#i am tired. i am in pain. i am afraid. and i am doused again in hindsight’s regret

[oldestenemy]

…banging my head against the wall

[achirding]

King’s Champion Snippet: Lancelot and Guinevere

“Lancelot?!“ A voice calls out loudly and desperately from the far side of the courtyard, like the speaker can’t believe their eyes.

It seems everyone turns in unison to see Guinevere run across the courtyard. Her dress isn’t really designed for running, but she doesn’t seem to care that the fabric is tangling on her legs. Shadow would think flying would be faster and more practical, but the bat doesn’t slow down except for when she stumbles on a loose stone.

Lancelot moves in the blink of an eye, catching Guinevere by the arms and steadying her. He lifts the queen up gently, still holding onto her as if afraid she’ll fall again, quickly glancing down as if to make sure she wasn’t injured, “Are you alright-?”

“Lancelot!”

Guinevere throws herself into his arms before he can finish his sentence. Her arms are tight around Lancelot’s chest and her face is buried in the crook of his neck, even though his armor must be uncomfortably hard and cold.

Shadow doesn’t really understand how the court operates and doesn’t care to learn- but even he can tell something changed. It’s like a cold chill settled over the group the minute the Queen hugged Lancelot. Shadow isn’t sure why this is such a big deal, but it is. (Gawain hugged his friend to no fanfare, why can’t the queen?) 

“You fool, why did you wait so long to return?”

Lancelot freezes like he was doused in ice water, eyes widening in stunned surprise. It’s a strangely open expression that looks out of place on a face that looks so much like Shadow’s own.

“I thought you were lost to me!“

Lancelot, who had still been holding onto Guinevere’s arms to steady her, let’s go quickly as if he was burned. His arms fall to his sides heavily, fists clenched tightly, allowing the hug but not reciprocating it.

“...My Queen,“ Lancelot sighs softly, a whisper of a word that holds a hundred different meanings all at once. It almost looks like the black hedgehog is in pain as he lightly presses his cheek to the side of Guinevere’s head, breath ghosting on her ear. It’s a very subtle gesture, but Shadow is starting to get the impression that there’s another layer to their relationship than simply Queen and Champion.

Shadow glances at Arthur to ask about, but the blue hedgehog looks... tired. Not jealous, or at least not jealous in the traditional way, more like he’s bracing himself for something unpleasant or awkward.

Lancelot’s voice has a strained quality to it when he finally speaks again, “My lady...”

He tries to pull away, but it’s a very weak attempt that doesn’t accomplish anything, “Please. I am not worthy of... such concern.”

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

��Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story! - pt 15 - Vampire Romance

The story continues!

Masterpost linked here

Enjoy!

________________________

“Class we have two new transfers today” The teacher announced cheerfully, ignoring the excited murmurs around the class. “This is Belaire and Alexander, they are a brother and sister who have recently moved to the area, please make them feel welcome!”  She turned towards us. “Would you like to tell us a little about yourselves?”

I stood up at the front of the classroom, feeling tired.

I hate high school so much.

I glanced over at Alex, like me he had camouflaged his red eyes with illusion magic, looking like a fairly normal seventeen year old male.  He looked over the students, his gaze stopping at the front row near the window, breaking out into a wide smile.

“Hello! I’m Alexander. I’m seventeen years old, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you all much better.” His eyes never left the object of their focus while he spoke, the intensity uncomfortable. I followed the trajectory of his gaze, and let out a sigh.

I guess I underestimated the pull of the heroine. I thought uncomfortably to the scene in his bedroom yesterday. He had woken up this morning perfectly normal, but continued to insist that he would go undercover at the school as well. Any time I tried to object he had grown angry, finally snarling at me to mind my own business. Throwing my hands up in the air, I had given up temporarily.

It’s like the reasonable brother I’ve known these past few days was just an illusion.

Everyone had turned towards me, waiting for my introduction. I sighed loudly. “She told you my name already. I’m… eighteen… I guess? I’m here to focus on learning so please keep your distance.”

There were a few disgruntled murmurs at my impolite words, but I ignored them. I wasn’t here to make friends.

The teacher’s smile stiffened in place. “Very… interesting. As for where to sit…” She scanned the room. There appeared to be two open seats, one in the back near the door and the other…

“I guess we’ll be neighbors.” Alexander grinned at Chelsea and stepped towards the empty seat next to her.

Only to fall flat on his face as I tripped him.

“Sorry, brother dearest, I’m a bit short sighted and need to sit near the front.” I stepped on his back, ignoring his grunt of pain and lightly sat down at the desk next to Chelsea. I glanced back at him, noting his gloomy expression and waved cheerfully.

“You…” His voice was a growl, only audible with my better than human hearing, but I interrupted him loudly, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks for being so understanding.”

Alex glared at me, and I smiled brightly back. I might not have been able to stop him from following the plot so far, but I’m not about to let him flirt with a confused adolescent right in front of me.

After a long moment, he stood back to his feet and headed towards the empty seat in the back.

“Wasn’t that a little mean?” Chelsea whispered to me, her eyes following his back a strange light in them. Strangely enough, she wasn’t overly concerned about him. If anything she looked… embarrassed. Compared to her tears and tantrums the last time I saw her, she seemed much more reasonable today.

Maybe she’s just not a night person?

“It was very kind, actually, once you take a longer view.” After all, he had committed double suicide after an unhealthy relationship with her in the original.

She seemed unconvinced. “Then why do you seem so… happy... when you watched him fall on his face?”

Oops, my inner villainess must have been leaking out a bit at that time. It was pretty fun to watch the hero fall though.

“It’s a vampire thing.” I answered finally. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She nodded innocently, not questioning further. I watched as she turned her attention to the teacher, taking notes diligently in a bright pink notebook.

You know, she’s a bit of a brat, but she seems fairly normal today... there may be hope for her yet. With Alexander’s recent changes, I might have more luck approaching the problem from her side instead.

My mind made up, I then looked back at the blackboard, wincing at the calculations written there.

Calculus, my mortal enemy… we meet again.

________________________

After class I grabbed Chelsea’s hand, pulling her into the hallway. I could feel Alex’s angry glare on my back, but didn’t turn back to give him attention. Before we could get too far however, we were stopped by two teenage boys.

“You’re the new girl, right?” The boy flipped his overly long blond curls out of his eyes, leaning on the wall to block our path.

I stopped with a sigh. “So they tell me.”

The other boy chuckled at my words, leaning closer. “You don’t look half bad. How about you skip the next period and come out and play with us?”

Chelsea, looking nervous, hid behind my back at their words. “These two are trouble.” She whispered in my ear. “Their fathers are on the school board, so the headmaster turns a blind eye when they bully others.”

“I see…”

She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes. “If you run away now, I’ll try to distract them.”

Did she forget I’m a centuries old vampire? I couldn’t help but grin. Although this habit of saving people is what keeps getting her in trouble, I can’t help but find it a bit cute. Definitely need to protect the young from my brother.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” The blond one snapped, growing impatient. “Don’t pretend like you’re not interested.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you come with us, we’ll show you a great time.”

“Well although that sounds about as appealing as dousing myself in gasoline and running through a burning building, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to pass.”  I crossed my arms and grinned. “If you don’t like it, feel free to start a fight. It’s been a while since I got to beat up idiots, I’m starting to get a bit itchy.”

“…” Both of them stared in shocked silence for a few moments, until it was interrupted by Chelsea’s laughter. Turning red at the sound, the closest boy raised a fist, preparing to strike me.

“You…”

BAM!

He went flying backwards at a high speed, hitting the lockers behind him with a loud crash, denting the metal in. His buddy fell to the ground with a frightened squeal, staring up at the assailant with horror.

“Sorry.” Liam grinned, not looking very sorry. “Didn’t see you there.”

“W-who are you?” The terrified boy asked.

“I’m the new gym teacher.” Liam cracked his knuckles, staring down at him with a frightening smile. “Looks like you two boys have got some extra energy, trying to pick up my wife… I mean pick up this random high school student that I don’t know at all.”

“What?” The confused boy had no time to protest before he was lifted up by his collar. Liam dragged him behind him, picking up the other that had been thrown into the lockers as well. “Time for some special hell punishment… cough… I mean personalized training.”

“Do you know who my father is?!”

“I’m shaking with fear.” With a cheerful wave back towards me, Liam dragged the two boys away, leaving us to stare after him in silence.

“That’s… your husband?” She asked timidly.

“Yep.”

“He’s human, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Is he always so….”

“Yep.”

She grinned. “That’s so sweet. I want to have a romance like yours one day.”

Hmm. 

I pulled her into an empty classroom, staring at her for a few moments. After a short uncomfortable silence, she turned red.

“What is it?”

“Why are you so different today?” I asked quietly. “When you came by that night, you were a lot more… excitable.”

She winced at my words, shaking her head slowly. “I …” She trailed off, obviously unsure of what to say.

“You acted like I was your mortal enemy. Now you’re so friendly, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”

Chelsea stared at me for a few silent moments, and then rubbed her face with her hand. “I don’t know if I can explain this, it seems too strange.”

So says the heroine of a failed novel to a world traveling amnesiac.

I suppressed a smile. “Try me.”

“A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, and something had… changed.” She sighed softly. “I felt panicked, lost. It was as if the world had shifted somehow, and left me without a place.”

“Shifted…” A few days ago… that would have been around the time I woke up in this world.

“I know this sounds crazy. I had already met Alex before this, and thought he was handsome and cool but that was it. He wasn’t that important to me right then.  But after that… shift… I started obsessing over him. Wondering where he was, worrying that he wasn’t thinking about me. I received that letter, and it seemed to confirm my worst fears.” She stood up, pacing around the room uncomfortably. “I was frantic by the time I showed up in front of you. I was convinced that you were trying to separate us, that you hated me because I was human… I wasn’t willing to listen.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description of how you were… so what changed?”

She looked embarrassed. “Last night, it shifted back. It didn’t make sense. I felt a sharp pain, so severe that I thought I was dying. But once it passed, I felt… relieved. The world was right, I was no longer lost. It was like my place in the world was secure once more. When I saw you and Alexander this morning, it was horrifying to think of how I had behaved.”

“…” I couldn’t help but think of Alexander’s episode yesterday, which seemed strangely similar. When he was being reasonable, she felt lost and hysterical. Now that he’s obsessed with her again, she’s back to normal?

Something is wrong with this world.

“I know this doesn’t excuse how poorly I’ve acted.” Chelsea sat back down next to me, her eyes slightly wet with tears. “But I am sorry. I am grateful that you’ve gone to all this trouble to protect me. “

I patted her head. “It’s fine. We’ll help you out.”

“Thanks!”

“I do stand by what I said last time though: you shouldn’t be in a romantic relationship with Alex right now. You are a teenager and he is a centuries old being. Allow yourself the space and time to grow up, to enjoy your life without being pressured into life-altering decisions by an adult who is almost fifteen times your age.”

Chelsea paused at that, and then nodded slowly. “It makes sense when you say it today.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I just don’t know if I’ll still be rational about it later.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you whether you are rational or not.”

“…” Her eyes reddened at my words, and she threw herself forward, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you!”

“It’s fine… could you stop choking me?”

“You’re like the sister I’ve always wanted!”

“Sounds good… please let go.” How many times would I have suffocated in this world if I wasn’t already undead?

She finally released me, sniffing loudly. “So can I consider you a friend?”

I held up a finger. “On one condition:”

She nodded.

“Try to restrain the crying at everything.” If I’m going to be spending my time with the heroine, I’ll need all the crying-free time I can get.

She blinked rapidly, stopping the tears in her eyes from overflowing. “Deal!”

I let out a sigh of relief, shaking her hand firmly. “See, this is nice. I don’t get many nice calm moments like this…”

CRASH!

Four men broke through the window wearing bronze masks and brandishing weapons. “Kill the vampire scum and her minion!”

“… Curse my unlucky mouth! I really need to stop making vague foreshadowing statements!”  I pushed Chelsea towards the door. “Go get Liam.”

She nodded, but then halted at the door. “What about you?”

“I’m a vampire queen.” I grinned, showing my fangs. “You should be worried about them.”

She ran out, and I blocked the men from following her.

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Fool! We need to kill this monstrous hag first, then we’ll go after the brat that serves her.”

I paused at their words. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a hag?”

The leader of the four snarled at me. “Silence, foul demon!”

I grabbed a desk chair, snapping off a leg. “No, no no, don’t go changing your insults now. I already heard it, and I must say that I’m very offended right now!”

I let go of my disguise completely, allowing my eyes and hair to become a bright red once more.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I’m going to take out my frustration at your poor choice of words by beating it out of you.” I brandished my makeshift club.  “Try not to die, okay? I need to get confessions out of you later.”

“Don’t listen to her lies! We outnumber her!”

I laughed out loud, going full on villainess laugh with glee. Snapping my fingers, I spread my dark magic towards the doors and windows, sealing the exits, blackening all the lights.

The room plunged into complete darkness.

“You should have brought more men.”

With that, I leapt forward, club raised.

It was a one sided battle. Unable to see in the darkness, the humans flailed around, trying to corner me by the sounds in the room. To me, who could see perfectly, this provided a  source of amusement, including leading them into swinging at each other and injuring themselves. Eventually I tired of playing with them, and with four hard taps, knocked the men unconscious.  I dissipated my dark magic, just in time for the door to burst open and for Alexander and Liam to rush into the room.

“WIFE!” Liam ran towards me, somehow managing to step on all four assailants before reaching my side. He picked me up, squeezing me tightly in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“… You realize she’s standing calmly in a room with four unconscious assassins.” Alexander knelt next to one of the men. “I’m pretty sure she’s fine.”

“’Pretty sure’ is not good enough!” Liam held me up in the air, turning me around, looking concerned.

“Liam, I’m fine, you can put me down.”

“… Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I can hold you longer, there’s no need for you to be tired.”

“Remember what I said when I agreed to let you be a teacher in this school?”

“…” Liam set me down, hanging his head. “You said don’t be creepy.”

“That���s right, everyone thinks that I’m a teenager and you’re a student. You can’t act like you usually do.”

“But you’re older than me! And we’re newly married!” Liam scuffed his foot against the ground, managing to grind his shoe on the head of one of my attackers. “It’s not fair!”

“We’re in high school. What ever made you think that life here would be fair?”

Liam tilted his head, seeming confused. “Why do you hate high school so much? Did you even go to one? You were a teenager centuries ago.”

I’ve lived multiple lifetimes as the side character or villainess in the worst version of high school to ever exist: teen romance high schools. I shuddered at the memory, patting his shoulder. “Just trust me on this one.”

“Can we focus, please?” Alex interrupted our conversation with a rude tone. “The important thing is that someone put Chelsea in danger.”

“Actually she was relatively very safe, she left the room before any fighting…”

“She’s such a special person, of course these groups covet her.” Alex looked down at the unconscious men with a sneer. “I have to protect her. I’ll pull her out of school, she can stay with me for now...”

PSST!

I pulled my brother behavior modification tool out of my bag and sprayed his face multiple times.

“BAD VAMPIRE! No stalking or kidnapping teenage girls!”

He wiped his face, his eyes changing back to a bright red in his anger. “Can you cut that out?!”

“I will when you stop being a creep.”

“You’re such a bit…”

PSST!

To my surprise, Liam took out a bottle and sprayed Alex before I could react. Seeing my look of confusion, he smiled. “Selina gave me an extra, said I would need it if you were going to be around so many hormonal teenagers.”

“That reminds me, what happened to those two boys from earlier?”

Liam let out an ominous laugh. “Nothing permanent.”

“Don’t ignore me!” Alex shouted. “This is about keeping Chelsea safe!”

“Exactly.” I waved the bottle of garlic water in the air. “Which is why she’s not staying with you. I’ll protect her.”

“Belaire are you okay?!!” Before Alex could respond, a tearful voice called out from the doorway. I turned, just in time to see Chelsea throw herself at me, crying.

“I was so worried about you!”

“I told you I’d be fine.”

“But you were outnumbered!”

“They could have brought an army, and I still would win.” I patted her head. “Trust in your friend.”

“…okay.”

“Now didn’t you just promise me that you wouldn’t cry so much?”

She laughed stepping away and wiping her tears. “Sorry.”

“…”

“…”

Liam and Alexander stared at us in shock.

Alex recovered first. “Since when are you two so close?”

Chelsea’s smile faded a little as she turned towards him. “We’re friends now.”

“But she’s standing in the way of our relationship!”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Don’t lie!”

PSST!

Liam stepped between them, spraying Alex again, looking confused. “Is it just me or did we just have this conversation, but with the roles reversed?”

“I’ll explain it later, dear.” I knelt down next to the unconscious men. “Now help me tie them up.”

As we restrained the men, ignoring Alex’s furious sputters. Eventually, the leader of the group woke up first, his initial confusion fading into horror as he stared up at us.

“Don’t be scared.” I smiled at him. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions.”

Liam cracked his knuckles. “Unless you plan on disrespecting my wife. Then you should be terrified.”

Chelsea also tried to crack her knuckles, looking much less terrifying. “Yeah, what he said.”

“…” Everyone, including the assassin, stopped and stared at her.

I patted her head. “I appreciate the thought, but stick to your strengths.” Turning back towards the captive man, I continued. “Now, who sent you?”

He glared at me. “Vampire scum, my brothers will hunt you down and send your soul back to Hell!”

Liam frowned. “Vampire hunter? I don’t recognize him.”

“Not everyone was willing to work under a traitor like you. His eyes were wide and fanatic as his speech became pressured. “A new world is coming, one which has no place for monsters and human traitors! We will cleanse this world of its filth! The flames of judgment will consume you, and we will watch with joy as you suffer!”

I rolled my eyes. “What a pleasant gentleman.”

“He’s certainly… passionate?” Chelsea shrugged.

The man looked up at her. “Foolish girl. You sided with these monsters. You betrayed your kind, and will be the first to fall!”

I saw something flash by me, and shouted “WE NEED HIM ALIVE…!”

SLASH

The man’s throat was cut, his blood soaking the front of his clothing as his wide shocked gaze met my own. His body slumped to the floor. Alex stepped back, wiping the blood from his hands, seeming calm.

“I won’t let anyone who threatens her to live.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” I smiled, and then reared back and punched him.

As he hit the floor with a groan, I leaned over. “We needed him to talk, idiot. To protect Chelsea, I need to know who is behind these men. You are not this stupid, Alex. What’s wrong with you?”

“You don’t understand!”

I grabbed his collar, pulling his face close to my own. “You’re right, because I’m actually using my brain.”

“We have three other…” He paused looking over, as there were light groans from the other side of the room.

The three other men convulsed, white foam spilling from their lips.

“Poison.” I growled, dropping Alex and stepping away, frustrated. I searched the bodies. Beyond silver knives, there was nothing on their bodies. I turned the leaders head to the side, ignoring the large wound in his neck, and found a marking at the side.

A black rose.

A quick look confirmed that the other men had the same tattoo on their neck.

“Liam, do you recognize this?”

He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t.”

Liam contacted his group, bringing in men to dispose of the bodies. As they cleaned up the room, he pulled me to the side, a sulking expression on his face.

“I need to return to the headquarters and look into this. I’m worried they might have ties to the hunters.”

I reached out and touched his cheek, smiling. “I understand.”

“It’s not fair! We’re finally married!” He frowned, picking me up and hugging me. “…But bringing a vampire into the hunters headquarters doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“I’ll let Chelsea stay with me tonight and protect her. Don’t worry, and come home soon.”

He pulled me in, kissing me. “I’ll come back as fast as I can. Please be safe.”

“I will.” I squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I promise.”

________________________

It took very little effort to convince Chelsea to come stay with me that night. I was mildly worried about how quickly she trusted me.

But I guess that’s her problem in the story, right? She kept saving people with ties to the supernatural world and trusting everything they say.

Alex on the other hand, argued heatedly all the way to the castle once he heard she was planning to stay in my suite. As we entered the front hall, he grabbed my arm, snarling.

“This is ridiculous! I should be taking care of her!”

PSST!

Feeling bored, I sprayed him. “Maybe I need to put a more effective fluid in here? Like adding silver powder?”

He shook his head, garlic water dripping from his hair. “I don’t trust you to keep her safe!”

PSST!

Chelsea sprayed him this time. She held up the bottle, grinning. “Your husband gave this to me, saying it was useful!”

“That was the right thing to do.” I smiled back. “You keep that with you.”

“Miss… is this… person… staying here.” Selina arrived silently, a look of disapproval on her face.

“She’s going to be in my suite, Selina, please prepare her room.”

Chelsea turned to her, reaching out a hand. “I’m sorry for my actions the other day, Selina. I hope you can forgive me.”

Selina stared at her silently for a few moments. “Try to keep your hormones contained, teenager.”

“Umm… Sure, I promise.”

“… I haven’t teenaged-proofed the rooms. ” She let out a long sigh. “I’ll go prepare the bed… and place protective coverings on the furniture and carpets.”

Chelsea turned towards me, confused by the obvious hostility of my butler. I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Selina just doesn’t like teenagers.”

“That’s reasonable. I don’t like them either, and I am one.”

We laughed, heading up together.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m staying with you?” Chelsea seemed nervous. “I don’t want to cause you more trouble.” 

“It will be fine.” I grinned, “You’re in the center of my territory now. What could go wrong?”

“... Didn’t you say you were going to stop making vague foreshadowing statements?”

“...” I patted her head silently, having no words to reply. 

________________________

I got her settled into a secure room in the suite after dinner. There were no windows, with only a single entryway through the door. Wishing her goodnight, I set up a chair in front of her doorway, ready to guard through the night.

Fortunately I’m a vampire and don’t really need to sleep.

After a few hours, just past midnight, I heard footsteps leading up the nearby stairs. I jumped to my feet, taking a defensive posture. “Who’s there?”

Alex stumbled up the stairs, his face pale, a pained expression on his face. “Bel?”

“Alex, what is going…”

He collapsed to the ground in front of me, grabbing his head, as I head him whisper.

“Help me.”

[thisisawonderfulusername]

let's save the world

season one, episode four

five hargreeves x reader

summary: after the break in, five comes back with information, and you two go to check it out.

trigger warning: cursing, drinking, a fluffy moment 👉 👈

word count: 2.5k

a/n: damn, already part four O-O. i don’t really have much to say, so, enjoy!

after getting attacked by the commission assassins, you had gone up to five’s room and passed out on the bed, not even taking the time to clean or patch it up. you told yourself that it would be fine for the night, though there was a nagging voice in the back of your head, warning of the possible infection, but you inevitably pushed it away.

your morning wasn’t too great. you were shaken violently to be woken up, and you sat up quickly, hissing and grabbing onto your leg when you felt the pain the coursed through it. looking up at five, you glare at him. “what the fuck?”

“i take it you didn’t find any clues?” he questions, the smallest hint of a smirk on his face as you groan softly. of course he would do this. you knew it meant sitting in that van all day, he actually found something, and he was ready to rub it in.

leaning on your arm to reach for the med kit, you don’t meet his eyes. “no, i didn’t.” you mutter, opening the box and pulling out the supplies to finally patch up your leg. “i assume that you did?”

glancing at him as you doused a clean rag in rubbing alcohol, you raise an eyebrow. “yup.” he grins, and you roll your eyes, pulling your skirt up a bit to pull the make shift tourniquet off and reveal the wound from the glass that so rudely decided to cut through your flesh.

“how did that happen?” five questions, cringing slightly at the sight of the injury that you quickly placed the soaked rag over, biting your lip harshly to hold back the cries of pain from the stinging pain.

once the pain settled, you took a deep breath and looked to him. “long story. people, from the commission, i’m sure of it.” you threw the rag to the side, grabbing the needle and stitching thread, quickly putting it through and getting to suturing the puncture.

he watched as you stitched the wound, staying quiet for a moment, before he decided to speak again. “remember the guy we talked to? at meritech?” he asks, and you nod simply, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, “well, he’s definitely doing something sketchy. so we need to figure out what.”

you finish the stitches before throwing the needle to the side, looking back to him. “seriously? if this leads to another dead end, i’m going to kill you.” you grab some gauze and quickly wrap it around your leg, sighing softly as you toss everything back into the medical kit.

“i’ll deserve it if i am. but i’m sure of this.” he tells you, standing from the bed beside you and holding out his hand to help you up. it hurt a bit to stand on your leg from the pain, but you had endured worse, so you could suck it up.

-

waiting on the street, you leaned against a building, following five’s gaze and staring at one of the cars that lined the street. “how do you know he’s here?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i followed him, and when he went into the vet, i figured i had time to get you.” he responds, neither of you risking a glance away from the vehicle. “there he is.” he mutters as the man walks to his car, putting his dog in the backseat and getting in himself. five grabs your hand and the next moment you’re in the car, sitting by the dog.

smiling slightly as you give him a pat, your attention is brought back to the situation when the man turned and jumped at the sight of five right next to him. within a millisecond, a knife is held to his throat. “one chance.” he snaps at him, and you purse your lips, leaning forward in your seat. “you’ve got one chance to tell me what is going on in that lab.”

obviously terrified, since he was held at knife point, the man quickly speaks. “i manufacture prosthetics for fake patients.” his eyes are wide, staring straight into five’s, “i bill the insurance companies then sell them on the black market.”

resting an arm on the head rest of his seat, you lean towards him. “including eyeballs?” you press, and his gaze flickers towards you before back to five.

“yeah-” he stutters out, his head shaking slightly, “they’re my biggest seller. i’ve got a list- a wait list- probably twenty buyers!”

five nods, “so the serial number i told you?” he raises an eyebrow.

“yes, it- it could’ve already been bought.” he tells him, his breathing shaky.

as five stared into the guy’s eyes, you swore he could see into his soul, and though you had seen it multiple times, it still unsettled you. “i need that list, lance.” the knife pushes against his skin slightly, and he visibly flinches, “names and numbers, i need it now!”

“i don’t have it,” you can see his eye’s glossing, and you don’t blame him for being close to tears. “the only copy’s in my safe at the labs.” he quickly adds on, probably praying to himself that he wouldn’t die today.

smirking, you slap a hand on his arm, and he jumps at the sudden touch. “alright then, start the car, bud.” you lean back against the seats, petting the dog again. “we’re going on a trip.”

-

stopping the car just a street away from the building, all of you get out, you and five both holding onto lance’s arms to make sure he wouldn’t make a run for it. he could probably easily push you guys away, as you were practically thirteen years old, probably no muscle at all, but you assumed he was too afraid to even think about running.

as you rounded the corner, the building up ahead, your eyes widen. flames engulfed the lab, smoke pouring out of the windows. your heart practically stops. your only clue to go off of, was totally destroyed.

you could only stand in shock as lance slipped out of your grip after five ran forward, both of them looking up at the burning building. as five stood in front of the entrance, there was a sudden explosion, sending him flying back into the road.

that got you moving, quickly running to his side and crouching down next to him, ignoring the burn in your thigh. “holy shit, are you okay?” you question, slightly panicked, as it definitely wasn’t a simple fall to the ground. first of all, it was the middle of the road, concrete, and he had been knocked back pretty hard.

pushing himself up as he nods, five looks at the building. “there goes the only evidence we had.” he mutters, and you sigh softly.

standing up, you hold a hand out to him to help him up, which he gladly takes. “guess we better get to searching for another lead, then.” you glanced to the lab, pursing your lips at all the rubble that surrounded the entrance where it had exploded.

“i guess so.”

-

you sat on the floor of the library, the glass looking down at the lower floors behind your back. books surrounded the two of you, scattered around as you tried to search for any clues inside of them.

bottles of alcohol also surrounded you, which you guys weren’t holding back on. with your only piece of evidence gone, you were ready to give up and just let the world turn back to the rubble it had been when you first got stuck, as long as you didn’t have to be in it again. you didn’t know if you could handle that like you did the last time.

“you know, i thought we’d be able to figure this out faster.” five mumbles, breaking the silence between the two of you. his words were slightly slurred, from the alcohol. he sighs softly, flipping the page he had been reading to move on to the next.

taking a sip from the bottle you held, you lean your to the side to rest your head on his shoulder. “so did i.” your words are just as jumbled, maybe even worse. “but i guess the world is just... against us.” you close your eyes, feeling tired. you weren’t sure if it was from trying so hard and failing miserably, the alcohol, or actually being tired. you didn’t care.

five stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze still trapped on the book, until he glanced to you. “remember the first night? at griddy’s?” he questions softly, tracing the lip of the bottle with his finger as you nod. “you were saying something about how you felt when we were both separated in the apocalypse.”

you remembered that moment very clearly. even with a hazy mind. you had been preparing to tell him about the feelings you had had for him, before those guys crashed the party. you weren’t sure why you didn’t tell him after. probably slipped your mind after the big fight. “oh.” you sigh softly, eyes still closed as you thought, “yeah, i was just going to tell you that i used to like you. in more than a friend way.” you chuckle, sitting up and shaking your head.

“it’s so stupid.” you look at him, your head tilted to the side, “when we got stuck and i couldn’t find you, i felt like i lost the whole world- well, i guess i did, but not in the literal way.”

his eyebrow’s were furrowed at the information you gave him, probably processing it all. “you liked me?” he questions, a hint of confusion in his tone.

“well, yeah.” you take another drink from the bottle, frowning when there was only a tiny bit left. “i guess i stopped once i found out you went crazy and fell in love with a mannequin.” you laugh, motioning to the mannequin that he had brought along and sat between you two, looking up at the lights on the ceiling.

pursing his lips, five nods, humming in acknowledgment at what you said. “find anything that might help us?” he asks, and you groan, looking back to him.

“i don’t know if we ever will.” you felt like this whole mission was hopeless. you had been ready when the two of you first made it back, prepared to do whatever it took to keep the world safe, but now, all of that confidence and hope was gone. you were close to just giving up.

setting his now empty bottle down, five leans back against the glass. “maybe.” he mumbles softly, and another silence falls.

you don’t even realize when you fall asleep, slumped against his side.

-

when you wake up, it takes you a bit to feel the arms holding you up, your body bouncing slightly with each step they took. your eyes shot open, and you sigh in relief when you see that it’s just diego.

“it’s not secure.” you hear luther’s voice behind him, turning your head to see him walking behind with five in his arms. “those psychopaths could come back at any moment.”

“hey.” you mumble as your eyes fall closed again, and you groan as you feel your stomach churn. it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink that whole bottle, but your mind would clear up once it’s effect wore off a bit, and it would leave you with a killer headache. that was something to worry about later.

you hear five speak, but you can’t focus on his voice, only hearing fragments of what he says. something about puberty. and the end of the world. when he asks what they had been talking about, luther sighs. “two masked intruders attacked the academy last night.”

“they came looking for you!” diego says, the accusation clear.

sighing softly, you let your head hang, “hazel and cha-cha.” you inform him, words jumbled together, “assholes from the commission.”

“best of the best.” five adds on, chuckling, “other than us, of course.” you grin, nodding slightly.

both of the men seemed to be annoyed by your lack of genuine answers, but it’s what they get for thinking that questioning to drunks was a good idea. “the best of what?” luther urges, glaring at five.

“you know, delores always said she hates it when i drink.” five ignores the question, patting the plastic woman on the head as you groan loudly.

you grab onto diego’s arm slightly, “fucking delores. stop talking about her!” you pull yourself up a bit, looking at diego, “he’s in love with a fucking mannequin? can you believe it?” you grin, shaking your head and letting yourself fall back again.

“hey!” you jump as diego suddenly yelled, apparently down to his last straw of patience. “i need you guys to focus.” he stops in his tracks and turns so he could see five as well. “what do they want? this hazel and cha-cha.” his tone is firm, and you’re surprised he’s still expecting actual answers.

you see five’s amused grin and you laugh, but the two men don’t seem nearly as entertained. “we just want to protect you.” he adds on, tone a bit softer but still demanding.

five lets out a mocking laugh, and your grin is obvious. “protect us?” he derides, leaning forward in luther’s arms. “we don’t need your protection, diego. do you know how many people we’ve killed?”

“we’re the four fucking horsemen!” you laugh, throwing your arms up slightly, “the world is ending, and the apocalypse is coming. there’s nothing you can do to help.” you glare at him.

you hear five heave and throw up, and your nose scrunches up. “that’s fucking disgusting-” you can’t stop yourself from doing the same. both the men look at each other in irritation.

-

taglists

main: @horrorklaus​

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five: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official​ @insatiable-ivy​ @coffee-e-addict​

let's save the world @aspiringwriter1​ @thetrashypanda423​ @lilacs-lavender @academy-umbrella​

if you’d like to be added to any taglists, just ask!

[terms-of-surface]

Hold the Damn Child, Teacher

Here, have something I wrote a long time ago. A tender moment for Teacher to be mother hen.

One night, shortly after moving into the new cottage, while Teacher was passing the dark hours with his nose in a book, a stirring caught his attention. No doubt, the sound of whimpering was Shiva, but he didn’t pay much mind to it. She tended to whimper and whine in her sleep at times, but nothing further than a few noises disrupted her slumber. This time, however, she whimpered, and then whined, which then turned into a keening sound and then, just as Teacher turned around to see Shiva sit up in bed, she dissolved into a full blow wail.

Teacher was quick to step into action. He clapped his book shut, not bothering to save the page, and made his way over to kneel at the side of the bed. The little girl, still bleary from sleep, only sat staring forward and sobbed openly. The sound of her crying made Teacher’s blackened and dead heart constrict. It was rare for Shiva to cry. She never threw temper tantrums, she never stomped her feet until she got her way, and she cried rarely when she was hurt. Hearing her sobs was a clear sign that something was wrong, but the problem was, as it was with most children, getting her to explain why she was crying.

“Shiva?” Teacher soothed. “What’s the matter?”

Only then did Shiva seem to notice Teacher at her side. Her breath hitched for a second and she seemed to be reminded of what was making her upset once more, crying again, as she held her hands out, wanting to be picked up or held for comfort. Teacher frowned inwardly and grabbed a nearby blanket, covering his hands before holding Shiva by the arms and wiping her tear stained face.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, dear?”

The girl said nothing, but she seemed to grow more upset by the second. She threw herself back on the bed and kicked and howled, ripping at the blanket. Teacher didn’t realize until after a few seconds that she was trying to pull the blanket out of his hands.

“Shiva, wait—stop. I can’t hold you if I don’t have the blanket. You wanted time to hold you, is that right?”

By that point, receiving a coherent answer was out of the question. Shiva was deeply sobbing, chest heaving and ragged breathing made her entire body shake. Shrieking, howling cries ripped from her throat and made Teacher feel absolutely helpless—incapable of doing nothing but watch as the girl cried her little heart out.

“Shiva, breathe. You need to breathe.” This was true. She was crying so hard that at moments, nothing was going out of her mouth but her face still twisted and her mouth still gasped as if she were trying to let out a wail.

“I-I-I’m n-not go-going to h-h-hurt-t y-you!” She hiccuped in between heaving breaths. Teacher was taken aback for a moment, unsure of what she meant in her proclamation.

“Not going to hurt me? Shiva, what are you—“

“I-I pro—m-mise I won’t h-h-h-hurt you!” She shouted through tears. “I promise!”

“Shiva what are you talking about?”

What was so fascinatingly painful to watch about Shiva when she cried was how openly and unabashedly she was. Unlike adults who shamefully hid their faces in their hands or tried to hold back their tears, Shiva seemed to be leaning into her emotions. She cried wholeheartedly, as children always did. She didn’t cover her face or her mouth to hide her pitiful looks of sorrow. She didn’t care about the ugly noises that came from her throat. All she cared about was letting out her emotions and she did it without holding back. It was hard to watch, but Teacher gawked on as she wailed and howled and screamed.

“I w-won’t h-h-h-hurt you like Auntie! I d-d-didn’t m-mean to! I didn't mean to! I d-didn’t mean to, T-teacher, I p-promise! I w-won’t h-hurt you!”

Realization struck him just as he managed to pull the blanket out of Shiva’s tiny little hands. She gave up and tossed her head back with another long and miserable squall, and Teacher regretted his actions immediately. “Oh...honey…” he lamented. “Oh...Shiva...no…”

His heart was pounding because Teacher knew that if touched her, the consequences could me...devastating. He couldn’t bear to watch as the little girl slowly transformed into a hideous creature like himself, and worse yet, suffer a fate like her dear auntie. However, if he didn’t touch her—if he didn’t correct the miscommunication between them and prove to her that he wasn’t afraid to touch her for his own sake—then she would go on believing he was unwilling to touch her in fear of what it might do to himself. She would think of herself as a monster. She would think of herself as a curse.

And he just couldn’t bear to see her cry like that anymore.

“My poor Shiva.” Teacher cooed, and finally scooped the little girl in his arms. “Shiva, sweetheart, I am not afraid of you. I was afraid for you. There is nothing in this world you could do to hurt me, little one.”

She clung to him, arms wrapped tight around his neck and her face pressed deep into his shoulder. Undoubtedly, she was getting tears and snot and spit his shirt collar, but it was of no consequence. It felt so unbelievable easy to hold her in his arms, and she held onto him for dear life. Teacher pushed every worry about what this touch might do for her curse and savored the moment of being able to provide comfort to the crying little babe who was already starting to calm down in his arms. Though she was still sobbing loudly, he could hear her actively trying to cool herself down.

While she slowly calmed down, Teacher cooed comforting words into her ear and held her tightly, rubbing circles in her back and stroking her hair. He stood, gathering her legs with his forearm and walked back over to the desk where he doused the candle light he had been keeping aflame to read with, then returned to the bed where he sat down and leaned back. He pulled her onto his chest and she curled up like a cat, still crying, but reduced to only soft weeping. After a few more minutes, all that was left of her tears were the dried, salty stains of redness on her cheeks and a snotty nose which she sniffled every few seconds.

“Are you feeling better now?” Asked Teacher. He felt a nod in his neck and patted her back. He didn’t prompt her to move. He would allow her to stay there all night if she so chose.

A tiny little hand raised to the fur that coated his neck and began to bet the dark, inky black coat.

“You’re fuzzy...like a cat.”

He chuckled softly, the bounce of his chest causing her to shift. “Like a cat, you say?”

“Yes. And you have a tail like a cat.”

“Many creatures are fuzzy and have tails.”

“Mm.” Silence lingered for a few minutes. The sniffling was starting to go away. “Cats don’t have horns.”

“You’re right, they don’t.” Teacher mused and continued to rub his hand over her arm. Shiva pulled his sleeve and brought his hand in front of her, then ran her little fingers over each digit and smiled. She pressed her palm into his and noticed just how much his hand dwarfed her own in size.

“Shiva?”

“Mm?”

“You know I’m not afraid of you, right?”

“...I thought you were…”

Teacher shook his head and gave her a tight squeeze to his chest. “I have never once been afraid of you. What happened to auntie is not your fault. I don’t blame you. I’m not afraid of you. I was worried that if I touched you then the curse would worsen and you’d end up looking like me.”

Shiva giggled. “Like a cat with horns.”

And Teacher couldn’t help but laugh along. “Yes, I was terribly worried you’d end up looking like a silly cat with horns, like me.”

This seemed to pacify her uncertainty for the moment, and she sighed. “I’m tired.”

“I’m sure you are. Try to get some rest.”

“Right here?”

“Yes.” Teacher held her hand to his chest. “I’ll hold you until you know I’m not afraid anymore, alright?”

Shiva nodded.

And she went to sleep.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 71

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 70. Chapter 72.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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

I knock on Jolee’s door, and he invites us back in. “Have you done my task, I wonder?” he asks. Rhetorically.

“Katarns just chased them off,” I say.

“You spared them?” he says, “Interesting.”

“Yeah, I hate the corporation, not the people,” I shrug, “No sense in killing people who are just trying to pay their bills.”

“Isn’t there?” he asks, again rhetorically, “I suppose not, but the environment would say otherwise, if it could talk. No matter.”

“You mentioned eliminating barriers? Could we get to it?”

“Not tonight,” he says, “It’s late, and I’m an old man who needs his beauty rest.”

“Okay, then, maybe you could tell me how to do it?” I offer, “I can come back for you.”

“Impatient lass, aren't you?” he says, “You really want to wander around an unfamiliar forest at night?”

“The old man has a point,” Canderous says, “The Star Map will still be there in the morning.”

“But…”

“Relax, Rena,” he interrupts, “I’ve got more of those allergy stims, you’ll be fine.”

I’m still a bit reluctant, but I guess I’m outnumbered. “Okay,” I say, “We’ll stay the night.”

-------

“Come on, gorgeous, don’t tell me you can’t make this climb!” Carth goads.

“I’ve made rougher climbs than you, nerf-herder!” I tease back, “You could help me - grab the rope!”

He grabs the rope attached to the climbing piton. “Only because you’re the only one who knows where we’re going.” He pulls me up and over the side of the rock.

“And don’t you forget it,” I say.

I don’t recognize the planet off-hand, even with the view from the top of the rock. It’s a plains world, and trees dot the landscape. I can hear the rush of a waterfall not very far. But that could describe any number of planets, including Dantooine. Before Jedi training, I’d never been to Dantooine. So I take a look behind me, from where we came. A sandy beach, some seabirds. A doused fire on the beach below. It’s early in the morning. I can still see a moon in the sky. The planet still doesn’t ring a bell. But Carth says I know where I’m going, and I’ve got my lightsaber to back me up if I’m very wrong, so I trust my instincts and head away from the rising sun.

Gizka hop around the plains. They aren’t afraid of us. No natural predators, then. But they aren’t like the ones on the Hawk, either, they aren’t asking for pets or pestering me for food. I’m just another part of their habitat. Eventually the sand ends and beneath my feet is nothing but grass. I miss grass. Feeling it beneath my toes, weaving between them. I take a moment and sit down on a rock. “You can’t be tired already,” Carth says.

“Nah, thought you might be,” I say with a smirk, and I pull off my boots. “I’ve missed the grass under my feet.”

He smiles at me. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid,” he says.

“Live a little!” I encourage him, “Take your shoes off, I won’t judge.”

“Isn’t it cold?”

“A little,” I admit, “but a good kind of cold.” He still looks a little hesitant. “You know you want to,” I say in a sing-song voice.

He gives in. “If I get cuts on my feet, it’s on you,” he says teasingly.

“I’ll just Force-heal them, no big deal.”

He slides off one boot and the smell about knocks me over. “Good God!” I say with a little laugh, “How do your feet smell that bad already?”

“Oh, because yours smell like flowers,�� he says sarcastically.

“They smell better than that!”

He smiles and shoves the shoe in my face. I laugh and back up, but I fall right off the rock. He laughs loudly, and so do I. “Oh yeah?” And I Force-push him off the rock. He laughs even harder. He rolls around and stands up.

“You want to play dirty, is that it?” he says teasingly. He runs over to me and pulls me up. “Come on, fight me!” He pulls off his jacket and puts his hands up, ready to wrestle.

“If you really want to get your ass kicked!” I pull off the outer part of my robes and stand to face him.

“Bring it on, gorgeous!” We sort of dance around the plain for a little bit, having more fun than anything else, and then he lunges for me, and I Force-jump away. Carth falls face first into the grass. “No fair using the Force!” he complains.

“I thought we were playing dirty!”

“I didn’t mean actual dirt!” he laughs.

“Oh, well, if you’re afraid of a little mud, then --” He lunges at me again, pinning me to the ground, and I yelp in surprise. “Unhand me, you fool!” I say in a mock-grandiose voice, “I will never surrender!”

“Oh, yeah?” he says, and he starts tickling me.

“Ahh!” I scream between laughs, “That’s-that’s not funny! Stop it!”

“Surrender!”

“Never!”

I shove him off me and get up to run. “You can’t get away that easy!” he says, and he runs after me.

I feel like a kid - I haven’t had this much fun in ages. I jump on rocks with agile leaps, and Carth just runs around them. Eventually he gets tired and leans over, hands on his knees, panting. “Okay, gorgeous,” he pants, “You win.”

We catch our breath, drink some water, put our boots back on before we start walking again. “The others are waiting for us,” he says.

More cliffs rise up around us as we go. I see sand again, we must be near another shore. Are we on an island? Must be. The terrain slopes slowly downward, and we come to a small clearing surrounded by cliffs. There’s wreckage of an escape pod, smashed into a tree. Gizkas have made a home in it, nesting in palm fronds. But there aren’t any there now.

I feel…

...something…

“Rena, look out!” Carth shouts.He runs close and grabs me, pulling me to the ground, finally resting over me before I have any idea what’s going on.

What I’d felt was incoming wreckage from a ship. And if Carth hadn’t leapt me out of the way, I’d be dead. I can’t see anything - what the hell’s going on? All this smoke! “Carth!” I call out, “Carth!”

I hear him cough. “I’m here!” he calls back, “The impact must have knocked me away.” he stumbles through the smoke closer to me. Takes a quick look -- “It landed on your legs, can you move?”

I try to pull myself out - I cry out in pain. “No good,” I say, “I’m stuck - they might be broken.”

He looks around again. “Okay,” he says, thinking quickly, “I’m going to try to lift the fragment.” He positions himself, ready to lift. “When I count to three, you try to roll out. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Okay.” He readies himself, cracks his neck. “One… two… three!” He lifts and I manage to roll out, and he drops it. “Gods, that was heavy!”

I drag myself by my arms over to the base of one of the cliffs. “You okay?” I ask him.

“I’m fine,” he says, “It’s you I’m worried about.” He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. Then he starts looking through his pack. “I can’t find any medpacs!”

“I think they were in my pack,” I say, “Which is under the wreckage.”

“Damn!”

“It’s okay,” i say, “I can use the Force, just… “ I separate my legs and concentrate on them. “… just give me a second… “ I focus as hard as I can. A glow surrounds my legs, soft and warm. I take a deep breath. And then the glow stops. “Okay,” I say, breathing heavily, “I fixed the bones but there’s still some damage. But I’ve exhausted my Force, we’re going to have to stay here.” Something else - I can’t open my right eye. “Ow, what the…?”

“You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead,” he says, “I need something to tie it up.” He looks around for a bandage or a scrap of fabric.

“Here.” I tear the sleeves off my robe. “Is that enough?”

“Should be.” He starts to work, tying the sleeves together and wrapping it around my head. I laugh a little grimly. “What?”

“Not so beautiful now, am I?” I say wryly. 

He chuckles back. “Nah,” he says, “You’re still beautiful.” He tightly secures the makeshift bandage around my head. “Okay,” he says, “I’m going to try to make you comfortable.”

“No, Carth, I’ll be okay,” I tell him, “Go find the others. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m staying right here.”

“I’ll be fine, go,” I urge again, “Come back for me, I’ll be okay.”

“Rena, I’m not leaving you alone,” he says firmly, “You can’t change my mind.”

I sigh at him, but honestly, I’m glad he’s staying. I pull my lightsaber off my belt. “Here,” I say, “use that to cut the wreckage, maybe we can get my pack out.”

“I don’t want to risk cutting your pack.”

“Then be careful. Trust me, it’s not as hard to use as the Jedi would like you to think.” He takes the lightsaber and starts to cut pieces off the wreckage fragment. Goddamn, he’s sexy with a lightsaber. Thank God he uses blasters mainly instead of swords, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him.

The timeline of a dream -- daylight doesn’t last very long. Carth sets up a fire and when the Force comes back I establish some shelter for the night, jamming a chunk of the fragment into the cliff face. As the moon rises, Carth comes and sits next to me under the shelter. Makes sure I’m comfortable, keeping pressure off my legs. “Hey,” he says softly at one point, “you look tense, you okay?”

“Besides breaking my legs?” I say with an ironic smile. I sigh. “Yeah, I’m tense.”

“Let me help with that.” He pulls his jacket off my shoulders and starts to massage them. His hands press firmly into my muscles, but it still feels gentle. He knows what he’s doing, and he does it masterfully. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time. 

“That’s perfect,” I say, leaning back into him. His hands move from my shoulders and back closer to my neck, pressing his fingers into every sore spot, every tight muscle. Then his hands slow, and finally they stop, and he wraps his arms around me. Staring into the fire. Hearing the wood and palm fronds crackle. Watching sparks and cinders fly off and evaporate into nothing. He rests his head on my shoulder. Kisses my neck. I lean back further into him. My lips turn to his. And he smiles at me. Kisses me deeply. And it feels like the whole world falls away…

-------

Oh my God I’m in love with Carth.

[midnightprelude]

The Healer of Darktown

A little gift ficlet for @knife-earred-knight. You don’t know me, but I saw your tags on a post for @lethendralis-paints and was hoping to write something fluffy and emotional and hopeful for you, friend. I hope my favorite sewer mage can cheer you up, but I wish I could send him to your door. 

Hang in there. <3

Hawke had come to gather Anders just as the sun was beginning to creak over the horizon and their stomachs had both begun to remember what they were supposed to be doing. Hawke was always hungry and Anders was too, truth be told, but he had learned to forget about such things. Before Hawke, some days he would grow faint around bedtime and realize he hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. Hawke changed that and suspiciously his companions and acquaintances would always seem to drop in the clinic around mealtimes, bringing him food or forcing him to eat something from his stores. Anders would protest, joking about how he was getting mothered to death, but he secretly enjoyed the gesture.

Evening had come and gone, Anders wandering over to Hawke and telling them he would just see one more patient. One more, Hawke, and we can be off, but I really need to help this person… Hawke would smile and roll their eyes as their stomach groaned more loudly. 

“Take your time, Anders. I’m content watching you work.”

He had seen at least twenty more patients since Hawke had entered. 

Anders was exhausted, but the clinic was finally empty, save for the two lone figures. He was tossing his few valuables into the rucksack he always kept on hand when he ventured outside of Darktown. He grabbed his staff and smiled at Hawke, eyes weary but full of joy. 

“I’m finally ready.”

Hawke stood, pulling him into an embrace. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing up against one another as Hawke ran his hands through Anders’s hair. 

Anders grinned, his face lighting up from the affection. “You’re going to get blood all over you, Hawke. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Honestly?” Hawke laughed. “I would pour a bucket of the stuff over my head if it allowed me to be closer to you.”

Anders arched an eyebrow, grinning wryly, his heart beating faster. “That’s an interesting proposition. I could certainly adapt, but I feel like we get doused in blood regularly enough as it is. You don’t need to do much of anything to have me close to you.”

Hawke moved in to kiss him when they heard a knock at the door.

Hawke threw up their arms, exasperated. “Again?!” Hawke sighed, sitting back down. “Last one Anders, and we’re running from this place. They’ll keep finding you if you stay here more than a moment.”

Anders laughed and moved to greet his new patient.

It was an alienage elf, slight of frame. They seemed exhausted, but with a quiet resilience. The elf looked Anders straight in the eyes and frowned. “I was told that a healer would be here?” They looked around, noticed his supplies had already been put away. “I hope I’m not too late.”

Anders shook his head, smiling. “No, no. Not too late at all. I would be happy to help you in any way I can if you can tell me what the problem is!” He motioned for the patient to sit at a chair, one of the cleanest in the room. It was always hard to keep things clean in the sewers, but Anders certainly did his best.

“What is the matter, then? Tell me how you are feeling.”

The words came out in a rush, as though they had been keeping them in their chest for an eternity. “I haven’t felt right in over a year; things just keep piling up. I feel one thing and then another; I’ve been to a score of healers and alchemists but they never seem to do much of anything in the long term. I am so tired, so tired and hopeless and afraid and I feel as though nothing I do is working. It all seems so futile and I hurt. I hurt anywhere and everywhere from dawn until dusk, waking or sleeping, and I cannot get any rest. I was ready to give up completely—I have been trying so hard for so long—when someone told me of you. I am hoping you can help me. It doesn’t seem as though anyone else can. Though I do not know what I will do if you cannot. I’ve expended all of my coin and have very little to pay you with and no money to pay anyone else.”

Anders held up a hand, placing it on the patient’s shoulder. “I don’t need payment. Let me see what I can do. First of all, you’re rambling. Let’s see if we can do something about the stress.”

His hands began to glow and he closed his eyes. The blue light diffused across their skin and he could feel their pulse beginning to slow, blood pressure dropping. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the patient’s shoulders had begun to relax, ever so slightly.

“I know a thing or two about hopelessness. I’ve been pretty hopeless for most of my life. For a long time, inertia was the only thing keeping me alive, inertia and anger. I never gave much of a thought to whether or not I could be content, let alone happy. The thing about life though, is yes, it can usually get worse, but it almost always can get better.” He turned to Hawke, a foolish grin on his face. “Infinitely, unimaginably better.”

Anders placed a hand on the patient’s chest, breathing in slowly, closing his eyes again. “Ah, I can see what the problems are, actually. It will take me a few visits to try and repair the damage, but I assure you it can be done. For now, I will do what I can for the pain.” His hands began to glow again and he went to work, gently burning out the sickness. He couldn’t move too quickly with this patient, because it would be too painful. Care was necessary. Blasting away with someone so jumpy would be detrimental to their recovery and leave them in agony. 

Long minutes passed before Anders had finished. Hawke had fallen asleep against the wall while he worked. 

Anders looked at the patient, frowning. “Did that make any difference at all?”

The elf stood rapidly, moving more quickly than he had seen them move all evening. They threw their arms around the healer’s shoulders, beaming.

“Thank you. I feel better than I have in months, certainly.”

Anders smiled, relieved, as he pulled the patient into an embrace. “I am so glad. I’ll need you to come back every day this week and possibly next, but I can fix you up, friend. Do not worry.”

The patient pulled away, frowning. “How can I possibly repay you for such kindness? I was not exaggerating what I said earlier. My illness has made it difficult to work and my meagre savings have gone to snake-oil salesmen. You’re the first person to truly help.”

“I only have one payment I require.”

The patient cocked their head.

“Do your best to keep living and hold out hope that there are still better days to come. That’s all I ask.”

The elf sighed, tears welling in their eyes, as they gave him one more hug and hurried out of the clinic smiling.

Anders felt his own eyes begin to water as he moved to nudge Hawke. 

“I’m sorry that we’re going to be so late for our date, love.”

Hawke blinked sleepily. “Did you help them? They seemed like they could use it.”

Anders grinned, tears sliding down his face. Hawke reached up to wipe them away. “I think they may have helped me more than I helped them.”

Hawke laughed softly. “You realize you’re the only person who could heal a person and say something like that? I love you, Anders.”

Anders kissed Hawke, his heart feeling light at the sound of the words. “I love you too.”

“Now, food,” the said. “Immediately, before anyone else tries to help you.”

They quickly grabbed their cloaks and left the Darktown clinic, hurrying off into the night.

[beerecordings]

A Shadow Overcast

Part 19 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

This chapter is dedicated to a dear fren. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. hap birth my dear <333

ALSO @starlightxnightmare I have been waiting for MONTHS to tell you this but you noticed this discrepancy like FIVE CHAPTERS AGO OR SOMETHING LOL i saw your tags and i was like DAMN I’M TRANSPARENT. you asked the exact question that Chase asks in this chapter. love you you genius. enjoy.

My taglist is a separate post. You can ask to be added or removed. I am trying to make sure if it is up to date so seriously please tell me if you want to be taken off! and actually if you wouldn’t mind I would love to hear that you still want to be on the list if you are right now. I don’t know that everyone is still reading anymore and I don’t want to be bugging you!

Anyway. Chapter.

Marvin’s house is full of nightmares, and the magician himself is not there to enchant his brothers to safer sleep. Together, the four of them are shadowed and haunted, fighting and falling, losing grips to cling to with every day that passes.

Jameson Jackson has always dreamed vividly.

He is not the only one.

Blood and the silver gleam of a knife become chemicals at the nape of the brain stem, and Henrik dreams.

He's been taken out of his little prison cell. His handcuffs were removed, the blood was wiped from his cheeks, and careful hands made swaddling of white bandages around his torn flesh and tired ribs. The bone of his left wrist protrudes from his skin, broken in a single motion by Anti's hands not two days before, but it, like everything else in the world, has ceased to hurt him.

Warm is the darkness, gone the cold light.

“Isn't this easier?” asks Anti, not angry, or cold, or even condescending. His voice has the same tone as the night sky, when the stars have escaped from the light and stand singing in the shadow of infinity. “Don't you want to stay with me?”

Henrik is entranced.

Henrik is lost, is found, is lying, exhausted, on Anti's chest, his bruised eyes closed and his mouth, blue as heliotrope, still and silent. He manages a slow nod. Tears leave dark wet patches on Anti's soft black shirt. The demon strokes his hair.

“Yeah, this is better,” Anti hums, burrowing closer to him under the covers of the bed and letting his chin rest on top of Henrik's head.

The doctor's flayed hands reach out to wrap around him, clutching at his sides, at his back, at his thin sharp spine, at his warmth. He is dazed, exhausted, collapsing, in love; he is consumed and adoring, and yes, Anti is right – this is better, this is easier, so much better, so much easier! The warmth is becoming heat and he is shaking, panting, weeping, ill, and for a second something bright and painful explodes through his awareness and he whimpers, but Anti is here to soothe it away with the same hands that have tortured him, tortured him, tortured him –

He wakes up.

Tears cling to his dark eyelashes. The moon has slid in beneath the blinds of his window, coating his blue blankets in recycled sunlight. There's something very warm wrapped around his waist.

Check that. Someone.

Jameson shivers in his sleep, clinging tight to Henrik's shirt and breathing low and slow against his shoulder. For a second, Henrik is repulsed so strongly that he gags, but his disgust is not directed at his little brother.

So fucking pathetic, his brain tells itself. So fucking pathetic. Still craving Anti?

He'd been in recovery, before Anti took him again. He'd been doing alright. He'd forgotten it was possible to hate himself this much – to hate himself so much it makes his chest burn and his heart stutter and his fingers curl up with a desperation that he can't even express in words.

He's sobbing, sobbing like his heart is broken, but he'll be damned if he wakes up his little brother, his little brother who trusts him and only him, his little brother who comes to him weeping and curls up in his arms like he isn't afraid or disgusted by him, who loves him in the simplest and most pure way, a way he doesn't deserve; no, he won't wake Jameson up. He won't wake Jameson up. He'll get up and have something to calm him down, and then he'll come back to bed before the cold wakes jumpy JJ up.

Inch by inch, wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes, Henrik slips out of his bed and limps to his drawer, pulling out his medicine.

“Two tablets before sleep,” prescribes the bottle helpfully. “Do not take more than six tablets in twenty-four hours.”

Henrik pours two pills into his hand and pops them both in his mouth together, swallowing them dry and pausing to breathe afterwards. He turns, for a moment, to glance at his friend. The moon colors an old cut at the bottom of Jameson's throat white and makes his dark bruises, still stagnant after a week of recovery, seem to glow through the cold night light.

How am I supposed to convince the little one that Anti is dangerous when I can't even convince myself? How am I supposed to keep him with me when Anti has that kind of power to offer and I have nothing? How long will he be here with me before Anti steals us both away again? If only he had never been taken. If only I had never been taken. If only I had never been created. God, God! Do I have to live through this shame again?

Death feels close and tastes like a sleeping tablet.

He takes a third pill.

Crawling back into bed, Jameson shifts and curls, digging his chin into his shoulder, and Henrik, breathing in the sweet coconut smell his little brother has adopted, goes back to sleep.

Marvin's house is the only place in the world he and his family are safe. It is no longer a comforting thought. He is tired.

Henrik von Schneeplestein has long been haunted.

He is not the only one.

“Where are you?” whispers Jackie, clutching at the torn remnants of a red cape. “Where are you? Please come home.”

The wind whips loud around him, striking blows against his flesh and tearing at his hair. He grits his teeth against the cutting air and steps forward, forward, farther along the beam of the crane.

Brighton is beautiful 100 meters in the air.

“Where are you?” he screams. “Where, where, where? Don't tell me you're gone, I can't take it! Please, please, come home!”

His boots slip against the metal of the beam, but he gasps and sways and steadies again, inching closer, closer to the edge.

He can't fly.

His body is so fucking shattered, he's so fucking weak, and his little brother will not be there to catch him, will not douse him in blue light and grab his hand, laughing as they rise together, twins and friends and brothers, hallowed by the moon while Jackie fills up with his own homemade sunshine, a hero, a star –

“Focus!” shouts Marvin, and Jackie lets out a scream as he finds his brother all too suddenly before him, his long hair blown wildly about by the wind. He hovers above him like a specter, glorious and beautiful and angrier than Jackie's ever seen him, teeth gritted. “Focus, Astrifer!”

“On what?” he demands, bewildered and terrified, retreating away from this ghost in the air before him, but Marvin follows without hesitation, setting his feet down on the beam of the crane and reaching out a white hand.

“I love you!” he cries. “But I need you to stop crying out! I need you to watch over them!”

“What are you talking about?” gasps Jackie. The wind drags tears from his eyes. “Where are you, please, tell me you're alive, come home, I can't bear this – ”

“Bear it,” says Marvin.

A dream of Marvin, anyway. Jackie's Marvin was never so cold.

“Bear it, protect them. There is all of time and no time at all.”

His hand points back towards the body of the crane. Panting like his heart will give out, Jackie turns his eyes away from Marvin and back towards the darkness.

“S-Seán?” he stammers, catching sight of a silhouette in the darkness.

And there, holding his creator over the edge of a crane tall enough to build skyscrapers, sits Jameson Jackson, staring back at him, one eye blue and one eyes black.

“Enemy or brother?” cries Marvin, over the howling of the wind, terrible and oppressive and endless, a constant, constant, constant enemy cutting close on every side.

“I don't know!” shouts Jackie. “I'm scared!”

“Choose,” answers Marvin. “It is Anti who taught you fear and you must be courageous again, or what you have left will not be yours for much longer.”

Jackie screams, falling to his knees, clinging to the beam beneath his feet. Somewhere far away, he thinks he can hear Chase and Henrik crying out in answer, but in the darkness he can catch no glimpse of them.

“Go back to them,” says Marvin, stepping away.

“Wait,” cries Jackie. “Wait, please.”

“Please, stop begging for me.”

“Why can't I go with you?” he howls. “Why won't you come home?”

Marvin calls an answer, but Jackie is no longer listening. He staggers back to his feet and turns away from Seán and Jameson, moving towards the end of the beam again, trembling and elated, terrified and desperate.

“I want to go with you,” he shouts, and he sees Marvin's mouth move in the shape of his name, and then he has reached the end of the crane and his foot reaches out over nothingness and still he is stepping towards him.

The fire alarm erupts into shrieking and Jackie comes awake screaming and covered in tears, shaking with fever and bleeding from the mouth. Falling, he had bitten his tongue hard enough for the blood to come.

He scrambles out of bed, covering his ears against the crying of the fire alarm, and groans as his chest and back light up with fire. Pausing, he tumbles against the bulletin boards on his wall, strings and pushpins holding together theories and clues, only to find himself staring at his missing persons board, not yet up to date, where Marvin and Jameson's screenshot faces smile back at him from the days when they were both healthy and whole and his.

And he is just the coward who could not save them, coated in a hundred scars and deserving of every one of them, crying so hard he cannot breathe, while his brothers are fighting fire in the next room over.

“You're drunk.”

“Shhh,” pleads Chase, as if Jameson's signing were a shout. “Shhh, I'm not, I'm not, don't say that – ”

“I can tell from the way you move.” Jameson ducks away from his soothing hands, vaguely irritated. “And you would never burn the sausage sober.”

The fire alarm has shut up, but only because they took the batteries out. The whole room is full of smoke. The sausage is very burned. Chase is drunk.

“Cut me some slack, Jamie, I've been having bad dreams and I just needed a break from them. Lately I feel like – ”

“Are you drunk?”

Chase startles to see Henrik appeared halfway down the staircase, glaring across the room.

“N-no,” he answers, grinning flimsily. “Just, uh. Fucked up the sausage. Sorry for setting off the alarm.”

“Jamie,” says Henrik, frowning at him. “Is he drunk?”

Jameson glances between the two of them, considering. Survival is a game and even small decisions like this should be carefully weighed out.

He doesn't want to stress Schneep out, he decides. It's upsetting for the whole house, himself included.

“Don't think so,” he tells Henrik, relaxing against the kitchen counter and grinning. “Just a klutz.”

Henrik stares down at them for a long moment.

“I'm going back to bed,” he grumbles, retreating back up the stairs.

“Thanks, Jay,”  sighs Chase, only feeling a little guilty. Better than getting caught, right?

“Why do you get drunk?”

“Shit, I don't know, cause I'm a fucking moron?” He sighs deep and rubs at his face, opening the door to air out some of the smoke he's created. “It helps me sleep, I guess. Been having bad dreams. And I just – I don't know, kind of anxious lately. You and Schneep are back but... no one else.”

Jameson blinks. Maybe he's just talking about Jack being asleep, but some part of him understands that that's not who he means.

A sixth brother.

Anti only ever spoke about him when he was in what Jameson considered a gentle mood. While the mask might be discussed over a good beating or a pool of blood, the cat was a bedtime horror story, a being whispered of when Anti's arms were around his stomach, his warnings more genuine than his affection.

“Why do they call him a magician?” asked Jameson once, his mouth trembling. “What can he do?”

“Everything,” Anti answered in a whisper. “I don't know the full extent of it.”

“I don't know” was no common phrase in their house.

“I don't know enough to be sure. And so you must assume, my little heart, that the answer is 'everything.'”

Anti leaned in close and kissed his cheek, and when he drew away, there was no one in the world who would have said the softness in his gaze was false.

“Be careful,” murmured Anti, touching his cheek. “If he ever finds a way past me, he will kill you, Dapper. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Anti.”

He buried his face in his brother's shoulder, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, trying to offer comfort.

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

“C-H?” he asks now, turning up his gaze, still not sure what to name his brother. “I want to ask you something.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Where's the cat?”

Down the hall, there is an empty room that still smells of incense and flowers.

“Oh!” Chase grins, turning to him with bright eyes. “You saw him wandering around, huh?”

So he is here! Jameson has been wondering all week where he lives, why he isn't with the others, what happened to him. He sits up straight in his seat, calculating quickly about the danger he might be in. Chase wouldn't let him get hurt, right? Anti warned him about Jackie, too, but Chase and Henrik have kept him safe so far.

“You want to meet him?”

“Is he... friendly?”

“Yeah, super friendly! That one is, anyway. Come on, let's go try to find him.”

“What – outside?”

“Yeah, he spends most of his time outside.”

Jameson's eyes widen. “You'll come outside with me?”

Chase laughs. “I swear you're like a dog when it comes to going on walks. You're a wild man, Jays. Yeah, let's go outside! Fresh air'll probably do my dumb ass some good.”

Jameson's face splits in a wide grin. For a second, he is little different from the man in the video last Halloween, bright and delighted, energetic and expressive, and it makes Chase laugh aloud, instantly cheered. Bolstered by his delight, Jameson jumps down from the kitchen stool and darts to the back door, yanking it open, finding it unlocked, and leaping into the snow.

“Dude!” Chase protests, but he's only laughing harder. “Shoes, you complete pantaloon! Shit, and a coat – can you wait two goddamn seconds?”

Jameson grins and steps down from a wood porch as Chase runs off to get him something to wear. Beneath the slushy spring-touched snow he can feel soft dead grass, and the air cuts like something cleaner and more beautiful than even the blade of a fresh knife across his skin and through his downy hair. Breathing in deep, he propels himself forward and leaps, cartwheeling across the white landscape, picking up snow and tossing it in the air, freed as Anti used to free him.

Days when he was allowed outside were his favorite days. They lived far from civilization – the closest highway was some miles away, not that he knew which direction – and what had once been farmland had become mires of old wheat fields and copses of heavy peaceful trees. The cold rarely stopped him, but then again there were days where he had feared it, like the day the door to the house had accidentally locked and he was stuck outside for hours, weeping as he froze, knocking and pounding for Anti to come save him, his fingers turning white, and then red, and then purple...

He still loved going outside, though. He just never thought anybody would want to come with him. He's not really worth spending time around.

“Here you go,” Chase says, coming up beside him and taking his hands in his own, shoving a pair of soft mittens over his fingers. Jameson blinks up at him, warmed.

“And the coat,” Chase adds, helping him stick his arms into it. Jameson pulls it tight around him and drags the fabric up to his nose, shivering and sighing contentedly into the warmth.

“Here, put my boots on too. We'll have to get you some clothes of your own soon! Maybe next week we can go, if Schneep's feeling safe about it.”

“New clothes for me?”

“Yeah, of course. And anything else you need. I think we could start making that spare room your room, you know? We'll get some decorations or books or something.”

Jameson stares up at him, tugging the second boot onto his foot.

“Everything okay?” asks Chase, frowning. He's wrapped up in a coat and a beanie, wet snow soaking into his sneakers.

Jameson swallows hard, a tsunami of guilt and shame, love and gratitude, uncertainty and caution welling up in his throat.

He wants to keep you, says something in the back of his head. He doesn't plan to throw you out at all. And you're just planning to leave.

Well, answers a darker, angrier part of him, the part of him that wants to tell Chase to fuck off and to run away into the forest and finds his way back to – to what? What's waiting for him? Anti told me the same, that he meant to keep me. That's why we're here. People lie, Jameson.

Chase slings an arm around him and JJ jumps. “Sorry,” Chase chuckles. “I'll warn you next time. Is this okay?”

Jameson reaches up to touch the hand set on his shoulder, turning his head to look into Chase's eyes. The weight of Chase's arm is the best kind of heaviness. He isn't afraid to touch him at all, and only a week ago Jameson had him at gunpoint, glaring down at him with hatred in his eyes.

He always loved Anti, but he would never have called him “good.” Even in his earliest days, he was cognizant of the reality that there was a great cruelty in his brother, and he saw very little goodness in Anti, in the house, in the world around him.

He thinks Chase is probably what goodness looks like.

“Yes,” he knocks. “It's okay.”

For a second, Chase smiles at him so soft that Jameson thinks he's probably what happiness looks like too.

“Sweet!” he says, squeezing his shoulder. “Let's go find that cat, man!”

Chase shoots Henrik a text to tell him they'll be out for a while and they set off into the forest, Jameson still hugged under his brother's arm. Chase can tell he's enjoying himself from the brightness of his eyes and the energy of his step as he wanders beside him, his gaze following the swift brown birds through the sky and the dripping of water from the the dark branches of the trees.

And Athanasius doesn't make himself hard to find. They've only been walking for about twenty minutes when he appears.

“Meow!” he greets them, sprinting up to Chase's side, pressing his head up against his calves, yowling noisily. He's a loud-mouthed cat and always has been. Chase always loved that. He laughs and scoops the little grey cat into his arms, scratching enthusiastically at his ears.

“Hey there, good boy,” he grins, pushing their foreheads together. “How you living, buddy? Ate the last of my fish yesterday, you know. I'll get you more, don't worry.”

He turns around with the cat in his arms, expecting a smile or maybe some tentative attempts to pet him from his little brother, but Jameson just looks confused.

Bewildered, really.

“Um, you good?” he asks, laughing uncertainly.

Jameson stares at Athanasius. “That's... the cat?”

“Yeah?” frowns Chase, double-checking the sign for cat in his head. “Oh! Maybe you were expecting Queenie, huh? You've seen her around, have you? This is Athanasius. Don't ask me why Marvin named him that. He told me once, but it was something about immortality and magic and names he found funny – anyway, this is the cat.”

Jameson bursts into laughter.

“What?” stammers Chase, taking his turn at complete confusion. “What's so funny? Jameson?”

“Holy shit,” says Jameson. He never takes the time to sign curse words, but this – holy fuck. “Anti used to tell me all these stories about how dangerous he is and what a threat and a monster and then you tell me we're going to meet him and you turn around holding – ”

He doubles in on himself, his chest shaking hard. Chase can't help but join him in laughter, setting Athanasius down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The cat,” Jameson repeats, as if it's obvious, and very funny to boot. “The cat – what was that name you just said? I didn't know his name, the three of you don't talk about him. The magician.”

Chase stills, staring. Athanasius sits down beside him, his head tilted up at Jameson. In the trees, the birds have fallen into respectful silence.

Like a vigil.

“Marvin?” whispers Chase.

His voice breaks down the middle of the word. Jameson stops laughing.

“Yes,” he says softly. “That name. Are you okay?”

“I,” says Chase.

Marvin. Marvin. Marvin.

“I'm fine,” he whispers.

Anti used to tell him stories.

Used to tell him he was dangerous.

Used to call him a threat.

“Anti warned you about him?”

Chase can taste his heart in his mouth. It is difficult to breathe. A euphoria is beginning in his chest.

“Anti warned you about Marvin?”

Jameson stares at him. Looks down at his hands.

Knocks “yes,” gently.

“Yes, he warned me.”

Chase wonders that the whole forest does not sing. His heart does.

“Alive!” he screams, so loudly even Athanasius goes scrambling away from him, and then he takes off at a sprint back the way they came, towards Jackie and Henrik and the house their brother gave him, their Marvin, the cat, the magician. “Alive, alive, alive!”

He's been wondering so long.

“Jackie!” he cries, bursting into the house through the back door, panting hard. Is he really so out of shape? Fuck it, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this. He darts down the hallway, showing up in Jackie's open doorway looking like a wild thing, bright-eyed with tears.

He’s been wondering where his big brother is for so, so long.

“What the hell?” demands Jackie weakly, trying to sit up straight in his chair. “Chase, chill.”

He couldn't go back to sleep after the fire alarm. He's just been sitting here, thinking.

Are you really gone? reads a sticky note on one of his bulletin boards, stuck next to a polaroid of Marvin's face, smiling as he holds up a shut-eyed silver kitten, healthy and safe, happy, unharmed...

“Jackie.” Chase draws his attention back. “Jackie, Marvin's alive.”

He feels so many things at once he feels nothing at all.

“Chase,” he whispers, turning away again.

“I mean it! Jameson said so!”

“Jameson – no, he didn't. Or if he did... Look – just – come on, man, don't do this to me, I'm exhausted.”

“He told me Anti warned him about Marvin. That he told him he was dangerous. He wanted to meet him! Look, Jackie, I know how long we've searched. I know how long you tried to find him. And I know it doesn't look good, with all that blood that was on the floor where he was – and his broken mask – and the hand Anti cut off – and I know it's weird that Jameson and Schneep have never seen Marvin in captivity with them, like it seems like Anti would have kept them all together or at least nearby, but – ”

Jackie buries his face in his hands, trying to breathe. He can't handle this right now. He can't handle this ever.

“But Jameson said so and why would he lie?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons, actually,” gripes out Jackie. “Upsetting us, for one. Or Anti told him to. What if he's trying to lead us out of the house? Bet he'll tell you a location next. 'You can find Marvin here!' And then we all get caught by Anti.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Pretty sure I do. Let's not do this now, Chase.”

“Jackie, listen!” Chase moves to his side, gripping the back of his chair and spinning him around so that they stand side by side, but his brother still fails to meet his eyes. “Jameson asked me where he was. He doesn't think Marvin's dead. Don't you think Anti would have told him if he had killed Marv? Why would Anti warn him about him if he was gone? I bet he would be crowing it from the rooftops if he had managed to kill our Marvin. He would have told Jameson.”

“Chase,” says Jackie, just quietly, his nails digging into the end of his arm rests. “Jameson also didn't know that Jack was in a coma. I heard Henrik explaining it to him two days ago.”

“He knew Jack was in hospital. And asleep. I think that counts.”

“Didn't know my name or Marvin's, never once used the word coma – and there's a sign for it, one he knows, I checked – doesn't even know that Anti's had two attempts on Jack's life. Or that I've been fucking crippled since the day Anti beat me. How's that for something Anti should have been crowing from the rooftops?”

Chase pauses and licks his lips, rocking back on his heels. “Okay, fine,” he concedes. “That's weird, but it still doesn't make sense for Anti to not have told... well, yeah, I would think he would have told him that Jack was in a coma and Marvin was dead, but...”

Jackie runs his hands over his face. “Anti didn't tell the little man much, okay? It doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry, I wish it did – trust me, I fucking wish it meant anything. But it just... doesn't.”

There's a lump somewhere low in Chase's throat. “Why are you so determined to say it isn't true? Don't you want Marvin to be alive? You've given up on him.”

Jackie's on his feet so fast Chase nearly tumbles backwards, but his brother grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close, so Chase can't miss the fury in his eyes. The lights are brighter than they were a moment ago. For a second, Chase stares right back at Jackie, his mouth drawn in a snarl, but then his will breaks and tears spark in his blue eyes.

Jackie softens, regret replacing rage. He lets Chase go and sinks back down, slowly, into his chair. He curls in on himself, his chest aching and his heart beating too fast. He looks old. He looks small. The lights have gone dark again and everything is still.

“Chaser,” Jackie croaks. “Will you please go get Henrik? Anti told me something and I think it's time you both heard.”

“What?”

“Please go get Henrik.”

“Where's Marvin?”

“Go get Henrik. Go get Henrik.”

Chase obeys. Henrik comes. And Jackie, in a voice as small as a star-speck and as shaky as a knife-wound, tells them what Anti said.

Jameson has heard screaming many times – screams of anger, of pain, of fury, of fear. Screams of grief, as he finds out that day, are the most horrible of them all.

[amemixfan]

If you continue that with Hope saying "fuck you, Magnus" at some point I will love you forever

It has been a really long time since I wrote something. Here is an extra long post. ———

After so long, I thought I would be prepared for coming face to face with Magnus again. I thought I would be able to face him, that being with the Resistance would instill a shred of a warrior’s spirit in me, but any tiny drop of confidence I once had evaporates the moment my eyes meet Magnus’.

His face is locked on a patronizing smile as he roughly tugs me away from the magical trap I had accidentally activated. One of his hands painfully locks around my wrist while the other hefts his axe to one side. The blade glints ominously as if by threat. If I dare to try and run, I won’t make it very far.

“Look who I found wandering around my lands,” Magnus voices out. The corner of his mouth turns up in a sneer and he looks away from me towards the trees.

Helena and Alain emerge from opposite sides of the woods at the same time. By the look of their faces and the sound of their breaths, they had ran all the way here. I feel Helena’s presence in my mind, her magic so close to the spell blocking my memory, and feel tiny pinpricks of pain run down the length of my scalp.

“Who-?” Helena drifts off when she spots me. Her face remains impassive but I see a shred of recognition in her gaze when she approaches. She remembers me in the same way I remember her.

Magnus spins me around so I am facing Alain and Helena. They stop feet away from me and Alain lowers his weapon. At his side, Helena flicks her wrist and the spell I have activated snaps back into place and lets me go.  

“It seems my darling wife has returned to me,” Magnus idly comments, “About time.”

His tone of voice is casual, patronizing, yet the grip on my wrist tightens painfully. I can feel the anger radiating off of him as he stands next to me. I have deeply humiliated him by leaving, and I have to reel in my emotions to keep from displaying my fear.

“Magnus,” I whisper. His name leaves my lips in a pained breath and I draw myself inward. My body is beginning to shake and some of the color is leaving my face. A familiar fear is beginning to settle across me and I am powerless to stop it.

“Your wife?” Alain comments. He looks away from me and instead focuses on the trees nearby almost as if disgusted by the sight of me.

Magnus tugs me forward and I am forced to walk at his side. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me flush against him in a very awkward and threatening embrace. I tense and a part of me, the piece of myself that spent years enduring him, slowly begins to recede into a dark corner. Without meaning to, I begin to fall into the old me, the one trapped in an ivory tower.

“My wife went missing during the fight where Captain Goldhart escaped. I couldn’t find her because someone had removed her ring,” he lifts up my bandaged hand.

A hiss of a breath sounds from the other two, startled horror, and they look away. I bite the inside of my cheek suddenly reminded of the ring I had left behind and the agony that it had been to remove it. Feeling a little ill, I yank my arm back.

Magnus is playing at an angle, aiming for something, and I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His gaze is focused on me and I can see a patronizing false pity on his face. His embrace tightens just a bit.

“Were you afraid, dear? Did they forcibly take you?” His voice drips with false compassion.

A lightbulb clicks in my head. So that’s the angle he is playing at.

His wife running from him would be a blatant embarrassment. Magnus always projected confidence and arrogance when I was at his side. He paraded me around like his doll to every event and flaunted the power he had over me to anyone who would see us. To have me run from him would be a spit on everything he tried to project. He wants Helena and Alain to believe that I was taken from him against his will. By reducing me to a helpless victim, he gets to seem like a gallant knight.

A wave of fury rises in me. After years chained to him by spells and rings, I am done being used as a victim.

As Magnus continues playing the part of the concerned husband whose wife was stolen away by a bad man, I snap. I throw my body to one side and manage to escape his embrace through sheer surprise alone. A startled sound leaves his lips and I glare at him with as much venom as I can.

“Fuck you, Magnus!”

There is a large pause full of shocked silence. Alain and Helena are gaping at me with undisguised shock, and Magnus is stock still as if his mind can hardly comprehend my outburst.

My heart beats wildly against my rib cage and my fingers clench into tight fists at my side. How long have I spent a prisoner to him? How long was I chained at his side with no method or means of escape? How could I have let myself be taken down so easily?

Color floods my cheeks and I force myself to meet Magnus’ eyes. He’s startled, I can see utter shock in his gaze, and his lips are parted. In all the years I had been with him, I never once spoke back.

I may have disobeyed, I may have plotted my escape with my every breath, but I never raised my voice to him. To do so would have been suicide. He lorded my death over my head for so long that I believed myself a corpse on the ground with no means of escape-

But I won’t let him treat me as a doll any longer. He locked me up in an ivory tower but I found my way out. I sacrificed everything to leave and will not allow myself to be imprisoned again. I am tired, I am angry, but most of all, I am strong.

Magnus raises his hand and a coil of fear tightens in my stomach. I tense and await the blow like always but the fire inside me refuses to douse. If he will hit me, I will fight back. My hands move up to shield my face and my tongue is poised to strike-

And suddenly the taste of magic fills my mouth. My tongue is pressed down to my mouth gagging me and my hands are seized by invisible hands who forcibly hold them together before me.

I look towards Helena who has her fingers moving in circles. Her magic zaps at her fingertips and the look she gives me is frigid. She turns to Magnus with an eyebrow cocked.

“Must be in shock from everything,” she remarks. Her hands move down to her canister and she passes it over to me. Water.

She gets close to me and forces the canteen to my mouth. Cold water rushes down my throat and my tongue is released from her magical grip. Her mouth moves near my ear and she hisses a single word at me.

”Quiet.”

Her eyes are narrowed as she screws the lid back on after I’ve coughed down my share of water but she doesn’t move away from me. Instead, she almost moves me slightly away from Magnus with a hand at my back and steps protectively before me.

She’s protecting me, I realize. Some of my earlier anger deflates and I dig my nails into my skin.

Had she not stopped me, I would have fought back. I would have taken on Magnus-

And then he would have killed me. He would have struck me dead and everything I’ve survived would have been for naught. I have to keep my wits about me if I am to live.

Magnus recovers after another moment, vivid fury still burning in his gaze, and his hand drops back down. He doesn’t dare strike me, not with Helena before me and Alain eyeing him nearby with a hand near his sword. To hit me in front of them would be foolish. Magnus would be seen as a weak willed husband who could do nothing to control his wife but to beat her into submission. To someone so concerned of how others perceive him and with a fragile masculinity he needs to preserve, nothing would be worse.

He reels himself in and gives me a final glare before turning to Helena and Alain.

“Her time away must have frightened her. She was always obedient,” a pointed glare at my direction, “But she is back with me. I am sure she will recover.”

He narrows his eyes at me and fishes underneath his armor. On a gold chain rests his wedding band, the one enchanted to mine.

“I felt you leave the barrier when Goldhart kidnapped you. I have been tracking your movements since.”

I eye the ring on the chain and grind my teeth together. My hand with my missing finger throbs and I almost feel dizzy. The memory of what it took to escape the charm fills me and I have to suppress a shudder.

A hand at my shoulder keeps me steady. I turn to see that Alain has moved to my side. Like Helena he serves as a half shield from Magnus. His eyes are narrowed pensively and his hand is still at his sword.

“Well you found her,” his voice is cold, “But we have more important matters. Goldhart marches on Lennox’s domain. His men will invade our lands. We have a task to complete.”

He moves past Magnus and knocks his shoulder purposefully as he walks. Magnus grits his teeth and glares at his back.

Helena makes a sound underneath her breath.

“General Richter is right. The Witch Queen ordered us to bring her the head of the Captains of the Resistance. We are not here for your marriage counseling.”

She puts a hand on my back and moves me around so that she is behind me and we are walking away from Magnus. Acting as a shield, she moves me towards a fallen tree log and eases me down into it. My wrists are still bound so she keeps me steady as I sit.

I eye her wearily, suspicious, yet she ignores me.

“I have not forgotten my responsibility,” Magnus’ reply is as frigid as the Witch Queen. He tucks his wedding band back under his armor and he pulls out a map. The Fairy Domain has been circled and bolded.

I bite the inside of my cheek and try to make myself seem small as I think.

Ryland and the others have marched there already. They are probably halfway there. Magnus is behind. The thought fills me with some relief but I try not to let it show.

“The Resistance is ahead of us now. Lennox called for our forces a long time ago. We must move on. We sent our men ahead of us but they will be of no use without us as their heads. We have to move now,” Alain calls out from behind Magnus, “We have no time to waste. Take your wife back to your castle and leave her there. She will be a nuisance on the battlefield.”

Helena murmurs her agreement as her fingers move before her. I feel her magic seep into my skin and some of the exhaustion and pain from my journey recedes. Her magic is almost soothing in a way and I feel a part of myself ease up.

“You can leave her at your home before we march on. No need bringing her with us when you will be at war-“

“Not quite,” Magnus interrupts. His gaze is on me, assessing every inch of me, and I feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand. I hate him, every fiber of my being loathes him, and to be stared at by him makes me feel exposed somehow. I hunch my shoulders as if to shield myself from view.

“Goldhart had to have taken her somewhere nearby. An encampment perhaps? His little brigade is fond of those. I have no doubt my loyal and obedient wife may know a thing or two that could help us. Saving Lennox’s hide is all well and good, but finding the Resistance’s camp is much more beneficial. Think of the gold mine we’d hit by finding their hideaway.”

My blood turns cold at his words and it takes all of my strength to stay quiet.

The Resistance’s encampment is nearby, he’s right about that. If they find it, it’s all over. Ryland and Caligo took their best men out, but everyone else is hidden away. It would be a massacre and I would be the cause.

My fingers begin to shake and I am glad Helena’s magic keeps my arms tightly bound. Otherwise, I may do something reckless out of pure fear.

Magnus moves on me like a hawk. He approaches me and his gaze is powerful. I feel stripped bare as he takes in every inch of me.

I am wearing clothes from the Resistance, I am not entirely ragged from a long journey, and there is some semblance of nourishment in me. I have been well cared for and he knows it had to have been a camp. Only a camp could have provided me with the level of care I received.

“I-“

I open my mouth to concoct some lie about something, anything, but Alain beats me to it. He’s staring at his own map, measuring the distance with his thumb, and his jaw is tight.

“Are you purposefully trying to be dense, Magnus? We have no time for a foolish bid. The Resistance has several camps. We find one, they’ll move to another one. Meanwhile, Goldhart and Hawkeye march as we speak. Lennox’s lands will fall if we dally.”

Helena glares fiercely at Magnus as well. “Do you take Goldhart for a fool? He would have hidden his camp well and blindfolded your wife before taking her. She knows nothing.”

I raise my chin and make my voice seem feeble. Perhaps there is strength in weakness after all. My eyes burn with tears.

“I don’t know where it is. I just ran,” I shrink into myself to play off the effect.

My heart is a hummingbird in my chest and my legs shake. No matter what, I can not let him find the encampment.

I was an idiot to have ever left the camp, but I will not allow myself to be a risk to everyone who remains within.

Magnus’ eyes flash with a challenge and his double bladed axe is in his hand. Alain and Helena tense preparing for some battle. I tuck myself flat against the tree trunk and avert my gaze.

The Generals fight all the time, I recall, and I have definitely seen them get bloody before. Serving the Witch Queen does not make them loyal to each other. They often trade blows like lovers trade kisses and more than once I’ve seen them bleed each other out. It wouldn’t surprise me if they attack each other now.

Yet Magnus takes no step towards Helena or Alain. Instead, he marches towards the tree line.

“Goldhart’s forces are ways away from Lennox’s lands. We can take a bit to search for the camp and still make it in time for all the fun. Imagine how pleased our Queen will be when we deliver not only the Captains but one of the Resistance’s encampments? She will reward us then.”

He sets his axe down and comes towards me. His arm hauls me up and I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. His arm will certainly leave a bruise.

Alain and Helena are tense as they watch him grab me. I am reminded of all the times he has hurt me before in front of the Generals. He never dared raise a hand to me in front of them before, it would have been humiliating to him, but there were always other ways to harm me.

No one ever stepped in to help me in the years that I was at his side. The day Magnus had taken me, Alain had been there. He had said nothing as Magnus selected me as his own and had simply turned his back when Magnus had forced me to leave with him. Then Helena had complied with the Witch Queen and Magnus’ orders by enchanting my wedding ring and erasing my memories. She had never raised a finger to help me either and even now refused to release the magic she held over me as Magnus forced me to walk.

“You can try to find it for me, can’t you?” Magnus shakes my arm furiously. His pent up anger simmers underneath his skin as his nails pierce flesh. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out.

Fear settles within me, that familiar feeling I always got right before he did something to me, but it is accompanied by white hot anger and something deeper, primal. It is protective and strong. I will not give up the encampment, no matter what he does. He can raise his blade to my neck and I will die with the encampment’s location accompanying me to my grave.

“I didn’t see the way,” I protest, “It’s all a blur. I just ran for hours until I reached your lands.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as his grip tightens even further. I am sure he will break bone as he takes his anger out on my arm-

And then Alain is at his side wrenching his arm off me. He shoves Magnus away and takes my wrist in his. His grip is forceful yet it lacks the pain that Magnus’ grip brought.

“She will hardly be able to think between the pain of a missing finger and a broken arm,” he hisses, “Give her time. We can walk around the perimeter of the area for a bit to see if something jogs her memory. Otherwise, it’s fruitless to try.”

Magnus glares at him reproachfully but cocks his head to the side and cracks his neck. His fist is squeezed at his side and he reluctantly complies. He can’t lose control of his anger, not in front of Alain and Helena. It would ruin his reputation of being in control of me.

“Then lead the way, my obedient wife.”

He does not wait for me to start walking before shoving his way past some trees. Alain forces me forward and Helena takes my other side using her magic to illuminate our path through eternal darkness.  

—————

Magnus’ lands are a labyrinth and I get lost several times. It is only the Generals’ sense of direction that keeps us from going in circles. Pretty soon, we pass the barrier marking the end of his realm and find ourselves in more woods.

The trees all look the same and I am relieved for it. If I can’t recognize the path ahead of me, I can’t possibly bring them anywhere close to the camp.

“This is pointless, we waste time,” Helena hisses. She folds her arms in front of her chest and digs her heels in the terrain. Spinning on me, her lip curls with distaste. “Does anything resemble a camp to you?”

“No!” I protest for the hundredth time then realize I sounded too forceful. Getting a hold of my emotions once more, I make my voice sound desperate. “Please! I never saw the way to the camp!”

For the first time, I am thankful that I am hungry, tired, and shell shocked. The tears come faster than what I meant and add to my desperation perfectly. I let them roll down my chin before I move my bound hands upwards and make an attempt to wipe them away.

Magnus scoffs and Helena directs her ire at him instead.

“As Alain told you before, we have more pressing matters at hand. Let us give up this fool’s bid and head for the Coastal Domain. The Resistance is bound to be close now.”

Ryland is traveling with a whole rank of men. A group that large will be traveling slowly even if they only make necessary stops. They must be close to the Coast now-

But not close enough. If Magnus and the others depart now, they will be close on them too soon. They are only three companions.

I have to find a way to slow them down. Anything.

I move away from Alain’s grip and stare at a random tree’s direction. Alain’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously and Helena purses her lips.

“Anything?” Magnus takes notice of my reaction.

“I-“

I don’t give an immediate answer. Instead, I pretend to be entranced. I walk closer and grind my teeth.

“I recognize this,” I murmur.

Magnus wastes no time in moving towards me. “Did Goldhart take this path with you?”

I don’t answer him. Alain rolls his eyes and Helena clenches her jaw. They are fed up with Magnus’ dream of finding the camp.

“What are you waiting for? Find the camp!”

Magnus gives me a forceful shove and I stumble. I manage to right my balance out of miracle and quicken my step to prevent him from coming too close.

“This is pointless,” Helena hisses but she follows at my heels and, after another moment, Alain steps towards me too.

Praying that I’m giving the Resistance enough time to reach the Coast, I walk them further in the woods.

—————

I lead them on a wild goose chase. For the most part, I am successful.

I really do not know the woods, so it is hardly difficult to get lost in them. I zig zag through the trees and bite my lip until it bleeds pretending to be deep in thought. When Magnus begins to get furious, I let a few tears out and cower behind Helena or Alain. They keep Magnus away and get more frustrated with every passing tree. Anger radiates off of them yet they never direct it at me. Instead, Magnus takes the force of it.

They never wanted to search for the encampment to begin with, Magnus pressured them into it. The time they are wasting on my wild chase is his fault. They constantly remind him that the Witch Queen will not be pleased Magnus made an impromptu scavenger hunt against her wishes.

Magnus pales at that reminder but remains firm. He yells at me, clenches his teeth so hard I am surprised they don’t crack, and reaches for his axe menacingly.

“Anything look familiar?” His voice is tight.

I don’t dignify him with a glance. Instead, I move past in another direction. Anything to get them as far away from the Coastal Domain as possible.

“Close,” I murmur under my breath and make a show of trying to concentrate. I pretend to analyze some bark and then pretend to be stumped.

When Magnus makes a move for me, I walk even faster away from him and deeper into the woods. Behind us, the other two Generals hiss furious comments to each other.

We walk for another half hour and my legs begin to burn. I have walked too far without much rest. My head begins to pound from the lack of food and I cannot reach my water with my hands tied.

I close my eyes and will myself forward.

I have led them far enough away. The Coastal Domain is in the opposite direction now and Ryland, even with all his men and the many side roads he’ll have to take, should have a nice head start for it. The Generals are tired from my hunt, they’ll need to make a temporary stop soon. For now, I can pretend to lose the scent and give up my act-

Something tickles at my magic and I tense slightly. In my bid to confuse the others, I’ve reached a magical force of some sort. I will my powers outward and skim the surface of a ward before paling.

The Camp is well hidden by the magical wards in place, but such strong magic leaves a potent trace. It’s hard to hide a spell so strong from magic users. Even my magic, as weak as it is, can detect something in the distance now that the wards have been particularly active as of late-

And if I can detect them-

I risk a glance at Helena to see that she has stopped. Her eyes are pensive as she scans the horizon. I feel her own magic surging outwards, past where mine can touch, and I hold my breath.

Alain and Magnus can’t feel anything amiss, but they stop all the same when they see that Helena has halted.

“What is it?” Magnus whirs on her then at me.

I look away and pretend to be as confused as they are.

“I can’t find it,” I whisper to myself.

Helena moves closer to the direction of the magic and my heart begins to race. It pounds against my ribs so loudly I am shocked the others can’t hear it.

Please, please, please.

“Is the camp nearby?” Magnus marches towards Helena and grabs her arm. He’s fed up with all of us and is desperate to find the Resistance.

Helena ignores him. I feel her magic envelop us, surround the area, and my blood turns cold.

Her magic is strong, she can shatter the wards with a flick of her wrist. Once she finds them, it’s over.

I feel real tears burn in my eyes and my cheek stings as my teeth draw blood.

Please, please don’t let the camp be found.

I sense the arcane powers in the air, sense the wards of the camp, feel when Helena’s magic brushes past it-

And then Helena turns around and clutches her pin in the shape of the Witch Queen’s crown.

“There’s nothing here, this was a waste of time. Lennox just sent out another distress signal.”

She unpins her pin and brandishes it towards Magnus. Magnus reaches for his own and frowns. Their pins are silent and show no sign of any signal coming through. The Generals can communicate with them together, I recall, but there’s usually a light shining in them when they’re active.

“Mine never lit up-“

Alain pulls his own off and eyes it. “Well Helena’s and mine did. Lennox needs us now. Can we give up on your pathetic bid?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on Magnus. Without waiting for a response, he walks back the way we came. Somehow, he has been keeping track of our path.

I stare at Helena almost gaping. Confusion and terror linger on me. My mouth is dry.

She felt the wards, I sensed it. I felt it when she bumped against them. She could have torn them down like paper with just a finger, but she hadn’t.

I have no idea what to make of it and do not have the time to try and process it out. Helena turns towards me sensing my gaze on her and I pointedly look away.

Magnus is livid as he seizes my arm again.

“Fine,” he hisses. He glares at me and I feel dizzy.

There will be hell to pay later, I realize. Once he can get me alone, he will take out all his pent up anger on me. My stomach churns.

“We can still reach the Coastal Domain before the battle if we hurry,” Magnus comments.

I open my mouth to say something then never get the chance to. My foot catches on a twig and I fall. With my hands bound, I cannot stop myself in time.

I land on the ground painfully and cannot find the strength to rise back up. All at once the exhaustion from the journey takes hold and I slump down.

Helena hisses something and Magnus nudges me with his boot. He orders me to stand up, gets frustrated when I don’t, and Alain makes a face.

“She’s passing out,” he remarks.

He is right. Before long, my consciousness fades.

—————

It can’t be more than another half hour before I wake again. I am propped on a tree and Helena sits next to me as she keeps watch. I blink slowly and sit up.

My muscles ache, my head is pounding, and my mouth feels like sandpaper. I groan underneath my breath and find that my hands are looser than before. Some of her magic has been weakened.

“Awake at last,” Helena idly comments. She passes me her water container and I nearly drain it dry.

I am exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. I need hours and hours of sleep.

“Did we move?” I press a hand to my forehead and feel the skin there hot to the touch. Hopefully it’s nothing major.

“Alain carried you some ways away. We’ve been traveling all this time. I made them stop to rest.”

Helena nods at the distance. Alain and Magnus are poured over a map bickering. They haven’t noticed I’m awake.

I try to calculate how much time we have wasted. By now Ryland’s group should be arriving to the Coastal Domain soon. By early morning tomorrow, they’ll regroup with their other Resistance members, and the battle can begin in two days.

Some relief fills me. The Generals are still here and Lennox is still waiting for them before making a move. The Resistance has the upper hand while they remain far away. I have done good in creating a diversion.

“Are you hungry?” Helena fishes in her bag for something. An apple.

A memory of Ryland and his apple game fills me. I eye the fruit and the thought becomes painful. I move away from Helena and clench my jaw.

“Get away from me,” I hiss.

Asides from Magnus, I hate Helena the most. My memories are trapped behind her magic, my finger is gone because of her, and I was kept a prisoner by her own spell. I trust her as far as I can throw her and refuse to take anything she gives me that isn’t water.

Helena, for her part, doesn’t complain. She rises to her feet and sets the apple in front of me.

“I am not your enemy,” she says quietly.

“Could have fooled me,” I retort. I raise my hands to show her the magical binds on them and the nub that used to be my finger.

She winces and looks away. For a moment, something like pain and remorse fills her-

And then it’s gone and a mask falls over her face. She moves her fingers and the magical binds fall away from me.

I stretch my arms apart wearily and eye her suspiciously. She tilts her head to the sky and her jaw is tight.

“I did what I had to do,” she comments. She nudges the apple towards me, “You do not need to trust me or like me. Just keep yourself alive.”

She then spins on her heel and marches towards the others.

—————

I doze off again somehow. I wake up an hour later and Helena is gone along with Magnus. Alain is pacing the perimeter keeping guard. I pretend to still be asleep as he gets closer to me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him murmuring into his pin. The light is shining within it and Helena’s voice carries out like an echo from it. They murmur in hushed voices to each other via the connection and I catch Ryland’s name several times.

I strain my ears to hear something, anything, but Alain is too far away. I then try to inch closer but a twig snaps and Alain turns towards me in a flash.

I barley have time to close my eyes again before he sees me. I wait for a few moments in tense silence praying that he still thinks I’m asleep. Finally, after a long pause, I hear him walk away and open my eyes again.

He’s by a tree and still talking to Helena. I watch as he shakes his head, argues back and forth, then comes to some agreement. Finally, after a long pause, he pins his device back on his armor and moves towards me.

My eyes fall close automatically as he looms near. I hear him approach then sidestep me towards the other side of the perimeter.

He’s taking patrol, I realize, and curl in on myself. Helena and Magnus must be somewhere else scouting something. Running would do me no good. Even if I could outrun Alain, I have no way of knowing where Helena and Magnus are. I may bump into one of them or set off another one of Helena’s traps before making it far.

Frustration fills me and I clench my teeth.

Alain walks towards me headed for the other direction of his patrol. I slump my head on my arms getting ready to sleep again-

And then hear his voice next to my head. He has bent down towards me and is whispering something near my ear.

“Ryland made it to the Coastal Domain. He’s headed West.”

Before I have a chance to process what he said, he’s moving away from me and back towards his patrol as if nothing ever happened.

My eyes snap open and I stare in his wake.

—————

Magnus returns before long with Helena in tow. He tosses Alain a water jug and rouses me from ‘sleep’.

“Up,” he orders.

I comply and pretend like my hands are still bound. Helena has not retied my hands since she freed me.

“We can still travel some more hours. Had we not gone searching for the impossible, we would have been in Lennox’s camp by now,” Alain chastises Magnus.

Magnus ignores him and stares at the distance. His jaw is tight. He sends me a freezing glare and looks away.  

“Had my wife not passed out, we wouldn’t have had to stop,” he comments.

Helena eyes him with frustration but says nothing. She comes to my side and helps me up as if my hands were tied. She makes no effort to use her magic on me again.

Although I tense at her touch, I don’t shrink away. Despite my hatred for them, Helena and Alain have been helping me thus far. I can’t deny them that. Biting the hand that feeds never ends well.

“Should we move now?” Helena asks.

A moment of quiet.

Thanks to Helena’s ever present light, we can move freely in eternal darkness, but that doesn’t mean we can push past exhaustion. Alain looks tired as he leans against a tree, Magnus is perched on a log looking worn down, and Helena herself has dark circles under her eyes.

I managed to fall asleep briefly, but they’ve been busy at work. They need some rest if only just to drink water and catch their breath.

“One hour,” Alain concedes. He gives Helena a look as he sits down and Helena’s eyes narrow. Something passes between them and I can’t read it.

Magnus, oblivious, rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest.

They set up a brief camp.

—————

A fire crackles before long and Alain dozes off. Magnus and Helena are left awake as I cower to one side. After a lull in planning, Magnus orders Helena to get firewood.

I tense at the realization that I will be left alone with him.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears and a part of me thinks of wild flowers. That corner I’ve been receding to all this time, the place I go to disassociate and escape, comes to me in a rush and I squeeze my hands into fists.

Once Helena is gone, what will he do then? I’ve been pushing it this entire time. I provoked him earlier, have been using the other two as shields, and have yet to pay for running away. How will he hurt me once she’s gone? Will I still be alive by the time the Coastal Domain falls to the Resistance?

My hands shake in my lap and my breath comes in a quiet pant. Panic seizes me and I close my eyes tightly. More than anything, I pray that it is over quickly. Let him be done with me quickly. I am out of practice in surviving him.

Helena makes a sound at the back of her throat and I realize she has not moved from her spot.

She looks at me and something dark passes in her eyes so quickly I am almost sure I imagined it. Almost protectively, she inches towards me.

“Lady Vestergaard shall help me then. Two sets of hands can carry more firewood.”

Magnus’ face hardens with anger. “That is unnecessary. I need my wife with me-“

“Come.”

Helena ignores his protests and helps me to my feet. She pushes me in front of her and puts herself between me and Magnus. If he were to try to rush me, he’d have to go through her first.

“Get some rest, General Vestergaard. We have a long battle ahead. I will bring your wife back safe.”

Without any more fanfare, she walks me as far away from Magnus as she can.

—————

I can’t help myself. Once we are out of earshot, I wrap my arms around myself in relief. My teeth grind together and it takes me a moment to compose myself.

“Why did you help me?”

My tone is still cold, poisonous, but Helena ignores the animosity I give her.

She fixes the straps on her swords before answering. Taking her time. When she finally opens her mouth, her voice is quiet.

“It hardly takes a genius to figure out what he was planning. Were Alain and I to leave you alone with him, your end would be tragic.”

I try to keep the fear from my face as my fists tighten at my side. Awful memories flood me one after another, painful experiences that I wish would go away. I have to close my eyes to gather my bearings and try to shove them down as far as I can. Some other day I’ll deal with them, some other day they won’t break me, but today I want nothing to do with them.

If Helena notices my internal conflict, she pretends not to. Instead, she nods at my hand still injured after everything. The pain is ever constant but my magic does a good job at keeping most of it away.

“How much does it hurt?” She inquires. There’s something strange in her eyes as she does so, something flickers there but it’s too fast for me to catch.

At the memory of my finger, anger comes rushing back. Helena is the reason why it is missing. She enchanted Magnus’ ring to keep me locked up. Her magic has kept me a victim all these years.

I am relieved that Alain and Helena have purposefully avoided leaving me with Magnus as much as possible this entire time, from when I passed out to now, but that does nothing to erase everything else. Alain was there when Magnus took me. He could have said something, done something, but he turned his back and walked away. Helena took my memories, my name, and used her magic as my chains. She could have helped me sooner, refused Magnus’ demands, but she always looked away from me whenever I needed help.

My anger flares quickly and I turn away from her and give her my back the way she and Alain have all these years. “What do you care?”

My tone of voice is positively murderous and I hear her wince despite not being able to see her. A small sense of victory lights within me at the knowledge that I was able to hurt her the way she had hurt me.

The feeling does not last, however. Immediately after, guilt floods me like a wave and I clench my jaw tight. Who am I to delight in the misery of someone else? That is something only Magnus does.

A bitter taste fills my mouth and I worry his influence has poisoned me more than I realized. Perhaps I will too one day hurt those around me the way he has-

“I do,” Helena’s voice is quiet next to me and I turn remembering her presence suddenly, “Alain does too.”

I huff and make a face.

“You never cared before. Not when he took me, not when you saw how frightened I was, or when you saw the bruises.”

My fingers move to my neck.

Everyone had seen those bruises on me before, Magnus was never particularly worried in trying to hide them. The Generals had seen them, the Witch Queen had seen them, and the staff at Magnus’ castle had seen them. No one had cared.

What Magnus did to his wife was his business. As long as he did it in the privacy of his own room or away from prying eyes, who would care? What happened in a marriage was private and none felt the need to intervene.

I had attended events with the Generals covered black and blue. I had come with scratches and bite marks too messy to be consensual. I had sported shiners and hand prints along my neck speaking of strangulation and aggression. Helena had seen them. Alain had seen them. Yet none had raised a word in concern.

Helena’s head is down when I turn back to her. Remorse comes off her in waves and she closes her eyes as if the sight of me were too much to bear. Funny how she and Alain have a habit of looking away from me when I needed their attention the most.

“What would we have gained? Were we to raise a concern to Magnus about what he did, what would he have done? Told us to mind our business? Hurt you twice as hard in retaliation for our intervention? We never said anything directly to you, but we tried to help from the shadows. Alain made cutting remarks to Magnus, I hurt him harder during training so that you would not be the only one in pain. I even broke his arm once in a training session just so that he would not be able to raise it against you while it healed. Forgive me if I could not do more.”

Her apology is the last thing I need. A ‘sorry’ does nothing to erase everything that happened. My family is still dead, my mind is still shattered and spread thin between awful memories of pain and misery, and her magic still corrupts parts of me that cannot remember my past…

My missing finger aches with a phantom pain. I clench my jaw.

“You took my memories from me,” I close my eyes as my voice shakes. My heart is pounding in my chest. “Your magic was more painful than anything he did.”

It is a low blow and Helena reacts to it immediately. She looks like she is in agony for a fraction of a second before a cool mask washes over her and she moves away from me. I have no idea if I meant what I said, all I know is that a part of me still delights in hurting her the way she hurt me.

“I had to,” her back is turned to me, “I had to.”

She repeats it as if the words would make a difference.

“Yes, I forgot the part where Magnus held his axe to your head and threatened your life if you did not willingly use your magic-“

Sarcasm spills from my lips and she spins around. Fed up with me, she seizes my arms sharply and forces me to see her. She towers over me and I feel afraid although I try not to show it. The rest of the words die in my throat.

“I had to!” She has to keep herself from screaming it out, “What would have happened to you had I not been the one to do so? Magnus asked the Witch Queen for magic to restrain you! It was his reward for his military talents. She complied and ordered me to provide it. What do you think would have happened to you had I not been the one to do that?”

Realizing my fear, she drops her hands from my arms and takes a step back. Her eyes move away from me and she almost cowers into herself. Her arms come up around herself like a shield and she bites her lip.

“Had I not done it, do you think you would have been allowed to remain without magic? The Witch Queen would have stepped in and hurt us both if I-“

She clenches her jaw as if she has revealed something she should not have. A hand goes to her hair.

Hurt us both.

Her words echo around me and I gape at her. What did that mean? She looks as if she has let out a secret that she would have rather liked to keep hidden.

Still she isn’t done. She pushes past her blunder and keeps going.

“I tried to help you even as I used my magic. The ring Magnus gave you had a warning in it. It would get hot when you got too close to the barrier. That was not for Magnus, that was for you. Magnus wanted it to kill you when you tried to flee. I tried to give you a warning so that you would know what to avoid as you ran. As for your memories…”

She closes her eyes.

“I hid them away with a wall of magic. They are still there just kept at bay with my magic. I was so careful when I charmed you. The human mind is a fragile thing, I treated it with care. I made sure not to harm your memory more than what was necessary. I had to restrain myself from erasing all the painful things he had already done to you but in the end it would not have mattered. He would have done more. I had to be the one to enchant you, don’t you see that?”

I am beginning to but am too stubborn to admit it. My teeth sink into my lower lip again.

Helena is agitated now and wraps her arms around her frame as some form of comfort.

“I had to be the one to enchant you. I was careful, I did everything I could to keep you in one piece. Had I refused, the Witch Queen would have done it herself. She would not have cared to be careful. She would have torn through your mind without a care. Her magic would have torn your memories apart, shredded them one by one until she found the ones Magnus wanted erased, and you would have broken under her. The Witch Queen delights in hurting others. You would be a shell of something had she been the one to do it.”

She turns away from me and looks up at the eternally dark sky.

“I tried hard to atone for it if it makes you feel better,” her voice is quiet, “I made myself memorize every memory I took from you. Committed it to memory so that at least someone would know the truth. You deserved that much.”

“What do you mean?” My fingers rub at my neck in agitation.

Helena turns towards me and her lips are pressed thin.

“I cannot undo all the hurt he has done, but I can make one thing right. Do you wish to know your real name?”

For a moment there is total quiet before us. I shiver in place.

‘Hope’ was a name given to me by Ryland and I appreciate it, but a part of me still longs for my real name. Perhaps it is curiosity more than anything, but I do want to know what my old name was. I close my eyes and steel myself.

“Please,” My voice comes out in a small whisper.

Helena takes a deep breath as if preparing herself to shed some burden. The weights of regret are heavy within her.

“Laelynn, your name was Laelynn.”

—————

When we return, Alain has woken up and Magnus is done resting.

Helena and I set down the firewood as Magnus pours over his map. He measures the distance with his thumb. A scowl breaks through his features.

“We have to move soon. We are close to my lands. From there, it’s another journey.”

Helena has not had time to rest like the other two yet she says nothing as they pack up and begin to move. Magnus leads the way while Helena and Alain hang back with me.

I am still reeling from Helena’s revelation and keep to myself.

I have no idea what to make of the new information, have no idea if the name still fits, and the thought gnaws at me as we walk.

We reach Magnus’ lands and it’s still a little jarring when his barrier washes over me. Still, we cross it through with no problem and keep moving.

The Coastal Domain is midway from our place. Ryland has reached his destination by now according to what Alain said earlier. That means they are behind schedule. Magnus’ ego in trying to find the encampment has delayed them. A part of me feels like smirking.

By now the Resistance must have made camp in the Coast and is planning out their next move. They are leagues ahead of the Witch Queen’s forces who are still missing three Generals.

We walk in silence for an hour or two, hard to tell in the darkness, and Alain stops. He approaches Magnus and they talk together while pausing.

I eye Helena who lowers her voice.

“A break again. Listen closely.”

I strain my hearing and pick up what sounds like a river nearby. Helena lifts up her water canteen and shakes to show me how little is in there. If we are to make the full trip to the Coast, water is needed.

Magnus orders me to stay put before he and Alain take our water cans and disappear amidst the trees. Helena crosses her arms in front of herself and sits down on the ground. She looks exhausted but is still pressing on.

The Generals are not using horses to travel, their forces must have taken the animals with them when they departed separately to the front lines. They’ll need their horses well rested for the upcoming battle.

“You haven’t slept,” I remark.

Helena shrugs. “I have survived worse.”

She sounds bitter and leans her head against the base of the tree. Her eyes close and I wonder if she has dozed off before she opens them again and talks.  

“Do you know where we are?” She scans our surroundings.

I don’t but I am sure we are closer to the Coastal Domain. We passed Magnus’ barrier and kept traveling for a while. We probably passed his castle some time ago which means we are heading for the Coast. If we were to follow West as we have already, the Coast will not be far.

“Just follow West?” I muse.

Helena stands and her face is serious. “Yes, just follow West.”

She glances behind her but Magnus and Alain have not returned. Moving quickly, she drops her voice low and grabs my arm. Her eyes are serious.

“Ryland arrived to the Coast while you were asleep. He and Caligo split off in halves and surrounded Lennox’s lands. No one is moving yet, the battle won’t start for another day and a half, but everyone is already in position. If you move West, you could get there soon too and reach their encampment. You would just need to dodge my magic wards. Wherever the wards are, Lennox’s men are nearby.”

I blink at her once, twice. Her words slowly begin to make sense.

“Travel? Alone?”

I risk a glance around us but there is nothing. Alain and Magnus are still gone.

Helena begins to lead me West. Her voice is still low.

“Magnus has bigger fish to fry. If you were to run now, you could make it far. Alain and I would distract him.”

I swallow. “You would let me go? Just like that?”

My pulse begins to quicken. Please, please, please.

Helena closes her eyes tightly.

“Whatever you think of us, we are tired of this war. The Witch Queen won years ago yet her mind is gone. She spends her days screaming accusations of treason and using her magic to hurt those around her. The Capital is in shambles. Alain and I are tired of serving someone who can never be saved.”

“If I run, you will be delayed more. Ryland and Caligo are already there. You would have to humor Magnus by trying to find me.”

Helena’s lips quirk up in a bitter smile. She runs a hand through her hair messing the blonde strands. “Like I said, Alain and I have grown tired of the war.”

Her words finally click in my mind and a prickle of shock overtakes me.

Helena had felt the wards protecting the Resistance before yet hadn’t made a move. She had purposefully made it seem like she hadn’t spotted anything then lied about Lennox’s message. Alain had corroborated her lie.

Alain had stayed with me while I slept rather than leave me with Magnus and had taken the time to tell me that Ryland had made it safe. He had to have had eyes on him through a spy network, yet he made no orders to attack him.

Plus, Helena and Alain had sent their forces ahead of them knowing fully well they would not be able to act against the Resistance without them there. They had allowed Magnus to go on a wild chase finding the Resistance and had not tried to stop me from leading them in circles.

My breath hitches in my throat. Everything suddenly makes sense and I have to resist the urge to laugh.

I press a hand to my mouth and close my eyes.

What a fitting development. The two most loyal Generals of the Witch Queen have purposefully been delaying the battle.

“Go now, Laelynn,” Helena urges and she does not wait for me to leave before turning away, “Run far.”

I hesitate wondering if I should thank her, open my mouth to do so, but no words come out. Despite her help, a part of me can never thank someone who stood by idly as I was broken for years.

Helena bows her head like she understands and turns her back towards me. She slumps against the base of the tree and leans her head back as if she has lost consciousness. A ruse for Magnus.

I give her one last look before turning and running away.

—————

My sides burn as I run and exhaustion drags my limbs. I skirt trees and dive between bushes. I have nothing on me for travel and hope that I can at least make it to the encampment by today.

I risk a few glances behind me and can hear activity. By now, Magnus has certainly returned to find me missing. I can hear distant calls for me to return. His rage is almost palpable.

I hope Helena can lead him astray and keep him occupied for a while. I hope she meant wanting to help me.

I dodge a low branch and my sides ache. My breath comes out in rapid pants, yet I know I cannot take a moment to pause.

Around me, there is some movement around the trees. The Generals have split up in their attempts to find me. I desperately hope Magnus is far away.

Helena said to follow West. I do not have a compass with me but she aimed me West when I left. I am still facing it surely.

I run more and hear something nearby. A curse threatens to spill past my lips but I press a hand to my mouth to muffle it. I crouch near a tree just as Alain emerges from the tree line.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. None of us move and my heart begins to race. Helena tried to help me but that does not mean Alain will too. I pause waiting.

Finally, Alain moves silently and I tense. I wait for him to turn me in to Magnus or yell for Magnus to come for me, but he never does. Instead, he hands me a water canteen silently before turning his back on me. He goes back the opposite direction I am headed in without another word.

My breath comes out in a quiet rush with relief.  I take a moment to compose myself.

Once upon a time, Alain had turned his back on me when Magnus had taken me from my family. Now he turns his back again this time to give me a chance to run.

I don’t let the chance he gave me go to waste. Preparing myself again, I take off running. This time, I don’t stop.

—————

Running has never been my strong suit but adrenaline keeps me going. I run until I am sure Magnus is too far to present an actual challenge for me using a small fireball in my hand as a guide through the dark. Once I am certain I am far enough away, I slow down to a walk and take measured sips of water.

I don’t have a map to guide me, am just following West directly, but I do somewhat remember the way now that I have traveled for a while.  

Magnus used to take me to the Coastal Domain with him whenever the Generals held meetings. Sometimes he made me walk while he rode on his horse. A cruelty that now I am grateful for. When I was forced to walk the path to the Coast, I was able to pick up on the route.

Now, I begin to recognize it. I recognize the road I arrive to after another hour of travel and know that if I just follow it, I will arrive to the Coastal Domain.

When I risk a glance behind me, I don’t hear or see of the Generals. It seems Helena has kept her promise and delayed Magnus enough to give me a head start.

I bite the inside of my cheek and press on. My legs burn with the effort, my hands shake from hunger, and my head is pounding from the lack of sleep, but I have survived worse. I press on and tell myself that I will be safe if I reach the Resistance. I was an idiot to have left the encampment before, and now I have to atone for it.

Just when I think I cannot possibly walk any more, the ground underneath me goes from dirt to sand. I bend down and pick up a handful of it letting it fall through my fingers. My heart aches to realize that I have reached the Coastal Domain.

I grew up in this Domain before Magnus arrived. I used to run around the sand with my brother playing and enjoying life. We would take a boat and ride across the coast fishing for fun challenging each other to see who could capture the biggest fish. Other times, we would curl up in the sand with a campfire listening to the sounds of the mermaids singing just comfortable being with each other the way only siblings could.

A part of me longs to be back home and I feel my eyes begin to sting. Another part of me, however, no longer feels like she belongs here.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, just one to compose myself, then straighten myself back out.

My magic spreads out from where I am and I can sense some of Helena’s wards nearby. She told me to avoid them because they meant Lennox’s men were nearby.

I pause and think.

Alain said Ryland had headed West once he had reached the Coastal Domain. Helena’s wards are spread out in one direction and there aren’t many in the other. I bite the inside of my cheek and turn in the direction where the wards are least prominent. That must be West.

Stealing myself, I continue on my path even though my legs begin to shake.

—————

Walking through sand is much harder than walking on dirt. I grow tired more quickly and have to take more breaks. Each time, I am keenly aware that the Coastal Domain is to be the site of a battle. I pause at every sound and feel utterly exposed as I move.

Helena’s wards are easy to avoid once I can detect them, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other dangers. There are still soldiers of the Witch Queen in this Domain. Any one of them could spot me and raise the alarm. Asides from them, a fairy might spot me too and turn me in. While no one likes the Witch Queen’s rule, they are too afraid to challenge it. People will turn in neighbors and family to her if it means they get to escape her ire an extra day.

I travel some more until I sense a shift in the arcane atmosphere. Helena’s traps have a distinct quality that I can easily pick up, but they are not the only magic here. Past the edges of my vision, I can detect something powerful humming in the air. It reminds me of the wards protecting the Resistance from view.

A flicker of hope ignites in me and I travel faster where I can pick up the magic.

It becomes stronger once I get closer. My eyes cannot detect anything different, the landscape looks the same, but my magic senses protective wards all around me. I raise my hand to feel the area.

Finally, my hand presses up against something solid and powerful. I feel courses of magic buzzing underneath my skin and I close my eyes. The wards are strong and I am tired. I can’t collapse them the way I did at the Resistance’s Camp, but I can disturb them.

I trace the same symbols I did at the last camp but don’t take the wards down. Instead, I just let my magic seep into them.

If Solaire or Caligo built these wards, they will feel a disturbance soon. It is just a matter of time.

—————

True to my prediction, I sense a shift in the wards. Near me, one of the wards comes down and someone emerges. Their weapon is raised and I recognize who they are in the dim lighting my hand can provide.

Caligo.

A wave of utter relief washes over me and the stress I’ve felt this entire time makes my knees weak.

“Hope?” Caligo openly gapes at me and lowers his sword. He rushes for me and I meet him halfway.

I swing my arms around his neck in relief and he holds me steady. My mind is spinning and exhaustion makes me sink to the ground.

“Hey! Hey! You alright?” Caligo is the only thing holding me upright. “What are you doing here?”

I feel darkness surrounding me and fall back.

“It’s a really long story.”

I never get the chance to say it. My eyes roll back and I pass out in his arms.

—————

A sound wakes me up moments later. I blink up and find myself in a tent of some sort. Someone is sitting at my side. When they see my eyes open, a quiet breath leaves their lips.

“Hope?” Solaire peers down at me with immense relief.

I sit up quickly and feel dizzy. Solaire pushes me gently back down.

My head is killing me and my mouth tastes like cotton. I press a hand to my throbbing temple and take stock of where I am. I am in a tent of some sort tucked in a sleeping roll. Around us, is the quiet murmur of voices. The Resistance.

“What happened?” I ask weakly.

Solaire huffs and I see she is upset. She is frowning down at me and looks exasperated.

“I should ask you that!”

She jerks a letter at me and I recognize the one I had stashed in her stuff.

“Are you crazy?” Her voice rises in tone, “What were you thinking?!”

She cuts herself off and crumples the letter in a tight ball. Her hands press to her eyelids and I can see her try to reign in her anger. Her shoulders shake with the effort.

Guilt gnaws at me and I look away. The letter must have frightened her. I put her through needless worry with my stupidity.

Once Solaire has calmed down she sinks to her knees and sits next to me. Her arms encircle her knees and she looks away from me. I can still see how angry she is, but she keeps her voice at a steady level.

“I found the letter in one of our stops. I showed it to Caligo and then we felt the wards open. We were worried General Klein had found us but we never heard any reports of an attack. We figured you had escaped.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and takes another breath. Her hands shake from either anger or fear. At this point, I can’t tell.

“We had to keep moving. I wanted to rush back and find you because we heard reports that the Generals were still in the area but we could not waste time. You should have seen Ryland. He was distraught. We were so worried something would happen to you. What were you thinking?” She glares at me and her jaw is tight. A sound of anger leaves her lips and she tosses the letter away from her, “If you were not injured I would curse you!”

I stare down at my hands and the weight of everything comes crashing down all at once. My eyes sting and I bite hard on my cheek.

What was I thinking? Did I not realize the danger I was putting myself in? Or the danger I put the camp in? Had I really let a pair of scheming council members rattle me that much?

Helena protected the Resistance by surprise, but that was never guaranteed. She could have very easily torn the wards down and killed everyone there. I not only put my life at risk but I also threatened every person there.

My throat burns and suddenly Solaire’s arms are around me. There is something entirely sisterly about her embrace and I sink into her. Some tears run down and she wipes them with her thumb.

We sit there quietly for half a second before she buries her face in my hair and speaks.

“I am very angry at you, Hope, I can hardly look at you, but I am very relieved you are safe-“

Her voice cuts off and she stops talking. I can feel her heart racing in utter fear.

Fear for me.

“I am sorry,” I murmur.

It’s a weak apology, a ‘sorry’ can’t erase everything I put her through, but I can think of nothing more to say.

Finally Solaire moves away and pushes a strand of my hair back. For the first time, I can see that there is dirt all over me.

I wince and realize how I must have frightened her and Caligo. To have arrived covered in dirt, frightened and tired, then to pass out in his arms? No wonder Solaire was furious.

“Tell me what happened before I change my mind about cursing you,” Solaire orders.

I close my eyes and do so.

—————

Having been summoned, Caligo arrives and listens to me recount my story. His good eye narrows pensively and he presses a thumb to his lip. Solaire runs a hand through her own hair.

“We need to send a Rider to the camp and tell them to fall away,” Caligo announces, “If General Klein knows where we are located, everyone is in danger. She may have hidden our location briefly but that does not mean she is trustworthy.”

I do not argue. Helena might have helped me escape and might have said she and Alain were tired of war, but they have been enemy soldiers for as long as the war has been fought. She may have pitied me, but she could have lied about everything else. The camp is in danger every moment it remains there.

Solaire rises to her feet. She dusts herself off.

“What about Klein and Richter? Can we trust that they no longer want to fight?”

Caligo makes a sound. “Hardly. Richter is the Witch Queen’s loyal shadow. He would die for her and destroy the world on her command. Klein is in the same boat. To have two of her most loyal Generals turn away from her…it is too good to be true.”

Caligo digs into his pocket and fishes out a letter. He hands it to Solaire. A spy missive.

“My network spotted Magnus not long ago. He just arrived to the Coastal Domain and is regrouping with Lennox. We have to prepare for battle.”

Solaire glances at me as she reads over the report. “Ryland is not here, Hope. We split off our forces before you arrived. He headed further out with his group of men. We cannot risk taking you there now. We need to get our forces in line. The battle will start before we know it.”

“I will write a letter to Ryland telling him that you are here and then go out to infiltrate the Witch Queen’s forces pretending to be one of their soldiers. Let me bring you something to eat, Hope.”

Solaire gives me no time to answer before she disappears out the tent flap. Caligo moves to let her pass then takes a seat next to me.

Like Solaire, he is upset. I wait for the lecture that is sure to come but he does not scold me. Instead, he leans back on his arms and closes his eyes.

“You look like a mess,” he muses. His fingers move a leaf out of my hair.

I wince and am keenly aware of how my clothes are ripped and of the sand that clings to my skin. I am in desperate need of a bath and a change of clothes. I must look like some monster risen from the dirt.

“I bet,” I comment.

Caligo moves away from me. There is a wall between us and I distinctly remember the unpleasant encounter we had before he departed for the battle. Things are still awkward between the two of us and it seems like he does not know what to do.

He clears his throat and fiddles with the strap of his eyepatch. “I can find you something to wear. Solaire can bring you some water to clean up before she leaves. Ryland may not be here but you can still count on us for help.”

He moves away from me and crosses to the tent flap. Just when he is about to leave, he changes his mind and turns around. His eye stares at me and his jaw tightens.

“And I mean that, Hope. You can count on us for help. You do not have to run from us because you are afraid.”

There is a tense silence between us and I clear my throat. He may be better at hiding his anger than Solaire but I know he is also furious. I frightened him when I left and nearly scared him to death when I showed up at his camp only to pass out in his arms.

“I am sorry,” I murmur. There is no other answer I can provide.

Caligo tightens his jaw, decides against saying anything else, then spins on his heel and walks away.

—————

I wash most of the dirt and sand from myself that I can and go about fixing my hair. Solaire brought me a new change of clothes that fit too big on me, but it is a relief to be able to strip out of the muddied clothing I had been wearing. She also brought me a plate of food and I pecked at it just enough to stave off the hunger. An old habit, I cannot bring myself to eat even at the prospect of death.

Caligo has not returned since he left and Solaire tells me he is talking strategy with his troops. The battle is on the horizon and they are making last minute preparations.

Lennox’s forces are spread out and the Generals hold meetings in their own camp. The Witch Queen is in the Capital, has not bothered to show up to what she believes will be an easy victory, leaving only Lennox, Alain, Helena, and Magnus to defend the Coast. Their forces are matched evenly with ours and it is a coin toss to see who will take the Coast.

This is a major battle from what I can gather. While the Resistance has always fought to liberate villages and towns, this is the first time they have fought to free an entire Domain. There are a million ways everything can go wrong and only one way it can go right.

I pace the length of the tent and wish I could say goodbye to Ryland before he leaves for the front lines. Unfortunately, he has already mobilized with his men. He is at the center of the battlefield waiting only for Caligo to bring his own forces before launching the first attack.

Solaire hugs me before leaving. Wearing the Witch Queen’s teals, she has another job to do. While Caligo and Ryland will fight directly, she and other spies are infiltrating the Witch Queen’s men. They will sow chaos from within their ranks.

Left alone, I leave the tent I was in and emerge in the Resistance’s camp. This one is tiny, nothing compared to the other camp, and only able bodied warriors are here. I spot Caligo and Bayard in the distance discussing the last of the battle plans.

When they see me emerge, they stop. Caligo beckons me forward and Bayard peers at me curiously.

“Hope will have to remain behind while we fight, she is in no state to join a battle,” Caligo states.

I join him at his side as Bayard nods. As a Council Member, he has authority over battle plans. He hums under his breath.

“I will be staying behind keeping watch from an altitude. I can take her with me and keep her safe. You just focus on liberating the Domain,” Bayard says.

Caligo thanks him then turns to me.

“Stay with Bayard. He may be an old bag of bones but he is a good man,” the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk.

Bayard huffs and mutters something about Caligo being much older than him under his breath but nods. He extends a hand towards me. I take it silently and realize he is much stronger than he lets on.

Bayard is older and sports a bad leg, but he is still the father of August Falke. August was one of Reiner’s best fighters and had even inherited the Resistance from him before dying. His might is legendary. I have no doubt Bayard is every bit as strong as his son was. At his side, I will be safe.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Bayard rolls up the map and hands it to Caligo. “I will be away from the camp with Miss Hope. We will overlook the battle while you fight. Make us proud.”

Bayard beckons me towards him and Caligo presses a hand to my shoulder in a farewell. He smiles at me in a way that serves to soothe me. Someone as strong as Caligo will not fall tonight. I have to remind myself of that.

“See you soon, Hope.”

Caligo waves and disappears.

I stare at his back and take a deep breath. Caligo, Solaire, and Ryland will be fine. I repeat it like a mantra in my head and tell myself I will believe it.

—————

Bayard leads me far away from the camp and we trek over a large hill. When we reach the top, he stops and points in the distance where I can see a fire in the darkness.

“See that? That is Lennox’s camp. They do not use protective wards to hide themselves from view the way we do. They have no need to. The Domain is theirs and they are arrogant to the point of believing they are invincible.”

“Where is the battle taking place?” I wrap my arms around myself in anxiety.

Bayard nods in another direction. In the darkness, it is impossible to make anything out. I strain my eyes but cannot see anything.

“Over there somewhere, our forces are getting ready. Ryland’s men and Caligo’s men will meet and group together. There will be a signal, a fire will be lit, and then the battle will begin. They will rush Lennox’s camp and begin the invasion. We cannot see anything now, but when the battle begins they will light the area. Soldiers can hardly fight in the dark.”

I nod and bite my lip. Somewhere down below are my friends. I want to desperately believe that they are okay.

“What do you do here then?” I ask.

“I am too old to fight and this leg of mine would make me an easy target. It took me a long time but I finally accepted that fact. Now, I am a lookout. I oversee the battles and take call for a retreat if I see they are not going well for our forces. My job is to keep our men safe.”

He nudges a parcel strapped to his side. When he opens it, he pulls out a war horn.

“The horn?” I muse.

War horns were used to call for retreats or send signals to the soldiers down below.

Bayard holds it in his arms.

“One long blow means either the battle has just begun or it is time to retreat. Two sharp blows and it means that our reinforcements are arriving. Three short blows in quick succession and it means that the enemy is closing in on our men so they have to move away and regroup. I am the eyes for the Resistance in battle.”

He pulls out another tool from his bag and hands it over to me. A spyglass that looks like it has seen better days.

“Look in that direction,” he points towards the fire.

I raise the spyglass up to my eye and see a line of soldiers gathered by the fire. From this far away, even with the spyglass, I can’t see anything productive, but I can make out their uniforms. The teals of the soldiers have a capital crest on their chest plate. They are Alain’s soldiers.

“Capital soldiers means Richter commands them. Look over there.”

I follow Bayard’s finger to another location near the fire where Dwarven soldiers in teals file in a line.

“Dwarves means Klein is in control. Next to them are Arnold’s cultists and further behind are Vestergaard’s men,” Bayard points to each group in turn.

It seems like this battle will only involve four Generals. Jinhai and Yovith have not sent their men to help Lennox and the Witch Queen hasn’t bothered to send aid either. They do not actually see tonight as a threat. They think Ryland is weakened from the men they killed. After all, they thought the Resistance would die out if they executed the men they captured. They have sorely underestimated the Resistance and I hope that serves them well.

“Four Generals, four different commands of troops but they do not have more forces than we do. Klein, Richter, and Vestergaard only sent the bare minimum that they could get away with. They do not care to save Arnold,” Bayard states. I hand the spyglass back to him.

“They think it will be easy to push them back. The Resistance has never done an invasion on this scale before. They think Ryland and Caligo are just here for a few villages?” I turn to Bayard.

He is looking out the spyglass now and nodding.

“The Witch Queen has always underestimated us. Even when she knew we were a threat, even when the Captains defeated her, she never believed we were a true force. In her mind, she will always be victorious and we will surrender at her feet. She has not come tonight and has not given a direct order for her Generals to come either. If Vestergaard, Klein, and Richter are here, it was because they decided to send men. The other two Generals stayed in their domains and could not care less what happens.”

Bayard motions for me to sit and I do. He struggles to kneel with his injured leg and I wonder if he had the injury from before the war or if he sustained it during it. He looks in the direction where the Resistance is hiding and purses his lips.

“What now?” I ask.

Bayard takes a moment to answer. He sighs and his age shows when he looks exhausted.

“Now comes the worst part. We wait.”

—————

Another hour or two passes. I spend the time recalling stories with Bayard. He tells me about his son, August, and his daughters. He’s a family man, had a beautiful family, and owned several inns back before the war. There is sadness in his tales, he misses his son terribly and wishes that the Witch Queen will pay for his death, but his grief has not broken him. He has dedicated himself to the Resistance and risen above the ranks quickly. He took the role of Council member in order to spread good and oversee the Resistance.

When the topic of the Council emerges, Bayard is quick to soothe my fears. There may be conflict brewing between the Council and the Captains, but he assures me nothing will come out of it. Once Ryland and Caligo win the Coastal Domain, the Resistance will back them up. Whichever Council members are upset will be silenced by the Resistance’s gratefulness to the Captains that led them in victory.

During our conversation, one thing remains clear. He looks up to Caligo and Ryland, they remind him of the late Lord Wolfson and his son, and he believes in the cause more than anything. He claims that evil will never triumph and that the Witch Queen will fall as all tyrants do.

There is something fatherly in him and I ache for the memories of my own father. Helena did not remove her magic from my memory, I can still only access the bare minimum, and the thought fills me with grief. To mourn your family is pain enough, but to mourn a family you barely remember is worse still.

After hours of conversation, Bayard sits up suddenly. I follow his gaze and see a spark flare up towards the sky on the side of the Resistance.

A breath hitches on my throat. That is the signal.

Bayard pulls out his horn and blows it hard. One long blow. The battle is beginning.

In moments the space beneath us is lit up by magic. While the atmosphere is dark, the land is illuminated by spells from faeries. I squint and see members of the Resistance in their reds rush towards members of teal.

The Generals have formed a line with their troops and they meet the Resistance face to face. Even from our location, we can hear the clashing of hundreds of swords.

I clutch my neck in anxiety and pray to whatever gods are out there to keep the Resistance safe.

Bayard keeps his eyes glued to the battle. He surveys the scene with a spyglass.

“Vestergaard’s troops are taking the lead. The cultists branch off to fight the Resistance on their own.”

He takes quick notes down on a piece of parchment. They are war notes, I realize. They will be used to analyze the enemy later on and to strategize future attacks.

Without a spyglass of my own, I see only blurs of color. Reds and blues. They clash and bump into each other over and over again. I hold my breath the longer it plays out.

There is no way to know which side is doing better. Do our forces have the upper hand or are they falling? Are my friends still alive down below or will they be commemorated in the next ceremony?

I shuffle in place and dig my nails into my throat. Bayard points to something in the distance. I follow his gaze to see the Resistance’s reds split in half. They break off quickly and move in opposite directions.

“A pincer formation. The Captains are breaking off. They will divide the enemy troops and try to corral them in.”

They move quickly and I squint. For a moment, it looks like the Resistance has the upper hand because they press in on the sea of teals and usher them tightly together-

But then the teals break off into sections and outmaneuver them. Bayard swears under his breath as a purple fireball rises up in the sky and the Witch Queen’s army sections off.

“Looks like Klein caught on to their plan. The Generals are breaking off now too. They will each fight a section of the Resistance.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Bayard presses his lips together.

“Richter and Arnold fighting Caligo’s men while Klein and Vestergaard take on Ryland’s men. It’s two separate battlefields on the same battle ground,” he explains.

Ryland and Magnus fighting each other off. I grind my teeth together. The thought of Ryland facing off Magnus directly is terrifying. I know what Magnus can do, he is the General with the most war experience, and I worry. I know Ryland is a legendary figure in the Resistance, but I know firsthand what a dangerous man Magnus Vestergaard is.

Bayard places a hand on my back and shakes his head. His eyes are sympathetic.

“Have faith in the Resistance, here.”

I take the spyglass from him and aim it in the direction he points. It is impossible to make out specific faces in the battle, but I can see how Magnus’ troops are being beat down by the Resistance.

Helena’s troops hang back and let Magnus take the lead. I cannot see Helena either but I can see her magic firing off in different colors around the Resistance. Helena, a legendary spell caster, seems out of her element tonight. Her spells miss the Resistance by inches.

I pass the spyglass back to Bayard. He aims it near Caligo’s forces to see how they are faring. The corner of his lips moves up.

“Hawkeye is fighting off Arnold’s cultists. Richter‘s men are regrouping,” he announces.

The battle continues split off into separate sections. So this is how the Resistance fights. Each Captain takes the helm.

Caligo is in charge of a spy network but even he is a great leader. Bayard points out how his men are driving a wedge separating their opponents in half. Ryland does the same on his end of the battle.

At some point, I drift my eyes towards Magnus and Helena’s forces. There is some commotion from down below and I see the teal army scramble. Where they had once been perfectly aligned, they are now broken. Has Ryland cut through their file?

Bayard rises suddenly and aims his spyglass over to Ryland.

“What is that?” He asks. He sounds alarmed and confused.

“What is it?” I ask. My stomach turns cold.

The teal army is scattering and the red army is frozen in place. I can hear sounds of a commotion as the soldiers scramble in utter confusion.

“I-“ Bayard hands me the spyglass, “There is something happening on the Witch Queen’s side of the battle. Klein’s soldiers are in disarray. They broke off formation and threw off Vestergaard’s men. It is chaos down below on their ranks.”

I aim the spyglass towards the teal army.

Sure enough, it is like Bayard said. Helena’s army of dwarves have broken off formation and are in a state of chaos. They seem to have conflicting orders, do not know what they are meant to do, and Helena does not raise fireballs to direct them. The human soldiers belonging to Magnus are still on their file but they are alone as Helena’s men refuse to help. Something has confused them down below and the fight is quickly turning to Ryland’s favor.

The Resistance takes advantage of the chaos and splits off Helena and Magnus’ troops completely. They corral them together and soon the blue army falls a part.

My breath hitches in my throat as Bayard let’s out a sigh of relief. Ryland has won his half of the battle.

Just as we turn our attention to Caligo, the same confusion happens on his side of the warfront.

The cultists and Alain’s men split off into opposing sides and Alain’s men fall apart. Where once his Capital soldiers were the most arrayed and efficient, they now scramble and branch off into confusing arrays. Squadrons collide with other squadrons and I hear the commotion on their end. They are lost and have no idea what to do. Whatever happened to Helena’s men has happened to Alain’s as well.

“What is it? Did Solaire’s spies confuse the army that much?” I turn to Bayard.

Bayard shakes his head and pays rapt attention to the chaos down below.

“No! Solaire and Caligo’s spies are valuable in battles, but there’s few of them there. They could never have toppled an entire file the way whatever else did tonight. Klein and Richter’s men are in complete panic. They are confusing Arnold’s and Vestergaard’s forces,” Bayard replies.

I hand the spyglass back to Bayard. Soon enough, the red army belonging to Caligo similarly surrounds the scattered teal army.

For a moment, the battlefield is two separate rings of blue with a red outline, but then a war horn sounds from somewhere else. One long burst calling a retreat of the Witch Queen’s forces.

I see the men belonging to Lennox and Magnus immediately scatter but Helena and Alain’s men are still trapped. They seem to have no leadership and are clueless as to what to do.

In the end, it does not matter.

My breath leaves out in one long breath and I sink to my knees. Bayard begins to laugh and clasps his hand together in prayer. He calls out his son’s name and turns to me. His eyes are alight with joy.

“They did it! They freed the Coastal Domain!”

—————

We descend the hill and find Caligo’s men heading our way. The men are injured and their numbers are smaller than when they first set off, but tonight is a major victory. They cheer and embrace each other.

“Captain Hawkeye!” Rings out a single shout and then the men begin to chant it in unison.

Caligo emerges from somewhere near his men and Bayard rushes towards him. They clap each other on the back.

Caligo is bloodied and bruised but he is smiling. He grabs Bayard by the shoulders and his eye is alight with pure surprise.

“You should have seen it, Bayard! Richter’s men fell completely apart! They broke off file and had no idea what to do. Then Lennox’s men got confused and broke off too. Lennox tried to call out orders but it was too late. Their army was in shambles so they called out a retreat.”

He lets out a breathless laugh and twirls around Bayard. He comes towards me and similarly wraps me in a hug. I tense in his embrace yet am relieved he is safe. He lets me go after a few moments and whatever awkwardness was between us evaporates.

He is in high spirits and rushes towards his men to congratulate them too.

Somewhere further away, the other half of the Resistance is cheering. Ryland’s men.

“What happened down here? We saw the confusion,” Bayard says.

One of the Resistance soldiers shakes his head.

“I have no idea, Councilor. General Richter took off in the middle of the battle and his men fell apart. He abandoned them and left Lennox behind,” he voices out.

Bayard and I exchange looks.

Another section of the Resistance comes towards us. Ryland’s men are regrouping.

Like Caligo’s men, they are diminished in number and are wounded, but they are still overjoyed. They embrace Caligo’s men and cheer Ryland’s name.

Solaire emerges from one side and rushes at me in a hug. She laughs and then joins Caligo and Bayard.

“It was chaos! Klein’s men fell apart in the middle of the battle. Magnus tried to get them back in formation but they weren’t listening. His forces began to fight each other. Klein’s men turned on Magnus’ men and Helena took off. She left Magnus in the middle of the battle and disappeared somewhere,” Solaire breathes out.

I tense in place. My breath comes out in a quiet gasp.

Helena and Alain.

I remember what Helena told me, that she and Alain were sick of war, and wonder if this was their plan all along. Had they purposefully delayed the march for as long as possible only to plan to desert their military and throw the battle in our favor? Have they escaped today done with the Witch Queen and her war?

“Klein and Richter deserters? I think the world is about to spin out of orbit,” Bayard remarks.

Caligo shakes his head. “They were there when our men were executed. Ryland said they looked like they were still fiercely loyal.”

I shake my head and remember the day the captured Resistance members had been walked on a platform. Helena and Alain had been there with the Witch Queen, but being present and being loyal were different things.

Ryland had mentioned something in his speech, about how the people gathered there for that execution were only there because they were fearful they were next if they angered the Witch Queen. Perhaps, without knowing it at the time, Ryland had also hinted at Helena and Alain. Maybe they were only there because they needed to be.

Regardless, I do not give myself time to think. I spin around to where Ryland’s men are coming from and push my way through the crowd. I search for Ryland and weave through soldiers.

My heart beats in my rib cage and I hear my name shouted from somewhere deep in the file.

Ryland.

I hear his voice before I see him and pick up the pace. His own name spills from my lips and one of his soldiers points in one direction. I follow his finger and find Ryland.

For a moment the world seems to slow down and then I take off running. He meets me half way and picks me up. Like a fairytale prince, he picks me up by the waist and spins me around.

Laughter bubbles out of my throat, a pure genuine sound I haven’t heard in a long, long time, and I cling to his neck.

He smells like blood and sweat but I do not care. I bury my face in his neck as he sets me down.

“You did it,” I breathe out.

Over his shoulder, I can see the Resistance cheering and embracing.

Ryland laughs and holds me tighter. “We did it.”

—————

The Coastal Domain comes alive with lights. The Resistance Members use their fairy lights to light the way. Caligo emerges from somewhere and rushes at us. Solaire is hot at his heels with a breathless laugh.

They collide with us and join our hug. It turns into a group hug with Solaire at my back and Caligo at Ryland’s.

“The Coastal Domain is free,” Caligo cheers. He jumps in his excitement and almost knocks Ryland over.

Just as he said, the Coastal Domain is free. The Witch Queen’s forces have retreated out of the Domain. Missing two of their star Generals, there will be utter confusion which will prevent them from retaking the domain for a long time. For now, the Coast belongs to the Resistance.

The Witch Queen has ownership of the other Domains still, but we have taken one back and have taken two of her Generals from her. The Resistance is one step closer to winning the war.

Solaire hugs me tighter then lets go. Caligo follows suit and Ryland releases me from his embrace but keeps an arm around my waist. His touch is questioning, almost asking if it is alright, and I lean closer into him in reply.

We look over towards the Resistance to see that the Coastal Domain is coming back to life. Whereas the fairies and mermaids had been hiding when the Resistance arrived, terrified of Lennox’s men, they now emerge and celebrate. They are liberated.

Solaire grins. “One Domain in. The Witch Queen still owns the other ones.”

Ryland smiles and the sight makes my heart race. He surveys his men and there is pride in his gaze. The legendary member of the Resistance believes in his forces like no other. He never doubted they would win for a second.

“We’ll free them too. Her reign will end.”

Ryland sounds absolutely sure as he says this and the conviction in his voice makes me believe it too.

The Witch Queen may own the other Domains, but the Resistance will prevail. For the first time in my life, I believe in it as strongly as I believe in Ryland.

—————

Days later, the Coastal Domain is free of the Witch Queen. Lennox has fled to the Capital having lost his Domain and the Resistance has turned it into their stronghold. Caligo’s spy networks confirm that Helena and Alain have truly deserted the Witch Queen. Their whereabouts are unknown, but the Resistance is unconcerned.

The old camp that belonged to the Resistance stayed true to its name and fell away at a moment’s notice. The people within moved to different camps or came to the Coastal Domain.

The Council wastes no time holding a meeting days later. There are loose ends to tie and more things to plan for.

I watch as Ryland, Caligo, and Solaire enter the Main Tent for the meeting. As a non-council member, I am not allowed in.

I pace the length of the sand nervously.

The Dwarven and Elven Council Members wanted to overthrow Ryland and Caligo before I left. Have they changed their minds yet? Has taking back an entire Domain soothed their fears?

I can only hope Bayard and Caligo were right when they each said not to worry.

At some point in the night, one of the Resistance Riders arrives with a letter. Riders are messengers traveling from camp to camp passing messages. As of late, they have been sending the Captains more and more missives in preparation for the next steps.

I almost dismiss this new Rider as yet another letter asking about the Coastal Domain until a fairy light illuminates his attire.

He is not dressed in the reds of the Resistance. Instead, he wears a green overcoat that looks like it came from another Domain. He moves his head and elven ears shine in the light. A gold crest is emblazoned on his horse’s bridle and he walks towards the Main Tent with a letter in his hand.

I frown in confusion as Ryland emerges from the Main Tent to accept the letter. He quickly realizes that the Rider isn’t one of the Resistance’s and freezes. The Rider sidesteps him and enters the Main Tent to Ryland’s protest.

From the Main Tent there is a raise of commotion before a deafening silence. Ryland rushes back in.

I freeze in place and feel my heart quicken in my chest. Whoever this Rider is, he does not belong in this camp.

It feels like an eternity before the Rider emerges back out. The Council follows him out in tow and Ryland emerges with Caligo hot at his heels. They both look shellshocked and Caligo tugs at Ryland’s arm. They have a hushed conversation.

I run towards them just as Solaire reaches them. Her face is pale.

“What happened?” I glance back to see that the Elven Rider is now having an animated argument with the Elven Councilor.

For a moment, no one speaks, and then Ryland lets out a deep breath slowly.

“The Rider. He brought a letter for the Resistance.”

His voice sounds far away and he trades glances with Caligo. They both look at a loss.

Frustrated I turn to Solaire. “Anything bad?”

Solaire shakes her head and draws her coat tighter over herself.

“There were always rumors that they were still around but…they never approached us or any other rebellion…” Her voice drifts off surprised.

Caligo shuffles his feet in thought and stares at the Elven Rider now preparing to embark again with a letter from the Council in response.

“What exactly did he say?” I ask for the second time feeling frustrated at their lack of response.

Ryland turns to me and his eyes are wide with surprise.

“The Rider is an elf. He came from a hideaway when he heard of our victory over the Coastal Domain. The letter he brought says that they want to work with us.”

“An Elven rebellion? I didn’t know there was another rebellion group,” I murmur.

Caligo shakes his head.

“There isn’t, Hope. He isn’t a part of an Elven Rebellion. He’s a member of the Elven Royal Staff. What’s left of the Elven Royal Family wants to work with us.”

[fullmetalirin]

Fullmetal Alchemist OG vs. Brotherhood: The Fifth Laboratory (OG 20-22, BH 08)

And now we enter the Fifth Laboratory. OG added a ton of content here, extending this into a full arc.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 20: "Soul of the Guardian"

The Elrics learn that the guards are souls bound to empty suits of armor. Ed struggles in his battle against Number 48, a serial killer known as Slicer, When his automail arm malfunctions, the result of Winry forgetting to add a small bolt. Ed is troubled to see that his opponent is a pair of brothers, where the younger one controls the body. Ed manages to defeat Slicer by use of Scar's destruction technique, yet he refuses to finish them off, due to seeing Al in the same manner. Al realizes that Number 66 is Barry the Chopper, who tries to suggest that Al never truly existed, saying he was a doll made for Ed. Contemplating on the possibility, Al recalls that Ed was afraid of telling him something.

We open by recapping the fight openers from the end of last episode. This really reeks of padding for time. It's reasonable to show the whole fight, but then why did they show a little bit of them last episode? BH had a much cleaner break.

Apparently the seals work by forming a connection between the iron in the blood and the metal in the armor.

There's a relatively comedic soundtrack during the battle. Why?

Ed leaps back to just barely dodge one of Slicer's attacks, but lands awkwardly and falls.

Ed seemed to get tired out awfully quick compared to the fights he's been in before.

Barry is portrayed as a comedic oaf in his battle, a far cry from the horror villain he was before. I much prefer the latter version. Having Barry show up earlier was a really cool idea, but they probably should have changed his personality here as well. (I also do wonder if it might have been stronger to make him go up against Ed instead, but Ed does need to form a connection with Slicer for what happens later to have the proper impact.)

Ross keeps her cool and takes charge when Armstrong intimidates them.

Ed really shouldn't be able to keep landing on his injured arm like that. I guess maybe the cut was light, but it's bleeding an awful lot.

Slicer cuts through Ed's created spear in a single attack, while the automail's still holding up.

Slicer is talking an awful lot. I guess if he's certain he'll win it's a bit reasonable, but if his entire strategy is tiring Ed out, he shouldn't be pausing to give him opportunities to rest.

Ed is in really bad shape after the second wound.

Slicer throws Ed's "all's fair in war" back at him when he complains about the two souls. LOL.

Slicer interrupts Ed before he can transmute. Good to see someone finally doing that.

Slicer tells Ed to kill them because they're not people. Obviously Ed does not agree with that.

I don't understand how Al can fall for the idea he's not real. They have photographs showing Al existed.

Slicer loses it at the discovery that it's only now that they've become soul-armor that they're treated as people.

"Do you have any proof you really existed???" PHOTOGRAPHS

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 21: "The Red Glow"

Scar luckily arrives and helps a disadvantaged Al defeat Barry. This causes Barry to set off explosives, freeing an imprisoned Greed as well as others around him. The older Slicer agrees to take Ed to the interior of the laboratory, but the younger Slicer breaks his blood seal after Ed calls him human. Solf J. Kimblee, the "Crimson Alchemist", and several other prisoners are led by a fake Grand to be ingredients for the philosopher's stone. Ed and Slicer are attacked by mutant chimeras until they are called off by Tucker, who, after his death was fabricated, has become a chimera himself. As Al and Scar travel into the laboratory, Scar reminisces about his brother and Ishbal, but they are attacked by Lust and Gluttony, who Scar reveals to be homunculi. Tucker shows Ed around the laboratory, who realizes that he has been given the opportunity to create the philosopher's stone.

Barry continues to get played for comedy.

Barry recognizes Scar's arm but doesn't want to say anything about it.

Greed has been imprisoned for 130 years.

The younger Slicer insists there's no life for them so Ed should just kill him. Ed tries to argue by saying if he gets the Philosopher's Stone he'll restore them too, but they just say they'll be executed again, unless he wants to shelter serial killers.

Ed tries to stop him from killing himself, including leaping onto him and restraining his arm. I feel like he should be tearing his wounds open by doing that. Ed looks really horrified when he kills himself.

Ed agonizes over what he could have done. Slicer says there are many problems in the world with no answer.

Why is Envy disguising himself as Grand? They did say the laboratory was under his control, but has news of his death not reached Central?

They foreshadowed Tucker brilliantly, I must say. We were told his execution was rushed, Ed calls it a coverup, and then we learn supposedly executed prisoners were actually funneled into the laboratory. It makes perfect sense.

Tucker looks nicely creepy. His human body is grafted on upside-down. How are his glasses staying on, though?

Ed immediately confronts him over Nina. I am pleased that that is continuing to matter.

Al says he heard Ishbal was destroyed for coming too close to a Philosopher's Stone? When?

Scar flashback! We see his human transmutation attempt. It looks even worse than the Elrics'. But what did he lose in the attempt?

Okay, so apparently they were doing all this to "verify" Marcoh's notes were true? How exactly did they plan to do that? Kill a ton of people and see if anything happened?

Ed tries to ask who runs the place, but doesn't get an answer.

Tucker turned himself into a chimera trying to make a Nina chimera? How does that work? Possibly rebound, if he’s working with flawed Stones.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 22: "Created Human"

Hughes organizes an expedition to rescue the Elrics in the fifth laboratory. Envy, in the guise of Grand, gathers the human ingredients and forces Ed to attempt to transmute a philosopher's stone. Bradley joins the expedition and mobilizes the military in the rescue mission. Kimblee sets off an explosion, causing the prisoners to fall into the room below. Ed questions the prisoners for their reason being in the laboratory, though this results in a short fight against Envy before Lust intervenes. Lust takes Al hostage, giving Ed the ultimatum of transmuting the philosopher's stone or watching Al's blood seal be broken. Ed fails in his struggle to transmute the stone. Suddenly, Ed's body begins to react after being doused in the incomplete stone, destroying his surroundings. The homunculi escape as the military invades the base and Ross calms Ed down.

Mustang complains about his lack of screentime. Sorry, Mustang, this anime actually cares about its ostensible protagonists.

We cut to Scar fighting Gluttony. He is slammed through a wall and then falls two stories into Greed's prison. How is he surviving all this?

Al says the homunculi aren't people. Interesting, considering how much time we spent on that theme last episode.

Gluttony takes a bite out of Al.

Tucker says Marcoh left the Philosopher's Stones in this lab behind. That seems negligent when he said he was going to take the Stones in the flashback, but it does look like these ones would be harder to steal.

Tucker points out it's not like Ed can turn them back into people; flashback to Nina.

Slicer tries to sunk-cost fallacy it up, saying that the sacrifices' lives will have no meaning unless Ed completes the Stone.

Team Hughes runs into Bradley, who covers himself by saying by golly, he just didn't know what his direct subordinate was doing, and never bothered to ask! He somehow already knows Ed and Al are in there, and agrees to come with everyone for the rescue. The other soldiers are pleased, but Hughes looks suspicious.

Tucker seems to be tricking Ed into thinking he only needs to work on the liquid, and not that there will be additional deaths.

We get some nice science from Ed with him devising a strategy to refine the Stones.

Kimblee explains how he makes bombs: he transmutes the trace metals and organic compounds in the human body into explosives.

Ed doesn't joke when Envy calls him a pipsqueak. Thank you.

Ed tries to fight, but his automail arm goes limp. Envy beats him up.

Ooh, Envy suddenly gets angry at Ed for "carrying his blood". So we're foreshadowing that, too.

The homunculi promised Tucker they'd teach him how to bring Nina back to life.

Ed points out he won't have Nina's soul, but Tucker says he can place all his memories of her into the body and that will, in fact, be even better than the real thing. Cut to Al looking suspicious.

Lust says the homunculi can't use alchemy, which is why they need Ed. Why couldn't they just have Dante do it, though?

Ed pieces together that he's been dancing to their strings the whole time and has a breakdown. Apparently they taught Marcoh as well. What I want to know is why they wanted to destroy his research if they wanted someone to follow it? Were they worried that their prospective alchemist would have a crisis of conscience if they learned too much?

Lust invokes equivalent exchange: we give you the Stone, you use it to make us human.

Slicer moans in pain when Lust scrapes his seal. Ed looks horrified and screams at her to stop.

Al screams at Ed to stop, saying he doesn't want this if it's at the cost of human lives. Envy laughs and points out he knew that when he tried to transmute Trisha, but he did it anyway: only a human life can pay for a human life. Lust chimes in that they knew they were becoming dogs of the military, and they accepted it. They've always been willing to make sacrifices for this goal, so what's one more, really? Ed actually looks like he buys into it, saying if he gives up here they'll never get their bodies back.

But Ed can't bring himself to do it in the end.

ONLY NOW does Scar come to the rescue. Why was he waiting until the last second???

Bradley orders the rescue team to kill all non-civilians, makes a scary face. So I guess he's writing this off as a loss, perhaps planning to move everything to a new location later.

Ross hugs Ed and this somehow stops the runaway reaction. He passes out afterwards, so it could just be that that was going to happen anyway and they just needed to calm him down before he blew anything up.

Ed thinks Ross is his mom before he passes out, which is a little weird but hey, he's had a really bad day. And it’s another reminder on the child soldier thing.

Sloth tells the homunculi good job. Uh... why? They failed, and seem to have wrecked their supplies in the process. This seems like it should actually be a big setback.

We end with everyone clapping as Armstrong brings out the unconscious brothers. I found it a powerful visual: the brothers just went through Hell and barely made it out alive, and everyone’s just overjoyed the rescue was a success.

FMA Brotherhood Episode 8: "The Fifth Laboratory"

At the fifth laboratory, Alphonse fights Barry the Chopper outside, and Edward faces Slicer inside. It is revealed that both opponents are souls of murderers affixed to armor. Edward struggles in his battle when his automail arm malfunctions. Alphonse initially has the advantage in his fight, until Barry suggests that Alphonse never truly existed, claiming he was a doll made by Edward with false memories, causing Alphonse to contemplate the possibility. Edward is particularly troubled when his opponent turns out to be a pair of brothers, each controlling a different part of the armor. Edward manages to defeat Slicer by use of Scar's destruction technique, but before he can extract any information from the two brothers, they are killed by Lust and Envy. Edward demands to know who they are and tries to use alchemy, but his automail arm breaks and he is knocked out by Envy. Outside, Barry almost gains the upper hand over Alphonse, but Alphonse is saved by the arrival of Brosh and Ross. Lust and Envy destroy the lab to cover up the evidence of the philosopher's stone, but not before carrying Edward outside and handing him over to Brosh and Ross, commenting that he is a valuable resource.

Slicer's arena looks very different, much brighter with warmer colors. There's a Philosopher's Stone transmutation circle in it.

Slicer zooms forward and then pauses for like three seconds to give a one-liner. This is something that works in comics but not in animation. They're adapting the manga way too literally.

Ed doesn't need to see the bloodseal to figure out Slicer is animated armor. Slicer actually shows him his bloodseal once he figures it out and outright tells him he'll win if he destroys it. Ed lampshades how dumb this is, and Slicer says he "likes a little tension". I hate this trope. Let the heroes earn their victories, don't just give it to them, please.

Mustang still hasn't found Scar, and says he's believed to be dead.

Cut to Ross and Brosh finding the brothers escaped. Cartoon face.

They head to the 5th laboratory without consulting Hughes or any of that.

We still get the bit about Ed's shoulder being loose, but the only explanation is Winry saying it's lighter, not that she forgot a piece.

Ed still gets cut on the shoulder, but it's way less gruesome. It just looks like he's got a red tattoo under his jacket, it's not even bleeding.

But he does get blood on his head somehow? Brotherhood really likes doing that.

Cartoon face when Slicer calls Ed a monkey. I don't think it's appropriate, but I'll concede this one is more subjective.

Ed doesn't look nearly as exhausted. In OG he's covered in sweat by this point and visibly staggering with every move.

We get a flashback story about Barry since we don't know him in this continuity. There's just comedy as Al says he's never heard of him.

Same skit where Barry demands Al be freaked out about his body, only more cartoonish.

Al gets an anger mark placed… in midair…

Bit where Barry makes Al doubt his memories is pretty much the same. Once again, no one brings up photographs.

The guard from before tries to interrupt them and is killed by Barry. So… why couldn't Barry and Slicer just break out at any time? The only thing stupider than mad scientists creating an unstoppable supersoldier that will inevitably turn on them is it not turning on them for no given reason.

I hate the way the blood is drawn. It looks so fake. It's overdetailed, with clearly-defined outlines. It looks like it's just red goop.

Ed doesn't create a fake Al for his trick, which I think is more reasonable – the whole point was that Slicer wasn't giving him time to use alchemy in the OG fight. The fake Al was really only there as a fakeout of the audience.

We're speedrunning the fight. Ed gives his same line about blood loss making him woozy, but without POV cam to show it it's a lot less effective.

Cartoon face when younger Slicer starts flailing around.

Barry tells Al to break his bloodseal to find out if he's real; if he isn't, he should still be able to move. This is just getting more and more implausible. There'd be no need to add a useless bloodseal if Ed wasn't actually binding a soul.

Same bit where Slicer loses it at only now being called a person.

Slicer is about to tell Ed about the Philosopher's Stone and who ordered them to guard the place, but the homunculi show up and kill him, saying they can't let him tell Ed too much. So I guess the homunculi are also running the 5th laboratory in this continuity? So we still have the plot hole of them not trying very hard to keep Ed alive. Also not sure why they care so much about spilling the beans? Are they afraid knowledge of Philosopher's Stones can be used against them, since they're powered by them? Doesn't seem like they have any cause for that – you don't need to know anything about Philosopher's Stones to kill them, and fighting them is still a challenge.

Lust's fingernails bend.

Younger Slicer is upset when older Slicer dies.

Envy tortures younger Slicer to death by slowing cutting away at his bloodseal.

Envy admonishes Slicer for nearly killing one of their sacrifices. So… why didn't you… stop him earlier…?

Ed doesn't joke about Envy calling him pipsqueak. Congrats on restraining yourself for once, Brotherhood.

Aaand as soon as I say that, there's comedy when Ed's arm goes limp.

The homunculi say they're allowing Ed to live, but also that they can't have him sniffing around the laboratory again, so they're going to burn the place down. I still don't understand why they're trying so hard to keep this secret.

Ross and Brosh rescue Al from Barry. They're alone.

Envy just… delivers Ed and runs off.

We get a small scene with Kimblee, but he doesn't escape.

Ed doesn't see Envy transform, so he's not aware of that ability yet.

Conclusion

This is the first major divergence. OG has massively expanded the 5th laboratory plot into a full arc that establishes the villains' motivations, greatly furthers the hero's character development, and brings it all to an intense climax that engages with the driving question of the narrative. OG has finally committed to making its own plot, and the quality has skyrocketed as a result.

Almost everything I complained about in the OG episodes was there in the source as well. The Elrics having no clear reason to do any of this? In Brotherhood too. Lulzy serial killers? In Brotherhood too. Al forgetting photographs exist? In Brotherhood too. The villains supposedly needing Ed alive but not doing anything to keep him that way? In Brotherhood too.

Meanwhile, everything I liked about this arc was added by OG. Scar showing up? OG only. Tucker? OG only. Realistic fight choreography? OG only. Ed actually getting a chance to engage with the morality of affirming the humanity of murderers? OG only. Ed showing humanity and compassion for them? OG only. Awesome midpart cliffhanger? OG only. Interesting villain motivations? OG only. Actually menacing villains? OG only. Ross and Brosh actually acting like soldiers, and the military being functional? OG only. Something of narrative significance actually happening during this arc? OG only.

The good parts of the OG episodes are in spite of the source material, not thanks to them. The flaws were there because the writers weren't quite good enough to fix everything wrong with the disaster of a plot they were handed. And this is a disaster. No one's actions match their motivations. Ross and Brosh don't behave anything like actual soldiers. The heroes gain absolutely nothing of value. It is a complete waste of our time. The wheel-spinning that will characterize this entire series has already begun.

About the only substantive criticism I can give of the OG episodes is that the first half is a bit too slow even for me – but the Brotherhood episode is too fast, I'd say. It'd have been better for them to strike a middle ground, maybe spreading it into two episodes instead of three. 22 is pretty solid, but 20 and 21 could probably have been combined without losing much. But again, we just come back to the same point: OG would have been better if it had been even more irreverent to the source material and diverged even sooner.

On representation: Ross is once again the more important of the two by a mile. Brosh is barely a presence in OG. Her cooldown hug plays into some problematic feminine tropes, but the framing makes it clear that it was a truly brave act – even Armstrong hesitated to wade into Ed's storm. That alone makes Ross a truly strong female character in my book. Whether or not she can shoot stuff good isn't the only criteria that matters. Is she smart? Is she brave? Is she treated with dignity by the narrative? OG says yes to all three, unequivocally. Brotherhood says no to the former and latter, and a "yes, but not any moreso than her male comedy buddy" to the second.

[constellationsandneptune]

Ever since the release from the IPCC in the UN, I’ve felt an unmistakeable feeling of dread and terror that won’t ever leave. It lingers in my heart, in my chest, hollows out all the ore and love and life that I’ve been gifted, and has left me feeling hopeless and bleak.

I’m not naive enough to think that this feeling will ever lift.

The place I’m in is undoubtedly dark, and bad, and there’s nothing more I can do about it instead hold it in and stare at ceilings while staying awake at unreasonable times. The motivation I once had as a child, gone, and any attempts at attending online schooling has been cast away for a chance at pointless indulgence when I realise that all of it will be for naught. I’ve entertained the thought of death far too many times, to the point where I’ve wondered if many things that I think will eventually turn into actions which form no return. I’ve reasoned with myself, chastised and scolded myself for being afraid of a demise that we’ve brought upon ourselves, yet I can’t help the tears and the onslaught of feelings which bear a heavy burden on my shoulders.

I don’t know what it is I hoped to achieve by making this account, but I’ll see where it goes. Perhaps it’ll serve as a grave towards my loved ones after I’m long gone, or perhaps it’ll die alone and forgotten — like many things on the internet. Perhaps I’ll use it as a memory — a journal with no physical trace of existence— insignificant. I hope it’ll help me, because there’s no much going for me, now, and this is my last, desperate struggle to reach out for even a slimmer of hope, but I’m not too certain on the future.

I cannot express into words what it feels like to be this way. The crushing fear of Earth ending, of civilisation and humanity dying out as though we never mattered. I cannot explain why I am too tired to cry, even though it would be cathartic and relieving when I am too tired to think about anything else. I don’t think I’ll bother explaining the thoughts which plague my mind hourly, reminding me that death is but six steps away — and a lifetime of suffering is everything compared to my last, final moments struggling against a noose. Even as I’m writing this, my expression is blank while my heart aches, yet there’s nothing I can do.

Truly, I have never felt this hopeless. Still not of age, I lack the power and proper skill set to ever do anything which may lessen or prolong our existence. I do not have fifty trillion dollars, and I do not have a kindness strong enough to empathise with those who may be able to help yet contribute nothing. I am reminded time and time again that my anger and despair is all for naught, and at the end of the day, whether I’m crying or laughing the sun still goes on and the moon still rises.

But it’s not about me. At the end of the day, despair is selfish and arrogant; arrogant in the way that despair makes people feel they are even capable of being or wanting to be alone, and selfish in the way that despair makes you lose all prospect of others. Despair is a disease, and it’s grip on mankind will be the death of us all.

It won’t ever be just about me, even if my voice may join the chorus of millions of others crying out in hopes for a more promising future, even if my thoughts are not mine and share the influence of those beyond my years. Humans are one and the same, and in some way we’ve all contributed to our eventual demise - no matter the size of our contribution. And at the end of day, once it all ends, none of it will matter.

The universe will continue to age until all there’ll be left is the final spark of a black hole before it all blinks into nothingness. And life will be but a distant memory billions of years past, and no life will ever occur again. And we will have never mattered. Our music, our cultures, our languages, our grief, our happiness, our shared pain and love will have disappeared and become snuffed out because we are as small as dust in the galaxy. The animals we live with and our loved ones will no longer exist — serving only as atoms which float around aimlessly in the emptiness forever doused in black. What happens now may seem huge for us, but it will forever only be the natural order of things taking its course.

Everything I write sounds pretentious, but perhaps that’s just what feeling hopeless feels like. It’s a gnawing frost freezing your bones, and it’s a disease which poisons your mind and body until all you’re left with is a husk wishing for the very thing most people fear. Hopelessness destroys you, because once you find yourself in it, it never, ever leaves.

And I wish it would. I wish to be happy again. I wish that thoughts of death stop plaguing my blasted mind.

2:47am. I’m tired. I think I will sleep.

[bobert-drake]

ScottWarren ficlet thing in which Warren and Scott discuss the aftermath of a mission gone wrong.

Uhh the ending is a little messy but yeah here we go

—

Scott was five seconds from sleeping when he heard the door to his room creak open. The visitor was humming to himself and made a displeased noise when his shoes squeaked along the tile floor. As they drew closer to his bed, Scott tensed.

A hand was placed on his bicep, and Scott couldn’t bite back the grin that spread across his face when he felt warm breath on his forehead, followed by a pair of soft lips. Long hair tickled his nose. He puckered his lips and blew a puff of air in its direction.

The visitor startled back for a split second before returning to his side. “Awake?” murmured the stranger, gingerly rubbing calloused fingers over Scott’s hand with the IV in it. It was familiar, comforting, and although Scott had known it was Warren as soon as he’d heard the squeaky shoes, it had come as no less of a surprise that he was here with him.

“Mmh,” was the response that Warren received, as well as a gentle head-butt to his arm. “Hey, wanna gimme some water?”

Scott cracked his eyes open to watch as Warren glanced around for a bottle. Locating it, Warren brought it up to his lips and slowly tilted it, letting the cool liquid coat Scott’s parched throat. Afterwards, Warren took his sleeve and wiped the drops from his chin, and after pecking his cheek, sat back in his chair and stared.

He hadn’t let go of his hand.

Scott cleared his throat after a minute - or at least tried to; the painkillers that he’d been doused with made it so that his mouth was constantly dry, but the nurses had warned him that too much water would overload his system. He’d much rather suck down a bottle anyway and face the consequences afterwards, though. Medicine and hospitals freaked him out majorly, and his friends checking up on him every few hours was a welcome distraction, but it only went so far.

He’d been flung through a brick wall during a mission gone awry, and broke three ribs, sprained his wrist, and suffered a minor concussion. Warren had sat with him when the medicine was administered, clutching his hand tightly and whispering reassurances to the younger man. When he’d been forced to leave after hours of keeping a sleeping Scott company, he went, figuratively, kicking and screaming.

His eyes were tinged red like he’d been crying, and Scott knew he had. Warren, though outwardly it may not seem like it, had a big enough heart to serve ten people a lifetime, and his friends took up the majority of the space there; Scott, recently, more so, since they’d begun this cute, flirty, not-dating. It mostly consisted of kisses and hand-holding and cheesy dates and sharing milkshakes, and that was sufficient enough for both.

They’d have to eventually sit down and talk about what exactly they were doing, and where it would leave them in the future. For now, the two were content to pretend like it was nothing serious. It worked. They worked.

“Jean’s coming over later to have dinner with me,” Scott murmured as Warren brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. It would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Scott did, but Warren’s soft smile twitched just slightly. “We’re having jello and hospital potatoes.” Warren’s hand came to rest on his stomach.

“Oh?” He was trying to act disinterested. It showed.

Scott hummed and reached up to play with his fingers. “Yeah, yep.” A beat of silence passed before he added, “Y’know, she feels terrible for what happened-“

“Good,” Warren hissed. “She should. You got hurt because she wasn’t paying attention. I told you, she’s too new at this. She hasn’t had enough training to be out in the field.”

Scott waited for Warren to come up for air before sighing loudly. Not this rant again. “It was partly my fault-“

Warren gave his hand a hard squeeze. “No, not your fault. Her fault. Are you sure she’s even really fit for this team-“

“Why can’t you two just get along?” Scott snapped suddenly, surprising both of them. He closed his eyes at the resulting flash of pain in his side. “I feel like it’s always a battle with you guys. She did this, she said this. Come on, babe,” he added softly after a moment.

Warren’s eyes were downcast and the tops of his cheeks were pink when Scott glanced back at him. Deep down, he felt guilty for snapping at him, but presently he just felt sad and confused that his lover (?) and friend were at odds.

A shaky breath was drawn in before Warren spoke. “...I’m just so tired of seeing human-passing X-Men.”

Wow. That simultaneously was everything and nothing that Scott predicted he would say.

The statement wasn’t out of the blue, per se; both knew too well of the acid attacks on a group of street-performing mutants in downtown New York recently, and it was no surprise to learn that every member of the group had some non-human feature. It was events like these that riled Warren up the most.

Jean Grey had been added to the team just a week prior to that. When Warren had seen her at first, he’d hoped that she had some other, secret physical altercation. That she was like him, or Scott.

“No,” she’d responded when he’d asked, with a bright smile that could have rivaled the sun itself. “Just me and my mind stuff.” She’d wiggled her fingers in Scott’s direction, and he’d laughed and retuned her grin. Warren hadn’t laughed. In fact, he’d already aimed for the door and headed upstairs by the time Scott had turned around to introduce them formally.

Scott had looked helplessly back at Jean. “I’m... sorry about that. He’s.. well, uh-“

“Sensitive?” Jean offered with a sad smile.

“Yeah.” Sensitive. Passionate. Angry with the world. “He really is.”

Jean had shrugged and cast a longing glance towards the window, which looked strange and distorted with the rain that had fallen that morning. “That’s good to be, these days. We all need something to help us tough it out, right?”

Scott hadn’t been sure that this was the reason Warren had stalked off, but he’d nodded along anyway, because Jean was right; it helped to be fierce in a world that wanted nothing more than to put you down at every opportunity.

Back in the hospital room, Scott could see the shine in Warren’s eyes when he met them, sliding his hands up Warren’s arms and holding him there.

“I’m so tired of having to hide what I am,” Warren finally choked out, and tightened his grip on Scott’s hospital gown. “Why did I get stuck with these things-“ he tossed his head back, gesturing to the wings bound tightly against his body underneath his clothes- “and she gets to walk around without ever having to worry about someone finding out?

“Why do human-passing mutants not face the same shit that we do? They don’t have to be afraid of getting shot or kidnapped or beat up every time they walk outside. They don’t have to cover themselves up and pray that no one stares at them too closely.” Tears were rolling down Warren’s cheeks now, and Scott could feel his own eyes pricking with those unshed.

“It’s not fair, Scotty,” Warren murmured, trembling slightly. “And I’m tired of half of our team being mutants who can do that.”

Scott tugged Warren down until his head was tucked snugly underneath his chin, and stroked his hair, his neck and shoulders, everywhere that he could reach. Kissing the crying man where he could, and shedding a few tears himself.

No, it wasn’t fair, and it never would be fair. But they were all fighting the same fight, and the only difference was that some more than others would walk away from it.

“That’s why we fight” Scott reminded him. “That’s why we go through all this; so that mutants in the future won’t have to. So that they can express their mutations in public and not be afraid.”

Because one day, it wouldn’t be like this. Scott felt Warren’s pain and he held him through it. He kissed him and he loved him. And weeks later, when he would come face-to-face with a group of Purifiers, he’d hit them just a little harder than usual.

One day, he repeated to himself. One day, one day, one day.

[silverglimse-productions]

It’s better this way...

AN: A gift for @random-sanders​ for @fander-secret-santa​ 

This was my first ever Sanders Sides fic, and it was really fun! Hope you like it!

Oh, and Random-sanders? You asked for angst, so here is some freaking angst.

Wordcount: 1890

Tw: Suicide, major character death, dead body (If there any more, please inform me so I can tag it:P)

Summary: One sentence was all it took to get Virgil to spiral into despair, because he had forgotten his roots… that at heart he was a disease

“You are really starting to become one of us, Ill Bill!” Roman chuckled, as he added a few blueberries to his pancake, before dousing it with maple syrup.

           “What’s that supposed to mean, Sir Sing-a-Lot?” Virgil growled, before stuffing his face with a piece of the black pancake, that Patton had made just for him… and yes, he was still using that nickname.

          “Oh, you know, I just didn’t expect someone like you to stick around long enough for us to learn your name, and become a full-fletched Side, that’s all~” Roman smirked, turning the fork in his hand, before finally hacking into the pancake in front of him.

The two was sitting at the table in the dining room, a Sunday morning, arguing as usual, as Logan was reading the newspaper, and Patton was making more pancakes in the kitchen. It was sort of becoming a tradition to eat breakfast (or brunch as Virgil had announced, when he arrived at 10:02 am, the first time) together on Sundays.

           “I meant the new nickname Ill Bi-“ Virgil stopped, choking on his words, as he realised that what Roman was referring to was the fact that he was an illness, while the others were personality traits. A sense of nausea hit him, and he felt like he was going to throw up. How could he forget?

“Virgil, are you Good, Fahm?” Logan looked up from his newspaper, not used to Virgil stopping in the middle of a sentence, especially when it was directed at Roman “You look ill, want me to get some antibiotics or something?” Logan was the most responsible of the four Sides, so he was the one who stored and controlled all the pills and medicine. If one of the others wanted some of it, they had to get through him first.

           “Yeah, I’m fine Logan, don’t worry about it… I-I just remembered how much Thomas has to socialise the next week, AKA how much I have to work next week, that’s all!” The youngest Side assured. He was going to be fine, he just needed some time to collect his thoughts and relax.

           “Oh, okay. Don’t overwork yourself though…” Logan lectured, concern laced in his voice, turning back to his newspaper. He didn’t have to worry though, Virgil was used to it – they would just need to take a few days off from everything to recharge after next week.

He was going to be fine…

He wasn’t fine, quite the opposite, actually. Six days later, and he still couldn’t stop thinking about what Roman had said. He was angry that something Princey had said, could impact him in such a way, it was downright disgusting.

Why was this nickname haunting him like a relentless ghost? It wasn’t like he had forgotten his roots, right? It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of the fact that he was an illness, right? It wasn’t like he had convinced himself that he could be ~just~ a Side, and nothing else… right? WRONG!

           He had deluded himself into thinking that this could work… but it couldn’t…

The others were personified character traits – something that Thomas embodied, while he was a personified mental illness that plagued Thomas’ daily life… How could he had been so blind?

He was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, that he – for thinking purposes – had changed to a dark night sky, only a few stars spotting the otherwise dark purple. He felt horrible, he hadn’t been able to sleep, eat or even look the others in the eyes. The Sides probably just thought that the stressful week was getting to him, thinking that he just needed to have a few days off, but they were so ~very~ wrong!

He felt like a virus or a spy from the enemy’s side. He acted like he had gotten better, and the others were finally beginning to warm up to him, but at what cost? Their guard wasn’t up all the time around him, which was nice… but that only made it easier for him to infect Thomas.

And then he felt it creeping up on him like it had so many times before. That feeling of despair, that granted he was accustomed to, but was still a horrible feeling. Plus, he hadn’t felt it since he had told the others his name… since they had accepted him…

It clouded his vision, his hearing, well… his every sense. The side’s heart started throbbing louder and louder, sending more and more blood through his veins, until he could hear nothing but the rush of his own blood. It was affecting Thomas a lot, he was sure, but right now he didn’t care, and even if he did, his senses were still to dulled to do anything. He couldn’t do anything. The familiar black hole opened under him, covering the bed and swallowing him whole, and then he was falling.

           Virgil was completely limb, not even able to move a finger. He stared upwards, as his room, faster and faster, disappeared above him. He was gaining momentum. He didn’t care. He was falling into a dark hole with no escape, and he didn’t care, because even if he did, he couldn’t do anything.

And then, all at once, he cared. He could move again, so he tried getting a hold of… anything, that could stop his fall, but there wasn’t any in the blavk hole, just darkness. He was afraid, screaming for help, he was going to die.

           Why was this happening? Usually, the cloud filling up his body only disappeared ~after~ he was done falling. Virgil screamed for help, his tears – not being able to catch up – flew upwards, towards the ever-fading light. He was going to die, he was actually going to die! The Side didn’t even dare to think about what this was doing to Thomas. Virgil was ruining him… maybe it would be best for everyone if he did die… after that he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else…

Thomas would probably be better off without him – for real this time, and the other sides would forget about him soon enough…

          … So, he stopped looking for something to grab onto, closed his eyes, and accepted his fate… 

Virgil’s eyes bolted open. He was still alive, he was in his room, and he was still alive… for now. But not for long, as the youngest had made up his mind…

He stood up from his bed, and headed over to his mirror, making himself look presentable for the Side’s standards – something he hadn’t bothered all week. He touched up his eyeshadow, dusted off his hoodie, and walked out of his own room, down the corridor, and stopped in front of the dark blue door leading into Logan’s room. Virgil stared at the door for a few seconds, considering if he should knock or not. No, he’s not going to give it to you. Instead, he decided to get Thomas to do it for him.

He had to act quickly, if the others found out what he was doing, they would try to stop him.    

��THOMAS…” he said, making sure to layer his voice just a bit, as soon as he popped into reality, to make sure Thomas would listen. He always felt bad using the voice on Thomas, but it was for his own good.

           Thomas, who had been sitting on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen a moment ago – probably deflating from the week of stress, looked up in confusion “Yes, Virgil?” His eyes were glazed slightly over, the voice obviously working.

           “I need you to go get some antidepressants for me… quickly” Virgil said, matter-of-factly. Thomas nodded, heading out towards his car, and beginning to drive towards the nearest pharmacy. Virgil sighed, popping back in to the mindscape, and headed into his room, where he turned up the music, even louder that usual, to try and block out the car engine. The others shouldn’t hear anything.

The drugs were starting to kick in, quickly, which wasn’t really a surprise since he had swallowed them all.

           It was the middle of the night. He didn’t want the Sides to notice anything, so he had waited until he could hear the last lamp being turned off for the night, before he sat his plan into motion. He was starting to get dizzy, when it hit him… Oh, shit… he had forgotten to write a note!

Hurriedly pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from his desk drawer, Virgil began writing:

Dear Sides

I am sorry for barging in and ruining the little peace and quiet, that you had before I showed up.

I have thought about it long and hard, and the conclusion I have come to is that it would be better for all of us, if I clocked out for good, so that’s what I’m doing.

I will no longer be a nuisance to you, or be a wrench in your plans. 

I am tired of being the odd one out, even though you have tried to make me feel like I’m part of the group, it would never have worked out, as I will always at heart be a defect. A disease.

You are all aspects of Thomas’ personality, and I am not. I am a disease, and that will never change. 

Please, try to forget me, since I have only given you pain and nothing else. It’s better this way, trust me.

Virgil … Anxiety

 He stood up from his desk, placing the note… somewhere, fell, and shut his eyes for good.

The next morning, Logan, Patton, and Roman were sitting around the dining table, eating an unhealthy amount of pancakes.

           Patton glanced at the clock… 10:45 am. He stood up, and excused himself, grabbing Virgil’s plate of pancakes, and prepared himself for going into the other side’s room.

           This practice was pretty common by now, Virgil was the one who slept in the most of the four Sides, since he would be the one who normally stayed up the longest. Patton always brought the youngest Side’s breakfast with him, when he went to go wake him. Virgil was almost always grumpy, when he didn’t get to wake up on his own, so to sweeten the deal he was allowed to eat in his room, something the others weren’t.

Patton opened the door to Virgil’s room “Hey kiddo! I brought pan-“ the rest of the sentence got caught in his throat, as he took in the sight. He was used to the darkness of the Side’s room, but it wasn’t that that kept him frozen, and made him drop the pancakes.

           Everything was silent, except for the blood rushing through Patton, and the plate breaking as it hid the ground.

Virgil’s lifeless body, his hand next to an empty bottle of pills, was all that the pun-loving Side could see.

A few days later, as the Sides were cleaning out the youngest room, they found his suicide note… most of the words and letters were an unreadable mess, jumbled together, written in haste, almost like an afterthought… like Virgil had written them after he had taken most – if not all – of the pills. Only a single piece of a sentence was even halfway legible… It’s better this way…

[mintyoongiskookie]

sad boys | two

Member: Jeon Jungkook x Reader x Park Jimin

Genre: Heavy angst, maybe a bit of fluff? Rebel Jungkook, Fuck Buddy Jimin, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2,500

A/N: SORRY FOR MY INACTIVITY! My school just started up and let’s just say my mental health hasn’t been the best recently. But thank you all for the likes!

      *Italics in this is a flashback

      They were everywhere. Roses, glass, roses, glass, roses, glass. Him. Bushes of white roses were trapping you, the windows on his quaint little house taunting you, the reflections laughing at you. You stumbled up, grabbing for your throbbing head, making your way down the porch steps. Everything was spinning, screaming, laughing, and you couldn’t grip what was reality. A figure rushed to you, garbled words not registering into your brain. You had guessed it was Jimin, but you waved him off, shaking your head as you stumbled your way to the sidewalk. Your head turned, ears popping, and the boy was staring at you. Clear as day. No blurred lines, no screaming voices. His sad eyes stared at you, widening the slightest. He snapped his head away, staring at the ground. The voices slithered into your head again, and away you walked.

      You made your way home, crouching on the front lawn, trying the make the voices seize. You sat there, cradling yourself, images shooting through your head. You couldn’t take it. It felt like wind was stripping your skin away, yet there was nothing but a calm breeze. It felt like the sun was burning your bones, scorching you from the inside out, but the sun was calmly setting. Everything was spinning, screeching, but in reality it was a mask of suburbia.

      A hand shoved its was through your flying surroundings, then everything stopped. Your hands were inching away from your head, and your eyes focused on the inked hand of the boy. A cigarette was hanging between his lips, a flush on his cheeks, and two bottles of fifteen dollar whiskey in his hands. He really was trying. Before you knew it, he was helping you onto the roof of his house, half a bottle already down your throats. His cigarette was between your lips, the lipstick staining the shitty filter. His back was against the shingles, shirt raised up a bit, scars and scabs on his stomach showing. He was completely shattered. 

      He was a fucked up piece of shit. He knew it, you knew it, everyone probably knew it. There were burns of little circles running up and down his arms, scars on every inch of his body. His hands were giant, tough and callused, yet still so beautiful. His veins were twisting over his arms, dancing under the skin, making murals. His face was so worn, so knowledgeable, and his eyes look like he’s seen everything you’d never want to. But his skin was so soft, so clear, like a baby. He was only a child in a man’s body, his thoughts contradicting to his actions. He wasn’t okay. You knew if anyone asked, his fake smile would fall onto his lips, not reaching his dead eyes, and new scars making their way onto his hips. He would smile and nod, because people like him were always the best liars. People like both of you.

      The liquor was burning your throat, but the relief of booze was washing over you. Heat ran over your body, and the warm buzz made you feel safe. You almost didn’t hear him speak.

      “Daddy’s gone, mommy issues, copes with smokes and whiskey. Y’know kid, you’re kinda like me.” His voice shocks you, the silky sound falling freely from his lips. he sounded like he knew what he was going to say at all times, no hesitation present in his voice at all. You didn’t expect him to sound so much like sweet honey, you expected something like sandpaper, the constant smoke of cigarettes wearing and tearing on his throat. Even your voice had rough edges and cracks every once in a while. He sounded like someone who could lull you to sleep in an instant, no matter the situation. What also shocked you was that he saw right through you.

      “How did you…?”

      A small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes placed itself on his face. “Your eyes tell a story.” When was he looking at my eyes? “You aren’t okay. People are terrible for thinking you are.” Okay, so he was more observant than you thought. You didn’t know what you were doing. Sitting on your soulmate’s roof, chugging whiskey, not having any intent of touching on the fragile subject.

      “You’re dead.” You could see his slightly puzzled look from the corner of your eyes, and you had to admit, it wasn’t the best choice of words. “I mean you were. In your past life. You stabbed your throat with a mirror and made me watch.” As the words left your mouth, more and more images crashed into your mind, drowning out anything else. Your head fell to your hands, your fingers curling around your hair, tugging at the roots. You didn’t know how to cope. How could he? He was the one who put you through this. He killed himself. And you hated how terrible it made you feel. You didn’t know him.

      No one did.

      In an instant you were pulled into his arms, scarred and inked. You didn’t realize that you were shaking, and that silent sobs were racking through your body. how did you have this level of attachment to a boy you just met? You hadn’t cried this hard ever. Not even when you walked in on your mom tying a noose.

      His burnt hands caressed your tear doused cheeks, rough finger pads wiping your tears away. He was enough to make you feel safe, enough to get you to quiet down with the small shushes he gave you. his lips were pressed against your temple, softer than flower petals. Your eyes were screwed shuts, your hands holding his collar with a vice grip. you had no idea where this tidal wave of emotion came from, but it felt so good to have someone to hold onto. Arms that would hold you tight, a shoulder to cry on, and lips that would kiss the pain away. You felt like every part of you just ran to him, letting yourself get encased by his being. He held you on his lap for god knows how long, to the point where the only light source was the sliver of a moon and the billions of stars. His heart beat was soothing, the pace never changing, and the rise and fall of his chest was carrying you away from the world, letting you sleep. He laid down, keeping you on his chest, singing with the voice of an angel. it was quiet, almost silent, some words cracking from the strain on his voice, but it was absolutely perfect.

      If I told you that I loved you

      Tell me, what would you say?

      If I told you that I hated you 

      Would you go away?

      Now I need your help with everything that I do

      I don’t wanna lie, I’ve been relying on you.

      Fallin’ again, I need a pick-me-up

      I’ve been callin’ you friend, I might need to give it up

      I’m sick, and I’m tired too

      I can admit, I am not fire-proof…

      That’s all you heard from there on, sleep taking over your body. That was the best sleep of your life.

      You woke up in a unfamiliar bed, in unfamiliar clothes, but a hangover that you’ve gotten used to. The floorboards were glossed over, the walls were light blue, the sheets matched, and nothing looked like complete shit. You were curled up in something that felt so luxurious, when only then did you notice it was a comforter and the arms of the boy. I don’t even know his name and he knows everything about me. Jimin doesn’t know this shit. You had dreamt of the boy, but only more pure. A real boy. No scars, no black lungs, no fucked up liver, no sadness. The morning light shone on him, and he looked so innocent. You two were walking down a gravel road, you with a scraped knee, and sticks in both of your hands as you swatted at rocks. You two looked so young. 

      “Hey look! A toad!” 

      It was a bright, sunny morning in the small town you both lived in. You had discovered this little boy, with raven black hair and wide eyes while you were chasing after a butterfly a few months ago. He had the purest of faces, his eyes hidden from the rest of the world for his entire life. He had a yellow shirt on today, now covered in mud from your explorations, and overalls covering his legs. His new blue suede shoes got scuffed and dirty, but nothing a little rub from your shirt couldn’t fix. You Had a pale pink tee-shirt on, blue jeans, and old white tennis shoes on your feet. he hadn’t met a girl like you before - daring, fun, boyish. he was used to seeing girls with pigtails and pink bows, Mary Janes and white socks with little bows on them, and a pink dress. They would scream if he brought a worm near them, and would rather play house in the loft than blocks with him and his friends. You through, you were quite the sight to him. You weren’t afraid to get muddy, you would put bugs on your nose, and you would jump into the puddles with your hand in his. He liked to think about your long hair that covered your eyes, and the loud laugh that left your lips when you tripped.

      He had walked all the way down the road to see you today, the two of you venturing off to swim in your pond. His lab was trailing behind you two, too caught up in trying to eat flies to keep up. You both made it there, hopping through the tall grass and throwing off your shoes and socks, jumping right into the muddy water. Little fish nipped at your toes while frogs hopped over to see what all the commotion was, and turtles poked their heads out of the water to watch the young lovers play. Neither of you knew what soulmates were, neither of you knew that it was even possible, and neither of you thought it was possible to love the other. You both thought that love was “icky” and “gross”, and if any of the girls teased you two at school, you’d both pout ad say that, “Ewwww! That’s gross!” You two were just best friends, and you thought everyone felt like you did towards each other. You would say that every boy had cooties, except him. If he kissed you on your mud-covered cheek, you would break out into a gigantic grin and giggle. When you hugged him every time you saw him, his heart would beat faster and louder, and his smile would shine brighter than the sun.

      You both walked back to his house, his mother laughing when he saw how muddy the two of you were. She cleaned you both up, and sent him to walk you back home. You got to your front porch, smiling when you turned to face him with his head down, toeing the walkway with his shoes. Before you could say anything, his head shot up and pressed his lips against yours. You both stood there, hand in hand, cheeks as red as the poppies in the pots on the edge of your porch. He broke away and placed a white rose in your hair, the thorns all gone from his nervous fidgeting.

      “I saw mommy and daddy do that yesterday. They said people who love each other do that.”

      Your arms pulled him to you, your face hiding in his hair. Your muffled voice made you both grin wider than every before:

      “I love you Kookie.” 

     “I love you too (Y/N).”

      You were brought back to reality with tears in your eyes, streams already down the sides of your face, falling onto the shirt that belonged to him. You wondered why he had a life like this now, what he did to deserve any of this.

      “Kookie.”

      You voice was broken and careful, the sound barely making it’s way out of your throat. That was the first life you had ever lived. And obviously the best.

      His eyes shot wide open, the orbs almost looking the same as your past life. Almost. Sadness never fades.

      His words seemed to be caught in his throat, and instead of saying anything else, he crashed his lips on yours, holding you tighter against him. you felt a drop of wetness against your cheek, and your hands flew up to his face.

      You broke away from him, cradling his beautiful face in your shaking hands. “Please don’t cry.” His words came out as a shattered whisper, the sound only making you cry more.

      You both stayed like that into the afternoon, his hands running up and down your glass figure. He made you feel all these things, and you didn’t know if it was real or not. You were a flower, fragile and soft, beautiful if cared for. But in a single touch, you could break and wilt, and everyone loses interest in you. You were long gone by now, you had nothing that made you, you. You were a shell of a person, empty, with nothing left. You had skin and bones, but nothing that made you special. Then he came, filling you up to the brim with all these things that you didn’t know were even possible. Happiness? You didn’t know that. A will to live? Passion? Love? He made you his, he made you your own person. You were no longer an empty object with two legs and an occasionally working brain, you were you. (Y/N) (L/N). You hadn’t loved your name as much as you did now. You didn’t know how you felt about all these things, you didn’t know how you felt about him. One look at him and your voice is long gone, tears already welling up in your porcelain eyes.

      Your hands traced his scarred arms and legs, feeling the gauze taped onto his thighs, the scabbed cuts on his waist. Tears stormed down your face, waves and waves, silent cries leaving your lips that felt so nice, memories of his covering yours like a blanket, keeping you safe from the outside world. His hands were moving to your sides, your thighs, feeling the band-aids placed everywhere. He could already feel them on you ankle, and his face softened. You weren’t aware of the fact that he was indeed awake until his finger pressed roughly against a too fresh wound. A dry cry left you, your fingers gripping onto his skin, the feeling of blood making its way from the bandage.

      “Don’t ever let me catch you with more of these.”

      He kissed you like you were his world, his everything and nothing, his rise and his fall.

      And you were.

[kusunogatari-a]

[ Mistake ] [ @noharin ] [ Hatake Kakashi, Nohara Rin, Uchiha Itachi ] [ Blood mention, gore mention, death mention, vulgarity mention ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ]

He never should have acquiesced to her help.

Freed of his wound, Kakashi had taken his leave, insisting he not trouble the little nurse any longer than he had to. The better he felt, the less of a danger he was, but...it was still a risk he'd rather not take with her. That, and enclosed spaces made him...nervous.

So though Rin had been stubborn on the subject, the wolf had managed to wriggle out of her grasp and back out into the alleyways and refuse.

It wasn't for a few days that he learned what a mistake he'd made.

“Address is in the burner – you've got until three am. Try to be quick. Might be able to squeeze another job outta you.”

Managing a nod, Kakashi slips the parcel into his coat, feeling it brush the well-mending skin of his harpy wound. Wolves heal fairly fast, but it's still a touch sore. She did a good job.

Leaving their meeting place, the client and runner part ways, and his mental map of the city opens in Kakashi's mind with a glance to the phone. Simple enough – not too far.

...relatively speaking.

“Oi...”

The voice draws his one good eye, and it narrows a hair as Kakashi spies a figure leaned against a wall. “...need something?”

“At least you weren't hard to find...your stench is practically acidic this close up.”

Ah. Another wolf. “And you were looking for me because...?”

“Because you've gone and fucked up. Loners might not pay pack lines much heed, but we sure as hell do.”

...wait...he'd trespassed? When? “...afraid I don't recall. I don't cross borders if I can help it.”

“Four days ago, we found your scent all over Gin territory. A good share of your blood, too.”

Blood...oh shit. The harpy wound – he must have gone too far in his retreat...? He was a little preoccupied at the time. “...well, obviously I was wounded. Made a mistake. It's not about to happen again.”

“No...it's not.”

Deep growls echo up between the buildings, and Kakashi finds himself outnumbered four to one, each taking a junction of the crossroad.

Still, he doesn't quite panic...yet. “...can you blame a half-dead wolf for stumbling where he shouldn't? I'd gladly make amends with Gin if I have to.”

“I'm afraid all he wanted was your snout beat into the pavement, lone one.”

Kakashi sighs. “...guess we'll have to give that a try...” Posture relaxed with a hip cocked, a hand in one pocket, there's a tick of silence as each side sizes up the other. Already he's at a disadvantage...three are shifted, the last being the one issuing the threat. It doesn't take long...but any time at all is going to be either a saving grace, or a death sentence. He's down in numbers, and in viable eyes.

…well, I'm not getting any younger.

Withdrawing his hand, he manages to toss the smoke bomb, disrupting both sight and smell. There's the telltale ripping of fabric, and then a snarl as he makes his way toward the only weak point: the one yet Shifted.

The distraction is just enough to give him an edge, and the grey finds a half-Shifted throat with his jaws. A clench, a crack, and one lays lifeless.

By now, the smoke's mostly cleared, and Kakashi spins to face the remaining three, head tilted to even out his one-sided vision. Pearlescent teeth are dyed red as he bares them, a steady stain of crimson  down his gullet. To the fore, a brown coat – left, blond, and right, black.

He's struck from the left first, as he knew he would be – the clouded eye is a dead giveaway. Turning to face it, he's double-teamed, his counter predicted as he's struck too from the right. A tail gives him just a moment as he biffs it against the righthand's face. Ducking beneath the left's jaws, Kakashi lifts his skull into the lower and smashes teeth together with force to shatter them...and cut off his tongue. A desperate whining sounds, and as that enemy recovers, he spins to face the right.

Recovered from the momentary blindness of his foe's tail in his face, the enemy snarls and lunges. Weight shifted, Kakashi sacrifices his shoulder, feeling flesh tear, but the meaty joint also providing the force to stopper the opponent’s momentum. Gripping the black pelt's ear, he rips it off for enough pain to stagger him before going for the throat. One attack won't down him, but it will slow him down.

By now, the brown leaps for his haunches, rolling over as Kakashi manages to sit for just a moment to put the end out of reach. Prancing from the black, he instead charges back toward the blond, recovered from his severed tongue and meeting him head-on. Jaws rack together, and Kakashi feints a rear to gain height. His foe falls for it, standing too tall and leaving his belly exposed. The lone wolf gives it an unmerciful clamp of his jaws and a bolt forward, knocking him over and reaping a fair flow of blood. It's followed by a grip on a back leg, snapping bones and leaving him crippled.

Bulk then carries him over the downed wolf, thrown and disoriented by the umber pelt. Legs tangle in a struggle to rise first, and he gets a kick in the throat that winds him. Breath wheezing for several draws, Kakashi snaps a few times before claiming a paw, refusing to give until most of the foot goes with him.

Getting feet beneath his foe, the grey manages to toss it back into the attacking black, stumbling him and buying the time to stand. The whines of the bleeding-out blond are distracting, and Kakashi waits to see where things lie thus far.

Pawless, the brown gives several pained cries as they disentangle themselves, unable to run without the foot. All the while, blood trails down Kakashi's shoulder, his throat sore but not yet an inhibition. He's getting tired...but he just might make it.

The darkest wolf is struggling for breath, Kakashi's prior grip on his throat a heavy factor. Lacking an ear, the other pins, lips lifted in a growl.

Knowing only one can charge, he taunts it out of the most mobile opponent, trying to sneak under and toss his weight. It works, but only partially, throwing the wolf's balance and knocking him into a wall. Following up, Kakashi rams his uninjured shoulder into their chest, cracking ribs before simply biting any hide he can reach.

Nearly completely unable to breathe between his chest and his throat, the black wolf collapses, his body demanding more oxygen in its stressed state than he can get.

Sure he won't get up again, Kakashi turns to the pawless remainder. To his honest surprise...ears wilt, and the last gracelessly collapses into a posture of surrender.

Panting and bleeding, Kakashi contemplates killing them before sprinting off, still fully Shifted.

So much for his delivery.

The smell of blood and the adrenaline in his veins make thinking difficult, but the further he goes, the clearer his mind gets.

If they knew he was there...if they tracked his scent...they found the woman.

Shit.

All decorum abandoned, he weaves through alleys and makes a beeline toward her apartments. It's too heavily populated for something brash, but wolves can find the patience to lie in wait in they must.

It's stupid. It's stupid to go looking for a human when an entire pack – let alone one the size of Gin's – is going to be not only looking for him and seeking his blood, but likely wanting to clear up any possible broken mandate by his visit. He shouldn't let one human life egg him on like this.

But a debt is a debt. Loner or not...he still has his own moral code. And that means not letting her die.

Stopping a block from the apartment complex, he Shifts back to human, making quick work of a lock and finding his way into some other human's abode. Clothes he finds aren't a perfect fit, but they'll work for now. There's a hiss at fabric over his shoulder, but he'll deal with that later. Random cologne is doused over him, trying to hide his scent.

Hopefully, he's still got some element of surprise. They likely expect him dead a dozen blocks away, so...maybe he can make it in, grab the woman, and get out before they realize who he is. He doesn't have a car, and something tells him she might not either, given her walking to find him when they first met. The only way they're outrunning wolves...is as a wolf.

He's going to break the utmost mandate...but he's stuck between a rock and a rather hard place. Enforcers might kill him later...but Gin wants him dead now.

Hiding beneath a hood, he leaves the infiltrated residence behind and instead crosses the street and making his way there. Nose bared to rely on his strongest scent (as clouded as it may be by human perfumes), his one good eye can't help but flicker to anything that moves. Somehow, by whatever grace, he makes it to the stairs, taking them two at a time until he finds her door.

Locked, but he can smell her inside. A knock, desperate – they're surely watching it.

A long pause as she surely just wakes up, a weary, “coming” sounding off from within. As soon as the knob turns, Kakashi makes his way inside, shutting it and putting a hand to her mouth.

Rin's umbers go wide, staring in surprise before narrowing, attempting to recognize him. “...?”

“I need you to be very quiet, and I need you to listen. Either you do, and we might get out of here alive...or we're both going to die.”

Another look of shock, but the nurse eventually gives a slow nod.

“Some people who call this place their territory know you helped me. I trespassed. They want me dead, and I'm sure they're here for you, too. I've already evaded several, but...we don't have time to argue.” A pause, weighing his options. He can claim simple gang violence, but...something tells him she won't be getting through this without seeing a wolf, one way or another.

“...I'm not what you think I am.”

“...I don't -?”

“No time for discussions.” Another hesitation. “...you're gonna see things you won't believe. But it's the only way you're getting out of this alive. And we have to go now. No time for packing, arguing...anything. Got it?”

Rin looks torn, but eventually gives a defeated shrug of her shoulders. “I...don't understand, but...fine. Let's go.”

“We can't go out the door – is there a window?”

“Fire escape, out the bedroom wi-”

“Let's go.” Taking her hand, Kakashi leads the human to the panes, tugging them open and stepping through first. “Now!”

Obviously unnerved in little more than pajamas, Rin does as asked, and gasps as Kakashi simply scoops her up. Ignoring ladders, he relies on jumping, falling distances that are certainly too far for a human.

Just behind them, the sound of a door being broken open reaches their ears.

The wolf swears under his breath. “Do you have a car?”

“No, I -?”

“Then we're running.” He sets her down, taking her shoulders and giving her a look. “...I need you to trust me.”

“...what choice do I have?”

“No, I...I'm going to scare you. But you have to ignore that fear, and let me carry you. It's the only way we're outrunning them.”

“...okay, fine!” Too frazzled to argue and too out of her element to know what else to do, Rin watches as Kakashi takes a step back, breathes...and then Shifts.

To her credit, she doesn't scream. But her eyes are as big as dinner plates, and her knees threaten to give way.

Catching her on his good shoulder, Kakashi looks over his back pointedly, clearly telling her to get on.

There's yells from the apartment, a head sticking out the window.

Glancing back, Rin freezes for only a moment before climbing atop the wolf's back and gripping hair for dear life.

And he runs.

Everything blurs as he pushes his limits, ignoring the complaining of his shoulder and streaking toward what he now realizes is the territory's edge. Being outside isn't much safer, but...it's better than nothing.

Rin buries her face in his shoulders, wind whipping and making her eyes water too much to sit up straight. He can feel her shaking, but at least she's not falling off.

He doesn't stop until they reach the outskirts of town. Less prime locations, and not truly held by any packs. They might run into other loners, but...those odds are still better.

Tongue lolling and chest heaving with breath, Kakashi eventually collapses, Rin still perched atop his spine before scrambling off.

She doesn't have words, staring back behind them in what looks like genuine shock. Silence save for Kakashi's harried breaths rings out for uncounted minutes.

Atop a pole, an owl screeches.

“...wolf territory. That's what you meant. Not...not a gang...a p...pack...?”

He ignores her rambling, not able to answer while shifted. At this point, he's not sure which would be more for her to deal with – a car-sized wolf, or a naked man.

“...your shoulder's bleeding. I don't...” Rin looks around, apparently trying to find something to stopper it.

He can't help a bark of a laugh.

“...Kakashi...?”

Breath a bit calmer, the wolf lifts his head to spot a vaguely familiar face, no name recalled to go with it. But it's clear enough by smell alone who and what he is: Uchiha. Vampire. Probably only recognizes him due to his old ties with Obito.

Looking between them warily, the man asks, “...what has happened here?” He draws a long coat from his shoulders, offering it to the Shifter and letting him find his voice.

“...long story.”

“...is she...?”

“What, can't you tell?”

“...I can...and yet...” The Uchiha shakes his head. “...you broke the mandate?”

“They were going to kill her. I owe her a debt. I've repaid it.”

“...have you thought past this point?”

Kakashi can't help a frustrated sigh. “...obviously not.”

Taking both their images in, the man doesn't reply.

“Are...are you...like him?” Rin manages to ask, pointing.

“...not exactly. Are you all right, miss?”

“...I really don't know. I think...I think I'm just...”

“At least you're not screaming,” Kakashi offers dryly.

“...s-sure.”

“We have an outpost not far from here. It will allow you two to get out of the open. And you can tell me what on earth you've gotten yourself into.”

“...if you insist.”

“This way, miss – if you please.”

Managing to find his feet, Kakashi brings up the rear, still alert for anything out of place.

“It's not much, but...there's basic supplies, including clothes. There may be some that fit you. I shall see about finding some first aid,” the Uchiha offers, glancing between woman and wolf before giving them the room.

Without ceremony, Kakashi collapses atop a couch, exhaling.

Silence.

“W...what...?”

“I know you're completely and utterly rattled, Rin. I know,” Kakashi mumbles, an arm tossed over his eyes. “But I just ran across half a city after fighting three of my own kind...I'm a little beat for explanations.”

“Perhaps I can handle that part.” Lifting a first aid kid, the stranger finally offers, “You may call me Itachi, by the way.”

“Don't bother – I can't keep all you Uchiha straight, anyway...”

The vampire can't help a chuckle. “Well, at least I recognized you. Otherwise you'd probably have been killed.” Sitting and attending to the wolf's shoulder, Itachi glances to Rin. “...you should sit, miss.”

She does as asked. “...so...”

“Given that the first mandate has been...completely disregarded, I see no harm in telling you,” Itachi cuts in, tone exasperated. “Clearly, you've seen that Kakashi is a werewolf. Just as I'm a vampire. And now, you're a human who has been exposed to what we affectionately call the Nightwalker world. In other words...all of the monsters you humans write your thrillers about. Now, Kakashi...mind telling me why she's suddenly got her eyes open?”

“That was hardly an adequate explanation...”

“No, but what else can I say? Time is short, and there's little need to overwhelm her with flowery words. She gets the gist, I'm certain.”

The wolf sighs. “...got into it with a harpy a few days back. Ended up in claimed territory. She's a nurse...found me, patched me up. Alpha found out, sent foot soldiers after me...and her. I managed to skin by them, and got her out.” A pause. “...I couldn't leave her there. She saved my life, and I was going to do the same.”

“Yes, well...we, at the very least, know your feelings about leaving a friend behind. Do you know what happens to humans who see a Nightwalker?”

“...never dealt with it. So no.”

“Either they're brainwashed into believing it to be a dream, a drug-induced hallucination...or otherwise. Or, if that doesn't work, they're occasionally executed to protect the mandate. Alongside those they saw. There are rare cases of them being Turned to create a loophole – a human can't have been exposed if they're no longer human, but...well, you can guess why that's frowned upon.”

Kakashi sighs, and Rin just...stares, apparently still too out of it to fully comprehend.

“...so, there are odds of her getting out of this alive, but...they are not entirely pretty.”

“You expect me to have just left her there?”

“...can't really say for sure. The first mandate is a grave matter, Kakashi. If anyone finds out...you're going to be killed. There's no two ways about it.”

“You gonna turn me in?”

“No...but if they want to, that pack you tussled with might. They can put two and two together, I'm certain.”

“...well...damn.”

Finished with his patch job, Itachi gives the wolf a long, hard look. “...we still remember what you did for Obito. So...you are safe with us. We're not about to turn you in, and we might even lend you a hand. But...though I have a rather high place in our coven, I can't say for sure. I can, however, bring the matter up and see how the others react. See what they want to do.”

“...until then?”

“Until then...you can lay low here. We'll figure something out. But it's best you disappear for a while.”

“What about...?”

Both look to Rin.

“What about...me? I...I have class in like...an hour.”

Unbidden, Itachi chuckles. “Well...I'm afraid you're going to have to miss it. If I may...?”

“...Rin.”

“...Rin. I realize how serious this is, and how...utterly confused you must be. But right now, I need you to focus on the fact that you're alive. Kakashi is right: you wouldn't be if he hadn't interfered. Granted...he's made a bit of a mess. But at least an innocent life wasn't lost tonight.”

Outside, light begins to tinge the horizon, and the Uchiha sighs.

“I'd best get going...it's getting late. You should be safe here – I'm sure it reeks enough like vampire, no wolf will be willing to come this far. Still...I've got eyes outside, just in case. I would stay myself, but...I'd best see about our next move.” Standing, he gives them each a nod. “Stay out of trouble. We'll see how this goes.”

“Itachi...?”

“Hm?”

“...how'd you know I was here?”

“I happened to be in the area. And...a certain pair of airborne eyes spotted you. Let me know you were here.”

The wolf perks a brow, but Itachi offers no further explanation. Instead, he seems to melt into the shadows...and disappears.

Once they're alone, Kakashi struggles with himself before looking to Rin. “...sorry for all the fuss.”

“...well...better a little fuss than a lotta dead...right?” Still looking shaken, the human manages a smile, though it looks a bit...disconnected. “...I'm...I'm not sure I quite...get it all yet, but...like you said: no screaming.” A pause. “...I feel like I'm in some dumb teen romance book about...vampires, and...werewolves.”

“...there's teen romance books about that?”

“Oh trust me...you don't want to know. Movies, too.”

“...well, this isn't a movie. But...if it helps you keep from losing your head...act away.”

Silence blooms again before Rin breaks it. “...I guess I haven't really said...thank you yet.”

“Don't.”

“...but...?”

“You're not out of the woods yet. And it was my fault you got mixed up in this in the first place.”

“...but you said it yourself. If I hadn't found you...then you'd be dead.”

“And you never would have known to worry about it. Believe me, I'm not one to be missed.”

“I don't -!”

“No offense, but...you don't know me, Rin. Not really a call you can make yet.”

Arms cross. “...well, at the very least...you saved me when you didn't have to. For now...that's good enough for me.”

The wolf sighs. “...we'll argue that point later. For now, I've got a fight and a flight to rest up from. Don't leave the house, okay?”

“...don't plan on it, believe me.”

“...good.”

Too unnerved to truly sleep, Kakashi merely dozes, listening as Rin takes to wandering the sequestered house. True to her word, she never leaves it, contenting herself rather well to just...idling. But eventually the wolf realizes he's not accomplishing much, and sits up.

“...so, uh...can I ask you something?”

“I'd imagine you have several somethings to ask me. Fire away – we're not going anywhere for a while.”

For a moment, Rin collects her thoughts. “...how, uh...how big is this whole...world, thing?”

“The Nightwalker world?”

“Yeah, I guess that's what you called it.”

“Hard to say for sure. I'm certain the Senate has tabs on populations, but...I'm rather clueless.”

“Is it just...werewolves and vampires? Oh...I guess the turkey was a thing, though...”

Kakashi can't help a chuckle. “There's all sorts. The turkey was a harpy, not sure what breed. Then there's more werecreatures than wolves. Bears, cats...”

“Cats?”

A brow perks. “...yeah. Weres tend to be large predator species. Including cats.”

Rin blinks, expression attentive. “...huh.”

“...anyway, there's a myriad of species, and then breeds within those. Like your...werecats. Tigers, lions, bobcats, on and on. All sorts of birds when it comes to harpies. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“And humans really have no idea...?”

“Well...they're not supposed to.” The wolf leans back with a sigh. “...see, several hundred years ago, a few powerful Nightwalkers got together, formed a Senate. First was in Europe. Other continents soon followed. Each country, and each specie, gets a representative. They govern us...including making laws. The most important, obviously, is making sure humans live their lives unaware we exist. There are some who do...mostly associated with religious fanatics who live to hunt us as abominations. But otherwise, we're like two sides of a coin. Not suppose to be able to see both at one time.”

A long pause. “...will they really kill you?”

“If they find out? It's more than likely. There's many laws, but that's by far the most important, and the most severely punished for being broken. Breaches of that mandate could lead to open war between humans and Nightwalkers again.”

“What if I said I wouldn't tell anyone?”

At that, Kakashi outright laughs. “It's not that simple. In any case, you can't be allowed to remember. One of those options Itachi mentioned will have to be used...just a matter of which one.”

Rin goes quiet again, thinking.

“...anyway...for now, there's no use worrying about it. Just gotta buckle down until we hear back. You should get some sleep.” He's not fond of being stuck behind four walls, but...for now, he's little choice.

“I'm not tired.”

“But you will be. Rest now, cuz we might have to run later.”

For a moment she stares stubbornly, but eventually concedes. “Wake me if anything happens.”

“If anything does, I'm sure you'll hear it,” is Kakashi's dry reply. Watching her disappear into the house's only room with a bed, he contents himself with sinking back into the couch.

At least Rin is alive.

Now, it's just a matter of keeping her that way.

     SORRY this took so long, I’m so behind on things =‘D Basically a slight continuation of what we managed to RP because Kakashi up and left me. I dunno if it makes any sense, and wow that combat scene was a nightmare, BUT I hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless xD      Rin becoming a werecat of some kind to make use of the loophole, tho :3c Also you might have spotted a wee harpy in the background at some points, lol - I need to write more of this. I need to write more of a lot of things OTL      ANYWAY. Here’s your gifty. Sorry it’s late. And thanks for being a follower and all that jazz x3 I’m totally not rushing these author’s notes to post it, haha xD