#is this pt better? yes. am I expecting it to magically cure my pain? no and neither is anyone else!

[nope-body]

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[hitsuackerman]

A Different Hashira (Giyu x Reader) pt 1

At age 10, (Y/N) (L/N) became one of the first Hashira's along side her mentor Sakonji Urokodaki.

However, despite the honor of becoming a Hashira, she does not see herself fit for the title. Only Urokodaki and Ubuyashiki know about her breathing style.

10 years have passed since that faithful day. Now that the Hashira's have grown into 10, she starts to open up to her fellow demon slayers. One of the newer Hashira's catch her attention. The one with the mismatched haori.

-I do not own Kimetsu no Yaiba. None of the characters nor story do not belong to me. -I will try to incorporate some scenes of the anime ;)

-this is also in ao3/quotev/wattpad :)

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You slowly sheathed your sword back to it's scabbard.

It was a full moon tonight and you admired the silence the forest had to offer. Each chirp the crickets produced, the sound of a nearby river flowing with nature, and a random owl hooting in the distance effectively calmed you.

Still gripping the handle of your Nichirin blade, you reminded yourself to regain control of your slightly trembling body. It took a considerable amount of effort but you managed to take control and used full focused breathing once more.

Feeling that your senses were now tranquil, you opened your eyes. In front of you were the remains of seven demons. All had their heads severed. Save for one of which you ended up disintegrating. But that was your goal so it was alright. Blood stains were now present in your haori. Your haori had absorbed a decent amount causing it to droop a bit.

Tonight's one on one training was rather... unique. Instead of using nature, Urokodaki decided to take you into the woods to see how far you had developed your breathing style.

"You seem to have trained behind my back, (Y/N)."

You hadn't noticed that he was now beside you. Both of you now staring at the full moon.

"The blade hates being sedentary."

The moon cast a yellowish glow to the rocks and grass. Whatever demon you had slain, they were now non-existent. A gentle breeze embraced the two of you. In your own absurd way, you liked to think that the wind was the way of demons saying thank you for releasing them from the curse given to them. Whether it's true or not, you didn't really care.

"Shall we head back?"

Heading back to the water estate, the comfortable silence between you and your teacher got cut with a messenger raven.

"It still perplexes me how you managed to convince Ubuyashiki-sama to give you a raven and not a crow." Urokodaki commented with a hint of pride in his voice. You were one of his protege's and being given a privilege to care for a different messenger bird was a small accomplishment.

"(Y/N) (L/N) to report to Ubuyashiki-sama."

"Even managed to train it to talk calmly. As expected nonetheless." He gently patted your head. "I will be fine on my own, proceed with utmost caution (Y/N)."

Without waiting for a reply, you watched your teacher walk towards your home. His light blue kimono glistened a silvery hue once the clouds showed the moon's presence once more.

"Leggo, Karasutori."

Nipping on your palm once, Karasutori took flight and lead you to the Ubuyashiki manor.

Though the distance wasn't too great, it took a good 30 minutes of walking (granted you got lost). When you finally arrived, you were greeted with his children. Despite people claiming them to look magical, in your head, you still saw them as creepy. The way their gigantic eyes would stare at you always put you on edge. Thankfully, Ubuyashiki-sama has the Soothing Voice.

Tea was served as you waited for the 97th leader to arrive. Fiddling with the chains at the of your handle, you only noticed that each chain had a red glossy finish.

"Good evening, (Y/N)."

"Ubuyashiki-sama." You gave him a bow. Looking at his face sent pain through your veins. You had made it a personal mission to somehow find a cure to his curse. Though you had no clue as to how, yet.

"I see you have quickly mastered your breathing style."

"Not all ten yet, Ubuyashiki-sama. The 9th and 10th are a bit difficult, but nothing too much to handle."

"Sakonji-kun has taught you well."

Simply nodding, you shifted a bit in your seat. In all honesty, you were tired from the training session. You started from morning and barely took any rest.

"What is my purpose here, Ubuyashiki-sama?"

"I have heard and seen your abilities, (Y/N). You see, my foresight has shown me that you will achieve many in the near future." Taking a sip of his tea, he stared at you through his blank lavender eyes. "It is about time you become a Hashira."

"Huh?" Taken aback by his statement, your jaw hung loosely as you processed what he had just told you.

"Become a Hashira, (Y/N). You have all the skills and mastery to be one. I have already informed Sakonji-kun. It is now up to you to grab the opportunity or reap another future."

"I would love to... But my breathing style, Ubuyashiki-sama. It's not suited to be a pillar."

"Nonsense."

"Can I still live with Urokodaki-sensei?"

"For the time being you may, but in due time, you will have to live in your own estate."

The picture of having your own estate boggled your mind. The estate would probably be dark and empty as hell.

"Alright. If it brings calm to your foresight, then I will agree."

As a token of his appreciation, he instructed Kiriya to get a box from his personal quarters. When Kiriya arrived, he held onto a rectangular box. The box was matte black tied together by a gold ribbon. The tips of the ribbon were raggedly cut and stained with black. You couldn't help but smile at the beauty.

With the box in front you, you carefully pulled on the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Inside was a haori. It had a geometrical pattern consisting of red, white and black. The hems were lined black. Lifting it up, you could feel how soft the material was. It was far better than the haori you had on. This one felt luxurious.

Taking your haori off, you carefully folded it and placed it beside you. It was only now you saw just how battered and blood stained it was due to the light of the room. Embarrassment entered your system till you wore the new haori.

In an instant, you felt calm and collected. Whatever thoughts than ran through your head slowed down. It felt as if a huge burden was taken from your shoulders.

"Ahh, you can feel it."

"Is this supposed to happen?"

"Only to that one. That haori of yours is a special one. I specifically made that for you. It's calming, is it not?"

"What if I outgrow this?"

"Inform Amane. She will make one tailored to your height."

This time, you couldn't contain the smile anymore. You continuously thanked and bowed to the leader till he excused you from his manor.

The journey back to the water estate felt surreal. This morning you were nothing but a 10 year old trainee under Urokodaki. Now, you were a Hashira. Running now, you couldn't wait to feel the happiness of your mentor. He had raised you and taught you everything you had to know despite not being able to use Water breathing techniques.

By the time you reached the estate, you could smell the aroma of soup coming from the building. Opening the doors, you were met with the familiar red mask and a bowl ready for you.

"You make me proud, (Y/N)..."

With a pounding heart, you ran towards your mentor and gave him a gratifying embrace. This was not a shock to the masked man since he knew you saw him as a father figure. Patting your back, he could feel the sense of calm engulfing the two of you. Realizing what their master had done, caused him to hum in content.

Letting go of your teacher and waiting for the soup to be served, you fiddled with your haori. Even your blade felt much lighter and clearer.

After finishing dinner, Urokodaki motioned you to follow him to the patio.

The sound of the river was relaxing as ever. The cool breeze that swept your faces, occasional frogs croaking in the distance, and the sound of the cackling fire made things fall into place.

"(Y/N)."

"Yes, Urokodaki-sensei?"

"I am stepping down as a Hashira."

You weren't surprised. After being with him for a good 4 years, you could somehow read his actions. He wasn't too keen on the Hashira lifestyle. If given the option, he would rather live by the woods and chop trees. He did mention he would still train but only if he sees the person fit. Though you were not going to deny, it caused a bit of sadness on your part.

"I understand. Will you still train me if I ask?"

"Of course. You are the exception."

"Where will you go?"

For a moment, only the sound of the rushing waters could be heard.

"I am not sure yet, but I shall send my crow when I settle."

Nodding your head, you stood up and excused yourself. Leaving your teacher to ponder on his thoughts. Exchanging good nights, you silently closed your door and flopped to your futon. Loneliness slowly taking over you.

Dragging your futon near your window, you took in the moonlight. It usually managed to soothe your insomnia. 

Though you didn't really mind, you decided that it was time for you to better know who the others were.

One main reason why you chose not to was due to the fact that you were too young and they seemed to be coming and going. Ever since you received Karasutori, you had recieved multpile announcements saying that this hashira had perished in a mission. It just grew to you to avoid the unwanted pain of losing someone you know.

Sleep finally took the best of you.

Waking up with the rays of sunlight blessing your face, you exited your room only to find breakfast ready. Along with a note slipped under the bowl of rice.

You were alone once again.

Knowing that sulking wouldn't make a significant change, you ate your food and took a bath right after.

Taking a piece of paper, you scribbled a small note and attached it to Karasutori.

"Send this to Tecchikawahara. If you make it back in 3 days, I'll give you mochi."

"Bribes. Always with bribes." Your raven replied before speeding his way out. "Make it 3!"

Grabbing your haori and blade, you slowly made your way to the common training grounds. It's time you finally acquanited yourself with the others.

[swanqueeneverafter]

56. III-Boding Patterns, Pt.3

Storybrooke. Forest. (All is quiet in the forest, save for the sound of an owl hooting. Then, with a thunderous explosion, a hole is punched through the middle of a tree. Stepping out first, Emma dusts herself down and offers her hand to Regina.) Emma: “Regina? Are you okay?” Regina: (Coughing, nods:) “Well, that was a first.” Emma: (Smirks:) “Travelling via magical wardrobe? Eh, after the you’ve done it once, it gets a little old.” Regina: (Smiles:) “Agreed. (Glances back at the tree:) Since we went in together, do you think someone could follow us?” Emma: “I don’t think so. I mean, if that world was created for me, and I’m no longer there, does it still even exist?” Regina: (Teasingly:) “Wow, someone’s pretty full of herself.” Emma: “Hey, come on, you know what I meant.” Regina: (Chuckles:) “Yeah, you’re probably right. (Checks her wrist:) Look, the cuffs Rumplestiltskin put on us are gone. (Conjures a fireball just to check, then douses it:) Come on, lets go find Henry.” (They head back towards Storybrooke, leaving the smouldering tree behind them. After a few moments, the forest slowly returns to its eerie silence, before another explosion is heard. Returning to the tree, we see Dr. Facilier now standing where Emma and Regina were, dusting himself off. Straightening himself up, he walks away, alone.)

Storybrooke. Main Street. (Regina and Emma walk down main street when Emma once again has flashes of her vision run through her head.) Gideon: (Standing behind them:) “Savior. (As they turn to face him:) I've been waiting.” Regina: “Who are you?” Gideon: “My name is Gideon.” Emma: “I only know one Gideon. He looks a lot younger than you do. What do you want?” (Gideon sneers then raises his arm, freezing Regina in place with his magic. Turning his full attention to Emma, he lunges at her with his sword and they begin to duel. Gideon soon gains the upper hand by kicking Emma in the stomach, sending her down. Emma rallies and rolls through, able to defend herself from Gideon’s downward thrust. Pushing him away, Emma manages to regain her footing before Gideon knocks Emma’s sword out of her hand. Catching it in his left hand, Gideon uses his magic to get rid of his own sword, preferring to use Emma’s instead. At this moment, David and Henry run towards them.) Henry: “Mom!” David: “Emma!” Emma: “Stay back!” (Belle and Mr. Gold also arrive.) Mr. Gold: “Gideon! Wait!” Belle: “You don't have to do this.” Emma: “It's okay. I'm not gonna let him hurt anyone.” 

(Gideon raises his arm once more and freezes his parents, David and Henry also.) Gideon: “I'm not going to hurt them, (Pointing the sword at her:) just you. (Emma’s hand begins to shake:) Ready to die, Savior?” Emma: (Determined:) “I am fated to die, and I will die. (Emma stops her hand from shaking and it begins to glow with her magic:) But not today.” (Emma uses her magic to blast Gideon across the street, knocking the sword from his hand, shattering it. Running over to him, Emma picks up a shard of the sword and holds it against his neck.) Gideon: (Defiantly:) “I'm still going to kill you.”

Mr. Gold: (Still immobilised:) “Please. (Emma glances up at him:) He's my son.” Gideon: (Angered by this:) “I don't need your help!” (Gideon uses his magic to disappear in a cloud of smoke, his hold over the others, broken.) Henry: (Running over to her:) “Mom! You did it!” (Emma hugs both Regina and Henry tightly to her.) Regina: (Sighs:) “You're amazing, Emma.” David: (Stroking her hair:) “Thank God you're alive.” Emma: (Turning towards him:) “You, too, Dad. You, too. (Glances at Regina:) Really. Thank you.” (Mr. Gold and Belle walk away in opposite directions.) Regina: “What happened here? Was that really Gold and Belle's baby?” David: “We'll fill you in later. Hopefully, he won't be back for a while.” Gepetto & August’s Home. Garage. (August sits at his desk typing, as Emma enters.) Emma: “Whoa. I could hear you all the way down the street. I wasn't sure if I should expect a typewriter or a tommy gun.” August: “Well, I work out here so Papa can sleep.” Emma: “Did you know? When I was a kid and you told me to go to the police station, did you know it was me?” August: (Stands, smiling:) “Of course I knew it was you. I kept tabs on you for a while. I knew you didn't belong on the streets. I just had to make sure you knew it, too.” Emma: “Thanks. (Placing a box on the table, opens it:) I, uh, kept the pages.” (Hands them to August.) August: “Hmm. You know, when you picked Swan, it made me happy. I figured it meant that you got it. That you were on your way to becoming the person that you wanted to be.” Emma: “I don't know if I totally got it. I don't know if I still do. But I think I'm on my way to believing I can make my own destiny.” August: “Well, belief is the first step.”

Storybrooke Wishing Well. (Belle stands looking down into the wishing well as Mr. Gold joins her.) Mr. Gold: (Approaching:) “Making a wish?” Belle: “I better not. My hopes and plans don't turn out like I want them to. No matter what I do, who I trust.” Mr. Gold: “I understand the feeling.” Belle: “Do you? 'Cause, I mean, clearly you wanted to keep him tied to this horrible fate, and you succeeded.” Mr. Gold: “I wanted his life to take its natural course. (Leans on the well beside her:) He still has the power to change his choices, like the Savior's doing. But using the Shears would have robbed him of that. And, yes, I was gonna use them on him before, but I was wrong.” Belle: “And you think he'll make the right choices now?” Mr. Gold: “No. But I hope he still may. I know you don't believe that's what I want, Belle, but it's true. When Baelfire rejected my magic, I respected it. I just wasn't brave enough to follow it. My whole dark life, I've sought out those who are light, like you.” Belle: “So, what, you don't want him to kill Emma?” Mr. Gold: “No, I don't. That would be an irrational act of someone so blind with pain they think they're reaching for the cure when, in fact, it's just more poison. I know. I've done it myself. Frankly, I suppose I'm addicted to it, but I don't want it for my son.” Belle: “I protected him, even knowing what he wanted to do. (Scoffs:) Yeah. It can be easy to rationalize doing the wrong thing, can't it?” Mr. Gold: “Indeed it can.” Belle: “Is it too late for us to help him? You must have some plan, some trick.” Mr. Gold: “I'm sorry. But if there is anything we can do to help him, perhaps that's something we should do together. Not just for us, but for everyone. You heard our son. I fear if we fail, war is coming to Storybrooke.” Storybrooke. Clock Tower. (Gideon angrily strides into the clock tower. Climbing the steps, he takes a few deep breaths, before smashing the clock face, venting his frustrations.) Enchanted Forest. Past. The First Ogres War. (Trebuchets are launched into the night sky as the screams of many men ring out in the darkness. A young soldier watches as first a wagon filled with wounded men enters the camp, then yet another battalion enter the fighting towards certain doom.) Young Soldier: (Deciding to flee:) “I-I can't.” Beowulf: (As the soldier bumps into him:) “Where do you think you're going?” Young Soldier: “The Ogres, they'll kill us.” Beowulf: “We're the only things standing between those monsters and home. If we run, they'll kill everyone.” Young Soldier: “How can we possibly win?” Beowulf: (Holds up his sword:) “This blade, it's called Hrunting. It was enchanted with light magic to ensure that whoever carries it into battle will be hailed a hero. So, you can either be remembered as a hero, or forever known as the coward who ran on the eve of victory.” Young Soldier: (Nods:) “All right, Beowulf. (Draws his sword:) I'll fight.” Beowulf: (Smirking, raises his sword aloft:) “To victory!” (Every single last remaining soldier follows Beowulf into battle. As they run, a gigantic Ogre walks out of the fog and easily dispatches the soldiers, several dying with one stroke of its club. Fearlessly, Beowulf charges at the beast, slashing at it with his sword and killing it. As the Ogre falls to the ground, dead, two more approach, killing yet more men between them. Including the Young Soldier who dies, squashed beneath an Ogre’s huge foot. In the aftermath of battle, only Beowulf remains standing. Walking through the mass of dead bodies, he hears another Ogre approaching and readies himself.) Beowulf: “Do your worst! (Charging at the beast, he is soon knocks backwards, his sword out of reach. Just as things seem at their bleakest, the Ogre explodes into a thousand, bloody, pieces. Standing above Beowulf, is the Dark One:) Y-You killed him.” (Holding up his dagger, the Dark One turns in a circle, killing Ogres one by one.) Rumplestiltskin: (Turning back to face Beowulf:) “Actually, I killed all of them.”

Storybrooke. Present. Mills House. (David, Regina, Emma and Henry stand in the kitchen. A bottle of champagne has been opened.) David: (Picking up his glass:) “I want to say something. Emma, I am so proud of you for what you did tonight. (Emma glances at Regina and they share a smile:) Defeating Gideon reminds us that, with a little bit of hope, nothing can tear this family apart. (Raising his glass:) I'd like to make a toast: to family.” Emma/Regina/Henry: (Clinking glasses:) “To family.” (They all take a drink. Henry shakes his head as Regina, gently takes his glass from him after one sip.) Emma: “Thanks, Dad. It's good to be home. Are you okay?” David: (Sighs:) “I wish the entire family was here.” Emma: “I know. We're gonna break this curse. I got my future back, and now you and Mom will, too.” David: (Nods:) “Right. Of course.” Regina: “Speaking of which, has anyone seen my... bitter half lately?” Forest. (Dr. Facilier returns to his hidden lair to find the Evil Queen waiting for him.) Evil Queen: “Enjoy your trip? I used my last wish to send you to that other realm, so I do hope it wasn’t wasted.” Dr. Facilier: (Smiling:) “Oh, just the opposite, I have everything I need. (His demeanor changing:) Unfortunately, my dear, that means I no longer need you. (Raising his hands, Dr. Facilier uses his dark magic to transform a stunned Evil Queen into a snake, complete with her very own cage. Walking over:) And, seeing as I can’t have you telling everyone about me, should you escape...” (Dr. Facilier takes a jewel from his pocket and waves his hand over the cage, removing the Evil Queen’s memories of him, before walking away into the night.)

[spearsandcestidrabble]

Savior of the blind and broken pt.1

Several months had passed since I’raemha had run away, since she had left everything and everyone behind so that she may escape her troubles. In truth, it only seemed to make them worse. She was miserable. Though she was with Alphinaud, watching over him, she was no longer fighting for him, she could not bring herself to fight anymore. Instead she watched over her friend and made sure he had what he needed to do his work. She left the heroic work to the other adventurers now. While she wasn’t particularly satisfied with what she did now, she wasn’t going to complain because it still kept her plenty busy on most days, though there was every now and then a slow day.

Today was one of those slow days and she hated it, without anything to do she had all the time in the world to think about things she’d rather forget. Alphinaud had left a few hours ago to attend to some personal matters, that’s what he had told her anyway. She was left to her own devices and her own devices were thinking about the people she left behind, the life she left behind, and the people she had lost in order to get where she was now.

I’raemha sat on the edge of the large fountain of Saint Valeroyant Forum, thinking about everything and giving herself a mild headache because of it. It was cold, like every other day, but she was getting used to it and her current state of mind was helpful in distracting her from the bite of the chilly air.

As she sat there, ignoring how cold she was getting and the headache she was slowly developing, she continued to think about all that had happened up until now. She thought about Y’weta and the others that she left behind, about the girls on the streets of Ul’dah she had made friends with working her side job and Ciar. She thought about how much she missed her home and how badly she wanted to go back. She didn’t dare return though, afraid that maybe she would not be welcome back. These thoughts made her inhale sharply and bite down on her tongue in an attempt to hold back the tears she knew would come.

As she lifted her hands up to wipe away the few tears that had fallen, she was brought back into the reality of her surroundings by the sound of footsteps nearing her and stopping in front of her. Someone had approached her but wasn’t saying anything. With a sigh of annoyance she cleared her throat and spoke up.

“Can I help you?” I’raemha tried to speak in as nice a tone as she could muster up with the ongoing headache that only seemed to worsen with time.

“No, well..perhaps. If you’d allow me to help you it would certainly be helping me.” The voice was that of a woman. It was sweet but also commanding. The woman’s words were a bit confusing, but how she spoke them so confidently unnerved I’raemha slightly. Before she could even think to open her mouth and give a reply, the woman continued speaking. “Sorry, that’s a little vague isn’t it? Though it is the truth. I’ve seen you around here quite often, you work for that Elezen boy, am I correct? Though you seem a bit bored with what you’re doing. I’d like to help alleviate a bit of that boredom. I can help you do more than what you currently are.”

Shocked at the other woman’s words she found herself unable to speak for a moment before finally clearing her throat and opening her mouth. “Boredom? I’m not sure what you mean, I’m perfectly content with helping my friend how I currently am. My job is hardly your business anyway, so I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer.” I’raemha’s voice was firm. This stranger had no right to say they could help her, especially when she hardly knew her. Although, as she stated that she’d seen her often, a feeling of unease washed over her, worried that she was being watched by this woman and possibly other people.

“I thought you would say that--you used to be an adventurer, correct? I can tell as much from the clothes...and of course who you’re working for.” I’raemha could practically hear the smile in her voice while she spoke. The guess about being an adventurer was spot on but she wouldn’t let it phase her, trying her hardest to keep her expression neutral while the stranger continued to speak. “You have a disability, don’t you? Perhaps blindness? I’ve seen you almost walk into buildings on several occasions, as well as seen that boy help you move around the city the first few moons you were here. I’m guessing that’s why you just help him run errands. Although...from the way you act sometimes while doing those errands for him, it seems like you used to do more. Would you like to do what you used to again?”

Every word she spoke made I’raemha’s head spin with anxiety and paranoia. How could she possibly just guess all of these things about her? Had she been watching since she arrived in Ishgard? What did she want from her? It was hard not to show the sudden spike of nervousness she felt now.

“A-and if I am blind? What does that matter to you? As I said, I’m happy with what I do now and my blindness has nothing to do with me running errands for my friend. I grew tired of fighting and chose to help him in other ways, not that that’s your business.” The blonde frowned, purposely making the frustration in her voice obvious, hoping maybe it would make the stranger disengage from further conversation.

Any hope of that deterrence of conversation was lost though as she felt a hand on her cheek. I’raemha’s body tensed and her immediate reaction was to grab the woman’s wrist and squeeze it tightly. Though instead of any sound of pain that she’d expected to come from the other, she got a light and airy chuckle before feeling her break free of her grasp and pull away.

“No need to get violent...I’m not going to hurt you. As I said earlier, I want to help you. What if I told you I could give you the gift of sight? Would you accept the offer then? You’re already strong, no doubt about that, but if you could see...imagine how much more capable you’d be. You could protect people better, isn’t that what you want?”

I’raemha didn’t know what to say, how to even *react* to this information. It sounded like a joke, like she was being teased. How could this person possibly stand before her and say she could cure a disability she’s lived with her entire life.

“What you’re offering me is impossible, I’ve lived like this my entire life, if there had been a way to cure me, I would have known about it by now. Please leave, you’re making me uncomfortable.” Her voice was shaking, but she wasn’t *asking* her to leave, she was telling her to. If this went any further and this woman upset her anymore, she might do something she’ll regret later.

As I’raemha stood up, ready to walk around and leave this woman standing at the fountain, she felt a firm grip on her shoulder and was forced to sit back down. A panic settled neatly within her belly, her mind screaming that she needed to leave this situation quickly, but she froze, unable to move or speak.

“Miss, I don’t mean to cause harm to you, but I’d like for you to hear what else I have to say about my offer. You certainly don’t have to accept, but I’d appreciate you giving the courtesy of staying and letting me finish speaking. It’s a bit rude to walk off in the middle of a conversation, don’t you think?”

“I’ve mastered a magic that can undoubtedly help you regain sight. You are not the first person I’ve helped. I’m confident that I can cure you and that you can live a healthy life, wouldn’t you like that?”

She was still frozen in place, unable to reply, and each time she opened her mouth in between the other woman’s words, she found there was nothing to say. Even if the woman said she wasn’t going to force her to accept the offer, the strength she felt holding her down with just that one arm, spoke for itself and made her doubt that she’d be left alone after this ordeal.

“My name is Altani, as I said, I won’t force you to say yes, but I truly feel you should think about this offer. I’ll be here at the same time for the next few days, you’re free to come talk to me then, or you can walk away and never speak to me again.”

She felt the hand leave her shoulder, and was ready to exhale in relief, when suddenly that hand was on her face, thumb rubbing gently against her cheek in the strangest, most motherly way. But it wasn’t calming at all, and her hand was cold, colder than the air that had been nipping at her face since she��d come out for the day.

Almost just as quickly as she’d touched her face, the feeling was gone, her hand like it had never been there and I’raemha was instantly relieved. Her ears twitched as she heard the woman shuffle around, likely turning away to leave.

“Until we meet again. Stay warm, dear, you’ll need to out here.”

Altani’s voice was sickeningly sweet and filled her with both fear and a bit of curiosity.

I’raemha made a face at her last words before she finally heard those footsteps leave. Her shoulders quickly relaxed and she slumped further against the fountain, hands covering her face as she let out a shaky sigh.

“Why me? Why is it always me?” She muttered to herself, quietly asking aloud, almost wanting someone to answer this question for her.

I’raemha took another deep breath and finally stood up from the fountain, she was ready to go back inside and be warm and away from everyone. She slowly made her way back towards the inn, clicking her tongue and navigating the best she could in this unnecessarily large city. I’raemha was in no mood to get lost today.

“Twelve if this is real, let it not be ruined like everything else in my life. Please.”

[chocoholicannanymous]

Ember Pt 2 (Teen Wolf)

Still for @rubylis and the @fandomtrumpshate auction.

Part 1 here and  Flare here 

As usual I on nothing except am overactive imagination and a brain that’s wired weird. (Oh, and a red hoodie!)

Part 2

Derek runs. He runs like he never has in his life. Not even when his family was dying did he come even close. He wants to say it's because he's an Alpha now, that he's stronger and faster because of that, but he knows it's not true.

He's running like this because he's never been more desperate in his life. Losing his family – his pack – had been traumatic, but losing his Match would mean losing everything.

He needs for Stiles to live.

Not because he won't survive Stiles dying, but because he doesn't want to survive it.

Stiles needs medical care. The bite will heal a lot of things, yes, and it's what's keeping him alive right now, but it's not a cure-all. Maybe, if Stiles had already been a wolf, his body would be able to fight of whatever he's taken – then again, he would have taken something else then, wouldn't he? – but not now. Not without help.

The problem is that Derek can't take him to the hospital. Or well, he can, just. Once they figure out about the Mark, or the Council puts out an alert, Stiles will be picked up and sent of to sub-training. And Derek can't allow that.

Stiles doesn't want it. He preferred dying to sub-training, and that means Derek can't allow him to be sent there. Whether he's right about what it means or not he believes it, and Derek can't overrule him on that. (Which might just prove that Derek isn't dominant in this relationship after all. Huh.)

There's also the fact, that while Derek will die if Stiles dies, he doesn't think he can live with a Stiles that is less than this. That's been, as he put it, broken. There's a fire inside his beautiful Match that rivals everything Derek's ever seen, and for the first time in years he craves that fire. To have it reduces to coals and ashes, or even embers... No.

Nothing but what Stiles really is will ever do.

And that means no hospital.

It's a good thing Derek has another option.

It's not until he's already banging at the door that Derek even considers the possibility of Alan Deaton not being home.

But he is, and as soon as the door opens Derek stutters out what is as much a demand as a plea to help his Match. For a moment it looks as Deaton is going to protest, making Derek’s fangs itch, but then he looks at the unconscious Stiles and steps aside.

Once the door’s closed behind them Deaton gives Derek a look that makes him want to curl in on himself and hide. He doesn’t though, because Stiles needs him. He might not be that good at standing up for himself, especially not against someone like Deaton, but he’ll do anything for the people he cares about.

“I don’t understand , why bring him here instead of to the hospital? I'm not exactly in the business of treating humans, Derek.”

True. All true – on the surface. But nothing about Alan Deaton is surface only. His business is treating animals, yes, but outside of it he's treated various members of the Hale family for a number of things preferably kept quiet. Which is exactly the case here.

Derek stumbles through an explanation, trying to tell Deaton as much as possible, in as few words as he can, barely holding back the desire to just roar him into submission. It won't work, but. Instincts are hard to deny.

Once he runs out of words Deaton just looks first at him, and then at Stiles, in that cool, almost detached way that's made Derek want to rip his throat out more than once. Then he nods.

“You made the right decision. As much as I'd like to say differently, your young man was right. He never would have stood a chance in sub-training.”

It feels like being hit by a tree. Derek feels his mouth open and close a few time, trying to form words but not managing. Finally he croaks out a “what” but doesn't get any further.

Luckily Deaton takes mercy on him.

“Let’s get him down into the basement so I can start treatment. I’ll explain once he’s safe.”

Deaton’s basement is...not as expected. Well, not until Deaton opens a secret door that not even Derek’s werewolf senses notice. Beyond that it’s exactly what he’d expect from an emissary. Even if said emissary is supposedly retired.

He puts Stiles down on the floor according to Deaton’s instructions, and hovers uselessly as the man does...something. There’s chalk, around the door and in a circle on the floor. There’s a liquid of some sorts, also on the floor, and candles and incense.

Finally he nods, and starts an examination of Stiles.

Whatever it is he mixes and pours down Stiles’s throat afterwards makes Derek’s nose burn, and causes Stiles to whimper. Deaton however looks cool, and satisfied.

When Stiles starts thrashing and moaning Derek rushes over, intent to take his pain. But Deaton stops him before he can touch Stiles.

“Don’t. I know that your every instinct must be screaming at you to take his pain away right now, but you can’t. It’s too much, and could drain you.” It makes no sense, and Deaton can clearly see it, because he clarifies. “Taking that much pain, helping him to draw out the poison, it could drain your power. Oh, you wouldn’t become human, but you could lose what makes you an Alpha.”

“He’s worth it.”

“I’m sure he is, and we’re keeping that in reserve. Just, let’s see if we can’t fix this without sacrificing your power. It could come in very handy soon.”

Derek considers fighting Deaton - which, unless the man uses magic, would be like swatting a fly - but then thinks better of it. Being an Alpha could come in handy, Deaton’s right about that. For one, there’s the fact that a Council goonsquad could show up, aiming to take Stiles away. Second…

Well. He’ll wait and see. For now.

It doesn’t take too long for Stiles to throw up, making Deaton look relieved.

“That’ll do it. As long as there are no complications from the bite he should be fine.”

Derek feels his knees start to give, and allows his body to slide down the wall. Once he’s seated on the floor and breathing properly again he turns towards Deaton with a hint of Alpha red coloring his eyes.

“You said you’d explain.”

Deaton nods, a somber look on his face.

“Sub-training is... There are those individuals who are unarguably suited to a life of submission. That said, every single individual that enters a sub-training facility comes out more or less broken – provided they come out at all. For some, however, 'more or less' becomes 'completely'.

“Your Mr Stilinski–”

“Stiles,” Derek insists, because he thinks Stiles would, and Deaton nods.

“–Stiles, would as far as I can tell, be one of the latter. The kind of personality that would rather die than enter sub-training does not lend itself well to a submissive lifestyle under any circumstances. I believe, from what I've heard, that the only way he would pass training would be to break so completely nothing of his true self remains.

“And that means training for him would become even more...harsh than usual. Chances are he would not survive.”

Deaton keeps talking for a little while, but Derek can't hear him over the sound of his own racing heart and the buzzing sound in his ears. Stiles could have died. If things had gone differently, Stiles would have gone to a training facility, and he would have died.

Derek would have lost his other half, like he's lost so much else.

Did Paige go through that? Was this the truth about her death, and her pneumonia just a cover up? Did the Council break her for fun, and then just throw her away? Did..

“...Derek? Are you alright?”

Alright? How can he be, hearing that, knowing that? They're safe for now though, he tells himself, with as much force as he can muster. Safe for now.

He nods.

“Good. As I was saying, unfortunately for Stiles there are other factors at play here. Even if he could have dealt with sub-training, chances are he still wouldn't have made it out alive. Not being Claudia Stilinski's son.”

Derek tries to understand what parentage has to do with sub-training, and then a memory floats to the surface.

“Stiles said his mom worked to take the Council down.”

“Exactly. Claudia Stilinski was a threat to the Council, and their system, and that's why she died. Initially the plan was to take out the whole family, but when her watchers spotted an important, and dangerous, witness with her... Well. Priorities. Stiles and the sheriff were left alone after since it was determined they didn't know enough to risk the attention, but if the Council were to get their hands on Stiles it would be a different matter.”

He’d hoped that Stiles was just paranoid. Yes, his Match had believed every word he’d said, but belief doesn’t necessarily make a truth. Derek knows this. Deaton’s words crushes the last of his, well, naivety he guesses.

“And even if Claudia hadn’t been a factor they still wouldn’t allow him to go free, not now.”

Derek feels his claws and fangs begin to emerge, and growls out a terse “what”.

“What do you know about the Council? About how it’s run, I mean.”

“The same as everyone else? It’s not covered that thoroughly in school, and mom…” never got around to sharing whatever she might have known.

“Not much then. Fascinating, isn’t it, how little we really know of the most powerful group in our society.”

Derek opens his mouth to protest, because that’s not how it is, and then closes it again. Because on paper, that’s maybe not how it goes, but in reality? If they’re doing what Stiles claims…

Deaton gives him a “there you go” look, and then starts explaining. It’s long,, and honestly, Derek’s not sure why he needs a lesson on society’s biggest fourth power. Or, for that matter, how Deaton knows so much.

In fact...

“How do you know all this about the Council?”

“My biological father’s family is on it.”

Derek stiffens, and starts to considering an attack.

“He was sent out to try and ‘convince’ my mother into joining the Council’s magic users, and chose to do so by seducing her. By the time she wised up and threw him out, she was already pregnant. She hid her pregnancy for as long as she could, and then faked my birth records, and he never found out for certain if I was his son or not. Oh, he suspected, and I’m sure he was planning something, but luckily when I was twelve he died from a stroke.

“A year later I got a letter from a girl claiming to be my half-sister.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, and Deaton gives him a wry smile, correctly interpreting the unspoken message.

“Yes, I thought so too. But, she checked out, as far as we could tell, and she did have my late father’s private journals. Reading them was...informative, shall we say? I decided to trust her - to a certain degree, and admittedly more out of a desire for more family than any kind of prudence.”

Deaton shrugs, looking a bit embarrassed of his twelve year old self.

“Later I realized exactly how dangerous it was, and yet. I kept in touch with her. I remembered that precious little girl, and I thought that maybe I could help her keep some of that. Keep some of the humanity the Council seems so eager to train out of their people.”

And… Derek can understand that. Even knowing as little about the Council as he does, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to realize that to work for them you need to leave your empathy at the door.

“it went on like that until she showed up at my door, middle of the night, freaked out. She was nineteen by then, and doing her first round of on-location training with the Council. Up until that moment I’d written her off as a lost cause - softer and more emphatic maybe than most, but still Council to the bone.

“And there she was, begging for my help.”

There’s pain in Deaton’s eyes, even if his face and voice stay steady, and Derek finds he’s steeling himself. This is not going to be a happy story, he thinks.

“She’d been somewhere she didn’t really have clearance to be, following her mentor, when there was a commotion. One of the ‘rising stars’, a younger member of one of the most powerful families, had just experienced the flare.

“It was developing into quite a party, with talk about finding the champagne, until some minion came running with a file. And then… Complete shutdown. The whole atmosphere went cold, and everyone was either practically thrown out, or sent back to whatever assignments they’d been working on.

“Next day the woman whose mark had flared was missing from work. At first Marin thought she’d gone to oversee her Match’s case - not exactly according to rules, but well.”

Yes. Rules were, after all, meant to broken. At least they were if you were the one making them.

“Only she never came back. Marin snooped, just a little, and found out she’d apparently gone on vacation. Some last hurrah thing. It sounded strange, and for some reason Marin decided to break all the rules. She looked up the Match - told me she figured the trip was a cover for participating in her own Match’s training, which Marin wasn’t at all okay with. She didn’t have all the information, but she had enough.

“Only there was no file on the Match in the Council’s system.

“So she’d widened the search, and then there was a hit. Laura Hale, of Beacon Hills California, dead in a fire along with most of her family. A fire that took place the day after that very flare Marin watched.”

Deaton doesn’t say more, doesn’t need to. Derek can fill in the blanks.

He remembers the day Laura’s Mark flared. His family had gone back and forth between happiness for her, and worry for Derek. It had been only weeks after Paige, and his grief had still overshadowed everything. So, uncle Peter had been roped into taking Derek and Cora for icecream.

He’d grumbled, but that was as much Peter being Peter as anything else, before taking them two towns over and treating them to not only icecream but a book-shopping spree that had made Cora jump with joy.

Derek had been bribed with driving Peter’s Camaro back.

They’d been maybe 30 minutes away when the pain had hit them, all at once. It had been so unexpected, all of them singing along to some shitty popsong just to make Cora smile, and then Derek was fighting to keep the car on the road. It had only gotten worse after.

Peter had been out the door before they’d even come to a stop, and Derek had followed him as soon as he’d made sure Cora was okay. He’d been so far behind, unable to keep up, and yet he’d kept running as if the devil was on his heels.

Had run faster than ever before, or again - up until today.

He hadn’t stopped for anything, not even feeling one light after the other go out in his soul, because it could not be true. And then he’d almost collided with Peter.

His uncle had just stood there, eyes flaring red - Derek still remembers trying to deny it - and his claws out, resting against a blonde woman’s throat. And then… Everything had gone so fast. Peter - growling, threatening, accusing, barely holding his shift back. Her - defiant, triumphant, shining bright with terrible beauty and madness.

Her throat ripped out, blood everywhere, a bright red spot on Peter’s forehead, blood, both their bodies falling, power and fear and bloodbloodblood.

He’d run again then, back towards Cora, had scooped her up and fled to the car, shaking with emotion and terror and power, power, power…

Next thing he remembers is sitting at the sheriff’s station, listening to Deaton’s whispered instructions, not understanding but following them anyway.

He pulls himself out of his memories, ignores the pain that’s always present. This is not the time to get caught up in the past. Stiles needs him to be here and now.

“Are you saying Laura, that our family died because of Laura’s Match?”

“I’m saying Laura’s Match killed them, yes, and that she did it because they were Matched. Now, make no mistake. Katherine Argent,” and Derek takes note of the name, for the first time hearing who had killed his family, “acted on her own. But she absolutely, one hundred percent had the Council backing her. She did not in any way go ‘rouge’, she just wanted to take out this threat herself instead of allowing anyone else to do it.

“And yes. Her Mark and Match made Laura a threat to the Council, and your family died for it. And now Stiles is at risk of the same thing happening to him.”

Derek’s claws are out before he even registers it happening. One second they’re tucked away, the next they’re out and itching to silence Deaton. He focuses, full of shame over his loss of control, and feels the partial shift recede.

“What. Do. You. Mean.”

“What is the fundamental truth about weres and dynamic?”

Derek scrounges his eyebrows together. It makes no sense, has nothing to do with anything as far as Derek can tell, but he answers anyway. Deaton doesn’t seem to be the type to engage in mindless chatter.

“They’re always dominant.”

“And the Council?”

Oh.

“They’re always dominant.”

“Yes. Of course, as you’ve learned, Marks and thus designations can be changed. What you can’t change however is someone being a were. And there you have it.”

Oh, it’s clear now, why. The woman who was Laura’s- no, who wore a Mark that matched Laura’s, because she doesn’t deserve to be claimed in any way as Laura’s, she’d grown up being told that in an eventual Match she’d be dominant, and then had had that smashed to pieces. All that arrogance, and hubris, the belief that she was somehow better, boiled down, making her think she could decide who lived and who died.

It’s the Council Stiles talked about in a nutshell.

And yes, he’s at risk now too, isn’t he? Just like Deaton said. Because the rule that weres are always dominant means no were is ever Matched with another were. Means it’s illegal to give your Match the bite - the Council approved lore says it’s because a submissive’s body can’t take it, that they turn into abominations, Kanimas.

Except that too is looking like a lie now.

He nods to himself, understanding everything so much clearer now.

“And even if they don’t kill him for that, or for his mom, they’ll do it because of me. Won’t they? Because Peter killed one of them, and it’s just me and Cora left now. All this, and killing Stiles isn’t just practical for them any longer, it’s pretty much unavoidable.

“Well, I’m not going to let them.”

“I hoped you’d say that. Now, we have a while longer until it’s safe to move your young man, and this part of my home is protected, even from the Council’s magic users. I do have some ideas, but essentially it’s going to be up to you, because it’s your life. Well, yours and Stiles’s, but as we won’t be able to wait for his input, you will have to decide for both of you.

“So. Let’s talk options.”

It’s obvious they can’t stay in Beacon Hills. Deaton’s basement might be protected, but they can’t stay there. Of course, there are very few places where they can stay. The warded communities Stiles talked about earlier is probably their only real option, and Derek is grateful that Deaton has contacts there. He’s less grateful about the transport methods that gets outlined, but. He’ll deal.

Safety outweighs preference and comfort, after all.

A bigger issue is keeping the Council from looking for them. Or him, rather. Stiles did, after all, try and kill himself. With how much he obviously cares for his father there will be a letter. That’s him dealt with.

Derek however… Derek they will come for. Will hunt. Weres live among humans openly now, and have been deemed no threat, but a were that’s lost their Match is another thing. Packs will take down members who lose their Match before it becomes necessary, in fear of the Council stepping in - and that’s only if the were doesn’t commits suicide first.

There’s no way the Council won’t come for him with everything they’ve got.

Deaton has a solution for that too though, and Derek feels ungrateful about his suspicions that Deaton has plans for everything but won’t share.

“You want me to give up the Alpha power?”

“No. I want you to know that it’s an option, and to think it over. It has both positive and negative aspects, but it will keep the Council from searching for you.”

And that’s true. If Derek gives up the power like this, in a controlled ritual, it’ll pass to Cora. That will make it look like Derek’s dead, since unless you’re with the old Alpha as the power passes there’s no way to tell why it’s passed on. It’ll also give Cora the opportunity to build herself a new pack.

“What’s the downside?”

“You won’t be as strong, which could affect your ability to defend yourself and your Match. Also, being an Alpha would help as Stiles learns to control his new abilities.”

“No. I get why you say that, and I know it can be very useful, but I won’t do that to Stiles. He wouldn’t want me to be able to order him around - if he didn’t want a dominant, he won’t want an Alpha either.”

He hasn’t known Stils long, true, but he can feel it in his bones that this isn’t something Stiles would want. It would be a power imbalance, an inequality, and it would ruin everything between them before it even could start. It’s too reminiscent of what Stiles tried to kill himself to avoid, and Derek won’t do that to him. If they’re going to defy everything to be together on their terms, then they’re going to do it all the way.

“How do we do this?”

o--O--O--o

Derek wakes up disoriented, an unfamiliar stiffness lingering in his body, and immediately thinks “danger”. But his body won't go alert, won't prepare itself for attack, and when he tries to force it his mind won't cooperate either. Before the panic truly begins to set in he catches a scent – lovehomesafetyhappinessmateMatch – and realizes why. Remembers everything.

Remembers Stiles.

Now that he’s using them all of Derek’s senses tells him that Stiles is next to him, and that since Stiles is calm they’re safe. The plan must have worked.

Derek relaxes a little more, and takes a deep breath. While catching any scent except Stiles’ is hard there is an underlying one that tells him he’s in an unfamiliar place. Added to how calm Stiles is, and the lack of wolf’s-bane scent, that should mean they’re in the warded community Deaton knew of.

He opens his eyes and meets amused honey-colored ones.

“Welcome to the land of living, sleepyhead. I’ve been waiting for you for ages. I’m Stiles.”

“I know” and “I’ve been waiting for you even longer” Derek wants to say. He doesn’t though, because he doesn’t want to scare off Stiles, not now that they have a real chance.

Instead he smiles, and tries to give Stiles what he wants.

“Hi. I’m Derek. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”

~ To Be Concluded ~