#i'm putting in the Effort of trying to not stab my own thread and also come up on the Other Side of the thread

[kaerran]

nearly eleven years in and i only have ~45 rows left.... of back and forth and back and forth.......

[zizygy]

darkolai, “Just please be my best friend right now, not the guy I just confessed my love to.” ;) Bonus if they're actually worst enemies.

I'm such a mess I wrote one and a half whole scenes and STILL didn't get to the quote so I'm just going to drop the complete scene XD at least the confession is here Nikolai Sun Summoner AU uh important context, The Darkling is being tried for his crimes as the Black Heretic and he gets a little bitty triggered --

Shadow blades stick out of every surface. The deck, the Reader of Sins, the Sun Summoner cult leader and almost everyone unfortunate enough to be on the stage. The audience had escaped the worst of it but Nikolai had jumped onto the stage and now…

Shadow knives, with their handles trembling just like a real dagger would, splayed out from his stomach, arms… he might be okay, it wouldn’t be the first time Aleksander stabbed him, except there was also one in his throat.

“I love him,” he said again, terrified that his previous protest had been forgotten in the violence. “Stop-” he would have said Stop the trial but blood poured out of his mouth and out of his throat with every attempted word.

His eyes met Aleksander’s and he understood immediately. The blown pupils, deathly pallor, complete stillness even though the metal chains holding him down had been bent and warped. Soldier’s heart. He wasn’t here. Nikolai needed to get to him.

Though the cult had offered their best healer, Nikolai’s hands were nothing like they should be. His fingers shook - something not helped by the blood loss - and he needed to make his summoning symbols almost three times as big as usual to summon half the power. His hands sizzled against his ruined throat but it wasn’t enough. He was going to bleed out and die right here in front of Sasha. He made a pathetic sound, something that might have been an apology or a plea, then he was overwhelmed by darkness.

Aleksander ran to Nikolai’s side. He couldn’t just banish the shadow daggers, as much as he wanted to, because they were plugging the many many wounds he’d inflicted on the man. He fell to his knees and pulled Nikolai into his lap, hoping against hope that the wounds looked worse than they were, that Nikolai was being his dramatic self.

But Aleksander had seen death and he recognized it in front of him. A healer wouldn’t get here fast enough to save Nikolai. He’d lose his sun summoner.

Unless he did something about it.

Before all this sun summoner business, he’d returned to his experiments with merzost. He’d been trying to make soldiers out of nothing, but the Making always demanded something in return. He realized that he needed to give it a body. A life. He’d shelved that particular project.

But here was a body, a life Nikolai, bleeding to death in front of him.

Between this and the ache of losing his daughter, he hardly needed to pull to unravel himself. There were the physical wounds from his trial, but deeper than that, his soul was frayed. It took very little effort to reach in and pull a few of those strands away. They became physical in his hand, long and thin and shining in a way that shadows didn’t.

He opened Nikolai’s mouth and put one strand in it, then pressed - ripping reality slightly - into Nikolai’s chest, until he could feel that brightly glowing soul. He wasn’t sure how the man could ever have doubted what he was when his soul shined like burnished gold, though it was rapidly fading and fraying.

Aleksander didn’t try to grab those threads, he just wove his own shadows into the golden fabric. Once the first was in, it became child’s play to continue to weave, to patch Nikolai’s life with shadows, until they started to flow around his body and patch up the wounds.

He doesn’t stop until Nikolai’s chest rises and falls on its own. Then he wraps his arms around his sun summoner. Let the cult think what they will. That he has a heart or that he’s manipulating Nikolai or that even this is part of his plan, he doesn’t care. Let Nikolai hate him when he wakes, for now he runs his hand through the man’s hair and holds him close.

[amostimprobabledream]

And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) - Part One

They say humans, in a strange, ironic twist of fate, owe their magic to demons. A thousand years ago, they walked the earth, wreaking destruction and chaos wherever they tread. Humans were no more than meat for the slaughter, or glorified playthings for their amusement. The first generation of humans to fight back against their monstrous oppressors did so by a peculiar, ancient magic. A power that could repel demons and bring hope to all humanity. A terrible war raged for the fate of the world and the humans managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The demons were banished to their land of origin, sealed away in defeat. But seals don't last forever. While historians argue on how literal these legends may be, there is no denying that ancient creature have begun to stir, appearing in our world again with growing frequency. And soon there might- The last paragraph was torn away. "Oh, for god's sake," you tsk. Sunlight pours through the large, high window of your lecture room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Though you were engrossed in your book, once you look up, the spell is broken, and the clear sky outside once again has your eyes wandering to it. It seems that you are not the only one getting distracted, either - even the professor keeps tapering off at the promise of an afternoon outside in the gorgeous spring weather. "Well," the professor says, shuffling the papers in front of her. "That's all for today. Please revise over the material and we'll discuss it in further detail next time. You are all free to go." You're only too happy to comply, putting your things away and scrambling to your feet. Everyone else is hurrying to get outside, pouring down the stairs to the doors, chattering to one another as they go. Normally you love going to lectures, but it's just too nice outside to be cooped up indoors. You push open the doors and step outside, a muted sigh of pleasure leaving your mouth. Your university, the Royal Academy of Magic, has the reputation for being tough, but so far, you've been enjoying the work. Learning about the different faces of magic, its uses, and the history of it, it's all so very fascinating to you. You've been able to use magic since you were young, but it's studying it here that will really help you unlock your true potential, and hopefully give you a concrete idea of what to aim for with your career. So far there are so many options a magic-user might do that it's been a little overwhelming trying to decide. As you cross the lawns, grass crunching beneath your feet, you decide to swing by your dorm first to drop off your books - they may contain a lot of knowledge, but damn if they're not heavy - your mother pointed out that you've developed something of a slouch since you started studying here. "I'm back!" you call as you push open the door of your dormitory. "Huh?" Kendou looks up from her bed, where she has a couple of books sprawled out next to her head, notes scribbled in the margins of her notebook as she looks over her textbook. Her red hair spills down her shoulder, coming loose from its signature ponytail. "You're back early!" "Yeah, they let us out sooner than I expected," you reply with a shrug and a small laugh, dropping your bag on your own bed and stretching, wincing as a kink in your shoulder pops. "Oh, well, that's good timing, someone came by earlier with a message for you," Kendou says, pushing herself up into a sitting position, apparently deciding your arrival is a good a reason as any to take a break from studying. "Your mother wants you to go down to the Imperial Research Centre to get your father." "Did she come by here?" you ask in surprise. Normally your mother arranges to meet you after lectures or seminars if she wants to see you during the week, and she's a rather busy woman besides. "No, she left a message at the front desk and someone passed it along," Kendou shrugs. "But she also said you guys are doing something tonight, right?" "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that!" you say, feeling silly that it could

possibly have slipped your mind - you love it when you get to go out for a meal with your parents and often it means one of them has some exciting news to share. "Thanks, Kendou, I'll head over there now." She grins and gives a little wave. “No problem!” You suppose it's fortunate that the Imperial Research Centre is only a short walk from the campus and that you're very familiar with the place, since your father's been working there for so long. Anyway, it's a pleasant walk, the way there is lined with rows of trees that are only a week or two away from growing from dark to light pink and shedding their blossoms. When the street is in full bloom, it's like there's been a wedding. You even find yourself humming as you walk, breathing in the subtle smell of flowers on the breeze, wondering to yourself if the blossom trees were planted before or after the buildings were founded, but either way, whoever was responsible for them made a good call. The Imperial Research Centre is a peculiar building, made of blue stone and with a roof that boasts four conical points, one in each corner, making it resemble a castle from bygone days just plopped in the middle of the city. There's an aura of mystery to it, too, hinting at the all-important, life-changing work that’s always going on inside. If ever cutting-edge technology is released to the public, odds were that the Centre had a hand in making it. The building is cooler on the inside than it is outdoors, powered by a system designed to spread cool or warm air throughout the entire building, depending on the system. You approach the front desk, wishing that you'd thought to bring a jacket, because it’s always cold in here during the warm seasons, and the receptionist glances up on you with a slightly dismissive expression on her face. It's probably because she thinks you're an overeager student or some hapless intern, it's very rare a researcher your age would be able to work here. "May I help you?" the receptionist asks in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, I'm here to see my father," you reply. "He's one of the vice executives here." You give his surname, and the woman pauses. Is that a trace of nervousness you can see? "He's downstairs in Containment Room 1A," she says, checking a sheet of paper on the desk, which is littered with various papers, random pieces of stationary and one of those magitech intercom systems that they use. They have something similar at the Academy too, though of course, the Centre get the most high-tech version of everything. "All right, thanks," you say, turning to head for the elevator. "Wait!" the woman cries out and you glance back, confused. "I'm sorry, but you can't just walk through here, especially to the lower levels! You don't have the clearance and it can be dangerous." You scoff in disbelief. You have visited your father here before, many times, and this has never been a problem for you before. You always just tell them who you are and then get a visitor's pass. You even know some of the codes to the doors, thanks to waiting around for your father to finish work so often. "Well, please can you have someone go fetch him for me?" you ask, going to reluctantly perching on one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Can't it wait?" the receptionist asks impatiently, and maybe it can, but her attitude is starting to piss you off, so you shoot her a frosty smile you've perfected after watching your mother pull a similar face at people who don't meet her standards. "No, it can't." The woman sighs but she dutifully presses a button on the intercom system and speaks quietly into it for a moment or two, while you idly pick at a loose thread on the chair you're sitting on. She then glances back at you, eyebrows raised. "A messenger has been sent down to speak to him. Hopefully he should be upstairs shortly." "Thank you so much." you reply sweetly, the last words with heavy emphasis. After that, the two of you sit in a mutually frosty silence, with the woman sorting through paperwork on her desk and occasionally

directing people who approach her desk to the correct floor (which seems redundant to you - why can't people just read the clearly printed sign on the wall next to her desk ?), while you flick through some glossy magazines without actually taking in a single word. But you're not leaving until you've spoken to your father. Minutes tick by and you start drumming your heel lightly on the floor, leg jiggling with impatience. You wonder if the woman just lied about sending a messenger down to the Containment Room in an effort to pacify you, in the hopes you'll just get bored and leave. You grit your jaw at the thought, ignoring how cold you're getting, sitting here doing nothing. After maybe ten minutes, a man in a lab coat approaches the front desk, leaning over to speak to the woman. "Kino, could you come with me a moment? Hannah can start her shift." "Oh, I'll be right there!" Kino says, flustered, getting out from behind the desk and following the man as he walks briskly down the corridor, without a backwards glance at you. No doubt her replacement will be along any moment - perhaps she's running late? But you don't plan on sticking around. As soon as the receptionist rounds the corner, out of sight, you spring up and walk briskly across the room to the elevators, stabbing the button and stepping through the doors. You don't bother to fight the smile that spreads across your face as the doors slide shut. ~ "Father?" There's always something slightly creepy about the lower floors. The orbs lining the walls that are designed to keep the machinery running in case of a power shortage cast an eerie glow in the corridors, washing everything with a pale blue light that makes it seem far colder than it actually is. It reminds you a bit of walking through a tunnel of ice. Your boots click on the stone floor as you follow the lights to Containment Room A1. Finally, you reach the double doors leading inside, flanked by two windows each side. You can see your father inside, his back to you, so you rap on the windows. Nothing. You try again with more force, hurting your knuckles, but he still doesn't turn around. Perhaps it's soundproofed, so whatever's out here can't disturb whatever's going on in there? You glance at the keypad next to the doors, but you've never been to this particular room before so the code for the doors on the upper level is unlikely to be the same one for down here. Then you see movement, shadows beneath the crack between door and floor, and the doors slide open with a mechanical swish and two scientists in lab coats come out, comparing notes and murmuring together excitedly. You slip inside before they can slam shut again, unwilling to stand outside in the chilly corridor for any longer than necessary. "Father!" you call out as you enter. But then you stop dead in your tracks. Ahead of you, trapped behind some kind of containment field...is a monster. "What-?!" you hear your father say in surprise at his daughter suddenly marching through the doors. "What are you doing in here?!" But you don't answer. You can't look away from what's in front of you, even if you wanted to. You know without being told that this is a demon, but it's certainly not what they looked like in any of your history books. A tall, humanoid being that is undoubtedly male and you can tell from where you’re standing that he’s tall. The demon's huge, black wings arch out from behind him, reminding you of a bat. Two horns jut out from a crown of spiky black hair, but aside from that, you're surprised by how… human he looks. Your cheeks warm up as you notice he is shirtless, peculiar burn marks covering over half of his body and seemingly crudely stitched together like a patchwork doll. Despite that, he's impressively sculpted, sinewy muscles on full display and you know that demons were said to be uncommonly strong. Your eyes drift further down, and you spot a whiplike tail wrapped around one leg, topped with a pointed barb at the end, like a club in a game of cards. His arms are in restraints and so are his

ankles, yet he doesn't seem stressed in any way, leaning against the back wall of his holding cell as though he's waiting for something. "What...is this?" you breathe out, finally turning to your father. "This is our latest research subject," your father replies beside you, also staring at the demon, though his expression is surprisingly somber, considering just how amazing it is that they have been able to capture and contain a demon. You've never seen a live demon before, and something tells you that the one before you certainly isn't any garden variety one. "Director Fuji is very excited about this. It's not every day you see a demon this high ranking." Slowly, the demon stirs, raising his head a little. You're perfectly safe outside the containment field, as well was the multiple other safety measures both inside the cell and out of it, yet the sensation of being watched makes your flesh break out in goosebumps. From beneath spiky fronds of hair, the demon's eyes - so blue they almost don't look real - stare right at you, his gaze alone rooting you to the spot, laying all your defenses bare and leaving you feeling bizarrely naked before that look. Watching you without once blinking or breaking his gaze, his lips part in a sneer to reveal two rows of teeth, the fangs sharp and white as an icicle. You find yourself holding your breath as your father speaks again. "Sweetheart, meet Dabi."