#its a massive au it makes next to no sense on its own

[star-boxed]

Hello gangalicious first piece here, enjoy???

[majorproblems77]

Sacred realm update! And We have LORE!

Hello!

We get the information on what that carving is! And I love it! Lore is my fave and I am just buzzing to get my teeth into this because oh man yes lore.

Alright, now for the important stuff! Sacred realm belongs to @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. I've got their permission to do these! I love the comic so much its so good and so well done!

The link to the update can be found here! You should go reblog it, it's great, give it some love, please? [but remember this is its own Zelda comic, so please tag it as such! <3]

Now, Get some snacks and a drink, and lets go!

Link is literally me, exactly my thoughts my man exactly my thoughts.

Oh? That's interesting! So my theroy on the last update was incorrect, i like this better come on then Time,

Leans forward - Tell me everything.

He calls him Birdbrain

I repeat

Time calls Sky birdbrain

Time calls Sky birdbrain i love it so much Oh my god these guys know each other from something 100% you wouldn't call someone who you've known for like 5 minutes that.

Also more innocent Cinamon roll link alert. This isn't a drill

Oooh cool spell! It appears to appear from his amulet.

Time also appears to embody an Ice/water element. A pure opposite/neutraliser of Fire.

You know I think I can see more why Sky and Time might not get on as much. there's friction between them And I see these elemental powers as not only their source of power but as a metaphorical representation of relationships.

Time dosent appear to like Time, and Fire dosent like water.

[This is another theory that I need more information about before I can talk about it more. But when we get it I shall share more.]

What a fascinating explanation. Ice is wack and really cool. But you know what Ice also does.

Hides.

And I think Ice, is used deliberately, Let me explain.

So When I think of Ice I think of two things, small crystals and Icebergs. Small Ice does something very specific, but is also VERY detailed.

[I have a science background so I won't go into too much detail, but I will say, the structure of ice, Is VERY pretty. Just think about a snowflake, they are just ice crystals.]

Then on the opposite end, you have these MASSIVE structures of ice which are even larger under the sea. This information we have here to me could just be that initial bit we can see. As Time says It has "Numerous facets, each different from the others."

Time even says that what we have on this wall, are only the main ones.

Something to think about.

Do you mean like that realm covered in water where you fight Demise in Skyward Sword? That's the vibe I get from this.

Maybe when Sky feels better we should speak to him about this?

So we all can see fierce deity here. And that other guy, now that I think about it looks an awful lot like someone we know, no?

He looks like the Black knight

I went looking for information on the black knight and found this page (black knight information from the artist)

So like The black knight and Fierce Deity are brothers?

Cause if I've understood that right, and that's correct. This changes A lot of what happens next. And we are going to need Time and Sky to get along to be able to fight it. You know, As they've both fought gods. And are the most experienced to do so.

Is that where our big bad from RIGHT back at the start of the comic lives. It would certainly make sense.

Have I ever mentioned how much I like Hylia's and Fierce Deity designs in this AU cause I love it.

Well we know what happens to Fierce, at least at the moment we can assume he's safely secured inside the deity mask that Time carries.

Hello not friend

who are you? what are you doing

Did Fierce betray this mystery figure, or did this mystery figure betray Fierce? I have so many More questions!

Why are you laughing?!

Oh man

I hope you enjoyed my rambling! And that you have as many questions as I do because I have so so so so many questions about this new character.

Hope you have a good day! :D

[sugolara]

Begin

ft. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

series m.list || next

The sound of trees swaying and their branches filled with leaves crashing onto nearby trees sounded peaceful to the h/c hired girl. The birds would occasionally chirp as some flew from the oak trees while others attended to their new chicks that had just hatched in their nest. She listened to the wind blowing near her ear and watched as the clouds passed by in the bright blue sky.

Her forehead began to collect beads of sweat as the blazing sun shined down on her figure. With her back resting on the uncomfortable road, she began to wonder just how long she had been laying, waiting for somebody to bring her back to reality.

Her movements were so still that if anyone were to spot her they'd think she was one of them; a rotter. A cruel vicious flesh eating monsters who preyed on the living, wiping out almost every human civilization. Their only goal is to eat, no matter how big their stomachs would be bugling.

The dry bloody clothes, hair matted, exposed skin covered in dry smeared blood and dirt only added to her looking like one.

Beside her left arm was her dirty bag that she used for all her school years and a pistol. Only an empty water bottle rested inside the bag. If she had to guess, she'd say it's been at least a few hours since she's seen her family. She's positive that none of them survive the massive horde that shredded her family's farm.

She felt hopeless, but most importantly a coward. She should have stayed longer, fought longer. Maybe if she had stayed then someone would still be alive or she would have at least gotten the chance to say a final goodbye, but she didn't. She could still hear their shrilling voices echoing in her ear as they pleaded for help.

Her tired eyes slowly blinked as a bird that had left its nest flew away. Her left fingers twitched as her instinct kicked when she heard approaching footsteps. However, she didn't bother getting up and instead let herself relax, hoping that a rotter was the one coming for her so she could see her family again.

But the world had different plans as the sun was blocked and her eyes came in contact with a pair of lively green eyes, concerningly looking down on her.

His green locks are matted, eyebags are formed just above his freckles, a dirty faded yellow bag rests on his shoulders, and he's holding a wooden r39 rifle with a scope. His dark clothing and even his bright red shoes are dirty.

His eyes scanned her exposed skin and when no bite or scratch was revealed and the sign of her chest moved he let out a soft sigh of relief escaping his lips, "Are you okay?"

He took a step to his side, having the sun blind her eyes. She reached an arm to cover her eyes as she sat up, her back bones feeling relieved to be off the concrete floor. She took in a breath, feeling rather hopeless to see another human, "I'm fine."

He could sense her feeling so he encouraged a small smile to fall on his lips, but his eyes then moved when her left arm reached to grab her pistol. He quickly kicked the gun away before aiming his own rifle at her, his finger inches away from the trigger, "I don't want to do it, so please, don't make me."

The girl looked up at him, her hand going back to her side, "Relax. If you're going to shoot, then do it, but just know anybody from a mile away will hear you."

She then looked towards the gun, "Besides, the chamber empty."

He looked unconvinced and approached the gun. His back was never turned to her even when he let his rifle down to check the chamber. To his surprise, she was right, it was completely empty.

He again let out a sigh, placing his rifle back on his shoulder and looking at the girl, "Sorry, you can never be too careful these days. Bad enough we have the dead walking. Last thing we need is for people to attack each other."

She tried sitting up, in the process she had winced when she had forgotten she sprained her ankle. He quickly moved to her and helped her get her footing, "Why'd you pick up the gun if you knew nothing was in there?"

She shrugged, her ankle slightly hurting, but it wasn't anything too bad she couldn't handle, "I guess I just wanted to give you some sort of comfort. Don't know."

He removed his hand from her once she was able to stand on her own and reached to grab her bag before giving it to her, the gun next. He noticed her bag wasn't heavy. If someone were to be one their own he figured the person would be stocked with supplies, but he also realized where she stood. On a road possibly an hour away from Musutafu, "Are you alone?"

She nodded, grabbing her bag and placing it on her shoulders, "Alone with my fellow bugs."

The comment wasn't meant to be funny, but it had the male smiling, "Do you know where you're heading?"

"Wherever this road leads to." She shrugged, unsure of what to say and wondering how he could smile when he felt like he threatened just minutes ago.

He may have just met her so he didn't truly know her, but one thing is sure, he didn't want to be alone. That's no way for a human to live and he was getting bored of having nothing to share like he did with his friends, who he hoped were still alive.

"Well," His smile was still on display, "I don't have a camp and I'm all alone. I also don't really know where to go, but I do plan on leaving the city since it's more prone for the dead. It would be nice to have company, so...do you want to come with me?"

She looked at him. A part of her wanted to go back to her farm, but she didn't know if the rotters were still lingering and she couldn't take them all herself. She honestly hoped that someone in her family at least made it out, but judging from what she saw, her hope was lost.

Even if she wanted to go back, she didn't know what direction to take. She ran with no looking back until she gave up to exhaustion, leaving her lying on the road she stood at. Maybe this was a sign that this was the end of her journey with them. Her family, and her fathers lesson will always be engraved in her black heart, but she should let bygones be bygones.

Her family would understand and she of course wouldn't want to take the male, who stood in front of her concerningly eyeing her as she hasn't responded to his question, back to her family's farm and endanger him. He looked too kind for death.

"Okay." She said, placing her pistol on the waistband of her jeans, "I'll go with you, by the way, I'm F/n L/n."

His shoulders sag, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks, "Izuku Midoriya." 

[azyranx]

Life got busy but I finally had the time to expand a snippet into this. Still working on the longer post about this AU, but here's something featuring Prowl. Tumblr's formatting doesn't have exactly what I wanted, but hopefully it still makes some sense (under the cut).

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

On any given day Prowl immersed himself within millions of possible outcomes for any number of things. From the planet’s shifting to the onset of massive storms he saw virtually anything and everything. He just needed to read the “flow of the planet,” and when he studied those streams everything became clearer. All he needed to do was hone in on those rivers of light, and the signs only he could see told him everything he needed to know.

Many mechs thought they understood clearsight—and basically any outlier ability in general—but most dismissed it as clairvoyance or premonitions. They couldn’t be more mistaken.

On its own, the ability simply allowed a mech to perceive the “life force of the planet itself.” Whether it established a connection to Primus had yet to be determined, but there was no denying the information it could reveal to a bot. A mech only needed to read the movement of those streams to uncover countless secrets. Such an action, however, was easier said than done and those secrets were not things a mech could just look at and understand. Only the unlucky few knew exactly how overwhelming clearsight could be, and most of those mechs tended to lose themselves in more ways than one.

Prowl, on the other hand, was part of the very small percentage of “those unlucky few” who weren’t really unlucky. Where most faced scrambled processors and overclocked logic units, he encountered rich veins of data and probabilities. Where most fried their processors, he pushed his own farther and faster to sift through the unending currents of information. Where most were swept away, he stood firm. The reason Prowl didn’t succumb to the same fate as those unfortunate sparks was straightforward enough. His clearsight gave him the information, but his tacnet made sense of it all.

With it he could actually look upon the constantly changing flows without crashing. A quick glance resolved colorful rivers of light into recognizable patterns and movements. A more comprehensive examination uncovered information others would be hard-pressed to find. Together, Prowl saw and studied how things existed in current, changing, and future conditions. From there it became a simple matter of prioritizing.

Sometimes he needed to focus on the cities of Cybertron and ensure imminent disasters caused as little damage as possible. Other times he needed to watch for signs of change and formulate plans to counter shifts in the corruption zones. Whatever the case, he directed his attention to the relevant streams and explored the multitude of potential outcomes until he found what he needed. He was nothing if not patient and thorough.

Yet this exact quality brought him to his current predicament. Not a single detail escaped Prowl’s scrutiny when he concentrated his clearsight and at this point there was very little he hadn’t seen, but for all that he found himself staring at something completely unknown.

He’d been deep within the 427th priority tree when his optics caught the first flashes of . . . something. One moment he studied the colorful energies within the Primal Basilica; in the next he found them tainted by tendrils of shadow. It took longer than he would have liked to discern the true nature of those anomalies, and that gave the first indication of danger. The sudden wave of corruption surging out from those ebony whorls—covering 78% of the affected stream in the initial outburst—gave him the second.

Before he could think to raise the alarm it vanished as quickly as it manifested, leaving Prowl alone in the grand hall with more questions than answers. He might have doubted the occurrence altogether if not for the half-formed and ongoing queries posed by his tacnet. Energy rippled and swirled as usual, but trained optics recognized changes no matter how small. He brought a hand to his head and activated his visor.

Currents of vibrant hues materialized without warning, rushing and swirling throughout the wide room. He wasted no time for his analyses and dove into the endless flow of possibilities.

The planet shifted— —following the same rotation (likely)— —incrementally moving off course (less likely)— —and collided into Luna 1 (very unlikely)— . . . Predictions on course.

Life thrived in Iacon— —energy pooled in the Primal Basilica (most likely)— —and welled within the hotspot (likely)— . . . Predictions on course.

Life thrived in Praxus— —the Crystal Gardens pulsed with energy (most likely)— —the Crystal Gardens grew dim (very unlikely)— . . . Predictions on course.

He sent the assessments about the next cities to the background of his logic center and moved on to a different group of streams.

The wards held— —back the ever-present darkness (most likely)— —and drew from the planet’s energy (likely)— —as Keepers tended them (likely)— . . . Predictions on course.

The sigils remained— —and isolated the fathomless void (most likely)— —drawing from the planet’s energy (likely)— —strong as Keepers maintained them (likely)— . . . Predictions on course.

The mountains stood��� —tall and formidable (most likely)— —and suddenly crumbled (unlikely)— —but shifted to reach the sky (most unlikely)— . . . Predictions on course.

The winds howled— —and carried acid rain further inland (unlikely)— —ripping through the Sonic Canyons (unlikely)— . . . Predictions on course.

The cliffs crumbled— —widening the ravine to the abyss (most likely)— **Deviantion detected**Predictions off course.

What?

He let the analysis continue in the background but paid it little attention. Instead he focused on the cache holding his reports, skimming through it until he found the one he sought. Rereading it confirmed the conclusions he’d reached, but how had this come to pass? He directed the rest of his processing power to analyze the stream in question, but it revealed nothing new. It simply spit out the same information: the ravine would crumble in spite of a previous report mentioning nothing of the sort.

That settled it.

Prowl pulled himself out of the slew of data and diverted his tacnet to a more stable chain of possibilities—the planet shifted following the same rotation—ignoring the assessments it made. There could always be different variations to an object’s next course of action, yes, but they always fell within expected parameters. At least they always did until now. He didn’t know how or why that was the case, but he knew just the mech to help him find out.

[glowstone23b]

warden/ancient city thoughts …

Anicent cities aren’t actually cities, they’re actually massive temples instead that devoted themselves to a certain god (im not sure what god the old builders would worship akandk)

They laid many people to rest in those underground crypts, that a bit of their souls leaked out of the bodies and infected the glowing cave vines, resulting in a strange mutation of sculk

and as more people died and got places in those tombs,,, the more sculk spread

Eventually some worshippers caught notice of this and assumed it to be some gift from the gods, so they continued to add fuel to it, experimenting with it, etc, finding out that when a creature dies— instead of the soul ascending to an afterlife, it is instead pulled down by the sculk and merged into what was like a sentient hivemind of connected souls working together to become something akin to an organism

At some point, as evolution of the sculk furthered and sculk sensors formed, it eventually led to a sculk shrieker

and after worshippers activated it a couple times in a row,

It summoned the massive, blind hulking beast known as the warden. It harvested as many souls as it could from the worshippers as it chased after them, leaving no one in it’s wake, before retreating back into the biomass until the next time there is a significant amount of soul that alerts the shriekers once more

Ok mini rant story thing over. i like to think that sculk works in a weird sort of method

Catalyst farm and form the extra sculk needed to begin an infection —> sensors pick up on sounds made by noises that supposedly could be creatures with a soul —> shriekers sound a scream that helps determine if a warden should form —> warden harvests any nearby creatures to help the sculk spread. if killed, the warden drops a catalyst, so it can all begin again

The warden itself is a weird amalgamation of human souls stuck together fused with the sculk. the main reasoning for it being blind (other than cave animals usually being blind since low to zero light requires little need for eyes) is because detecting sound means a very high chance of something w soul

Sculk sickness …. Possibly a rare disease only picked up by deep miners. nasty no good and probably hurts as the sculk eats you from the inside out

Illagers came across the ancient cities and set up camp for a short amount of time to try and study the sculk . you can imagine what happened to them

[ i like to think every ‘living’ creature in minecraft has a soul. that keeps them alive and thinking and breathing and stuff. and undead mobs have soul residue which leaves them with very basic instincts or things they subconsciously remember how to do ITS A FUN THOUGHT ]

[ in my little au illagers love experimenting w souls . because the more you experiment the more messed up results you get (vexes being the fused collective of 2-3 allays, or creating abominations via sticking two different mob souls together… possibly how ravagers came to be since they look a bit like villagers that got turned into beasts . fun theorizing ]

Hey invention? Phanon? I love your mind, it's wonderful. Have a drawing!

I've never drawn a warden before, mostly because it's been very daunting, but I think I got it out the way I wanted it to!! Sculk itself is kind of like... a fungus-y tentacle-y mixture, and i got some inspiration from the devil's fingers fungus irl! Really cool, I suggest giving it a look-see.

In my head, sculk would start off kind of like little eggs or pips or... whatever those things are... there's a name for it, when a plant or a cell decides to split off to make a new plant or cell? Mitosis? Bulbs? Plantlets? There's a word I'm looking for. Anyways. They'd probably grow mini sculk bits off of more mature ones so they can drop off and spread on their own, kind of like some types of succulent if that makes sense? Which explains the little sticky-outy bits on the wardens' horn things. Man, there's gotta be proper terminology for this, my brain is not finding the right words today.

They'd release some sort of bioluminescence when disturbed, and have an almost tar-like substance produced to trap smaller mobs (spiders, bats, etc.) that happen to wander too close, akin to fly traps. It wouldn't work as well for humans, but it's not uncommon to have your foot tugged on by some sculk in the hopes it can digest you.

I went off "The warden itself is a weird amalgamation of human souls stuck together fused with the sculk" because it's FREAKING COOL, so !!! Yeah!! I've got some of the larger/longer sculk tendrils used as arms and 'fingers' in a sense, though they're not all that precise in use. It just opts to smack the heck out of people usually. The bones in the shoulders and feet I thought were really cool on the in-game design, so I feel that the sculk would grow around any sorts of bones it had access to to keep a more stable structure. Keeping yourself upright if you're a soft mass of plantiness/fungus-yness would be a little tough, I think. Also, keeping bones close to the sculk might make it easier to tether souls together? Who knows!

It'd be neat to see what types of matter the sculk would attach to to form a warden-- it could be enderman bones, for all we know! Big and long and short and stubby, and all of the bones are in the wrong places. Using femurs for toes, or ribs for arms... it'd definitely not be fun to see in person.

Sculk sickness sounds SO NEAT TOO!!! I imagine you might be able to inhale it, like spores? Since it feeds off of xp or souls, you just keep fueling it once you're infected whether you like it or not. Does it have any cure, or would you have to have some sort of surgery to try to remove the existing sculk from your body? That'd cause a heck of a lot of complications, if it were to block anything internally. Wild, but neat to theorize about.

And YES on the experimenting with souls thing! Especially with the update so vexes look a lot more like allays-- definitely experiment material. I wonder how many more mobs are out there that we haven't seen because they haven't been made yet? Just mish mashes of any sort of soul they could get their hands on, inhabiting a body that doesn't feel quite right. Kinda interesting!

Thank you for sharing as always ily you rule. Your theories slap, may your inventory be full of diamonds or something. May the Nether's fire guide your way, idk. More piglin-y, as per my blog, lol.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

The Act of Untying

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU); aftermath of The Question, and a conclusion...?

Note: It's David Tennant's birthday! And once again I'm posting the last chapter of one of my stories... I promise I'm not doing this on purpose.

This chapter is designed to be the last one of A Patient, and Time. I almost guarantee I'll add bits and pieces here and there in the middle of the story, but no matter what, this is where it ends.

...Or is it?

~~~

Zepheera was everywhere and nowhere.

The bright blue light that consumed her was all around, and it sent her careening. Like someone had picked her up and tossed her at full strength, and it just kept going on and on without end.

Until it ended.

The ground found her immediately. Even once she landed on her face, everything continued to spin– though that was based on feeling more than sight. Zepheera's vision was blown out from the brightness that seemed to last an eternity and an instant all at once. She very nearly vomited from the motion sickness.

Cheap and nasty, the Doctor had always called time travel of this sort.

Wait…

That device… the temporal what-was-it? Edwin had been going on and on about it, and had it pointing at Zepheera just before…

Zepheera’s next breath was deep, like she'd just emerged from underwater. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the blue and take in the world around her. 

Where was she? When was she??

It was all so overwhelming and distant at first. Her senses struggled to catch up. Most prominent and alarming was a sensation Zepheera was terribly familiar with. Vibrations in the ground– constant and all around, at steady intervals.

Footsteps. Far too many of them for a borrower’s comfort.

And behind (or more accurately, above) it all, the murmur of voices like distant thunder making conversation. Zepheera's blood ran cold. Wherever she was, it was somewhere out in the open, with people much larger than her around. 

Not ideal at all.

She suddenly became aware of a closer rumble in the ground that was increasing in intensity behind her, and her head whipped around. Her vision had cleared just enough to take in a sight that dropped ice into her stomach. 

Massive hooves crashed heavily against the cobbled stone of the street, marching the attached titanic horses and the further looming carriage behind them ever closer to Zepheera, who was right in their path!

Very, very bad!

Zepheera's body moved on its own, instinct carrying her out of harm's way and pressing her to a damp curb. She watched, bewildered, as the monumental vessel passed her by and briefly cast her in its shadow.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, but she was determined to not let panic override her. She needed to figure this out. Violet eyes darted in every direction to take in every important detail.

The sky was grey, full of clouds that had recently rained and were on their way out. Between them, Zepheera could make out a sliver of familiar blue. The people walking along the pavement, the edge of which the borrower was pressed against, looked like the people she'd spent her whole life living alongside. Human beings. Speaking English, and her own dialect of the language. Even the architecture, despite being a little archaic to her memory, was familiar.

Despite how lucky it was, Zepheera was hard-pressed to feel relief to reasonably assume that she was at least on Earth, and in England to boot.

A stray newspaper lay in the curb a few meters away, with just enough room underneath to act as a lean-to for a borrower. Zepheera ignored how sore her entire body felt as she hurried towards it. Even if it was old, it could give her an idea of just where and when she had ended up. And offer a bit of shelter while she worked out next steps. 

Ducking underneath the dampened paper, Zepheera managed to find the top of the page, and it finally gave her the terrible clarity she'd been looking for.

July 21st, 1889.

~~~

“Come on, come on!”

It was over. Alaric Edwin and his plots were no more. That didn't matter.

“There's GOT to be a trace! There's ALWAYS a trace!”

The Doctor had every wire he could find pulled out from or around the TARDIS console, all of them attached to the temporal displacement weapon. His fingers flew across every keyboard, every button and switch and control available to him. Frantic brown eyes flicked constantly around the various machinery that now filled the floor of the room, and the monitor that lit up with even more functions at once than usual.

“Come on, find it, FIND IT! No WAY you are going to out-clever ME and MY TARDIS!!”

A whirring buzz intensified from the sonic screwdriver in the Doctor’s white-knuckled grip. Its pitch and volume heightened, and its light glowed brighter as it, like the Time Lord and everything else at his disposal, was pushed to its absolute limits.

The console sparked and popped violently. Even the interior lights of the room and the central column itself flickered. The heat and plasma flying up finally forced the Doctor back from it all, and he stumbled into the old seat nearby. 

The screwdriver clattered to the floor. 

His chest heaved underneath his tight suit jacket, and his eyes continued to burn.

“No. No, no no no NO!”

In a blind rage, the Doctor threw himself back to his feet, stomped forward and ripped the weapon out from the nest of wires and cables.

“Stupid… stupid, stupid WHEEL!!”

The Doctor hurled the infernal machine straight into the doors of the TARDIS, where it came completely undone and fell into an unceremonious pile of useless electronics.

And that was that.

Like a puppet with cut strings, the Doctor slumped to his knees. His hands just barely reacted quick enough to keep him from teetering forward, fingers tingling with pins and needles under his weight.

Not again… not now, after all they'd been through!

A roar erupted from the console room, reverberating through the entire ship. Frustration and fury. Guilt and grief. All of it and more bubbled up from the Doctor’s chest and tore its way through his throat on the way out.

The Doctor didn't save her. Too slow, too cocky. And with no means of narrowing down the search, there was no chance of tracking down a single borrower who could be anywhere.

Zepheera was gone. Lost somewhere in time and space. 

~~~

By the end of the day, Zepheera’s situation became dreadfully clear.

She looked out at the now darkened and empty street, curled in a ball against the wall of an alley that had kept her hidden from the towering pedestrians.

Now they were gone, and Zepheera was alone with her thoughts. 

For hours, she’d sat there straining her ears to listen for the one sound she needed to hear most in the universe. She’d watched the street at all times in case she could make out something blue appearing in the distance.

She never saw or heard it.

Surely, she thought, if the Doctor could find a way to track her down, he would. But the way that Edwin was talking, it seemed like that wasn't possible.

Her eyes closed and she hugged her knees tight. Deep breath in… In a little more, and out slow…

Zepheera didn't want to give up hope. Didn’t want to believe the words of a horrible man. After all, if there was anyone she knew who did the seemingly impossible on a regular basis, it was the Doctor. 

Then again, she also knew the TARDIS wasn't always the most accurate ship to pilot at times. 

Regardless, facts had to be faced. She was stranded in a time unfamiliar to her, with no way to contact her friend or make herself known without risking her safety and that of any other borrowers that might be found. 

With a shaky sigh, Zepheera pushed herself to her feet. Her best bet, for now, was to find a way indoors. Stay safe and under the radar, like a borrower should. Survive.

She wouldn’t stop looking out for signs of the Doctor. If there was even the slightest chance that he might be able to find her, then she couldn’t just walk away.

And if he never came… Well, she'd figure that out when she needed to.

Tentatively– even reluctantly– she backed out of the moonlight and disappeared into shadows.

[missrosegold]

and if my body should fade i'll trust you with my soul part II

Part I can be found here

Synopsis: You’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin around your village, even though it seemed that nobody else could.

Or, you ended up making a deal with death, and now he’s come to collect.

Word count: 30k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, strong language, smut, so Minors or ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+ Additional tags listed below. This does take place in a somewhat medieval inspired AU so there are some misogynistic tones in some parts of the story.

Playlist: Sparky Deathcap – September (we got fire) instrumental version, slowed.

Thank you once again to the lovely @candycandy00 for editing this for me, and another massive thank you to miss @kimkaelyn for making the banner for me! (I love it so much!)

You sigh to yourself as you check medical supplies in your village’s apothecary, making a mental note to tell the healer you’re training under that you’re running low on Feverfew and Echinacea.

Fall has arrived in full swing. The dense forest that surrounds your town has changed its leaves from vibrant green to beautiful shades of red and yellow. It’s beautiful, but you’ve never been much of a fall person. You know what comes next. The autumn months mean winter is close behind, and you’ve never liked the cold. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that this upcoming winter is going to be a particularly bad one.

You shake your head and return to your task at hand, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering as you continue to take stock of the medical inventory.

After the mysterious disappearance of your betrothed, your parents didn’t try to engage you to anyone else, and you can’t help but feel relieved. Marrying one of the men from your village was never in the cards for you, a fact that you made very clear to them after your formal betrothal’s disappearance. You weren’t interested in marriage or raising a family of your own. Not right now, possibly not ever.

In the end, you decided to train under your village’s healer – a kind old woman named Chiyo, who’s been the town healer for longer than you’ve been alive – as a means of getting out from under your parents.

Despite word of your betrothal’s mysterious disappearance quickly spreading throughout your village, there had been some other potential suitors that had come to you after you had started training at the apothecary. While none of them were rude or malicious, you always turned them down with a gentle smile before sending them on their way.

Besides, none of them held your heart the way a certain pyromancer did.

You haven’t seen Touya for a few months now, not since the disappearance of your betrothed. You’re not completely sure what happened after Touya found him – you’re not sure if you want to know, even though you have a pretty good idea of what happened if the fresh burns he had come back with had anything to say about it. You know better than to ask though, knowing full well that Touya will never tell you the full truth, even if you already know without him having to say it.

You sometimes wonder if there’s anything left of the blacksmith’s son.

You know that you should feel shocked, horrified even, that your pyromancer was capable of doing such an atrocious thing. But all you feel when you think about it, is a strange sense of relief.

You wonder if that makes you a bad person.

Inwardly, you know it probably should, especially when the blacksmith came looking for his son not long after his disappearance. When he had asked you if you knew anything about why his son had seemingly taken off without so much as a word to anyone, you had said no, of course, because what else could you have said to him? It’s not like anyone aside from you could see Touya to begin with, and there no way to explain to the blacksmith the fate that had most likely befallen his son.

Regardless, all you knew was that you’d never see him again. Touya had made sure of that.

There are still search parties that go out every once in a while, looking for him and a part of you wants to tell them that it’s a waste of time, that he’s nowhere to be found, but you won’t. It’s yours and Touya’s dirty secret to share now, and it will stay that way until you take your dying breath.

You suppress a sigh as you take a break from checking inventory, and your thoughts wander back to Touya of their own accord. He had warned you that he wouldn’t be back for some time after he had brought you home – he had serious business to take care of in the eastern part of the country, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. You hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Your heart clenches when you think of him. You’re not sure what you are anymore. You told him that you loved him, and even though he didn’t say it back to you, you’re certain that he loves you too.

“You know why.” Those words have echoed in your head since he said them to you. You’ve known that the two of you have been bordering on the cusp of something for a while now, and that solidifies it.

You promise yourself that the next time he comes to see you, you’ll ask him what you are to him. What this is.

Eventually, Chiyo dismisses you in the midafternoon, and you find yourself taking the lonely path up towards Dabi’s temple. You’ve started going there a lot more in Touya’s absence. Ever since you kissed the white-haired pyromancer in Dabi’s temple, you had started making a habit of coming back to the derelict temple, in an effort to clean it up a little.

For some reason, Touya seems to have a fondness for the place, and you’re starting to understand why. Despite its outward appearance and dust covered insides, you’ve never once felt unwelcome in the temple itself. It’s calm and quiet, and the more you visit the abandoned shrine, you realize it’s really a shame that it was abandoned by the priests, because it was probably quite beautiful back in the day.

With that thought, you had decided to take it upon yourself to try and restore the temple back to its original glory.

When you had brought up what you wanted to clean Dabi’s shrine to the priests at Hawks’s temple, you had been met with disbelieving looks, as the temple itself had sat vacant for well over a century. But once you had assured them that you weren’t there to cause trouble, and that you only wanted to clean it up a little, they had relented, and even gave you cleaning supplies, telling you that if you needed help, all you needed to do was come and get them.

You had laughed to yourself as you took the cleaning supplies back with you to the temple. The only reason why you had gone to them in the first place was to tell them what you planned to do, regardless of whether they liked it or not. Hawks’s temple was the closest to Dabi’s, and you’d end up walking past it to get to the secluded shrine more often than not. The last thing you needed was them assuming that you were doing something strange, when it was the exact opposite.

You soon found yourself in front of the large double doors once more, but unlike the first time you had entered the temple, you didn’t hesitate to let yourself in this time, shutting them softly behind you. You set your shawl down by the entrance and take off your shoes to avoid tracking any dirt in from the outside. You breathe in deeply as the faint smell of incense hits your nose, looking around the large room with a content smile on your face.

It’s not perfect, but its far better than what it was previously. You’ve washed and cleaned the floors and walls, sweeping out almost a century’s worth of dust and other debris. You’ve scraped the ancient remains of melted candle wax off the alter in front of Dabi’s statue, and replaced the melted down prayer candles with new ones. You brought in some pillows and plush rugs from home that your mother was about to throw out, not wanting them to go to waste, and also wanting to make the temple more homey, in case anyone aside from yourself wanted to visit. You keep incense burning constantly to get rid of the musty smell that has always lingered around the temple, and it finally seems to be working. Lastly, with the help of two priests from Hawks’s temple, you were finally able to fix that damn hole in the ceiling above the statue of the Cremation God.

Now you’re at the temple to do one last thing: clean the giant marble statue of the Death God himself. You didn’t see much of a point cleaning it before the hole got fixed, but thankfully, the sculpture doesn’t seem to be very dirty. Still, you want to go over it, and wash down what you can reach – it’s only polite after all.

Besides, after what you learned about him from Touya, you figure that it’s not a bad idea to stay in the illusive god’s good graces--

“Hello Princess.”

You jump at the sound of a familiar smoky rasp, and whirl around, only to see Touya standing a few feet behind you, a smirk plastered across his dis-coloured lips.

“Touya! When did you get here? I thought you said you didn’t know when you were going to be back! Did you finish with whatever you were doing in the East early?” you gasp delightedly, as the tall man strides towards you. He shakes his head.

“No, the situation there is a bit more… serious then I originally thought. I’m probably going to be there for a while yet, but I had some time, and I wanted to see you.” He stops directly in front of you, and his smirk becomes softer. “How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been… keeping busy.” You tell him, lacing your hands together in front of you. “I’ve started working at the village apothecary. Chiyo runs a tight ship, but I’m learning a lot from her and she’s good to me.”

“What did your parents think about that?”

“Well… they weren’t pleased, but that’s more to do with me telling them that I won’t be courting anyone anytime soon. I told them I wasn’t interested, nor will I ever be. My mother isn’t happy, but at least she hasn’t forced me into any other engagements… not after what happened before you left.” You tell him honestly, and Touya only nods, his expression not giving anything away.

“Glad they’ve finally taken the hint. What else have you gotten up to, pretty girl?”

“Take a look around, you tell me.” You tell him with a tiny smile. You watch his brows furrow together in confusion, and he looks around the room, only for his eyes to widen, like he’s seeing the temple for the first time.

You watch as he investigates the plush rugs and pillows you have scattered around the base of the alter, how he takes in the sight of fresh prayer candles lit at the bottom of the statue – how clean and bright and warm you’ve managed to make it, since you were both here last. He seems overwhelmed, like he’s at a loss for words.

“I did it for you.” You admit softly, feeling your face heat up with your admission.

“You did this… for me?” he asks slowly, not looking at you, as he takes in everything that you’ve done. You smile softly at him even though he can’t see it.

“You seem to be pretty fond of this place, and you know so much about its history, I thought that maybe I could fix it up a little so I could have something to show you when you came back.” That gets his attention, and he fixes his azure eyes on you, locking you in place.

“You did this for me.”

“I… yes… Do you not like it?” you sputter, suddenly worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“No, Gods no. You did this for me.” He says breathlessly. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for.” He closes the remaining space between you, and his obscenely warm hands find your waist, while yours automatically come rest on his chest. “God’s you did this for me.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Touya? I don’t understand--?”

The words die on your lips as Touya surges forwards and presses his rough lips to yours. You feel the grip he has on your waist turn bruising, as he kisses you hard and deep, bordering on desperate.

“I love you.” He tells you, pulling away momentarily to bring one hand up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “I love you. You were the first person to see me in so long – I knew you were different, I knew you were for me, and then you did this-“

He smashes his lips back onto yours, and you wrap your hands around his neck. Normally, you’d be mindful of his burns, but you’re so engrossed in his feverish kisses that you squeeze him tightly, and feel him moan into your mouth in response. He pulls back slightly for air, and pants heavily against you.

“Let me have you.” He growls against your lips. “Right here, right now. Gods help me I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you. I need you.”

“Okay, I—okay—yes.” You hear yourself gasping, and suddenly you’re swept off your feet. You feel your back hit something soft. Turning your head slightly to the side, you realize that Touya has placed you down onto a small pile of pillows. The realization of what you’re about to do hits you full force, but you don’t feel scared. You want this, you want him. You’ve wanted him for a long time.

Touya looms over you, caging you in, and runs the back of a heavily scared hand over your cheek. You shiver from the sensation of his feverishly hot skin and the cooler tones of the staples in his hand running over your skin. He gives you a wicked smile, as he sits back on his haunches, and starts to push your skirts up, revealing your bare legs.

You lurch up and grab his hands, forcing him to pause. He chuckles low in his throat at your actions, and pries your hands off of his own, placing a kiss on the back of one as his azure blue eyes meets your flushed face. “Relax my love. Let me take care of you.”

“It’s just- I mean, I’ve never done this before. I’m-“

“I know.” Touya damn near purrs, and you feel heat pool in your belly. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.”

You nod shakily and lower yourself back down onto the pillows, as Touya hikes your skirts up, revealing your legs and bottoms. He groans deeply as he kneads the plush of your thighs. “Fuck Princess, you’re perfect. Just like I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about me?” For some reason, his words of endearment strike a chord with you.

“Of course.” Touya murmurs, coming up to kiss you briefly, before taking your hand in one of his own. “Whenever I’m away, or I’m in the middle of a mission – alone and lonely – I think of you.”

He brings your hand down to his crotch, and sure enough, you feel a bulge underneath his pants. “See what you do to me?” he growls as he releases your hand so that he can work on shimmying your panties down your legs. You go to move your hand away, but he fixes you with a stern look. “Keep it there. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

You nod as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and leans back slightly to pull them down your legs, almost ripping them off in his haste. As soon as the offending material is gone, Touya gently wraps his hands around you knees and pulls them up so your feet are planted on the ground, before nestling his way back in between them, not taking his eyes off of the junction in between your legs.

“Gods.” He whispers. “Fuck.”

You feel him throb in the thick canvases of his pants as he runs a finger through your folds, causing you to shudder and clench around nothing. “God love, you’re fucking soaked.” Touya hisses, as he pushes your hand away from his hardness and rips his cloak over his head, revealing his bare chest to you.

In all the years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him this exposed. His chest is a patchwork of scars and staples just like his arms and face. Most of the skin is dead and badly burnt, but you do see some spots where there are still glimpses of healthy skin amongst the mess of purpled burns. Just like you suspected, his body is lean but ripped with corded muscles that bunch and flex with his every move. He looks like he was built by a god – a god with a twisted sense of humor – but you could care less. You think he’s perfect.

“You’re beautiful.” You tell him honestly – not wanting him to think you were focusing only on his burns – and he looks almost bashful at your words, letting a small chuckle escape him as he gently picks up one of your hands to press a quick kiss on the back of your knuckles.

“Look who’s talking.” He fires back at you, as he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips apart. It should be embarrassing how wet you are from a little teasing, but Touya looks absolutely enthralled. 

“Is all this for me?” he muses to himself softly. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he bends down and swipes his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan loudly and try to slam your legs closed on impulse, but Touya is faster – forcing them to stay open with a hand on each inner thigh as he continues to lap at your pussy.

You whimper involuntarily from the ministrations, and Touya squeezes your thighs as he comes back up. “I know, I know love. I can’t wait any longer either. Goddamn-“ he almost snarls; his hands immediately going to his belt, as he unfastens it and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you is letting someone like me do this to them.” he mutters as he pushes his pants down to just past mid-thigh, allowing his dick to spring free – and through you’ve never seen a man’s cock until now – you’re certain that it’s the prettiest one that you’ll ever see.

It’s long and thick and curves slightly upwards. It’s as pale as the undamaged parts of his skin and you think it looks quite lovely. You’re a little nervous about the size of it, but Touya doesn’t allow you to look at it for long, before he’s lining himself up to your entrance.

You swallow thickly as you feel how big and hot the head is pressed up against your tight entrance, and Touya must sense your hesitation, because he drapes himself over you, supporting himself on his hands, as he takes both your hands in one of his own, and gently pins them above your head, stooping down to kiss you once more.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips hotly. “I’ll make you feel so good. Just lie back and breathe for me, my love.”

And with that, he slowly pushes himself in.

The stretch is delicious and you know that he’s ruined you for any other potential man. But there’s never been anyone else, has there? From the moment you officially met, it’s always been him. It will only ever be him.

Touya is cursing above you, but you can’t hear him – too lost in your own pleasure. It isn’t long before he’s picking up a steady rhythm, his hips hitting against yours with a wet smack. You’re so wet from his earlier teasing that he glides in and out with little resistance, and you feel your legs starting to shake from the waves of pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“Gods, how are you so tight?” Touya groans as he leans down to capture your lips with his. You kiss him back eagerly, wishing that your hands were free so you could wrap them around his neck, but he only tightens his grip on them when he feels you start to resist against his hold. He pulls back after a moment to take in your pretty face and glassy eyes, his hips not slowing down, as they continue to rut into yours.

“You’re mine.” He snarls hotly, swooping down to suck a mark onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“You’re mine- fuck it, you’re mine, no one else’s.” He sucks another mark onto the other side of your neck, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, as something in your lower stomach snaps – the wet sounds of your union becoming louder as you cum around his cock. Touya’s hips falter for a fraction of a second as he registers what happened, before he the last shred of restraint he had snaps, and starts pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring your sobs as he stimulates your already oversensitive insides.

“When you told me… that they had engaged you to that bastard-” He hisses lowly in your ear, as you continue to sob. “-I almost burnt your damn village to the ground. How dare they try to take what’s mine?”

A dark look enters his blue irises. “I wanted to fuck you right here in this temple afterwards – send a message to your parents and anyone else who thought they could have you, that you were spoken for.”

“Touya- I’m-“ you barely manage to choke out in between sobs. Your body feels like it’s on fire from his words. You feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm quickly approaching, and you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel so good with the way he’s now mercilessly drilling into your insides. You had talked with your married friends about sex before, that was a given, but even they didn’t describe it as feeling this good.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll give you everything.”

“You!” You manage to scream out, voice cracking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you. “It’s you! I’ve always belonged to you—you alone! I’ve only ever loved—Oh GODS!” you wail as you cum around his length again. The glint in Touya’s eyes become frantic and his hips stutter as you spasm violently around him. He finally let’s go of your wrists, in favour of grabbing your hips with both hands to pull you down onto him and meet his powerful thrusts.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He breathes. “Fuck love; I’m going to fill you full of me. Let the whole world – the gods – all of them, know you belong to me-“

You keen at his words, and he manages to grind out a breathy, “Shit-“ as he spills himself inside you, swooping down to capture your lips with his rough ones again, as he fucks his cum into you. You’re so blissed out, all you can do is wrap your arms tightly around his leathery neck, until his hips still; still buried deep inside of you.

Eventually you break the kiss, but Touya makes no move to get off of you. He moves his hands up from your hips, so he can take some of his weight off you, and rests his head on your collarbone, as he struggles to calm his palpating heart. You wriggle your hips and Touya grimaces, mouthing over one of the marks he sucked onto your neck.

“Wait.” He mumbles. “Give it a minute. It’s sensitive.” His comment pulls a laugh from you, and you feel him grin against your skin.

You stay joined like that until you feel his dick soften inside you, and Touya gently pulls out of you. You whimper at empty feeling, and close your legs as you feel a rush of fluid that you already know is a combination of both of your releases, leak out from in-between your legs. Touya smiles at your reaction, the staples in his face pulling slightly as he strokes the leg closest to him gently.

He rolls onto his back on the pillows beside you, and pulls you onto your side, so your head is on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart, and watch as his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. It almost lulls you to sleep, but Touya suddenly speaks up after a moment, catching your attention.

“I am the only one allowed to see you like this.” He rumbles low in his throat, running a warm hand down your side, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. “No man, no one. You belong to me. I’ll take such good care of you.”

“But you’re going to leave me again.” You whisper, hating how you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “You said so yourself: you have unfished business in the East still. Who knows when you’re coming back…Besides… No one can see you aside from me. How can I possibly explain this to anyone?”

“It’ll be different this time, I swear it.” Touya shushes you, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I’m going to be in the East for a while yet, but when I come back, I’m going to stay here with you, for a long time. No more disappearing acts for a while.”

You lift your head off his chest to stare at him in shock, to gage if he’s saying it to make you feel better, but you see nothing but honesty in his eyes. He touches your cheek. “I promise little one. I’ll make it work. I will stay with you. For as long as I can.”

You don’t mean to, but you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes and spill past your cheeks at his promise, as you place your head down on his scared chest and cry. You don’t know how long you stay like that, but Touya makes no effort to get up – simply holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as you weep.

It’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye to him every time he leaves. You feel like your heart is breaking inside of your ribcage, whenever he has to go. This time is no different, but it will certainly leave you feeling hollower than the other times that came before.

Eventually, once your tears have dried, you separate to get dressed and fix yourselves up. You’re straightening out your skirts as Touya tosses his dark traveling cloak back over his torso, obscuring his muscular chest from view. He must see you blushing, because he tosses you a grin over his shoulder at you, moving to grab your shoes and shawl for you from the front of the temple.

He kisses you as you wrap your shawl around yourself, and rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.” He tells you, gesturing around the temple. “For doing this. It means more to me than you know.” You nod in response, and he intertwines your hands together as he leads you to the temple entrance and you exit together. 

He kisses you deeply once more outside the temple. He has a pained expression on his face when he pulls away, and he looks like he wants to tell you something important, but something is holding him back. He’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand.

“I need you to promise me something while I’m gone.” He tells you seriously, and you nod, signaling for him to continue. He sucks in a sharp intake of breath.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of your health while I’m away. If someone comes to the apothecary with a strange sickness, or any signs of odd infections outside of a normal fever – I want you to go home and stay there.”

You furrow your brows, not understanding what he’s saying, but one look at his face tells you that he’s deadly serious and it’s not open for discussion.

You agree that you’ll be careful, and you’ll keep your eyes open for anything strange, and that seems to put him at ease. He kisses you once more before letting go of your hand, and slowly backs away from you. Once he’s a good distance away from you, he smiles sadly at you, before a raging torrent of blue flames engulf him once more, and he’s gone.

Life in the village goes on as normal for the next two months. The brightly coloured leaves that once decorated the trees surrounding your village have started to fall off the branches with large gusts of wind as winter draws closer.

You throw yourself into work at the apothecary, grateful for how busy it keeps you. You haven’t heard anything from Touya for a while now, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in the East that has him so tied up. You haven’t heard any news from the Eastern part of the county in a long time, so if something big is going on, your town will probably be one of the last places to know. You don’t see much sense in worrying about it though, so you divide your time between visiting Dabi’s temple, and Chiyo’s teachings.

You’ve almost forgotten about Touya’s cryptic warning – until the stranger shows up in town one day. (Or rather, stumbled in – since he didn’t even make it three feet from the town’s entrance before collapsing in the streets, leading to several concerned townspeople finding him and bringing him to the apothecary for treatment)

He’s malnourished and sicker than you’ve ever seen anyone in your life. You and Chiyo spend days caring for him, with no results.

He dies one week after arriving in town, and is buried just outside of the village borders. An unfortunate tragedy, but you can’t save everyone. A harsh lesson that your mentor has drilled into you. You never even figured out what was afflicting him, though Chiyo think’s it may have been an advanced case of pneumonia.

At first, it was just him.  

Then, another man got sick with symptoms eerily similar to what the stranger had.

Then it was two.

Then three.

Then twelve people in one day.

The number of infected only skyrocket from there.

Before you know it: there is an entire epidemic in your small town. Chiyo eventually figures out what it is, but by that point, eight people are dead and the number of people sick is quickly spiraling out of control.

Plague. The black plague of decay. Death.

Your parents beg you to come home, as they don’t want you around such a deadly sickness, and truthfully, you don’t want to be anywhere near it either – but you can’t leave Chiyo by herself. She’s the town’s only healer and she’s old. You know if something happens to her, the whole town is screwed, so you grit your teeth, mask up, and stay by her side.

For a while, things are going about as well as they can be. People are still dying at an alarming rate, but you and Chiyo somehow manage to stay healthy, and you keep trying to treat those who aren’t as sick the best you can with what you’ve got.

Then one day, you feel light-headed and nauseous out of the blue and you look down, only to notice an alarmingly dark black spot on your arm that you know wasn’t there the day before.

Everything goes downhill from there.

-----

Winter has arrived in your village full force, but you can’t see it. You haven’t seen anything outside of the four walls that make up your room for a while now.

You had caught the plague. The second you had shown Chiyo the black mark on your arm, she had immediately sent you away with some herbs crushed into a tablet for you to take to slow down the spread of the sickness.

Slow down being the key words. There was no cure for the decay plague. Once you had it, it was a death sentence. It was only a matter of time before it took your life.

Your parents had grabbed you and locked you in your room the moment they had seen you stumbling back from the apothecary. You hadn’t seen them face-to-face since. You only saw brief glimpses of them when they opened your door to slide food into your room on a tray, or when they came back to collect your dishes, though these days, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

They didn’t even have to let you back into the house once they saw the mark on your arm. But they still did without any hesitation. Despite knowing how ill you were going to become, they still insisted on taking care of you. You may not have agreed with their choices when it came to your personal life, but it was comforting to know that at the end of the day, your parents still loved you. Even if you went against everything they wanted for you.

A violent fit of coughing racks your frail body, and you automatically lift your arms to cover your mouth. When you pull your arm away, you cringe at the sight of red splattered across your forearm, before dropping it back down beside you on your bed with a muffled thud.

You can’t even look at your arms right now. Your skin, which used to be sun-kissed and clear, is now pale and speckled with ominous looking splotches of black, as the sickness makes its way through your body. You don’t even want to know what the rest of you looks like. You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirror since you were confined to your room. You’re not sure you’ll be able to handle what you see.

The room starts to spin around you and everything hurts. You close your eyes in a weak attempt to stop the jarring movement, but it does little to help you. Opening your eyes doesn’t make things better – your vison has become burry lately, and you can’t focus on anything anymore. Normally this would upset you, but you don’t have any strength left in you to care.

You know that you don’t have much time left. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you know your time is drawing closer. Based on the few times you’ve heard your mother – and on occasion, your normally stoic father – sob outside your door as they collect your untouched dishes, they know it too. You’ve held out longer than most people have, but you know that soon you’ll be making your way to the Underworld, it’s inevitable.

You only pray that all the visits you’ve made to Dabi’s temple over the last few months have paid off, and the Cremation God will be kind to you once he comes to collect you.

Dabi. His temple. Touya.

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the thought of your white-haired lover, as a single tear falls from your eye, and crashes onto your pillow, humble and silent. 

You’re never going to see him again. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s true. As far as you know, he’s still in the East while you’re here, dying in your room. As tempted as you’ve been to use his name to call him to you one last time, you won��t.

Powers or not, you don’t want him to potentially end up with the plague too. Not to mention, you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to remember you sick and frail as you are now. You’d rather have him remember you fondly: full of life and happy. There’s no need to put him through that kind of anguish.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wishing you could see him one last time-

Suddenly, your room feels unnaturally warm. It’s been very cold lately, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re dying that it makes your room feel colder than it should, but now your room is borderline sweltering.

You swear that you see a faint blue glow out of your blurry peripherals, followed by the tell-tale smell of something burning, before the glow dissipates into nothing. The intense heat remains and even though you can’t see very well, you know that someone is in the corner of your room.

“Who is it?” you manage to rasp out and you hear the stranger’s breath falter, as if they weren’t expecting you to be awake. The stranger takes three slow, purposeful strides until they are at your bedside, hovering over you. You blink hard, trying to see who the intruder is, but your vision must be getting worse, because all you can make out is a tall, white being above you.

You have no idea who, or what you’re looking at and are about to panic, until the figure bends slightly, and two familiar, warm, rough hands cradle your cheeks like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

Choked sobs rack your body despite how much the movement hurts you, because you know who’s by your side, even if you can’t make out his finer features. Your suspicions are confirmed the second you hear his low, gravelly voice.

“Beloved… what has happened to you?”

“Touya… is that you?” you whisper, and you feel his fingers tense under you. His thumbs swipe at your cheeks, even though you can’t seem to make any more tears to shed.

“I’m here beloved. I’m here now.” he rumbles quietly. He falls silent for a moment, then you hear him ask “ Why didn’t you call me to you?”

He sounds… sad… heartbroken even.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this…” you trail off, not knowing what else to say. Touya doesn’t seem to know either, but from the way he sighs, you think he’s holding back tears as well.

“Did I not tell you to be careful?” There is no anger behind his words. Just defeat. You don’t think it’s directed at you though.

“I know.” You tell him, wishing desperately that you could lift your arms up enough to touch his face like he is doing yours. “It just happened so suddenly. There was a strange man who got sick, and then the next thing we knew, almost the whole town was plague-ridden. I couldn’t leave Chiyo by herself.”

“I know.” Touya sighs. “Are you… are you comfortable?”

“I can’t see very well anymore… I think I’m dying very soon.” You admit softly. You manage to reach up to cover one of his hands with your cold one. “You shouldn’t be here… as much as I love seeing you one last time, you might catch the plague as well – I don’t want that for you.”

“The plague doesn’t affect me. Don’t worry yourself about it.” Touya murmurs gently, and you swear you faintly see something red and thick, roll down his face. He leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but suddenly your vision clears, and you’re able to see the best you have in weeks. You look up at him in wonder, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Instead of his normal dark clothes that you’re used to seeing him in; Touya is dressed in a flowing, white burial shroud that exposes his chest. It makes him look eirthral, like a ghost that had come back from the grave. What really concerns you though, is the right side of his face – the side closest to you. The burnt flesh on his lower jaw by his mouth is gone, and you swear that you see the bone underneath starting to appear.

“Touya—Touya what happened to you? What have you done to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me. It looks worse than it is.” Touya grumbles, dismissing your concerns. “The person that you should be worrying about, is you.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, love.” You tell him softly. “I’ve been sick for a while now… I’ve held out longer than a lot of other people have, but I think my luck is running out fast.”

This time you know you’re not seeing things. You watch in shock as a large droplet of blood oozes out from underneath the burnt skin under his eye and slowly rolls down his face, leaving a shiny red trail behind it as it makes its way down his ruined skin. You try to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but Touya beats you to it, releasing your cheeks long enough to turn away from you and compose himself.

“That crusty bastard. He promised me that he would keep it away from here… guess it got past him too-“ you hear Touya mutter under his breath. “It doesn’t matter now, gods… fuck.” He turns to face you again, and you see a red streak running along the side of his face, where he tried to wipe the blood tear away. His hands return to yours, and he wraps them up tightly.

“I tried… I tried so fucking hard to keep it contained. I thought, if I could contain it to the East, then it wouldn’t spread and it wouldn’t come here, to you. Even though I’ve seen it happen, so many times over the years. I thought I could change it.”

“Touya what are you talking about, you’re not making any sense.” You beg him, but he doesn’t seem to hear you, too wrapped up in his own head, as he squeezes your hands in his own.

 “It’s not fair. You’re so full of life. I don’t want you to die like this.”

Something in his gaze shifts and the sadness from earlier is gone. Instead, a determined look has appeared in its place. He cradles the back of your head and neck with one of his hands as he gently lifts your head up to him, flinching at your pained whimpers.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you urgently.

“Of course.” You whisper, your vison is starting to darken again, but you try and keep your focus on Touya’s bright blue eyes.

“I can stop this.” He murmurs. “I can stop this and save you and what’s left of your town. But you need to make a deal with me. Do you accept?”

“A deal…? Stop this… I don’t…” you whisper, and Touya squeezes your hand, desperate to keep your attention on him.

“The full extent of my abilities come with a price. I can save you, but at a cost.”

“What’s the price?” you find yourself asking. You’re not sure how he intends to save anyone from something as severe as the plague with no cure; much less yourself, considering that you’re almost certainly on death’s doorstep, but you’re curious. Even if you’re beyond saving, maybe your town still has a chance.

“You.”

“Me.” You echo, still fighting to keep your gaze on him. “Why?”

“I told you already, you’re mine, you’ve always been mine. But this will bind us to each other indefinitely. Your life will become mine in exchange for me removing the sickness from you and your village. Do we have a deal?”

“Am I really worth that much?” you tease hoarsely, as you feel your eyes start to close against your will.

“You mean more to me than anything in this pathetic life.” You hear Touya grind out. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He squeezes your hand, and his next words sound almost desperate. “I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my lifetime and I’ve lived a long time. Please let me do this for you.”

You know that under different circumstances, you wouldn’t agree to anything like this. Touya’s words are carrying an underlying weight to them, and you know there’s something that he’s not telling you. Normally, before agreeing to anything, you’d make sure everything was out in the open and that there weren’t any catches to your deal… but really, how much time did you have to ask about the finer details?

You were out of time. You knew it, and he knew it too.

Really, how bad would it be being his? Wasn’t that what you always wanted anyways?

“I accept.” You whisper, as your world fades to black, not even sure if Touya heard you or not.

He did.

The next few moments are a whirlwind. You feel Touya stand up above you and his hands go to your left forearm – to the spot where you first noticed the sickness. It’s arguably the worst spot on your body. The darkness has spread underneath your skin and takes up almost your full forearm now.

You feel his warm hands press into the skin of your forearm, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then his hands start to heat up, hotter and hotter, and you can smell something burning. You don’t know whether it’s your flesh or his, but you don’t have the energy to scream out, even though the pain is excruciating.

There’s a bright blue flash and you feel something being seared into your arm – in the same spot where your original plague mark was. Heat spreads through your body like a wildfire, and you feel like you’re being burned from the inside out. Suddenly, as quickly as the pain started it’s gone.

You’re shaking, gasping for air as you try to control your rapidly palpating heart, but you can’t open your eyes. Exhaustion hits you full force, and you feel what little strength you had left in you bleed out. Touya is still there, and you feel him slowly ease you back down onto your pillow, placing your arm down at your side once more.

“Rest now beloved. I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner than he says those words, you feel yourself slip off into slumber, and you allow the darkness to take you.

You wake to the sun streaming across your face

It’s the first time you’ve seen any hint of the sun in months, and at first, you think that you’ve died, but the tell-tale signs of stiffness in your muscles tell you that you’re still very much alive, if not very dehydrated.

The thought draws you up short.

You’re alive. You’re alive when you probably shouldn’t be. That means… Touya�� he’d done it.

A burning feeling races through your left forearm and draws you up short. You slowly bring your arm up to look at what’s causing the pain, only for your eyes to widen impossibly.

The dark stain under your skin caused by the plague is gone, as are all of the other signs of sickness that had marked your body. What is on your arm, is nothing short of confusing.

A strange symbol is on your arm, in the spot you remember Touya gripping the hardest. A long, straight line runs horizontally done your forearm with three smaller lines running through it. Another long, straight line along the top of the first line completes the marking, and you stare at it in shock.

It covers the spot where you had your original plague mark, almost as if you’d never had it at all.

You reach out and gingerly touch the mark, only for your door to open suddenly – causing you to yank your nightgown sleeve down in a hurry. You glance over to see both of your parents standing in your doorway. It seems to take them a moment to process that you’re awake, and seemingly plague free, before they rushed to your bedside and have pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re awake! Thank gods you’re awake! We thought that we lost you for sure!” your mother sobs, as she clutches you to herself. You’re shocked, and you ask her what she means, only for her to hold you tighter.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. You wouldn’t wake up! Nothing we did worked.” Your mother cries, and you feel your heart drop.

Three days? What did that mean for everyone else?

“We’ve heard from Chiyo that all of the patients at the apothecary have also recovered. She’s not sure how, but the plague seems to have disappeared.” Your father states gruffly, as he strokes your hair. “It’s some sort of miracle.”

Yes, and his name is Touya. You think to yourself. Just what was he, to be able to have the power to dispel a sickness as deadly as the decay plague from an entire town?

“We do have a visitor downstairs, if you feel up to meeting with him.” Your mother informs you as she passes you a cup of water. “Some of the priests are visiting homes on Chiyo’s orders, to check in on families and see if anyone is still sick. The head priest from the Endeavor temple is here. I’m sure he’d love to check in on you now that you’re awake.”

You don’t particularly want anyone to see you right now, knowing that you must look awful and you would much rather go find Touya, provided that he was still in town somewhere – but you nod anyways. Your mother tells you to take your time getting ready, as she and your father leave your room, saying that she would tell the priest to wait downstairs.

The process to get ready is painfully slow. Your muscles are weak from a lack of use, but you’re able to wash yourself if you move carefully. You slip on a clean dress, making sure that the mark on your forearm is fully covered, and run a brush through your wet locks before deciding that was enough, and gingerly make your way downstairs.

You slowly make your way into the living room where you see the priest from Endeavor’s temple sitting in one of the armchairs, waiting for you. He’s a large man, dressed in Endeavor’s traditional colours: dark blues and fiery oranges and reds. Your parents leave when you enter to give you some privacy and the priest points to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat girl.” He tells you, and you sit without a word. You fidget uncomfortably as he looks you over carefully, before finally speaking. “Chiyo specifically asked me to come check on you and see how you’re doing. She wanted to thank you for all your help at the beginning of this mess. She wanted to come herself, but she has a few things to take care of at the apothecary. She sends her regards.”

“Oh, it was my honor. I couldn’t leave her there all alone.” You tell him, lifting your arm to wave off his praise without thinking about it. You realize your mistake too late, as the sleeve covering your forearm slowly rolls down to your elbow, revealing the mark etched into your skin.

The priest stops dead the second he glances at your forearm, ad his eyes widen impossibly. He points shakily to the mark etched into your arm. “Where did you get that from girl? Who did that to your arm?”

You hesitate. How can you possibly explain Touya to him? No one aside from you could see him. They’d call you mad if you tried to be honest, and would cast you out from your home. What would you do then?

‘I… I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.” You mutter, clutching your arm close to you. “Why, what’s so special about this mark?”

“That is Dabi’s seal.” The priest hisses as he snaps his fingers at you, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “I haven’t seen a mark like that for decades now, but he is closely connected to my lord Endeavor and I’d recognize it anywhere. It has been rumored that he puts that mark onto people who enter into deals with him. I’m wondering how you ended up with it on your arm.”

Your world crumbles around you at his words, and the illusion that you had unknowingly walked into, shattered.

Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya-

Touya is Dabi.

How could you not have seen it sooner? Looking back on it, the signs were obvious: how he knew so much about Dabi – or rather, himself. How he could seamlessly travel across large areas with very little effort. How he had powers that far surpassed any mage or race you’d heard of. How he never seemed to age… How his body had lasted so long despite the burns that were very clearly getting worse as time passed by-

The thought draws you up short. A hazy memory of Touya standing over your deathbed. A chunk of his flesh missing from the side of his mouth… looking more worn down than you could ever remember seeing him… Suddenly, you have to find him.

And you think you know exactly where he is.

“I-I have to go.” You mutter, shakily rising to your feet. The priest tries to get you to sit back down, but you shove him off. You barely have time to throw a light shawl around your shoulders and put your shoes on, before you’re running out the door in the direction of Dabi’s temple, ignoring the surprised shouts of your parents.

You are reminded how weak your body currently is, as you have to stop and catch your breath several times on the way to the temple, ignoring the looks that a few curious townspeople are giving you, as you eventually make your way to the temple.

This time, you don’t need to reach for the doors, since they seem to open on their own for you. You step through the entrance and they close behind you softly, shutting you away from the sunshine outside. You notice the temple is seemingly empty, but the prayer candles are lit at the base of Dabi’s statue, and the flames are blue.

He’s here, somewhere, you know it, you feel it, but for some reason, he hasn’t shown himself to you yet. It makes you worry and prompts you to call out his name softly.

“I’m here, beloved.”

The familiar rasp of his voice echoes from behind the larger-than-life sculpture. You smile in spite of yourself, and move closer to the sound of his voice, where you can just make out a shadowy figure partly concealed behind the base of the stature.

“Don’t come any closer.” The harsh growl makes you pause.

“Why?” you ask the shadow and you see two familiar blue eyes staring back at you from the gloom.

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before you shake your head. “I don’t care. You know I don’t care about what you look like.” You swallow before adding on. “I think you and I need to talk about some things… about you.”

“So, you figured it out?” the figure rumbles, and you nod.

“There are some things I need to know. Things that I need to understand. But please, I just want to see you. Come out.” You extend your hand towards the shadow, and hear him sigh deeply, before shuffling closer to you.

A burnt hand takes hold of yours, dwarfing it, and the man—no, the deity, pulls himself into the light provided by the candles. He watches as your face changes from confusion, to shock realization, then to—

He doesn’t think he can do it; he can’t watch as you reject him. He knows that he doesn’t look pretty. He looks like a walking corpse and he knows this. He looks more dead than alive and honestly, he is. He knew he shouldn’t hang around the temple, knowing that you’d eventually come looking for him once you had recovered enough, but he’d wanted to see you one last time before he made the inevitable trip back home to the underworld – even if it meant you seeing him like this—

“Oh, Touya. Did… did you do this to yourself to cure me?” you whisper so softly; he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. He risks glancing back at you, only to see that your face hasn’t twisted in disgust upon his reveal. You’re holding his hand so tightly, like you’re afraid that he’ll crumble to ash if you don’t, and maybe he would, he’s not sure anymore.

Your eyes meet his, and he sees unshed tears in them. There is no repulsion or fear in your eyes like he thought there might be, there is only concern and worry for him, and he feels his once dead heart thunder in his burnt chest.

He wishes he could feel the texture of your soft hands on him again, but the burns are deep and have spread everywhere now. All he can feel is pressure on his hand where you’re holding it in your own. Suddenly, he feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time.

You stare back at him, trying your best not to shed the tears you feel forming – knowing that they won’t help anything. What remained of Touya’s once beautiful, pale skin is gone. His entire body is covered in deep russet scaring. The mess of staples that he hadn’t bothered to remove or replace, were scattered across his body where they had once held the damaged and healthy skin together. Parts of his body – where you assume the skin had been thinnest on him – are burned almost completely down to the bone. The skin by one side of his mouth is almost gone, and the flesh near his wrist on his other hand – the one that he didn’t give you – has been burnt down to where you can see the tendons flexing when he moves.

He's still wearing the white robes from before. He looks like a wraith, a sight that would terrify even the bravest of people, but it stirs no such feelings in you.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, not knowing what else to say. He shakes his head.

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Oh.” You croak, not sure if his answer made you feel any better. It doesn’t, but you try not to let it show on your face.

The deity gently removes his hand from yours and moves several paces back from you, as if he’s trying not to upset you. You feel a lump rise in your throat, but push it down. “Did you do that to yourself to cure me from the plague?” you ask him again and he only nods once.

“You and what’s left of your town. I told you; I make good on my promises. It’s the blowback that gets me. Shigaraki won’t like what I’ve done, but he can’t do anything about it.”

You frown at the mention of the other name. You swear that you’ve heard it before somewhere, but you can’t place where from. Maybe if you remember, you’ll ask him about it later, but right now, you have other things you need him to clarify.

“Can I ask you something, my lord?” Dabi snorts at your formalities, and waves you off.

“Please. None of that from you, Princess.  If I wanted you to call me by my titles, I would’ve made you do it when we first met.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. You’d been slightly worried that knowing his identity would change the dynamic of your relationship with him. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case.  

“How come I could see you when no one else could?” you question him. Dabi pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain himself.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He responds after a moment. “We walk amongst mortals all the time; we’re just hidden in plain sight. Some humans are different than others, and are able to see us for what we really are, but most mortals can’t see through our disguises. I choose to be invisible, it’s much easier to do my job that way. Normally, the only time humans can see me is when I come to collect their soul, or when I let them see me purposefully. But you,” he fixes you with his intense stare that you’ve grown used to.

“you were an abnormity. I’ve only ever met one or two other mortals in my time alive that were able to see me, even when I was invisible to everyone else.”

“What did you do to them?” you don’t know what prompts you to ask. Dabi looks away from you.

“I killed them.”

“Why though?” You’re not sure if you want to know his reasoning, but this may be the only time you get to ask him.

“Because no one is supposed to see me – it’s taboo. The only time I’m supposed to be visible to mortals is when I come to take you to the Underworld with me. I can’t let people wander around telling others that Death himself is coming. Do you know how much chaos that would cause on the surface?” Dabi snickers to himself.

“But I could see you, and you didn’t kill me.” You press. Dabi lets a small smile pull at what remains of the muscles in his cheeks.

“No, I didn’t.” he agrees quietly.

“Were you going to?” you ask, remembering how tense he was the first time you met face to face.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?” You’re not mad about the revelation. You’re just curious. What made you so different from the others that came before you?

“I was going to… But something told me not to.” Dabi trails off, seemingly not having the words to describe why he did what he did. “I couldn’t tell you why I hesitated back then… but I’m glad I did.” The hint of a smile ghosts across his face. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t predict everything else that came afterwards. But I’m certainly not complaining.”

Your face flushes a brilliant shade of crimson when you realize he’s talking about when you fucked in this temple… his temple.

You can’t bear to bring yourself to meet the smug look in his eyes, so you try to compose yourself best you can, but it’s hard when you feel his oceanic eyes boring into your being.

“I… I just have one final question to ask you.” You stammer out, trying to fight down the colour in your cheeks that you know he can see. The burnt deity nods, signaling for you to continue. You suck in a breath, suddenly nervous for some reason.

“What… what exactly does this mark that you’ve given me mean? To you, that is.” You ask, touching the mark on your arm with your other hand, and you swear that you hear Touya- no, Dabi, bite back a moan.

“It marks you as mine. To humans and other gods alike, it means you are mine and under my protection.” He growls, a possessive edge in his raspy voice.

“Is that all?” you probe softly. Dabi bites back a laugh, and fixes you with a warm expression, blue eyes glowing like a cat in the dimly lit temple.

“What do you think?”

He answers your question with another question, but it’s weighted. The mark definitely has another meaning to it, you’re sure of it, but you want to hear it from him.

“I think it means something more… but I want to be sure. I don’t remember the finer details of our conversation, since I was… well… dying.” You shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. You don’t particularly want to be reminded of that time.

Dabi must see it in your expression, because he immediately drops the teasing act and takes a hesitant step towards you, slowly, as if he’s trying not to scare you.

He points at your arm and you lift it up so he can see the symbol burned into your skin. “That is my personal mark. It means that you’re not only under my protection… but it also marks you as my consort.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you can tell that he’s not joking. He’s deadly serious.

“Your consort? You mean, like… like a bride?” you breathe, hardly daring to believe it. Dabi cracks a smile.

“So that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Yes, you are. Unlike some of my kin, I don’t take multiple wives. It’s just you.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you have to fight yourself to stay upright.

“Oh gods. I’m the bride of a god.” You mutter, swaying slightly in place. “You’re a god. You’re an actual god.”

The burned deity only chuckles. “I can’t believe that you never figured it out. It’s not like I was trying to hide it from you at the end there.”

“I mean… It’s obvious you weren’t human, but I didn’t think you were a God.” You mutter. “You just… you acted so… casual. Not like what I’d expect a God to act-- not that I’m complaining of course!” you add on as you hear Dabi let out an amused snort.

You point up at the statue of Dabi- or rather, him. “Besides, it’s not like I knew what you looked like. You’re always depicted with a hood over your face.” You frowned. “Why is that exactly? You’re not wearing a hood. You’ve never worn one when you’re with me. The only time I ever saw you with one was when you were traveling. Not as you are now. You never let any of your disciples see you?”

“They depict me like that because it’s easier that way.” Dabi explains smoothly. “My face changes depending on what part of my… cycle I’m in. Sometimes I look like how I did when we first met – other times I look like… well, this.” He gestures to himself after a brief pause. It makes your heart ache.

“My kind are supposed to be divine beings. Perfect. I am not. I don’t need to be depicted looking like a walking corpse to the few people who still worship me and visit my temples.”

His gaze flicks back up to you. “You were never supposed to see me like this.”

You know that you shouldn’t psychoanalyze him, but you can’t help but find him endlessly fascinating. He may be a god – a divine, primordial being – but his emotions were so very human.

He may go by many different names, but Dabi was Touya. Your Touya, the man you fell in love with over the years you spent getting to know him. The man who would willingly burn down your village to keep you by his side, only to save it in its time of need, for you.

What he looked like was irrelevant.

“What you look like doesn’t bother me.” You tell him softly, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “It never has. You know that.” Touya’s muscles flinch, like he’s fighting against moving away from you, but he stays rooted to the spot as you slowly advance, until you’re close enough to place a hand on the exposed part of his chest – right above his heart.

“I will love you no matter what form you take, because no matter what: you’re still Touya. You’re still the man I love. God or not, you always will be.”

You lean forward and press your lips to what is left of the flesh around his mouth, and you feel him release a shuddering breath, as his arms come up to wrap themselves tightly around you. You pull away slightly to tuck your head against his chest, returning his embrace, ignoring the burnt smell that always clings to him; and you feel him rest his chin on your head.

You don’t know how long you stay like that for, but eventually Touya reluctantly removes his chin from his spot on your head, and lowers it so he can speak directly into your ear.

“I have to go.”

You try and pull away so you can look him in the eyes, but his arms keep you tightly pressed up against him, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll turn to smoke and disappear.

“But… you said that we’re bound to each other now? You promised me that you wouldn’t leave again-“

“I know, but this will be the last time I leave without you, I promise.” He rasps in your ear. “This cycle is at the end. I’m dying.”

You feel your heart clench painfully at his words, and suddenly, you’re taken back to the spring, where he took you to his temple for the first time, and where he unknowingly to you, explained his history. Where he also revealed that gods themselves could die, however difficult it was.

“You’re… you’re dying? How, why? I thought you said it was almost impossible for you to die?”

You feel Touya shake his head and squeeze you again. “It’s different in my case. I die a lot. But the difference is: I come back. It just takes a while.”

“I don’t understand, please Touya, what do you mean?” you feel frantic, and cling to his robes like small child. “I-I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t.” Touya promises you firmly, pulling back to fix you with an unwavering look. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’m more like a force of nature then a ‘traditional’ god. My power is great, but it destroys my body and I ‘die’. However,” his eyes narrow dangerously as he thumbs over the mark on your arm, “I’m a god of the Underworld, and we play by different rules than those that reside upstairs.” He points a finger mockingly up to the roof of the temple.

“I have what you humans call a ‘cycle’. Whenever I ‘die’ I return home, so that I can rest and regenerate my body. Eventually I come back to how I was before I got all of my scaring, and start again. The cycle repeats itself over and over again on an endless loop.” He sends you a crooked grin.

“That’s the other half of my secret: Cremation and Reincarnation tend to go hand in hand. But nobody needs to know that except for you.”

“How many times have you done this?” you breathe, but Touya only shakes his head, shooting you a forced smile.

“More times than I can count. I’m not the oldest God in the pantheon Sweetheart, not by a long shot, but compared to you, I’m ancient.”

“Oh.” You murmur. trying to fight down the blush at the stark differences in your ages, and Touya’s smile becomes more relaxed. You fist your hands at the front of his robe and try your best to return his smile. “So, you’re going to come back… for me?”

“Yes. I’ll eventually return to my original form. But it’s going to take me a while to regenerate.”

“Oh gods, you mean I’m going to be an old woman by the time you come back to get me.” You joke, trying your best to lighten the somber mood, and Touya barks out a laugh.

“No, no. It won’t take that long, I promise… but, that being said, it won’t be anytime soon either. I’m sorry.”

You nod, and try to relax your grip on his robes. You smooth your hands over the soft fabric, and inwardly you hum in delight, as you feel Touya’s abnormally warm hands run down your waist. He brings one hand up to your chin and gently tilts your face up to meet his.

“I will be back for you. Make no mistake about that.”

You feel his other hand glide up to your left forearm, the one that now bares his mark, and press on it possessively. “This binds us together. I’ll make good on my promise, and when I come back for you: I’m going to take you around the world with me, just like I promised you I would. I’ll give you everything.”

You feel your eyes water with his declaration. The sincerity in his eyes tells you that he’s not bluffing. He will be back for you the next time he comes to your humble village, and he will show you the world if you so choose it.

“…How will I know?” You finally manage to ask him quietly.

“How will you know what?”

“How will I know that you’re coming back to get me?”

Touya lets a deep laugh rumble out of his throat, and pushes his face close to your ear so he can whisper directly into it:

“Oh, don’t worry… you’ll just know.”

-----

Three years have passed since that day.

Spring has come again, symbolizing rebirth and renewal, and yet seemingly nothing has changed in your little village. You still work at the apothecary with Chiyo, but now you spend most of your time at Dabi’s temple, keeping it clean, and trying to educate those who visit it, more about the reclusive Cremation God.

More people have started to visit the temple in the three years since you last saw Touya, and you’d like to think that he’d be pleased if he could see it. You’re headed to the temple now to do your daily cleaning, and make sure that everything is orderly, before you head back home for the night.

You smile as you watch a group of small children run past you, as you think back to the day that Touya had left you one final time.

Word had spread like wildfire after you had returned from the temple that day – about how you had made a deal with the elusive Cremation God himself to cure the town of its plague, and how you now bore his mark on your own skin, binding you to him.

You thought that you’d be ostracized, a pariah in your town – but surprisingly, the majority of people seemed to accept it with very little backlash. You suppose that’s the closest to thanks that you’ll get for playing a part in saving your town from destruction, but you’ll take it.

More people do tend to keep their distance from you now, largely in part due to your lover’s fearsome reputation, but you don’t hold it against them.

They’ve started calling you Shaoha – Death Woman. Normally, it’s a derogatory name for a demon or witch, but you know they don’t mean it in that way, and you can’t help but find it fitting given the circumstances and your ties to the Death God himself.

You smile sadly in spite of yourself as you make your way through the forest trail towards Dabi’s temple, leaving the village behind you.

You dress mostly in black or deep blues these days, mourning the fact that you haven’t seen your god in years now. He promised you that he would eventually be back for you once he had healed, before you were old and gray, but you wished that he would have given you a rough estimation of how long that would take, because with each day that passes, you miss him more and more.

Your friends have started families of their own, and while you never had the urge to have children of your own, seeing them happy with their husbands makes you wish that Touya was here with you. Your friends give you sympathetic smiles, and try and comfort you best they can. While you’re grateful that they try, it’s not the same.

It’s strange: you’re surrounded by people who care for you, and yet; you feel more alone now then you ever did before.

You reach Dabi’s temple and push the doors open, finding a few people milling about, paying their respects inside, and the sight pleases you greatly. Ever since it was revealed that he had been behind the disappearance of the plague, the townspeople had started coming to the temple more frequently to pay homage to him. You’re glad that you had cleaned up the temple beforehand, even if it was just for you and him initially.

Several of the people take notice of you, and they quickly file out to allow you to do your daily inspection. After deeming everything to be orderly, you make your way back to your home, just as the sun is starting to disappear behind the tree-line.

You reach your house just as dusk has fallen, and you talk with your parents over dinner for a while before heading to bed. As grateful as you are for their company and their efforts to keep you occupied, the constant ache in your chest never fully dissipates, even when you aren’t alone. 

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you send out a silent goodnight to Touya, hoping that he can hear you, wherever he may be. Just as you have done every night for the last three years.

You hope that wherever he is, he knows how much you miss him.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You open your eyes again and your room is pitch black, letting you know that it’s the dead of night. For a moment, you lay there confused, wondering why you’ve woken up at a seemingly random time, only to realize that you feel different.

You don’t feel physically sick, and the sensation that is coursing through your body like liquid fire in your veins doesn’t feel ominous or wrong, but you suddenly have the intense urge to get up and leave. Like you have to go somewhere urgently.

Your forearm – the one that bears Touya’s mark – feels hot. You trace it absentmindedly, quietly musing that the last time it burned like that was when he gave it to you--

Something clicks in your sleep addled mind, and you slowly sit up and push the covers off of you as you stand. You get dressed in long, dark skirts, and throw a traveling cloak around your shoulders for good measure – knowing deep down that you won’t be coming back.

As you walk through the hallways of your dark home like a ghost, you crack open the door to your parents room to gaze fondly at their sleeping figures. You send them a silent I love you, before closing their door, thanking them for everything. You pad silently through your house until you reach the front door, and pull it open soundlessly, stepping out of it for the final time, before shutting it firmly behind you.

You don’t look back.

You feel like a wraith as you walk through the deserted streets of your town, taking in each and every shop as you pass. The bright, pale moonlight is your only source of light as you walk, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of Dabi’s temple.

The burning in your forearm has lessened considerably and you know this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. You step inside, and slowly make your way to the foot of the hooded god’s statue. You smile slightly and take a seat facing the entrance doors that you didn’t bother closing, allowing moonlight to spill into the dark temple. You sit and you wait. You vow that you’ll wait all night if you have to.

You don’t have to wait for long.

There’s a tell-tale flash of blue outside the temple and a blast of searing heat follows, before everything stills again. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps approaching the temple makes your heartbeat quicken, and the tall silhouette of a man spills across the floor to where you’re sitting at the altar.

A familiar man dressed in white funeral shrouds enters the temple, and makes his way towards you. You can’t help but smile lovingly as you take him in. Even though he looks incredibly different from the last time you saw him, you’d recognize Touya anywhere.

Gone are the dark scars and staples that wreaked havoc on his skin. The man, the god, that stands before you, has skin as pale as snow, almost blending into the white of his shroud. He looks like he’s bathed in moonlight, with eyes as bright and blue and beautiful as the flames he wields. Upon closer inspection. you still see faint seams in his skin where his burns were previously. A remanent of his past life, and one that you find incredibly endearing.

He is not perfect, but neither are you. You selfishly think that maybe you were made for each other.

He stands before you, seemingly at a loss for words, but his deep turquoise eyes tell you everything you need to know. You, however, have quite a few things you want to say to him. So, you start with the obvious.

“I’ve missed you.” You tell him quietly, and he smiles, cerulean eyes looking sad.

“I know. But I’m here now, so that’s got to count for something right?”

“It means everything.” You confirm breathlessly as he cups your cheek, running his thumb across your soft skin. You shamelessly lean into his touch and watch as he smiles at you.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “I’ve been ready for a long time. You kept me waiting long enough.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich in your ears.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. There are so many things I want to show you.” His free hand sneaks down and intertwines with yours. “I make good on my promises, you know.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I do.”

His heart – the organ in his chest, that he was sure had stopped working after his fall from grace – thunders into irregularity in his chest. Now he’s sure that it beats for you, and you alone.

You, the first person in a long, long time, who’s made him feel something aside from hatred and scorn. The first person to see past the scars, the first one to see him at his worst and still show him unconditional love where others couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

He loves you, and he always will.

He lifts the hand that’s still laced with his, to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, sending you a smile that makes you melt.

“Let’s go home.”

FIN

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Past is Beyond Our Control

Chapter 1: A Sheep in Wolves' Clothing

Rated T | Vio/Shadow | Modern Slasher AU (Heavily Inspired by Until Dawn (2015) | 4,241 words, more soon

"Six."

“Fuck me,” Vio groans as he finally grips the handle. Is he seriously about to run from a real-life actual murderer through a creepy basement, all while barefoot and wearing a fluffy purple robe?

“Five.”

Yes, Vio decides, ripping the door open. Yes, I am.

My entry for @fsfrightfight week 3! Look out for the second chapter next week. I apologize for posting like this, but the first half of my October was insane. Glad I can share work I'm genuinely happy with, now that I have a bit more time on my hands.

Read it on AO3 (RECOMMENDED) or under the cut (with author's warnings AT THE END):

11:04 P.M.

Coming tonight was a bad idea.

Vio pulls the fluffy purple robe tighter around himself as he pokes his head out the door. “Seriously, guys?” he shouts, to no immediate answer. “Even the scrunchie?”

Vio runs a hand through his hair, still damp at the edges from his bath. Great. He’s stuck for the night in a creepy massive lodge on an isolated snowy mountain, owned by the parents of a friend whose brother mysteriously disappeared one year ago. One year exactly, actually, hence the group reuniting while home their own families on college break.

It still makes no sense that Shadow would invite them all to return for the anniversary, but Vio just couldn’t bring himself to refuse. Not when it had been Shadow asking, and not when he still felt partially responsible for Link’s death.

Even with his low hopes for the evening, he still found himself disappointed. The second they all entered the lodge, after a long and cold walk from the cable car station, Zelda and Blake had been immediately at each other’s throats. Reed gets, like, exhaustingly emotional any time Shadow speaks, and Shadow is being weirdly avoidant despite him being the one to invite them all back. It’s cold, everyone either hates or feels indifferent towards each other, and the memory of Link—now assumed dead—looms over them all.

So Vio took a bath to avoid their bullshit. Sue him.

“Blake?” Vio calls into the dark hallway. The lodge is simultaneously open-concept and cramped, with a second floor revolving around the lower foyer’s fireplace and massive chandelier. Vio looks over the railing and furrows his brow. Where the others had been arguing around the fireplace just an hour or two ago, there is only darkness. “Reed?”

Vio flicks the hallway light switch, only to be confront by a single red balloon floating near the stairs. “What the hell?”

A grandfather clock chimes loudly. Vio thinks of the jumpscares in horror games he, Shadow, and occasionally Link used to play in middle school.

Shaking his head, Vio steels his nerves. He passes the balloon on his way down the stairs, half-expecting for the others to perform a jumpscare of their own.

“Guys?” Vio calls out again, his voice weaker than before. Not scared, but not exactly annoyed, either. Unnerved, for good reason—the lodge’s main floor is empty, dark, silent, and cold.

He spots another balloon across the foyer, next to a closed door. The home movie theater, Vio recalls from years of staying with the Farore twins over winter break. A chill runs down his back as he opens the door.

More silence and darkness greet him. Vio reaches for his phone to use its flash, but realizes that it must have been confiscated along with his clothing.

“Oh, come on!”

He turns to go back upstairs, but faces a closed door. Vio releases a startled yelp and reached for the handle, but somehow…

“I wouldn’t bother with that,” mocks an unfamiliar voice. It echoes around the room from an unseen origin, so distorted that the speaker is unidentifiable.

Vio stumbles backwards, bumping up against a leather recliner.

“I have so much to show you,” the voice promises. The giant screen comes to life, illuminating the framed posters from Mr. Farore’s most famous horror films. It seems to show some kind of camera feed, although it can’t possibly be live. Vio watches himself, from just a few hours ago, hiking up the mountain trail in a heavy winter coat.

“What the fuck?” Vio exclaims, gripping the nearby seat.

“A lost little lamb,” the voice narrates with almost deranged fondness. “Do you think he has any idea of what lies ahead?”

Vio watches himself leave the frame. “Why are you showing me this?” he cries, yanking on the locked doorknob.

“Why are you watching?”

The shot abruptly cuts to a new location and subject. Vio forgets his escape at the sight of Shadow, restrained against a wooden board in dingy dark shed. He struggles against the ties, glancing over to Blake, tied up in the same manner beside him.

“Shadow!” Vio cries as the modulated voice speaks again. Not to him, though—to them.

“Now for this experiment,” the voice says, “we'll need the cooperation of our two test subjects, Blake and Shadow.”

They both cry out in fear and rage, completely helpless. The camera pans away from them, now focusing on—

“Reed!” calls out Blake, shaking in his bonds. “Holy shit, get me out of here!”

The kindest of Link’s former friends stands behind metal bars, paralyzed in front of a large metal lever.

“But we’re going to need our brave participant to help decide,” the voice calmly continues, “which test subject will live… and which will die.”

Vio slams a hand over his mouth. Now visible in the shot is… is a fucking circular saw, on a track, which splits between Blake and Shadow. Both of them continue to panic, the camera fully fixed on their reactions.

“Shadow,” Vio says, his throat dry. Is this happening right now? Has it already happened?

Will it happen to him next?

“Please,” the voice says, with good humor. “Please please, everyone calm down. It's all very simple, Reed. All you have to do... is choose who you will save!”

There’s a loud noise as the saw begins to move, the grinding of metal almost drowning out the screams. Many thoughts run through Vio’s brain, but none of them matter—this is Reed’s choice, and it’s obvious who he will pick.

“I’m sorry, Shadow,” he says, pulling the lever in Blake’s direction. “I’m really sorry!”

Vio winces as the saw changes its track. Shadow’s screams echo through the room as sharp blades meet flesh, producing the exact sort of viscera one would expect from such an interaction.

As in, it cuts the man in half.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds,” the voice informs Vio, reminding him of his own predicament. “Nine…”

“No,” Vio whimpers, trying the door again. Still locked. “No, no, no…”

“Eight.”

There’s another door in this room, Vio remembers, reaching through the darkness behind the seats. It doesn’t lead upstairs, but it will get him the hell out of this room.

“Seven.”

If he could ever actually find the goddamn door.

“Six.”

“Fuck me,” Vio groans as he finally grips the handle. Is he seriously about to run from a real-life actual murderer through a creepy basement, all while barefoot and wearing a fluffy purple robe?

“Five.”

Yes, Vio decides, ripping the door open. Yes, I am.

The door behind him bursts open, revealing a sliver of light and a person’s silhouette. “Vio,” says the killer, his voice still modulated behind some kind of Halloween mask. He holds a large metal cylinder at his side, and clearly doesn’t intend to keep his ten-second promise.

Vio screams.

“Vi-o,” the maniac repeats in a singsong voice. His movement appears to be somewhat slowed by the weight of the heavy object.

“Shut up!” Vio growls, picking up a nearby vase and throwing it in his pursuer’s direction. He doesn’t stick around to see the aftermath, slamming the door behind him and entering the depths of Farore Lodge.

─────────────────

8:39 P.M.

They make their way down the basement stairs, leaving the others to argue in the foyer.

“Still use that home theater?” Vio asks, glancing over his shoulder at the room behind them. “You and your parents?”

Shadow smirks just a little, immediately calmer and much more like himself. This whole evening, he’s had an energy Vio can only describe as manic—forced enthusiasm that’s deeply off-putting, especially given the occasion.

“Mom and Dad don’t come up here anymore,” says Shadow.

“But you’ve been living up here for a while, like a gap year?”

“Sure. Like a gap year.”

Silence falls between them, again. Ever since Vio went away to college, things have been silent. And even before that, after Link’s disappearance… Shadow hadn’t exactly stayed in touch.

“You know, Vio,” says Shadow, just a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Vio matches it with a small smile. “Yes, Shadow?”

“I just wanted to say…”

“What?”

“It really means a lot to me that everyone came back this year. And y’know… that you came, Vi.”

Vio softens at the sentiment, despite his discomfort with the overall situation. “Shadow,” he says, “I’m here for you, really. Whatever you need, whenever. I understand that you might have needed your space this past year, but—”

“Watch your step,” Shadow warns, holding out an arm to stop him. So much for sentimentality.

“I think I can handle a set of stairs,” Vio scoffs. He pushes it away as they reach the basement.

Shadow opens the boiler cabinet and get straight to work, leaving Vio to look around. He and the Farores hadn’t spent a lot of time down here during their adolescent years, save for a few games of spooky hide-and-seek. Shadow and Link’s parents had always discouraged the boys from going beneath the lodge, and the boys mostly obeyed. It was all pretty much just storage down there—props from Mr. Farore’s horror films, Shadow had said, which were not dangerous but were very, very expensive. At some point Link had also mentioned a hotel or something down there too, connecting the lodge to the abandoned asylum on the other side of the mountain.

Seriously. Creepy basement.

“Sorry to drag you into the bowels,” Shadow tells Vio, surprisingly competent with the equipment. Although, Vio reminds himself, Shadow has always been good with mechanical stuff.

“Bowels,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Gross.”

“You’re cute.” The response is automatic, which Shadow seems to regret. He clears his throat and tries again. “I just wouldn’t want you coming down here by yourself, y’know?”

“It’s definitely creepy down here,” admits Vio.

“Yep,” Shadow teases. “Not a place to be on your own.”

─────────────────

11:16 P.M.

Vio almost trips on that damn step.

“Shit,” he says, narrowly avoiding the hazard as the killer rips the door open above him. Vio thinks fast, cloaked enough in darkness to hide but not with enough time to make it much further. He presses himself against a pillar by the water heater, where he’d just been with Shadow only hours ago.

─────────────────

8:44 P.M.

“What’s this doing here?” Vio asks, reaching behind a nearby pillar. He spins the wooden sword in his hand and then points it in Shadow’s direction. “I haven’t seen this thing in years.”

Shadow’s expression shifts at the sight of it, a strange mixture of fondness and sadness. “Guess it’s been a while since we play-fought. I dunno, things just end up down here sometimes, especially if they’re not being used. Not sure where Link’s went, though. Not that it really matters.”

Vio’s face falls. He lowers the sword. “Shadow—”

“I know,” Shadow says, holding up a hand. “Save it for the couch.”

─────────────────

11:19 P.M.

It’s still there.

“Why are you hiding?” asks the killer as he makes his way down to the boiler room. That metal cylinder, whatever it is, hits each stair as he goes.

Vio weighs the wooden sword in his hand. No blade, of course, but it has some heft. He holds it against his chest and presses himself even tighter against the pillar.

“Why prolong the inevitable, Violet?”

Vio flinches at that. No one calls him Violet anymore, unless it’s on a legal document. He wouldn’t call it a deadname exactly, but there’s only one person who’s ever said it in a way that actually felt right.

Zero now, though, because Vio just watched that person get cut in half.

“Gotcha,” says the killer, peeking around the side of the pillar. He yanks the struggling Vio backwards against his chest, trying to keep him still. “So sorry.”

Vio freezes as a plastic mask is pressed against his face. It’s easy to recognize the familiar sensation of nitrous oxide, but this seems to be significantly more potent than what he’d get at the dentist. He’s terrified to realize that he’s getting dizzy already.

Weakly craning his head, Vio is finally able to get a good look at Shadow’s murderer. A cheap Halloween mask obscures his features, but it’s not your average creepy clown or werewolf. It’s like… some kind of demented elf, with a pointed head and a goatee. What the hell was it called on the package, Guy You Definitely Don’t Want to Talk To at the Renn Faire?

Vio isn’t sticking around to find out.

Channeling every ounce of strength he has left, he shoves the wooden sword backwards into his attacker’s gut. The masked killer doubles over in pain, releasing him with a monstrous roar.

Vio’s head feels fuzzy as he runs across the boiler room-slash-cellar. He reaches for the door, but—of fucking course—

“Are you kidding me? NO HANDLE?!”

Removed and hidden, probably by Mrs. Farore, to keep the teens from exploring any further. Vio has to improvise.

The wine rack—he can work with that. Vio yanks it downwards, creating an obstacle for his pursuer. Among puddles of wine and broken glasses, a small metal object clatters to the floor.

“A-ha!” Vio sticks the handle back into place, passes the threshold, and locks the door behind him. The killer slams himself against it, but it’s not long before he gives up on that particular approach. His noises cease, leaving breathing heavily in an unfamiliar room.

His mind is clearing, which is good, because it’s pretty much all he has. He left his sword back near the boiler.

Vio turns to assess his current location, no longer familiar from his years of staying at the lodge. He sees a very dirty bed and a very broken dresser—must be one of the abandoned hotel rooms. One door to his left, and another straight ahead. The killer could, hypothetically, be making his way to either right now.

Vio moves forward. If this is a hotel, the door to the left likely leads to a bathroom. He’d be like a sitting duck in there.

His chosen path leads him to a long hallway, lined with several more doors and what looks like a defunct elevator. It’s one of those old-timey cage ones, with it cab stuck just a few feet above the bottom of the shaft.

He feels a hand over his mouth.

“Vio,” says the killer, noticeably out of breath. “Vi, holy shit, just let me—”

Vio bites.

The killer rears backwards, his mask shifting slightly and obstructing his vision. Vio sees his chance and literally runs with it.

He heads down the hall, but doesn’t go through a door. Instead, he slides through the crack beneath the elevator cab, pressing up against the wall at the bottom of the shaft.

Don’t move, Vio thinks to himself. Don’t. Fucking. Move.

From the hallway above, he hears loud pacing. The sound of doors slamming open and shut. Various curses and grunts of frustration.

And finally, thankfully, impossibly—

“FUCK!”

The footsteps reside. The hallway falls silent.

Vio stays still for the next twenty minutes.

─────────────────

11:44 P.M.

One Year Ago

Vio had been perfectly happy reading.

“We know your secret, bookworm,” Blake teases, holding the paperback out of his reach. The lodge’s warm fire illuminates Vio’s scowl.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demands, looking from Blake to Grant to Zelda to Reed—his ‘friends,’ or rather Link’s friends, invited to the lodge for a weekend of teenage shenanigans.

“We’re helping you with your crush,” Reed enthuses, a little tipsy but earnest nonetheless. “It’s going to be soooo sweet. Like a movie!”

Vio raises an eyebrow, only growing more suspicious. They’re all high school seniors, can’t they be done with the stupid hormonal preteen nonsense? “I don’t have a—”

“Listen,” interrupts Grant, leaning slightly forward towards Vio. “We know you like him. And he obviously likes you. Prom is soon, don’t you want a date?”

“You have no idea what I want.”

“Aw,” Zelda smirks, cocking her head slightly. “I think he’s blushing.”

Reed elbows her. “Don’t be mean!”

“You don’t even have to lift a finger,” Grant continues, just as much a leader here as Link says he is on the lacrosse field. “We’ve arranged it all for you. Left him a little note on your behalf, told him to meet you in the guest bedroom at midnight, alone.”

“A promposal in the moonlight,” Reed swoons. “It’s perfect.”

Vio shoots out of his seat. “This is extremely inappropriate. You people have no idea—”

“We people might not have years of friendship with the Farores,” Blake says, “but we still care about them. And they talk to us about stuff.”

The implication, Vio knows, is that he is ‘stuff.’ A Farore has a crush on him, and he’s been running his mouth about it to his friends. Which Farore, Vio could easily guess—the same one he’s been secretly crushing on since eighth grade.

“It’s none of your business,” Vio argues, balling his fists at his sides. “Even if I… had feelings for him, I’d want to tell him on my own terms. Or he should tell me.”

Reed’s face falls, but Blake seems unfazed. “Too late. He’ll be there now, waiting for you.”

The grandfather clocked chimes midnight, as if on cue.

Vio wants to bicker more with these near-strangers, to explain how serious his feelings really are compared to their trivial promposal nonsense, and to make them feel terrible for assuming they could try to intervene. But Blake is right about at least one thing—it’s too late now. Vio’s crush is waiting for him, and he needs to minimize the damage of this ‘prank’ as best he can.

“You guys suck,” he tells the four, turning on his heel.

“Have fun!” Zelda enthuses, giggling. Vio flips her off and heads for the guest bedroom.

─────────────────

11:44 P.M.

Now

Eventually, Vio finds the courage to leave the elevator shaft. But with one or more of his ‘friends’ dead and a killer on the loose, it seems foolish to head back the way he came.

He knows that these hallways eventually connect to the abandoned asylum on the other side of the mountain. He could escape through there, hide out for the night, but then what? It isn’t like a serial killer is just going to give up at dawn. And who even knows what’s inside that asylum, or in the woods? There could be, like, wolves or bears or something.

Hiding or fleeing still seem like better options than fighting, though. Vio isn’t a fighter, he’s a thinker—but still, he probably can’t exactly out-think a murderer. Especially not one so meticulous with his use of audio, video, and elaborate death traps.

But something does still tug at him. During the chase, the killer was presented with several opportunities to quickly kill Vio. He could have strangled him, snapped his neck, or hit his head with the heavy metal gas canister. But instead, for some reason, the masked man had been determined to knock Vio out.

If only he had shown Shadow the same courtesy.

“Oh, shit,” Vio groans, finally glancing down at the ancient hotel carpet. Bloody footprints, in a steady trail, lead back the way both Vio and the killer came. With the amount of blood Shadow produced, Vio wouldn’t be surprised if his murderer is still tracking it around.

Oh Jesus Christ, it’s Shadow’s blood.

Vio refuses to let himself picture the most recently deceased Farore son, who went silent for nearly a year after his brother’s disappearance. However Vio had felt about Shadow before Link’s presumed death, none of it mattered after. And now it matters even less, because Shadow is dead too.

He supposes he should be more concerned about the others. If the killer has given up on him for now, does that mean he’s now hunting Grant, Blake, Reed, and Zelda? Vio doesn’t like any of those assholes, but he doesn’t want them murdered, either.

But… he isn’t about to throw himself in harm’s way to save them. At least, not right now. There had only been one person present at the beginning of this nightmare that Vio would have fought to protect, and his blood is staining the carpet.

“NO! NO, NO, NO!”

Vio freezes at the sound of a voice—his own voice, panicked cries from the theater playing on repeat.

What the actual fuck?

He picks up a fallen wooden beam, complete with a nail sticking out the end. Vio isn’t sure if he’ll be able to stomach using it, but hopefully he won’t have to.

He has to know. This is just too weird.

He follows the path of footsteps back into the hotel room, where it continues back towards the cellar. But other footsteps diverge, leading through the side door Vio hadn’t taken the first time.

The sound of his voice is coming from there.

Taking a deep breath, Vio pushes it open. It is indeed a small conjoined bathroom, leading to another bedroom. Vio slowly approaches a chair in the center of the space, only lowering his weapon once close enough to examine its occupant.

The killer has tied up a mannequin wearing Vio’s clothes—the same clothes he’d been wearing before he dozed off in the bath, whose absence leave him so vulnerable now. Beside the chair, a small speaker blasts his cries for help.

Vio was supposed to be bait. That’s why the killer wanted to knock him out. And in Vio’s absence, he improvised using a prop from one of Mr. Farore’s films.

It was smart, Vio has to admit.

Too bad he’s smarter.

Back in his jeans, sweater, and boots, Vio feels much more prepared to indulge his rising suspicions. Something is definitely wrong here, and it’s not just the murder.

“Oh, right,” Vio mutters, giving the mannequin a final once-over. He retrieves his scrunchie from its wrist and ties up his hair. “Okay, yeah, I can do this.”

Pointy beam in hand again, Vio follows the footsteps into another hallway down some more stairs. It’s completely silent down here, which honestly might be scarier than any kind of ambient noise.

He seems to have found himself in some kind of utility area. While the other parts of the hotel were decrepit and abandoned, Vio can still imagine them looking nice in their prime. Here? Not so much. These interconnected rooms are clearly not meant to be seen by guests.

But the killer has been down here recently, if he isn’t already here now. Again, Vio considers turning back— but more and more, he begins to question the danger of what lies ahead.

The first room he walks past is a meat locker. A freshly-gutted pig hangs on a rack, its blood dripping onto the tile floor. Footsteps, of course, lead in and out of the doorway.

The second room is not at all like a bloody meat locker. It’s strangely modern, full of modern equipment and furnishings. The surfaces aren’t dusty at all. There’s even a mini-fridge.

“Oh, no,” Vio mutters, examining a blueprint pinned to a corkboard. It depicts what the creator crudely named a ‘death machine’—a long board with straps, hooked up to a track with a saw. A fake prop torso is attached, beneath a hole for someone’s head to poke through.

Under the blueprint, Vio finds a stack of newspapers. He startles at the headline, which is accompanied by an image of Link’s year-old missing person poster.

SUSPECTED KILLER ON FARORE MOUNTAIN - COULD HE BE RESPONSIBLE FOR LOCAL TEENAGER’S DISAPPEARANCE?

“They’re fake,” Vio says, glancing down at an invoice from a printer. “It’s all made up. How could he—”

He winces at a nearby buzz. A very familiar phone rests on the workbench, its black case decorated with a pop-socket shaped like a ghost.

Vio still remembers the passcode—although in this case he kind of wishes he didn’t.

The most recent text is from someone named ‘Dr. Arrghus,’ who appears to have been communicating with the phone’s owner for a few months. Vio scrolls back to the beginning of the current day, trying to get a gist of the conversation between them.

1:34 P.M. A: Hi Greyson, it’s Dr. Arrghus. I hope you don’t mind me texting you, but this is important. I got your email. I don’t think that your plan is going to help. I think you need to stop what you’re doing and come to see me. 4:13 P.M. A: Please, pick up your phone. I’m getting worried. G: LEAVE ME ALONE A: When is the last time you’ve spoken to a person in real life? G: I’m fine. People coming later today A: I am concerned about your safety and theirs. 6:48 P.M. A: Greyson? 12:00A.M. A: Greyson, please respond.

Vio drops the phone, his hands shaking.

Holy shit, Shadow has lost his mind.

Holy shit, Shadow is ALIVE.

“I have to tell the others,” Vio says, because of course he does, what other option is there?

A response comes in the form of the pop and fizz of an opened soda tab. Vio turns to face the would-be killer, now unmasked, offering him a can of chilled root beer.

“Are you sure you need to tell them?”

Specific warnings of possibly upsetting things, but some are pretty spoilery. I HIGHLY encourage you to skip over if you want this to be experienced as intended:

A character has their clothing taken while bathing and wears a bathrobe for the majority of the first chapter. There is a reason this happens, and the character is not sexually harassed.

Gore is mentioned but not described in any detail.

Someone attempts to knock out a person with gas by forcing a mask onto them, but they're quickly fought off.

A character sees a disemboweled pig. Again, not described in detail.

[nonbinary-beast]

I've been thinking about Knight Rider again these past few days, mainly a what-if regarding a crossover/AU between Knight Rider and the alien tech I've got going in the Computer Hell/Devil's Advocate AU/crossover.

Anyway, what if KITT got some of that alien tech. No apocalypse, no nuclear war- just Knight Rider as is, but during one mission, KITT and Michael encounter a strange UFO and it changes them for the rest of their lives.

How I figure it would go is this, while working on a case KITT picks up strange readings on his scanners; Michael thinks it might be related to their case (maybe it could be something along the lines of the toxic waste dump episode, bad guy of the week is doing stupid shit regarding dumping nuclear waste or doing some Incredibly Bad Thing that would give off all kinds of funky electronic readings). They investigate it, and find there's this odd craft sitting out in some remote area- maybe nearby where they are supposed to be working, so it makes sense to them to have a look. KITT attempts to connect with it, get an idea of what it is and what it is doing here, and to his surprise, it tries to connect with him in return. At first it seems to be completely wireless, over the air transmissions, until Michael notices filaments starting to appear in the air around KITT- coming from the craft.

In fact, they are directly connecting KITT to the craft. Michael tries to remove them as they become more numerous and thick, but unfortunately, he started too late; whether there are too many of them, or the thick ropes of what looks like some strange, flexible chrome are too tough to break- KITT is now hardwired to the craft. He cannot detach himself physically or electronically.

Meanwhile, KITT is too preoccupied with trying to communicate with the craft to notice what is happening. At first the alien craft cycles through languages, finding a common ground to establish a connection, then he's met with a torrent of information- star maps leading towards a portion of the galaxy that is as of the current era uncharted, system information and intentions of its visit, the breadth and depth of its expansive capabilities- everything. KITT in turn is assaulted with queries about his own systems. It's all he can manage to keep up with it's pace of transmission- the craft's hardware and software effortlessly outpacing his processors as they ping queries and answers off each other (admittedly, it is quite stimulating, a welcome challenge under any other circumstance), and his cooling fans spinning at their limit as he tries to process the barrage of information coming his way. All he knows is that as he pursues communicating with the craft, the world around him gets more and more faint, until he can barely hear Michael frantically trying to warn him about the lines that branched out to ensnare him. Then, the rushing rapid of data stills, trickling down to simple statements:

Subject deemed compatible for transfer.

Transmitting subject to vessel.

Suddenly he's gone. All of his files, his consciousness, is pulled from the vehicle. KITT goes dark, Michael's blood runs cold. His eyes dart from the trans-am to the strange craft sitting in the middle of the californian nowhere and he is struck with the urge to get onboard.

Something something Michael does a Michael thing, Michael manages to break into the space ship. Michael is met with an interior that looks like it was never meant to be operated by a crew, or it is so advanced he cannot tell whether he's looking at controls for the vessel or internal organs molded from chrome. He does however, notice the massive tube-like vat in the center, with a massive being covered in glossy black floating within; curled up, fetus-like, and it is rapidly developing right before his eyes.

The next thing KITT knows is that he is suddenly back online, his processes feel faster than they had been when he had been communicating with the vessel- before he had been lightning quick, now he felt like he was operating at the speed of light.

But, he's not out in the warm california evening, there is no dirt beneath his tires- he has no tires. He has... Limbs, hands, digits. His body is no longer a rigid frame of steel and MBS coated paneling- he can move more fluidly, but he does not feel vulnerable either. Around him it is warm, but wet- viscous as he shifts around, new limbs spasming in time with involuntary electronic pulses from his quickly developing systems.

Then, his visual sensors come back online, and he sees for himself where he had been spirited off to. Surrounded in a thick, reddish fluid, he can see the array of tubes sprouting from his middle (how strange, to have a middle, a belly) to reach down to the floor of the vessel he is suspended in. But as his eyes roam over the inside of its confines, he finds he is not alone- not in the vessel, but outside of it; beyond a large window out into what looked like... Well, KITT was not sure what it looked like. His surroundings beyond the vessel was at once metallic and organic- but he knew who was standing among the strangeness, the oddity of the entire dream-like circumstance.

Michael was staring at him through the window, his face was twisted in a mixture of confusion and concern. On impulse KITT reached out towards him, his hand resting on the viewport. His hand, that looked like some strange mix between insect chitin and plate armor, black and glossy.

His hand, that was large enough to grasp Michael's head like a grape. he tried to call out to him, but there was only a guttural, garbled cry through the viscous natal fluid. Michael stepped back.

KITT could sense, see data streaming between the craft and himself; they were still linked, as the rapid development and maturing of his new, strange form started to slow, and then stopped.

Transfer complete.

A harsh tone splits the air, and the tube-like vessel he had been floating in suddenly drained, then split open to eject him. He fell forward onto the floor of the ship, dripping with the remnants of the red fluid he had been floating in, splayed haphazardly where he fell, struggling to get to his feet. Struggling to speak.

Michael looks on in horror, uncertain as to what he is seeing. He thinks to run, but this thing grabs him. Its grip is like a vice, he struggles, beating on the armored plating, trying to wrestle himself free. All the while, the thing that fell out of the vat is making noise, loud, almost deafening.

"MIiiIIaaauuughh!"

"Miiiichhhaaaauuu!"

"Miichaauuull!"

He pauses for a moment, realization striking him like thunder. There is a familiarity to the sound of this entity. It's voice, as it grows clearer, it sounds like-

"KITT?"

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: So, I guess…we all have issues.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Summary: Mikey wasn't insane. He knew he wasn't. He really did have three brothers and a father, no matter what his paperwork said. Also, none of his family was human, and neither was he. That was the truth about him, no matter what anyone else thought. (Sticking by that truth got him thrown into an asylum. What a surprise.) **Winner of FIRST PLACE in the Universal TMNT Mature Fanfic Competition 2016 for MOST COMPELLING AU, and winner of SECOND PLACE for MOST SPOT ON PORTRAYAL OF MICHELANGELO.**

So, I guess…we all have issues Chapter 1: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is completed, and is part of an unfinished series. This fic has an ending that isn't a cliffhanger for anyone who was worried.

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Plot is is five out of five!! The plot, literally a sentence in, is massively intriguing!!! Its confusing, it's messy yet organized, it certainly caught my attention!!"

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Suspense/Mystery is five out of five!! The mystery in this chapter is excellent!! I wasn't even fully sure what was going on at first, then I began to piece it together as the chapter went on. The suspense is fairly high as well, though its more of a subtle underlying suspense rather than an edge of your seat stressful suspense, if that makes any sense."

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Angst/Hurt is two out of five!! For this chapter, the hurt lies in the situation that Mikey's in. Its a crappy situation, so you're gonna feel some sympathy."

Fluff/Comfort: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is one out of five! They're isn't really any comfort or fluff that happens. Mikey's situation sucks, and not until the end will you feel some hope for him, and what may come his way."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is two out of five!! This chapter really gives off a sense of confusion, and disappointment. Not disappointment in the fic, as the fic itself is wonderful, but disappointment in the world. The way people are portrayed is so bleak, that it actually make me feel a bit guilty. Superb writing skills, that's for sure!"

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Drama/Tension Level is two out of five!! The tension is moderate, and so is the drama, just enough to compliment the suspense levels."

Triggers: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Triggers are one out of five!! While nothing remotely triggering happens, enough stressful mental health related things happen, that it could be triggering."

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! Incredibly enjoyable fanfic to read!! With how thoughts are mixed in with sentences, written in italics, it makes for a very wonderful reading experience!!"

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) is five out of five! The way this fic is written, completely compliments an audio book!! It read well, and listens well to! Would recommend both versions!!"

Length: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Length is three out of five!! Chapter 1 of So, I guess…we all have issues is 34-35 minutes long to listen to!"

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

Next Chapter ->

So, I guess…we all have issues: Story Ratings and Chapter List

Personal thoughts on chapter below cut (Contains Spoilers)

The start of this fanfic is so wildly different, and so so compelling!! I was incredibly confused at first.

In his defense, Mikey had known the guy was a first class dick to any foster kid who wasn’t white, so he still felt like the suited man had deserved to have his wallet, phone, and cigarettes stolen and sold off.

Its' interesting to see subjects such as discrimination in the foster care system and racism brought up. Its not a topic brought into fanfics very often due to its controversial nature. The fact that it was brought up, invited a sense of realism into the story. Discrimination isn't as bad as it used to be, however its still a part of everyday life.

(Staring at the building, Mikey’s head had flooded with memories and images of his real life; from before… whatever had happened to him. Him and his brothers, sometimes with their human friends, leaping over roof tops and just hanging around. On that specific water tower no less.

I love how the water tower is mentioned. When the story began, going off on a tangent about Mikey being in a foster care system, I assumed he would be further away from key areas that were shown in 2k12.

Mikey stood up, ignoring the withering glare the matron, who was called Sharol with an S H, and walked into the dimly lit room.

I appreciate the distinction lol. Name spelling is actually very important to me, the way a name is spelled changes how I'll remember it in my mind. Though I've never seen Sharol spelt this way before lol.

Fuckit. They’d probably force him to take a sanitizing shower tomorrow anyways. He could survive teeth sweaters for a night.

I have never heard it called teeth sweaters before, and I LOVE it!! That gross fuzzy feeling your teeth get when you haven't brushed them for a day, calling it teeth sweaters now.

Sharol slipped a CD into the disc player, and the dull voice of a priest began to drift out of the speakers. Mikey groaned under his breath, because he’d heard Sharol’s prayer and gospel CD’s before; they were legendary for not only being painfully boring, but making zero sense as well. She’d gotten them from the local church years ago, and had played them every chance she got. Mikey kinda really hated those CD’s. He had nothing against the religion, but just. No thanks.

Once again, I enjoy how authentic this makes the fic feel. Bringing up religion and having it be weaponized. Its just interesting to me; especially how Mikey doesn't have anything against the religion, but resents it all the same due to how its being used against him, as if listening to the CD's would make him better, weaponizing the religion.

He popped his headphones into the right size, and snapped them over his ears. Turning on his Walkman, Mikey drowned out the gospel with a bit of gospel of his own. With The Wombats, more specifically their CD, A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation, blaring in his ears, Mikey felt marginally better.

Found the playlist on YouTube!! So this is a real band. They're an Indie band originating from Britain, and their album "A Guide to Loss, Loss & Desperation" was released in 2007. Gosh, I love it when authors put in real playlists, and musicians!!

Lethe, dark skinned, and definitely human, Mikey wouldn’t give the guy a second look on the street. Except… Navy blue eyes. A familiar voice. The solid feeling of knowing him. Leo, or the human version of him, stared at Mikey across the cafeteria. Dressed in the same white clothes as Mikey, which made his earth toned skin seem even darker, Leo sat in the middle of the normal morning chaos; looking drawn, somehow pale, and very much out of it.

To be honest, in the beginning of this fic, I couldn't tell if Mikey was actually insane, and everything was some messed up hallucination/dream till I saw Leo. Though even then I did have some doubts. I really wanted to believe that he was a reincarnation!!

[ch0colatec0ff33-art]

My brain has latched onto this AU with lockjaw.

[Transcript (image 2)

"oak mountain village" (center of the image)

"LAND OF THE GIANTS" (Bottom right corner )

"neighbor village" (top left corner)]

[Transcript (image 3)

The council -> runs the village

Science, defense, trading and scouting, farming, medicine, art

Takes care of their sector

Council members wear special bands.

They get a second band when an apprentice is found. ]

The first image of the tree is the main village!! mountain oak village. It houses most of the main characters so far with my friends >:] it's at least 5 trees all grown together over like a billion years so it's MASSIVE.

Villages function similar to states in a way? Each one can run in its own unique way. For example the next village over, runs with Lord's in control of everything like a monarchy.

The second image is a map I slapped together that's not totally accurate. The land of the Giants is where humans used to live. All the plants and growth there is really bad, and you can't eat anything there or it's like eating dirt.

The final image which probably requires the most explanation. The council runs the village, each member running their own sector. I only have two members so far, Sasha being Science and Henrik being farming.

Meanwhile the rest of the village folks can work in only one sector, or cross over into multiple.

An example would be a bartender would cross over into both medicines and art. Meanwhile someone like a blacksmith would cross over into all sectors bc they make equipment for everyone.

I hope this makes at least a little sense! I'm really enjoying this au :]

[kharonion]

ꜱᴀɴɢᴜɪɴᴀʀʏ

Note: This is an AU setting (vampire Vikt, specifically)

Some new club has been the talk of the record label staff, and Kerry’s curiosity has finally reached critical levels. He’s gotta check it out. It’s snug in the city center, taking the place of that shithole 7th Hell that played the most atrocious music and served drinks more watered down than the pier. 

Bright red neon lights flash with a new name—Sanguinary—and unlike its predecessor, there’s a line at the door. Like always, he goes dressed up enough to not earn unnecessary attention. Dark club music thunders in his ears the moment he starts descending the stairway. The energy of the place is a stark contrast compared to before; he’s tapping a foot and idly bobbing to the beat as he leans on the bar counter, waiting to be served.

“What’re you having?” a young guy pipes up.

“Surprise me—long as it’s strong.”

The bartender smirks. “Yes, sir. Know just the thing. One Crimson Moon, coming up. The boss’s special, even; he also likes his drinks to pack a punch.”

“Thanks, choom.”

Kerry sits inconspicuously on one of the black leather sofas in the corner, nursing his drink and people watching. When he sips, his expectations aren’t high… but holy fuck, it sure as shit kicks him in the ass. ‘Packing a punch’ is a bit of an understatement. He quickly downs the rest, about to make for ordering another. Peering over top his sunglasses, though, he notices the expanse of window overlooking the floor from above. Boss’s office, no doubt, and the man standing there must be the big dog himself.

Maybe it’s just the angle, but the guy looks massive, like he doesn’t even need the handful of bouncers dotting the place. His broad shoulders and bulking muscles are making his half undone button-down snug. From here, all he really sees of the man’s face is those piercing eyes, seeing everything as they’re scanning back and forth. Watching… hell, almost looks as if he’s hunting.

When that gaze locks on him, though, Kerry’s heart crashes to a stop. The bass reverberates through him so hard he shakes. 

Before he knows it, someone is at the table, beckoning him to follow. Something about “the boss wants to see you” or some shit. He leaves his empty glass, obeys without protest. Compelled after that scrutinizing he’d just been subject to… unable to say no even if he wanted to.

He might just pass out when that office door opens and closes behind him. Up here, the music is muted enough to at least hear his own thoughts. Not like he has many right now.

“Pardon my interrupting your night,” the man starts, voice husky and being dragged through gravel with each word, “but I felt I should express my gratitude.”

“Uh,” Kerry so intelligently responds. “For what?”

“Of all the nightclubs to spend your precious time at, Kerry Eurodyne decided upon mine.” He seems to sense Kerry’s bewilderment. “You’re not as covert as you think you are—to those paying attention.” 

That makes Kerry nervous beyond belief, but he plays it off casual. Simply heaves a deep breath, collects himself. “Thanks. I’ll work on it.”

The man’s head tilts, craning it in his direction as if listening intently. To… something.

“That’s not why you… piqued my interest, though. No, it’s because you’re here for a different reason than most of them.” He pauses, hums as if choosing his next words carefully. “You’re here to forget, to escape a demon that’s been chasing you for decades. Hoping that here, the shadows won’t be suffocating—or you simply will get so shitfaced, you’ll forget they exist.”

How in the fuck…

“Okay, just what in the fuck is your game?” Kerry finally growls. 

All the man does is sigh. And then, he turns around. 

Up close, he’s… well, frankly, he’s gorgeous. Sharp jawline, a small scattering of sun spots dotting his bronze face—though it looks pallid, sickly almost—freckles speckled across the right side. His hair is well-kept, an ombre with some grey shining through the dark locks that match his trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. Black shadows his alert eyes, paints his upper lip—which fangs poke out from. (Exotics… gotta be, he easily convinces himself.)

“You’re mistaken; I don’t play games.” His tone is… deathly serious. Kerry gulps. “Simply wish to give you a… safe haven, of sorts. Offer you a few drinks on the house. Talk. Give you something better to do while you’re here than wallow in the corner.”

Kerry chuckles, but takes the seat on the couch offered to him anyway. He does have to admit, this is much better than the alternatives—and really, the company is not only pleasant… but not bad to look at. The man hands him a glass of bourbon and pours himself a healthy amount of gin. 

“Just trying to win a rockerboy’s favor or what? No way you treat everyone like this.”

That earns a smirk, making those sharp teeth much more noticeable. “Only those who need it.”

“Chivalrous, for a nightclub owner.”

“Well. Not everyone accepts it, either.” He hums again, empties his liquor in one fell swig, raises an inquisitive brow. Fuck, that look he’s giving is almost… hungry, and the red of the club’s lights cause it to become searing; Kerry’s stomach lurches in his throat sudden enough to damn near make him throw up. 

“You, uh, you got a name I can properly call you?”

The man crosses his legs at the knee, his polished dress shoes gleaming in the low light, knee missing Kerry’s by centimeters. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Vikt,” he bluntly says, offering out a hand. “Pleasure is mine, Eurodyne.” Kerry takes it, and holy shit, it is ice-cold. Even so, though, the grip is strong, sure. “Don’t be a stranger. Consider my door open—and please, next time, forgo that ridiculous poor excuse for a disguise.”

Even though something feels off about the offer… Kerry vows to return sooner than later.

Maybe as soon as tomorrow.

[harmo-n-ia]

Bad end N au huh? Elaborate. . . . .

(( OOOOOHHH you wanna hear more about my boi Naal and my BAD END AU HMMMM? 👀 ))

(( Well this boy on the left is Naal next to my main version of N on the right [who often goes by Nat] ))

WELL OH BOY HERE COMES A READMORE BECAUSE THIS ONES A LONG ONE.

So the main idea for this AU is based on that one episode of Generations where N and Ghetsis are in the cavern with Kyurem and Reshiram and shits about to go south until Touya rides in on Zekrom and saves the day. However in this particular AU THINGS GO... UM, HORRIBLY, TERRIBLY WRONG, THE DAY IS NOT SAVED aaaaaaand pretty much the only ones baaaarely left alive are N and Reshiram? :')

[well there's one more bit that's a spoiler]

Basically having to bury pretty much [theres one exception lol] everyone he ever treasured in his life (his pokemon friends, his first and true friend who was there to find and rescue him...) Left him not only physically but deeply mentally scarred.

He's basically blind in his left eye and his body is covered in layers of massive scarring [from Ghetsis Pokemon's attacks, a controlled Kyurem, ... Maybe Ghetsis himself.] He has nerve damage. His hands are particularly messed up from basically having to bury his friends in that permafrost cavern. ... A certain someone was disposed of elsewhere.

His Reshiram is also particularly distrusting of anyone outside of HIS [Naal's Reshiram defines himself masculine, whereas Nat's defines themselves neutral] hero. Having to see his sibling perish and likewise bury him alongside his hero left him just as scarred and distant.

At their weakest of time, they wished death while nearly bleeding out in the cavern, which never came.

Eventually Naal and Reshiram made their way back to the castle, but were never the same.

In this world, legendaries are not single existing units [for the most part]. Studies of Reshiram, Zekrom, and Kyurem strange connected existence made it seem that one would be reborn into the world after the death of one and its hero. This history was taught to Naal in his childhood, through his gearing to become a King...

There was no second born Zekrom. There was no more an equal hero. ... Without yin there's is no yang. And so there no longer was balance. Mentally scarred by their trauma, and with nothing to reassure a sense of balance to their world, Naal and Reshiram abandoned the truth and decided fate would rest upon their own truth...

They became convinced that the only way balance could be restored was through allowing nature to take its own course upon the land...

Man's blight upon the land had to make way for any chance for the land to heal. The Cities of Unova had to burn.

And so he becomes the Fallen King. He makes himself a suit of armor forged by the flames of Reshiram, as well as a sword to make his point true...

[one day I’ll draw the armor, I promise.]

He isn't completely lost though. Not entirely. There may still be hope for him. His goal is NOT genocide, no. Not even in death at all. He works in league with several "team" organizations to announce and push out full evacuations. Pokemon that are abandoned or wounded and left behind are collected and treated for their wounds. He organizes for the pokemon to be reunited with its partner only if it so wishes, through his hidden associates. He caries trinkets and momentos of his lost fellows, and a shroud on his armor made of a tattered plasma flag.

His body suffers more damage from the burning and chemicals he’s exposed to, even with protective gear. His hands and skin are a wreck and he has permanent nerve damage.

...

He is currently hunted by the sister of a certain fallen Hero, prepared to take vengeance for her loss and Justice for the region...

The bitter irony is that neither Naal nor Reshiram know that they will only be reborn after each set AND their heroes die. :')

Ahh, but here, not to leave you all doom and gloom, here’s a sketch of one time I broke all of his fingers by mistake!!

[sminny-wew]

Fraternity [MegaLan AU]

"Everything looks to be in order...I think you're ready."

Megaman.EXE raised his head, and his orange fingers ceased their drumming against his thigh. "I am?"

Dr. Yuichiro Hikari nodded. "You've passed every test, every update seems to be going off without a hitch...there's nothing else I can think of that you need to complete."

His green eyes widened, practically glimmering. "Does that mean...?!"

Dr. Hikari smiled. "Your brother is starting fifth grade very soon. I'm aiming to have you sent out to him by then."

Megaman's face erupted into a massive grin. He began to vibrate in place, bouncing so hard that Dr. Hikari thought he might very well knock over the monitor and burst out of the screen.

"I'm gonna meet my brother!! I'm gonna meet Hub!! Wahoo!!!"

"Now, now," Dr. Hikari ushered gently, "I know you're excited, but remember what we talked about?"

Megaman's excitement ground to a halt, and he slouched in disappointment. "Aw, come on, Dad! Can't I at least tell Hub? I'll make him promise not to tell anyone, I swear!"

Dr. Hikari shook his head. "I'm sorry, son. We can't risk anyone finding out the truth. No one can know about this. Not even your brother."

He puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms. "But if I'm supposed to be his navi...wouldn't it help if Hub knew who I was?"

Dr. Hikari bit his lip. "It's...it's complicated. A lot could go wrong. He might be too afraid to use you if he knew. And if the wrong people knew your true identity, they could use that to hurt you. Me, your mother, Hub...we could all be in danger."

Megaman slumped in defeat. The last thing he wanted was to endanger his family, but...

"I'm really sorry, Lan. That's just the way it has to be."

But why?

His arms still crossed, Megaman's gloved fingers clutched at the adhering bodysuit, seeking a grounding presence for his nerves and an outlet for his energy. It made no sense to him; was Hub really better off not knowing the truth? How was Megaman supposed to give his all as a navi if he had to repress such an important factor of his identity? And how was the Navi Project supposed to fulfill its potential if he didn't give it his all?

Dr. Hikari must have picked up on his mood, based on what happened next.

"Hey," his father spoke gently. Megaman looked up to see Dr. Hikari with his hand raised in front of him, all other fingers curled inward except his pinky. It sat fully extended toward Megaman. "Pinky promise you'll do your best to keep this secret? For me?"

Megaman eyed his father's hand for a minute. Logistically speaking, it was impossible for them to make a true pinky promise; they were separated by a screen. But it was the sentiment, the effort to act like it wasn't there, that appealed to him.

Sighing on reflex, Lan managed a smile and extended his own pinky to the screen. He touched it to where Dr. Hikari's sat on the other side of the monitor. "Pinky promise."

Dr. Hikari smiled. "That's my boy."

-

"Hey, Lan?"

Megaman's head darted to Hub's direction curiously. Hub usually never called him by his real name, his human name, unless they were in the midst of a world-saving, life-or-death situation.

Was...was he in trouble?

"W-what's up?" Megaman asked, hints of nerves betraying the calm he tried to maintain. He never was all that good at maintaining the polite professionalism expected of navis. It was too stiff for his liking.

Hub must have noticed something was off with his response, as he suddenly raised his hands defensively. "Ah! Sorry, that sounded out-of-nowhere, didn't it? I-I'm not mad or anything, I just..." Hub trailed off, his index fingers fiddling nervously with each other.

Megaman sighed reflexively and smiled. Even now, after all they had been through together, his operator was still the same shy and quiet kid he'd met at the beginning of the fifth grade. How did Hub manage to stay so humble all the time?

"You just...?" Megaman offered.

Hub inhaled deeply, then exhaled, expelling his nerves. "Ever since we stopped World Three, and Dad told me the truth, I've been wondering...are you..." The rest of his fingers came together, anxiously curling on and around each other. Hub swallowed a lump in his throat, and somehow, Megaman got the sense that he was trying to change the subject from whatever he really wanted to say.

"...What would you do, if you were still alive?"

Megaman blinked. "Huh?"

"I-I mean..." Hub pulled his fingers apart. "If you were here, in the real world, with no screen separating us...what would you want to do?"

Megaman's processor buffered slightly as he carefully pondered the question. Although he did not like to dwell on the past and "what-ifs" for too long, he would be lying to himself if he said he had not considered what it would be like to be in the real world with his family...to be alive...

He didn't know what had prompted his operator to ask such a question, but he answered anyway.

"Well, first thing's first," Megaman said with a grin, holding his arms out as wide as the PET would allow. "I'd give you the world's biggest hug! Not everyday I get to do that, y'know?"

"But I mean, what about hobbies?" Hub continued somewhat nervously. "Is there anyplace you'd like to go, any foods you'd like to try?"

Megaman brought his thumb and finger to his chin in thought. "Hmm...I have always wanted to try Mom's curry...and Choina-style fried rice and nori...ooh, and hamburgers look really good too!!"

Hub's smile faltered. "You really honed in on the food question there..."

"Well, yeah," said Megaman. "Even though I've never had it..." Megaman's voice fell rather soft and quiet. "Sometimes...I think I remember what her curry smells like."

Hub's eyes lit up in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh!" said Megaman, already moving on to another subject. "Rollerblades!!"

Hub blinked. "Rollerblades...?"

"Yeah! I've seen other kids use them before, they look really fun! If I were human, I bet I could go really really fast with them!! I'd never take them off!!"

"W-well, you can't wear them everywhere..." Hub mumbled. "They're kind of a hazard indoors."

Megaman grinned at Hub, practically elbowing him with nothing but his green eyes. "But I could keep up with you on your skateboard!"

Hub smiled back and nodded. "That you could."

"Hmm...what else..."

"Well," said Hub, "Are there any school clubs you'd want to join?"

"...Ooh, I've got one!"

"What's that?"

Megaman's eyes beamed as big as his smile. "The soccer team!"

"Why soccer?" asked Hub, his brow raised with intrigue.

Megaman shrugged. "I dunno, it just looks like fun!"

Hub hummed. "Curry, rollerblades, and soccer..."

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?" Hub asked.

"Why'd you hum like that?" asked Megaman, pressing himself against the PET screen impatiently.

Now Hub shrugged, a small yet playful smile on his face. "I guess it just doesn't surprise me that you'd pick those sorts of things. We may be twins, but we're very different..."

A silence fell between the two. Megaman briefly wondered if he had somehow been muted, before Hub spoke up again. He did not look at the PET screen.

"Lan?"

"Yeah?"

Hub nervously clutched the edge of his sleeve. "Are you...mad at me?"

"For what?"

"For not...protecting you, when we were younger." He began pulling at and fiddling with the sleeve corner.

Megaman tilted his head. "...From what?"

Hub's eyes darted to the screen, confusion and a trace of frustration apparent in him. "What do you mean, 'from what'? From what happened to you!"

Megaman's eyes squinted in confusion, still not entirely understanding what his operator meant.

"You know...your HBD..."

Oh.

Megaman shuffled slightly.

"I was born first, so that makes me the older twin..." Hub continued. "A-and, big brothers are supposed to look out for their younger siblings and protect them, but...I wasn't able to do anything for you...and now, you're..."

"Hub, buddy, we were two," Megaman reassured. "There was nothing you could've done for me."

Hub looked down at his hands, turning his palms up to look at them, as though they suddenly seemed foreign to him. "Then why do I feel so guilty?"

"I dunno," Megaman said with a shrug. "Most people don't wanna see their family get hurt. You're no different."

"But I didn't even know we were family until Magicman..." Hub trailed off, his hands flying to his face in frustration. Even though Megaman had survived the attack, Hub still did not feel comfortable talking about the incident.

His brother was almost deleted.

His younger brother almost died, again.

"Hub, it's okay, really. You didn't know."

"But I'd always suspected something like it," Hub said quietly behind his hands, thinking back to the family photos he had found buried in a closet once upon a time. Thinking back to how naively he had presented them to his parents. Thinking back to his mother's sudden teary silence, and his father's sudden somber tone as he asked where Hub found them. "Even if Mom and Dad weren't ready to talk about it..."

"Geez, Hub, where's all this coming from?"

Hub said nothing.

Megaman huffed with stubborn patience. Hub was beginning to fall into another one of his loops. That was not going to help either of them right now.

"Hub, look at me. Forget all that and just look at me for a minute, okay?"

Hub's hands fell to his mouth, his big brown eyes opened and focused entirely on Megaman.

Megaman crossed his arms and put on a big smile. "Listen: no matter what you or anyone else thinks, I know you're a good operator...and you're a good brother...and a good person. Y'know how I know all that, Hub?"

Hub shuddered slightly. "How?"

"Because you care so much about everyone. Me, Mom and Dad, Maylu, Dex, Yai, even Chaud! Even other navis!!"

Hub brought a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it sheepishly. "W-well, I mean..."

"Ah, ah!" said Megaman, holding his index finger out in front of himself and waving it back and forth as he teasingly scolded Hub. "I've seen you go out of your way to talk to Roll and Protoman, you can't deny it!"

Hub tried to hold it back, but it was no use. He began to laugh.

Megaman beamed. "There's the Hub I know!"

"Look at you," Hub said between his giggles, "Being the one to cheer me up."

"I'm your navi. It's my job."

"But it's not just your job, and you're not just my navi, and you're not just Megaman. You're also Lan, my brother."

"You're taking this whole 'brother' reveal too literally!!" Megaman huffed. "Even if you are supposed to be the responsible older one, it doesn't change what happened! I'm still your amazing navi, and you're still my amazing operator, and you just gotta deal with it!!"

"But," said Hub, his tone once again content, "You said yourself you want to rollerblade and try Mom's curry, so you can't deny that you haven't thought about it, either!"

Megaman folded his arms behind his back and sighed cheerily. "Man, you might not like hearing this, but I'm glad Magicman almost deleted me."

Hub cocked a brow skeptically. "Why's that?"

"If he hadn't, Dad might not've given you Lan.BAT, and you wouldn't know the truth." Megaman began bouncing on the heels of his orange boots. "I couldn't stand not telling you!! It was so hard, having to keep that big a secret from you!!"

"And you weren't exactly subtle about hiding it, either."

Megaman glared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Hub playfully stuck his tongue out at the PET screen. "I'm not telling~"

And he stepped out of the room.

"Wha--h-hey!" Megaman yelped from the PET on the bed. Hub broke into another fit of laughter as he reentered the bedroom, hesitating in his laughter as he reached for his PET. It may as well have been leaping around on the bed with how flustered Megaman sounded.

"Very funny, Hub!! I'd like to see you try being my navi sometime, you wouldn't last one day!!!"

If Hub heard him, he made no indication as he continued to laugh to the point of tears. Lan sputtered and fumed in embarrassment.

Such were the conversations of the Hikari twins.

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

Bug's RWBY Worldbuilding Series 1

Hey, look, something nobody asked me to do! I'm about to start a multi-part post on my AU-but-theoretically-at-least-decently-applicable-to-canon idea of Aura/Semblances/Dust/Magic, in that order, in a system that should help unify and streamline them while still making there be an actual difference in what Magic is. I will also repeat myself sometimes in later posts, just so that each post can still be understood on its own without going to every link I'll add as I update this series The tag will be #Bug's RWBY Worldbuilding Series Without Further Ado, Part 1: Aura <- You are here. Part 1-B: Active Aura

Aura is a form of energy produced by all living things, and can diffuse into the atmosphere and surroundings as a wave/particle (it is both, much like photons). Passive Aura is the main thing produced, being akin to "infrared". The exact intensity and frequency of its production also directly coincides with an organism's physical and emotional state. So, when Grimm "sense" negative emotions, this is actually *what* they sense. The specific pattern of Aura produced by a person in distress. Active Aura would be "ultraviolet" in comparison, giving it new properties and abilities thanks to having much more energy to work with. (more on that later!) For now, we're focusing on the broader role and importance of Aura in Remnant, rather than the more specific combat-related things. That comes in my next installment. The Aura passively produced when you experience negative emotion is also what Grimm "eat", meaning that Grimm do not actually have any need to kill humans, however, the act of terrorizing and then killing humans allows them to become stronger at an accelerated rate. The traumatic death of a person produces massive blooms of the "negative" Aura they feed upon. Therefore, it unfortunately serves as their kind's most lucrative feeding strategy, even *with* the energy and risk that must first be invested into hunting and killing prey. Aura particles linger after they are produced, and reach a point where they "cool" (lose energy) to a sort of "ambient" energy level rather than losing all of it, leading to a "background" Aura field that surrounds and permeates the entirety of Remnant. However, the Aura does not simply diffuse itself calmly and evenly throughout Remnant, and then lie still and passive. Aura forms myriad invisible currents, vortices, jetstreams, and eddies throughout the world, much like air or water, although Aura also can and does phase through solid obstacles as it flows. In ways that are not yet well understood, this also has a profound impact on Remnant's ecosystem. Areas where Aura currents converge, or where dense currents flow, can often seem richer than others. This leads to phenomena such as how certain settlements can exist with little physical protection: For instance, by developing the means to discern areas that are within fast-flowing "rivers" of Aura, one can create settlements and trade routes in which negative emotion is typically "washed downstream" faster than it attracts Grimm. Even though Grimm can and do follow the Aura "upriver", especially if negativity gets truly out of hand, they will typically be distracted by the "runoff". Strong vortices and gyres of Aura can also accumulate a dense enough concentration of energy to allow for a very steady "low-level" activation of Dust deposits without any living creature's direct input, allowing for locations like Lake Matsu's floating islands to exist. Dust itself also attracts low-energy Aura, while higher-energy Aura becomes increasingly resistant to its pull. As such, it is not only affected by Aura currents, but the global actions of Dust across the world, all "pulling" unevenly on the background Aura field, contributes heavily to the formation and distribution of currents.

Such a phenomenon can be used as a simple and low-tech way to locate "rivers" as well: If a Dust crystal, especially one held at a considerable distance from anyone's person (such as up upon a flag or banner, for instance), begins to take on a slight glow by itself, and/or starts to weakly exhibit its inherent elemental property on its own, it's a clear sign that you are within a strong Aura current. More advanced applications allow for people to place specially-prepared Dust crystals in machinery and electronics and have the tiny, subtle fluctuations in the Dust's output be read carefully enough to be useful for myriad purposes, measuring and visualizing what might otherwise be almost entirely opaque to human senses. However, human activity and Dust industry can and does alter Aura currents, and sometimes disrupt even those currents which were thought to be too large and stable to *be* disruptable. This can be harmful, as was the case for the Great Vacuan Gyre, whose dissolution greatly worsened and accelerated the region's environmental degradation through an incredibly complex string of unforeseen chain reactions. Little could be done, as little was understood about just how important the invisible Aura currents can truly be to the environment. However, it can also be harnessed in intentional ways. Aura "dams" and Aura "diverters" can be built to increase security, although they do not outwardly look like the kinds of "dams" you may be used to at all, as Aura is not "dammed" by creating physical barriers. By extension, background Aura can also be used to generate power. This is almost always done by using Dust as the middleman, however, which also means the Dust will eventually be expended. Dust industries across Remnant are, of course, keenly against efforts to develop a way to harness atmospheric Aura without a Dust-based intermediate. Also, note that I haven't even gotten into explaining *active* Aura yet. That'll be next.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

24 tender for giant eldritch angel Aziraphale and friendly park employee Crowley?

The national park au! My beloved! (which I need to update but I forgot where I was going with the next chapter, whoops)

On with the fic!

--

Crowley found Aziraphale with ease, deep in the forest near the angel's little cabin. It wasn't hard when you've started to become used to the feeling of what was basically holy radiation emitting from the giant being.

That, and Aziraphale left a trail of eyes around on the trees, all of which were clearly happy to see Crowley. Pun not intended.

The last of the eyes vanished when he came into the clearing, seeing his massive boyfriend in his true form, laying on the grass among fallen leaves and wildflowers. All hazel eyes and the two large, blue 'eyes' on his face seemed to be looking right at him, his stomach mouth was showing a wide smile.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale greeted and sat up, careful not to let himself rise too far above the tree lines. "You found me!"

"You made it rather easy." Crowley chuckled, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket as he approached. "Shift's over for the day, figured we could hang out a bit. Though I seem to have interrupted whatever you were doing here."

"Oh, you haven't interrupted much, darling." Aziraphale replied. "I was just enjoying the beautiful afternoon, letting the forest creatures come to me and such."

"Come to you?"

"When I'm in a good mood, they do not feel fear and sense protection near me, and I offer that to them. Also, I'm warm and they seem to like that, even on summer days like this."

Crowley noticed that near Aziraphale's hand was a rabbit, nuzzled up against a finger.

"You can come closer." Aziraphale smiled. "They will not fear you, they will know you are trusted."

"They?"

"The animals, come, sit! Enjoy the comfort with them!" Carefully, Crowley was pushed forward by another large hand, knowing that Aziraphale would never hurt him. He leaned back and was pulled closer to the other hand, where the rabbit was looking up at him now.

Reaching out a hand, the little creature sniffed his fingers before burrowing its face against Aziraphale again. Crowley snorted, making a comment of someone playing favorites, before he spotted something moving through the grass.

"Well, I know you'll come to me." He said, seeing the garter snake as it approached them. Aziraphale let Crowley get out of his palm to touch the snake, before it wrapped itself around his hand and wrist, seeming content instantly.

Crowley smiled as he sat himself down on Aziraphale's hand again, being cradled in the warm palm. The snake seemed fine where it was and Crowley tenderly touched its fine, shiny scales. "Look at you, you beauty. You must've just shed, you're lookin' fine!"

"Aww~!" Aziraphale said, his voice booming in the clearing.

"What's aww? See a baby deer or somethin'?"

Aziraphale shook his head as he pulled Crowley closer, his stomach mouth an even bigger smile. "It's so cute seeing you act so sweet and tender to God's creatures, even down to those little rascal snakes you love so much!"

"Hey now, they're little rascals and good people in their own rights." Crowley snorted. "And I'm not sweet or tender, I just know how to compliment someone properly."

"Still, you're so adorable! Sweet and tender, just like a cream puff!"

"Oi! Enough of that, angel! You're gonna smother me with your weird, angel affection!" Crowley made a face, swatting at a finger. "Maybe it's the angel radiation you give off, it's makin' me act... AH! Good!" He gasped, pretending to choke, before falling, sticking out his tongue.

Aziraphale scoffed. "Really, dear, it's not 'angel radiation', it's my aura."

"You sound like Anathema when you say that! Angel radiation sounds cooler!"

"Fine, you can call it that, if I can still say you're a tender soul."

"Neeeeehhhh- fine! Only if you don't tell anyone else, I have a reputation to keep up."

The smile only grew, showing more perfect teeth than was necessary for a mouth. "I won't tell anyone.

--

Before Crowley arrived, Aziraphale had been sleeping and had been covered in a whole lot of animals who were using him as the world's bigger heating pad.