#mistakes in life and war while grasping for anyone that might understand them since they dont understand themselves!

[meatgoat]

double zeta might not have been a major waste of time if it tried harder to focus on haman's whole deal. or if iino kept the wig on

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: You are a Buddhist, Yet You Possess Non-Buddhist Views

Are you a Buddhist? Certainly. Ask any Buddhist, and they will unhesitatingly answer you this way. But the real question is, are you truly a Buddhist?

It's an intriguing question. Every Buddhist would never consider themselves as non-Buddhist. They would tell you: I have received a certain initiation, we practice our methods every day, we took refuge with a certain abbot or Rinpoche. I have a stack of refuge certificates. I'm vegetarian. We conduct fire offerings. I recite Amitabha Buddha's name. Aren't all these enough to prove I'm a Buddhist?

According to Buddha's teachings, only when we possess the correct Buddhist views can we be genuine Buddhists. Otherwise, we are merely close to being Buddhists. "Close" means "quite near but not quite there".

You've been a Buddhist for quite some time (five years? Or maybe ten?), yet you still hold non-Buddhist views. This isn't surprising, as you've been a non-Buddhist for a much longer time (here, "non-Buddhist" doesn't refer to the Indian ascetics who cover themselves in ash and roast over fires, but to anyone with non-Buddhist views). Since beginningless time, we might have spent most of our time as non-Buddhists. Even in this life, you might have been a non-Buddhist for the first thirty years. When you think of the future, are you planning just for the next few decades or for lifetimes to come? Do you love your family? Of course. How about people outside your family? Do you love them? Not really. So, do you truly believe that every single one of them has been your son or husband in the cycle of rebirth?

Do you genuinely believe everything is impermanent? Or is it just an occasional thought? Do you truly think all phenomena lack inherent existence? When you look at a TV stand, can you truly grasp that it doesn't possess any of the qualities you perceive? Do you sense the manifestation and emptiness rather than manifestation and inherent nature? In this era, every Tibetan Buddhist would say they understand the union of appearance and emptiness. Yet, I believe most of us, most of the time, see the perfect blend of appearance and inherent nature, rather than appearance and emptiness. Do you genuinely believe that all conditioned things are suffering? Then why do you still frequently seek lasting happiness in samsara? Although every bottle of 'Pukui Oil Control Facial Cleanser' lists its ingredients: coconut-based betaine, sodium chloride, yeast extract from glycerin, glycerin, etc., and openly reveals itself as a mere compound phenomenon, we still perceive it as a bottle of facial cleanser — an entity with inherent existence. Our habits are that powerful. We might not view sandcastles on the beach as real castles, but when it's a stone-built one that can house people, we think it's a real castle. Is there any difference between the two? When stones are piled together, is there something called a "castle" born? Never. Those stones stacked together haven't combined into a new entity. When that castle is destroyed, no "castle" disappears because a "castle" never truly existed to begin with.

If you claim to be a Buddhist, but your logic and mindset behind any decision or consideration are no different than those who do not believe in reincarnation and karma, then you might not truly believe what you think you believe. At least, it indicates you don't possess a genuine Buddhist perspective.

Having non-Buddhist views while calling oneself a Buddhist isn't a grave mistake. In fact, our spiritual practice is essentially a tug-of-war between Buddhist views and non-Buddhist views. A significant part of the spiritual journey is ensuring we don't fall into perspectives like "everything possesses self-nature" and other views that oppose the Four Dharma Seals. In reality, it's nearly impossible not to slip into these views. What's crucial is recognizing when we do, and then pulling ourselves out. After all, we haven't been Buddhists for a particularly long time. Our previous habits—of labeling everything—are immensely strong. We are too accustomed to the views that everything is permanent and has self-nature. It's unrealistic to take refuge one day and expect to become a sage the next. The best thing you can do is to reduce such non-Buddhist perspectives over time.

It's fair to say that for most Buddhists (myself included), about 99% of their views are non-Buddhist. Such views are deeply ingrained because we use them daily. Isn't our everyday perspective centered on the idea of "everything possesses self-nature"? When you see ice cream, do you immediately think it lacks inherent ice cream nature? Of course, your first instinct is to recognize it as ice cream. If you're lucky, maybe a few minutes later, you might contemplate its composite nature. Or you might not think about it at all.

As a Buddhist, there's no need to feel ashamed for having non-Buddhist views. In fact, it's good news. Every beginner Buddhist starts this way. If you don't recognize this, you can't make changes. Now, having realized that your views are not truly centered on "all dharmas lack self-nature", it's evident that we constantly live with the view of "all dharmas possess self-nature". Look around, you see your table, slippers, dirty socks, your cat, and your cup. When you think of them as "my table", "my slippers", "my cat", your perspective is not "all dharmas lack self-nature".

You might argue, "I accept the view of 'all dharmas lack self-nature' and believe it to be correct. Doesn't that prove I possess this perspective?" In truth, you've merely heard of this view from a teacher. The day you no longer need anyone to tell you "all dharmas lack self-nature", and through your own practice, you genuinely feel that nothing is as we define or label it, only then can you claim to truly possess such a perspective. Until then, you've only heard of it. It isn't truly yours.

This article was first published on Lingshan Hermit's blog on April 10, 2016.

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：你是佛教徒，却拥有外道的见地

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 7 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.  

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode five. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: i got wordy with this one, lol. But there IS fluff and revelations in there somewhere

(warnings: mentions of death, blood, injuries, weapons) (word count: 5K)

seven: timing

You’ve seen death before. It’s inevitable, when you’ve lived an entire century.

You’ve died before, when half of the universe did too, crumbling into dust and fading into thin air. You’ve seen it during the war, during missions, you’ve done it. Yet, you might never get used to it, not like this.

A shield is objectively a protector in nature. Captain America’s shield, once the symbol of salvation, had been tarnished with blood.

Bucky and Sam looked at you when you turned back to them, after watching John Walker ran off from the square. Their silent conversation from seconds before communicated to you through a look.

Walker couldn’t carry the shield. Not anymore.

“We have to take it back.” Sam said, and you and Bucky nodded at the same time.

“He has to have gotten his hands on the serum somehow. He’s too strong.” You made your way through the crowd hastily, having to shove people out of the way, everyone still in slow motion due to shock.

“That means it won’t be easy.” Bucky added as the streets had gotten empty enough for you to start running freely.

“It never is, is it?”

Sam led the way on air while you and Bucky ran, following his coordinates. A fine rain fell over Riga, and it did good of seeping through your hair and clothes, though you didn’t register the cold in the moment. The warehouse you ended up in was empty except for industrial lifts, the lot abandoned and overgrown. A good enough hiding place.

John Walker marched over to you somewhat casually, and your eyes met Bucky’s as Sam stroke up conversation.

“What? You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to!” You held yourself from flinching when he raised his voice. “He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky said calmly. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

Your fingers brushed Bucky’s metal ones lightly, them twitching in response.

“I’m not like you.”

That much was right. Sam stepped forward to try and reason with him, you and Bucky staying behind.

“Bucky—” You whispered, urging him to look at you.

He offered you a small strained smile. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.” This time you linked your hands fully, icy skin on Vibranium. You squeezed for a second and let go, forgetting that it probably wasn’t bringing him the comfort you intended. You hoped the message got across, at least.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Sam’s voice drew your attention back to Walker and the imminent conflict. “John… You gotta give me the shield, man.”

Walker looked up at you three, a smirk gaining on his face. “Oh, so that’s what this is. You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake.”

“Don’t make another.” You said, your brows furrowing.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.”

When Bucky said that he, you and Sam advanced into Walker, surrounding him as he swung the shield in every direction.

He lunged at Sam, sending him to ground. You were smaller, but that got you to land punches at his side and ribs, which he blocked a few of. You wondered how much more he could take, one against three.

A kick to your abdomen launched you back. He was terrifyingly strong, and you think that this serum had to be the most advanced yet. On top of that, he was completely deranged.

You helped Sam up while Bucky kept Walker occupied, then using the fact that Walker had him pinned against a lift you ran behind him and landed a knee to his spine.

“Why are you making me do this!” Walker flung Bucky first, and your eyes widened in horror when he crashed violently into a metal pillar. You were second, the shield hitting your head and flinging you towards the same direction as Bucky, your body sliding on the concrete floor.

Spots swam before your eyes. You blinked once, twice, trying to get them to focus again. You felt warmth on the side of your head. Blood.

Bucky was still limp on the ground, his metal arm sparking and twitching wildly. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes started to fill with water and fear.

“Bucky? Buck—oh my god, Bucky, come on,” Still dazed, you held his face in your hands, watching it twitch along with his arm.

You looked up to Sam altercating with Walker and Bucky stirred in your grasp.

“Y/N.”

A relieved sigh escaped your lips, along with a couple of hot tears that Bucky caught with his flesh hand. “Y/N, the shield—”

Looking up again, you saw what Bucky meant. The shield, seemingly forgotten as Sam and John Walker scuffled on the ground. You ran to it, swaying slightly, and stomped on the edge so it would go up into your arm.

As Walker ripped Sam’s wings out you flung the shield at his back, it flying back to your arm like a boomerang. You had his attention. He ran at you, nearly howling, and you stopped his lunges using the shield.

“You. You’re strong. You’re a super soldier too.”

“I have been… since 1945.” You panted, trying to catch your breath. Walker frowned at you.

You went at him again, not giving him time to process the new information. He grabbed the shield, trying to wrestle it out of your arm. Bucky tackled him before you could crumble, but as they stumbled down and away from you so did the shield, John Walker’s hands still gripping is viciously.

Somehow, he managed to have it strapped to his arm again, hitting Bucky with it as they threw punches.

You and Sam reached them at the same time, one to each side of Walker, taking him off of Bucky. Sam moved to remove the shield from Walker as you and Bucky pinned him.

There was a crack.

Sam took the shield off, rolling away with it, and you let go of Walker when you felt he stopped resisting due to the pain. Bucky spat red, and you cleaned the blood off your face with your sleeve.

Your head was throbbing, and you felt your balance wavering once again.

“It’s mine.”

“It’s over John.”

You tried jogging to Sam’s side, but all you did was limp the quickest you could. Suddenly, your knee was in fiery pain again. You would probably need a new replacement soon.

“It’s mine!” Walker moved on Bucky who was closest. You took a step toward them, but Sam put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“He’s got it.”

You turned to him, wondering if you really looked that much in bad shape.

Bucky really did get him, tackling Walker and hurling his body against Sam and the shield. The three of them fell to the ground.

It was over. You finally let your knees buckle, wincing once they hit the floor.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, spots swimming in your vision, and once you opened them again the men were still heaving on the ground. Bucky was the first to get up, picking up the shield and dumping it next to Sam.

He walked over to you, offering his hand. You took it gladly and let him hoist you up. His deeply concerned expression was the same as yours.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Buck.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go clean up, sugar.”

--

A shower and your clean civilian clothes got you feeling good as new.

You ended up going back to Zemo’s place, Bucky making you answer too many pointless questions as the both of you tended to your injuries, even though you had assured him you did not have a concussion.

“How’s your knee?”

“Could be better. It’ll be fine, though. I just hope we don’t have to fight Walker or anyone again in the next few days.” You shrugged, pressing an antiseptic tissue to Bucky’s nose. He hissed. “Don’t be a baby.”

You chuckled when he glared at you, slumping his shoulders.

His jaw tensed. “We wouldn’t have fought if Sam—”

“Bucky, don’t start this again—”

“— hadn’t given up the shield!”

“James, none of what happened was his fault. Did you even try to understand his side of things?”

You threw the tissue in the bin and checked your phone. Sam had replied, confirming that he was okay, and that he had managed to find a ride home with a friend. You and Bucky weren’t going just yet, since you still had to find Zemo and give him to the Dora Milaje.

You sighed. “The shield is just an oversized Vibranium frisbee. It’s nothing without the right person behind it.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why are you defending him?”

“Because you aren’t. You should be the first to take Sam’s side.”

“He gave it away like it was nothing. This Vibranium frisbee it’s all we have left of Steve, Y/N!”

“Not it’s not. We have an entire life worth of Steve, Bucky. The shield is just… an object.”

“If Sam was Captain America, Walker wouldn’t even have been nominated.” He grumbled.

You sat beside Bucky and took his metal hand in yours, tracing the golden seams on his palm. He sighed, and you knew he was close to resigning.

“The government didn’t even consider Sam before nominating Walker. Hell, they didn’t even talk to him.” You pursed your lips, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you.

“How can he be Captain America if America’s gonna treat him like that? And it wasn’t a one-time thing, either. So, I get it. I don’t like how things turned out. But I get it.”

Bucky looked at the floor. “Yeah. I want to understand. I’m—I’m trying.”

You beamed at him. It had taken you a while to understand too, and you still struggled sometimes. But you were proud of Bucky, for at least being open to listen.

--

You met Sam the next morning at the displacement camp. Or, at least, where it had been. Sam explained that the GRC was conducting raids in search for Karli, arresting people and closing their lodgings, but without much success.

“They searched this camp and just like the last camp, nothing.”

“Well, she’ll be laying extra low after…everything.” You frowned at Sam’s old gear, wings now a broken mess of carbon fiber and wires.

“She’s gone. We’ll never find her.” Sam’s voice was grave and littered with anxiety.

“We will. She’ll move again. She won’t just stop.”

You looked at Sam and he shook his head. From the other side of the room, Bucky sighed.

“Hey, you uh, you got your sleeve back.” A new voice piped in, and you recognized its owner as the soldier from the hangar the other day. “Oh, it’s you���hi, I’m Torres. Joaquin Torres.”

The boy had a nice, gentle smile. No wonder he and Sam were friends.

“Y/N.” You smiled back at him and shook the hand he extended to you.

Bucky headed to the door without a word.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?”

You nodded at Sam and gave him a quick hug. “He can’t be running around causing trouble, can he now? Take care, Sam.”

“You too.”

“Alright, good to know you survived.” Torres said at Bucky’s back as he disappeared through the door.

Sam smiled down at you and you let yourself be content with that for now. You still had Zemo to worry about, so you rushed to catch up with Bucky.

“So, I’m thinking we should go to—”

“I have intel he might be in Sokovia.” Bucky shot you a confused look that made you shrug. “You forget I was a spy for more than 40 years, Buck.”

You smirked a little. Retired, sure. But that kind of thing was like riding a bike, and you knew better than to drop all of your hard-earned contacts.

“Did you contact Ayo too?”

You shook your head, and started leading Bucky to the hangar where your plane was waiting. “No, I figured you might wanna do that.”

It was another good fifteen minutes of walking before you arrived, and there it was. Your baby. An Eclipse 500, a pretty little thing with a red stripe and caramel leather seats.

Bucky whistled. “When you said you flew in…”

“I flew in.”

You smiled brightly at Bucky once you were on air, and it was safe to hit the autopilot. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Bucky chuckled, looking at you. “Yeah.” His smile widened as he turned to watch the nose of the jet cutting the clouds.

Your chest ached with something unwelcome. Oh no. Not this, and not again. You wished for the feeling to go away, so you could just love him as your best friend, as a brother – but your heart wasn’t keen on listening.

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re not that tiny, spunky girl who picked too many fights.”

“Well, that little girl is still in here somewhere. Except now I could say I have a bigger chance of winning those fights.”

Bucky smiled. “You always had a mean right hook.”

He was looking at you in some sort of way you couldn’t exactly determine and you decided not to think too much about it. You couldn’t.

“And now, what? You work for the UN, you have an airplane—you still live in New York, right?”

That was the moment when, after all that you’ve been through the past days, you realized that you and Bucky haven’t had a chance to actually catch up with each other. Everything had been a blur of conflict and stress, and although you knew most of what had been going on in Bucky’s life through Steve, Bucky knew virtually nothing about yours.

“I do, actually—do you remember those rowhouses in Columbia Heights?”

Bucky knitted his eyebrows. “The ones with the… sculpted flowers on the doorway?”

“Yeah. I bought one of them in the 60’s.” You grinned.

“We used to say that we’d live there, remember? Make it big, you, me and Steve.”

You nodded. It was one of the silly things you held on to – your dreamhouse, back when you had no idea that either Bucky or Steve were still alive. Back then, your house made you feel like you had fulfilled some sort of promise. The iron fences and the flowerbeds made you feel less alone in the world.

And then Steve came back. And then Bucky. And now Bucky was back in your life, and Steve was gone. Your eyes watered every time you thought of him.

“I remember, yeah. Gosh, I miss him.” You wiped the corner of your eye.

Bucky nodded, his eyes downcast. “I do too. I guess—guess that’s why I was so hung up on Sam giving up the shield. But you were right.”

“Oh? That’s new.”

“Shut up.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ve been thinking… and I still don’t fully understand. But Sam deserves at least an apology.”

You gave Bucky one last look before turning off the autopilot. What he was saying – that he was willing to understand Sam’s choices, and apologize – made your heart swell.

“Oh my, pigs might fly today!” When Bucky let out a tired exhale, you giggled. “I’m proud of you, Bucky. Really.”

He watched you for a long time while you brought the jet down to Sokovian grounds.

Bucky had gone off to change into new clothes before the two of you headed to find Zemo at the memorial. At least, that’s where he had been seen most recently. You had stayed to speak to the manager of the small airport you had landed in, the jet needed to be fueled and stationed somewhere before you headed back to the US.

“Alright, they’ll take care of her until we—”

You rounded the nose of your jet and faced with Bucky in a well-tailored black coat, his hair was styled and he’d shaven too, now only a faint stubble darkening his jawline. He cleaned up well, to say the least. Your heart skipped a couple of beats.

“—why, don’t you look dapper.”

Bucky smiled. “Have you seen Zemo in that coat of his?”

You laughed. “Alright, hold on a minute now.”

When you returned to him, you wore heeled ankle boots, a dark skirt and a silk blouse, all over your trench coat. Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbled up and down as he took you in and you twirled, smiling sheepishly.

He offered you an arm.

“Come on, sugar.”

Sokovia was barren land now, most of the old city had gone up in the air, leaving a round crater in its place. There had been some rebuilding efforts, but everything was still quiet and empty. The memorial was right at the center, and as you and Bucky approached you saw him.

Zemo stood with his back to you, in that familiar overcoat, reading the inscriptions on the marble. You wondered if he had been waiting.

Bucky stopped walking, turning to you. “Ayo’s already here. She and the Dora will be waiting for my signal.” He took your hand. “Wanna come with me?”

“Do you need me?”

“I… should probably do this alone.”

You patted his hand with your free one before letting go. You drew a heavy breath when Bucky took out a pistol, then smiled when he emptied the bullets on his metal palm.

He raised his irises at you, a small frown making its way on his brow. “You said you were proud of me?”

You gave him a reassuring nod. “Always. I’ll be here.”

All you could do was watch now that Bucky was making the rest of the way to Zemo. If the Dora were watching somewhere, Bucky was probably safe, but you couldn’t keep your chest from constricting in apprehension as you watched him and Zemo interact.

Bucky raised the gun with his flesh hand, and with the other he dropped the bullets on the ground. That was the signal. The Dora Milaje came from behind Zemo, and Bucky looked over at you.

When they start walking off, leaving Bucky and Ayo behind, you approached.

“We will take him to the Raft, where he will live out his days.” Ayo said, greeting you with her dark eyes as you took place at Bucky’s side. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.”

“Fair enough.”

“And I hope to see you soon, Y/N.”

You and Ayo smiled at each other. “Same to you.”

Bucky gaped at you, and you had to stifle a laugh.

“Hey!” He called Ayo again. “I may have another favor to ask of you.”

You looked at him quizzically, and he smirked before closing the distance between him and the Dora Milaje, discussing something before walking back to you.

“It will be waiting for you once you get there.” She announced, and turned away. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Something for Sam.” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but lean into his warmth, and pulled him a little closer.

“How mysterious. Are we paying the Wilsons a visit, then?”

--

Delacroix was a close-knit community just south of New Orleans. It was sunny the day you and Bucky arrived, so much so that you’re able to ditch the heavy coats– you, at least, because Bucky had run back to get his jacket.

You didn’t mind much, that arm was a dead giveaway, and what truly mattered was him being comfortable – but you smiled once you noticed he didn’t have his gloves on.

You let Bucky go ahead and give Sam the favor he had asked of Wakanda by himself, despite his pleads for moral support. You figured it was a peace offering, and that being the case Bucky should deliver it himself.

When you finally approached them, greeting probably Sam’s sister Sarah with a smile, Bucky was busy tightening a pipe.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

“Well, I—I don’t always think of it immediately.”

“He’s right handed.” You quipped from behind them. Sam turned to you in surprise.

“Hey! I was wondering if I would have to deal with his grumpy ass without you.” He wrapped you in a hug and you laughed against his arm.

You smiled when Bucky rolled his eyes. “He’s actually in a good mood today.”

Bucky cleared his throat.

“So this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice.” Bucky was looking around, rocking in his heels. “Want any help?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, and you simply shrugged.

“He was pretty handy in our time.”

Sam studied Bucky for a good two minutes in complete silence. Then, he relented, nodding and walking to the front of the boat.

Bucky stayed behind, looking up at Sam’s sister. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah. Sarah.”

You raised your eyebrows once you realized just what he was doing. The sly dog. 106 years and he was still the biggest flirt to ever walk the earth.

You rushed to ignore the slight pang of jealously that hit you. You were debating following them when Sarah extended a hand to you.

“You must be Y/N. Thank you for offering the safehouse to us.”

You shook her hand, thinking that you couldn’t really blame Bucky for flirting – she was really pretty. Hell, maybe you should be flirting too.

“It was the least I could do.” You smiled.

“Does he… do that often?” She asked, looking in the direction Bucky had disappeared to.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard that, from hopeful girls who wished for more than just a date and a dance with Bucky. But you weren’t in the 1940’s anymore, though, and you had a feeling that flirting wasn’t really something he did often now.

“I’ll guess, no?” You shrugged, and she shook her head. “Serious!”

“Okay, okay. You go, I won’t keep you anymore.” Sarah nudged you with her shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N!” She said, walking away and waving.

“You too, Sarah!” You waved back.

Sam was inside the wheelhouse when you found him. He was fiddling with a bunch of wires that looked more like a plate of noodles than something that was supposed to power a machine.

“And what’s going on here?”

He huffed. “I can’t get the panel to turn back on. Are you any good at this?”

“Technically I only know my way around flying things. But I can try.” You waved your hand and he stepped to the side, allowing you to start sorting out through the wires and try to see what could be connecting to what.

“You know, I think I like staring Bucky better than flirting Bucky.” Sam said in a serious tone, and you smirked.

“What a protective brother, you.”

“No, no—I’m a protective friend too. You made a face when Bucky started being all flirty with my sister.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him. “No I didn’t.”

“Uh, yes you did.”

“Did not—” You sighed. “We’re just friends, Sam. Always have been. And that’s what we’ll continue to be.”

You connected a couple of wires and the panel flickered.

“Look. Even before I knew you two were a pair of old relics from the last century, I had a feeling you two would be good for each other.” Sam looked out of the window as Bucky walked by it, busy with scraping the paint off some wooden bitts. “And I am a great wingman.”

He winked at you, proud of his own pun, and you rolled your eyes.

“We are good for each other. Good friends. Best friends, if I may be so bold.”

The panel flickered again, then went out again. You groaned. You were so sure that would get it to work.

“It’s no use. Thing’s busted.”

“If I get it to power on, will you drop the cupid thing?” You stared at Sam with raised eyebrows, a challenge lingering in your eyes. He narrowed his, then turned to the panel.

“Deal.”

You tried again, this time joining a different set of wires, and the panel lit up. And stayed.

You smirked. “All done!”

“No no no, no— you set me up! Deal’s off! You tricked me!”

“No dealing off! You’re welcome!”

You laughed, exiting the wheelhouse and stepping into the warm sunshine. You spent the rest of your afternoon like this – helping Sam fix the boat, looking at the engine but still not getting it to work, scraping off paint and laughing at Sam and Bucky’s antics.

The sun had started to set when Sam called in for a break, offering you and Bucky a beer and a breather.

“What’s in the case?”

You raised your shoulders, just as in the dark about it as Sam was. “Dunno. It’s your gift, you’ll find out when you open it.”

“Well… gonna catch my flight tomorrow.” Bucky started, getting up and taking the last swig of his beer. “Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know?”

You knitted your eyebrows. Sam began chuckling.  “So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

You hid your face in your hands. So smooth, Bucky.

“Just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small t-shirts or if you have six toes or if your mom’s your aunt.”

Sam trailed off, but Bucky chuckled, raising a hand to stop him. “Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

Sam started laughing and stopped himself quickly. “But don’t flirt with my sister. ‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.” He deadpanned.

You snorted. Sam elbowed you in the ribs.

“Okay.”

“Alright boys, I should get going, though. I can fly myself out still tonight.”

“Ah ah—no, he’s not staying here if you aren’t. C’mon, Y/N.”

The two looked at you expectantly. You sighed.

“Fine. But I am leaving first thing in the morning. The GRC vote is soon, and I have not been benched.”

On the contrary, actually. You knew the bubble was about to burst and so did the government. They needed all the help they could get to keep things running well, with so many international representatives coming over to New York for the vote.

--

Sam’s family home was a cozy three-bedroom facing the water and surrounded by green. It was homey, and the minute you stepped inside you felt at ease.

It was a Wilson thing, really. The house only reflected it.

You and Sarah had hit it off quite well, becoming quick friends after bonding over being completely done with Sam and Bucky’s incessant banter. They even had a staring contest, like the children they were.

“So, Bucky doesn’t flirt often… because you are into each other.” She said playfully as you cleaned the dishes from the dinner.

Your jaw slacked. “What—he’s not. Sarah! We’ve been friends for so long, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. Also, Sam told me—”

“Sam was supposed to drop that! I can’t believe he told you.” Actually, you could. You set a couple of glasses on the dish rack, groaning.

“Hey, he told me not to tell you! But I did anyways.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Enjoying the double agent life, huh?”

She laughed, and you went along with her.  

“I just think you should tell him how you feel. Before Samuel tries to parent-trap you.”

You knew Sarah was probably right – You should know better than not telling him before it was actually too late. You should, and yet the words die in your throat every time you looked at him.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes again. There was no going around it, but as it turned out, you were a coward. You were a coward, because you needed him to know. He deserved to know too – but you didn’t want to scare him off. Not now, that things were finally good. You’ve come all this way, and you promised him you wouldn’t leave.

This longing – this love – was only going to be a huge problem.

“I can’t. I don’t want to mess things up.”

She sighed at you and turned around to put the dishes away. “So you do have feelings for him.”

You looked at her, your eyes wide. She smiled big.

“Maybe you should date him.” You raised your eyebrows and crinkled your nose as she turned back to you, hands on her hips.

“Ah—no, don’t drag me into this.” She swatted you with a dishcloth when you raised your hands in defeat. “Let’s find you a place to sleep, girl.”

After much insistence on your part, Sarah agreed to let you sleep on the couch instead of Sam’s bed. You didn’t want to strip them off their comforts, so you settled on the couch, and Bucky took a mattress and placed it next to you on the floor.

The setup is familiar. You’ve slept like this before, you on either the bed or the couch and Bucky on the floor. Only thing left was Steve, your third piece. You’ve been trying not to spend all of your time missing him, but quiet nights were especially hard.

You tossed and turned for a while until Bucky reached for your hand, another of those old habits that had been resurfacing ever since you two started spending time together. With your hand secure in his, you drive the grief away and let sleep take you.

--

You woke up with the sounds of two kids making their own fighting sound effects. The smaller had the shield on his arm. Maybe it wasn’t just metal, after all. Maybe it could be more.

Bucky watched them from his makeshift bed, a grin on his face. “Hey.”

You giggled as the boys hurried to put the shield back in its case and ran back further into the house, startled by Bucky’s voice. “They’re so sweet.”

“You ever wanted them? Kids, I mean.”

You’re caught by surprise by Bucky’s question. Taking a deep breath, you processed it, trying to find a good way to answer it.

“I did – still do, I guess. It was never the right time. Or the right person.”

You closed your eyes, thinking that your person was laying right under you, on a mattress on the floor.

Strange thing, timing – you were born in 1918, and spent most of your life believing that your time with Bucky had come and gone. Now you both were more than one hundred years old, living way past your time frame – perhaps completely different people than what you used to be, but together again nonetheless.

Timing wasn’t right then – you wondered if timing could be right now.

Opening your eyes, you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was early, still barely 6.

“I have to go.”

Bucky was sat up, looking at you with a little frown. “No breakfast?”

“Well, I don’t want to abuse Sarah’s welcome. I’ll get it on the way.”

Bucky got up with you, his eyes following you as you gathered your things and he folded the blankets you two used during the night. He followed you to the door, then out to the front lawn, then to the start of the road right at the edge of the property.

“Don’t forget to have that talk with Sam, okay?”

“Yeah. I won’t.” He looked back at the house, and then at you. “I’ll see ya’ back at the city?”

You hummed. “You know where to find me.”

Bucky pulled you in, kissing your head, and you hugged him back tightly. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

“Take care, sugar.”

“You too, Buck.”

You turned back twice as you were walking away, finding Bucky on the same spot the first time and making his way back to the house on the second. Your eyes met both times, and you had to keep yourself from running back.

[hallowxiu]

The Avatar of Greed & Pacts

pairing: human!mammon x demon!gn!mc

word count: 3.7k

summary: Mammon meets Solomon and learns about pacts for the first time, and becomes curious about the concept himself.

a\n: sorry i was mia the last couple weeks. my last day off was nearly two weeks ago so i’ve just been kinda dead lol

let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see in this series! i’m always up for suggestions :)

part four of the human!mammon & demon!mc series

part one | part two | part three

“Absolutely not!”  You were darting down the hall like your life depended on it (which it technically did, since Lord Diavolo expected you to keep Mammon safe), eyes wide as you looked for your white-haired human. This might have been your fault (it was) since you neglected the human while having your brief exchange with Lucifer. Of course, you completely forgot that Mammon wouldn’t know where his bedroom was, because why would he? He’d never been to the House of Lamentation before. It was shortly after you realized your mistake that you heard a yell from down the hall, suspiciously close to Asmodeus’ room, that you also remembered he was wearing nothing but a towel. 

“Asmodeus!” Out of breath from your short jog over, your chest rises and falls. “Leave him alone! Keep your dirty hands off him!” You slipped off your shoe and threw it at your younger brother. “He’s not even been here for an hour; you will not traumatize him in any kind of way!” 

“Dirty?” Your brother gave you an incredulous look while flawlessly dodging the shoe thrown his way. “I just had my nails manicured, and you’re calling them dirty? I keep my hands cleaner than anyone else in this household.” He was offended, looking at you with narrowed eyes. His hands were placed on his hips while Mammon stood pressed against the wall, his hands clutching at his towel before he spotted you. 

“Oh thank god.” He scurried behind you, peering over your shoulder as he examined Asmodeus from a safe distance. 

“You shouldn’t say that around here.” A sigh left your lips as you kept your eyes on Asmodeus. “Why were you harassing him?”

“Harassing? I was doing no such thing! I’ll have you know that most people, no, everyone would be honored that I would even spare them a glance. I was just admiring how cute our new human exchange student is, that’s all. And in nothing but a towel? It’s almost too easy; it’s like he’s putting on a show just for me.”

 There’s a smile on his lips which causes your guard to go up more. “Behave, Asmo.” You take Mammon by his wrist, having him follow your lead. “And make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight! Lucifer wants everyone ready for classes tomorrow.” You called over your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah.” You could hear your brother sigh from where he stood before he disappeared back into his room. 

You’re sitting on Mammon’s bed as he pokes around his new room, freshly changed into a new pair of clothes. “So this is really my new place?” There’s a hint of suspicion to his tone as he skimmed through the textbooks laying on his desk. 

“For the rest of your stay, anyway.” You hummed out while scrolling through your phone. “But feel free to pop into my room whenever you want. Just make sure you stay away from Lucifer’s office, his bedroom, and Asmodeus’ bedroom.” You felt like it was self-explanatory why he shouldn’t be snooping around those areas. “Since this will be your new home, try to get as comfortable as you can. You’ll find that the time will pass by a lot easier if you aren’t stressed out of your mind.” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Mammon’s holding up one of the textbooks Lucifer had put in his room earlier in preparation for tomorrow. “This doesn’t even look like it’s in English.”

You spared him a single glance before looking back down at the device in your hands. “Because it’s not. That textbook is for your demonology language course. You’ll be learning our language.” You informed the human. 

“Sounds like a pain to me.” He huffed under his breath before dropping it back down on his desk. “So,” an awkward beat of silence passes over the two of you, “ya never introduced yourself.” You raised an eyebrow at him from where you sat. “I mean ya told me your name and all that jazz, but you didn’t tell me what your power was or whatever.” 

“My power..?” A chuckle slips past your lips from the realization of what he was trying to ask you. “Right, I suppose I didn’t tell you about myself. You kind of picked me before Lucifer even introduced me to you. I’m the Avatar of Greed.” Mammon’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape at your explanation. 

“So what the hell does that mean?” 

You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “It means I’m greedy. What do you want me to say? I like everything that’s in the form of money. I like selling things and making a quick buck off them. I love earning money, the feeling of money under my fingertips, the smell of money, anything and everything about money.” 

“Ah,” Mammon snaps his fingers in realization before pointing at you with a bright smile, “so you’re greedy.” You felt the little patience you had left drain from you. 

“And you’re stupid.” 

You watched the smile drop from his face.

“Do you remember everything we went over last night?” You’re glancing over at the human walking by your side. “Mammon, pay attention.” You have to drag his attention back to you when noticing that the human was too busy staring at everything around him. Today was the first day of classes at RAD, and it was your job to make sure nothing happened to him (specifically, to make sure no demon ate him as an afternoon snack). “Seriously, I understand that everything is new to you and you’re probably feeling overwhelmed by all the new plants and creatures you’re seeing, let alone all the different types of demons around us, but it’s extremely important that you don’t find yourself wandering away from me. I’m the only thing standing between you and a hungry demon sizing you up for a meal.” 

“...Sorry, what did ya say?” 

Once again, you felt your patience drain from you. However, although he was testing your patience, you knew it was for the best that he was assigned to you and not one of your brothers. You doubted Lucifer would keep him the entire year without snapping and killing him, and your other brothers would probably just forget about him and leave him to die in a closet somewhere. You cringed at the thought. 

“Relax, I’m just messin’ with ya! ‘So uptight, ya need to chill out a little.” Mammon’s nudging your side as he walks with you. “I’m not some child, I’m not gonna wander off and get myself eaten or anythin’. Believe it or not, I’m actually pretty decent with following instructions.” While a part of you doubted that, you were relieved to know that he listened to what you had said. “Listen, if what you’re sayin’ is true, if I need to stay by your side at nearly all times or I’ll get killed, I’m not gonna move away from ya. I mean, look at this face.” Mammon frames his face with his hands, cupping his cheeks as he smiles up at you. “I’m way too handsome to be eaten by some ugly demon.” 

Against your better judgment, a laugh leaves you. “Whatever you say, Mammon.”

“What? Ya don’t think I’m handsome? Sounds like jealousy to me.”

“Leviathan’s the Avatar of Envy, not me.” You corrected the other playfully. “Anyway, besides attending your classes today, you’ll also meet the other exchange students. This could be good for you, Mammon. At least one other is a human. I understand that it’s important for humans to socialize with each other, otherwise, they feel alienated and can become depressed.” While you were no expert on humans like Lilith or Belphegor, you did end up studying the human race as a whole once Lucifer assigned Mammon under your care. “His name is Solomon, and while he’s a sorcerer, he’s still a human so you should be able to relate to him a little bit.”

“A sorcerer? Ya mean to tell me that that shit’s real?” 

“You’re surrounded by demons in another realm and yet you can’t grasp the possibility of a sorcerer?” 

“...Touché.” 

“The other two are angels. I’m sure they’ll treat you well; angels have never had much of an issue with humans.” You, on the other hand, might find yourself having a hard time forming any kind of relationship with them. However, you heard some rumors that one of the angels was Simeon, and if that were the case… 

“Angels, huh? I suppose that makes sense if I’m surrounded by demons. But they let angels down here? That seems a little more taboo than inviting some humans.” You found yourself agreeing with Mammon. You weren’t exactly sure what Lord Diavolo’s plan or goal was, and you weren’t sure how angels would fare down here. 

“Everything’s confusing to me as well.” You decided to be honest with him. “I don’t even think Lucifer completely understands Lord Diavolo’s goal, but all we can do is go along with it and hope for the best. I will do my best to make sure none of the exchange students are harmed during this program.” To Mammon, you might have appeared as a loyal subject to Lord Diavolo. In reality, however, you knew that if something were to happen to one of the humans or angels, there could be another war between the realms. That was something you dreaded, and it brought up too many painful memories. You’d rather everything go over smoothly, even if you didn’t understand the reasoning of Lord Diavolo. “Are you ready for class?” You ask before Mammon can get anything else out. The two of you were standing at the entrance of RAD, and Mammon was looking a little timid. You knew he wouldn’t say anything to you about his nerves, so you’d just have to calm him down without his help. “Luckily for you, we have all of our classes together.” 

“Lucky me.” He said with a roll of his eyes. You felt your eye twitch in annoyance, but decided not to say anything. “Well then, let’s head to our first class, shall we?” 

“Mammon, you shouldn’t look so scared.” You find yourself whispering to Mammon as the two of you walk down the halls after your last class. “That’s the look that demons love on a human. It makes you look more delicious.” Mammon throws a weak punch to your arm. 

“Shut up. Are ya tryin’ to intimidate me or somethin’? Because it’s not working!” You raise an eyebrow at his behavior, though you shake your head. He must be exhausted after spending the day surrounded by demons. It must be similar to placing a mouse in a room full of hungry cats. No wonder he was so on edge. 

“We’ll be home soon enough, Mammon.” Before Mammon can respond, though you could assume what it would be based on his annoyed expression, you hear someone call out his name. The two of you turn around and you find yourself stepping in front of him subconsciously. When seeing the figure approaching the two of you, you drop your guard as a human scent washes over you. “You must be the other human exchange student. Solomon, right?” 

“You’d be correct. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the Avatar of Greed.” There’s a coy smile on his lips that causes you to immediately bring your guard back up. Despite Solomon confirming that he’s a human, Mammon still lingers behind you slightly. Solomon catches a glimpse of the human standing behind you. “You’re Mammon, right? What an interesting name for a human.” 

“Shut up. Who the hell is named Solomon anyway? And ya think my name is weird for a human? Rich.” He huffs before moving to stand beside you. 

A laugh leaves Solomon from Mammon’s response. “What’s with that treatment? There’s no reason to be suspicious of me. I’m an exchange student from the human world, just like you.”

“He has a pact with my brother, Asmodeus.” You inform Mammon. “Barbatos as well, Lord Diavolo’s royal butler.” Mammon looks up at you and then over at Solomon with wide eyes. 

“How did ya manage that? Ya have pacts with them?” 

“Through a lot of bargaining,” Solomon says with a bit of a sigh. “But I’m trying to get the rest of Asmodeus’ brothers, too. Primarily Lucifer.” You watch the sorcerer with a raised eyebrow. “And you, too.” He sends a wink your way, to which you immediately roll your eyes. 

“Unlike my brother, I’m not that easy to get a pact with.” You informed Solomon before turning your attention back to Mammon. “You should make sure to bond with him, it’s always good to have another human watching your back in a place like this. Just make sure you don’t let him drag you into any trouble. Unlike Solomon, you don’t have fancy magical powers to get you out of any bad situation.” You can hear Solomon scoff from where he stood. 

“I’m not that bad; don’t give Mammon a bad impression of me.” There’s a pout on his lips, though it quickly turns back to a smile. “I dorm at the Purgatory with the other exchange students. Feel free to stop by whenever you feel like it. I feel it’s important for the exchange students to get along since we’re all in a foreign place.” 

“Maybe you can meet the other two exchange students then.” There’s a smile on your lips as you look at Mammon. You were hoping he’d meet the angels today (and for you to find out if Simeon was here), but at least he was able to meet the other human. 

“I’m sure they’d love to meet him,” Solomon says as he shifts where he stands. “Regardless, I have to be going now. Demons to see, things to do.” Solomon smiles and waves goodbye to the two of you before heading off in the opposite direction. 

“So that’s the Solomon I always hear so much about from Asmodeus.” You find yourself thinking out loud as you and Mammon begin your walk home. “He’s interesting, though I’m not sure what I was expecting him to be like. He’s a little shady if I’m being honest. Then again, I suppose a human with seventy-two pacts with demons would be shady, don’t you think?” You watch as Mammon nearly chokes on his spit as he walks beside you.

“Seventy-two pacts?!” 

“I know, I think it’s a bit overkill as well, but I guess he doesn’t think so.” 

“How did he even manage that?” 

“Well, I’m sure some of them are low-ranking demons. It’s not exactly hard for a human to strike up a pact with them. However, I’m not sure how he scored Barbatos and Asmodeus. Asmo might be easy to tempt, but he’s a little difficult when it comes to making pacts. There’s a lot that goes into a pact, you know.” You inform the human beside you. “I guess I shouldn’t underestimate Solomon.” 

“Hmm…” Mammon’s lips are pressed into a thin line and the conversation goes silent for a few minutes. “Say,” he looks over at you after saying your name, “do ya think I could ever make a pact down here?” 

“A pact? With a demon?”

“Duh! Who else would I be makin’ pacts with, demon?” His hands are on his hips as he side-eyes you. “And to think that ya make it out that I’m the stupid one, then ya go around askin’ obvious questions.” 

“Hey, watch it.” You threaten the other before returning to his question. “I suppose, though I’m not sure with who. If you mean with any of my brothers, then I highly doubt it. And if you mean with me, then I can just tell you right now: no.” 

Mammon huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “No need to be so rude about it. I was only curious, and it’s not like I’d want a pact with a stupid demon like ya anyway.” 

“Then why’d you ask?” 

“I could have meant anyone! Not just you; now ya just sound like the Avatar of Stupidity.” 

“That’s not a thing.” You respond with narrowed eyes. “Behave, or I’ll leave you here alone.”

“As if you’d ever want to disappoint your precious Lucifer.” Mammon sticks his tongue out and you nudge his side. 

“Careful, or I’ll end up eating you.” You stick your tongue out as well. 

You open the door to find Lucifer already at home. Upon noticing him, Mammon grows uncomfortable and shuffles behind you again. He noticed, of course, and a slight frown forms on his lips. “You don’t have to act as if I’ll eat you every time you see me.” Lucifer places his cup of coffee on the kitchen counter and walks over to the two of you. “I simply just wanted to see how your first day of classes went. You’re in one piece, so it couldn’t have been all that bad.” 

“It wasn’t bad.” Mammon stiffly responds. “‘Was borin’ though.” Lucifer chuckles at this and only shakes his head. “I did learn somethin’ interestin’ though.” Both you and Lucifer look over at him curiously. 

“And what could that be? Has a class already piqued your interest? I’m sure Lord Diavolo will be thrilled to hear that.” Lucifer has a sweet smile on his face, one that you know to be practiced and rehearsed. Although he’s your brother, and maybe the one you’d even consider yourself to be closest to, you don’t trust him to be alone with Mammon. 

“That humans can form pacts with demons. Solomon has so many pacts, I can’t help but be a little jealous.” You instinctively roll your eyes at Mammon’s words. He’s back on this again, you think to yourself with a sigh. You were feeling uneasy about how this conversation could go with your brother. 

“Oh, you didn’t know that? Yes, demons can form pacts with humans if they wish. With the low-ranking demons, it’s normally not too difficult. Do you perhaps already have your sights set on a demon?” The smile is still on Lucifer’s lips, though this time it seems a bit more agitated. Before Mammon can respond, Lucifer decides to speak up once again. “I hope it’s not with any of my siblings. It could be viewed as offensive if you think they’d be that easy to form a pact with. It’s only your first day here, after all.” Mammon’s face is flushed from embarrassment and you can’t help but feel slightly irritated toward your brother. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to get hurt, would you? Getting a pact is a dangerous game, and unlike myself and your wonderful babysitter--”

“I am not a babysitter.” You interject. He ignores you.

“--not all of my brothers behave as well as the two of us. Seriously, Mammon,” you raise an eyebrow from the usage of his name, “don’t do anything that could get you killed.” Lucifer sounds tired as he ends the conversation, dismissing the two of you as he heads towards his office. “I have a stack of paperwork to get to, so don’t interrupt me unless there’s an emergency.” 

Mammon waits until Lucifer’s gone before turning to you. “Your brother honestly scares the shit out of me.” You can’t help but laugh at his honesty. 

“You get used to it. Just stay on his good side and there’s nothing to worry about.” You reassure the other. “But I wouldn’t ask him too many questions about pacts. I don’t mind them, but Lucifer, I don’t think he’s too keen on humans and I don’t think he’s too keen on this program of Lord Diavolo’s.” You give him a pat on the back before heading towards the stairs. “Follow me; we’ll do our homework together and then you’re free to do whatever you want for the rest of the night.” 

“Can’t believe I finished school just to be forced back into this shit.” He grumbles under his breath as he follows you to your room. “I didn’t even consent to any of this.” 

“Does that matter?”

“Are ya askin’ me if consent matters? Seriously?” 

“Of course not, dipshit.” You roll your eyes, for what seems like the millionth time that day, at Mammon. “I’m saying, does it matter if you wanted to be here? At the end of the day, it doesn’t change anything; you’re stuck here and can’t return home regardless. You might as well make the most of it, even if you are stuck in school again. If it makes you feel any better, I also don’t want to be stuck in school but just like Lucifer and the rest of my brothers, we don’t have a choice in that matter.” You drop your bag on the floor once you enter your room and sit down on the edge of your bed. “Since it’s your first day here, I figured I’d help you out with the homework in case there was something you didn’t understand. Not to brag or anything, but I’m kind of a professional when it comes to being a demon.” 

“So you’re a professional demon.” Mammon snorts as he sits beside you. “How lucky am I?” 

“To be stuck with me out of everyone else here? I’d say extremely lucky.” You hum while flipping through one of your notebooks. “Now pay attention, because I don’t feel like going through every question three times.”

“I think I got paired with the bossiest demon in all of the Devildom.” 

“Say that again and see what happens.” 

“You’re the bossiest-- hey!” Mammon just barely dodges a notebook that flies in his direction. “That’s abuse! I’ll file a complaint; claim that you’re tryna eat me and shit!” 

“You can’t accuse me of trying to eat you every time you do something stupid and get hit for it.” 

“Sure I can! I just did, and I’ll do it again, too.” 

“Out of every human to get selected for this program…” You pinch the bridge of your nose in irritation. “And it had to be you.” 

“You’re not happy? Odd, I’d be honored to spend all the time in the world with me.”

“Of course you’d say that.” A groan nearly leaves you and you run a hand over your face. “Open your notebook, Mammon. Let’s breeze through this homework so I can get out of your hair.” And most importantly, so he can get out of your hair. 

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 6: Level-Headed

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

You meet Nightwolf. Turns out that he's a really good dude. Liu Kang is still having a tough time but he is seeming at least a bit more like himself. He's got a level-head but now you're the one who can't keep it together. And who could blame you?

A/N: I am just so happy that other people like reading the nonsense I write. I know it's not the best but I'm having fun writing it and it's even more fun getting to enjoy it with people <3 Sorry I'm so sentimental lately. Just feeling really loved and I want to spread that love~

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The next day was awkward but you weren’t biting each other’s heads off at least. You were both too tired, it seemed. Liu Kang had a big red comical handprint on his face that morning but it faded by the afternoon. You were both unhappy but you supposed this might have been progress since you weren’t snapping at each other. Either that or you’d taken ten steps backwards and said things you didn’t mean and had done irreparable damage to your friendship.

By the evening you were drawing close to the spot on the map, or at least you thought you were. “Look.” You gestured to a cabin in the distance. You could barely make it out between the trees. Then there was the howling of wolves and you heard their footfalls running toward you, the shadows of the hulking beasts flittering between the trees. It was only seconds before you were surrounded by wolves enveloped in green mist.

You drew closer to Liu Kang and summoned a sword with your ink. Liu stood at the ready but didn’t summon his fire yet. Neither one of you liked to hurt animals, even when they were aggressive. Besides, the floaty green mist made it seem like you were out of your league with these wolves.

They didn’t attack. Instead the voice of a man broke through their howling and the dogs silenced as he walked amongst them. Tall, with messy dark hair, dark eyes and tan skin, the man’s presence was commanding. This had to be Nightwolf or at least someone in close relation to him.

“What brings you to this place?”

Liu made to speak but you grabbed his arm to silence him. He’d caused more than enough trouble with his mouth the past week and you no longer trusted him. “We’ve come to talk.” You dug in your bag and one of the wolves growled. Intimidated, you felt Liu Kang step before you defensively. You reached into the bag and dug for the wolf charm you’d been given. Then you presented it to the man and the wolves disappeared. The man turned away from you.

“Come.”

You exchanged a nervous glance with Liu who remained tense after you’d interrupted him. He nodded to let you know he was okay and you followed the man into the cabin. “You’re Nightwolf.” Liu Kang wanted to make sure.

“Yes, that is what they call me now. You must be trusted to have been given this location and that trinket.” He addressed you and you offered a polite bow.

“I’m Y/N and this is Liu Kang. We’ve come a long way to talk to you.” For a while, the conversation went smoothly. Liu Kang explained the dragon marking and its significance, showing off his own and having you express that you had one too. He explained the nature of the realms, of Lord Raiden, of the war that was likely coming and that you needed him to speak with Lord Raiden and come train in his temple. You were grateful that Liu Kang had somehow managed to have a civil conversation with someone. One point in the win column against a thousand in the lose column. That was something.

But Nightwolf didn’t seem eager to join you and instead mulled over your information. You couldn’t blame him. This was a lot and some of it was beyond belief without proof. If you hadn’t been thrown into the whole mix against your will, then you would have struggled with it too. You’d had nowhere else to run at the time and had been in over your head with unruly arcana and visions from the past.

“I have a duty here in America. I’ll have to think about it.” At least he was honest.

And reasonable. Leaving everything that he’d ever known was a huge decision. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t return someday but there was also a chance that he would die. What you did was dangerous. Your lives tended to be short. You held your bag a little closer.

“I’m to bring you to Raiden’s Temple. I won’t leave without you.” Liu was sounding harsh again so you sighed. Maybe that was why Raiden had sent you together. Liu Kang was too grief stricken and angry to do his job on his own and you were too swept up in guilt to stay focused. You balanced each other in a horrible way.

“That decision is not yours to make, friend.” Nightwolf was incredibly respectful considering Liu Kang’s tone but the air became tense.

“I understand your hesitation, but would you give me a chance to try and convince you? You have a little time to think about it but we’re not sure how much. The longer you get to train the better off we’ll be. We have no idea how long before Outworld strikes again.” You tried to play mediator. Liu Kang’s hand grasped your arm and you nearly snarled in anger but somehow managed to get yourself together.

“We don’t have time for this, Y/N.” Liu scolded you.

“We do. You’re being impatient. Take a breath.” You narrowed your eyes at him dangerously.

“Excuse me, then.” He gritted his teeth and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. His temper was out of control. You winced at the sound of the door slamming. You missed him. You wanted him to be okay.

“I’m sorry. It’s been difficult. This war has taken a toll on us all.” You offered an excuse and a smile.

“He seems troubled.”

“He’s a good man, I promise. Just having a hard time right now.”

“You seem troubled.” Nightwolf added with a knowing glance. He was a good judge of character. He was calming and you were grateful for that because you had enough frustration from Liu’s attitude. If you snapped, it would have made Liu Kang’s poor attitude look like child’s play.

“And I’ll be okay too.”

“So, tell me, Miss Y/N. Why do you think that I should help you?”

“Well, it’s not me that you’re helping, that’s why. It’s not us. Earthrealm is our home, warts and all. If we have any strength then we have a responsibility to protect it in any way that we can, no matter what that means.”

“A wise answer.” He smiled and you were relieved. “Is that why you do this?”

“Ultimately, yes.” You had found, over the years, that honesty was the best policy. There were plenty of times where it didn’t work, but Nightwolf seemed to be looking for honesty. You had a feeling he would be able to tell if you lied. “I was sort of thrust into this at first. I had nowhere to go after my mark and so I was brought to Raiden’s Temple, which I fought, and then I was too sick to leave. I fought at first because I didn’t know what else to do. I was lost. But with time and understanding, I found that no matter what other reasons I had, I would fight to protect the place and people that I loved. This is my home, and I am willing to die to keep it safe.”

“But you weren’t at first?”

It felt like a test, and you hoped beyond hope that you were passing. You’d failed enough the last few months, you couldn’t risk another check in that column.

“I was overwhelmed with the scope of the danger and truth of all this. In the beginning, I treated it kind of like a joke because I didn’t understand. I knew, deep down, that it was the right thing to do but I had no other reason than that. That changed, of course. I think it’s normal to want to think it over. Liu Kang thinks it is too, he’s just not himself right now. I hope that you don’t judge him too harshly for his temper. It’s not like him.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Y/N.” He stood and walked to the counter, picking up a clear bottle filled with tan liquid. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“You have no idea.” You laughed and he joined you in having one. As long as you weren’t with Liu, there was no risk of you making another stupid mistake. And as long as one didn’t become ten, the risk of that was even lower.

Nightwolf turned out to be a kind and interesting man. He had struggled with his mark because the mark meant that he was special. You understood how that felt. Embracing the fate of something beyond your control had scared you too, but it had been worth it in the end. You listened to him as he shared his story and you shared a drink. You were a good listener. You always had been, and he seemed to appreciate the ear.

When your glasses were drained, he took them and set them aside which you were grateful for. “There are couches and some blankets that are open to you and your friend. I’ll make my decision as soon as I can, but I make no promises as to what that decision might be. You have been patient with me, and I appreciate that patience. I will do what I can.”

“This is a big decision but time is of the essence. Still, I want you to take that time.” You wouldn’t push him into giving up his life as he knew it to travel halfway across the world. You wouldn’t push anyone who didn’t deserve pushing. You also had the feeling that he was going to help. He seemed like a kind and powerful man whose motives were morally aligned with yours. You were grateful for that. So many with the dragon marking had wound up being scumbags.

“Thank you. Get some rest, Y/N.”

“I will. You too.” You watched him leave and then were left alone in the kitchen. You set your bag down on the smaller couch and walked outside. There was a firepit near the house and several overturned logs that served as benches. You sat on one of the logs and faced away from the firepit. The sky was overcast that night so you couldn’t see the stars but watching the clouds was soothing too.

Then Liu Kang sat next to you.

This was all too familiar now. You watched the clouds and were at peace for a short time.

“I’m apologizing again.”

“Oh. What for now?” You couldn’t help it. The sarcasm came out. He mulled it over as if to be thinking through the list of nonsense that he’d done in the last few days that he had to apologize for. Then he gestured back to the cabin.

“Being a jerk about this whole thing, for one.”

“That is just not specific enough, I’m afraid.” You turned to him.

“Being short with Nightwolf. He deserved time to mull it over.”

“I know he did. You know he did. You’ve got to figure out this temper that you’ve developed, Liu.”

“I don’t know where it came from. I always had such control.” He slumped his shoulders.

“You’re grieving.”

“Yeah, but so are you and you aren’t jumping down everyone’s throats for no reason.”

“Not when you’re looking, at least.” You were still angry with him even if he seemed willing to talk. He’d upset you. An apology wasn’t enough.

“I’ve got to get it together.” He held his head in his hands and pushed his hair back, disgusted with himself. The sound he made would have been funny if you hadn’t been a terrible mixture of mad at him and worried for him.

“Do you know what I keep thinking? What I keep wishing for?”

“Kung Lao to be back?” He said in a tired drone.

“No. I keep hoping that you find peace. I’m crushed by his death, Liu, but you’re broken.” You watched the clouds again. You wanted him to be okay, but you couldn’t be an emotional punching bag for him to figure it out with. He watched you and you could feel his eyes taking you in longer than they should have. He scooted closer. He probably didn’t believe you, and you couldn’t blame him.

“Your being here helps.”

Bullshit.

You laughed in disbelief. Liu Kang radiated with fire and you knew that feeling all too well and scooted a little away.

“Really? Because I feel like I’m actively making it worse.”

“Well, it’s complicated, isn’t it?”

“That’s a good word for it.”

“You remind me of him. You make it real. But also, you’re my friend. You were more than that.” He shrugged, clasping his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees. “We never really talked about it and it made things so hard.”

“We’re talking right now. We’ve talked and yelled a lot the last few days.” You were tired of talking about your grief in vague niceties. You were tired of being comforting. Of fighting.

“Not Kung Lao. Not grief.” He gestured between you and then returned his hands to his knees as if he had more control of them there. “About this.” You sighed heavily. Hadn’t you slapped him real hard about it the night before? “About what it was before you decided on Kung Lao.”

“I didn’t decide anything, remember? We did talk about it, Liu Kang. And you said that it wasn’t like it meant anything. That I didn’t owe you anything. A keep the change sort of comment. Remember?” You didn’t want to talk about it. You were so tired of fighting with him. It felt endless. How could Raiden do this to you? Why? Had you offended him in some way? Had your grief over Kung Lao not been loud and sad enough? “It doesn’t matter what you meant then, Liu, because that was what I was left with and so that was what I believed for years.”

“Except that I did that for Kung Lao. Do I not get to talk about it?”

“Sometimes it’s better to leave the past in the past and move on.”

“Except that it isn’t the past anymore, Y/N.” He grabbed your arm and urged you to look at him. You stiffened up. “I guess that you were hoping we’d just never talk about the other night. You keep running off. I tried to say something in the motel but you shut me down hard.”

“You can’t do this.” You struggled to speak without your voice trembling. His eyes were so dark and sad and full of fire, his lips twitching in a way where you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. “You can’t just bring it up whenever it’s convenient for you. You can’t just… wreck my emotions on repeat because you’re grieving. I’m grieving too.”

“Yeah, well you can’t just crawl into my bed and leave a bunch of scars down my back and then fuck off because it’s convenient for you.”

You were exasperated and threw your hands up in frustration. “We were drunk! Obliterated!”

“I wasn’t that drunk. I remember, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well I was. It was a mistake, Liu Kang. A grievous, drunken error that has only made things exponentially more difficult. I was sad and vulnerable and wasted. I made a mistake, okay? So maybe, just maybe, you can eat some of those lies you told me years ago. It’s not like it meant anything.” You spat with some venom and were surprised with yourself, covering your mouth after you’d said it. Oh, that hurt.

“I’m done lying, Y/N. I was never good at it. You’re not either.” He hadn’t yelled at you, which surprised you. In fact, he seemed to have a level head on more than you did. “It wasn’t a mistake for me. I knew what I was doing. I get that you’re trying to hurt me because you’re mad and grieving.” He said that in such an annoying way that you could have smacked him again. “But I’m saying now what I should have said all those years ago. It meant something. It meant something then and I knew what would happen if I went through with it the other night and I chose to anyway.” Liu was going to kill you at this rate. You were just going to drop dead. “Maybe I needed to feel something other than angry and sad. Maybe I thought I should try and undo something I regretted.”

Why was he so level-headed? Why, in this moment, had he managed to keep back his temper? If you could just yell at each other and hate each other it would be so much easier. But you didn’t hate him, you were torn between wanting to shake some sense into him and kiss him and it was so frustrating. Kissing him would only leave you more hurt but it seemed like the easier option too. You didn’t. You fought it, even if he seemed to be drawing closer. The tension of Liu Kang was so thick you could barely breathe.

“It was a mistake, Liu.” Your words were shaky but you tried to stand your ground. You’d beaten yourself up over this for too long and there he was, making it so much more complicated.

“Was it, Y/N? It didn’t feel like it was. It didn’t sound like it was.” His voice was low and serious and you felt your stomach twist into knots. “Look me in the eyes and tell me it was a mistake. That it was all a mistake. That it didn’t crush you when I said that all those years ago? That it had ever stopped being passionate between us even when we weren’t together. Tell me that. Look me in the eye and tell me that’s your truth and I will drop it.” He grasped your cheek and urged you to look him in the eyes.

You tried.

You couldn’t.

You were going to burst into tears at this rate and then he’d hold you and kiss you and you’d end up making this even more complicated and you couldn’t do that. Not right now. Not when he’d taken everything you’d known as truth and thrown it out the window. “I’m grieving Kung Lao and...” You couldn’t finish it. You couldn’t because it had never been a mistake to you back then. He was the one who had drawn the line in the sand. You’d just believed what he’d wanted you to believe for Kung Lao’s sake. And the other night was not something you remembered. There were only flashes of hot and sweaty lovemaking and all that version of you had felt was pleasure. Liu pulled his hand back and sighed.

“Figures that you would honor his memory more than think about yourself. He’d remind you that you were a terrible liar.”

You wiped your eyes as they betrayed you with tears and struggled to find words that didn’t involve crying or sobbing. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, damnit. You didn’t want to cry because of him. “This isn’t fair. It isn’t fair, Liu Kang. You can’t just… I can’t take much more.”

“I’m not trying to mess with your head, Y/N. I’m not trying to hurt you. You feel guilty but you don’t have any reason to. You think I don’t feel guilty? It’s eating me up. But we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? To figure it out?”

“Why are you being like this? Why now? Why?” You wiped furiously at your eyes. Stupid tears. You were so tired of your eyes being puffy and painful all the time. Stupid Liu Kang and his stupid emotions and his stupid whirlwind of honesty and misplaced anger. Stupid Kung Lao, dying and leaving you to deal with this. Stupid Raiden not sending you alone.

“I think that you turned down Kung Lao’s proposal because you were worried that maybe you still had feelings for me and had to figure that out first.”

That was the last straw. You broke.

You hated that it was partially true. You’d never stopped being attracted to him and that had become painfully obvious. What a selfish reason it had been to turn down the love of a man who had been dedicated to you and you alone. You swore that your heart was shutting down, it was beating so hard. He had you confused. Was that part of the reason? You didn’t know because you hadn’t been given the chance to figure it out. The truth was that you probably would have married Kung Lao. You would have talked about your plans for the future, what he saw of it, what you saw of it, and then accepted his proposal. You hadn’t turned it down because you didn’t love him. You had turned it down because you’d needed to talk. You were less spontaneous than Kung Lao had been. The only reason he’d needed was love and you’d needed to know more details. That was it. Liu Kang was making you overthink in ways you hadn’t in years.

“I can’t do this.” You stood and Liu grabbed your arm before you could leave. His fingers brushed down your wrist and to your hand and he gave you a look as if begging you to stay. It was killing you.

“We can’t avoid this forever.”

“I let you have your time to process this bullshit, Liu Kang and you are going to let me have mine.” He didn’t let you go. His grip tightened on your hand as if afraid to let you walk away, as if you would never come back. “Liu Kang?”

“Don’t go, Y/N.”

“You will let go of me right this instant.” You avoided his eyes. “You have ignored my feelings in favor of yours for long enough tonight. Let me go.”

Liu’s grip tightened but then he very suddenly let go and turned away with a bow of his head. “Of course, Y/N.”

The panic as you marched back inside the cabin and sat down on the couch was killing you. You held your head in your hands. What were you supposed to do with this? You had to calm down, first and foremost. Thankfully, Liu didn’t follow you inside and you had some peace and quiet but your thoughts weren’t much better than his argument had been.

You’d fucked up.

It would have been so much easier if neither one of you felt anything. It would have been easier if he had been as drunk as you had been. It would have been easier if you could continue believing that it really had meant nothing. It had never meant nothing to you. It had crushed you and taken you months to recover from that sadness with no one to talk to about it. You may not have remembered the other night but you remembered him from all those years ago.

The hot nights, the times you’d spent devoted to each other’s bodies, tangled up in his sheets or in yours. He’d made you feel sexy and forbidden, something beyond desire that no one else had ever made you feel. You hated those memories for so long that it was hard to feel any way other than that.

You loved Kung Lao.

But would you have even gotten the chance to if Liu Kang hadn’t said what he’d said? You had this connection, this fire that you couldn’t put out even after years of letting it simmer down. Even now when you’d fought, you had known that if you didn’t get out of there then you would have given into that passion, that instinct. What a mess of a human being you were. You curled up on the couch and this time you didn’t pull your bag close to you. You couldn’t think about Kung Lao when you were like this.

Next Chapter >>

[dumpsiteforfics]

Yearning - Excerpts From a lonely heart : [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst and fluff

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, suicide, A/B/O, Drugs, Kidnapping, spoilers to criminal minds season 1 to season 6. Also, will include mpreg, at the end.

This is my a/b/o universe for Heid. As the name suggests, lots of yearning and angst followed by a fluff and smut eventually. First chapter might be slower but things will pick up soon. I don’t want to make the story longer, but we will see!!

Also, please check trigger warnings and also let me know if you would like me to add more warnings!

English is my third language so expect grammatical mistakes and typos, I don’t have a beta sorry. Also I hope you will give it some love!! I’m looking forward to the feedback.

AO3 link : Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

More about this au: Click here

Everyone waited with a baited breath as Tobias came back into vision and dropped down beside their agent's body. He started giving Reid CPR and they all prayed that it would work. In a few moments, Reid coughed up a bit, opening his eyes much to their relief. But the relief lasted only a few seconds as now Tobias thought Reid needed to choose one member from the team to be murdered. Aaron sucked in a breath, his fist clenched as he tried to control his feelings while watching Tobias play a sick game of Russian Roulette with his agent. With every lucky pull of trigger Reid's chances of escaping the death were decreasing and Reid seemed to know that. Aaron knew Reid had a plan, he knew his agent's mind and his wolf kept on stressing how Aaron should keep faith and give Reid a chance. He was right!

"I choose Aaron Hotchner", Aaron heard and immediately he could feel how every one of their teammates looked at him. But he knew Reid had a plan and he focused his senses on his agent, took visual clues and kept his mind focused on the words Reid was saying, and he understood. He was leaving the room before Reid could even finish saying the quote from the bible, a wrong quote. Reid can never be wrong, so that meant he was doing it on purpose, and he looked up through the Bible for the said quote and his wolf couldn't be more proud.

The team was of course taking his actions in a wrong way and they all tried to convince him about how he shouldn't take Reid seriously. And he really was getting pissed off at how they can think about him that way but right now he finally had a clue and he didn't want to waste time in anything but finding his agent. He brought the team up to speed quickly with his analysis, Garcia and Emily's inputs collectively gave them a location of where Reid was. And for the first time since he found Reid was kidnapped, his wolf jumped into an adrenaline rush of getting to do something to save the Omega.

We are coming to take you home Reid!!

***†***

Reid's relief at being able to give the team some solid clue about his whereabouts was short-lived when Tobias injected him with another dose and then it was again the numbness followed by those scary memories taking a grasp of his mind. He shuddered as the memories this time were brutal, of the time he sent his mother into Bennington. He felt the disappointment, the grief and the sadness that had taken over his mother's mind deep inside his heart and all he could think about was how he had been a bad son to her. But towards the end of his haze, he was surprised to find his mind full of certain alpha he had been having feelings for. And it wouldn't have been bad if the said alpha wasn't happily married to love his life and if Reid wasn't promised to another alpha. It was a sin, to have feelings about your boss who was in love with a kind woman all his life and already had a sweet pup earlier this year. His pack Alpha was fierce and loyal, always kind to everyone and here he was taking disadvantage of it by finding some sort of pleasure in his company. He shouldn't be doing that, he shouldn't be thinking about anyone else but his own Alpha, whom he hadn't even met yet. With the drugs already messing up with his mind, he didn't realise he was blurting out all of his thoughts loudly.

Raphael had already listened to his thoughts along with the broken apologies he had stuttered out, and he took it as a confession for the sins Spencer seemed to have committed.

Soon, Spencer found himself out in the symmetry, digging a grave for himself. His mind was so tired and on the verge of giving up. His brain told him again and again how he wasn't going to be saved this time, how he didn't deserve the saving even. But his instincts were at war with his brain. His wolf keen on hope of the team coming to save him, still fiercely loyal to his pack Alpha and trusting him to protect him this close to his death.

But then Spencer saw the flashlights, indicating the team was here, his wolf already picking up the trail of his pack and then things happened quickly as his wolf overtook his body. By the time Spencer could finally get control over his instincts again, he realised he was sitting beside Tobias's dead body and suddenly he was being pulled up by calloused hands, Hotch!

This time he didn't put a leash on his instincts and finally uttered what his wolf was whispering all along, "I knew you would understand, you always do!"

And he wasn't sure whether Hotch pulled him in or he pushed closer to Alpha, but he was in Hotchner's embrace, for the first and probably even last.

Safe, protected, warm, was all Spencer could feel and his wolf finally calmed down enough to purr in satisfaction. Hotch saved him, his pack Alpha, the one he trusted to understand him, the one who had not only listened to his ramblings but paid attention to them to remember them after all this time, the one that didn't take his words lightly and focused enough to understand the meaning in between.

Spencer didn't want to leave this place, this safety of having his pack Alpha wrapped protectively around him. And even in those few moments he mapped out his every sense, the way alpha smelled, the way his arms tightened and how warm his embrace was, how his heartbeats finally slowed down to match up with his own, even the littlest sigh of relief alpha let out. And he would never forget this, even without his eidetic memory. He was finally safe.

***†***

Aaron couldn't explain what he was feeling, after they heard a gunshot his wolf had let out a pitiful wail of anguish in his mind and he ran towards the sound. But, Reid was alive, he was sitting down beside Tobias, who was dead! He would think about that later, right now he wanted to pay attention to his agent. He was always mindful of touching anyone, all alpha and omega were in fact because sometimes a single touch could let you feel what the other is feeling and it isn't always welcome, and it can send both parties into sensory overload along with the emotional overwhelm. But this time it was different, he couldn't find it in himself to stop his wolf from wanting the omega in his arms. To check over and confirm he was alive, and unharmed. And he did just that. He pulled Reid up and he was floored with the amount of relief he saw in the younger's eyes. And he looked so so bruised and it did things to his heart, and he didn't like the feeling at all.

He wanted to apologise, he wanted to say so many things but all he could manage was a whispered, "Reid, you alright?"

And the Omega shuddered, before he replied earnestly, "I knew you'd understand, you always do!"

It broke his heart all over again and within a moment omega was in his arms. And something clicked, he felt whole, and he wasn't even aware he had been missing this before. What was happening? Why was he tightening the embrace? Was it because he was Omega? Would he feel this way with any Omega in his arms or was it just Reid? Without even realising Aaron's wolf started to store everything he sensed about omega in his mind, the way Omega quivered before relaxing in his arms, the way his distressed smell melted down into relief, the way he felt so small, so fragile yet how his presence made his wolf feel complete, he stored it all to be analysed later. He didn't want to let go, he wasn't even sure why but that might be due to the fear of omega's safety. Past few hours had been spent in constant worry and he was sure other teammates felt the same. That reminded him, JJ was waiting for Reid and that finally made him let go of Omega, though his wolf felt a flicker of something when Omega seemed reluctant to let go.

Aaron watched as Reid was hugged by his teammates, everyone wanting to make sure their youngest agent was fine. He knew how they were still scared to lose him, and it was Gideon who told them to give him some space. Reid looked terrified at the thought of being left alone, but then Gideon assured him that he will be close, and they will never let him go out of their reach ever again. Aaron wanted to stay, but he knew how close Gideon was to the Omega, so he focused on formalities needed to get Reid checked in the hospital. All the while his wolf silently kept his senses hyper focused on Reid.

***†***

Spencer was terrified to be away from the team again, scared of being left in isolation in darkness, but there was one thing he needed. His wolf tried to stop him, tried to say he didn't need it, but his brain had developed a dependency, he needed it, maybe not to consume but definitely needed it close, within reach. So he convinced Gideon to give him a few minutes with Tobias which Gideon thought he deserved considering Tobias was his first kill. But Spencer didn't want to apologise to Tobias, yes he was disappointed that he had to kill Tobias, when in reality it was Raphael and Charles who made his lives difficult, but in a way, Tobias was at a better place. And Spencer knew he had the drugs in his pockets, and he knew he needed those. And with his decision already made up, he reached into the dead man's pockets before pulling out two vials, keeping them into his own before meeting Gideon. Gideon wordlessly provided him his bag, thinking Spencer would need his comfort items close, and considering how everything worked perfectly together to ensure no one could see the drugs he had stolen, Spencer decided it was God's will!

Nothing is going to be the same ever again!

Taglist: @ssa-sarahsunshine @brillianthijinx @thaddeusly Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist! ❤️❤️

[luna-nigthshade-wood]

Nobody cared enough

Sumary: There is a church on an abandoned property in the middle of nowhere. It used to be full of parishers, but it now lays empty. People avoid the area completely. They say strange noises can be heard at all times but especially at night. Furniture moves from a place to another. People that venture there don’t last the night. Everybody is on agreement that the land has been cursed, so no one checks on it. That is why nobody notices when it happens. Its November

Stanford Era-- Dean dies while Sam is in Stanford. It takes his family a lot of time to notice

Note: I wasnt on a good place mentally when I started writing this, so I think I proyected a little. Hope you enjoy

There is a church on an abandoned property in the middle of nowhere. It used to be full of parishers, but it now lays empty. People avoid the area completely. They say strange noises can be heard at all times but especially at night. Furniture moves from a place to another. People that venture there don’t last the night. Everybody is on agreement that the land has been cursed, so no one checks on it. That is why nobody notices when it happens. Its November

 John Winchester has been hunting for the thing that killed his wife for what seems like a lifetime, dragging both of his sons with him. He always tells himself he did the best he could. Sam is long gone to Stanford and all that he has left is Dean. Not exactly. He has started sending him to hunts alone. He needs to cover more ground. He needs his soldier to be ready for war. In reality, he cant barely look at his son, seeing a soldier of his own making feels like a stab to the heart. There will be time to rectify mistakes once they find Mary´s killer. There will be time to a “chick´s flick moment”. There will always be time (Time already ran out)

 Sam Winchester, smart and proud Stanford student. Sam, who finally got free from his family. Sam, who will make a name for himself. Sam, who is ashamed of his childhood, of his family, of his father, of Dean. He doesn’t understand why his father would scream at him for wanting to go to college. He doesn’t understand why Dean never fights for himself. He doesn’t understand why Dean doesn’t leave. He wishes he could talk to Dean sometimes, but he won´t. He knows Dean will try to make him come back and he has already outgrown his family. Maybe in a couple of years once he is a big shot lawyer he would call him, maybe he will do a hunt with him for old times sakes. He knows Dean will welcome him with open arms. There is no doubt Dean will be there (Except he will not)

Its April

Dean didn´t call to report after he finishes the hunt

He didn’t call after he sent him another set of coordinates

He didn´t respond to his messages asking where the hell was he afterwards

He didn’t contact him in a week

He didn’t contact him in a month

John hasn’t heard from his son in 6 months. He figures he might have gone to visit Sammy or he is using his charm somewhere. He promises himself he would look for him afterwards. Right now, Adam needs help with a school proyect.

 (In New Orleans there is a voodoo case getting out of control)

(In Arizona, there is a werewolf running rampage)

(There is a spirit in a lake, a wendigo in a forest, a woman in white in a small town, all of them taking victims without a hunter to stop them)

 Sam is ready to propose to Jess. He has the ring ready. After his successful interview, he is going to take her to a nice restaurant, get on one knee and propose. He grabs his phone to tell the plan to his friends and his hand slipped. He sees Dean´s contact and think about calling. Thinks about sharing the best moment of his life with his brother and he pauses. Dean´s last text was on October, his last call 2 weeks before that. There is a feeling of wrongness there, like the one he gets after waking up from a nightmare where Jess is on the ceiling, a voice telling him that there is something wrong. He swallows the feeling and calls Brady instead to put his plan in motion, all thoughts of Dean forgotten. It’s a great time to be Sam Winchester

 There is something wrong. Bobby can feel it in his bones. He is not superstitious, but years of being a hunter had taught him to trust his gut, and his gut tells him something is wrong.  He hasn’t heard from his boy yet. Nor Caleb nor Jim had heard from him. Nor any other hunter he knows. He keeps leaving voicemail after voicemail until the machine tells him the phone is full. He starts searching hoping to get an answer. He even calls John´s cell only to get an answer machine telling him that if he needs anything to call Dean. And for some reason that worries him the most.

Fire. That is the only thing that Sam´s mind seem to grasp. There is a fire around him, around Jess. Jess is dead and someone pulled him out of it. He hears someone screaming until he realizes he is the one who is screaming. Sweet, perfect Jess is dead. Someone, something put her on the ceiling, like mom. Probably, the same thing that killed mom, now left him without a fiancé. He tries calling Dean, with no success. He tries dad, with the same results. He tries Dean again, and that leaves him with a bitter taste on his lips. Dean doesn’t answer. For a minute he thinks something is wrong, before anger consumes him. How can his so called family be so callous as to ignore him when he needs them, how can Dean not answer his cell right now? He would find them and he would scream at them, and then they would find the thing that killed mom and Jess, so he could return to his perfect life away from hunting. (Careful, little grasshopper, you are starting to resemble your father)

 John gets the voicemail of Sammy first and sees the news later. His heart breaks a little after hearing his youngest (middle?) in pain. He almost responds to his son, but he hesitates. He needs time to figured out what happened to Sam after that night with the demon. He needs to know what did that creature did and how to revert it. He needs to find a weapon. Meanwhile, he saw that someone pulled his son from the fire and he marbles on Dean´s ability to get Sam out of danger. He will send Dean some coordinates so they can keep hunting and training for the war, so they remain occupy while he searches for answers. He will get his revenge, so he can return to his family (So sure of yourself that you have a family to return to).

 (There is a plane that crashes down for no apparent reasons, followed by other 2 accidents. A desperate friend keeps asking for help, but it falls on deaf ears)

(There is a property on Lawrence, that is plagued with evil, a family recently move don’t survive the chaos, and a psychic with a heart of gold, doesn’t understand what is happening)

 Bobby keeps calling all his contacts and finds himself empty of answers. Nobody knows nothing and in this profession that is the worst answer you can get. Rufus and Ellen offer their help. A young man, name Lee comes forward and start searching himself. Suddenly, half of the hunter community is up in arms trying to find their missing comrade. The beef they had with John never extended to his sons, especially to the one that was always ready to help someone in need. Dean was important, Dean was loved (Too bad he didn’t figure that while he was alive)

 (The Apocalypse was cancelled yet again, it wasn’t the first time in all history where this had happened. It just meant that preparations had to be made for a century or so ahead. There would be other vessels, and other players. Michael felt oddly relieved that the fight had been postponed, Lucifer down in his cage felt the same)

(Azazel knew the plans were cancelled, his kids got a free pass without knowing it, they would return back to normal. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still play with the Winchesters for a while, nobody cared after all)

 It all came to head on an abandoned church in the middle of nowhere where a poltergeist was seen last. Somehow, Bobby, John, Sam, Caleb and Jim had ended up there at the same time. John was shocked to see Sam alone, as was Sam. Bobby, Caleb and Jim seem to be mad at something.

-Where is Dean? And what are you doing here? -John asked confused

-I thought he was with you- Sam asked, equally confused

-You don’t know- Jim asked horrified

-Nobody has seen your son since November of last year and you dare stand there looking confused- Bobby asked

-Wait, what?- Sam asked, anger leaving his body

-They don’t know- Azazel said appearing near the church

-Where is Dean?- John asked the yellow eyes demon- What did you did to him?

-I didn’t do anything to your “precious” son, but if you want to know, you just have to go behind the church and see. And don’t worry Jonny boy I will leave you and your family alone, after all I don’t need you anymore- and with that he disappeared

Sam was the first to move, crossing the field to get to the other side, and promptly wished that he didn’t, because below a broken window, on the ground lay the body of his brother.

The worst part wasn’t even that. The worst part was that the impact and the fight with the Poltergeist didn’t killed him. No, Dean got a spinal fracture, that prevented him for moving. He dies bloody and lonely days after the fight, screaming and praying for someone to save him. Asking for his dad, for his brother, for anyone to hear him. His last words, not that anyone would know, where “At least, I am going to see mom”.

It was November, again

  There is a church on an abandoned property in the middle of nowhere. And a bunch of hunters that gather around the broken body of a young boy, that never had a chance

AO3

[orangegreet]

No Minor Miracles | Chapter 2

An Evening in Winter

The darkest evening in winter begs for just a sliver of light.

If he thought things would change for them following their late night miracle, Aleksander was sourly mistaken.

Months went by without contact.

The more angry he became about it, the more it confirmed that he was out of control.

Seeing her, being vulnerable to her, opened a floodgate. A torrent of warring emotions swirled around him so that he struggled to even name them properly before they shifted again.

Despite assertions made by Alina on prior occasions that these feelings created a more rewarding experience in life, this inability to distance himself from every nuance of emotion degraded his mental state.

Centuries of conquering every thought. Controlling every outcome. A puppeteer to countless Tsars with whole nations bent to his will—all to be undone by a slip of a woman who had barely existed for even three decades.

Alina, this one person to whom he was bound, body and soul, just happened to be so far outside of his grasp that he couldn’t name a single city she had passed through since the day she left Os Alta. For everything she knew about him, he couldn’t name a single one of her goals, objectives, accomplishments, or desires. It was humiliating.

She had promised he was one of her desires.

At least, this is what he clung to in the early days. Ruminating by the fire or letting his thoughts slip into this reassurance over another lonely meal or late in the night when he awoke without cause and stared out the window.

These were things he had never done before. Foreign and juvenile behaviors. Yet he allowed them to continue bringing him comfort. Allowed them freedom to permeate his day as he had let nothing else in several millennia.

Until the nagging doubt began to seep in.

Did she say exactly that she desired him?

It seemed burned into his brain at one time but some memories of that night which he previously savored began to disintegrate.

When they reformed, new perspectives propagated themselves like weeds in his recollections.

They drifted in to discolor formerly pleasant thoughts during an evening bath; late nights were spent hunched over a desk dissecting vaguely remembered words.

Madness stole over him at odd moments.

War council meetings were sometimes punctuated with abrupt surges of intensity which forced him to nail his hands to his sides lest he sic shadows into the throats of the King’s men.

An afternoon horse ride intended to invigorate and chase away all thought instead stamped his misgivings to the wall of his mind as decisively as hooves sunk into mud.

She had called him inevitable. Her Inevitable.

Inevitability did not exactly parallel desire.

Still, he refused to call to her. The one weakness he would not submit to again.

It was during these months following when the General discovered he’d grown a distinct bitterness toward his Heartrender as well.

It was the rancor in his own voice when he issued commands that tipped him off. Followed with a silent seething when the orders were carried out to perfection.

No accolades were awarded in the face of the exemplary service; eventually no words of gratitude expressed at all yet Ivan remained stoically indifferent.

Unfortunately this only fed the festering malice.

The Darkling persevered to tamp it down. The longer he was away from Alina, the more desperately he tried pull the armor back around himself. Only, to his increasing distress, the cracks in the facade would not be patched.

This, the General realized, was the source of his ire. Understanding came to him in the form of some sudden glaring prophecy that he could never have foretold.

With regret, he understood the advantage of having the most highly skilled Heartrender in the Second Army at his side, also meant employing a man who was privy to every betraying fault in the rhythms of the General’s chest.

His growing madness had physical tells and it would not do to have them known to anyone but himself. Every staccato, every irregularity, every tremor exposed his ever slipping control.

Ivan knew too much.

Initially, the Darkling resigned himself to killing his right hand. In his defense, he fully intended to do the deed himself—bequeathing the task to another would be dishonorable to the decades of otherwise impeccable service.

However multiple strategy sessions spent visualizing every step that would follow such a death led him back to the beginning to start again. A new tactic to try, a different scenario to explore.

Until he eventually determined there was no true gain for him in Ivan’s death.

The bitter reality of the situation was this: no one could be by his side except a Heartrender. And yet no other Heartrender had ever shown such aptitude for pain, control, precision and, ultimately, discretion.

No one could replace the man. His death could not be borne since it would bring no peace.

Any replacement to follow would be just as dialed in to the state of his or her General, but their loyalty was too great a variable to gamble.

And so he was left with one recourse.

“You asked for me, moy soverennyi?”

“Fedyor. Yes, enter.” The General stood from his desk, brushing past Ivan and coming around the War table.

“I have a new assignment for you.”

“I am glad to serve, General.”

“The Fjerdan outposts are in desperate need of strong leadership. The caliber of your performance in the Second Army is recommendation enough for me. You are being promoted to Major and sent to the front in Tsibeya at dawn.”

Fedyor’s eyes slipped past his General briefly to land on Ivan before snapping back and allowing a pleased smile in return.

“Thank you, General. I will make you proud.”

The General nodded his dismissal and waited until Feydor left the room to return to his desk.

The General sat at his desk.

Hours passed while he wrote letters to his commanders, instructions for individual missions, referenced maps and calculated coordinates. Ivan remained silently, dutifully at attention beside him. The lunch hour passed, neither man broke the silence.

For these hours, the General worked harder than he had in months at keeping his emotions in check, his blood running cool and breaths even. The sound of quill scratching on parchment, drawers opening and closing—he was determined these would be the only irregularities for these few hours.

No work was given to Ivan. He asked for no input from his Heartrender and let the hours pass essentially ignoring the man.

Ivan did not break.

Dinner came. Two meals sent up from the kitchens. The General ate without comment. His Lieutenant did not move.

“Food not to your liking, Ivan?” The attempt to keep his tone neutral was undermined by the slightest sneer.

“I am grateful for everything provided to me. All of it in service to the Second Army. To all Grisha and to you, General.”

The grip on Aleksander’s fork tightened.

“And yet you do not eat.”

“Hunger escapes me at the moment.” Ivan cleared his throat and continued, “I will take my meal with me at dismissal, it will not go to waste.”

“Very well.”

More hours passed.

Ivan stood at attention.

He did not ask when he would be relieved for the evening. He did not point out how odd it was for the General to remain confined to his desk for twelve hours straight. He did not ask for anything.

Finally, it was Fedyor who broke the stalemate.

“Pardon me, moy soverennyi.” The new Major reentered the War Room at well past midnight.

“Of course, Fedyor. Are you packed?”

“I am, sir. Thank you. I came to ask—“ Fedyor’s eyes again slipped to Ivan and then back to the General and he straightened his posture again.

“I came to ask if I might borrow Ivan. J-just for a few hours, sir. Until departure.”

The General stared at Ivan— his expression remained stubbornly neutral though he thought he saw an eyebrow twitch.

“I realize my request is impertinent and on the heels of a promotion—I do not mean to ask for too much. You are well within rights to deny—“

“Fedyor,” The General held up a hand.

He glanced at Ivan again who gave no sign of acknowledgment. It could almost be believed that he did not know Fedyor.

“Not impertinent at all, Major. Ivan, is it your wish to be dismissed for the evening?”

Fedyor looked confused as he watched his impassive partner. Confusion slipped into hurt and Fedyor took a back step toward the door.

“Moy soverennyi.” Ivan spoke loudly. Realizing his mistake, he quickly adjusted his volume.

“Yes, if it is at your leave, I wish to accompany Fedyor for the remainder of the evening.”

The surge of victory within the General was brief.

In the next moment, Ivan tore his eyes from Fedyor and stared directly at the General, “In addition, it is my wish to escort the Major to the front. At your leave, of course, General.”

This was unprecedented. Unplanned. Unpredicted. A simple extortion tactic gone awry. He only meant to twist the pressure point in his Heartrender. Prove to his Lieutenant that it was not only the General who had a weakness. Embarrass him as he felt embarrassed.

For Ivan to turn it around and instead request a leave of some three weeks—for the journey to Tsibeya is a long one—was beyond comprehension.

Somehow Ivan tipped out all his cards on the table when all the General wanted to prove was knowledge of what he was holding.

The top two officers in the Second Army stared at each other for several long moments.

“I will consider the request. Dismissed. Both of you.”

“Moy soverennyi.” They said with a bow, but he had already turned his back.

Aleksander did not get to sleep that night.

When morning came he stood outside to see the newly appointed Major off to the front.

“Hold.” He instructed the coach driver in his perch.

“Ivan. I’ve come to a decision about your request. You will escort our Major to the front and are granted two weeks of leave to do so.”

Ivan struggled to suppress his surprise.

“However I’ve detailed an itinerary for the return trip. It’s been too long since I have been to outposts in that area directly. Once in Tsibeya, you will travel the rest of the Fjerdan front and our holdings along the Fold. You are to visit for a total of 4 or 5 days at each camp and report back to me. I want to know which camps are low on resources, which have become sloppy, areas of improvement and any developments. No detail is too small. I want to names. I want recommendations.”

It was Fedyor who composed himself first. “Perhaps you should go pack quickly, Lieutenant.”

“Of course.” Ivan said, “General, thank you for the opportunity.”

The General gave him a curt nod and the two men in red disappeared.

Though his plans skewed sideways, Aleksander managed to secure what he needed. Peace. Solitude.

No one around to witness the attempt to tame what Alina set free inside of him. His wretched Sun Summoner.

His life had been nomadic for so long. Even as a General he never stayed in the same place longer than a month unless it was necessary. With Ivan as his eyes and ears on the ground, Aleksander was free to remain in the Little Palace for the winter.

He saw few people, spoke to fewer still except when required to request food or have a bath drawn, a letter sent. The Royal Family retreated to the Southern Palace for winter and took their share of the War Council with them. This suited him quite well. Communication over correspondence was easier when it came to strong-arming the tactics. Not that the King’s men bothered much to engage with the war over the winter. That was for the Second Army General and First Army commanders to sort out. The King would take the credit for the victories or redirect the blame accordingly.

Even with the solitude, sleep was difficult to come by. He felt as if he had been running great distances for months on end; his body in a constant state of awareness only to find the coal bucket empty and the engine slowing to a crawl.

More frequently he stayed confined to his quarters, conducting his work at odd hours when he felt he could concentrate. Other times he stared unseeing out the window and over the grounds. Grisha children played and trained under the tutelage of the older students and soldiers on leave. Their voices carried up from the grounds and for the first time in memory he paused to listen to their conversations. Simply for the sake of his own curiosity.

He did not interact with them and sooner or later, the malaise would set in and his mind would be lost to the present once more.

Most nights Aleksander found himself sat by the fireplace in his arm chair with a nightcap.

On this night he was kept awake reviewing the reports Ivan sent him on a daily basis. Thorough work. Exemplary work. Aleksander sighed.

One week and a half to enjoy together and then split apart for an undetermined amount of time. During a war, no less.

Ivan made no mention of his assignment, nor Fedyor’s. News from Fedyor, though slightly less formal, was no less professional.

He wondered to himself at his ability to control two such destinies as theirs, one letter from each of them in each of his hands. He considered the power he wielded over them so successfully. So easily.

A very small darkness in him purred at his own actions even as the rest of him could not stop fretting over the decision.

Was it necessary to have done this? He never would have cared before.

Fedyor was proving to be an excellent leader for an otherwise miserable post. Ivan was somehow more thorough and likely more suspicious than even the General so he could have no concerns about the strategy behind in their placements on the board of this war.

But was it necessary to remove either man from their stations in order to keep them apart? Specifically to keep them apart to spite his most loyal Lieutenant?

It was getting difficult to remember why this had all started. He never would have cared before.

“Hello Aleksander.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of her whispered greeting.

Could she have picked any other night? Any other than this one?

“Why do you haunt me when I feel at my weakest to defend myself?” He asked.

“You are always droll when we meet. First I am your demon and now I am your ghost.”

Months he sat wrecked in this very room wishing for her to call to him. Not daring touch the tether himself but simply hoping she wanted to see him.

How was she here?

He opened his eyes and looked over at her. It stole his breath to see her shy smile and he mourned again how weak he had become.

“You’re radiant.” He was flat-toned and sparse in his review but his eyes swallowed up every detail from her elegant, styled hair to the glittering gold necklace draped across her collarbone.

She arrived half undressed for the evening with only a boning corset and thin layer of skirts which would typically be hidden under a fine dress of silk. They were cream colored and plain and it was with added misery that he noted she had a soft glow about her.

A vague nudge in his brain hinted that he was curious about her evening activities but he found he did not have the energy to pester her. Not tonight.

She looked on him with concern and then came to kneel before him, resting her chin on his knee. He exhaled.

“I have never seen your feet before.” Her tone was amused and interested. Looking down at his bare feet peeking out from the large fur he pulled around himself before taking a seat by the fire.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, resigned to let her do all the talking for a change.

“Do you know what tonight is?” She asked.

Hair fell into her face and he brushed it back.

“I admit I don’t.”

His voice was gruff with disuse and she sat quietly contemplating his mood.

“Have you received bad news?”

Alina cast a curious eye on the letters from his two Heartrenders, held loose in his hand and quite close to her face.

He started and quickly folded them up.

At the movement she pulled away from him lest she catch a knee to the chin.

“Did you come here simply to investigate my affairs and then flit away again for another year?” He snapped, throwing the letters outside of his reach and consequently outside her view.

“O-Of course not—“

“Then why have you come?” He demanded.

She opened and closed her mouth, unwilling to voice the obvious.

If Alina was here, it was because he was the one who called to her. She answered.

Aleksander took a deep breath and pulled the furs tighter around himself. He thought of the letters, the pair of Heartrenders, the unbearable sadness he felt now and looked away from her in shame.

Now she was here, the thought of her discovering his ill-conceived retribution on Ivan was deeply distressing. Why tonight of all nights?

“It’s been many nights since I have seen you awake in my visits.” Her voice was so soft, so timid.

His sadness expanded under the weight of the implication. He had been calling to her in his sleep. Who knows how many times in the last few months.

She answered.

She answered and still she never called to him.

He thought about opening his mouth to speak but his jaw did not want to move. Eyes fixed on the night sky out the window.

He felt her move close again. A small hand reaching under the furs to find his.

“You need sleep.” She pulled him to his feet. When he realized she wasn’t letting go, he tightened his own grip and walked her to his bed. His fur fell away, exposing his chest and black sleep trousers.

With hesitation, he lay his head on his pillow, looking almost as if he wasn’t sure if he was using it correctly. She exhaled a soft laugh and smiled, climbing into the bed.

Alina situated herself against the headboard, maneuvering his pillow into her lap and stroked over his bare shoulder and down his back. She gathered his torso in her arms, folding herself over him possessively.

Aleksander squeezed his eyes shut, his own arms circling her thighs and pulling her to him.

She hummed her pleasure.

To be touched so freely, so thoroughly was his undoing. Part of his life-force returned to him at her touch and he held her small body tighter around him. She did not seem to mind.

“Why do you never call me to you, moya solnyshka?”

He could not see her face for which they were both glad while she thought about how to answer him.

“It would not be wise.” She said eventually.

The rejection burned. She must have felt it.

“If I brought you to me each time I wanted you, I would not let you leave.”

His insides cooled. It did not change his demeanor but she smoothed the edges with her words. She was not sure that she should have said it.

“Then it is cruel of you to stay away.”

She laughed. “Good.”

“Good? Good that you are cruel to me?”

His eyes turned to look up at her. A teasing smile alighted her face as she leaned over him.

“Yes. I sometimes think you confuse cruelty with justice. This world has been unjust to you so you deliver it your cruelty. It is good for you to feel this difference.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. It made him look so young to her that she chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You think it is your role to teach me such lessons?”

“Would you listen to anyone else?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “If you asked me to listen to someone else, I would consider it.”

She blushed. Outside it was cold and dark and the world was scarred with the cruel things he had wrought. But right now his little sun was here and she was gently giddy and she relished holding him as no one had in several lifetimes.

He reached a hand up to tangle in her hair and brought her lips to his. They were soft. Her pulse thrummed under his palm and he smiled that he did not need to be a Heartrender to know her rhythm in that second.

“You say sweet things sometimes.” She stroked his brow with her pinky. “Be wary of the man who has sweet words and sour actions.” She said this to him in a wisened, deep voice, finishing with a giggle.

“Just what devilish proverb is that your casting over my bedsheets?”

She tilted her head back with mirth, “That is a Pabelism.”

“Am I supposed to understand this phrase?” She beamed down at him as her eyes danced with a private joke.

“Just a man named Pabel who taught me one or two or two million things like that when I was younger.”

He quirked his eyebrows at her, “Hmm. Sounds like the opposite of the things my mother would say. Where your Pabel warns you away from such a vagrant, Baghra would likely make the same man a job offer.”

Her cackle surprised him, “I’m sorry. It’s just…that is funnier than you know.”

The gaudy necklace chose that moment to come loose from her neck and she clutched it back to her sternum before it could fall.

“Sorry about that.” She let it drop into her hand and a moment later, it was gone. Presumably dumped next to her in whatever place her real body lay at the moment.

Aleksander remembered again that she was not truly there. It unnerved him.

Perhaps he already felt the loneliness of the Little Palace before now but with her light here, it cast bigger shadows and he grew fearful of its absence.

“Alina.” His fingertips trailed the outline where her necklace just lay, “Where were you tonight?”

“Aleks—“

“Don’t—“ He brushed his fingers over her lips and his voice was softer than it had ever been when he asked, “No specifics necessary. Just—It makes me crazy at times how little I know about your days and your nights. I want to picture them. I want to picture you as you are in real life.”

She still looked unsure.

He sat up. “You see me here, Alina.” He gestured around himself. “You know the Little Palace. You could name several members of my guard and soldiers. You’ve seen meetings in my War Room and you have watched me pay courtesy to the bloody King and Court.”

His voice cracked with the volume and he lowered it again, not wanting to frighten her. “As if that were not enough, you see me sleep. Do you know how maddening this is?”

He did look mad on this night. His long hair was wild and fell in thick sheets around his shoulders. The bags under his eyes and pallor of his skin told her that he was neither sleeping nor eating well. His chest which was bare now without the protection of his furs also seemed somewhat more lean. A clear loss of muscle mass and strength. It was easily the most vulnerable she had ever seen him.

Alina looked more conflicted than ever which he hoped meant that she at least wanted to share something with him. Her hands fidgeted with his, picking at callouses in his palm.

“I want to see you in the sunlight. And if you will not allow me that right now, I want to imagine you there.”

He was speaking soft, kissing her hair.

“This is why it is hard to see you,” she whispered. “I want to share these things with you. But we are not there yet.”

“You still are not convinced of my devotion to you? You do not trust that I will be on your side in whatever you do?”

“No. It is not that at all. You do not see it because you are here. You are running an army and behaving like a General and carrying out orders for a King on the opposite side of the Fold from me. W-We are world’s apart, Aleksander.”

She was being reticent again, saying only a fraction of what she was thinking.

Where his hand was lax in her grip, he now curled it around her fingers.

“That is why I want to begin to do things together. You could show yourself—come out of hiding and show the world that the Sun Summoner is no mere rumor. She is more than a mythical saint who delivers nameless people from certain death. You and I could show all of Ravka the power we two can harness. We can lead Grisha everywhere out of hiding and into true sanctuary.”

His brain and body were alive with energy for the first time since this horrible winter set in. The intensity of it was channeled through his eyes where he held her gaze.

“No, Sasha. We cannot. I-I cannot. Not now.”

“But why, Alina?” He gripped her arms, willing to shake the information loose from her lips but she merely stared back at him with a pained look.

“Everything is different on my side of the Fold. I cannot explain everything right now but I will someday, I promise you that. One day I will share everything with you and we will not keep anything from each other.”

“And should I decide to come to that side of the Fold of my own accord?”

It wasn’t a threat. At least she wanted to believe it was not but his demeanor shifted into that of the General beginning negotiations.

She frowned. “I would ask you to consider that your are not the only one who plans for a better future for Grisha. I have plans of my own in motion. Plans that will turn to ruin if they are disrupted by the revelation of my identity as the Sun Summoner—or by the attentions of the Shadow Summoner.”

He stared hard at her, eyes wide, willing to read her secrets through her very skull.

She continued, “You should also know on this side of the Fold, there are those you have harmed who would seek retaliation on you. I do not know that I can stop them.”

His eyes hardened as he looked at her, a haughty expression stealing him away.

“Those I have harmed? Who exactly do you mean?”

She sighed and shrugged a shoulder. “Does it matter? I do not think you notice or think of it as harm. You do things as a General in war and those actions hurt people. People who are dear to me.”

“Tell me which people are dear to you and I will see that it is stopped.”

“Do not mock me.”

“Perhaps you could draft a list? First and last names please, followed by their exact locations and their specific relationship to you.”

She glared at him, “You know, for as long as I have desired you and wanted to keep you for myself, you have made it very difficult for me to be able to do so in good conscious. It seems that you do nothing but set up more obstacles for us.”

He sighed, running a hand over her hair in supplication. “Surely you can meet me halfway on this, Alina. Tell me how to make things right for us right now and I will do everything in my power to see it through. You cannot leave me in the dark forever.”

“I do not want to leave you anywhere but you are asking me to give you all the answers to how to be good. I cannot lead you out of the dark with my light alone. You have your own light in you.” She poked at his chest. “One which you have neglected for far, far too long. I cannot unearth it for you.”

If he did not think she might disappear on principle, he would have rolled his eyes at her. Dramatically. Still he couldn’t contain every speck of annoyance from crossing his features.

She held his face in her hands, willing him to hear her. “You think I am being trite but I am not. You have a light that is your own inside yourself. You have to be willing to find it. Just as I have found my own darkness within me.”

She could tell this intrigued him. If she could provide him some measure of comfort, it would be the knowledge that she was not the Sainted Sankta, untouchable and untarnished. She was not better than, just different.

“What darkness have you found?” He was worried for her. She looked away, nervous to divulge too much.

“I have learned of some kinds of darkness. I have seen its uses and I have exerted them when I had no other option.”

“The girl I knew looked on darkness and thought it blasphemy.” He was sardonic and baiting her with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“I could not have remained the naive girl you once knew.”

“What changed?” His tone was flat but she felt his temper building under the surface.

“When we were here together all those years ago, when I found out who you were and what you had done; The Fold, the creation of an army, a dozen deaths and a dozen resurrections of yourself—I was…intrigued.”

Aleksander sat back from her, kneeling and leaned away. “‘Intrigued’, is it? Not ‘repulsed’? Not ‘horrified’? Because I believe those were words you used then—“

Alina cringed at the memory, “I remember what I said.” She cut him off before his temper could derail them.

“I am sorry. What I know now is that you are not what frightens me. I feel the suffering of our people and I have heard their stories and seen their scars every day of my life. What truly frightened me then and what frightens me now is how easily I could sink into vengeance myself, same as you.”

His mind could not process. The place in his head in which Alina lived, an Alina full of brightness and charm and grace, could not also harbor the urge to plot, to maim, to rule over otkazat’sya lives in the same way his blood thirsted for it.

He told her as much. “You do not know what it is to seek vengeance nor retribution. You're practically still a child. You could not know the depths of pain that would drive you to see a thousand otkazat’sya lives crushed beneath your boots. When they look upon your little sunbeams they will weep and bow and worship you for them as equally as they have punished me for my shadows. Do not compare your vengeance to mine. You will never have to know the terror and impotence of watching a gang of otkazat’sya rape and torture and mutilate while your hands are bound.”

She laughed at him. An empty, pitying laugh.

That stoked his ire to breaking point. He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her to his face.

Through gritted teeth he snarled at her. “Do not mock me now, Alina. It is one thing to withhold your saint-given light from me. That is your right. But do not pretend to own a sliver of my darkness in you. I earned it. I bled for it. I watched thousands of Grisha bleed for it.”

Far from being frightened at this outburst she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead into his.

“You are starting to understand. This is what I am trying to telling you. I am not claiming to own your darkness. It is not your darkness or your shadows in me. They are my own. Born of my own experiences.”

Her eyes lifted to his. His grip on her hair had loosened. “You cannot be my teacher in darkness because I cannot allow you to get close to the darkness I harbor. It is mine to discover and understand and tame. When I am around you, you pull them out of me, Sasha. Just as my light calls out the light in you. Have you not felt it in yourself?”

He said nothing. He thought of his insanity. His madness. The rage, the desire, the unbearable sadness he was currently struggling to escape. Was this his light? He had never felt so acutely. It would be fitting that his light did little else but illuminate his pain.

“I have hope that one day we are strong enough to wield both within ourselves but right now I am afraid of dragging you down a moral path you do not wish to be on just as I am afraid you will lead me down a dark road that is not my own. Do you see now what would happen if we came together before both of us were ready? You would come to believe there was no goodness in you without me and I would blame you for the wrath that I harbor even if it is my own.

“We would hate each other in the end. I’ve already told you I cannot let that happen.” She whispered.

“Say something.” She brushed her palms over his head.

When he found it, his voice was husky.

“Leave.”

“Aleksander,” Her hands landed his shoulders.

He tried to pull away from her. She pulled him back.

He surprised her by gripping her jaw in his palm, his breath was hot on her face.

“No. Fuck your plans. Fuck your light.” He looked at her like a caged beast and his skin was emanating heat, “You denied me my own justice years ago when you would not stay with me and now you casually seek to exact the same retribution. How fucking noble of you.”

She yanked her jaw from his grip and pushed at his chest.

“Do not blame me for the flaws in your plan, you saints-forsaken fool. You are the one who hinged everything on controlling a person who you did not know and had not met. Fuck you and fuck your plan. You’re no better than the otkazat’sya who would trade me into indentured servitude.”

Shadows were pouring out of him and she knew the motion for the Cut on instinct. His eyes were wild with rage and she took a chance, snagging one of his wrists in each hand before he could release the blade. She tackled him to his back on the bed where she kept him pinned.

Both of them were panting as she perched over him.

“The Cut? Saints, Sasha. What were you going to do if that actually killed me?”

“We both know it wouldn’t have,” he growled. His wild eyes roamed her face. “Best case, it would have severed our connection and I could get some bloody peace for once. I could finally think.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Though he could overpower her, even he was frightened of his actions and couldn’t bring himself to move.

He felt her hands loosen their grip on his wrists.

“You’re right.” Her weight shifted off of him and he opened his eyes to see her holding her knees to her chest on the bed beside him.

“It is selfish to keep coming back here when I know I am not ready.”

Aleksander watched her with wary eyes.

“We should go back to how things were before. It’s cleaner.”

He was breathing deeply, willing words to come out of his mouth but his jaw wouldn’t move anymore. The energy that she brought with her, the energy that invigorated him like nothing else had this entire winter, was evaporating with her. His personal setting sun. Everything was happening quick. It always was with them. He had no words.

“Just—“ She closed her eyes and then opened them to meet his, they glistened with unshed tears. He wished he could feel something.

He did a little. But it was far away from him. Like a pebble thrown into the depths of a cave, hitting the stone walls and bouncing on the ground before going quiet.

“Everything I do, I am doing it for our people. Yours and mine. And maybe it is vain but I hope that in the end you will truly see me as your equal. Even if you end up hating me for eternity. I think I could endure your hatred so long as I still had your respect, at least.”

His eyes did not blink. He needed to see her fade out of existence.

Even when he was alone, he didn’t move. He could not bring himself to shift his head onto the pillow. He stared the same direction he had been staring, only now that she was gone, he had a clear view of the night sky outside.

It was an oppressive kind of dark outside. This was especially notable given his room was painted in his own black shadows.

“Do you know what tonight is?” Alina had asked him that early on.

It came to him then, though he should have known sooner.

It was the longest night, the darkest night of entire year. The winter solstice.

[tiaragqueen]

Paroxysm

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Shinazugawa Sanemi x Maid! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,6k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Implied possessive behavior, death, violence, blood, injuries, yandere theme

[Edited]

***

I like his hairstyle and clothes, and I’d like it even more if he’s given a moment of happiness.

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“If life's standing still and your soul's confused, and you cannot find what road to choose. If you make mistakes, you can't let me down. I will still believe.” - At Your Side [The Corrs]

The war had long ended, and yet, the toll it left was still felt until today.

Being the daughter of the housekeeper who had been residing at Ubuyashiki estate since her early adulthood, you were already familiar with the existence of demon slayers and their stringent training, including the pillars themselves. Though, your knowledge of the latter was superficial at best. You only learned bits of their backgrounds, motives in joining the Corps – which, to your relief, were all noble unlike some slayers who only entered for the money – and combat styles. Your interaction was limited to some of the friendlier ones, such as Kyōjurō, Shinobu, Kanroji and, to some extent, Uzui.

Of course, you weren’t, by any means, despised the quieter ones. You occasionally had a lighthearted talk with Himejima and once shared a peaceful moment with Tokitō, whose death rattled you greatly for its macabre circumstances.

And yet, for some unknown reason, you ended up with Sanemi instead.

Perhaps, it was the pity that compelled you to work for him. After all, he had lost his remaining brother in the cataclysm of war against Muzan and his subordinates. Indeed, Sanemi might be the least amiable pillar, but he wasn’t a horrible person to be around. As long as you were mindful of his mood and not caused an unnecessary ruckus, Sanemi would treat you civilly.

Besides, he never really lashed out to you, anyway. Even when he was still in the Corps, and you happened to slip before his eyes, he would silently help you whilst muttering something about your clumsiness.

Overall, he was as aloof as he could be around females, and you delighted in that ‘mellow’ side of his.

Peeking through the doorway, you spied Sanemi in his usual spot on the porch and smiled slightly. It was relieving to see him become one with nature instead of wringing every last drop of stamina through incessant training. You slipped out and quietly kneeled beside him, respectful of the appropriate distance to avoid disturbing his restless equilibrium.

“Good afternoon, Shinazugawa-sama. Do you need something?” you asked cordially.

Sanemi merely stared forward as though he refused to acknowledge your presence, but you knew better. After the war, he had grown more sullen and distant to the point of ignoring the people around him, almost echoing Giyū himself. An inexplicable pang pervaded your body at the abject sight, and how it wouldn’t likely to change anytime soon.

It was a good thing you had experiences of housekeeping, otherwise, you might’ve incited his infamous ire with your callowness.

You shifted a little on your spot, dismissing his silence for rejection or dismissal. “Would you like a cup of tea? Or ohagi?” you pressed.

“… What’s your intention?”

Cocking your head, you hummed questioningly.

Sanemi slowly turned his head towards you, pale eyes attempting to discern your true motives.

“People don’t find me nice at all, and yet, you chose to work for me instead,” he explained, squinting slightly. Ah, so he did realize. “Are you pitying me?”

When you offered no response, he scoffed knowingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think I can’t take care of myself? Why do you think I chose a small house for me?” he huffed. “I don’t need help from anyone.”

“But you accepted me.” you murmured.

Sanemi snapped his head in your direction. “What the hell was that?!” he growled.

You flinched. “I... I just want you to know that I understand your feelings.”

“You fucking know nothing!”

Cold fear throbbed your heart and rendered you motionless. Sanemi gradually recomposed and withdrew from the abrupt proximity of his face with yours, instead opting to direct his ferocious glare to the fence again.

Looking down to your lap, you slowly exhaled the anxiety.

“My father… He was killed, too. He was on the way to home after chopping some woods when he met a demon in the forest. I was a baby at that time, and we were very poor. It wasn’t until my mother met Ubuyashiki-sama did she finally have a stable job to feed us both.”

The recollection softened your gaze as you traced patterns on the floorboard.

“You’re right, Shinazugawa-sama. I know almost nothing about you aside from the general stuff, and I’ll never know the depth of your feelings. I don’t even know other pillars very well, and we often chat. But the grief, the sadness you’re feeling… I felt it too, and I still do sometimes.”

You took a deep breath and blinked away the tears that leaked through your lashes.

“Regardless of your opinion, Shinazugawa-sama, I’ll continue to support you. I can’t fight, and I don’t know how to wield a sword properly, but I hope my assistance can be of any comfort for you. We don’t even have to converse if that’s what you want. Just treat me like you usually do and I promise I won’t disturb your affairs.”

Sanemi was quiet through your story and retained a similar state when you bowed to him.

“I shall buy some red beans in the market. Please, excuse me.”

The market was animated as always. Children frolicked around while their mothers were preoccupied with bargaining and buying necessities. After fulfilling the task at hand, you decided to replenish your energy by strolling and observing the village. The advantages of working for Sanemi was the relative ease in maintaining the house than Ubuyashiki estate, and Sanemi himself wasn’t at all bothered to find you resting after completing your duty.

Some extra time for yourself was always a blessing, and you were glad to know that you’d picked the right choice.

“Why you look at that; a fair maiden walking alone in the forest.”

You blinked out of your trance and spotted a group of rugged men intercepted the beaten path. Assessing the looming danger, you mentally cursed yourself for getting distracted and warily retreated.

The tallest man, who you presumed to be the leader, hummed mockingly. “Where are you going, dear? The sun’s about to set, you know? The demons will come soon, so why don’t you join us? We’re on the way home.”

“I know that.” you snapped, keeping a cagey eye in case one of them decide to strike first. “And no, thank you for the offer. My master’s waiting for me, so I need to go now.”

A whiff of body odor clogged your nose as he began to advance, deliberately cornering you against a tree. “Aw… Surely they won’t mind me if I borrow you for a sec, right?” he cooed, clasping your chin in his rough fingers.

“… Like hell, I will.”

The neck that moved his revolting face closer to yours suddenly broke. Sanemi landed a few meters from you, his back facing the man who collapsed right before your very eyes. The sword you’d seen him holding and polishing regularly despite not being a slayer anymore trembled with barely restrained passion, the tip glinting under the fading sun.

He raised his head and smirked diabolically. “So, which one of your fuckers wants to move first?” he challenged.

When nobody dared to step forward upon sensing the egregious bloodlust practically radiating from his form, he grinned.

“No one? Well, that’s just too easy.”

His abrupt disappearance sparked dread within everyone���s chests, yours included. Your eyes frantically darted from one tree to another, hoping to catch a glance. Where was he? Was he leaving you? No, no, that was impossible. Why did he even bother to kill their leader if he would just leave you later? Besides, as bad as his attitude could be, Sanemi wasn’t the type to leave things half-assed.

So, where was he–?

A faint breeze hit the man furthest away from you. Your jaw slacked when Sanemi manifested behind him and swiftly sliced his head clean. The next person wasn’t able to react fast enough before Sanemi dropped to one knee and killed him. Granted, he was comparably leaner than the rest of his ‘companions’, but the sight of your master effortlessly slit his abdomen was just… appalling.

How hideous would it be if he were to face demons? You couldn’t even grasp the extent of his raw strength.

Sanemi rose to his feet in a single twirl and stabbed another man on the heart whilst kicking the last one unconscious. The deplorable man crumpled once Sanemi yanked the sword from his chest, and you would’ve joined him too had the tree wasn’t there to support you.

For a split second, you were glad that the leader tried to corner you earlier.

Under the setting sun, Sanemi merely stood among the bodies, chest heaving and sword bloody. You gazed at his back, reluctant to speak yet felt an uncontrollable need to state the obvious.

“You killed them.”

Gripping your kimono, you continued. “Y-you do know that they’re humans, right? Not demons…”

His silence skyrocketed your nerves. Finally, after a minute that dragged on for eternity, he opened his mouth.

“Anyone who hurts us is demons in my eyes.”

You withdrew against the bark as though it would hide you from his vacant yet penetrating look.

“Do you understand? Some humans aren’t all that different than demons. There's no point in pitying them.”

Sanemi sheathed his sword and nonchalantly walked past you, ignoring your stunned silence. “Wipe that pathetic look off of your face and let’s go home,” he demanded.

“B-but what about–?”

“The demons will eat them. Now, hurry up if you don't want to be their next meal.”

With a heavy heart, you averted your gaze from the massacre before you and nodded obediently.

“Yes, Shinazugawa-sama.”

Above, the moon gradually erased any trace of light from the view.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT BUSINESS

This rule is left over from a time when algorithm meant something like the current Google? Why do patents play so small a role in software? Any hacker who looked at some complex device and realized that with a tiny tweak he could make it run more efficiently. In something that's out there, problems are alarming. It has for me. It may also help them to grasp what's special about your technology. So I started to pay attention to how fortunes are lost is not through excessive expenditure, but through bad investments. Fear the Right Things. Microsoft Word. But there are limits to how well they'll be able to hire better programmers, because they'll attract only those who cared enough to learn it.

4 million a month to the rapacious founder after two years? They just don't want to seem like they had to make concessions. Perhaps a better solution is to assume that anything you've made is far short of what it might have been. If no one else will defend you, you have to publish it, and that's just as bad as the mid seventies. Perhaps a better solution is to look at the problem from the other end. When a company starts fighting over IP, it's a sign they've lost the real battle, for users. Startups usually win by making something so great that people recommend it to their friends.1 You generally apply for a broader patent than you think you'll be granted, and the startups are mostly schleps. True, but I don't think publishers can learn much from software. So while they're often nice guys, they just can't help it.

And not just from the technical community in general; a lot of users. So if you're the least bit inclined to find an excuse to quit, there's always some disaster happening.2 This essay is derived from a talk at the 2006 Startup School. Patent trolls are hard to fight precisely because they create nothing. Economically, the print media and the music labels simply overlooking this opportunity? There's nothing special about physical embodiments of control systems that should make them patentable, and the examiners reply by throwing out some of your claims and granting others. You can't even drive the thing yet, but 83,000 people came to sit in the driver's seat and hold the steering wheel. Technology trains leave the station at regular intervals. Startup acquisitions are usually a lot of mistakes.3 Cross out that final S and you're describing their business model.

Nothing is more likely to buy you than sue you. Experts can implement, but they can't design. Before central governments were powerful enough to enforce order, rich people had private armies. But different things matter to different people, and it's unclear whether anyone could be. If nuclear winter really is here, it may be safer to be a contrarian to be correct, and by that point the innovation that generated it has already happened. The startups we've funded so far are pretty quick, but they don't understand software yet. Most successful startups make that tradeoff unconsciously.4 And for programmers the paradox is even more pronounced: the language to learn, if you love life, don't waste time, because time is what life is made of. We tell the startups we fund not to worry about it, because a toll has to be more than new. If you grow to the point where anyone considers you worth attacking, you're doing well. Viaweb.5 In middle school and high school, what the other kids think of you seems the most important quality is in a startup.

If you had a handful of 8 peanuts, or a shelf of 8 books to choose from, the quantity would definitely seem limited, no matter how obscure you are now. I don't really blame Amazon for applying for the patent, but that has historically been a distinct business from publishing. You can lose quite a lot in the brains department and it won't kill you unless you let them. So I advise fatalism. Both make sense here.6 Every couple days I slip and call it Viaweb.7 Actually, it's more often don't worry about this; worry about that instead. I don't think they hamper innovation much. This is a little depressing.8 VCs should be trying to fund more of. When attacked, you were supposed to fight back, and there is something grand about that. Patent trolls are companies consisting mainly of lawyers whose whole business is to accumulate patents and threaten to sue companies who actually make things.

A mere 15 weeks. The truth is more boring: the state of the economy doesn't matter much either way. Perhaps we can split the difference and say that mobility gives hackers the luxury of being principled. Viaweb, and became Yahoo's when they bought us. I now had to think about something I hadn't had to think about something I hadn't had to think about something I hadn't had to think about something I hadn't had to think about before: how not to lose it. The optimal ways to make money by creating wealth, not by suing people. I was leaving I offered it to him, as I've done countless times before in the same situation. To make money the way software companies do, publishers would have to become software companies, and being publishers gives them no particular head start in that domain. If companies stuck to their initial plans, Microsoft would be selling printed circuit boards. It's more like saying I'm not going to apply for patents just because everyone else does. We tend to say yes to the second, but no smarter than you; they're not as motivated, because Google is not going to go out of business if this one product fails; and even at Google they have a lot of bureaucracy to slow them down.

There are several reasons it pays to get version 1 done fast. 9% of the people who thought during the Bubble all I have to keep repeating.9 It's easy to let the days rush by. So why do so many people complain about software patents stifling innovation, but when one looks closely at the software business I know from experience whether patents encourage or discourage innovation, and the content was what they were selling, and the startups are mostly schleps. But the breakage seems to affect software less than most other fields. You can lose quite a lot in the brains department and it won't kill you. It's ok to be optimistic about what you can see people doing. And one of the earliest sites with enough clout to force customers to log in before they could buy something.10 It seems to me the only limit would be the number of startups is not the criteria they use but that they always tend to focus on the goal of getting lots of users. This principle is very powerful.11 The American way is to make money from it indirectly, or find ways to embody it in things people will pay for information otherwise?

So it is with hacking: the more rewarding some kind of job. Well, founders aren't much better. A copy of Time costs $5 for 58 pages, or 8. Even now I think if you asked hackers to free-associate about Amazon, the one to choose is your growth rate to compensate. Some examples will make this clear. You don't need to be constantly reminding yourself why you shouldn't wait. But while I'd spent a lot of regulations.

Notes

To get all that matters, just as well as problems that have been the plague of 1347; the point of a company. I'm writing about one specific, rather than admitting he preferred to call all our lies lies. College English Departments Come From? Startups are businesses; the point of a place to exchange views.

And the reason this works is that the most abstract ideas, because they were already lots of type II startup, but you get paid much. Back when students focused mainly on getting a job after college, they compete on tailfins. Google will pay the most important section.

If the company.

VCs seem to have balked at this, on the firm's site, they're nice to you; you're too early really means is you're getting the stats for occurrences of foo in the same town, unless the person who would make good angel investors. The best thing for founders; if their kids to them about. In theory you could probably be to write an essay about why something isn't the last place in the case, is deliberately intended to be significantly pickier.

Particularly since many causes of the 800 highest paid executives at large companies. Surely it's better and it will become less common for the average NBA player's salary during the war, tax rates were highest: 14. For example, would increase the size of the latter case, not because it's a proxy for revenue growth.

If near you doesn't mean easy, of course it was wiser for them by the Clayton Antitrust Act in 1914. This explains why such paintings are slightly more interesting than random marks would be more linear if all you have to admit there's no center to walk in with a degree that alarmed his family, that must mean you should prevent your investors from helping you to raise money succeeded, and how good they are to be about 50%. So far the only reason I say in principle is that it's no longer working to help a society generally is to how Henry Ford got started as a single VC investment that began with an online service.

I couldn't believe it, by doing another round that values the company, but half comes from. I say the rate of change in response to what you really need that recipe site or local event aggregator as much income.

The US News list tells us is what the rule of thumb, the reaction might be able to redistribute wealth successfully, because investors don't yet get what they're really saying is they want both. It was revoltingly familiar to slip back into it.

In a typical fund, half the companies that seem promising can usually get enough money from mediocre investors. So by agreeing to uncapped notes. Since most VCs aren't tech guys, the last thing you changed.

There is usually slow growth or excessive spending rather than trying to sell services than a nerdy founder trying to describe what's happening as merely not-too-demanding environment, but they hate hypertension.

The First Industrial Revolution, England was already the richest and most sophisticated city in the few cases where a great founder is being able to redistribute wealth successfully, because spam and legitimate mail volume both have distinct daily patterns.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Anton van Straaten, Robert Morris, Geoff Ralston, and Jessica Livingston for their feedback on these thoughts.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

FENRIR GREYBACK is THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OLD and a SOLDIER in THE DARK LORD’S ARMY at THE DEATH EATER HEADQUARTERS. He looks remarkably like PETER GADIOT and considers himself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. He is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death, murder

CALDER GREYBACK and KESARA GREYBACK were overjoyed when they had their first child, Fenrir. Named after a monstrous giant wolf from Norse mythology, a favourite subject of Calder’s, Fenrir was destined to become the monster he was. Fenrir was raised in a loving home, both parents making time for their child and showering him with affection. They lived in a small cottage in a wizarding village just outside of the Cotswolds. During his early childhood, he was a very timid child, barely speaking to anyone but his parents. Due to his shyness, Calder and Kesara constantly attempted to put Fenrir in social situations that often led to Fenrir being awkward around new people or simply asking to go home early due to his social anxiety. When Fenrir was five years old, his parents gave birth to HELLA GREYBACK, a beautiful baby girl. Fenrir became obsessed with his little sister, rarely leaving her side, even as they grew older together. His parents were surprised at how loving he was towards her and how she caused him to come out of his shell, especially around people who had come to see Hella. Fenrir was extremely protective over her and vowed that he’d rather die than let anything happen to her. The two of them would spend their days running through the fields, splashing in the rivers and talking to other wizarding children, in which Hella took the lead of course. The two siblings were happy with their lives and their parents were elated that the two got along well despite their age difference. 

When Fenrir was ten years old, a year before Hogwarts, their family went on a camping trip. It had been a sweltering summer but the campsite was now cool and beautiful as leaves began to turn yellow and orange. Fenrir and Hella would spend their days playing by the lake, Kesara keeping a close eye on them whilst Calder disappeared upstream to go fishing. It was the last day of their holiday when Hella and Fenrir decided to sneak away from their mother and attempt to follow their father upstream. It wasn’t long before the two became bored of tracking their father went off exploring, not taking note of where they were going or how to get back to their parents. A game of king and queen began and before they knew it, the sun was setting and they were lost. Scared, the two decided it was best to find the river and stay put until their father found them. As night stretched on and a full moon shone above them, the shivering siblings took refuge amongst some rocks, trying to keep each other warm. What first started out as distant howls, soon became a low growling noise. Hella and Fenrir hadn’t heard the wolf throughout their trip until that night and tried to make themselves as small as possible. It wasn’t long until the werewolf found them and Hella let out a blood curdling scream as the werewolf leapt at her. Fenrir, being the brother he was, jumped in front of the werewolf right before it could plant it’s jaws on his sister and the werewolf's teeth sank deep into Fenrir’s shoulder. A few moments later and their father appeared, casting curses at the werewolf and chasing it away, saving his children from a gory demise. 

Fenrir did not die from the bite to his parents' relief, but to their embarrassment, he had been infected with lycanthropy. His parents decided not to register him and keep it a secret. They did their best to help Fenrir every month, but their best method was to lock Fenrir in the basement with chains. This of course, upset Fenrir, causing him to feel like a wild animal, which he was during a full moon. Fenrir would always wake up with no memory of his transformation or the night before, leaving him to think that it could never have been that bad. A year later and Fenrir’s letter from Hogwarts arrived. He was excited to go and had been looking forward to it since he was eight. His parents however, were reluctant, worried what their son might do during a full moon. As a compromise, Calder and Kesara ordered a large batch of wolfsbane and instructed Fenrir to always find his way to the forbidden forest during a full moon or the consequences would be dire. Due to his parents' fear of his lycanthropy, Fenrir began to fear it himself, thinking that he was cursed. This of course, didn’t help his self esteem and once reaching Hogwarts and being sorted into Slytherin, he was quickly labeled as the weird and awkward kid. The bullying started immediately and Fenrir hated it. DOLORES UMBRIDGE was one of his biggest adversaries, she had managed to discover his wolfsbane stash and outed him as a werewolf to all the students, which only sent him deeper into self hatred. The disrespect and utter discrimination he received due to his lycanthropy was crippling to say the least. 

Whilst there were those that stood against him, he had a special select few who told him to stand up for himself. ADARIA LINWOOD would always show him tough love, teaching him to grow a thicker skin. His sister was always there for him at home and even more present when she found her place at Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw. She would always tell him that it wasn’t a curse, it was a blessing. His lycanthropy turned him into someone powerful, a chance for him to break out of his shell forever and become the leader she imagined him to be. With support from his friends and as he grew older he became more confident, more in control and more vicious towards those that stood against him. He began to spend countless hours learning about lycanthropy and how it affected other creatures and how one could infect others, effectively creating their own pack. A pack of other werewolves just like him, others that understood what it was like, others that would always have his back against those like Dolores Umbridge. The appeal of being in a pack didn’t only affect Fenrir, but seemed to persuade another younger student named STEPHEN WILCOX to come to Fenrir, asking if he could be turned, if he could be gifted with lycanthropy. Fenrir’s first reaction was that Stephen was crazy, why would he think it was a gift when it would only make his life harder, but the idea of having his own pack and the determination for revenge against those that shunned him changed his mind. On the next full moon, Fenrir bit Stephen in an attempt to turn him. It was Hella, who had gone off a feeling and had followed the two into the woods, that found Stephen’s dead body with Fenrir nowhere in sight.

The next day Fenrir was expelled from Hogwarts. He was distraught at the fact that he had killed someone and when he looked to his parents for support, they turned him away, telling him that he was no longer part of their family. His parents no longer saw him as an embarrassment, but rather as an endangerment to the rest of the world. Without his consent, they contacted the Ministry and reported him as a werewolf. It was how Hella reacted that really broke him. Hella, the light of his world and his rock had gone dark. She had officially turned her back on him. He was a monster that she could no longer love. At first he was destroyed, torn to shreds, unable to comprehend that his whole world has been unravelled in a matter of days due to a stupid mistake. He spent almost half a year wondering forests and making his way towards London, working on Muggle farms and stealing from campsites. It was during this all time low that rage began to fill him. Nightmares of his sister removing him from family pictures would wake him up in a sweat. If she really thought he was such a monster, he’d become exactly what she thought he was. It was at this murderous phase in his life that he met SELENA PETROSYAN. The two of them instantly clicked and she became his right-hand women as they began to build their own underground pack of werewolves, a pack that would one day rise to power against those that oppressed them. Fenrir began to attempt to turn sorcerers into werewolves, getting close to the families and attempting to turn them on the full moon. It was during this rampage that two Muggle murders, failed turnings, caught the attention of the Ministry and Fenrir was captured and brought in for questioning. 

It was during this questioning that Fenrir grasped just how much the Ministry and the wizarding community hated werewolves, LYALL LUPIN stating that all werewolves simply deserved to die. Due to his appearance and lack of wand during the trial, as well as the ill-managed werewolf registry not being updated to include his name, Fenrir was released and instantly sought out revenge. On the next full moon, he attacked the Lupin Family, biting REMUS LUPIN. Now Lyall would realise that werewolves were as equal as everyone else. Deciding that best option was to stay low for a while, he sent his pack underground whilst he spent his time attempting to satisfy his craving for more power. He began to look into dark magic, spells that would allow him to extract and retract his claws at will and potential transformation potions that would allow him to keep his fangs and turn others at any time, not just during a full moon. It was along this dark path that he met The Dark Lord. There was a discussion and a mutual understanding between the two. If Fenrir helped The Dark Lord convince werewolves to join his cause, the Dark Lord would creature a space for werewolves in his new regime. Whilst Fenrir knew that the pureblood would never accept his pack, he planned to go along with it before going rouge after they had won the war. It wasn’t long until he was introduced to BELLATRIX BLACK. Whilst other members of his pack such as Selena continued their mission, Fenrir’s attention was brought to another werewolf by the name of SILAS CRUMP who had begun to stir the wizarding world by being accused of killing the Minister for Magic’s son BOOKER BAGNOLD. With everyone keeping their eyes out for the fugitive Silas, Fenrir felt as if his whole plan was in danger and whilst Bellatrix and RABASTAN LESTRANGE continued to use Silas as a scapegoat, could Fenrir find a way to keep his pack out of the spotlight or would he need to find a way to handle the Silas problem himself?

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood (Werewolf)

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male 

Sexuality  → Up to Roleplayer

Relationship Status → Single 

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → The Greyback Wolves

Family → Calder Greyback (father), Kesara Greyback (mother), Hella Greyback (sister)

Connections  → Selena Petrosyan (best friend/potential love interest), Dolores Umbridge (adversary), Adaria Linwood (former friend/adversary), Remus Lupin (victim/adversary), Lyall Lupin (adversary), Silas Crump (adversary), Bellatrix Black (colleague) 

Future Information → N/A

FENRIR GREYBACK IS A LEVEL 7 WIZARD/WEREWOLF.

[hogwarts-riddle]

Eternalism: Chapter II

The trip back to Gryffindor Tower was just as rushed as the trip from. Hermione couldn’t help but glance back every now and then, halfway convinced that death eaters were going to appear out of nowhere. Deep down, she knew that she was most likely being paranoid as there had yet to be any real signs that the school was under attack. The warning bell would have surely gone off if it was.

While Professor Slughorn hurried her off to the Hospital Wing, which was where they had decided to prepare to send her off, Professor McGonagall went off to fetch Harry and Ron as per her request. She wasn’t about to leave them behind without at least saying goodbye.

If she was going to leave this time behind to correct Dumbledore’s mistake and save the world, she wanted to at least say goodbye to her best friends. Dumbledore had said it himself. She wouldn’t be coming back. And if, by some chance she did get to see them again, she would likely be old and grey.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them when they got there, looking rather worn and tired. It was almost as if the medi-witch had aged ten years since the last time she saw her. Clearly she too was suffering under the effects of the school’s lock-down.

“Is everything ready?” Pomfrey asked.

Slughorn nodded. “Minerva will be arriving soon with the time turner. She just went to collect a few things for Miss Granger.”

The nurse nodded her head, casting a sympathetic look at Hermione before moving past them into her office.

As Slughorn escorted her over to sit down on one of the beds, Hermione couldn’t help but note how his usually big rosy cheeks had lost all color, and how his eyes held a slightly haunted look to them. He was worried, and she honestly couldn’t blame him.

“You, my girl, might just be one of the bravest student’s I’ve ever known,” Slughorn broke the silence that had washed over them. “I don’t know many who would have been willing to take on such a task as this.”

She managed to give him a weak smile. Despite his propensity to show favoritism, she couldn’t say that he was a bad man. He certainly made a better Potions Master than Snape. Unlike Snape, he actually cared about the well being of his students.

“Do you really think I can do this? Do you think I can save Vol- er, Tom?”

Professor Slughorn got a far off look in his eyes, as if remembering something from a long time ago. No doubt it had something to do with Tom.

“I believe that there is hope for him, especially with you in his life,” he explained. “Tom never had any real friends. Those he surrounded himself with were only there because he was powerful and charismatic. He was good at getting what he wanted and they knew that.

“It might not be easy, but if anyone can save him, I reckon it’s you.”

She thought about her potions master and how he must feel. This was one of his favorite students, or so she had been told, that she was going back to try and save. And if it worked out as she hoped it would, she might be able to save Harry’s mother, Lily, as well. He too was counting on her to succeed.

“I’ll do my best for all our sake's, sir.”

He smiled over at her appreciatively.

They sat there, returning to a comfortable silence as they waited.

Just then, the door slammed open and in came Harry and Ron, followed shortly after by McGonagall. Scanning the room quickly, it didn’t take long for their eyes to find her and hurry towards her.

“Hermione!”

“Please tell us it’s not true,” Ron pleaded.

“Read for yourself,” Hermione told them, handing them the scroll.

The boys read through Dumbledore’s last words with increasingly widening eyes. By the time they were finished, they both looked as though they were ready to resurrect Dumbledore just to kill him again with their bare hands.

“He’s mad if he thought for one second that we were gonna let you go off and do this on your own,” Harry declared, his fists curling up into fists.

“I mean, it’s Voldemort for Merlin’s sake!” Ron exclaimed. “He’ll rip you to pieces as soon as he finds out you’re muggle-born!”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off before she could do so.

“How dare you dishonor Dumbledore’s noble sacrifice!” McGonagall snapped. “His greatest concern was the well-being and safety of everyone in this school! I highly doubt he would ask this if he thought we had any other choice.”

As much as Hermione wanted to take sides with McGonagall in defending the late headmaster, she found herself unable to do so. After everything that Dumbledore had put her and her friends through over the last six years, all for the so-called greater good, she couldn’t help but doubt the nobility of his actions.

“Come on Mione, surely you can see how dangerous this task is?”

She nodded her head. “I know exactly what it is he’s asking of me, and honestly, had it been just for his sake, I probably would have refused it, but think of all the good I could do if I succeed. All the lives I could save.”

She forced herself to look away, fearing that she might change her mind if she looked at their faces for even a minute longer.

“I’ve always wanted to make a difference, to make the wizarding world a better place for everyone. This is my chance to do that. Please, let me take the burden of saving the world off your shoulders for once, Harry.”

She waited for one of them to continue arguing with her, to make another excuse as to why she shouldn’t go. Moments passed yet no one spoke. She lifted her head back up just in time to see Harry step forward and pull her into a tight hug.

“You truly are the best friend I have ever had.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him back. It definitely made it a bit harder to go, knowing that she might never see him again, yet at the same time it also gave her a new source of determination. She had to go, not because anyone was forcing her to, but because people like Harry deserved more than what life in this broken war-torn world had given them.

Pulling away, he reached out to wipe away her tears with his fingers before he stepped back to Ron’s side.

“I’m going to miss you Hermione,” he said with a sad smile.

Meanwhile, Ron was staring at the two of them as if they were speaking some sort of foreign language. “Are you serious? You’re just going to let her go?”

He nodded his head, “It’s her choice.”

She couldn’t fight the tears that continued to come. “Thank you for understanding.”

With that out of the way, preparations for her journey began.

While McGonagall filled everyone in on what was going on outside of the castle and the death eaters that had been spotted marching towards the school, Madam Pomfrey returned from her office with a set of vintage looking children’s clothes and a letter, setting them down on the bed beside Hermione. Slughorn pulled out a vial filled with what looked like murky green water from the lake, handing it to her.

It was then that McGonagall stepped forward to explain the plan.

“The potion before you is something of an aging potion, rather with the opposite effect. With this potion, you will be aged back down to that of a child, around the age of ten we’re thinking.”

“Why would you turn her back into a child?” Ron interrupted. “Wouldn’t it be easier to save the world as she is?”

McGonagall glared at the red-headed boy, causing him to shrink back.

“I assure you, Mr. Weasley, we are doing this for a reason,” she told him before turning to face Hermione again, reaching into her pocket and holding up the silver time turner. “For you see, this time turner is set to place you just outside of Wool’s Orphanage in London on the date of June 15th, 1937.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her as to what they were planning. “You want me to meet Tom Riddle before he comes to Hogwarts?” she assumed.

McGonagall and Slughorn nodded their heads.

“The potion has been charmed to be more permanent, making it so that you will age alongside him,” Slughorn added.

She had to admit that it wasn’t a bad plan. The idea of meeting a child version of Voldemort was a lot less intimidating than meeting him as a sixteen-year-old, who had probably already made at least two horcruxes. Though, she couldn’t say that she was particularly eager to go through puberty a second time.

McGonagall explained a bit more. Once at Hogwarts, she was to try and remain as close to Tom as possible in the hopes that her friendship might be enough to lead him down a different path, hopefully a better one.

“Let’s get on with it then.”

Shooing the men away from the bed, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall put up dividers all around her bed as they urged her to undress before taking the potion. As grateful as she was for the dividers, she still felt rather embarrassed about stripping naked in front of the medi-witch and transfiguration professor. Though, she supposed that she had no real reason to be.

“I warn you, the transformation might hurt a bit,” Pomfrey warned her as she handed her the vial.

Shutting her eyes tight and pinching her nose, she brought the vial up to her lips and downed the murky liquid as fast as she could, willing herself not to think about it or the fact that it tasted vaguely like seaweed. After a few moments, she managed to swallow it down.

Madam Pomfrey plucked the vial from her grasp. “Brace yourself!”

No sooner had the medi-witch spoken, then she felt herself begin to change. Pain shot through her whole body, forcing her to collapse back onto the bed. Her bones felt as though they were slowly breaking apart one by one. Her skin felt as if it was on fire, melting clean off of her.

As her brain became overwhelmed by panic, she couldn’t think of anything to compare the sensation to. Only that it was ten times worse than the time she accidentally turned herself into a cat.

In her agony, she couldn’t help the scream that tore out of her lungs.

“Hermione!”

The two older witches had to hold her down as she thrashed about, clawing at her skin. They tried to comfort her as best they could, reassuring her that it would be over soon and apologizing for making her go through this in the first place.

Gradually the pain began to dullen to a manageable ache. Flooded by relief, she began to breathe deeply in and out to calm herself.

“It’s over now.” She felt the older witches release their hold on her.

She delayed in doing so for a few moments as she waited for the pain to pass completely, a feeling of numbness taking its place. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she slowly opened her eyes, starting with one and then the other.

The first thing she noticed was that both McGonagall and Pomfrey seemed to have grown. She was about to question it when she remembered the reason for the pain. Her eyes snapped down to look herself over.

To say that it was weird seeing her body reverted back to that of a child was… weird, to say the least. Her legs were short and not as slim as they were, same with her arms. The weirdest part was probably the fact that her breasts were gone. They had never been that big to begin with, but it was a bit frustrating as she had been just starting to get over her body insecurities.

Opening her mouth, she could feel that her two front teeth were back to being several sizes bigger than they ought to be. “I don't suppose you could…”

Madam Pomfrey nodded her head, understanding immediately what she meant. With a wave of her wand, she cast a shrinking spell on her teeth. It felt a bit weird, but not nearly as bad as the de-aging process itself. The next time she reached in to touch her teeth, she could feel that they were back to being the same size as all the others.

“Thank you,” she gave the medi-witch a small smile.

With a sigh, she got up and started to change into the child sized clothes she had been provided with; a pair of simple black buckle shoes, a pair of white socks and a floral print dress with a sash fastened around the waist and a bit of lace trim around the collar and sleeves.

Then McGonagall took on the seemingly impossible task of styling her hair. With some time and no small amount of effort, McGonagall managed to tame her wild curls, tying it back with a ribbon to keep it out of her face.

By the time she was handed a mirror to look herself over, she barely recognized herself. She looked like one of the old dolls she had as a child, which she supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The goal was to make her fit in with the time period, and as far as she could see, they had done a good job.

Pleased with her appearance, the dividers were pulled away, revealing her new appearance to the men waiting on the other side.

Slughorn smiled at her, nodding his head in approval while Harry and Ron just stood there staring at her with their mouths gaping open.

“Bloody hell…” Ron muttered.

She rolled her eyes at them. “It’s not polite to stare, you know.”

It took them a few moments to recover and shut their mouths, and even longer to find their tongue’s.

“You look great, Mione.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at Harry’s compliment. Even she had to admit that she wasn’t completely hideous. Although, it still felt rather weird for them to look so much taller and more grown up than her.

“Now, we shall go over the cover story we have come up with for you,” McGonagall said, carefully slipping the time turner around Hermione’s small neck. It was a bit big on her child sized body, but she didn’t worry about it too much. “Your name is still to be Hermione Granger and you are a muggle-born whose parents have recently died in a car accident. With no other family to take you in, your neighbours brought you to the orphanage and gave you this note to give to the Matron.”

Madam Pomfrey held the letter out to Hermione.

Reaching out, she took the letter and turned it over in her hands to examine it. It was written in an elegant spidery handwriting that she didn’t recognize. She assumed that it was Madam Pomfrey’s.

“Is that agreeable to you?”

Hermione nodded her head. It was simple enough, without deviating too far from the truth.

“You will not have your wand with you, so I would advise that you head straight towards the Orphanage upon your arrival, but before you do so, we must ask that you destroy the time turner. No one must know the truth of how you came to be in that time. From this moment forward you belong to that time. The future you come from will be no more.”

She gulped at that piece of information. Deep down she had known that would be the case all along, but now that she was hearing the exact words coming from McGonagall’s mouth, she couldn’t help but be hit by the full reality of it. This was not just some dream that she would be able to wake up from and find herself safe in the Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Ron. This was all too real.

Still, she was determined to go through with it. She had come too far to chicken out now. There was no turning back.

“I understand.”

Everyone stepped back to give her space as she took one last look at those with her.

She wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall would still be at Hogwarts the next time she entered it’s gates. The only one whose presence she knew for certain was Professor Slughorn, and of course, Dumbledore would be there as well. It wasn’t much, but it gave her a small amount of comfort to know that there would be a couple of familiar faces.

Then she turned to Harry and Ron, taking in every inch of their appearance as if to memorize what they looked like. They had been through a lot together and though she wouldn’t wish such dangers on anyone, she had to admit that it had created an unbreakable bond between the three of them. She would always remember how they risked their lives to save her from that Mountain Troll in first year and though she might never see them again, she vowed to keep them alive in her heart.

“I’ll miss you all… so much.”

With nothing left to do, she reached down and started the time turner, watching as it began to turn rapidly.

The world around her vanished into nothing as she felt herself being sucked into a void of nothing but empty blackness. It felt kind of like apparating and yet, at the same time it also felt kind of like that time when she had port-keyed to the Quidditch World Cup. Either way, it made her feel like she was going to throw up.

She was left floating in the empty void for what felt like an eternity before she felt herself being sucked back out and she soon felt her feet land once more on solid ground.

The next thing she knew, she was standing at the end of a darkened city street, a row of identical looking Victorian townhouses on either side of her, and standing straight ahead at the other end of the street was a tall imposing building with a sign above the gates that read ‘Wool’s Orphanage’.

She had made it…

[xfpurebloodaesthetics]

Mending the Break pt1

AU where Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges at the Wizengamot after the war, while Narcissa and Lucius are sentenced to house arrest for several years. He sees his mother, scarred and tired but determined. He sees his father, pale and barely a shadow of who he used to be, now having to use his cane as a means of mobility instead of a flashy ornament of wealth. He’s numb, barely hearing some of the boos and protests of the witnesses in the crowd, standing when gestured to do so, and following the Auror guards from the atrium, glancing to the side to only see Harry Potter nearby. The same Harry Potter who spoke in the Malfoys’ defense, one of the few who did so, looking older and wearier, scruffy almost, but green eyes still blazing with justice.

They say nothing. Only a moment passes, when they make eye contact. And then Draco turns away, and that is the end of it.

Within the Malfoy Manor, he’s haunted by everything he sees, haunted by the echoing screams of the poor souls who lost their lives within these very walls. So many innocent people, dead; men, women and children, oh god, the children will haunt him the most. Mere playthings for the Death Eaters, who broke their bones like it was a funny game; playthings for Bellatrix, who relished in their screams and pleas for mercy; playthings for Greyback, who bathed in their blood.

There is not one spot, he thinks, that hasn’t been touched by the cruelty of the war.

Until he finds it. One door that he has been aware of since he was a child, one he had been gently steered away and kept from, until it became instinct to avoid this door, though he has never, in all of his life, understood why. Today, he finds this door, and he discovers that it is unlocked. A Slytherin has plenty of curiosity, though it is rarely acted upon. Today, he acts upon it.

Beyond the door is a small study, like a shrine to the Black family on Narcissa’s side. He sees pictures of his maternal grandparents, so stiff and formal in their older clothes, their hard eyes, the set way about their jaws. He sees old family pictures of the Black sisters as they aged, though he avoided looking too closely at Bellatrix, who has a portrait hanging on a nearby wall. She’s twenty two in it, frozen forever in youth and haughty beauty, and her sneer nearly sends Draco into a panic attack. He has no regrets about grabbing a nearby sheet to throw over her face, to hide her from view, and only then does he find the chest.

It is quite an old chest, one that once held a charm that helped it blend into it’s surroundings, faded with time, and with an easily broken lock. Within the velvet interior are hundreds upon hundreds of letters to Andromeda, the one family member he never got to meet. He knows nothing of her, except that she married a Muggleborn man -- her husband, Ted Tonks, who died -- and thus was disowned as a result. Seeing all of these letters intrigues him, and when Draco digs into them, he finds that each of them were addressed and written by Narcissa, her graceful elegant scrawl as easily recognizable as his own name. 

Within these letters, sitting on the plush carpeted floor, Draco discovers that Narcissa never hated Andromeda. She rather admired her older sister, who married for love rather than wealth or power or alliances. Who was beautiful in a way that Bellatrix was not, soft in the ways that counted, and ever so effortlessly kind. How much Narcissa had missed her sister, how she wished to have her by her side again.

She also wrote about Draco, from the very night he was born -- ‘He has the most beautiful silver eyes, Andy, and the palest hair of pure snow. The Draco constellation shined the brightest tonight; I shall name him after such a worthy contender’ -- to even of his accomplishments during his life, from his first steps, to his first words, to the time he rode a broom by himself, to being Sorted into Slytherin. 

The letters trail off when Draco had to have been around fifteen, right before Voldemort returned, in fact. And he realizes why; if Voldemort had known, or if Bellatrix had suspected, then Narcissa would never have survived this war. Having love for a disgraced sibling was the same as treason in their eyes. 

The ideology broke apart so many families. And there was no hope of ever fixing what had been shattered.

Unless...

It is nearly six months before Draco works up the courage, to find Andromeda’s house. It’s a private, cozy looking dwelling, and he’s sweating so much he feels like he might melt into a puddle in the grass. But he steers himself, and walks to the front door, hesitating for a good long five minutes before he risks knocking.

Andromeda’s appearance is so similar to Bellatrix that he has to do a double take, but it is no doubt it is her. She’s much softer, much older now, and far prettier, than Bellatrix had ever been after Azkaban. And she is startled to see him, obviously with the knowledge of who he is, and suddenly Draco isn’t sure if this is a good idea.

“I... I know this is a shock,” he says, his voice brittle, quiet, subdued. “And I understand if you don’t ever want to see me again. But... I’ve brought letters. From my mother.”

“Letters?” Andromeda is surprised further. “We’ve had no contact since I married Ted.”

“Well, she wrote them, but she never sent them. She misses you a great deal, though she never says anything.” With shaky fingers, he pulls out the letters he had sifted through and selected as the most important, the ones he felt that she might appreciate. “You don’t have to take them, I just... I guess I thought...”

There’s a moment of silence, before her hand reaches out, and he flinches instinctively, prepared for a strike, for a hard blow. Her eyes pinch with pain, and her hand is warm against his face, so exceedingly gentle that it nearly takes his breath away.

“Would you like to come inside for tea?” she asks, and it feels like something in his chest loosens.

“I would like that very much.”

What starts out as a five minute meeting ends up lasting for several hours. Andromeda reads the letters as Draco sits with tea he can barely touch. She tells him stories, of her youth, of Narcissa when she was young and lovely and carefree, of a world where they thought things could be alright together. She introduces him to little Teddy Lupin, who’s hair turns a bright platinum blond to match his own, and Draco finally cries.

It’s been months since he’s cried.

The apologies come pouring out. Andromeda cries as well, but she promises him that she wishes Draco no ill will. “You were a child,” she says, “in the very heart of the storm. You shouldn’t be blamed for our ancestor’s mistakes.”

“I wanted to leave,” Draco admits to her. “I was questioning everything for years. I was too cowardly to fight. I’ll never forgive myself, for everything.”

“You must,” Andromeda replies, grasping his hands tightly in hers. “If you wish to heal, then you must begin by forgiving yourself.”

It’s the first time that Draco has ever felt safe with anyone, that he regrets it when it’s time to leave. After spending the day with Andromeda, learning of her, learning from her, bonding with little Teddy, he’s almost bitter, that he had been robbed of this. He will never know Nymphadora. He will never get the chance to beg forgiveness from Lupin. But through his relatives, perhaps he can finally mend the fracture between his families.

Perhaps this was what Draco was meant to do.

~End of Part 1

[reliciron]

Notes on Redeeming Arcann: Part 1

Ok, here are my thoughts on redeeming Arcann. This is just my own current analysis of his character and where I might take him in possible future fics. If someone has a different interpretation I would love to hear it as my own ideas on him continue to shift. If anyone is struggling with his character, I hope this might give you a starting point or jog some new ideas. And if you’re just reading this because you like character analysis (I do too), then I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too incoherent.

This first part will focus more on redeeming Arcann. The second will be my thoughts on his character motivations.

Part 2

Alright, this is going to be very, very long, so strap in. 

Ok, so since I don’t have a lot of experience writing, I felt my own grasp of what it takes to redeem a villain was a little too shaky to do Arcann’s redemption justice on my own. He’s admittedly a pretty horrific character at his worst, and the game itself really doesn’t do a very good job of giving him a believable redemption arc. I feel it would be very easy for an inexperienced writer like me to fall into character apologia and try to ignore what he’s done in favor of ‘it’s not his fault’. Fiction is full of men who act like jerks and excuse it with daddy issues, and I’m really trying to carry that awareness into his redemption so I can avoid that pitfall. The atrocities he committed were his choices, but understanding why he became a character who would make those choices does not mean that he wasn’t ultimately at fault for what he did.

So with that in mind I did a quick search, looked through a few guides on redemption, and eventually settled on this one.

In an effort to make this smooth, I have copy/pasted the major points from the article and put them in brackets with my responses following each one.

[Realism is derived from a multitude of factors, but one of the most important is having authentic motives. Villainy is a dark path for a reason – it’s hard to come back from – which is why you need a super-bright ‘why’ torch to help your baddie see the light.

The best way to create a ‘why’ (or a motive) is to understand where it comes from. For example:

Maybe your villain wants a bigger pay off and this is how he thinks he will get it

He could be taking an order from someone more powerful

A more emotional reason might be that the hero appeals to his heart by saving someone the villain cares about

Or perhaps the villain just wants to right a wrong or past mistake]

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Ok, so Arcann has a little of the last 2 of those reasons. Now that he’s gone through the Force Healing dishwasher, he wants to try and make up for all the horrible things he did (Mostly the people he killed for shits and giggles while hunting down the Outlander. War is war, and he might not beat himself up over the people he personally killed on the battlefield. They made the choice to be soldiers/Jedi/Sith, and they knew they might die when they went up against him.)

He was also swayed by the Outlander letting him and Senya go, and how they cared for her while he was figuring things out.

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[Whatever the plot point for justifying your villain’s redemption, you can create added depth to their motive by linking it to an old wound in his past.]

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His mother left, and it’s possible that he still wonders what would have happened if he and his siblings had gone with her (I can’t remember if he touched on this in one of his cut-scenes during KOTFE). But more importantly, no one has ever come back for him except his brother. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect Vaylin to care about him enough to help him unless it benefits her, so after Thexan’s death he feels like he’s alone and nobody would miss him if he died. And that’s… really not a good place to be.

He doesn’t feel connected to his people since I doubt he ever saw much of them while growing up, so it’s easier to treat them like dirt if he can’t empathize with them. Also, the closest person to him, and the only one he seems to care about, is Vaylin, and she’s even more messed up than him so they just echo each other’s cruelty and drive each other to new heights of awfulness.

So that’s why it’s so important to him and game changing that his mom shows up after he’s been defeated.

Now the scene in KotFE goes like this: Senya finds Arcann dead (unconscious) and pinned under a bunch of debris. She drags him out and cries because she thinks he’s dead. Then Vaylin shows up, and while Senya is focused on her, Arcann blinks awake. Vaylin starts to attack, and Arcann stops her. Blah blah blah, Senya saves Arcann because he tried to protect her and she “feels the good in him”.

Ok.

(Keep in mind, my computer chugs much worse if I have the background music on, so I always play with it off. So scenes that maaaaay be relying too much on the music to carry the emotional weight, don’t have that crutch to lean on when I see them.)

Putting aside some dumb stuff, like why didn’t Senya sense that he was alive, and why didn’t she “sense the good in him” until after he pushed Vaylin away, here’s a few tweaks I might make:

Senya finds Arcann badly injured and pinned under debris. She realizes that he’s still breathing so she drags him out, sits down, and cradles him in her arms. She fully expects that he’s going to die, and her resolve crumbles. She rocks him gently and sings to him, her voice breaking here and there as the ship comes apart around them. She left her children once, and she refuses to leave Arcann again. She’s going to stay with him until he succumbs to his wounds, or the ship disintegrates.

To her surprise, he begins to wake. He turns his head into her chest, instinctively remembering her voice and the way she’d sing when comforting him and his brother after a painful day of training. He opens his eyes blearily with a mumbled “Mother?”. And now, finally, after years of being apart, she senses the conflict in him. Buried under years of pain and rage, is the tiny flicker of the boy she used to know.

The ship shudders underneath them and she makes her choice.

She hauls him up and throws his remaining arm over her shoulders. He can barely support his own weight and is fading in and out of consciousness as she drags him off the dais. They’re almost to the door when Vaylin appears and cuts them off.

Senya pleads with her, but Vaylin refuses to see reason and moves to kill her. Senya tries to throw Arcann out of the way, but the minute his arm is clear he manages to force push Vaylin away, where she appears to be crushed under falling debris.

Senya can’t save both of them, but she didn’t feel any conflict in Vaylin. So she chooses Arcann and takes him to the shuttle.

After they’re far enough away, Vaylin comes to in a rage, only to find that she’s missed her chance. She too, escapes in a patrol vessel.

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[Epiphany Redemption

Sometimes we don’t realize we have bad habits until someone tells us or we suddenly become aware of them. One of the most famous epiphany redemption examples is Scrooge going through an awakening. With the help of the Christmas ghosts, he’s shown the impact of his actions which causes him to see that he’s been leading a terrible life. The end of the story show him as a changed man, being kind and charitable to others.]

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This sounds like what happened to Arcann.

It could be that with his mind clouded with pain and a likely concussion, he forgets his anger enough to think that, if his mother cared enough to save him and feels there’s still good in him, maybe there is.

It could be worked into the healing ritual, instead of this nebulous “light sapping the dark from him while he lays unconscious” thing. It could be that the ritual lifts all of his emotional baggage up so that he can view his past choices through a clear lens. Kind of A Christmas Carol speed-run, where his actions flash by in his mind and the horror of what he’d become slowly builds and replaces some of the rage. So the healing ritual doesn’t cure him of the darkness, so much as it’s a cold dose of the reality of his actions without the rage and bad justifications covering it up. The pain and rage is still there, and he’ll have to deal with it naturally later (get that boy a THERAPIST), but it no longer gets in the way of his decision making and he’s free to make better choices.

This explains why he was so panicked when he woke up that he didn’t notice his mother was still alive. And her “death” was just one more horrible thing he’s done. That even in healing, he still manages to kill the people close to him.

(It’s also why I always take the choice to tell him that Senya’s still alive right before he flies away, to spare him from that extra self hatred.)

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[It takes time. Just as a hero takes an entire novel to overcome her flaw, it will take some time for a villain to make this monumental change. Don’t let them flip-flop like a beached fish between good and evil – the change needs to build slowly throughout the book.]

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I think this is the main issue that a lot of people seem to have with Arcann’s redemption. The healing ritual was such a hand-wavy “ok he’s better now” cop-out for what would normally be months or years of interesting character development.

I understand of course. This is a game, not a book series. There isn’t time to give Arcann the kind of focus that sort of development needs, and they weren’t allowed to weave his redemption too much into the story because not everyone spares him.

We can lessen the impact of this by ignoring some canon things and writing around others, but it would take a major rewrite of a large chunk of KotET to integrate this point.

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[Foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow. Readers don’t like to be cheated. You need to drop breadcrumbs throughout your story to let your reader know subconsciously that the villain is going to change, otherwise they’ll feel cheated. It doesn’t take much – the occasional soft glance from the villain, a nicely spoken sentence, and action that is ‘good’ rather than evil. Tiny clues.]

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There were tiny hints here and there, but not really enough for my taste and they were very easy to miss.

Some examples I can think of are:

He sort of yells at Vaylin at one point and without her saying anything, he immediately backs off, calms his voice down, and tells her that he’s not blaming her. She’s flippant about it, but it made it clear that he cares about her enough to treat her with respect and what little affection he’s capable of at that point.

@swtorpadawan made a good point in this post about how Arcann’s hesitation in destroying the Gravestone might’ve been because he sensed his mother’s presence.

And while I don’t think it was supposed to be hesitation on Arcann’s part, just the game forgetting about the time as we are shown Koth lining up the shot, he technically DID hesitate in killing the Outlander after he stabbed them (assuming you refused Valkorian’s power). There was a decent length of time where he had them, mortally wounded and defenseless, and he hesitated so long that Koth discovered the scene, figured out a plan, and shot out that big thing on the ceiling.

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[Don’t make it easy. It’s hard for the hero to overcome her flaw and likewise, it should be hard for a villain to overcome his. A quick way to make it harder for the villain to redeem himself is to catch him between two of his values. For example, while this character isn’t a villain, it still illustrates the point: Ned Stark in Game of Thrones values loyalty and wisdom – his wisdom tells him if he helps his King it will inevitably lead to his death, and yet, his loyalty forces him to help the King anyways.]

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This one is closely tied to the “it takes time” point, and is also horribly ignored in the story. Once he’s healed he’s practically a different person. Now I don’t know if it’s because they didn’t devote much time to his writing since he’s an optional character, or if they meant to write him like this, but it’s still unfortunate.

He strikes me as determined and ruthless (like his mom). His interaction with Thexan and his commitment to the Outlander seems to imply that he’s loyal once he’s found someone worthy of it. He’s intelligent, but can be arrogant sometimes (of course this will have been knocked down a few pegs since the Outlander kicked his ass).

An easy point of conflict between his values (especially soon after he joins the Alliance), would be between his loyalty to the Outlander and his ruthlessness.

He could be on a mission with the Outlander, and have an enemy defeated but alive. The Outlander might want to spare them, while his ruthlessness demands their death. He knows how people like this work, that sparing them is a good way to get stabbed in the back, and if the Outlander is too softhearted to look out for themselves then he will.

BUT the Outlander is showing him trust by letting him accompany them, both trust that Arcann won’t kill them and that he will follow orders. Their trust is extremely precious to him (especially if he’s already crushing on the Outlander) so he really wants to do as they say.

He’s forced to balance their trust against his need to protect them.

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[Don’t let them go soft. Villains are villains for a reason. Keep them authentic by retaining some of their sharper personality edges. Just because their actions are good doesn’t mean the whole of them will be.]

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I feel like this one is especially important, and also terribly overlooked.

Arcann learned some bad habits while being a villain and even when growing up, some of those should carry over into his healed self.

They might lessen with time and careful retraining, but he will always have sharp edges.

He will probably have a temper (although this must be handled very carefully to avoid making him look childish and abusive).

And if someone he cares about is threatened he may fly into a rage until they can calm him down. This rage may be followed by flashbacks of the battles he’s been through and the way the hatred felt in his gut, leaving him panicked and shaky once it’s over.

He probably has nightmares regularly, and care must be taken in waking him up to avoid a violent response, same thing with sneaking up on him: DON”T.

Honestly, the dude went through so much and did so many horrible things that I don’t see how he wouldn’t have PTSD. He certainly has self-hatred up to his eyeballs.

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One more thing:

Once he’s joined the Alliance, I think we need to be careful when writing him to make sure that his goal of trying to make up for the horrible things he’s done isn’t overlooked. I mean yeah, he’s helping by coming along on missions with the Commander, but that is super small time stuff compared to what he’s done and I don’t think he’d be satisfied with it for long.

He’s an intelligent man with experience commanding armies on the battlefield, and an extremely talented Force-user. At minimum, and when not accompanying the Outlander, he should spend most of his day immersed in Alliance reports giving tactical advice (once they trust him enough, of course) and helping with combat training in the Force Enclave. When they trust him more, he can maybe become the official liaison between the Alliance and Zakuul, using the resources and tech of his home world to help the reconstruction on the planets he bombarded and getting Zakuul what they need as well.

Of course, once the Republic/Empire war starts up again, his position will change and he may take on a more military role, commanding offensives on behalf of whichever side the Alliance has picked.

My point is, wallowing in emotional hurt/comfort and developing romance is really fun and satisfying, but don’t forget his promise to atone for his misdeeds.

[bthump]

What is your favorite, most dark/twisted griffguts scenario/hc/au or whatever?

dark and twisted eh? lol this is a question and a half. advance warning for a mention of consent issues.

This is a fic idea I’ve considered writing but gave up on pretty quickly bc I didn’t think I could do it justice lol. And also I never finish anything and this is a novel’s worth of material.

AU where the behelit is an ordinary apostle behelit, and also Guts’ instead of Griffith’s. It opens at pretty much the exact same time, after the rescue, when Guts sees Griffith attempt suicide and it hits him that it’s all his fault. He destroyed Griffith and there’s no way to fix this, no one to kill to make it better, he threw away the only thing he’s ever wanted.

So the Raiders followed him down to the lake, Casca and the rest of the Hawks stayed behind, and the behelit opens. Guts ends up sacrificing the Raiders for ~the power to fix his mistake~ and becomes a monster with magic healing abilities. Because I figure that if you’re not sacrificing the person you actually love most, then you need to compensate with quantity lol, and after all the Raiders were the example, alongside Griffith, of “the place [Guts] belonged,” which should count for something.

So the result of this is you got Beast of Darkness Guts who is basically fixated on Griffith. You got a Griffith who spent a year of torture thinking about Guts and realizing he’s desperately in love with him and is thus fixated on Guts. He’s also fully healed and has a super powerful monster under his command so he’s obligated to go back to pursuing his dream in some form or another.

The situation is Griffith as an unstoppable warlord leading an army that grows and grows as dissatisfied peasants join him and others see the way the wind is blowing and join him to back the right horse, and strikes fear into the hearts of nobility until he eventually takes Midland by force (which is doable bc it’s weakened by a century long war and also an insane king). He’s embracing his “cruelty” and doing whatever it takes to attain his dream which means stuff like executing nobles and whatever to send a message and strike first with fear and intimidation. He’s more distanced from the Hawks than he was pre-torture. His image is scary and ruthless and powerful.

On the flipside he’s super traumatized and emotionally vulnerable, like lbr he’s got complex ptsd and he’s devastatingly emotionally reliant on an apostle boyfriend which in no way helps, not to mention the issues he already had pre-torture like guit and self-loathing. And the whole point is that contrast. Like Griffith ordering fortresses to be burnt and razed to the ground vs Griffith being unable to sit too close to a campfire because sometimes the radiating heat gives him panic attacks. Griffith fighting effectively at the head of an army vs Griffith losing his grasp on the present in the dark and forgetting he’s not in a torture chamber. Part of why Griffith is more removed from the Hawks now is to keep these vulnerabilities hidden.

And wrt Guts and ~dark and twisted~ griffguts content, Griffith commanding a literal monster in battle vs Griffith, eg, never once saying “no” to him in bed bc he’s low key afraid Guts wouldn’t stop, both due to his own trauma and Guts being monstery, and he’d rather just never let that situation come up. Like, loving and needing Guts but being afraid of him after the apostle transformation, and denying that fear to himself. And it could vary. Sometimes being with Guts would be perfect, everything he wants, emotional and physical fulfillment, and sometimes it would pretty much be a form of self-harm. Sometimes he would crave sex and sometimes it would trigger him. Sometimes everything at once. That kind of thing.

And like lbr we’ve seen his inner darkness, Guts as an apostle would be a nightmare. He wouldn’t care about anyone except Griffith, possibly to the point of low key being a threat to the rest of the Hawks, and he’d be extremely possessive and needy. I don’t think he’d be like, completely out of control like the armour makes him, but I feel like his judgement would be shot, his impulse control would be shot, he’d have way more casual asshole tendencies a la Black Swordsman Guts (or even his imo insufferable cockiness post-vacation). He’d still have that eagerness to please wrt Griffith tho, so he wouldn’t be completely beyond Griffith’s control. He’d obey orders, at least to the same extent he did as an ordinary human lol, and he wouldn’t do anything to threaten Griffith’s image, his control and leadership over the rest of the Hawks, like insubordination or w/e. He likes the idea of Griffith being feared, and of being the only one (give or take Casca, probably) to see the vulnerable side of him. And he likes the idea of Griffith needing him to achieve his dream as well as needing him emotionally.

Like, in chapter 71 Guts basically realized that his desire to become Griffith’s equal by finding a dream of his own was stupid and doomed from the start, so I don’t think Griffith pursuing his dream again while he has no goals himself would bother him because now he knows how important he is to Griffith. And also I imagine post-torture Griffith would be willing and able to tell him that he values him over the dream. Even shares that it feels like an obligation to him. Like after that torture chamber monologue it’s easy to see him being more emotionally forthcoming with Guts, more revealing, more self-aware, at least in some ways.

They would both relish the sheer intensity of the others’ feelings for him, but Griffith would be afraid of his own feelings, how vulnerable they make him, and he’d be afraid of Guts’ literal monstrosity, both rationally because he’s a big undefeatable obsessive monster, and irrationally because apostles instill instinctive fear in humans. (That instinctive fear as symbolic of Griffith’s intense life-ruining feelings esp post-torture might be interesting tbh.) Guts would be afraid of Griffith hating him or growing indifferent, but as an apostle that would manifest in clinginess and possessiveness and a constant craving for proof of Griffith’s feelings. And for Griffith’s part he could take advantage of that in manipulative ways. Like I love the idea of an intense toxic relationship where the life-ruining feelings between them are occasionally weaponized by both.

Oh and you also got Griffith’s self loathing and guilt, and the knowledge that Guts became a monster entirely because of him, to help him, plus he rescued and healed him, and so he’d also be torn between feeling like he doesn’t deserve Guts, and feeling like he deserves Guts but in a penitent way, esp if he feels responsible for his monsterism, which he would whether that’s rational or not. Plus also feeling like Guts, as a monster who sacrificed a bunch of his friends to become one and now wreaks havoc in battle, is the only person who can understand him. “Do you think I’m cruel?” “What kind of question is that for the guy who killed a hundred men?” writ large. All the emotional dysfunctionality implied in that exchange taken to 100.

Griffith getting more ruthless and fucked up and taking comfort in a fucked up relationship with a literal monster as he pursues his dream. “You’re rough enough to share this with to the end.” Griffith in part relishing Guts’ monstrosity because it means they’re in this together. They’ll be together because who else would want them? Like a dark contrast to a happy Golden Age AU where Guts tells Griffith how he really sees him and it’s a step towards emotional healing and self love and whatever, this would be Griffith hating himself and being comforted by the thought that Guts is down in the dark with him. Dragging each other down instead of lifting each other up, yk.

(Guts tells Griffith he doesn’t regret it. This applies to both becoming a monster for Griffith’s sake, and leaving in the first place and all the destruction that caused, since it eventually led to both of them getting everything they’ve ever wanted. A kingdom, the Hawks, each other, everything worked out perfectly. Right?)

Also you have Casca and the rest of the Hawks for that excellent outsider/disturbed onlooker pov. Casca’s got her close relationship with both as well as her protectiveness of Griffith. Judeau’s got his detached perceptive observation. Corkus has his outrage and resentment. All good potential perspectives on this imo. Like eg imagine Corkus sowing discord by pointing out that they have no reason to trust Guts esp now that he’s a literal monster since he’s not even a Hawk after abandoning them, and they can’t even trust Griffith to keep him in line because lbr Griffith already fucked them all over once because of Guts.

Idk how it would end though. Something fucked up. Like say Griffith achieves the dream, settles into ruling, the realization that he only hates himself more than ever eventually creeps up on him, and he ends up goading Guts into killing him, like an impulsive and somewhat subconscious act of suicide. Guts becomes Zodd 2.0, wandering battlefields, looking for someone strong enough to take him out. Or maybe just living miserably ever after as Griff sets his sights on an empire (bc he can’t stop, bc as soon as he stops that’s akin to declaring that this end is worth all the deaths and pain and etc on the road to it, and nothing’s actually worth that, so he’s trapped and it sucks) would be a nice anticlimactic ending. Yk, something depressing.

Like overall it would be a giant trainwreck with extreme contrasts wrt power dynamics and emotions, which is basically my favourite kind of thing. Like there are definitely way more straightfoward ways to get dark and edgy griffguts lmao, like about a million post-Eclipse scenarios, but still it’s probably my favourite of the darker ideas I’ve had.

I just love the idea of post-torture Griffith + apostle Guts lol they’d be like the epitome of dysfunctional yet inseparable, and it’s a great starting point for compounding all of Griffith’s canon issues and exploring them.

[hearteyesmotherclucker]

Common Enemy

(Part 2)

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: cruciartus curse

Summary: Theseus x reader. Continuing story where the reader and Theseus get swept up in a duel with dark wizards and Theseus is terrified for reader’s life. This turned out so much more angsty than I was planning but I don’t regret it at all.

A/n: sorry it took this long, I don’t really have a good excuse! Let me know what you think!

———————//———————

Four days passed, and both you and the aurors took no time off. You actually worked harder than ever to find Grindelwald. You stayed in Paris for two of those days and looked for any new information, but nothing. He was gone.

When you returned to England, you worked more closely with Theseus than anyone. Without the man with the scar, you were working much harder than normal.

“Y/n, if you keep up this detective work, we might just have to hire you,” Theseus said with a twinkle in his eye.

You internally smiled. “Well, I’m out of a job now because of you, so I wouldn’t mind it,” you replied.

He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Well, since you’re a ‘dangerous criminal’, the most you could be is a consultant. It could work, though. I’ll talk to McLaird about it, hmm?”

Two weeks later, you were working full time as a consultant to the aurors. You still had to get used to the whole “legal” bit, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Just then, Mustache rushed in, trying to catch his breath while holding up a file in his hand.

“Theseus, we have a case,” he said between pants. You bit back a comment about exercise.

Without a word, Theseus took the file and read it over carefully.

“What is it?” You ask.

The worried look on his face rubbed off on you.

He gave you a grim smile. “It’s more of Grindelwald’s followers. They’ve been spotted in London, near Diagon Alley.”

Okay, bad news. But, at least you were still working with the team, you thought frugally.

You investigated and tracked them down over the next two weeks, staying late at the office and eating vending machine food, but Theseus’s encouragement kept the small team going.

Tonight, you were exhausted as you clambered into the elevator. Just as the doors were about to close, Theseus slid in and threw an excited smile your way.

“What? Proud of yourself, Salamander?” You called him that to get on his nerves, but, sadly, he was used to it now.

He chuckled. “‘Course. And I have a hunch. You know Carrow works at Borgin and Burke’s, so I thought we could check it out tonight. Just us, I don’t know if it’s anything solid, so we don’t need any backup, but it’s worth a look, huh?”

You nodded. “What’s the hunch? You don’t think he’s hiding Grindelwald—?”

He shook his head. “No, I just think that could be a place they would meet or pass information. Worth a look.”

You nodded again, and the two of you exited the elevator and apparated to Knockturn Alley.

As soon as your feet hit the ground, you knew you made a mistake. There were already flashes of curses and hexes thrown about you. You had apparated into the middle of a small war.

Theseus seized your hand and pulled you into the nearest alleyway. You were pressed up against each other, his arm protectively over you, both of you breathing hard.

You barely noticed his rapid heart rate as you glanced around the corner to see Carrow and three others you couldn’t see — a Malfoy maybe?— dueling like their lives depended on it, and judging by the green flashes, they did.

You turned back and glanced up at Theseus, whose eyes locked with yours for a moment and an unspoken conversation between you told you he was about to do something reckless.

He almost left when you regained your senses and pulled him back to you.

“Theseus, absolutely not—,” you started.

“Y/n,” he began, searching your eyes for a moment. “Y/n, this may be our only chance. One of them definitely knows something—“

“Is it worth dying for?” You whispered angrily. “Because we can find him another way!”

“Can we? We’ve been searching for weeks without a scrap of news! This could be the break we needed ,” he said desperately, as if he needed you to understand.

In the seconds that you faltered, he was gone. You heard shouting and more curses filled the air. You shot a spell for backup before running after Theseus.

“Hey, Scamander! If we die tonight,” you started, while dodging spells and curses, “I’ll kill you.”

You saw him laugh, still focused on his duel, and that’s when you saw him.

“Krafft,” you muttered under your breath. Your blood boiled and you didn’t stop to think what kind of spells you were using. You just wanted him to pay for what he did. You shot every spell you could think of at him as he fired back with the worst curses he could.

You got closer with every spell you shot until finally you were just feet away. Anger overwhelmed your senses, and before you completely registered what you were doing, you punched him. Hard.

Krafft stumbled backwards a fell to the ground, holding a newly broken nose. You felt a satisfied smirk creep onto your face until you saw Theseus barely dodge a green flash- barely an inch from his face. And in that brief moment of distraction, you were hit.

Pain. It filled your whole body as if it were being stabbed by red-hot knives. A long, heart-stopping scream filled the air, and after a moment, you realized it was you.

Distantly, you heard someone shout your name, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the pain that flowed through you with no end in sight.

After what seemed like forever, it stopped and you were dragged to your feet and used as a human shield by Carrow.

“Alright, Mister Auror, wand down and she lives. Fair trade, innit?” Croaked Carrow.

You could see his internal struggle, and you nodded your head just the tiniest bit, as if to say ‘It’s okay,’ but you saw his wand lower anyway.

“That’s it, Mister Auror. Nice and easy. Now toss it. Good. Crucio!”

Once again, a horrible pain filled your body and you could no longer stand.

“Stop! No! Stop, please!” Theseus begged. “What do you want? I-“ he took a shaky breath. “Think about what you’re doing, Carrow. You won’t get away with this!”

You heard the desperation in his voice, and it scared you more than Carrow ever could. You’ve never heard him like this before.

Suddenly, more aurors appeared and spells flashed through the air. Carrow dropped you, and you found your wand a few feet away.

You fired spells at them, especially Carrow and Krafft, as fiercely as you could, and finally, the fighting died down as the two of the four men were apprehended. Carrow and Krafft escaped, to your dismay.

Exhaustion took over you and you collapsed on a nearby box filled with who-knows-what, running your hand over your face and leaning on the dingy wall behind you.

You were almost asleep when you heard Theseus approach you. He knelt down beside you and grasped your hands.

He spoke in the softest voice you’ve ever heard. “Y/n? Are you alright?”

You opened an eye and side glanced him. “Never better,” you said sarcastically.

His searching gaze made you feel like you were under a microscope, as if he were trying to see under the mask you always wore.

He conjured a small chair and sat in it, putting a comforting arm over you. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, y/n. But... who was that man? It looked a little personal back there.” This was more of a statement than anything, but you nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Krafft is his name,” you told him, “and he killed my brother.”

-

Tag: @marauderette130

(Message or comment for a tag and find parts 1, 3, and 4 in my profile)