that persecute you. Wanda grows feral and fearsome, she grows anxious and possessive of you. 

And now, you both wait for your deaths. She holds you through the bars as best as she can, stroking your hair. She is strangely calm now, soothed with you near and safe for now. 

Perhaps you should be more fearful; fearful of death, of what may come after for all your sins. 

But you can only settle further into Wanda and wonder who decided it was a sin to love her. To love being touched and to live simple and wild and free. You’d die with your soul spread wide, like a flock of crows, in the least. 

Perhaps, you are also calm because you do not feel death upon you. He is not near you or Wanda. The rats do not scuttle towards you, the insects do not linger. No ravens to caw. 

So you both wait. 

Wait until there is a thump and rushed footsteps against the stones of the prison. You tense, half expecting someone to burst forth and drag you both from your cells kicking and screaming. You worry you were wrong, you worry that you know nothing about death or when he lurks--

Gold light of flame spills forth from the darkness, bursting forth from the corner.

It is Steve who rounds the corner, holding a lantern with a burning flame at its center. Bucky follows after. You and Wanda shift up, your eyes narrowing slightly upon the two. For a terrifying moment you wonder if they’ve been caught, too. Will they swing beside you and Wanda? 

But no-- no, Steve lifts the flaming lantern to see you both. You scuttle away from the light like a creature born of the shadows. 

“Hurry,” Steve says, handing Bucky the jangling keys. “We don’t have much time.” 

Bucky works quickly as you stare in slight astonishment on him, now without the demon that had been clinging to him for so long. However, something remains, something tormented inside of him that will never rest easy. 

When the metal creaks open, you lurch forward, towards Steve. “You’re freeing us?” 

“I promised I would.” Steve responds, honest and simple. 

“What do we do now?” You ask, staring up into his face. 

“We run.” He says with a slight, wry smile at his lips. You want to taste it, you think. You want to tackle him, to crawl into his arms and show you how grateful you are for him. 

“And then?” You breathe.

“I don’t know,” He says, peering into golden, dancing flame of the lantern, but there’s hope traced on the edges. As if maybe there could be something peaceful after all of this, as if maybe you all deserved more than the fires of hell.

But there is no time to talk, there is nothing to be done except become fugitives, spirits stealing away in the night. You walk lightly, Wanda’s small hand in yours, pulling you along the way she always has. You cling to the back of Bucky’s shirt, sometimes he eases you and Wanda in front of him, touches your shoulders and your backs to know that you’re real and still his. 

Steve guides, the lantern in his hand swinging, trying to banish the darkness with the light. He wades into the forest, where he doesn’t know, with his burning flame a bloom against the night. 

The light is obvious, though, and there is a commotion when you are all spotted. 

Shouts, curses, declarations are shouted at you. They ready weapons, ready their hounds, and set them loose upon the four of you. The ugly, open mouths of the towns people try to devour you all. They shout and sway, as if they are possessed with their need to kill you all. 

“Go!” Steve shouts, pushing you and Wanda onward with a rough hand, the light swinging in the darkness like a beacon. 

“Drop the lantern.” You suddenly say, your eyes sparking in the flames with the idea, “Drop the lantern and run!” 

He opens his mouth to question you, to force you onward. But you jolt forward, grab the lantern and knock it from his grasp. It falls from his hands, shatters upon the earth and the flame eagerly leaps out onto the dry, dead grass of the forest. 

Steve jumps out of the way as the smoke begins to curl.

“Let it burn.” You say, grabbing his forearm, trying to pull him along. It takes Bucky shoving at him, before Steve relents and you all take off into the forest like wolves, like foxes being hunted for sport.

The flame grows tall and quick, burning bright and hot against the black, bruised sky. The stars glimmer gold, shine down upon you all as you crash through the forest. The townspeople shout and shriek with the rising flames. 

Wanda laughs suddenly, bright and sharp and wicked and you can’t help but feel a smile creep upon your lips, too. You don’t look back as the fire hungrily eats at the grey bleakness of the town, burns it with blood red and furious orange and rust and the diamond-blue and bright part of the flame that glows like the moon. The town smolders in red now and your lungs burn as you run further from all its atrocities. 

You don’t stop running until the sun peeks through the trees, glowing of gold and robin’s egg blue. You look out at the clearing of a meadow, at the lake that shimmers under the sun, all peach and pearl and honey with the light. 

Your feet are weary, your head heavy and foggy, but Wanda is pressing into your side and Bucky is at your back and you are clinging to Steve’s shirt as you look out at the world.

And finally, you think, with smoke in the distance behind you, the wake of all your destruction, that this new world is filled with color and light you have been hungry for your entire, unforgiving life.  

[smolbeandrabbles]

Humility: Almost Easy/Power & Control - Dave x Reader (Lost River)

Hahahahahhahahaa...  Author’s Note: Okay. I chose Dave of all the suggestions for 2 reasons. 1, I had more of a plot for him. 2, Nolan was the most requested - but I’m working on something similar for him that I assure you won’t be disappointing sequel to Sugar, anyone? As for Vince... Well... Damn. I’ll work on it. SO! It’s a two song fic because I really liked the song @sufferthesea​ sent along for Dave: Power & Control - Marina and the Diamonds AND this AX7 gem Almost Easy worked for this particular premise too... So you better consider it added to the Dave playlist. ** Idea credit to Amanda, because she took my thought and then flipped it a little and added some details so I can’t say this one is whole-y mine. Disclaimer: Lost River came from the (obviously slightly mad) brain of Ryan Gosling / Gifs & lyrics not mine. Premise:  Some of Dave’s performers are fed up with his attitude. It’s time for them to teach him some humility. And they figure that asking his favourite to do this for kicks makes their plan flawless... You’ll agree to do it, for a price.  Words: 4083 Warnings: It’s Dave... come on...  / Swearing / Sexual Connotations / Very subtle dom/sub tones - but also present in both songs.

__________ I feel insane every single time I'm asked to compromise 'Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways And that's the way it stays So how long did I expect Love to outweigh ignorance? By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip Shame pulses through my heart From the things I've done to you It's hard to face but the fact remains That this is nothing new... I'm losing the fight, I've treated you so wrong Now let me make it right I'm not insane, I'm not, not insane… Come back again, it's almost easy (You learned your lesson) Come back to me, it's almost easy (It's still your fault) Come back again, it's almost easy… --- Power & control I'm gonna make you fall Power & control I'm gonna make you fall Women and men, we are the same But love will always be game We give and take a little more Eternal game of tug and war Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good-looking but you're not a piece of art ---

noun

the quality of having a modest or low view of one's importance.

Whispers spread like wildfire. You expected that from the second you got on stage. Bitchy bickering. Or complaining you guessed? It always happened when Dave caught your eye, or your wrist after your act was finished. “Meet me later...” You knew what that meant well enough. You didn’t need him to tell you. Mind you, Dave caught your arm so often his fingerprints might as well have been imprinted into your skin.

It wasn’t that they were jealous of you. Probably the contrary; that didn’t stop the whispers though. And tonight, as you changed, they seemed to be a little louder than usual; “I mean who the hell does he think he is-!? Walking around like he’s better than us?!” “Like he owns the place!” “He does own the place... but still, fair point. We do all the hard work!!” “People come for us - he only ever sings!” “And that’s only on bloody occasion too - not every night!” “We have way better work ethic-! I bet he doesn’t even PAY us fairly.” “I bet he pays himself better than us.” “...Well, he might pay some of us well then...” they all turned around to you, and you saw that from your mirror. You sighed, here we go again. Couldn’t be for love... had to be for money... You supposed it might not even have been for love... maybe just for company... but he wasn’t paying you for your time. They turned back around, whispered muttering you couldn’t hear that made you focus back on your mirror.  You caught the paper tacked there out of the corner of your eye. Dave’s writing; “Room 3”. You took a deep breath. A little part of you was always a little nervous about it. Dave had very distinct moods; if this wasn’t a good one, it might give you problems... “Oh! Y/N..!” They turned back to call your name and you turned, pressing you lips together to even out the lipstick; “Mm?” “Come here a second.” You sighed and stood; this could only be bad. “What’s wrong?” “Nothin’, yet. You seein’ Dave tonight?” Well, they knew you were so it was a stupid question. But they wanted affirmation. “Yes...” “We got an idea...” You didn’t like this one bit already, “Right...” “But we need your help.” You folded your arms, eyes narrowed in suspicion; “Why?” Rob gave you a look like you were dumb; “Because you’re his favourite! He trusts you.” No, you thought, you were his favourite right now. Next week that could all change, especially if someone newer younger and prettier walked in. Dave was always down to seduce the next big thing. “...Well what is it?” “Well, you agree. He thinks he’s great. Right?” “Yeah.” He did, on occasion, get this smug kinda swagger about him that annoyed you.  Clearly not as much as it annoyed them though. “And it’s getting a little out of hand?” “Maybe.” you didn’t want to seem decisive on this “Maybe?! C’mon Y/N don’t be amicable - he thinks he can do whatever the f*** he wants. We gotta stop this before we can’t anymore.” “Well what do you want me to do?!” “He taking you to a room tonight?” You glanced back to your mirror “Yes.” “Give him a taste of his own medicine.” “How?!” “What room?” “Three.” They all looked at each other for a minute, and suddenly you didn’t like the smirks they were all giving each other; “Shells, huh?” That didn’t really bother you. Dave had a remote, sure, but you knew him. “Yes?” You wondered where this was going. “Lock him in one.” “What?!” that sounded about as crazy as they all looked. “Yes! That’s such an excellent idea!!” “You guys do realise the lock mechanism keeps you safe right? And that he has a remote system too?” Rob tipped his head knowingly “Aw, like as if a girl like you can’t wrangle the remote from him?” You frowned at that - yeah, you guessed he had a point. “And… what am I doing this for?” Kat scoffed; “yourself for one!” You almost dared shoot her a look, but Rob cut in before the cat fight could start “The good of all your friends here! Our eternal gratitude? To feel good! Put him in his place? Y/N the list is endless!” You noticed no one was offering up a monetary reward! You shook your head with a smirk; “Okay. But I’m getting bragging rights for at least a year, I get a longer routine AND-!” You put your hands on your hips and turned to Rob, “I get to be the MC. At least a couple of times.” “Well, you gotta prove you did it.” Your smirk only grew; there’s one-way glass isn’t there? You’re welcome to watch.” All of them opened their mouths, hesitated, and looks appeared on their faces which let you know they realised exactly what that would entail. “Bring us the remote and any other proof you can. We’ll take it.” “Alright, you’re on...” you held out your hand to shake; Rob took it, and everyone else grabbed your handshake. You winked; “You guys better be thinking of how many precious seconds you can shave off... I’m coming for them.”

 ** Only that meant by the time the show was over, and pretty much everyone had left. Except the huddled group, because they wanted to make 100% you were going to go ahead with this; you were even more nervous. You could do it sure, but did you want to? Dave was good to you, forward sure - but a good man. And he took care of everyone here. Even if he had a kinda self-important attitude. Still, you saw their point completely. He usually got what he wanted; there was something alluring about him, and you probably weren’t the only girl he’d taken an interest in working here. You’d heard the words ‘Dave Situation’ often enough. In fact you probably weren’t the only girl he was seeing right now. But, you were his favourite.  Apparently.

He stood watching you wait patiently for a few minutes. Leaning on the door frame, with a smile. Such a good girl. But Dave knew that already. He scanned the room, frowning a little at those still loitering. He knew who had clients tonight and who didn’t.  That caused him slight annoyance as he stepped into the dressing room, calling your name. You turned instantly with a sweet smile and he walked towards you. Dave had an energy almost unreadable, that uncertainty gave him power and he knew it. His eyes traced the group who had allowed pause in their talking; “You can go home, right?” He looked between them, “I don’t pay you to stand around here, you don’t earn commission chatting either. Go home. Get rest.” “Yeah we know what we need to do to get paid around here.” You didn’t visibly wince at that obvious shot at what was about to happen between you and Dave; but he simply furrowed his eyebrows. Saying nothing he turned back to you; “You ready?” “Mmm!” You nodded and stood gracefully. “Good... let’s go.” You turned to the group again with a wink; watch this!!

 * 

You always thought that the electronic female voice telling you to play safe was a tad ironic, considering the catered to audience. And you thought that shell safety was a little bit of a joke too. Dave, after all, did have a remote that overrides the lock in system. Who said he didn’t have more he could give out for the right price? You wouldn’t have thought he would though. Even Dave didn’t seem like the kind of man who would put you in danger for money. He waited for the lock to click in place on the entry door and then was on you. Leaving you little-to-no time to take a breath, you found yourself pushed up against the wall in less than seconds. You weren’t wearing a heck of a lot anyway, but your thin coverup didn’t last long - floor - you weren’t about to let him get away with something like that without going for it yourself. Where the hell would he keep his remote, though...? Maybe you could get him to give that information up... You made sure to let him know you didn’t want him wearing his suit jacket too long either - floor. He’d already done the work on his top two buttons, allowing you to push his shirt collar back and kiss his neck.   You got a kick out of the sounds he made, and the way he gripped your hips tighter “...Y/N...” Oh! Well, if you could keep him saying your name like that... You bit him just hard enough, and pushed him back. When he conceded a step you knew this would be easy... it couldn’t have been many to the shell, push him in and lock it, and your work was done.

But Dave wanted your lips back on his. So he pulled you to him, hands running as much of your body as was within reach with you pressed up against him like this. Oh god- Dave... Yes-! He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d certainly never wasted his time with getting in tune with you. Okay, so what if you pulled him to the shell, if you lulled him into a false sense of security... You turned him, tugging him closer to you by his shirt. And your moans were are real as his were. He’d deny you his fingertips if he thought he could. There was nothing quite like the way he touched you. Dave chuckled, as he realised where you were heading. “My, my, so eager?” “Yes...” you pitched your voice at just whiny and needy enough for him to give it to you. “Good girl.” ...c’mon a few more feet... You paused just in front of it and broke his trial of kisses. “What?” You looked between his eyes; it was strange to think that for once this man had no idea what was coming.  You shook your head, kissing him again - this only soft and gentle... and you knew you were asking for forgiveness before you’d even done what you were going to. You took his hands in yours, turning him on the spot. Perfect. Best guess on where the remote was and you could do this; and it’s not like he would mind your hands on his body. But that kiss confused him. Being so different from the rest as it was... he didn’t have time to quiz you though; because you pulled him again, this time undoing a few more buttons, you ran your hands down his body. That picked his groan back up. He wouldn’t have dared leave his remote in his jacket... that ruled that out. It wasn’t in his shirt pocket... that left his pants. And Dave was left handed. “...Careful...” his whispered against your lips as your hands had to run that low; “...don’t make me call you a bad girl just yet...” Only he would be. Considering. The second you found it you broke the kiss - and pushed him. It was pretty hard and athletic for you, but still.  He realised what you’d done far too late and the door closed on him.

At first he sighed, and then laughed; “Oh I see...” but he didn’t. “Funny... let me out.” You at least gave a playful shake of your head “Y/N... don’t make this hard on yourself...” your eyes flicked to his hands searching his pockets. He still thought he had the upper hand. And there was a sick sort of pleasure in watching his face change as he realised he didn’t. “Wh-!” You held the remote up; “Looking for this?” He slammed his hands on the plexiglass - clearly unimpressed. “C’mon, Y/N!” You at least laughed a little, folding your arms “Nah, I think it’s good for you...” Dave’s face changed again, and you’d never seen him look so vulnerable; “W...why??” Your eyes flicked to the club above your heads; “They all think you need a taste of your own medicine. I say they probably have a point...” you threw the remote behind you. You wouldn’t need it for at least a minute; “... I have to watch you... now you have to watch me...”  You tilted your head “...The crew thinks you think you’re too good for us. Guess you have that air, but just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean...” you weren’t even sure Dave was listening as he looked around the enclosed space you’d now trapped him in. If he was looking for an escape route, you could happily confirm for him there wasn’t one. You continued “...I guess they think you have an attitude problem they’d like you to tone down... Me? I’m just not sure I hold your attention... or could ever hope to hold it... and I’m not sure how that makes me feel. But certainly not good. You can’t always do whatever you want and expect it not to have... consequences...”

 Dave sounded like he was laughing, half hysterically. Like all the words you were saying meant nothing. All jokes for him. Only you realised with horror he wasn’t laughing. Dave was having a full on panic attack. SHIT HE’S CLAUSTROPHOBIC!!?! “Oh my god!! Shit!!!” You turned around; with the nonchalant way you’d chucked the remote it could be anywhere and you, nor he, really had the time for you to waste. “Shit! Dave! Just hold on!!!” Damn the seedy lighting in these rooms!! Eventually it glinted at you from a corner and you couldn’t run to it quick enough. Running back to the shell you never thought you’d heard anything that gave you as much relief as Shell Unlocked

Dave all but collapse into yours arms; gripping you tight. “Baby... baby... hush... hush. It’s okay... it’s okay, I’m here...” you sank down onto your knees, cradling him close to you with soothing tones; “Breathe... sweetheart... just breathe...” if you could regulate his breathing, hopefully you could help him calm down. ...well that wasn’t exactly the humble kind of attitude you expected to evoke. Sure you wanted him to meekly beg you, before you to let him out with an agreement that he’d bend to what the guys wanted. So you could put him on his knees and call him a good boy and feel whatever power he did. But this was more like humiliation. And you weren’t so sure he deserved that.  Also, causing a panic attack was the last thing you’d wanted. That was such an awful thing to do. You had a sudden horrific thought; did they know??! Had they asked you to do this because they knew?! It took him a little while to calm down, and he was still clinging onto you even then. “I’m so sorry...” Dave shook his head gently; “Is that how you feel...?” He nodded to the shell “...when you step in that?!” “I’m not claustrophobic, so no. I’m fine... but Dave I’m sorry. If I had any idea...” “That’s why they asked you to do it, isn’t it. Because you didn’t know.” “They do?!” your heart sank and you felt slightly sick – they really had come up with this plan to set off his claustrophobia then… But they didn’t think of you either, did they just expect you to let it happen to him and laugh it off? It hurt you that you’d hurt him. “They probably have some idea...” his breathing was still deep; “Did you mean what you said?” You ran your hands through his hair “We don’t have to talk about that...” “On the contrary... I thought you put me in there to talk about it...” He let out a small laugh “...Good negotiation tactic, I’ll give it that.” You moved your hands slowly as you dared down to his chest. To feel his pulse, under your fingertips - the way it was calming down. Thank Goodness.

Dave lay in your arms in silence for a good while; his only movement a shift to get more comfortable... and his hands found yours, clasping them with a gentle, dare you say affectionate, squeeze.  You bent your body and kissed his forehead with care, making his eyes flick to your face and one hand reach up to touch your cheek. “What are you staying here for?” “I’m staying for you. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He shook his head, with a chuckle that seemed almost out of place; “Is that what it is?” “Mmmm…” You couldn’t help but place your hand over his and fit your fingers between the spaces in his own. “You’re a good girl.” “I...” you wouldn’t disagree, neither would you agree with him. You just humbly bit your lip and dipped your head a little more; “...Can I get you out of here...?” He let you help him get to sitting up and then you stood together - still holding hands that way. “Yeah... sure. What you thinkin’...?” “Room 5?” Even he raised his eyebrow at your suggestion of the bedroom. “Why?” “It’s a little more comfortable that the floor...” you nodded to the shell, “It’s considerably lacking in claustrophobic spaces...” Dave chuckled again; “Aw, she’s good and smart too...” This time you conceded quietly; “I try my best...”

 **

 Your idea with bringing him in here had nothing to do with taking your clothes off. This was much more neutral; it would give him a safe(r) space to just calm down, chat... rest easy...

You shut the door and waited for it to click into a locked position. Please play sa- “SHUT UP!!!” You chided the female voice with annoyance and turned back to him; “Seriously? Do you know how annoying that thing is?!? And talk about IRONIC!!” He sat on the edge of the bed and threw his jacket over the chair “...It’s supposed to be fun! But I’ll take it into account...” Dave ran a hand through his greying hair, and loosened two or three more of his shirt buttons. “But I don’t like your use of the word ironic...” “Safe is about the last word I would use sometimes... this room...” You folded your arms, watching the way his fingers grazed against the fabric of his shirt a little too closely. Ah! Maybe this was a bad idea! You shook the thought away “…This one is something different. This is what goes on between you and me... but the shells, and some of these other rooms. Because of the barriers, I reckon people think they can do whatever they want without consequence.” You walked over to him slowly “Just because I know I’m locked in there, doesn’t mean I feel safe if someone is screaming things I’d rather not repeat, and trying to get me out...” Dave looked a little perplexed at that; and you figured he either was pretending he didn’t know, or he simply thought if he ignored it it wasn’t happening. But his gaze dropped from yours as you sank onto the bed next to him, so you knew he was taking responsibility for it in his head. As he should - as the establishment owner. “I’m...” “Sorry?” You shook your head “It’s a little late for both of us to say that tonight... don’t you think.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” He places his hands on your thighs, over where your own were resting. “Would you have listened?” You gave him a hard look, to let him know you weren’t messing around when you said that. He gave a sigh “...I wish I wasn’t even considering that I might not...” You tipped his chin back with your fingertips, so his eyes faced you; “...We both have a few things to work on, huh?” “What do you have to-!” You placed your finger to his lips; and you got a few seconds satisfaction of having them back on your skin; “I should never have agreed to do it...” He took your hands in his again - he wanted that physical connection too, it seemed - and those grey-blue eyes studied you; “...God, I must be truly awful for you to agree to do this...”

 You weren’t sure he was. That was the problem. Maybe he had good intentions that just didn’t work out. Of all the men you’d interacted with here (besides your colleges), Dave was the only one who cared, and took care of you. Who made you glad that you got to be here with him... and even more glad no one else could. You gave a gentle shrug “Maybe I had stupid selfish reasons...” Dave caught on straight away; “You think I’m seeing someone else.” “Are you?” You tried to not look so hopeful that he’d deny it. “It’s not... like this...” that confused you; because it was neither a yes or a no... You bit your lip “I don’t share well...” That only made him sigh again; “Seems we share that problem.” “Who is she?” “Not you...” “That’s not an answer.” “I know. It’s much less than you deserve. But I am also not at liberty to say...” That had you turning away from him, so he pulled you back - “Y/N... I promise you... you are the only girl I am intent on actively seeing.” “Good. Because I’ll put you in the box again and throw away the remote otherwise.” There was a stalemate of staring for a moment; Dave cracked first; “And... that would be fair...”

The sexual chemistry of the evening had long since passed, and he looked like he was doing a lot better... but you still craved some of that promised intimacy. “Will you hold me..?” “Now?” He opened his body to you; allowing you to wind your arms around him and thread your legs with his “Of course... it is the least you deserve...” Dave could say that all he wanted... but it was obvious he needed it as bad. When he felt you were secure around him, he lay back on the bed; caressing your hair he whispered gentle apologies against your skin. You closed your eyes gently to that - and this once; because of the feeling of him against you like this - you wouldn’t tell him they weren’t good enough.   “Ah-! Shoot!” You broke the silence in a way that had him laughing “What...?” His voice was still soft, and he pressed kisses into your forehead. You opened your mouth with a breath, and then covered it; “No! You know I still feel terrible..! Buuuut...” “Buuuut..?” He repeated with a smile “... I promised them I’d prove I did it...” you muttered with a pout “...Gosh, I’m awful...” Dave snorted “Okay, darling, where’s your proof coming from?” You tipped your head, and couldn’t resist the tease; “Guess you walking in tomorrow looking a little shaken would do the trick, huh?” “Don’t push it...” he growled gently, tracing his kisses across your cheek and jawline “...I said I’d get the remote...” He pulled back, eyebrow raised; “How would that prove it?” “I have it, which means I got it from you and locked you in there, as dictated by the plan...” He propped himself up on his elbow and couldn’t help but look amused “...oh, really? Interesting...” “Uh huh. But that means asking for it back...” “Oh.” He shrugged “Take it... you deserve your proof...”

You were surprised by that - he’d just been through a personal hell but he was still going to tell you win? “Oh you don’t need-” “Consider it a favour. I owe you enough, don’t you think...?” Dave ran his thumb over your lips as he held your chin to keep your gaze on his. “Y-Yes...” you couldn’t help but respond that way to the glint in his eyes. And he went back into his pocket; holding out the remote for you. He chuckled; “You go prove to them you did... I’ll go work on myself... and we’ll go from there. What do you say?” You smiled, taking the remote gently from his hand and looking back to him, lacing your fingers with his once more; you asked him for a kiss and he granted you with what you wanted. Pushing his forehead to yours he kept you barely millimetres apart, tangled up together. “I think... that’s a good idea.”

--- Thank You For Requesting!! We are ALL 7 Virtues down! 🎉 2 Sins to go! @dennismitchell  @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. 💜❤💙

[the-gayest-dump]

A half-orc and his ax. Chapter 2: Unlikely allies and enemies.

   Ox counted the supplies he had gained from his trip to Warwick while following the road. Bandages, various medicines, and a whetstone in case his ax needed sharpening after the battle was done. He didn’t have any currency the town used so he had to barter with pelts and meats from previous hunts.  

  Soon enough he found the fort the townspeople described to him. From the outside, almost the entire fort seems to be made of stone with a wall slightly higher than the towns but only a few wooden archer towers were at the front to protect the main entrance. A large stone tower rose from the center of the fort that seemed to be the main building. The only way Ox could see to get in would be through the door as even if he could make a ladder he would be shot down from it in an instant. 

   He grabbed his ax off of his back and mentally prepared himself for the coming fight before walking to the main gate. He could hear the archers nock their bows as he approached and heard a man's voice yell “Unless you’re here to pay tribute to the next ruler of Rosela you’d best fuck off before you become more holes than person!”

   Ox analyzed his soon to be opponent. Poorly made and loose leather armor covered his vital areas and a simple wooden bow was aimed at Ox’s chest. Clearly, the leader hoarded the best weaponry. This would be a nice stress reliever for Ox but not a very challenging battle. He stared into the eyes of the archer that spoke to him and simply replied “Ox is here to kill all bastards and send skulls to nice town.” Instead of continuing their pleasant conversation the archers started letting loose their arrows. Ox was able to dodge into the archway and take advantage of a weakness he had noticed from afar. With the towers only protecting the front they had no way to shoot into the archway that held the gate and with no bandits on the ground, all they could do is wait for Ox to cut down an entrance or open the gate and meet him head-on. The brute started to make himself angry as he attacked the door. He thought of the death of the battleborn tribe, the casualties these bandits must have caused Warwick, and most of all how scared the little one must be without her mothers and surrounded by bastards. 

   After a few strikes, the bandits chose to meet him head-on. Several cowbells had been rung as a makeshift alarm. They grouped up at the gate before opening it but Ox was ready. He charged through the wall of fighters and went straight for the archers that had gone to the back to pelt him down while he fought the swordmen. The archers fired the arrows they had prepared and tried to get their daggers ready while the swordsmen got back up but they were not quick enough. Arrows pierced the berserker's sides but he could barely feel them as his rage took over. Running into the line of archers a quick spin of his ax took off two archers heads. As their corpses fell three daggers tried to get to his heart but were too low. A kick to the chest sent the one in front of him back and knocked down a swordsman who had just gotten up and two slices finished off all but the one archer who was now running towards the tower to alert their leader.

   With the archers dealt with the swordsmen surrounded Ox. This area was too open and not good for what Ox had planned. He charged forward and swung as hard as he could at a smaller bandit causing them to fall over and make an opening for him. The swordsmen probably missing their archers ran after the brute as he went up the stairway to the wall the archers had threatened him from. With the staircase acting as a funnel it was much easier to cut the ones in front down as others tried to take their place. Some were smart and tried to go to another staircase to flank him but it was on the other side of the gate and with their forces divided it was simple work to slaughter the rest of them. 

   A primal roar forced Ox’s attention to the base of the tower as his target glared daggers at him. He had a chance to get a closer look at him from here. Scales covered six feet of this humanoid that were white as fresh snow. Sharp talons covered the leader's hands and feet but only three fingers and a thumb held onto his weapon of choice which was a greatsword with a red gemstone in the hilt. Unlike his underlings, he wore steel armor across his chest and lower body but did not cover his face, hands, or feet presumably to make use of his talons and sharp jaw. 

“You’ve got talent Orc I’ll give you that. No wonder all my other camps fell to you and your damned tribe. But your killing spree ends here! I’m the descendant of a white dragon! I’m gonna make you a nice ice statue for my bedroom! You’ve got no tribe to back you up, no help coming to save you, and I’ve got no mercy!” he gave another roar as he charged up the stairs to meet Ox head-on but he was ready. An overhead slice was blocked by the long handle of Ox’s ax as he kicked him back to make space. He didn’t go as far as the archer had and instead of predictably charging again the chief instead opened his jaw as a blizzard came from it freezing the stone under him as it threatened to swallow Ox whole.

   He was not prepared to dodge and instead threw himself off the wall where he painfully fell on his side. As he tried to get up the chief jumped off with his sword held high hoping to bury the sword in his heart. A roll saved him as the landing forced some of the ground to give way to the energy of his impact. As the chief got his weapon free Ox was able to stand and slice his side. A startled cry came from the bandit leader as he got his sword free and retaliated with a swing at the berserker's arms. He thought he could safely dodge the attack but his legs felt strangely heavy and could not move them well. A quick look down showed he had not completely dodged the breath attack as the torn parts of his boots and pants showed bright red skin and his legs felt unusually cold and slower than the rest of his body 

   “You’re fucked now orc! That cold is gonna spread through you like a wildfire! Even if you kill me you won’t have enough time to get back to Warwick for a cleric! You’re dead meat! So do us both a favor and just die already!” A quick swing aimed to take Ox’s head off but he was able to crouch down and used the force of coming back up to swing his ax up into the bandits face cutting it in half through the center. As his blood sprayed across Ox’s body they both fell to the ground. He took off his boots and searched through his bag. Quickly now what could be used to stop the cold? Herbs used to stop bleeding? No, Pills to stop the pain? No. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! He could feel the cold going up his legs and to his heart as he searched. Ox couldn’t die now. He wouldn’t die now! He got angrier and angrier thinking of the little one still trapped in the tower. Who would know to come here and save her? Who would know the bastards are dead and travel is safer now? He screamed his anger to the skies as his body quickly went through hypothermia and passed out. 

   Cold...Everything is so cold. Where is fire? Ox wants fire like at home camp.....Warm? What is warm? Is there a fire? It felt like the sun had started shining brighter, hotter. Ox opened his eyes but quickly closed them again as blinding light assaulted his eyes. He could hear faint chanting from a soft voice. 

“Marisol bless this stranger with your healing light. Let the dragons cold evil breath be filled with the warm love from your heart. Grant him life upon this day so he may keep safe those who praise your name”

   The light grew stronger as warmth returned to Ox’s body. He could feel his legs again and opened his eyes once the light had faded to see a woman with long blond hair in steel armor with a strange symbol on it standing next to him with her eyes close holding her hands together. She opened her eyes to reveal light blue eyes with a kind soul behind them. Almost as if her happiness radiated out of them. 

“Yay! You’re safe! I worried I had come too late and would have to bury you on your final battlefield. Oh. Apologies. My name is Hana. I’m a cleric or Marisol and I came to help you in your fight but it seems the fighting has already stopped. Do you need a hand?”

   She lowered her hand and Ox gently grasped it and let her help him up. “Ox is Ox. What was light? How did happy one know of Ox?” 

   “Oh. My wife is the head of the guards in town. When she said there was a newcomer to town I wanted to meet you but you had already left. I asked her what you were in a hurry for and when she told me of the bounties you took I knew no one could handle Alasar alone. It seems you almost proved me wrong if only you had not been touched by his magic breath” She said looking at the pool of blood that surrounded the leader's corpse. “As for the light that was Marisol’s healing light. As I said I’m a cleric and spread her love around the world...Or at least I used to before I settled down in Warwick. Now help heal the town of Warwick and lead prayers.”

   “Why light goddess help Ox? Gods hate Ox. Gods let Battleborns die after killing bastards.”

   “Battleborns?” She said looking along Ox’s body and seeing his clans burnt banner along his belt. She gave a shocked gasp and looked up at him “You’re with the group that was killing bandits and returning stolen property a year ago!? Everyone at Warwick has been wondering what happened to them.” Remembering the burns on the banner and Ox’s words she lost her excitement “Oh. I’m sorry to hear about your camp. Were there any survivors?”

   “Only Ox. Ox try to keep battleborn war against bastards going but is hard without tribe.”

   “Well how about we get Sylis and your trophy to town so you can be rewarded and we’ll make sure you’re properly rewarded for your work. I’ll let you do the...uh....’ honors’” she said pointing to the leader. 

   He took the hint and quickly cut off the dragonborns head as Hana looked away and he cut a hole for it to hang on his belt. They both entered the tower which was showed clear signs of being left in a hurry. The first floor was a dining hall with now cold food all around. Going up a floor was the bandits training area where recently used arrows still stuck out of training dummies made of hay. Finally, the third floor was what they were searching for. The chief's room. Trophies of humanoid heads littered the room with what must have been a luxury bed for them but was just a regular inn bed at the far wall of the room.  Near the bed, chains were bolted into the wall and a half-elf girl with dark brown hair was staring helplessly at the ground. Hana began walking forward but the brute's arm stopped her in her tracks. 

   “Shh. Ones captured by bastards afraid of loud noises. Let Ox help.” His entire personality seemed to change before Hana as he carefully stepped towards the girl. Sylis flinched as she heard his footsteps and looked up at him with fearful eyes “Are...Are you here to hurt me? I promise I won’t talk back again I just want to know if my parents are ok!” Ox gave a gentle “shhh” as he came closer. She looked away from him in fear. 

   “Be still.” He warned her. Ox held his ax high and cut the chains binding her. The little girl looked at her freed hand in shock and looked at the brute who was now sitting next to her. All she could do is hug him and cry. She cried to her what seemed like days and went on about how the bandits had abused her for fun and she just wanted to go home. She cried herself into exhaustion and fell asleep him Ox’s arms. He gently picked her up and walked out of the tower with Hana. Hana was shocked at how well this giant of a man could handle the little girl. How someone who had cut a Dragonborn's face in half and took on a bandit camp by himself could also be so gentle and caring for someone in need was beyond her. 

   With the girl safely in his arms and the leader's head not so safely dangling off his belt Ox and Hana returned to Warwick for some well-deserved rest.

[homesoutofhuman]

Donuts for breakfast- Johnny Utah (Point Break) x Reader

I couldn’t resist posting what I’ve written so far. As usual I got carried away, so this will be more than one part.

Warnings: Smut, guns, cops, Johnny being a bit of a dom (sorry not sorry), more uses of the f word than you’ve even heard Keanu say.

Part one- You never get a second chance to make a first impression

You’ve been at the LA FBI office for a couple of months, but are still the newest recruit, so everyone gives you shit, as is tradition. You know it’s only to toughen you up, a kind of hazing ritual everyone has to go through, but still, it’s getting to you, the constant teasing and aggression is wearing you down. You sense that it’s made worse because you transferred from outside of the US, these cops really don’t like outsiders.

“Hey Rookie…” Special Agent Utah shoots you a glance as you move into the break room. When you originally met him on your first day at work, you saw he was the most attractive man you’d ever encountered in your life and decided you could hardly look at him, never mind speak to him. 

You duck your head, shooting him a quick smile but heading straight to retrieve your salad. Another cop, Agent Fields, kicks the door of the fridge closed so it shuts in your face. You blink at him in shock, feeling tears smarting in your eyes at the unnecessary cruelty. Turning, you get the hell out of there before anyone sees you cry.

Sitting at your desk, trying to ignore the rumble of hunger in your stomach, your thoughts are disturbed by Special Agent Utah clearing his throat and placing a red and white can in front of you.

“I brought you a Coke.” He deposits the drink on your desk and you stare up at him. He shrugs in response. “You can’t be a real American if you don’t drink coke.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a real American.” you shoot back, poking the can suspiciously as if it were a trap.

“Well you’ve got a really fucking miserable vibe going on and I can’t have it affecting my surfer zen”

Despite yourself you feel a smile tugging at your mouth “What the fuck is surfer zen?”

“You know...shell necklaces, bare feet, being at one with the water, all that…” he gestures as if you have a clue what he’s talking about, then you remember that he’s on some high profile robbery case where the suspects are surfers, and his casual dress makes more sense. You did wonder how the hell he got away with wearing jeans and tank-tops to the office.

“I’ll talk to them…” he says, in a more gentle voice, but when you look up he’s already walking away, smirking back at you over his shoulder. You crack open the can, the sound satisfying to your ears even as you wince at the ingredients, the drink perks you up, gives you energy and helps you get through the day. You tell yourself sternly it’s the sugar and caffeine and not the man who gave it to you.

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

He’s so fucking loud. You think with frustration. Your plan to avoid Johnny Utah is not as well as you hoped, seeing as he likes to make his presence felt wherever he goes, and for some reason, he’s always wherever you are. He’s caught on to tormenting you, and now, with a very few agents left in the office, when you should be able to have some quiet time to finally catch up on your paper work, he is choosing to have a party with his partner, jumping up on the desks to simulate surfing.

Powered by rage you move to the door of their office and shake you head when you see them drinking beer, surrounded by a mess of files.

“Is there any chance you guys can take this to the pub? I have work to do.” You try to ask nicely, but you see the flash in Johnny’s eyes when someone tries to tell him what to do, and you know he won’t have it.

“The pub?” he scoffs “What the hell are you talking about Rookie this is LA.” He stands up and makes his way over to you, knowing his height will make you feel intimidated. “And besides, this is our fucking office, and we’ll do whatever the fuck we want in here. Want a sip?”

He offers you his nearly full bottle and you shake your head.

“Shame. It could help with the discomfort you must be in from walking around with that stick up your ass.”

Feeling anger overtake your shyness you grab the bottle from him, triumphing briefly at his look of surprise. Then you hoist yourself up on to his desk so you can finally look down on him. “Cheers.” you say, raising the bottle in his direction before downing the entire thing in three chugs.

The look on his face is one you will savour forever. Pure utter shock replaced by awe, then a kind of pride. He slow claps you as you awkwardly jump down from the table. “That was fucking epic Rookie. Come on Pappas, we’ll finish this up another time.”

You watch them go before what you’ve done sinks in and you suddenly panic you’ll be fired, but the only consequence of your daring outburst is that a bond forms between you and Special Agent Utah, and you become something like friends.

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

The day you’ve been dreading arrives. Everyone is getting fitted with their guns, but the supervisor skips over you, tells you to stay behind after, reminds you that you need to be signed off by a superior officer before you can be cleared to carry, and if you can’t carry, you can’t be in the field.

Gossip spreads like wildfire and you’re the joke of the office. You try to explain that your old force didn’t wear guns so you just didn’t get accredited, but no one wants to hear it. They are happy that the heat’s off them and on you, telling you to sit tight at home and make the tea while they do a man’s job.

Johnny comes in, looking like a prince as usual and they all quickly fall about to tell him, despite knowing you are a favourite of his, they can’t help themselves. Johnny chuckles at the news but shakes his head, as if to show they are fussing over nothing, and finds you later, sitting on the cold steps behind the FBI building.

“I can teach you to shoot you know.” he says, sitting beside you. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed, sick of it all, and the last thing you want is pity.

“I don’t need your help Johnny.” you growl spitefully.

Johnny holds up his hand in surrender “Hey, I’m just saying…”

“....I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” you repeat, cutting him off. You cannot bear the thought of being his charity case.

“Not helping just...shooting next to you. I really like shooting stuff.”

You laugh despite your terrible gloomy mood. “I’m sorry, thank you, I could really use someone to come with me but I just don’t want our…friendship...to be like that…” you finish, lamely.

“Listen Rookie, I’d be going anyway. My world does not revolve around you.” he reassures you.

And don’t I know it, you think sadly

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

As you enter the shooting range the noises, the smell, makes you nervous. Johnny is striding confidently beside you, and you both find a booth to get set up. You still feel humiliated, but you need to get this done. Johnny fires off a few rounds beside you and you adjust your stance a little to mirror his, shuffling your legs out wider than you feel they should go, and let your eyes run over his body, his broad shoulders and shapely muscles arms, snapping back to his eyes when he turns to meet your gaze.

“You know Utah, a person could say, you’re so obsessed with guns because you have a small penis.”

“A person could say that. They’d be wrong, but they could say it.”

Your eyes drift to his 501s and when you glance back up he’s smirking at you

“If you need confirmation of my dick size, all you need to do is ask baby.”

Cheeks burning, you look away, aiming your gun back at the target. “I’ve got a feeling that would leave a bad taste in my mouth.”

Johhny gives a choked laugh in response and you smile quietly in triumph, pull the trigger of your gun and miss by miles.

He’s by your side before you can even raise your shoulder, one hand on your lower back, the other on your arm, pushing it down a little roughly. His breath ghosts the shell of your ear and if you weren’t holding a firearm you’d close your eyes and shiver. Instead you bite your lip hard enough to pierce the skin, wincing at the blood on your tongue.

“Centre your fucking hips, you really are so unaware of your body.” Johnny murmurs, sounding annoyed at you, unfairly you think, for something you cannot control.

Attempting to stretch out the tension in your neck you turn yourself as he instructs, feel his hand nudging at your hip bone, before splaying low on your thighs. His touch seems to be everywhere, all over your body, all at once, and even the lightest trace of his fingers against your skin sets it burning.

“Sexual harassment is a serious thing Johnny.” you growl as you feel his belt digging into your back.

“I agree, but I’m just helping you with your shooting. Hold your arms strong. Are you planning to file a report about me?”

“No.” you answer in a small voice, feeling defeated. “Maybe.”

“You’re funny. I like that.” Standing behind you, Johnny tucks you hair behind your ear, his finger caressing down the side of your neck.

“You know there’s something very sexy about you holding a gun Rookie. Something even sexier about the way you follow my orders.”

Groaning, you attempt to move away from him slightly, feeling your cheeks burning. “You’re perverted, Utah.”

“Something tells me you are too. Shoot.”

You squeeze the trigger without thinking, hit the target right in the head.

“You’re a killer Rookie. Who knew?”

You tell yourself that not murdering him is enough thanks for his help. When you return to the office the others demand to see your certificate and crowd around you, patting you on the back. Your eyes search for Johnny in the crowd, but he is leaving with his surfboard and he simply gives you a silent nod goodbye.

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

It’s early morning when you next see Johnny. You’ve come in to do some overtime to help with your bills, and you see him, sitting at the break table, long legs up on another chair, disregarding anyone else who might want to sit there. You go over to him, still a little shy at first. His lankly limbs and their lazy elegance are not helping the situation.

“Donuts for breakfast Utah? That’s disgusting.”

He gives a delighted whoop of joy at your statement. “You are kidding. This is a classic American breakfast. Coffee and donuts, try it.”

“No thanks I’ll pass.”

He sits up suddenly in the chair, and you can see his eyes darken and gleam with mischief. “You have to eat one. You owe me.”

“For fucks sake Johnny…” you start but he holds up a hand. “Uh uh uh...fairs fair Rookie. You’re a bad girl and you never said thank you Officer Utah for teaching me to shoot, for touching me so gently, for not taking advantage like I…”

“JOHNNY!” you interrupt, shocked, and he peals off, sniggering, before getting that determined look on his face again. 

“No point in shouting, we’re the only two here. Open your fucking mouth Rookie.”

The way he says it, the command, soft as velvet but firm, makes you shiver down to your bones. You don’t know why your body responds to him like it does, but you are sick of the agony. Giving him a defiant look you open your mouth, flattening your tongue and sticking it out towards him, tipping your head back slightly as if begging for it. Johnny’s cheeks go pink and he leans over you, dark eyes flicking over your face as if memorising the image. “Good girl…”

He picks up a long cruller and you almost laugh at the symbolism as he brings it to your lips. “Don’t bite yet, let the sugar dissolve on your tongue.”

Rolling your eyes you hold his gaze, waiting for permission. There is a beat too long that stretches the joke into something else, and you move to pull away. He immediately grabs your arm, looking desperate and hungry. “Wait, I want you to try it…please” his voice is soft despite his strong grip and without knowing why you obey, letting him feed you, holding the mouthful on your tongue until he nods and you swallow.

Johnny sucks his thumb and wipes sugar off the corner of your mouth. You can feel the heat from his skin warming you even more and you wonder if he’s getting sick. “Well?”

Chewing, you regard him as impassively you can, swallowing and tilting your head, weighing up your decision. “Okay, you got me, it’s fucking tasty, but still vilely fattening.”

“Like we give a fuck Rookie we’re young wild and free!” He lifts his shift to show you a very flat stomach and your eyes focus on a scar that runs over his bellybutton, a trail of dark hair leading down inside his jeans. 

“You’re a caveman.” you tell him. 

“You love it.”  he crows, and you don’t disagree.

TBC- we got angst coming- please tell me what you think!

[shenglingyuan]

title: for lotus is a symbol of resurrection and unwavering faith (ao3) pairing: wei wuxian/jiang cheng summary: It’s because a promise still binds his heart, and the blind hope of someone’s miraculous return stops him from being able to move on.

day 18: a pairing that deserves more love: Lotus Bros ship, XianCheng ;A;

If Jiang Cheng has to sit through another matchmaking, he’s afraid he’ll turn into a monk and live the solitary life in the mountains instead. If it isn’t for his resolve to rebuild the Yunmeng Jiang Sect to its former glory, he would have ran away long ago. People tell him he has too high of a standard. There isn’t anything wrong there, is it? Why must he settle for less if he knows what he rightfully deserves?

 Well, that’s what he tells everyone. Deep in his heart, Jiang Cheng knows his ultimate reason for not being into the idea of settling down. It’s because a promise still binds his heart, and the blind hope of someone’s miraculous return stops him from being able to move on.

 -

 The Cloud Recesses hasn’t changed much from the last time he has been here. After all, only a season passed since he visited. He’s reading the numerous rules of the GusuLan Sect on the stone walls when he feels the presence of Lan Xichen approaching.

 “Sandu Shengshou, you’ve graced us again with your presence,” Xichen greets him with a familiar smile. This isn’t the first time he’s been to their sect, but Lan Xichen has remained polite to him nevertheless.

 “Zewu-jun, as before, thank you for accommodating me.”

 Xichen’s smile doesn’t fade, but a tinge of sadness fills his eyes, “Then please, follow me.”

 The two sect leaders walk up the flights to the Frost Room. Jiang Cheng needs no guidance to go Xichen’s room; among his handful of dreams, this pathway is one of the two peaceful scenes. Green leaves decorate the cold steps and cold air sweeps against Jiang Cheng’s face.

 “I imagine the summer is making the Lotus Pier lively these days,” Xichen comments, filling the silence. “I have always admired the sight of the flower blooming whenever we travel through the river.”

 The polite thing to do is compliment the Cloud Recesses as well. Jiang Cheng is already used to this courtesy between sect leaders, but he knows Xichen will understand even if he does not reply. The other man knows anyway the sole reason why he even came in the first place.

 Not long after, they arrive at the Frost Room. Jiang Cheng enters first, followed by Lan Xichen who only closes the door after making sure no one is around the area. They go further inside the room. Jiang Cheng takes his place in the middle of the small hall as Xichen draws the windows closed.

 “It’s been almost thirteen years. I admire your tenacity, Sandu Shengshou,” Xichen remarks, sitting directly in front of him. He takes out Liebing. At the same time, Jiang Cheng pulls out a flute as well: Chenqing. “Ready?”

“Thank you for your guidance,” Jiang Cheng bows slightly before putting the flute to his lips.

 Both leaders take deep breaths at the same time, and then, the same melody started to play from their respective flutes.

 The duet resonate within the closed hall, reaching out to an unfathomable realm that Jiang Cheng wishes he could just glance into. Just a simple vision, or a simple answer...he can’t truly ever feel peace until he finds him .

 After repeating the whole melody thrice, the two finally put their flutes down.

 “You still remember all of it,” Xichen comments, “That’s good.”

 “Nothing has changed.” Jiang Cheng clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white. “Zewu-jun...is it just because he won’t answer to me ?”

 “The song we played might not be as powerful as Inquiry , but its melodies are based on that. Technically, it should serve and provide the same purpose. If even Inquiry doesn’t work, then I don’t think the problem is with you.”

 His words catch Jiang Cheng’s attention. “ Inquiry doesn’t work? How do you know this?”

 Xichen seems caught off guard, but he is quick to smile as if nothing is amiss, “We had Wangji play it during the earlier years. To make sure. The Yiling Patriarch never heeded the call.”

 -

 During the early years of Wei Ying’s demise, several cultivators have tried to summoned him back. Jiang Cheng isn’t among them. How could he, when it is by his own hands that his closest friend, the person he trusted the most, came to die. Among Jiang Cheng’s handful of dreams is a never-ending loop of him driving the blade through Wei Ying’s body.

 He can’t quite remember when, but at some point, on a quiet night as he was about to sleep, he wept for the friend that he himself killed. The next day, he went to Cloud Recesses to ask for Lan Xichen’s help. To his surprise, the Lan Sect leader easily agreed, only that what they would be doing must be kept a secret to anyone. Inquiry is a piece especially made for the guqin so Xichen took it upon himself to compose a similar melody for the flute with the same power. It has been as effective for other souls, but never did Wei Ying anwer.

 Words about the fall of the Yiling Patriarch spread through the lands like wildfire, and along with it is Jiang Cheng’s name and his big part in the siege. Many cultivators see him as a hero, doing the grand act of killing his own shige despite their years of being as close as real brothers.

 But what is the truth? Only he himself knows that as soon as that his blade went into Wei Ying’s chest, it felt as if he has also killed a part of himself.

 -

 “Jiang Cheng! Jiang Cheng!” Wei Ying’s bright voice cut through the humid summer air.

 It was a few months after Jiang Cheng’s return from studying at Cloud Recesses. Madam Yu just reprimanded him again, telling him that he was being laid back. Are you not the next Sect Leader? Start acting like one! Ever since his return, it seemed as if his mother had been even more on the edge. What was she being too hurried for?

 Ignoring the calls from Wei Ying, he picked up a nearby pebble and threw it into the river as strong as he could.

 “There you are!”

 He bent down to pick up a pebble and threw it himself onto the river. It bounces off a few times before sinking at a point farther than where Jiang Cheng threw his. Feeling satisfied, he sat with a playful smile.

 “Don’t you have duties with the juniors?” Jiang Cheng asks as he picks another pebble. He threw it again with all his strength. The pebble bounces off and sank just a bit behind where Wei Ying’s pebble ended up.

 “Just finished. I heard what happened at the hall, hey,” he reached for Jiang Cheng, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Don’t take it to heart. For the juniors, and especially for me, all the things you’ve done have already made you worthy to be our next Sect Leader.”

 A warm feeling tickled at Jiang Cheng’s heart. He didn’t know quite what to say. There is literally no one who trusted and believed in him so much as Wei Ying did. With him by his side, it felt like he could do anything, be anything he believed he can be. Jiang Cheng finally smiled, his shoulder losing the tension he’d been holding since his encounter with his mother.

 He clasped the hand that was on his shoulder, holding tightly. “You better be around to see me be one.”

 “Ha. Is there anywhere else I can go? I’ll be staying by your side even when you don’t want me anymore.”

  And why wouldn’t I want you? Jiang Cheng almost spoke the words. Instead, he said, “Don’t be an idiot,” and pushed Wei Ying, causing him to fall down.

 “Ow, what was that for?”

 Jiang Cheng had already stood up with a satisfied smile on his face, his arm out. Wei Ying looked at it once and grabbed on to it, pulling himself up.

 “If you plan to stay for a long time, then better make yourself useful now. Come, we have things to do.”

 Wei Ying smiled brightly, “Whatever you wish, Sect Leader .”

 -

 Upon his arrival back at Lotus Pier, he finds Jin Ling waiting for him. He pats the flute hidden within his clothes, making sure it will not be seen especially by his nephew. The boy grew up hating on Wei Ying because of what happened to his parents. Jiang Cheng can’t begin to imagine how betrayed he would feel if he finds out what he’s been doing all these years.

 “Uncle!” Jin Ling puts his hands before him and bows, “Welcome back.”

 News of hauntings in Dafan Mountain has reached them. Several cultivating clans have already made their move. Jin Guangyao has asked him, upon Jin Ling’s request, to train the boy in night-hunting.

 “I assume you’re more than ready for tonight.”

 “Yes, Uncle,” he stands straight, one of his hands automatically holding onto the sword on his waist. Jiang Cheng notices the pile of diety-binding nets stacked on the floor. Good thing his subordinates are able to purchase it before his return. He points them to Jin Ling.

 “Good. With all those things with you, don’t even think of asking me again to train you if you fail tonight.”

 Jin Ling visibly flinches at his words, his hands tightening around the hilt of his sword. Jiang Cheng can’t help but be strict with his only nephew. It’s the way his mother has trained him after all. There’s no way he’d turn away the only remaining family he has left.

 Jiang Cheng returns to his room to prepare. His eyes land on the scroll he has kept hidden inside his cabinet. On it is a sketch of a lotus flower, drawn by Wei Ying himself. He places a hand over his chest, his heart hurting anew at the memory of its creation. He placed it himself in that place knowing he’ll always see it. It’s his quiet devotion to always remind himself of the things he did, the things that he should have done, and the things he lacked.

 -

 “What are you doing out here?” Jiang Cheng found Wei Ying alone by the pagoda. The moon was bright up on the sky. Fireflies illuminated the surroundings like stars. “ Jie said you weren’t feeling well.”

 “Ah,” Wei Ying groans, “Why did she tell on me?”

 Jiang Cheng could tell he’s trying to make light of his situation, but he could feel Wei Ying’s troubled emotions. He took the spot next to him, bumping his shoulder lightly.

 “So, what kind of thing can actually put you down like this?”

 Wei Ying let out a laugh. “It’s not as much as ‘putting me down’. I was just thinking.”

 “Thinking? I’m pleasantly surprised, didn’t know you’re capable of that.”

 “Hey!” Wei Ying made a face at him, “I probably do it better than you.”

 “You!” He hit his shoulder a bit too hard. Wei Ying yelps in pain. “Don’t you have more important things to say?”

 Jiang Cheng looked at Wei Ying’s face then. His playful expression was suddenly gone, replaced by something wistful and incomprehensible. “Indeed, I do.”

 “Then tell me.”

 Wei Ying let out a huge sigh, craning his neck to the side. “Sometime ago, Yanli- jie talked to me. It was when her betrothal to Jin Zixuan got broken off. She mentioned about wanting to search for her true love.”

 Wei Ying paused, as if something suddenly occurred to him. The sound of crickets overtook the silence. Jiang Cheng waited patiently for him to continue. It was rare for Wei Ying to talk about something so serious, especially in such tone. It was obvious whatever his thoughts were, it weighed heavily in his heart.

 “Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying spoke again, his voice lower, “Have you ever thought about searching for love?”

 He frowned at the question. “That’s-”

 “Answer me honestly,” Wei Ying interrupted, “I know you’re going to say it’s not your priority. But I’m sure you’ve thought about it.”

 It was futile to evade the topic.

 “You’re right. I’ve thought about it. In passing.”

 “And? What kind of person would you like to spend the rest of your life with?”

 His heart almost skipped a beat at the question. The answer was literally a breath away.

 “Spend the rest of my life with? Then that topic, it doesn’t have to be about love, does it? Because the answer to that question is someone like you. Ah, no,” Jiang Cheng shook his head, “Not someone like you. It has to be you. You promised me, didn’t you? You’d stay by my side. You’re all I need.”

 Wei Ying’s face even become more unreadable. He looked away, towards the lotus flowers that were hiding in the water, a smile lining his face.

 “Lotus flowers have different colors, you know. And each color holds a different meaning. I’ve learned that one of those is ‘unwavering faith’, do you know of it?”

 “Now you’re on a different topic entirely. Tell me, what’s bothering you?”

 “No, this is about your answer to me. Really, Jiang Cheng, where have you learned to say such words?” Wei Ying laughed. “I have faith in you, and you have faith in me. Jiang Sect’s lotus symbol might mean a different thing, but for the two of us, it means our unwavering faith in each other.” He pulled out a scroll from the waist of his robes and gave it to Jiang Cheng. “Here, have this.”

 Jiang Cheng took the scroll without question. He unrolled it, not knowing what quite to expect. To his pleasant surprise, it was a drawing of a lotus flower in full bloom.

 “A testament of your faith on me?”

 “That lotus has no colors, so you can interpret it as you like,” Wei Ying smiled, hinting at something Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite figure out. “I have my own meaning in my mind when I was making it.”

 “It’s so rare of you to be this enigmatic,” Jiang Cheng rolled the scroll again, keeping it by his side this time, “Nevertheless, I’ll treasure this.”

 “As you should,” Wei Ying crossed his arms, raising his chin haughtily, “I took time in making that. My ghost will haunt you forever if you even destroy a fiber of that masterpiece.”

 “Alright, alright. Come on now, you’ve stayed here for far too long,” Jiang Cheng stood up, getting ready to leave. “ It’s getting cold.”

 The other boy remained in his seat. “I’ve promised I’ll stay by your side. But do you promise the same thing to me?”

 “Is that what has been bothering you? Things like this, do you still have to ask? When I become the Sect Leader, and even until my cultivation level becomes low, or even if I’m gray and old...as long as you and I breathe, we’ll be on each other’s side. It’s a promise.”

 The face Wei Ying made remained engraved in his mind. A face that was so profound, as if he has found something so precious and once in a lifetime. At that moment, Jiang Cheng didn’t know what it meant.

 And when he finally did, it was already too late.

 -

 “Who is your uncle, anyway?”

 Jiang Cheng hears the words nearby. A youth with a messy hair and worn-down clothes is standing over Jin Ling who’s on the ground. Who dares touch Jin Ling within his sight?

 “I am his uncle,” Jiang Cheng reveals himself, appearing from the overgrowth. “Any last words?”

 The moon, previously covered by clouds, shows itself, illuminating the dark forest.

 “Jin Ling, I accompanied you to hunt, not to see you disgrace yourself. Get up this instant.”

 Jiang Cheng suddenly feels the presence of dark cultivation energy. In reflex, he takes hold of the leaf talisman that was removed from Jin Ling, destroying it in his hand. The young boy immediately stands up and runs behind him.

 It’s only then that Jiang Cheng finally looks at the perpetrator —

 It feels like waking up from a dream.

 Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand how, but looking at the person standing in front of him, he knew . No matter what form he takes, it’s as if the bond of their souls led him to recognizing the person he promised to stay with.

 Jiang Cheng sees the terror in his eyes and he can’t help but feel pain. Understandable. What he did to him in his first life, he doesn’t know how to completely make up for it. Jin Ling is still standing behind him, but he pays no mind. He steps forward, slowly. The person before him takes a step back.

 “It’s you,” Jiang Cheng slowly approaches him, afraid that if he scares him away, he might not find him again. His next words, he whispers, “Wei Ying.”

 The person obviously looks caught off-guard. He freezes in place, his eyes now wide in shock.

 Thirteen years. The last time they’ve been in front of each other, Jiang Cheng drove a blade through his body. What is he supposed to say?

 Jiang Cheng takes a bigger step forward, holding the person by his wrist.

 “Wei Ying,” he says his name again, much softer this time. Just how he used to call it back in Lotus Pier. Just like the old times. “Wei Wuxian. I’m sorry.”

 “Jiang Cheng,” His voice is different, but he says his name exactly as how he used to. He used to be taller than him, but now, in this new body, Wei Ying has to look up to him.

 “You can go home with me. To Lotus Pier.”

 Wei Ying stops struggling against his hold. “Do you mean that?”

 “As long as you and I breathe, remember?”

 Wei Ying’s new face breaks into a familiar smile.

 There are too many words that need be exchanged, too many truths that need to be cleared. One night may not even be enough. Jin Ling will be severely confused; he’ll have to explain later. But right at this moment, Jiang Cheng only had one thought in mind: to fulfill his promise of staying by his side.

 -

[tcshearts]

Session 1 (the Hunt), Chapter 1 - Phoenix

Content Warning: Death, PTSD

“Fuck this.” I mutter under my breath, bouncing my pencil against my knee. “I’m done studying for today.”

I slam my book shut and grumble. History is bad enough when it’s just boring, but when it’s boring and inaccurate it’s insufferable. Everyone gets it wrong, but they all think they have it right. I guess history truly is written by the victors. I know I sound bitter, but you would be too if you had to read a textbook about how your entire family was murdered by a psychopath.

I go to my dresser and pull open the bottom drawer, pushing aside some sweats and shorts to reveal a false bottom. I push on it slightly and lift it up just enough so I can grab what’s inside. I pull out a modified gas mask, painted and thinned out slightly, a deep black cloak and a cheap cell phone. The phone is a burner that I should probably get around to replacing soon, while the mask and cloak are just so I can conceal my identity without having to transcend sooner than I absolutely must.

I shove the mask and cloak into my backpack and put my password into the phone, opening the texting app and clicking on the group chat at the very top of the app. I quickly type a message and pace around my tiny dorm room waiting anxiously for a notification. Finally, a reply comes.

  Me: Need to blow off steam. Anyone up for sparring?

  Chimera: I would love to, but I have homework. Sorry, Phe…

  Me: No worries.

I sigh and angrily toss my phone onto my bed. I need to get out of this dorm in the worst way, and I don’t want to have to go looking for a petty criminal just to clear my head. I feel my rage swelling within me, begging me, ordering me even, to transcend. To transform from the simple, quiet Rachel into the powerful and confident Phoenix. To burn the book and the person who wrote it to the ground. I try to push these thoughts to the back of my mind, I take one breath, then another, then a third, feeling the anger subside just slightly. I glance out the window at my school’s courtyard. I swear, sometimes Archduke Valentin’s Boarding School seems more like a prison, but it’s allegedly the best school money can buy.

I look out at the courtyard, standing still and empty, a few lights from lampposts in the courtyard provide the faint light in the winter evening. There’s no snow, if there were things might actually look cheery. Everything feels cold and still, everything feels dead. The city has no life or substance, the city feels abandoned on nights like this. People certainly aren’t my favorite thing, but a dead, empty city isn’t better.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, shrugging. I’m about as plain and unassuming as possible, nobody would ever guess that I’m a superhero when I’m not at school, and if they did, I’m pretty sure Phoenix would be the last person they assumed I was. I look at my face, I have relatively average features, a small slightly upturned nose with chapped lips and dull brown eyes beneath small glasses. My cheeks are fairly pale and my whole face tends to lack color, I’m light skinned so that isn’t a huge surprise, but I lack the rosy cheeks or colorful eyes that some people have. I look at my hair, long, straight, and dirty blonde, it sits at the middle of my back. I don’t usually like to put my hair up and today is no exception. I’ve been lucky enough to have fairly low-maintenance hair, which is one of the few blessings I try to be thankful for. I look down at my clothes, a plain black tee shirt, and blue jeans. I’m just thankful that it’s still the weekend and I don’t have to put on that awful uniform until tomorrow.

I’m pulled out of my self-analysis by another notification from my burner phone.

  Dragon: sure

  Dragon: in 20

  Dragon: where

  Me: Roof of the old bank?

  Dragon: cool

I roll my eyes slightly at Dragon’s texts. I struggle to understand how someone as intelligent as her, whose power is literally fueled by her own intelligence, texts in the jumbled, punctuation-free way she does. She’s mentioned a few times that it saves her a few seconds and she’s usually distracted with her work when she’s texting, but it just seems unusual to me. I brush it off and breath a sigh of relief, grabbing my bag, leaving the room and eventually, the school.

I walk a few blocks until I hit a park that’s fairly dense with trees. I double check to make sure I’m not being followed and that nobody happens to be idly watching me and am relieved to be totally alone. I duck behind a tree and quickly pull my glasses off, put them in their case and tuck them in my bag. I don’t have to take them off to wear my mask, but it’s certainly more comfortable. I only really need the glasses to read anyway, my vision is a little worse without them, but I can manage walking a few blocks. I pull the mask on and secure the strap around my head, making sure I can see somewhat clearly out of the paint-stained lenses. Once I’m at least somewhat satisfied with my mediocre and obscured vision. I pull the cloak out of my backpack and pull it over my shoulders, struggling a little to get it over the hose of the mask. I pull the hood up, double and triple checking that all my hair is covered by the black hood. I sling the backpack back over my shoulders and continue my walk towards the old bank. It would be much easier to just transcend and fly there, but not only would it waste energy for sparring, it would also probably cause a scene that I really don’t need right now.

I climb around the back of the old bank, a relic of about four years ago, just like the rest of the old town. This was where the remain great superheroes made a last stand against Archduke Valentin and his forces. Every single hero involved in that fight was killed and this ruined bank stands as a monument to their failure. The bank was an unusual place to fight, but it’s where the heroes got pushed to and cornered. Patriot, the last to fall, managed to kill three villains by himself before he was finally killed. They were all burned in corpse piles by Valentin’s regime, their names have been all but scrubbed from the history books.

I find the old rickety fire escape as best I can with my impaired vision and pull it down to me. I climb up to the top of the bank in a few seconds. I’m surprised this fire escape hasn’t totally broken based on how rickety it is, but for some reason, it’s hanging in there. There’s probably a metaphor for what I’m doing in there somewhere, but fuck that.

I stand on the top of the bank and wait for Dragon, she usually tends to be a few minutes late. If she doesn’t have her head in a book, she’s stumbled onto some old website that hasn’t be taken down or she’s working on some new machine or pill. The girl’s a genius, even without her powers upping her intelligence, but she does have a tendency to get lost in her projects.

As I’m waiting, I notice white flakes landing on the lenses of my mask, I jump back and raise my fists, ready to transcend. It takes me a few seconds until I register that it’s just snow and I finally let my guard down. I let out a staggered breath and hold out my hand as I let the snow fall onto it. It’s light, the first snow of winter, but all it does is add to the eerie haunted mood that resonates through this city. My thoughts are broken by a voice from behind me.

“You sure know how to pick places to hang out Phoenix.” I hear Dragon say, I jump back and tense up for a moment, but Dragon’s voice is distinct and easy to ground myself on.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me you know. That’s a really good way to get burned.” I reply, only half meaning it.

“Oh please, like you could even start to melt through my scales.”

“So you do jokes now?”

“Why not? This place is thoroughly fucking creepy, so I might as well try to lighten the mood.”

“Welcome to Old Town, it’s not exactly pretty.”

“Fuck. I can’t believe they just left all this standing.”

“They want a reminder of what happens to rebels. I know a thing or two about that.” I touch my side gingerly, Dragon nods grimly at me.

“It still hurts?”

“Occasionally, not often and not nearly as bad as the first year.”

“That’s not good, could be nerve damage.”

“Of course it could, that’s all I fucking need.”

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about something else?”

“We’re here to fight, let’s fucking fight.”

I turn my whole body to Dragon, getting a good look at her. She’s dressed in a white mask, a mix of rubber and metal that covers her face completely. She wears a light blue, nearly white cloak, similar in style to my black cloak.

“You sure you want to do this now? Wanna take a second to cool off first?”

“Nope. This is the only way I know how to do it.”

I channel the rage I feel, all the anger and hatred I have for Heatstroke for burning me so badly, for killing my family, for ruining my entire life. All the anger and hatred I have for the heroes who failed, and the villains who saw fit to end their lives for standing up for what they believed in. All the anger I have at this world that I can’t fight back against as Rachel. I feel the anger burn up in my chest and boil over, sending a burning sensation all through my body. I see flames appear from seemingly nowhere and wash over my arms, replacing the soft fabric of my cloak and tee shirt with hard black leather armor with a red accent and covering my bare hands with matching gloves a black emblem covered in red flame appears on the back of my gloves. The same changes occur for my chest, an emblem appearing on my leather chest piece. I feel the leather armor pushing up to protect my neck, covering it completely. I watch as my jeans are transformed into black leather pants with the same red accents and the same emblem on my belt. My boots transform into soft shoes, almost similar to that of a jester. They’re soft and flexible, incredibly easy to move and run in, I feel as if all of the skin beneath my armor is turning to pure flame, just wildfire contained in a human shape. I feel fire reforming my muscles, giving them a supernatural strength and agility, and giving them a muscle memory it would take years or decades to master. I feel my mask becoming a solid black face mask with a grey bar of metal along my eyes. The lenses of my mask disappear, and my eyes along with them, leaving empty black sockets visible through the metal of the mask. I’m blinded for half a second before two balls of fire replace my eyes, I can see through them with flawless vision, far better than my usual vision, even with glasses. I feel the straps of the mask solidify themselves and become nearly unbreakable. The final part of the transformation is my hair, the cloak burns off of my head in one fluid motion as my long, straight, dirty blond hair turns into bright red, curly hair made of pure fire. My curls fall effortlessly, slightly shorter and just to my shoulders. They don’t burn me, but they’d burn anyone who got remotely close to my hair. I stand still and take a few big breaths, feeling the power of The Cinder course through me.

I glance over at Dragon, watching as she starts to transcend. White scales, a mix of ice and chitin, begin to cover her arms, once they reach her hands they grow quickly and become sharp claws. The chitin continues to cover her chest and travel down her legs, turning her feet into similar claws to those on her hands. A large tail bursts forth from the base of her spine as two large wings start to grow from her back, growing to a full, impressive wingspan in a matter of seconds. The scales keep growing up her neck and within a few moments her mask is gone, replaced by a full draconic muzzle and snout, an impressive row of teeth clearly visible, even at a distance. Her eyes shift back and place themselves on the side of her face. Her cloak finally fades as the scales completely cover her and her hair disappears. As a human, she is a few inches shorter than my 5’7 frame, but now she’s well over eight feet tall. She nods at me and smirks, as well as she can as an icy reptile anyway.

“Alright, let’s do it then.” She bellows, her voice is slightly deeper and carries a guttural resonance.

“Gladly.” I say, assuming a fighting stance.

I charge forward at Dragon, taking a few steps before calling on my increased strength and agility to jump high into the air, using a jet of flame to propel myself higher. Dragon’s ready for me and flies up to intercept me, I let her get close enough to just barely touch me with her claws before I send a circle of flame out from my mid-section, blowing her back and giving me some space as I land back on the roof. Dragon recovers quickly and swoops down for me and I’m barely able to dodge out of the way. I generate my own wings of flame just under my arms and use them to soar after her. She goes higher, going into the clouds. I know that the higher I follow, the more of a disadvantage I’m at, but I need to keep the offensive pressure on her. I let out a few torrents of flame, firing blindly into the clouds.

I feel strong claws grab me from behind, forcing me down towards the ground with them. Dragon pushes me down to the roof and holds me there, pinning me.

“Too aggressive,” Dragon says. “In the air, I have the advantage. Force me down. Don’t let me dictate the terms of the fight. You’re the aggressor, you need to have the upper hand, otherwise, you’re just being reckless.”

I struggle against her, but without being able to move my hands it’s hard to get any fire going. I always have a way out of situations like this though. I take a deep breath and call on my ability to enter The Cinder State. I feel my body fade away, slipping from Dragon’s grasp. My body becomes little more than a hot wind as I disappear completely. I can’t feel anything, but I’m generally aware of where I am as I position myself behind Dragon. I would normally take a second or two to charge more flame against an opponent, but Dragon knows what my power can do, and I have to catch her before she’s ready.

I drop out of my cinder state and land on Dragon’s back, letting a blast of fire loose onto the top of her head. I pull back and unleash another torrent of flame, feeling the anger build inside me. I am so fucking tired of being held down, I am so fucking tired of being ruled by the people who killed my family, I am so fucking tired of knowing I’m going to die for nothing, I am so fuckin-

“Phoenix!” I hear Dragon call out and pull me from my anger fueled state. “I said I give up, three times.”

I look down at Dragon, she has scorch marks covering her head and back. She’s cowering behind a shield of ice and shaking out of pain, fear or anger, maybe a combination of the three. I get off Dragon’s back and take three deep breaths, feeling my anger burn off and dissipate.

“You lost control.” Dragon says.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” I say, looking away.

��You could have really hurt me.”

“I know. It won’t happen again.”

“You need to keep your anger under control. What if you end up hurting someone or even killing them? Someone who doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

“That won’t happen. My power is fueled by anger, sometimes it can be hard to control, but I’m stronger than it. I control my anger, it doesn’t control me.”

“Usually I believe you, but you seem different today. Angrier, more aggressive.”

“It’s been a rough fucking week. I’m sorry.”

I take a seat on the rooftop and look over the ruins of Old Town. I sigh and let out a deep breath before de-transcending, sending my powers away and turning back into mundane, human Rachel. I check to ensure that my hood and mask are still secure and then look back at Dragon.

“I should have been better. I need to control my anger. I knew I was mad tonight and I shouldn’t have asked you here. I should know I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry.” I say.

Dragon de-transcends herself and walks towards me, taking a seat next to me on the roof. She is silent for a moment before looking at me.

“I’m your friend you know. At least I try to be as much as I can. I don’t know who you are behind the mask, and I can respect that you don’t want me to, but I’d like to think we’re still friends. I can help you, I can be there for you. Just open up to me, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

I sigh and take a second to think, can I tell her what’s really bothering me? She knows I’m a Flamewake and that my entire family was killed, but if I tell her we’re about to study that in history, I’m going to show my hand and tell her exactly what year I’m in. Can I afford to have Dragon know that?

“It’s just, this sucks, you know? The world I grew up in so different from the one I live in now. When I was a kid everything seemed full of hope and life. Now everything just seems still and dead. I know, we lost and the Archduke gets his way, but it just sucks. Someone born just now, they have no idea what our world used to look like, but we had to watch our world fall apart and we couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.” I say, looking out across the old and dead horizon.

“I know. I’m sorry Phoenix. I didn’t have powers when the Archduke took over. My parents and I were separated a few years ago, they got on a train and… I never saw them again. The next thing I know, I’m being told that I have to attend a boarding school in Oru. I felt powerless and helpless, I wanted to fight, but it would still be almost a year until I was touched by Ienath and became Dragon. I can’t imagine what it was like having powers when the Archduke took over.”

“After the fight with Heatstroke, I was laid out pretty bad. I was taken in by a family friend to recover and by the time I felt well enough to fight again, we had already lost. I gave up the hero thing for a while, but I couldn’t just do nothing. I’m not going down without a fight.”

“Neither am I.”

There’s an awkward pause for just a moment as the snow falls onto our masks and hoods. I take a deep breath and drum my fingers on the edge of the roof.

“And… I’ve been forced to relive what happened to my family, again and again, almost every year at school.” I say, letting the words hang there for a minute.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it? What really happened, not the version our history books tell us.” She asks.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“As long as you want to tell it.”

“Okay, then settle in. I’ll tell you the whole thing.”

—

I cross my legs and close my eyes, trying to center myself. True rage never dissipates, especially not from a Flamewake, but if I’m going to stay in control while recounting this, I need to hold my anger back. I take three deep breaths and focus on the rage in my heart, calming it, spreading it through my limbs and into the ground. I take another deep breath and open my eyes, looking over at Dragon.

“I assume you know about Heatstroke. How he went to fight the Archduke with Nova, my mom. Nobody is totally sure what happened there, but all we know is that my mom died and Heatstroke came out of there changed and evil.” I start, quelling the building anger inside of me.

“Of course. It’s framed a little different now, but I remember the news reports.” She says.

“Well, Heatstroke went on the warpath, hurting and killing other heroes, stealing weapons, even executing civilians. My grandfather, Wildfire, could no longer ignore what he was doing and with the help of my cousin Bonfire and my uncle Fuego, who both had abilities that could track him, our whole family cornered him in a warehouse hideout. All forty-two living members of my family went to bring him to justice. I was the youngest, at twelve.”

“They let you come?”

“Yes. He killed my mom, they weren’t stopping me. My older brother, Blaze, he tried to talk me out of it, but I needed to be there. Anyway, we showed up at this warehouse and maybe twenty people came charging out of the building with guns and tire irons. They didn’t even get close before my family put them down. Nobody even got scratched. Bonfire, who could see heat signatures, was able to identify where he was in the building and we all headed there. Blaze tried to talk me into going home, but I didn’t listen.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, but, your cousin could see heat signatures? Just her? Don’t you all have the same powers?”

“No. Our benefactor is the same, The Cinder. They’re the spirit of fire and rage. But our powers are slightly different. Every member of my family is touched by The Cinder, either by birth or marriage. We all have the power to create and control fire, however, we all have a special unique power. My power is the ability to go into my ‘Cinder State’, where I can’t touch or be touched by anything and I can move unimpeded. Heatstroke has the ability to teleport through fire. Bonfire was born blind, when she transcended she could see via heat signatures. The Cinder saw fit to give her sight.”

“I see. Sorry, I just knew that both you and Heatstroke can both basically teleport, so I made an assumption.”

“I understand. Anyway, we followed Bonfire and she lead us right to him. He was waiting for us, on a fucking throne made out of pumice stone. My grandfather fought him for a while and the rest of us started acting on our plan. Those of us who were better at creating powerful fire, like me, started making it as fast as we could. Those of us who were better at controlling fire, like my brother, started calling all the fire to a central point, forming a massive fireball. My grandfather called the fire forth and covered Heatstroke in it. We had the idea that if we hit him hard enough, fast enough, he couldn’t teleport away. We were wrong. He was able to teleport as soon as the flame made contact. For a second, we thought we had won, but then the fireball started to turn black. Then my brother grabbed me and used his special power, an unbreakable shield of fire, to protect us just before it exploded. Almost half of my family was instantly turned to ash by the blast.”

I hesitate for a second, feeling the anger build in me again. Begging me to transcend and hunt him down, to get revenge for what he did. I let out a deep breath and try to regain my composure.

“The rest of them burned to death. Nobody even survived the blast except for my brother and I. He tried talking to us, Heatstroke, he told said he was ‘glad it was just us now.’ Zi-uh-Blaze tried to fight him. Heatstroke burned him half to death with a wave of his hand and turned his head to ash right in front of me. I tried to fight back, I told him to go fuck himself and used my power to get behind him and try to take him out, but he was ready and channeled my flame through himself and harmlessly into the ground. He hit me once, and I was down. He just had to slap me and I was down. He told me that ‘they’ wanted me alive, wanted one Flamewake to serve as a reminder. Then he… He grabbed my sides and held me in place while he called ash and flame to his hands and… well. He left me with a permanent reminder. He left me with these fucking burn scars running down the length of both my sides. Then he made me watch as he burned the corpses of my family to nothing but ash. Said he was doing me a favor. ‘If the medics and police could identify even one body, they’d figure out your civilian identity.’ to quote him exactly. Then he was gone, I was alone. The last Flamewake, laying on the ground and sobbing in pain. It took less than ten minutes for him to kill my entire family. I’m going to get my revenge.”

“I know.” Dragon says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to help you. He’s going to pay.”

“He better.”

“Phoenix, do you ever worry you’re too close to this? That… that you are letting your desire for revenge get in the way of the mission?”

“Fuck no. I wasn’t gonna stay home then, and I sure as hell am not going to now. Besides, you and Chimera wouldn’t stand a chance without me.”

“We can get help, we’ll talk to Kitsune. if you could give her any secrets on your father she coul-”

“He is not my father!” I scream in her masked face. I stand up, letting out a deep breath and storming towards the fire escape.

“I’m sorry… Phoenix, I…” she says, looking at me sheepishly.

“He’s not my father. My father died with my mother the day they fought the Archduke. When he joined the Archduke’s regime, he stopped being my father. Is that clear?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s okay. I just want to get this over with as soon as possible. I know I may be a little reckless, but I’m also one of the strongest ‘heroes’ still willing to fight. When we face Heatstroke, you’ll need me.”

“I know. The day we face him is coming. I’m this close to locating his base of operations. As soon as we do, this is over.”

“It’s never over.” I mutter.

We don’t say much for the rest of the night, we just watch the snow fall for a bit before silently going our separate ways. We don’t need to speak, the inevitably of our fate is something we both accepted a long time ago. That’s why we just focus on the next mission until we fail one. After that, well, after that there are no more missions.

We aren’t going to succeed, we both know it, but we aren’t going to go down quietly.

A/N: This chapter was originally posted on my website: https://darkhearts.art.blog/2018/09/11/session-1-chapter-1-phoenix/ If there is interest here, I’ll be transfering more of the story to my tumblr. Thanks so much for reading, if you liked it, leave a note or ask a question and let me know. That means a lot.