#she saw the shadows of the birds flying around outside on the wall

[tiskycat]

Just watched my cat speedrun the allegory of the cave

[jazminrhode1]

Chapter 1: Conscription Day

The trials are physical but, the challenge is mental. Your father once told me the only weakness he couldn’t tolerate was arrogance—stay humble, stay sharp. And always remember: survive first, excel second.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

The relics on her arm could have parted the sea of civilians that lined up at Basgiath War College on Conscription Day. She resented those who were here by choice and feared for the lives of those who weren’t. 

Thana Valeran adjusted her fighting leathers for the hundredth time since arriving that morning. They were allowed to take whatever they wanted across the parapet and she came prepared. She had more knives than the King’s Armoury and her father had trained her on how to use each and every one.

Thana scanned the sea of people milling around the courtyard, her heart tightening at the thought of Liam. She hadn’t seen him in years and the letters back and forth just weren’t the same. He had been there for her through everything until... 

She let out a deep exhale. The very institution she stood before now had a lot to answer for. 

Since her father’s death, Thana had been trapped inside the dark halls of her mind—waking from one nightmare only to live through another, training because Garrick told her to—begged her to—repeating the cycle over and over again. If Thana was going to die, it wouldn’t be in combat. She knew she would lose her mind first, just like her mother had.

The sculptured dragons that sat atop Basgiath’s stone walls loomed overhead as she waited, her eyes flicking nervously toward the entrance. Recruits were already being funnelled toward the infamous parapet—the narrow, death-defying bridge that separated the weak from the strong. From the dead. She passed the distant shrieking off as birds flying through the ravine below the ridgeline.

“Where is he?” she muttered under her breath. The crowd was thinning. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard.

And then she saw him.

Liam.

He was taller and broader, but it was him. His jaw was set in that same determined way she remembered, his eyes scanning the crowd with a soldier's precision. When his gaze found hers, it flickered. They stared at each other. Her momentary relief quickly gave way to the fear of losing him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, resisting the urge to sprint to him, to throw her arms around him and prove to herself that he was real—that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, but she couldn’t. Not here. Not yet. Instead, she met his gaze with a sturn nod, and slowly, cautiously, they walked toward each other.

Without a word, they passed through the entrance to the citadel and joined the line of people climbing the steep steps towards the parapet. Thana's heartbeat hammered in her ears. She glanced at Liam, who moved with unmatched confidence. Sensing her nerves, he offered a reassuring wink.

They reached the top of the staircase, the wind whipping at her long dark hair, sending a shiver down her spine. Xaden was there, standing at the edge like a sentinel, his cold eyes sweeping over the recruits. He was calling them one by one, sending them across the deadly bridge, their fates hanging in the balance.

Garrick was by his side, scratching names into the ledger, his usual humour absent. His face was hard, focused as if he hadn’t known her since they were children. It was as if the boy who had once shown her how to throw a dagger, or gently carried a cockroach outside instead of crushing it, had been transformed into this hardened lieutenant.

Thana’s eyes landed on a small, silver-haired girl—Violet Sorrengail—standing near Rhiannon, the same girl who had asked for directions that morning before chattering her ear off. Rage surged through her veins at the sight. Violet’s mother was the reason her father was dead, the cause of her being orphaned. And Rhiannon? Just another pretty face standing in her way. If the Gods had any sense of justice, they’d both fall.

“Next!” Xaden’s voice cut through the wind.

Her heart stopped for a second. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her eyes locking with his. For a fleeting moment, something passed between them. 

“Don’t die,” Xaden said, his voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a taunt.

Thana clenched her jaw, shoving the emotion aside. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, especially after he’d stopped writing to her without an explanation.

Garrick scribbled her name into the ledger and pressed something into her hand. A ring. His ring. The one her father had given him before… “For luck,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"See you on the other side," Liam's voice trailed from behind, but she couldn't bring herself to glance back.

Then she standing alone, facing the narrow bridge that could spell her death with one wrong step. She heard Liam’s name being called behind her, but her focus was solely on the path ahead. One step at a time. She wasn’t going to fall.

The wind howled, the stone beneath her feet feeling more treacherous with each step, but she pressed forward. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, louder than the rushing wind, louder than the jeers from the crowd.

She was halfway across when the boy in front of her lost his footing and fell into the ravine. She remembered what Xaden had written in one of his letters: The trials are physical but, the challenge is mental.

She knew Roman Halt; they had been friends since they were small, and she wondered if his brother was waiting for him on the other side. Thana shook her head to clear the thought and kept going, purposefully striding past the spot where he'd slipped, refusing to succumb to the temptation of looking down.

She wanted to turn around. She wanted to make sure that Liam was still behind her. She wanted Garrick to cross this death trap with her like he did when they would train on the parapet at Riorson House. She wanted to know what Xaden was thinking behind the darkness in his eyes. She wanted her father close like she did when she was a child that woke up from a  nightmare. Or, she wanted to be condemned to Malek alongside him. She wished that she was doing this by choice and that her fate wasn’t in the hands of Lilith Sorrengail. She wished that this was not her life.

After what felt like an eternity, she was across. Alive.

Liam was right behind her. The moment his boots touched the stone of the Rider’s Quadrant, he grabbed her arm, pulling her behind a nearby pillar and into a dark hallway. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her tightly trying desperately to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, grabbing her face in his hands, and scanning her face and body for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice shaking as she gripped onto his forearms, staring at him in disbelief.

They clung to each other, both asking the same question over and over again, neither caring about the answer, just relieved to be here. Together. Finally.

Finally the hollow pit in her chest began to close over. For so long, she had felt as though she was falling from the parapet into the ravine, denied even the mercy of an end. Just the unrelenting sensation of freefall—her stomach lodged in her throat, danger always looming ahead.

As the Basgiath bells began to toll, echoing from the main building like a harbinger of the chaos to come, Liam and Thana emerged back into the courtyard. The number of cadets had grown significantly and a hush fell over the crowd. Xaden strode in behind them, flanked by Garrick, who looked less tense than before, an air of calm and arrogance radiating from him. She locked eyes with Xaden, who offered her a curt nod of approval before averting his gaze.

There was something about the wingleader’s arrogance—the deliberate way he gave her just enough to keep her wanting more—that stirred up something inside her, something that had long laid dormant. Xaden was always infuriatingly handsome, an irresistible blend of confidence and dark allure that  sent her pulse racing, no matter how hard she tried to resist.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today,” Commandant Pancheck announced, his voice dripping with an unsettling authority that sent chills down Thana’s spine. She didn’t like the way he looked at them like they were mere pawns in his fucked up little game.

“You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts,” he continued. Thana’s first instinct was to kill Violet Sorrengial. She didn’t care what happened to her after that.

“If you survive to threshing and you are chosen, only then you will become riders.” His words hung in the air, a promise that felt like a curse. The tension in the courtyard thickened as the crowd shifted, it almost felt like the oxygen was stripped from the air and Thana found it hard to breathe.

“I’ll leave you with your wing leaders,” Pancheck concluded, his smirk unsettling. “My best advice: don’t die.”

The cadets shifted as some girl named Nyra stepped forward, commanding their attention. “Cadets, when your name is called, take up formation behind your squad leader.”

Thana was relieved when her name was called and she found herself in the tail section, second squad, fourth wing. She was with Liam and separated from Sorrengail. She couldn’t help but think Xaden had something to do with that.

“Listen closely,” Xaden said, stepping forward with an intensity that silenced the crowd. “You are all cadets now. Take a look at your squads. They are the only people guaranteed by codex not to kill you. Just because they can't, doesn’t mean others won’t. Want a dragon? Fucking earn one.”

Did Xaden say without saying anything that he wanted Violet dead, too?

The sound of wings beating the air into submission disrupted the silence, drawing every gaze upward. Massive dragons landed on the outer walls, their wings stretching wide, shadows engulfing the courtyard. Thana’s heart raced as a cadet from the third wing made a reckless dash for freedom, only to be caught mid-flight, his screams piercing through the wind before being silenced. 

Among the dragons, one stood out to Thana—a dark blue creature, not the largest but infinitely more intimidating. Scars covered its body and it had one marked slash across its left eye. The dragon’s gaze locked onto Thana, and she felt a jolt as if their minds touched. She could almost hear its breathing in her head, a rumble that resonated deep within her. 

Before she could take a step forward to get a better look at the dragons on the ledge, Liam’s hand gripped her arm, pulling her back. Xaden’s breath hitched at the sight, and their eyes met—Thana’s confusion clashing against the fear she saw reflected in Xaden’s eyes.

[lulucifer-s-husband]

Stardust

7th june 2001.

A kid was brought in a grey world,

Among a already damaged family.

All they saw was desaturated.

All they heard was muffled.

All they tasted was bland.

That kid cried at night, begging,

That is there was a god, a star,

Anyone up there,

That it would hear their plea.

The moon looked down at the kid.

The silver lady talked in a soothing

Voice :

"Don't be scared my child, I sadly do

Not have arms to rock you, but I will

Always be somewhere up there in

The sky, so if you ever feel sad or lost,

Just look up, and you will see that

I am never far from you."

The kid asked if she could change

Their life into a better one,

The moon answered in a sad voice:

"Honey, you are the only one able to

write your own book, all I can do, is

watch over you, and give you a

blessing from the stars."

The kid wasn't afraid of the dark or

The night, as he knew the shadow

Were protective, and that the silver

Lady up there, was always watching.

She was hearing every cry , or silent

Scream from the child.

Soon, the moon reminded this kid that,

Like everything in this word,

They originated from star dust.

If they look up the sky, they can see

A big family, watching over them,

Loving them unconditionally.

The child quickly understood that like

The stars, they had something magical

Within them.

A sparkle.

A tiny sparkle.

They couldn't change the world outside yet,

Their little hands were way too tiny for that,

But they sure could change the one

Within them.

They decided from there, that they will paint their world of colors that doesn't exist, would sing notes that were never heard, and smell flowers that none ever laid a finger or a sight on.

During one of these day, locked up into their cage, not even a golden one  but a rusted one, the kid was watching TV.

They looked at the blue blurr, saving worlds and facing any threat with the same arrogant smile.

They craved for a similar freedom, so they simply closed their eyes, and since couldn't get that freedom outside, they were going to get it inside.

Inside them.

Then in a simple motion, was painting on the grey wall around them, beautiful scenery, the sky was full of dragons flying away in the distance.

The sun was gently shining on their skin,

And they were dancing with the wind and their illusions.

Some would have called them dellusional or crazy, they called themselve creative.

The kid was forgetting their sad and poor life, to become a princess , or a knight, or a peaceful fox living in the forest.

They were abandoning themselves to their illusions, gifting themselves what nobody ever gave them.

They were creating loving and caring illusions , they were crafting friends, love and adventure.

Now, as they cry in the night, they also

Cry in the arms of their illusions.

They never sleep alone,

Nobody is there to rock them,

So they will let the wind in their heart do it.

Nobody is reading them stories,

So they will live them within a far away, inner wonderland.

Nobody was telling them they mattered, so they would build illusions that would love them.

On the balcony of their rusted cage, they would sing to the sunset how much they wished they were a bird, so they could fly, fly far away from this hell.

Their song was almost begging the sun to take them with him, as he was disappearing in the horizon.

They would sing their pain, to the sun, to the moon and stars, mornings and evenings.

They would pray for a better future,

They would pray for some peace.

They didn't had faith in any god,

They didn't had faith in anyone,

Except maybe, ironically,

Themselves.

They knew they were a warrior.

They would survive all of these storms,

They didn't wanted to live a tragedy ,

But a fairy tail, with a happy ending.

They wanted to survive all of that,

So one day the adult they would become,

Could look back at it, and be proud.

They promised themselves that even when their heart would be filled with hatred toward this world and humanity, deep inside they would never forget how beautiful life was.

How flowers smelled wonderful,

How sunrises looked soothing,

How cat's furr was soft,

How water was refreshing,

And how the starrysky was looking after them.

They would curse the whole world and beyond, and yet, still have faith in the futur.

This was delusional.

But this kept them going throught any storms.

So today, the little kid that survived into the adult they became, carry this so called dellusion, this hopeless hope, this crave for living, and thanks all of these illusions and dellusion for keeping them safe all these years.

And the adult they became, is now very proud of them, and thankful for all they kept safe within them.

They promise they will parent this little kid, they will give them the love they never got, and the safety they never felt.

-09/08/22 a love letter to the child I used to be.

[robertamazzi]

Ten years of ignorance and a hundred years of heart

The cloud lay face down on horseback, hands and feet hanging in midair, and the panic of unreliability made her scratch and kick and shout desperately. The wind whistled past her ears, her cheeks hurt, her chest was out of breath, her ribs were almost broken, and her whole body was numb. Just as she almost fainted, Chu Xifeng pulled her up with one hand and snorted coldly, "Sit down!" Tighten the reins in his hands, the lion ran faster, and the rocky forest retreated, only to see a faint shadow. I don't know how long I've been running, but the terrain is getting narrower and narrower. As far as the eye could see, the mountains were winding and undulatinat first, but then he realized something was wrong and touched her fingertips. It was cold and there was no heat at all. Then he remembered that Dongfang said she was weak and afraid of the cold. Thinking of her as a woman with low martial arts, she naturally could not stand the humidity on the mountain, so she took off her coat and threw it on her head. The cloud pulled his hands at random, showed his head, wrapped it tightly,x70 line pipe, and said in a white breath, "Thank you." Chu Xifeng threw a bottle of medicine to her. She held it in her hand and studied it for a long time without eating it. "Don't worry, it's not poison," he snorted. If I want to kill you, do I need to poison you? She says: "Know, this is the east gives you, wait to endure not to live to eat again." This medicine was specially prepared for her by Sai Hua Tuo. When the cold attacks, it can be temporarily suppressed. Dongfang said that the medicine was poisonous and could not cure the symptoms. Unless he had to, he did not let her eat it at ordinary times and kept it all the time. The further you go, the steeper the mountain is. There is almost no way to go. The lion can't even pass through. Looking up, the cliffs on both sides are like two hands together,uns s32750 sheet, forming a line of sky, and the light leaks in from the gap of the hands, which makes the lower part more deep and narrow, quiet as ghosts. This is really a place where people can't reach and birds can't fly. Two people dismount, Chu Xifeng let the lion Cong turn around and leave, holding the cloud in one hand and climbing the vines on the rocks in the other hand, "rubbing" to climb up, like an ape, extremely flexible. The cloud pulled his sleeve tightly, only to feel the blood of his whole body rushing into his brain, his chest was stuffy and painful, and he could not help gasping for breath. The more you go up, the heavier the cold is, and the more uncomfortable it is. Chu Xifeng climbed to a stone wall and stopped, took a breath and kicked his feet, holding the cloud in his arms and rolling in from the branches of a pine tree. It turned out to be a cave, at the entrance of which there was a pine tree one person high, forming a natural barrier, which would be difficult for outsiders to find if they did not look carefully. The cave was wet and cold, overgrown with weeds, covered with moss, black and bottomless. The cloud stamped his feet to keep warm, small geared motors ,uns s32760 plate, his hands shrank in his sleeves, his clothes tightened, and and stones fell from the top of the head. The cloud hurried to the side to hide, shrinking into a ball, thinking that it was not an earthquake. I saw the boulder tilting outward bit by bit, the gap on the top was getting bigger and bigger, the hole suddenly brightened up, and a bright sunshine fell on the ground. When the gap at the mouth of the cave was as big as two feet wide,uns c68700, the vibration was not as severe as before, and the sand and stones on the top of the head did not fall, but only made a dull "gurgling" sound. ichgearmotor.com

[iwadori]

So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3

When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)

Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four  Part Five Part 6

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima

You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)

You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.

But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.  

“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”

You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.

“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)

Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.

You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.

Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.  

When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.

You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.

‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.

`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.  

You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.

The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.

When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.  

The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’  

You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.  

What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”

“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”

Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”

The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.

The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,  

“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.

“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”  

“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”  

“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts  

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.

“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.  

You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.

“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.

“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”

“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”  

By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.  

So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.

You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.

“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto  

“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”

“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks  

“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone.  You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.  

You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.

Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.  

“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”

“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say

“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”

“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say

“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks

“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.

“Wow.”

You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.  

Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”  

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”

“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit

“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.  

“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room

“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”  

“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.

“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””  

“Really?” you ask with disbelief

“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”  

“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure

“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.

You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.  

“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi  

“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”

“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”

“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya  making you chuckle.  

“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”

“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room

“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”  

“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”  

“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.

“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”  

“With who?”  

“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”

After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.  

Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.

You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.

AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...

[bloodycassian]

anon asked:

ok hear me out, azriel x reader where reader can hear thoughts or something along those lines and she doesn’t know how to control it so she’s constantly hearing or feeling thoughts/emotions and it’s heats super overwhelming and az helps her through it <3

The headaches hadn't stopped for weeks. Rhys had even called over a medwitch from the continent to help, but there was nothing she could see that was wrong. They were all worried, but their worries just somehow made your head hurt even more. The whispers you could hear from them down the stairs of the townhouse were the worst part. 'Do they need a cleansing?' 'What happened to cause it?' 'Their body is doing this for a reason.' they went on and on and on, never answering each other. Each voice different through the muffling of the walls.  You were ready to scream. Pillow over your head wouldnt even block them out. You rocked in bed, hands over your ears. Nothing, no more silence ever. Just the ringing in your head of all the voices. Mor had tried asking her father if he knew anything about such subjects. Anything for help. Azriel swooped into the city streets, nodding at a few shopkeeps as he went. After being gone for the last few weeks, the welcome faces of his home were a sight for sore eyes. He held the bag of various salts and salves gently, just as he had his whole trip back. He landed with precision at the front gate of the town home. The familiar wrought iron fence squeaking slightly when he opened it. You felt his presence before he even opened the front door. The coolness of his essence seeping through the walls. The curling shadows that darkened everything ever so slightly. "Your condition seems to have...developed since I left." He set the tote down on the chair by the door, then closed it softly. The whispering became more intense, a pounding in your head that drowned out almost everything else.  "Oh-" He breathed as he walked in. A shocked look then he was grinning. "Leave us." He dismissed Rhys, who gave him a look before obeying. He took off his jacket, leaving him in a dark tunic that made his eyes look brighter. He cocked his head when staring at you, then took a breath. The shadows seemed to summon around him, making him look even more intimidating than normal. They slunk around his ankles like a fog. Then they covered the walls of the room, blocking off the light from the window entirely. The relief in your mind was overwhelming.  You choked out a sob, looking at him with wide eyes. The silence, the weight taken from your brain was like breathing for the first time. "H-how?" You panted, getting up from the bed. Sickness did not weigh you down any longer. The pounding ceased completely, alleviating your too warm temples. He came close to you, only too close because of the thin nightgown you wore. Really it was one of Cassian's old shirts that just fitted you like a dress. When you had taken his room due to your apparent illness you had found a few 'interesting' items of his that were left. "It seems your condition has...evolved since I saw you last." He reached a hand out to you, the siphons atop thrumming with a warm dark blue. You took it tentatively, your eyes slid shut -then there he was. His scent, his thoughts, his everything was in your mind. You scrambled away from it mentally, your heart slamming in your chest. He stroked a thumb over your hand. His mental voice was warm, yet rough and commanding. "Slow. Think, but slowly. I'm here, you're okay." The voice said.  His darkness seemed to follow him to your mind, coating it in a coolness that was much appreciated. "What do I do? What am I?" You took a breath, trying to center yourself. Your entire being was roaring at you to fight back against the intrusion, but he shushed you into not trying it. "You...are new. You're like me, in a way." He whispered softly, his essence drifting over you comfortingly. Like a soft blanket, cold but still comforting.  "How do I get it ito stop?" You sighed, wanting to bury your head in your hands again. He touched you then, slowly at first. Dragging a soft, textured hand up to your wrist, then pulling you in for a hug. His warmth was the opposite of everything else about him, those shadows did nothing against the core of him, his heat.  "You dont, you learn how to make it work with you." He said aloud, his presence rolling out of your mind like a thundercloud. He pulled out of the embrace, "You need to make the thoughts blend like street noise- like a crowd. Learn to select what you want to hear. "  "You make it sound so easy." You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Azriel may or may not have glanced at how it hitched up the oversized t shirt. Hunger opened up in the pit of his stomach at the filthy thoughts. He knew it was Cassian's shirt, recognized and scented it. It made him want to put his own scent on you in several different, creative ways. He cracked a grin and shrugged slightly, "It'll be like reading a new language. But you need to learn to speak it first." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you to the balcony, the shadows following you in a close bubble the whole way.  "All these people have their thoughts, their words and actions. My shadows tell me all about their outfits, their scents, their hair. Unnecessary unless they have a weapon." He gestured to a few fae males outside a townhome a few houses down. One threw their arms up in the air and stormed back inside." I can't keep them from giving me this information, but I do let it go. I dont even listen unless I detect a threat."  You let out a long breath, feeling the anxiety of him leaving already. "Please stay." His stomach dropped at the words. You grabbed for his hand. As if the open sky was demanding he take off that second. " I cant-" You kept your voice from trembling. "It's too much. Why me? Why now?" Tears threatened and you looked away. He couldnt bear to see you in such pain. He wanted - he needed to give you relief from it. He squared his shoulders and squeezed your hand back. "Are you afraid to fly?" he asked, flexing his wings. The shadows answered with their own wave. "I'm not the biggest fan-" Before you could give your list of excused you'd rather not fly, he was shooting into the air, the backs of your thighs rubbing over his deliciously warm skin. Your yelp of surprise was left behind you. You held on to his shoulders for dear life. "If you would open your eyes you might not be so scared." He laughed, his siphons glaring a bright shield around you that protected you from the wind. He flew fast, and far. His presence was the only one you felt, like a cool rain on your still reeling mind. He had sent Rhys an advisory thought before he took you, letting him know you needed some 'fun'. "If I open my eyes I'm going to vomit all over you." You said, squeezing your eyes tighter. You felt the laugh through his chest. His thumb circled the back of your knee, giving you goosebumps that had nothing to do with the slight chill running through the shield. The shirt was not nearly enough for an outing, and you doubted he was taking you anywhere with anyone who would mind. The thought sent a thrill through you. Alone. He wanted to be alone with you.  As if in approval, his essence drifted happily into your mind, caressing you as his thumb did. He flew lower slowly, enjoying your scent mixed with the cool smell of the lake below. The way the sun at this angle made your hair shine. He landed softly, setting you down only after you'd made him promise you were no longer flying.  "We're done...for now." He winked when you opened, marveling at his wind tosseld hair for a second before collecting yourself and brushing your shirt absently. He grinned wider, and the coolness you'd felt since he showed up in the town home receded. You felt...like you. Normal again, weightless in comparison after the weeks of buzzing in your head. And the view beyond his goofy grin was marvelous. A snowcapped mountain towered above, sloping to create the lake. Mixes of different rock lay everywhere. The scattered pines seemed like giants whispering in the breeze. "Listen to the birds, enjoy the silence for a while." He said, then began walking to the bank of the bright blue water. You stood in shock for a while, letting the sound of the wind and nothing else seep into you. You reveled in it, joying in the simplicity of it. Everything seemed so much louder than you remembered.  You sat on a boulder and watched him skip rocks, the short splats of them echoing off the mountainside. He skipped one after another, occasionally picking up smaller ones and pocketing them. You let your mind wander, trying to regain the feeling he had shrouded you with in the townhome. The solid wall he had put up around your mind for you. But he had said you needed to learn to let it blend in, to deal with it and not shut it out. It was an asset, not a hinderance. You shuddered at using the gift for much. You didnt care to know peoples ins and outs in normal conversation, let alone without them knowing. You attempted to summon that wall. It was like grasping at water, thick and heavy and impossible. The lingering remnants of control slipped away like sand through your fingers. You buried your face in your hands, letting the tears fall.  When he approached, you didn't bother hiding. He had been in your head, he knew what it was like. He said nothing, just wrapped an arm around you and let you cry into his shoulder. Holding you tighter on the bigger sobs that ripped out of you. 

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Winter In The Shade XIII

Part XIII

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2622

Requested by @pogueslandia : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (Let me know if there's any, though)

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Sending someone to wake me up it’s not what a best friend would do, Black.” you muttered, running your hands through your hair as you brushed it away from your face with your fingers.

“Is your roommate still alive?” he asked with a knowing smile, standing straight from his previous position leaning on the wall outside your common room.

That day you hadn’t woken up with the soft sunlight over your face, your skin warm to the touch as you stretched the sleep out of your body, you didn’t wake up to the distant chatter of the rest of the Ravenclaws at the common room or to the smell of your roommates perfumes after they had showered. No. You woke up to the harsh grasp of Anne, one of your roommates, shaking you awake like some natural event was happening and you all had to run out of the castle. Did natural disasters even dare to touch Hogwarts? You didn’t have the time to ask, the urgence in her voice when she told you some Slytherin boy was looking for you outside enough to make your own worry wash away with a groan, turning your back and diving deeper in your bed.

“He said it was important.”

“I’m sure.” you mumbled, your face buried in your pillow as you lifted your head, muttering under your breath as you got out of bed like a grumpy child.

“She’s breathing.” you assured him, a glare permanent in your face as you started to walk beside him “To what do I owe the pleasure of rising this early in the morning?” you asked bitterly.

“You’re the worst.” he said with a hint of humor, making you turn to him in both shock and a deeper glare.

“Excuse you?” you said.

“I play Quidditch, today is the game.” he reminded you, the vague memory of those words being told to you before coming back to you “You asked me to come and look for you just before it began.”

“You’re playing this early?” you asked, looking outside the windows in the corridor to see the sun was barely out in the sky “You’re not playing, Reg. That’s called torture, someone like you should know that.” you said, nudging his side with your arm.

He stayed silent, turning to you before he quickly glanced away. “What do you mean?” he asked.

You looked at him, taking his change of humor in before you answered “You and your habit of making me wake up early.” you explained, but there was no humor behind your words anymore. “Are you sure you feel alright?”

He took a deep breath, one you barely noticed before he nodded firmly. “Of course.” he answered “You’re right, it’s too early. I’m not fully awake yet.” he said, patting his cheeks gently with the pads of his fingers, making you shake your head and laugh. “I thought we could have breakfast together, before the game.”

“I-” you said, linking your arm with his “would absolutely love that.”

Regulus led the both of you to the mostly empty Great Hall, breakfast being served to the few early birds like Regulus that chose to raise with the sun. You would never understand but you had, literally , asked for it.

You seated on your usual spot, your eyelids still a little heavy while you saw Regulus moved gracefully.

“Your tea.” he said, handing you a cup with careful movements.

“How thoughtful.” you answered, taking the cup from his hands as you took a slow sip “But I think if you want me to survive this day I might need something a little stronger.”

He rolled his eyes and said nothing, as he switched his cup with yours with a swift movement across the table.

You looked down in shock at your new cup, the dark liquid reflecting your image and showing exactly how you felt “Since when do you drink coffee?” you asked in a whispered scream.

He glanced at you with little expression on his face “I took a liking to it during the winter break.” he explained.

“Winter break?” you questioned “Did your mother take a liking to it too or what? You’ve never even looked in its direction, not even when I tried to force it on you.” you said, spitting the words. Your arms laid crossed over your chest, your glare set on your face as you saw him shrug.

“It’s because you tried to force it on me that I didn’t try it.” he said back, both of you entering in a small fight over his new liking to the warm beverage, your body language becoming more prominent as you both started to lean on the table, hands pointing everywhere while trying to keep your voices hushed.

“They look like an old couple.” James said from the other end of the Great Hall, taking a bite of his breakfast as he glanced at the silence of Sirius.

“Stop.” Remus warned him, snapping his fingers in front of Sirius “They’ll feel you staring and it’ll be worse for her.”

“Maybe he should feel my stare.” Sirius snapped, lowering his gaze and taking his emotions out on his own breakfast, a fork his weapon of choice.

You hadn't even seen Sirius when you got to the Great Hall but he had heard your laugh the moment you turned right on the door, holding onto his brother’s arm like nothing had happened. Did you forget all that he said? Were you that great of an actress? The smile that inevitably appeared on his face at any sign of you was completely washed away when you two sat down and started talking like you always had.

He wanted that.

“You should talk to her.” Remus offered but James cut him short.

“I don’t get what the big issue is! So your brother is her best friend, why should that stop you from dating her?”

“You forgot the part where Regulus is a Slytherin with the mind and ideas of Sirius’ parents that hates him for being him.” Remus said, all three pairs of eyes on him with an unnatural silence “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right.”

“Didn’t have to be so harsh about it.” Peter murmured in his side while Sirius just stared blankly with hopelessness in his eyes.

“Point is,” James added, slinging his arm over Sirius’ shoulders and giving Remus a glare “He already hates you, why not give him one more reason?”

Sirius groaned, moving out of James' hold “Because she doesn’t want him to hate her.”

“She might have to pick.” James added, a bright smile on his lips. “And we all know who would win, right?” he asked, looking for Remus and Peter’s support but only finding his subtle shaking of heads, making all confidence in James fade.

“Yeah, Prongs.” Sirius said, pointing his hand in your direction as he let it fall with a thud on the table, the act of defeatment “The one in the old couple wins. Look at them! Everyone already thinks that they are secretly dating. I stand no chance.”

The three Marauders stared at their friend in disbelief. A side of Sirius Black they never expected to see coming to shine from the dark, making its way into the world for everyone to see it. Sirius Black, the boy who had all the ladies running after him, the one who had no trouble using his skills to have everyone down on their knees and that knew he was worth it of it all and more, that same Sirius Black that now hid his head in between his arms for a Ravenclaw girl who had the heart and wit to befriend his brother and become the shadow of one another.

Sirius Black cared for the girl enough to put his own desires aside and let her be happy, to keep his friendship. The only person she had left in the school. That wasn’t true anymore, but he knew it was the truth for his brother. A brother that deep down he still cared about, he knew that the girl sitting in front of him was his entire world and he didn’t have the heart to hurt two people he cared about for his own happiness. As selfish as Sirius Black was, this time he didn’t want to be. He just hoped he had the strength to keep that promise to himself.

*******

The air up on the bleachers was cold against your cheeks. The day had gotten a little cloudy and you could smell in the air a storm coming in the school direction. You just hoped it wouldn’t start as you watched the game. Moving through all of your housemates you found a seat in the front, a seat for someone who went there all by themselves, someone like you. You went for the sole purpose of watching Regulus play, something you two didn’t share in liking but he was still passionate about, you loved seeing the smile on his face while he flew on his broom.

The students divided themselves without even realizing it, covering the deep blue colors of the Ravenclaw house you could find the team they supported for the day. Dark red banners flew in the air while others jumped with green pieces of clothing. Of course, you didn’t stay behind. Covering the blue of your robes there was a green scarf around your neck. Regulus had wrapped it around your neck just before you went your separate ways, you wished him luck and watched him go to the changing rooms.

But now you didn’t feel sure about it. Wishing you could divide your body and paint one side with the colors of Gryffindor while the other flashed the usual greens.

It wasn’t every day that the two houses played against one another, the natural rivalry making the game all the more interesting for those who enjoyed the competition. They might not be the best teams or the greatest players, but they were the houses of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. The tension in the air was stronger than the one of the upcoming storm.

Your attention was captured from inside your head the moment the wind swept your hair out of your face, green and silver flying in the air as each player took their position. They waved proudly, the cheers loud and full of excitement.

Then the Gryffindor team make their appearance. The crowd burst with energy as the team flew around, waving to all the people in the bleachers. It wasn’t unknown how popular they were. Marlene Mckinnon was in their team, one of the prettiest girls in the school, a true Gryffindor and quidditch player. Then you could count on the charisma of James Potter, captain and star. And then there was Sirius, you were certain most people who usually didn’t show up to quidditch games were there only for Sirius.

But then inevitable happened. Sirius flew just above from where you stood, looking down at you with a smile. He moved through the air in a subtle way, glancing in different directions but inevitably ending on you. He flashed you his brightest smile, pointing to his neck as he shook his head.

You looked down, seeing the Slytherin scarf around your neck and feeling a blush come up to your cheeks.

His smile returned to his face, winking in your direction before he dissapeared in the distance. The game began minutes after.

Of course he would make a big entrance in your life after being missing for days. Only he would do that.

Your bubble burst when the cheers to your right began increasing in volume, seeing Gryffindor had scored. You restrained yourself to slow claps, James bumping fists with Marlene as they went back to their positions. The game was getting more interesting by the minute.

The last few minutes had you on the edge of your seat. The scores were even, the Slytherins played sharper and the Gryffindors rougher. Regulus had been after the snitch with no luck, almost fighting the Gryffindor seeker every time each of them caught a glimpse of it. Your eyes were focused on the black haired boy, his eyes snapping to all directions at the slightest sound and then he was gone. You tried to follow him but he was too fast, your neck too sore from trying to keep up, finally losing him in the crowd of players. Still you found your new focus.

Sirius flew through the middle of the field, following close to James as he kept the Slytherin team away from him, the Quaffle secured under his arm. They worked in sync, James flying higher and faster. He wasted no time once he got his shot, throwing the Quaffle with a swift swing of his arm.

Just then the game ended but the cheers grew as every single person joined in. All the players looked down, you following as your eyes widened in surprise. You shot up in your place, throwing your hands in the air. Regulus held the snitch in his hand.

Confusion filled the place as everyone wondered who had won. The game ended with Gryffindor having more points but Regulus caught the golden snitch.

You lowered your arms, looking at Regulus as he met your gaze. He shrugged, going to the ground where all the players were shouting their arguments to the teachers.

A couple of minutes in silence followed as everyone observed the crowd down in the pitch, the frustration clear in their faces. They were throwing their hands in the air, pointing at each other and shouting, the echo of their voices reaching the high part of the bleachers.

“Gryffindor wins!” yelled the student that had been commenting on the entire game. The crowd burst into loud cheers once more, some running down to the pitch while others hugged right there. The energy was too heavy and you couldn’t help but join in, letting out a shout as you jumped in your place.

You ran down to the ground, body clashing against many students going in the opposite direction. And then you met his eyes, far away in the distance, Sirius stood tall over many of the students that were congratulating the team but his gaze remained on you, a smile mirrored in both your faces as you started to walk in his direction, unknowing of Regulus watching you from the side.

He stared at your smile, one he had never seen in your face, and followed the direction of your eyes. It was a sea of people, all of them sharing the smile on your lips but not one sharing the feeling.

Just before you got away from him he reached for you, tapping your shoulder as he followed your step.

“Reg!” you gasped, turning to the side before you pointed at him. “I-I could’ve sworn I saw you over there.” you said, pointing in the direction you were headed.

“I’m right here.” he told you “You look far too happy for someone whose best friend just lost a game because of bad timing.”

You laughed, smiling smugly at him “And I’m the bad loser.”

“It was bad timing and you know it.” he said, about to add something else when he closed the gap from his mouth, seeing your eyes lost in the distance, glancing between him and whatever had captured your attention.

You shook your head and turned fully to him, taking his arm and dragging him with you “If only you were faster.” you mocked, returning to the conversation like nothing had happened.

“If only.” he whispered, letting himself follow your step as he took one last glance over his shoulder.

Gryffindor.

TAGS

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy / @megaprincesscakes / @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend / @pogueslandia / @zaidlyn / @aconfusedslytherin / @animprxperworld / @aconfusedslytherin / @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep / @mirclealignr / @angelsandsorcery / @badass-yn / @naisnape

Winter in the Shade

@plethoraofpuppies / @dracoissohot / @funravenclaw2002 / @lilyevanswhore / @edithsvoice / @falconxbarnes / @blackst0nes7077 / @gabitanaka47 / @padsfirewhisky / @lazzwhile / @crazy-beautiful / @blackenergy / @ninawhatfandom / @justchecking-mayheadback / @simpforslytherins / @letmeinplease22 / @auggie2000 / @sarcasm-n-insomnia /

Marauders

@destourtereaux / @ktyflwr / @nehireerdogan / @medalloway-blog / @waxsealed-letters / @j-cat / @aleksanderwh0r3 / @lostrandomfangirl

Sirius Black

@funravenclaw2002 / @blackst0nes7077 / @lilylikethefl0wer / @just-wordsandthoughts / @bhavanaa /

[starshipsofstarlord]

Can you do part 2 of chandelier?

Chandelier

This is part to to this imagine, find it here

Pairing | dark!Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary | the suburban life that you have been locked in soon takes a turn whence another being, with radiating power is revealed to be causing such destruction. Perhaps Wanda isn’t the bad guy, or at least, not the worst villain that has you under their thumb. Witches, and their possessiveness!

Warnings | mentions of death, violence, witches, magic, imprisonment, angst, spoilers for Wandavision. I fixed the Ralph Bohner plot because I could

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Time had surpassed, and continuing to live under the restrictions of Wanda hadn’t been so bad. She was your wife, the Maximoff that owned your heart, a red beam of scarlet that floated around in the depths of your head. Her influence left a pressure inside of you, a mark and a reminder to her that you belonged to her.

One thing that you knew for certain, was that you needed to escape these red restrictions, and break free of this place that you were forced to call home. It was tough to slip from the penetrating gaze of the possessive redhead, but to your luck, your nosey neighbour had decided, on this fine evening, to walking into the kitchen, and stir up some gossip with your partner.

Agnes, as she went by. It always seemed like she wanted to be away from that husband Ralph of hers, but you couldn’t blame her, you wanted nothing more than to escape the possessiveness of your wife. She was no longer the same woman that you had met, she was crafted by loss, that tormented her into being a captive. Using the excuse of protecting you to her advantage, claiming that you would not appreciate what lay on the outside of Westview.

Party girls don't get hurt

Can't feel anything, when will I learn?

I push it down, push it down

I'm the one "for a good time call"

But you couldn’t help but feel completed as you reached the borders of the town. It was surreal, you felt ecstatic to leave this little prison, that was in deep disguise to convince all residents that their home was real, and not all an illusion painted by a certain redhead. She saw you as a new canvas, which she kept overlapping with white paint to make blank for another piece of mindful artwork.

Turning once more, to ensure that the woman of your nightmares hadn’t decided to appear behind you, within a second, you lurched forward, pushing your body through her borders, feeling each atom in your atom tug apart and put itself back together, as you fought with just your own body to break through the access and exit point of her false reality.

That’s all this was, an illusion, masked in amounts of power that could possibly kill you. But death by attempted escape was better than remaining here, in this vast plain, that was all meant to occupy the mind, fooling it into thinking that this was a normal life. Instead, you knew how absurd it was, there were tweaks every now and then, until you were transferred into a different time.

Right now, you were in the 2000s, but you needed to get back to 2023, the real time line, the universe outside of these red orbits that stood strong, and pained your skin, pushing a power that you did not know that you could feel beneath your flesh, making your body burn from your withdrawal from its sharp contents.

Phone's blowin' up, ringin' my doorbell

I feel the love, feel the love

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One. Two. Three. A yell bellowed from your throat as you fell out to the other side, collapsing on the ground, as your fingertips dug into the surface below. For a moment you frowned, before you glanced behind you, seeing the grand gesture of magic in its place, and you out of your own. You picked dirt up with your hands, it felt real, not like molecules that had been wedged together to create the appearance of such a natural substance.

The sound of footsteps had you rolling over, preparing to attack whomever had decided to disturb your peace, crouching on your knees as you glared up. It was a woman, one that you vaguely remembered, before your ever so loving wife had informed you that she had moved away, something about her mother not feeling well. All though, that may have been an illusion too, for all you were aware.

Nobody escaped Westview, until you. There was no route out, you were sure the chase wasn’t over, Wanda would come after you, numbing your mind with her tugging hands, that swirled with her red essence. The woman emitted grave power, and you far well knew that she would use it for when the time came. She would make you her prisoner once more, a dull and empty shell that would be ordered to do nothing more than return her affections with a plastered smile.

“Geraldine?” You asked nervously, realising that the woman appeared far different than the version of her within the Hex. She had portrayed nothing more than a fine friend to the deluded woman, supporting her magic show and coming over for tea in the morning, until she mentioned... Sokovia. Sokovia, her home, that had fallen against the battle with Ultron! You remembered!

Throw 'em back 'til I lose count

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist

Like it doesn't exist

“Geraldine doesn’t exist.” She smiled softly, holding out a hand so that she could assist you to your feet. With sly eyes, you took it, untrusting of anyone at the moment. “My name is Monica, I have the intent of stopping your wife, she’s dangerous. She’s expanding these borders, and soon, I have no doubt that she will eat up the whole world, turning it into her playground.”

Playgrounds. They had been another thing that you noticed specked around the town, though there never seemed to be any children to play in them. That gave you some relief, unless they were locked up, stowed away to be kept of the suburban life. Wanda didn’t want children anyway, she wanted you, her baby, her fine darling, her pet. You were nothing more than a decoration within her false realm, a means to keep a smile stretched upon her sinister face, and a stopper to her darting red eyes.

And thus you stood on your own feet, no scarlet shadow behind you, whispering thoughts that were not your own in through your ear. Gulping, you looked Monica up and down, nervously seeing if she were to fade into the air, as many things did when the times changed, as they converted into more modern alternatives. A part of you had wished that you would grow with the changes, become stronger, become a free woman.

“I am not her wife.” You admitted aloud, feeling a heavy weight roll off your chest. There, you had said it, and for the first time, you hoped that the redhead heard you, you could imagine her scowl right now. That, that would be something that was sure as hell real, and not a part of her sketch script, her sitcoms were curtains.

They could be opened or closed, but often of a night, were shut to keep the silhouettes of monsters out. She was the monster, hiding from herself and the reality that she had came from. Though, the woman could not accept that she was the villain here. The creator of the dialysis that was affecting the lives of many, but for what purpose.

I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night

Feel my tears as they dry

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

But I'm holding on for dear life

“We have to stop her.” Monica spoke, getting out of the vehicle, you following behind her, as she moved closer to the collateral red veil that reached high up into the sky. Sounds from Jimmy insisted that she remain, and that another way in could be found, but all of you knew that was a long shot. And there was no time to wait around, not as purple grates were seen through the crimson walls of her boundaries, bursting like fireworks against her protection system.

And thus, you, gulping down the sensations of fear prickling at your fingers, followed after Monica, whom walked through the moulded fire, stepping into the plain that digressed your body, pulling it as though it were trying to reform your genes, affecting your DNA. As you succumbed to the sensations, you felt a burst in your chest, an ignition of something greater deep inside you.

But unlike Wanda, you were not going to use it for your own sinful convenience, you were going to stop her. You gasped as you fell out the other side, your limbs feeling like they were aflame, askew with treacherous fire. Turning to Monica, you saw that her eyes had transformed into an ambient blue, piercing your soul.

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Help me, I'm holding on for dear life

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

“Your skin.” She spiked, raising her hand to her own cheek as she looked upon you. It was separated into sections, adjoined by the bone, as neon orange kept it attached, like cracks that had yet to be partitioned. There was no time for idly finding a mirror to squalor through at your own appearance though, no. You had returned to this hell for one reason only, and that was put an end to all this consuming madness.

And so, the pair of you walked through the town, not having to go far until you saw the ongoing battle. Agnes, as you had known her, was in the sky, along with you alleged wife, purple robes floating from her body, her hair crazed and wild, much like her eyes. She was no friendly neighbour, she was a reaper coming out to play, throwing lilac bursts of power towards Wanda, whom returned the favour with her own red energy.

“How do we get to them?” Rambeau asked, frowning as she watched their exchange with worried irises. To answer her question, your body aligned itself to rise, transcending towards the two warriors, your eyes hot and fiery as they flared remarkably at the sight of the bewitched competition.

At your presence, Agnes smirked, and Wanda’s face paled, soaking in the sight of your skin glowing with your own source of power. “If it isn’t your wife, just on time to join us for the main course.” Your nose curled at the sound of her distorted voice, as your head raised itself, glaring upon the scene. “There’s something different about you, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight, on for tonight

Sun is up, I'm a mess

Gotta get out now, gotta run from this

Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

To emphasise her point, she emitted a pulse of her magic towards you, it hitting deep in the pit of your chest. Though, it didn’t explode, or send you hurtling back, instead it grew brawlingly in your chest, brewing like a potion, and expanding every human structure that you could feel kept your skeleton upright.

As your head fall, and you remained in your place, Wanda frowned, head tilting as a crown appeared upon her forehead. She could not understand how you had changed so clearly. You were definitely not her wife, you were an image of her enemy, floating alongside her, standing for your cause. That was to end her, and this place she had formatted to become her home; your home.

When she had learnt of your betrayal, escaping whilst she was distracting by this opposer of hers, she had been filled with various emotions. Angry was one definition of how she had felt, but another had been determined. She was determined to get you back, and wash away all thoughts of ever leaving her again. But as she looked upon you, for some reason, she knew that her tricks wouldn’t work.

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

Throw 'em back 'til I lose count

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

“What are you?” She asked in that distressed accent of hers. What were you? It was unknown, or at least to your own knowledge, you were a vision, a bird set free, no longer trapped behind the bars of a cage. Wanda tried to thrust your to the side with her elegant will, but instead of obeying her technical whim, you tilted your head.

It came as a shock to you as well, having expected to be thrown around by her wishes, but instead, you remained, only absorbing her tainted force, your hair blowing from the sweeping of the stormy wind as you poised the two witches with your amber gaze, keeping your pupils locked on them, as a hurricane rounded through the air, grabbing every form of their power.

The walls of the Hex slowly faded, swirling in the air before coming on command towards you, roping around your limbs before sinking into your flesh, leaving Agatha with a studying from onto her trialed face. She was watching, rather than fighting with you, picking out the little details like she had done with Wanda.

From the chandelier

I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist

Like it doesn't exist

I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night

Feel my tears as they dry

She was the scarlet witch, the most powerful sorceress of all, but you indeed were something else. Monica squinted from below, as she saw a streak of blue oncoming towards her, his willpower transcending through her, as he crumbled mistakenly to the ground.

He was a fake, or was he. As he tripped, Monica caught sight of the flaring purple beads around his neck, and thus, she knelt upon his chest, as she looked at them. This Pietro was being controlled, and she assumed it was through the ancient jewellery, and so, she pulled it from around his neck, scattering the beads upon the street.

As the man looked up, he was astounded. There was a fiery bird igniting in the sky, its wingspan spreading far, as it reigned terror upon all. He was amazed to see the sight once more... she was supposed to be dead. She had sacrificed herself, turned into particles within the universe. But it seemed as though the winged creature, pardoned by great force lived on.

I'm gonna swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

But I'm holding on for dear life

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Help me, I'm holding on for dear life

“Jean?” He whispered to himself, with a frown, his hand covering his mouth as he thought of his old friend that had facaded into meandering smithereens. Monica sighed at the man, walking closer, as she crossed her arms, looking down upon where he had crashed, and was laying upon the ground.

“Ralph Bohner?” She asked, watching as the stranger frowned at the title that she assumed of hun. With speed, he assisted himself up, brushing his hands on his legs, as he kept blinking up at the apocalyptic sky.

“No, I feel sorry for a dude with that name.” He lightly chuckled, finding the boner joke rather hilarious. “Peter Maximoff is the name, my fine lady.” She shook her head at his efforts but... Maximoff? What about Pietro?

Won't look down, won't open my eyes

Keep my glass full until morning light

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight

“She’s the dark Phoenix.” Agatha gulped, her face contorting into one of fear and worry as she looked on at the way your arms spread like an eagle, igniting with their flame like aura. She had heard ancient stories, but they were not from this time. And here you were, facing off against her and the scarlet witch.

They had no chance against you, but Wanda did not know that, and as she readied to face off with you, she found herself being pushed to the ground, by nothing more than your stern gaze. Agatha too was pulled in by your sway, as you forced both to descend, and be grounded.

With a curve of your neck, they found themselves trapped against telephone lines, lines of their own magic pulling at them like strands. They were tied up, like the witches of old, powerless to those that stalked them.

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

All of a sudden, Wanda felt overcome with regret, as she was put in this position. She tried to escape, but Agnes as she had called herself priorly shook her head at the silly girl, understanding that this was the end.

“We are no match for her Wanda. She is not a witch, she is being far more powerful. Fall to her mercy, or you will receive the brunt of it.” Westview had fallen, and thus, Wanda realised that by taking you, you had taken everything right back from her, reciprocating the notion that she had described to be love.

She held on, wanting the night to be over, as she saw Monica, the woman that had tried to help her, behind you. And the man that had posed as her biological brother. There was no hope left for her, no saving her. In the end, she had became the villain. Her and Agatha were not so different after all.

'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight

Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight

On for tonight, on for tonight

[aurabird]

Haunted Dreams

Sausage just wants to sleep...but trauma weighs heavy on the mind.

Tw: Nightmares, blood/violence, brief disassociation

Also on Ao3

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

He walked through Mythland, a casual stroll through the streets of his empire to see it in all its restored glory now that he’d removed the corruption that had overun it. His citizens greeted him as he passed and he made a point to at least try and speak with as many of them as he could.

Then the sky grew dark, thunder echoing as lightning split the heavens and suddenly, the citizens around him were gone, as if they’d never been there to begin with.

Sausage knew what the storm meant and he ran; fear in his heart and panic in his mind. He needed to get away, he needed to hide. He was fooling himself, there was no hiding from the harbinger of the storm, no matter how much he wished there was.

He ducked into a building as he was inflicted with a blindness spell, cowering in a corner like a frightened animal. Maybe...maybe if he pretended they weren’t here like Joel did then they’d go away. Positive thinking right? That’s what Gem always told him.

“Hello, Sausage.” Xornoth said with a wicked grin as he came into view, “You and I have much to discuss.”

“No! G-Go away! I don’t work for you anymore!”

The demon laughed, “Oh Sausage, did you really think I’d leave you alone? You will never escape me!”

The next thing Sausage knew was been teleported, now on a netherbrick floor where familiar crimson tendrils were quick to bind him.

The blindness spell wore off and he felt his blood run cold. He knew where he was, he’d been here before when he was still under the influence of corruption. Even now he could almost hear the agonized cries and pleas of those he watched Xornoth torture...that he himself even tortured. Sausage could almost see Fwhip, Gem, and Kathrine bound and helpless, their blood still staining the ground.

“Its a new perspective isn’t it? Being on the receiving end of something you once enjoyed?” Xornoth questioned, twirling a dark, bloodied dagger in his hand as he walked “I cannot let your insolence go unpunished, Sausage.”

Suddenly, the demon was in front of him, its gaze meeting his own. “I wonder how easy you’ll be to break.”

  Sausage jolted upright with a cry, pain radiating in his right arm. He quickly looked at it in panic, expecting to see pulsating crimson veins. Instead, all he saw were the web-like scars where corruption had once been seared in his flesh. His gaze followed them from where they started at his wrist, and ended right over his heart.

He grimaced at the permanent reminders of what he’d done and averted his gaze to the room he was in. It wasn’t a dungeon where he would be tortured, it was his bedroom...in his keep...in Mythland.

There was no storm outside, moonlight shining brightly through the window and casting a gentle glow on the floor and walls.

A nightmare...that’s all it’d been. A remnant of the trauma he’d gone through. Still, there was no going back to sleep, not after that. Maybe...maybe he could go on a midnight walk to clear his head?

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, going over to his wardrobe and grabbing a simple undershirt, pants, and a cloak. It was a casual attire, much different than what he would normally wear, but it’d work.

Once he was on the cobbled streets he began his walk. Mythland was stunning at night, lanterns lit the paths and fireflies flickered in the air. The sound of night wildlife was therapeutic as it was joined by his quiet footsteps.

The bleating of blood sheep made him smile, with the corruption tentacles gone the symbols of his empire’s culture had come out from hiding, no longer afraid.

All was fine until Sausage could have sworn he saw a shadow move in the darkness. When he turned to look, it was gone.

Just a nocturnal animal he told himself before continuing down the path towards one of the residential areas.

He’d helped design some of the houses here himself and the sight of them made him smile. Light shone dimly through closed windows, alerting him that the residents were safe.

Then, in one of the alleys, he caught sight of a shadow, but it disappeared seconds after he made eye contact with it. A stray dog or cat he thought, that was all, there was no one out on the streets at this hour other than him.

As he continued he noticed that the sounds of the night had gone quiet, his footsteps echoed by another set behind him. He turned, but saw no one, not even the particles of an invisibility potion.

He was tired, that was all. He was tired and just imagining things. He was alone out here...he should probably head back home to rest.

Countless times more on his way back did he swear he was hearing footsteps, close enough to be in earshot, yet far enough away to be unnerving. He also could have sworn the shadow he kept seeing was following him. He knew it was just paranoia, once he was back in bed he’d be fine.

Soon, his home came into view and he went inside, climbing the stairs back to his bedroom.

He discarded the cloak, hanging it on the railing to put away in the morning and made his way over to his bed, not even bothering to get undressed again.

As he passed the mirror by his wardrobe though he froze, the reflection in it drawing his attention out of the corner of his eye. The second he turned to look, he recoiled with a yelp.

In the glass was a man that looked like him, a man dressed in black and grey with piercing red eyes and black veins marring their skin that had a faint crimson light flickering underneath. A sinister grin crossed their face as their gaze met his own.

“Look at you.” his reflection began in a distorted version of his voice, “Pathetic and weak once more. You were so powerful Sausage, you were feared. Don’t you miss it? The strength flowing through your veins, the magic at your fingertips. You could have had so much more too, if you’d stayed.”

It clicked then who the reflection was, it was someone he never wanted to see again, someone that terrified him. “I’m not you. I’m not a puppet for someone to order around.”

His reflection vanished and for a moment, Sausage thought he’d beaten his subconscious. He’d been wrong as he felt a sword go through him, the blade dripping with ink black blood as it protruded from his chest.

“You’re right,” came the voice of his doppelganger once more, “Because I am what you should have been.”

The sword was yanked back out, and Sausage fell to the ground, hacking and sputtering as the life drained from his body. 

“All I have to do, is kill you and take your place.”

The black blade of a corrupted netherite axe tore through the flesh of his neck.

  Once more he awoke with a cry, his hands instantly flying up to his throat instinctively in panic. Once he realized that his head was still attached did he dare open his eyes.

Sunlight came through the window and lit up the room, birds sung outside and the wind rustled the leaves of trees. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of his people going about their lives.

Tears formed in his eyes and he began to cry, ugly sobs coming from his throat at what he’d witnessed in his nightmare.

Then it dawned on him...what if he was still asleep? What if he’d just passed into another part of the illusion his traumatized mind was inflicting upon him?!

What if...what if he wasn’t really in Mythland? What if he’d failed in the spirit realm and as punishment he was left to suffer a nightmare for eternity?!

Who was he? The King of Mythland? The servant of evil? The condemned spirit left to be forgotten by those he cared about?

The mental turmoil was maddening and Sausage clutched the sides of his head, “Stop...make it stop...” he pleaded quietly.

A knock on the door snapped him from his spiraling thoughts, bringing him back to what he hoped was reality.

“Sausage are you home? I know you said you wanted to rest but I’m worried about you.”

Gem’s voice was music to his ears and Sausage quickly regained his composure as best he could before heading down the stairs to open the door for her.

“Hey, Gem.” he said with what he hopped was a happy tone, he didn’t want to worry her any more.

The wizard’s smile faded, “Sausage you look horrible, I thought you said you were going to get some sleep and recover!”

“What are you talking about Gem? I feel perfectly fine!” he countered casually, “I’ve been resting like I said I would after all!.”

Gem wasn’t convinced, “Sausage, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

The question had been an innocent one, but the nightmare from the night before quickly flashed before him. “N-No, because I’m...I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” he admitted as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"What do you think you’ll see?”

Sausage grit his teeth, his body beginning to shake, “Him, Gem...the corrupted puppet of Xornoth...”

"He isn’t you, Sausage.”

“No...he’s not...” because he’s who I was supposed to be...

Gem broke the momentary silence that followed, “You’ve gone through a lot, Sausage and while I still don’t know if I can fully trust you yet, if you need to talk about anything then I’ll be right over alright?”

Sausage nodded and wrapped his arms around her just to make sure she was real and not another trick played by his mind, “Thank you.”

-

He had spent the next several days working, doing everything he could to keep himself from falling asleep, afraid of what would await him. He’d dozed off a few times and had found himself in several scenarios.

  Sometimes it’d been in the arena, the other rulers falling to his blade over-and-over again, bathing him in their blood while he smiled in sadistic pleasure.

Sometimes he’d be running from a shadow that would always catch him, its claws digging into his mind to puppet him around once more

Sometimes he’d see the wicked grin of his twisted doppelganger as they drove a blade through him, their words poisoning his thoughts and filling him with doubt and fear.

Sometimes he’d be laying helpless as Xornoth tortured him. Trying countless painful methods to ensure that this time the corruption taking over his body would be permanent.

  And when night fell he’d just lay in bed awake, guilt and trauma weighing heavy on his mind. The things he’d done were horrible and now that he was free, he would be hunted relentlessly by the one that had controlled him and the hybrid that still followed them.

Sausage was scared. He needed sleep...he needed help...

That had been the one word shakily scribbled onto the paper he’d tied around a raven’s leg before sending it to the Crystal Cliffs.

-

A knock on the door the following morning forced him to get out of bed and go to open it. Sausage’s movements were sluggish but he managed to succeed in his goal. Gem stood in the doorway, her expression morphing into a grimace once she saw the sorry sight he probably was. “Oh Sausage...what have you been doing to yourself...”

He collapsed into her, unable to hold back tears any longer, “I can’t sleep Gem! Every time I close my eyes the nightmares come, even if its just for a minute. Please Gem, sleeping potions...or even some kind of sleeping spell...just something, anything to help me fall asleep peacefully!”

Gem couldn’t think of any way to reply, only held the broken person in her arms.

“How about we get you inside? See what we can do?”

A distressed  but agreeing sound came from Sausage and Gem helped maneuver him upstairs and back into his bed. The Mythland king looked terrible, his clothes disheveled and his face pale enough that the dark circles forming beneath his eyes were extremely noticeable.

“Tell me everything, Sausage. Tell me about the nightmares and anything that is bothering you.”

So he did. Sausage spilled every detail about his nightmares and paranoia, about every little thing he feared and pondered. Gem listened intently as he spoke, never once interrupting, just letting him get his thoughts out.

By the time he finished Sausage felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, it was...nice.

The last of his energy had been sapped from his venting and the clutches of sleep tried to bring him into their hold.

Gem stroked his head, her sympathetic eyes meeting his own tired ones. “Go to sleep, Sausage.” he coaxed, “I’ll be here to wake you if I sense something is wrong.“

Sausage only gave a sigh, his eyelids slipping shut and lulling him into darkness.

But, for the first time in an unknown amount of days, the nightmares didn’t come. Sausage was at peace, finally able to rest.

[carewyncromwell]

Another addition to the Peter Pan AU concept I’ve done some stuff for...this time with Wendy!Carewyn as a ten-year-old, when she first met the shadow belonging to the Boy Who Never Grew Up, Orion Amari. 

It all started when back in Neverland, Orion was called out to a private meeting with a pirate solely called Jack, who deliberately kept the meeting quiet from both the Captain he served and the rest of his pirate crew. He was the youngest of Captain Hook’s crewmembers, and yet still far too much of an adult for Orion to ever take into his ranks -- but it was what the pirate requested that so intrigued the eternal 12-½-year old. It seemed that even though Neverland had done its work and made Jack forget just about all of his previous life, including his real name, there was someone outside of Neverland who Jack did still remember...and that person was someone he now implored Orion to protect. 

“Her name is Wyn. Or, at least, that’s the name I have...I feel like there was more to that name, once. The rest of the crew calls her ‘Winnie’ sometimes, but I don’t think that’s fully it either. Regardless...I know Hook wants to capture her, like he did me, and I...I don’t want her here, with him. I don’t want her to become a pirate. But I don’t know where she is, except that she’s in London. And as long as I’m stuck with Hook, I...I can’t protect her. So I’m asking you to find her first. She’s younger than me -- much younger, with ginger hair -- small and sweet as a cherub. She’s brave and sharp and she sings like a bird. She’d fit right in with your sort -- no one would have any idea she has anything to do with me. Just...spirit her away, like Hook did me. Take her with you, and keep her safe here, in Neverland. She doesn’t need to know I’m here, or even why you took her, just...just keep her away from Hook. Please.”

Orion cocked his eyebrows. 

“And what will you give me in return?”

The pirate called Jack looked lost for words. His hollowed-out blue eyes -- so like Captain Hook’s and skull-like, even upon such a pale, handsome face -- rippled with desperation. 

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything.”

Orion’s black eyes grew a little smaller, examining the pirate critically. He’d never heard anyone, let alone a pirate, express that amount of caring about another person before. He looked after his Lost Kids, of course, so long as they chose to not grow up -- led them on adventures and told them what to do...but not even the fairies who had first brought him to Neverland ever expressed such...well, selflessness, before. It intrigued Orion enough to decide that maybe he would look out for this “Wyn” -- maybe she could be something useful, if Hook had such interest in her. And if she were still a child, then maybe she’d make a decent Lost Kid. 

Orion flew around London off-and-on for about an Earth year (which felt more like a week or so, in Neverland), keeping an eye open for this girl called Wyn. It was the ginger hair that helped, as one day a mane of ginger hair caught his eye, and he followed it home to an entire ginger-haired family -- a poor clan called the Weasleys. 

The mane of ginger hair Orion had seen belonged to the eldest of the Weasley children, a twelve-year-old named Bill, who had just finished up with his job as a newsboy, making deliveries for a late-night newspaper route. After he bounced his infant sister Ginny up and down in his lap for a while to make her stop fussing, he immediately set about telling his younger brothers -- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron -- all about his (in Orion’s opinion) perfectly boring day. Orion took stock around the room and, after seeing nothing but boys, was about ready to give up and look somewhere else when Bill asked his brothers about where someone named “Carey” was. The second-eldest brother Charlie responded with a mischievous smile.

“Just give a listen, and you'll know.”

And when everyone quieted, Orion likewise saw what Charlie meant. A voice was singing from somewhere upstairs -- a song that Orion had never heard, and yet contained a word he never would’ve ever thought he’d hear in London --

“Neverland.”

Immediately interested, Orion flew up toward the upstairs window, which had been left ajar. Somewhere in the next room, he heard the little bird-like voice singing, only being able to make out some select words. 

“When there’s a smile in your heart...there’s no better time to start...”

The voice was moving down the hall. Orion felt the urge to try to sneak inside the house, but the girl’s singing being interrupted by a woman’s more maternal speaking voice made Orion falter, hiding just out of sight beside the window. It was Mrs. Weasley, Bill’s mother, telling the girl -- Carewyn -- to go ahead and leave the rest of the mending for tomorrow, since it was almost time for supper.

Carewyn, Orion realized as he heard the little girl dash away down the stairs. The pirate called Jack had said there was more to the name he remembered, once. “Wyn” had to have once been “Carewyn.”

Unfortunately for Orion, although he himself was hidden beside the window, his shadow, cast in the light of the streetlamps down onto the window ledge, was not -- and Mrs. Weasley, startled at what looked like something peeking into their window, immediately rushed over and shut it. Orion, alarmed himself at the abrupt slamming of the window, tore off into the night -- leaving his shadow trapped between the closed window and the sill. 

It wasn’t until that evening, when Carewyn, Charlie, and Bill were getting ready for bed that Carewyn caught an odd squeaking sound coming from the window of the bedroom she shared with Bill and Charlie. It was, as it turned out, Orion’s shadow, which -- after Mrs. Weasley had left -- had started contorting and writhing in an attempt to escape from its place trapped under the windowpane. Upon finding the window locked for some strange reason, Carewyn enlisted Bill’s help in undoing the latch -- as soon as the shadow was free, he catapulted around the room, flying all over the walls with reckless abandon and stumbling over the shadow of everything in the room, even slapping the walls as if looking for something. Charlie and Bill both tried to catch it before the noise it made could alert their parents or younger siblings -- Charlie finally managed to snag his ankle when he jumped up high enough on his bed and yanked the shadow down with all of his strength so that Bill could grab onto him too. Carewyn, who’d refrained from trying to grab the shadow largely out of the desire not to hurt it, instead tried to reassure him. 

“It’s terrified, can’t you see that?” she cried at Charlie and Bill at one point. “Why, a shadow isn’t meant to be completely alone -- and in a house full of strangers, no less!”

“It was stuck in our window, Carey,” said Charlie rather dryly. “I reckon we’re past being ‘strangers.’”

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, nor the person he belongs to!” huffed Carewyn. 

Despite Carewyn’s instinct to coddle him, the Shadow Without an Owner was indeed too wild to be left to its own devices. Throughout that night and into the next morning, the shadow kept darting around the room, crashing into different shadows that in turn made the objects attached to them wobble or even fall over. At one point he even knocked over and almost broke the old table lamp by the armchair. It made all three children worry that the shadow was going to get them in a lot of trouble, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley found it -- but at the same time, all three of them weren’t sure if they wanted to share him with the two adults in the house. The shadow seemed incredibly reluctant to be seen, disappearing completely from view whenever Mr. or Mrs. Weasley popped up. 

“He’s afraid of them,” said Carewyn, her voice full of empathy and concern.

Bill tried to offer the shadow a reassuring smile. “Aw, now, you really don’t have to be...Mum and Dad are great! I’m sure they’d be happy to help you, if you -- ”

But the Shadow Without an Owner stubbornly crossed his arms and settled himself down on top of the shadow of Charlie’s headboard with his legs and arms both crossed. He was not going to accept help from any grown-ups. 

It was soon decided that Carewyn would look after the shadow while Bill was on his newsboy route and Charlie was at the canning factory. Since Mr. Weasley would be at work and Mrs. Weasley would be largely kept busy with two-year-old Ron and one-year-old Ginny, it was generally Percy and Carewyn’s responsibility to look after Fred and George and help Mrs. Weasley with the chores. And since Carewyn knew there was a lot of mending still to do, she decided she could take all of it upstairs and work on it in her, Charlie, and Bill’s room so that she could keep an eye on the Shadow Without an Owner. 

The shadow -- who Carewyn had started just calling “Shadow,” since she didn’t know its owner’s name -- was quite restless, being stuck in one room the whole day. It kept skipping across the tiny bedroom, fluttering from the windowsill to the wall and back. It was peculiar to Carewyn that this shadow seemed to have no sense of gravity -- she had heard plenty of stories from her mother about an island where people could fly with a single thought, but she was sensible enough of a child to presume they were only stories, meant to cheer people up where they were sad. 

Eventually Carewyn felt enough pity for the restlessly fidgeting Shadow that she offered to sing him a song or two, to help pass the time.

“I like to sing whenever I’m doing my chores for Mrs. Weasley,” she explained. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but...maybe it might cheer you up, since you’re stuck inside?”

To her surprise, Shadow seemed immediately interested. He skipped over the shadows of all three of the children’s beds over to the shadow of the armchair next to her. It hovered on the wall over the chair for a moment before it flopped down onto its stomach on top of the armchair’s shadow, its focus down toward her. 

Smiling despite herself, Carewyn started to sing for Shadow.

“Think of a wonderful thought -- any merry little thought... Think of Christmas -- think of snow --  Think of sleigh bells...off you go, Like reindeer in the sky... You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

Shadow seemed captivated. He actually crossed his translucent arms and leaned his head down on them to listen, his feet absently kicking behind him, while Carewyn sang as she sewed. When Carewyn was done with one song, she’d start another, and Shadow would listen to all of them. The ones he seemed to like best, though, were the ones her mother Lane had taught her and Jacob, so long ago. The ones about that beautiful, make-believe land that had once captivated her and Jacob’s dreams. 

Carewyn put down the blanket she’d finished patching up to look up at Shadow. His hands were clasped together as he watched her. Although he had no eyes or expression, Carewyn sensed he was considering her carefully.

“You like the songs about Neverland, don’t you?” she asked him at last. 

Shadow nodded. 

“My mum taught them to me,” Carewyn explained. “She used to sing them for my brother Jacob and me, when we were little...and then Jacob used to sing them for me, after Mum...”

The memory of her mother sick in the hospital, and of Jacob squeezing her tight in his shaking arms in a vain attempt to shield her from her grief, made Carewyn’s heart hurt. She brushed the end of her sentence away and put on her bravest face. 

“Bill and Charlie like them too,” she said pleasantly. “Percy, Fred and George too, though Percy tries to act like they’re silly, sometimes. And Fred and George are kind of like you -- they’re more the sorts to want to get into mischief than just stay quietly indoors.”

She giggled behind her hand. 

“Ginny likes them too... though I reckon it’s just because she likes attention, period, at the moment -- being a baby.”

Shadow seemed a little restless again. Carewyn surmised that he was losing interest -- but, she supposed, considering he couldn’t properly talk, conversations were bound to be less engaging for him. 

“Mum had this pretty lullaby she used to sing for Jacob and me,” she offered. “She said she forgot the real words a long time ago, but the melody stayed with her enough that she sang it anyway. Do you want to hear it?”

Shadow’s head popped up, interested again, and he nodded. Carewyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed hard enough, she could hear her mother’s voice, singing it too...

“Once upon a time and long ago, I heard someone singing soft and low. Now, when day is done and night is near, I recall a song I used to hear -- ‘My child, my very own, Don't be afraid -- you're not alone... Sleep until the dawn, for all is well.’ Long ago, this song was sung to me... Now it's just a distant melody, Somewhere from the past I used to know, Once upon a time and long ago...”

Shadow actually seemed to settle down, leaning his head down on his folded arms again. When she was finished, he stayed still for a long time -- so long, in fact, that she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. After several minutes, though, Carewyn realized that Shadow was actually hugging himself tighter, hiding his face under his arms. 

“Shadow?” said Carewyn, concerned.

Shadow raised his head, looking right at her. Once again Carewyn got the feeling he was examining her closely. Then, hovering weightlessly down off the armchair, it settled itself down on the wall behind her beside her shadow, crossing his legs and holding his own hands. 

Carewyn tilted her head, looking over the shadow with pity in her eyes. 

“...You feel lonely,” she murmured, “don’t you?”

Shadow didn’t answer. His focus was down on his clasped hands. 

Taking the lack of response as good enough of one, Carewyn adjusted her knees under her, smoothing out the skirt of her one nice dress, and looked up at the ceiling. 

“It’s okay if you do,” she said softly. “Everybody feels lonely sometimes. And...well, I s’pose being without your person must be very sad. I’ve never been without my shadow.”

Her eyes grew a little smaller and sadder.

“But...I do know what missing someone feels like...it feels awful.”

Shadow didn’t move. Considering her own shadow on the wall and then Shadow carefully, Carewyn tentatively brought a hand out so that her shadow’s hand ended up on top of Shadow’s clasped hands in his lap.

Shadow immediately bolted up off the ground in alarm, hovering in mid-air over her. It felt like he was staring. Carewyn likewise tensed up when he quickly retreated. 

“I’m sorry!” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Shadow put his hands on his hips, almost looking faintly offended by the suggestion. He wasn’t frightened. Startled, maybe, but not frightened. 

Carewyn felt herself smiling wryly despite herself. “Well, you did kind of react like a scared cat, just now!”

Shadow’s hands clasped in front of him and he leaned forward, looking down upon the smaller girl with an almost snarky posture. 

Carewyn giggled behind her hand again. 

“I must wonder, Shadow -- is the person you belonged to as odd as you are?”

Despite the dryness of the question, her eyes betrayed some genuine fondness as she returned to her sewing. 

“Tender shepherd, tender shepherd...let me help you count your sheep...”

Somehow Carewyn managed to entertain Shadow that entire day until Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley returned from work that evening. Shadow even managed to stay a bit more subdued afterwards, only knocking over one table before Bill, Charlie, and Carewyn came up to bed for the night. When Mrs. Weasley came into the room to bid them goodnight (and Shadow hid behind the armchair to avoid being seen), she once again latched the window, instructing Bill to leave it closed that night. She hadn’t told Bill about the strange shape she’d seen at the open window the previous night, for fear of frightening him, Charlie and Carewyn -- a decision with some logic behind it, though she regretted it for quite a while afterwards. 

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s words, however, Carewyn immediately got up and unlocked the window anyhow. 

“Shadow’s owner might come back looking for him!” said Charlie when Bill tried to argue the point. 

Carewyn nodded, shooting a look at Shadow, who had settled himself on the windowsill as if waiting. 

“Your mum said to keep it closed,” she said stubbornly. “She never said we had to keep it locked.”

And so Shadow waited patiently by the window as the three ginger-haired children slowly fell off to sleep. It was just after midnight that there was movement outside the window again, and the Shadow Without an Owner leapt up seeing his other half -- the Boy Without a Shadow -- on the other side of the glass. Flying beside Orion was a pink-eyed pixie with yellowish-green wings bathed in sparkling gold light. 

 Orion fixed his shadow with a faintly resigned expression. 

“You’re in a right pickle, aren’t you, my shadow?” he murmured.

Shadow’s shoulders fell noticeably as Merula shook her finger at him, her voice a huffy tinkling of bells. 

“You’d better not have let anyone see you!” she scolded.  

Orion reached out and gave the window a light pull. To his relief, it was unlocked, and he pulled it the rest of the way up so he and Merula could fly inside. 

Merula at once set about exploring the room, landing on a pile of folded, patched-up clothes next to a modest stack of old stuffed animals. 

“What a dump,” she scoffed. 

She gave a light kick to one of the teddy bear’s noses. The kick, however light, nonetheless was enough to bring the teddy bear down on her, making the fairy jingle in frustration. 

Orion idly lifted the teddy bear off of her without even looking at her, instead focusing on his shadow. Illuminated once again by the streetlamps outside the Weasley home, Shadow immediately darted further back into the room, hovering just over Carewyn’s bed and pointing frenetically. 

"I know,” said Orion. “That would be the ‘Wyn.’ The one who sings like a bird.”

Shadow settled himself down on top of Carewyn’s headboard, looking down at her as she slept. 

Orion frowned slightly upon his shadow. 

“...You like her, then?” he asked lowly. 

Shadow nodded. 

Merula crossed her arms huffily, looking down at the girl with active disdain. “Look at her, though! She’s got the wrinkles -- those of knowing solemn things. She’s way too old to take...” 

Orion took a few steps forward and considered the sleeping ginger-haired girl in the bed. 

She was indeed as small as the pirate called Jack had said -- smaller than her age would suggest, Orion thought. She already had these little wrinkles kissing the corners of her lips, and yet they were a peculiar kind of wrinkles. They weren’t wrinkles of age, per say -- instead there was something almost warm, about them...like the kind of wrinkles a well-loved teddy bear has. It didn’t make her look tired or resigned like so many adults did, but rather oddly resilient. The girl wasn’t smiling in her sleep, and yet she still slept peacefully. Her dreams no doubt weren’t as carefree as Orion would like -- but they were not the dreams of a grown-up, either. There was still some weightlessness there, especially since this family she was with wasn’t even hers. She’d still likely be able to fly...

“...She’ll do,” Orion said at last. 

“What?!” said Merula, taken aback. 

Orion’s voice was very lackadaisical, but his eye remained on Shadow, who seemed oddly pleased by his decision. He even brought a translucent hand down and -- very tentatively -- patted the top of the girl’s own shadow’s head. It was a gesture that made Merula look at him with bewilderment. 

“What are you doing, she’s not some little puppy dog for you to coddle!” she jingled at Shadow irritably. 

“Come now, my shadow,” Orion said stridently. “Must work out how to restore our balance, before we set about making our proposition to this ‘Carewyn.’”

Shadow quickly bolted up and away from the sleeping Carewyn, looking almost sheepish. Orion glanced around the room, before his eyes settled on a drawer. Striding over, he opened it and ruffled through its contents until he found a bunch of sewing supplies, including a collection of buttons. 

Aha. This might do.

Unfortunately buttons were indeed not what was needed, to properly restore a shadow. Orion tried to work them out several times, to no avail, but since the poor boy knew nothing about how buttons were fixed on to begin with, he couldn’t figure out how he could “button” his shadow to him the way two sides of a shirt could. Orion and Merula also tried several other things in the drawer, like some spare ribbon -- but since he naturally couldn’t tie his shadow securely enough to himself, he was left only with a bar of soap he found by the nearby basin, which he tried to use to stick his shadow on. 

After about an half-hour of failures, Orion was starting to get anxious. What if he never got his shadow back on? Would he be stuck without a shadow forever? Would he have to chase after his shadow forever, the way his shadow used to for him? Would his shadow even be able to follow him back to Neverland, if there were no lights that would maintain his form? Would he be trapped here in London forever -- in this house forever?

“Orion?” Merula tinkled uncomfortably. 

Orion actually found his eyes welling up with tears, though he tried to force them back. 

He didn’t know what to do -- what was he supposed to do...?

A very quiet gasp from the bed caught Orion’s attention. Stiffening like a cat, he shot to his feet, his black eyes very wide.

Sitting up in bed was the little ginger-haired girl called Carewyn. Her eyes were very wide, almond-shaped and china blue -- the same shade, Orion realized, as those of the pirates back in Neverland.

The same shade as Captain Hook’s eyes...

And yet those eyes welled up with so much compassion upon meeting Orion’s. 

“Oh,” she whispered, looking from the soap in his hand to up to his face. “Oh, please...please, boy, please don’t cry.”

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 11 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

*

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

*****

Azriel's heart sank, and he shoved Nesta to the side, knocking both her and Cassian out of the way as a bolt of power shot down the stairs. A slow clap sounded while Azriel glanced around, another way out, there had to be one,

"It seems the bird got out of the cage. Such a shame it'll never fly free." Azriel waved a hand subtly at Nesta, and she froze, his brother's attention was still fixed on him, if she moved, Azriel didn't want to think what would happen if he decided to really use that killing power. Get back in your cage." The door to his cell swung open, and Azriel fixed his brother with a glare, shadows gathering around him,

"You know what, I don't think I will." He leaped forwards, pressing himself against the wall beside the staircase, green light rushing past moments later. The back exit, where was it?

Find another exit.

Shadows raced off in all directions, and Azriel waited, in a few moments his brother would lose his patience, and, shit. Footsteps on stone, he rolled forwards, shielding Cassian and Nesta, his wings spread wide to take the brunt of any attack. Weapon, he needed a weapon, or at least a shield of some sort. He had seconds before his brother located them, even with the shadows cloaking him from sight. A second set of footsteps joined the first, lighter, more cautious. Azriel sent shadows flying for that second figure, and dodged the immediate blast of power from his brother, letting it shoot over his head. The second guard stumbled backwards, and yelped when Azriel slammed into him, twisting the pommel of his sword out of his grip, and swiping the dagger from his belt.

At a glance, Nesta was trying to drag Cassian away, down the corridor,

Behind them, all the way down, there's a way out.

"Run!" He bellowed, and tossed Nesta the dagger, taking up a defensive position to slow the guards starting to return to the dungeons. Nesta grunted behind him, she was still too close, and Cassian said something, too quietly for Azriel to make out the words, but the urgency was obvious,

"No," Nesta sobbed, "I can't," she repeated over and over, she couldn't leave him, Azriel dared a glance over his shoulder, and cursed at the sight of more guards blocking their exit. If she were alone, Nesta could escape, but convincing her to leave Cassian, no, she would never do it.

Even armed, even with his shadows darting around, disorienting his enemies, attacking them, there were too many of them. This was it. He was going to die here.

Azriel was forced backwards, until he was stood back to back with Nesta, Cassian struggling to rise to his feet between them. Azriel dropped a hand onto his shoulder,

"It's been an honor, brother."

*****

Gwyn set the bedside table down, right where the old one had sat, and glanced around the room, the same, but different, altogether too new, unused. She sank onto the bed, and the shadow came to rest in her lap,

"I miss them," It shuffled and swirled up her arm, nestling against her cheek, "Do you miss him? Of course you do, thank you for staying with me." Even with him gone, a little part of Azriel would always be with her so long as the shadow remained. The room was exactly as it had been only a few days prior, but so different, so un-Azriel somehow, maybe it was just that he wasn't there any more, even his scent was fading with the old furniture having been removed. Gwyn squeezed his jacket tighter around herself, and closed her eyes.

"Someone's there!" Mor's voice echoed through the House, "Gwyn?"

"Here!"

"Nuala just got back, someone is at that old keep, we don't know who but-" Gwyn was already moving, already sprinting for her room, collecting her weapons on an instinct. She sighed as she switched Azriel's jacket for her own, his was way too big, she'd never be able to fight properly, let alone quietly in it, no, she had to wear her own. She left it on her bed as she ran back to Mor,

"When do we leave?"

Rhysand had winnowed her with him out to the keep, and Mor had complained bitterly at being left behind, but Gwyn could move and fight silently, and only one person was likely to be able to get in. Rhysand had brought her because he knew the layout of the keep, at least in theory, if it was anything like the others built at the same time, he knew the layout. But he would have to guide her from outside, mentally.

Gwyn took one final, shuddering breath, and let him in,

Breathe,

She did, slowing her breaths, stilling her mind, panic was no good now. She was the rock against which the surf crashes. She was a Valkyrie. She was Gwyneth Berdara, and she would not be afraid.

The keep itself was almost silent, only the echoing of far-off footsteps and the candles and torches along the wall proved that she wasn't alone.

Okay, go left here,

Gwyn pressed herself against the wall, and dared a quick glance down the corridor, one guard, facing away from her. She stepped into the corridor, keeping to the shadowy places along the wall, her footsteps muffled by her shadow, well, Azriel's shadow. The guard didn't turn around until she was right behind him, his eyes widening as he drew breath to shout. Gwyn slammed the hilt of her dagger into his temple, and his eyes rolled back as he collapsed. Gwyn made sure to catch him, and lowered him slowly to the floor, avoiding the clatter of his armor on the stone.

Rhysand guided her deeper into the keep, she met few guards, too few, something was wrong.

How many guards should there be?

It depends, but you should have met at least ten by now.

There's been four.

Four?

Yeah.

He waited a while to respond, as if he were trying to decide something, probably whether to tell her to get out of there,

That's not normal, you know that?

I'm not leaving without them.

Be on your guard.

There were no more guards until Gwyn heard the clash of metal on metal, and almost launched into a run. The corridor she'd been walking down lit up more and more with each step, until she found a stairway,

That should take you to the dungeons, be careful.

I will.

She sent the shadow to check if it was safe, and it flew back to her almost immediately, both trying to go back down, and back the way she had come. It was torn between protecting her and Azriel, he was down there, he had to be. If the shadow wanted her to run, something was wrong, she had to move, now.

The dungeon was filled with guards, there were three at the base of the stairs, and too many to count beyond that. Gwyn couldn't fight her way through,

There's too many, I can't see them,

Wait.

I can't.

Gwyn. Wait. I'm on my way, the way you came is clear. Wait for me.

She should wait, but she couldn't, Azriel was there, Nesta was there, Cassian was there, if she waited, every lost second could spell their doom. She glanced around, torches, there were torches along the wall. She tugged experimentally on one, it didn't budge, she put more weight onto it, and pulled herself up, climbing over the guards' heads. She braced herself to fall, waiting for a few heartbeats, but the torch's stand held strong, she leaped to the next one, almost slipping, but the clashing of blades covered the sound. She scrambled up, moving to the next one, and the next. They were only a couple of feet apart, but each jump felt like forever. She paused on the next, catching her breath, and reassessed the situation. There, only a few more jumps away, Azriel was back to back with Nesta, guards coming from both sides. She thanked all the gods that the corridor was so narrow, only three guards could attack at once. Azriel stumbled, armed with a sword from one of the fallen guards, and Nesta braced against his weight, helping him regain his feet, her own sword looked heavy, she was tiring. Cassian, where was Cassian? There, on the floor, he blinked, trying to rise, and collapsed again, and Gwyn had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out at the sight of him.

Oh gods, there was so much blood, not all of it was his, of course, but his wings, oh gods, that was bone sticking out of one of them, and that glazed look in his eyes, Gwyn had seen that look before, how he was still trying to fight was beyond her. Even as he stumbled, he said something, and Nesta whirled, slamming her sword into a guard's gut, he was warning her, guiding her blade. That look in his eyes, he knew it, he was still fighting for her, even though, even though Cassian was dying.

Nesta turned, presumably to check on Cassian and Azriel, and let out a sob when she saw Cassian slumped against the wall, unmoving, silent. She was forced to turn away to block a blow from a guard, but Gwyn was close enough that she could just about make out her words,

"Cass, come on, please, you're gonna be okay, please," Her sword arm was shaking, and Azriel moved to cover her as she dropped to her knees beside her mate, holding his face, and begging him to hold on, just a bit longer. Azriel's strength was waning now, he couldn't hold off attacks from two sides for long. One last jump brought Gwyn close enough to finally help. Red misted her vision at the sight of a sword hurtling towards him, right for his exposed back as he handled another guard. Gwyn didn't think, didn't plan, she just moved.

That guard was dead before his sword got anywhere near Azriel, but close enough that Azriel realized how close it had been when he turned, surprise glimmering in his eyes,

"Gwyn? You have to go, leave us, go!"

"I can't." She moved again on an instinct, blocking another blow that Azriel had missed in his shock, "Rhysand's on his way, we just have to hold on until he gets here. We're getting out." Gwyn took up Nesta's position, her fear a metallic tang in the back of her mouth, especially at the rumble of power that rolled through the dungeons. She hardly noticed the shadows around her, darting forwards, helping her with each blow, each enemy, before darting away to Azriel.

They didn't need to speak, each move was together, as one, he moved, she moved, she moved, he moved. Gwyn rolled backwards, Azriel stepped around her to cover her, Azriel stepped sideways, Gwyn whirled to dispatch that enemy. Each movement was easy, fluid, unhurried, Gwyn fell into a familiar headspace, the same as it had been on Ramiel, but this time is wasn't her sisters she was protecting, it was her, whatever Azriel was.

Power rumbled through the dungeons again, and Azriel shoved her sideways against the wall, throwing his wings up around her as dark power tore through the remaining guards. Gwyn gasped, and hid her face against Azriel,

"It's Rhys, it's okay." He released her moments later, "He'll cover our escape, let's go," he looked around again and swore,

"What?"

"Their leader, my half-brother, he's gone, the coward." Azriel grunted as he hauled Cassian to his feet, with Nesta on his other side, half-dragging him the way they had come. Gwyn followed, keeping an eye out for danger, with Cassian almost completely unconscious, neither Azriel or Nesta would be able to carry him and fight, that was Gwyn's job.

"Is he -" Rhysand's eyes widened at the sight of them, of Cassian

"He's alive, just about." Cassian's head was hanging low, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged and shallow.

"Get him out of here." Gwyn ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and nodded, desperately wishing that they would move faster, she had no idea how many guards there might be in total, more might show up at any moment. Adrenaline faded as they made their way out, movements becoming slower, injuries more crippling, so much so that by the time they had made it outside, into the fresh night air, Azriel was dragging a leg behind him, his breathing shallow as he hauled Cassian with him. They had to stop, if they didn't, he'd keel over, and Gwyn had no idea how to go about healing anything. There was a grassy bank a few hundred meters away,

"There, can you make it?" Azriel grunted in response, and Gwyn grabbed Cassian's arm from him, "I'll take over," together, she and Nesta just about managed to carry his unconscious weight to the cover of the bank. It was only when she set him down that Gwyn got a chance to really see the scope of Cassian's injuries. His face was pallid, and far too pale, pale from the blood seeping from his wings mostly, broken almost beyond recognition, a bone sticking out of the right one. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and Gwyn gently ran her hands along his ribs, three, no four, broken, another cracked, possibly more, and then there was the sword wound. Nesta was already pressing her hands against the ragged wound in his side, and Gwyn shrugged off her jacket, "Use this." Nesta nodded, her eyes unseeing, tears flooding down her face.

Azriel hung back, avoiding getting in the way probably, but he was injured too, it was just Nesta that had gotten off lightly, but that was probably why Cassian was as bad as he was, he'd undoubtedly protected her.

"Sit down, Az, honestly." Gwyn had no idea what she could do about Cassian's wings, and the bleeding was slowing, so she could at least do what she could for Azriel. "Is it just that?" She gestured to the wound on his leg, and he just stared straight at her,

"You came."

"Of course I did, did you think I was going to still tight and wait?"

"You shouldn't have. It was dangerous."

"Excuse you, why do you think I'm training?"

"Not to clear up my messes."

"Your mess?" Gwyn blinked in disbelief, "How is this your fault?" Azriel shrugged, and muttered something, just loud enough for her to hear, but no one else,

"It always is." Her heart broke a those words, and she froze,

"It is not." Tears threatened to fall, and she didn't stop them, "You are the bravest male, no, bravest person I've ever met, and you have saved countless lives, avoided countless disasters, the Night Court would be long destroyed without you." She knelt beside him, and cupped his face, "Don't for one second think that, okay?" For perhaps the first time ever, Azriel smiled and muttered,

"Okay."

"Now. Is it just that?" She pointed again at the leg wound,

"Oh. Yeah."A shadow danced around Gwyn's head,

"Liar," she crooned, "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" She raised an eyebrow, "Broken ribs," he admitted, and she groaned,

"Idiot. I can't do anything about the ribs though," She pressed the wound, the bloodflow already slowing with him being still.

Gwyn.

Rhysand's voice tapped against her mind, and she let him in,

Where did you go?

Grassy bank. Hurry up.

Moments later he crested the bank, and jogged the few steps to reach them, Gwyn had finished patching Azriel up, and turned back to Cassian, he still wasn't waking up, but at least the blood had stopped flowing from that sword wound. Nesta was still quietly crying and begging him not to leave her, Rhysand placed a hand on her shoulder, and said something quietly, and she let him pass, his hands hovering over Cassian's right wing, the one with the bone snapped in two. Gwyn moved to Nesta's side, cradling her head against her chest, she had to hold Nesta tight when Cassian screamed as Rhysand's magic forced the bone back to the right position, and sealed the wound,

"You're hurting him!" She screamed, trying to break free of Gwyn's grip,

"He's fixing the bone, he's helping, he's helping," Gwyn muttered, letting Nesta cling on to her as she cried,

"I can't, Gwyn, I can't, I - I need him," she broke off as another sob forced its way out,

"I know, I know, Nes, I know. You're not losing him, you're not, okay?" Nesta nodded, but tears were still streaming down her face, "He's gonna be okay." Cassian screamed again as Rhysand set the other dislocated or fractured bones to where they should sit, and Nesta cried harder with each cry of pain from Cassian, until her whole body was shaking with the sobs. She rushed towards him as soon as Rhysand stopped, cupping his face in her hands, running her gaze across his wings, checking that they were really okay,

"Thank you," she whispered, and noticed his ribs were untouched, but Rhysand pre-empted the question,

"I'm no good at ribs," he admitted, "But we should be able to move him now,"

"Why isn't he waking up?" Nesta demanded, and Rhysand threw his hands up,

"Because he'd be in a lot of pain, so I knocked him out."

"But he'll be okay?" Nesta's usually powerful, commanding voice had fallen quiet, shaky, and her shoulders were shaking as she brushed the hair out of Cassian's face, and softly kissed his brow. Azriel limped his way towards them, holding on to Gwyn as she held Rhysand's hand, while Nesta gripped the other, and braced herself to winnow.

*****

Rhys winnowed them directly into Madja's house, to the room she used to house patients, and shouted for her, apologizing for showing up this late, but she just waved him off, rushing to Cassian's side. Gwyn forced Azriel to sit on the second be in the room, fussing again now that they were safe,

"You're damn lucky, Rhysand, if you'd got this wrong," she gestured to Cassian's wings, "He might not have been able to fly again, as it is, it's not perfect, but I can fix it." She finished fixing his ribs, and bound his wound before crossing to Azriel, and he winced when she re-set his ribs, and bound his own wound, "You can sleep in your own room, Azriel, Cassian stays here, I need to keep an eye on him tonight."

"Will he be okay?" Madja's professional demeanor dropped for a moment as she took Nesta's hands,

"I hope so, he's lost a lot of blood but he's survived this far, so he should make a full recovery, you can stay with him if you like." Nesta nodded,

"Thank you." Madja squeezed her hands,

"Go get some sleep the rest of you, Mother knows you need it.

Rhys winnowed Azriel and Gwyn back to the House before wishing them goodnight and promising to see them in the morning. For a proper debrief  is what he didn't need to add. Gwyn led Azriel straight back to his room, and pulled out a set of sleeping clothes for him, grabbing a spare shirt and turned around for him to change, she seemed to know that he needed quiet to sort through his own mind, but still wrapped her arms around him, reassuring herself that he was okay, and he held her against him. Azriel didn't miss the fact that she'd just changed into one of his spare shirts, that his scent was all over her, and hers all over him, but it was comforting somehow, just to have someone be that comfortable with him,

"You need to rest," she murmured, and guided him to the bed, pulling herself a chair over, he didn't miss the movement, tried not to think how he had slept in a chair beside her too many nights recently. She had slept in his bed before, but maybe after that nightmare was different than normal, he wouldn't ask her if she wanted to share, she'd probably go back to her bed anyway once he was asleep. Still, his mind emptied when she clasped his hands and brought them to her lips, before leaning against the bed and closing her eyes as he closed his.

Gwyn held his hands all night, and she was still leaning against the bed when Azriel woke the next morning, his head clearer than it had ever been the morning after a return home. She opened her eyes and looked across at him, her eyes full of hope, and leaned closer to brush her lips against his, smiling as she sat up,

"I missed you," she mumbled, "I was so worried, especially when we couldn't find you."

"How did you find us?"

"The shadow." Ah, he'd been wondering if it really had been able to sense the others,

"Thank you, for coming to find me."

"Always," she whispered.

[bonny-kookoo]

Nightlight (PJM x Reader) 💜☁️⚠️🔞👹  Chapter 1

Pairing: Demon!Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Demon!AU, Angst, Possibly triggering content, Fluff/Romance, smut

Warnings: graphic description of violence, panic attacks, graphic description of certain fears and phobias, nightmares, blood, insects, accidents, death, it’s kinda messed up really, mild stalking, demon jimminie be kinda creepy ngl, confused jimin, intercourse with a demon (duh), restriction of movement, sleep paralysis, slight somnophilia, big dick!Jimin but wbk, marking, biting, scratching, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, y’all I’m gonna go to hell for this smh, more to add as the story progresses

Summary: The nightlight he once gave you with a smile always kept the nightly terrors of his pale and lifeless face at bay, giving you at least mild comfort in a time spend without his soothing touch. But when you’re admitted to the hospital due to an accident, there is no light to keep your thoughts safe from terror. Luckily for you, the demon responsible for your vacation between hand sanitizer and itchy sheets actually feels bad for once; and decides to help you out.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part ?

Watching the clock tick away as every second passed didn't seem like a good hobby- yet it had become your main source of distraction nowadays.

Every moment you'd look at the clock, eyes focused on the small pointer going round after round was a reminder that the world didn't stop spinning even for a moment. That the world didn't care about someone's misery or happiness.

At his funeral, the sun had been shining too. The weather had been disgustingly nice, making birds sing their songs of gratitude in their trees, and children run in their home's yards, laughing away, unknowing of the tragedy that befell you and him. You remembered how hot it had been, how angry you've been- how could the world just continue on without any form of sadness for him?

He wasn't supposed to die so soon. You both just moved in together into a small apartment he'd rented after his work had given him a promotion, talked about maybe adopting a cat together, and started to think about settling down. Yet destiny had been cruel, taking him away from you just because it could. It had been two horrible changes of seasons since the day you had to watch him get buried six foot deep.

And you haven't been the same since.

Barely talking at all, simply existing as you buried yourself under the covers of your once shared bed, desperately trying to hold onto every scent, every trace that he'd been alive, but soon enough his body was just a mere memory, fading away like the scent on his shirts you wore at night to keep you sane.

The nightlight he'd bought you to help you with your insomnia and nightly terrors helped you a little- it felt like a small glimpse of hope in the corner of your room, no matter how childish it may seemed to the people around you. You'd long cut ties with former friends anyways, not wanting to be seen by anyone anymore.

You just wanted to be left alone.

Tiredly walking towards the stairs to get yourself a glass of water, you failed to notice the figure standing in your kitchen, eyeing the furniture and unwashed dishes in the sink with not much interest. He studied your form, pale and sad, as you simply shoved the ceramic plates a bit to make space so you could fill your glass up, uncaring of anything.

He was interested.

Humans like you, so broken and consumed by tragedy most of the time had the most delicious dreams he could think of- the deeply scarring emotions drowning your soul in heart wrenching thoughts and visions. He truly loved these- even though he preferred dreams of fear and terror.

As he followed you upstairs, silently, something inside him made him raise his eyebrow. He stopped at your bedroom door, hesitant, as if something was holding him back. Memories of a young couple playfully fighting played in front of him, two lovers falling into the bed, getting tangled in the sheets with feelings of euphoria- and he suddenly found himself at your bedside, watching you.

Your eyes suddenly opened, as you saw a figure looming over you, dark and menacing, its presence making the room feel stuffy and tight, as you could only watch, not move. Your body was frozen, not reacting to anything you told it, as the figure stepped closer, hands slowly creeping around your neck, increasing pressure as you heard it sigh out in pleasure. You could feel your fingers start to tingle, oxygen unable to enter your lungs, before you could suddenly breath again.

The figure yelped as if burned, falling back and pushing down the clock from your bedside table, breaking the glass front of it. You finally got up, scrambling out of bed in a hurry, tripping over your charging cable for your phone, before you stared at the shadowy figure in your room, breathing heavily.

It was hunched over, gasping for air itself as you slowly found a speck of pity in your heart, making you reach out your hand, as if to prove yourself that it was real.

Everything after was a blur, scenes happening too quickly to comprehend them properly inside your head.

A Hand pushed against your chest, the body moving, forcing you to walk backwards until he pushed with another boost of force- successfully making the glass of your window shatter, your body flying out of it, right into the rosebushes beneath your window, planted by your landlady to 'brighten up the visual appearance of the complex'.

The only thing you remembered after that was the pain and the shadow, making you close your eyes.

"Miss, are you awake?" The nurse asked, soft voice making you open your eyes. "Welcome back miss. You took quite the fall. Good thing someone found you." She said, checking your vitals as you simply stared ahead.

You weren't dead.

It should be something good, it should please you to know that you survived, but instead, it made your mouth taste stale, and your throat clog up. The nurse carried on, leaving the room after a moment. You knew she didn't care. She was only doing her job.

A look to the side told you that it was late- only some lights of other rooms of the hospital lighting up the outside, curtains pulled shut. It was dark in your room.

Too dark.

Your breathing increased as the shadows started to morph into heads, animals, and monsters; anything your mind could come up with. You could feel the bile raising in your throat, sour taste on your tongue making you swallow desperately, head whipping from left to right to find something to light the room up, but finding nothing. Your whimpers seemed to echo inside the room, making you feel awfully pathetic as you could only watch as the monsters- dissipated?

They vanished as a gentle glow flooded the room, originating from a figure behind the hospital curtains, shadow showing a seemingly male figure clad in unknown robes. You swallowed.

"Ah, the daughter of eve fears the dark?" He sing-songed, almost mockingly as the curtains moved a bit with the fresh air flowing into the room. You stared at him or more like his silhouette, as you whispered in a wavering voice.

"What are you?"

He chuckled, a breathy sound that didn't feel threatening. "Ah, she is smart however. She knows I am of a different kind." He said, voice low and rumbly, yet with an almost feminine tune to it. It reminded you of your lover, in a sense- yet his voice sounded nothing like his at the same time. "I am the fourth son of Rosier, a former Angel now residing in what you humans call hell." He stated, as if he was simply telling you how nice the weather would be tomorrow. So if he was the son of a fallen angel, was he-

"So you're.. a demon?" You asked, voice still almost only a whisper. He chuckled at your voice.

"Not quite, but it serves as a good definition for your kind. My heritage is quite.. difficult to explain, I'll admit." He mumbled, moving his head a little to the side. You couldn't make out his features at all, the only thing serving as a hint to his physique being the light accentuating his shadow.

"Why.. why are you here?" You asked, and he moved his arms a little, the sound of fabric moving the only noise for a moment.

"Ah, you really are smart. I usually hear the question of what I desire from someone- yet there is not really anything a human could offer to me I could have use of." He said with a humored undertone. He continued as you stayed silent. "I believe there has been an.. incident that should not have happened, and I am the one at fault."

"So you came to.. apologize?"

He clapped his hands, making you jump a little. "My my, why do you sound so surprised?" He asked, voice growing a bit more hostile. "I am not an angel full of itself because of its purity. My kind may be known to be quite tumultuous and.. unconventional, yet we do have our standards and pride." He said, leaning against the wall next to the window.

"I see." You simply said, and he didn't answer for a moment. You felt like you were being watched, observed even. You cleared your throat before asking. "Why.. why did you, you know.. throw me?"

He sighed. "I was not born with a body like your kind is. I have to.. lend or take one for myself." He said, and you nodded, unknowing if he could see you properly. It seemed like he did, because he took your gesture as a silent way of telling him to continue. "I have only recently acquired this body. For your standards of time, at least.Your planet spins faster in a year than my own world would consider a full change of seasons." He said.

"So you.. know what happened to him? Like.. the body's actual owner, I mean."

Running a hand through his hair, he answered you, though with mild hesitation in his tone. “Sometimes.. memories remain. What we do with them is up to us.” He said lowly, his voice so familiar, yet also nothing like a voice you’ve heard before in your lifetime. "He left this world with quite a dramatic final, I admit. I do not know details, however. He is.. keeping them from me. Which is fair, considering I did take without asking." Whoever was hiding behind those hospital curtains made your head spin in confusion, as you tried to pin point what exactly was happening.

There was a demon in your hospital room. Not only that, but this demon was drowning the entire room in a soft and gentle glow, prohibiting the natural shadows of all the furniture and items placed on their respective spots to turn into terrifying monsters ready to haunt your time of rest and healing. But for some reason his presence made your blood flow calmly in your veins, soft noises from the opened window making your eyelids close.

You could feel him come closer, notice how the mattress dipped a bit where he leaned to loom over you. “Rest. I’ll keep them away from you.” He murmured, a cool hand touching your forehead as you drifted off, not being able to catch the confused and frustrated face of the demon who was watching you.

How strong must this man have felt for you if even after his death he harbored those emotions inside those veins he’d decided to possess and claim as his own? His soul has long left this body, yet it seemed like pieces of him still remained, forcing its claws between his will, and leading him down a path he'd rather not take.

Sitting on a bench, only light a streetlamp illuminating the park around you, you finally felt alone. It may sound like this should be an upsetting feeling, but after a week of constant hovering of others, nurses and patients alike, it finally felt like you could breathe again. That was, until you felt a presence behind you.

"Do not lift your gaze." He said, as he walked around the bench to sit beside you, the only visible thing now his shoes up to his thighs, decorative and expensive robes in silvery and dark colors, accentuated with thin golden patterns. You admittedly expected something more.. cliche. Like a black suit, maybe. "You have yet to recover fully." He murmured, crossing his legs before resting his arms on the backrest of the bench. "Why did you leave?" He questioned, referring to your decision to leave the hospital against doctors advice.

You fiddled with your fingers, before sighing. "I couldn't take the lies and masks around me." You said, and he hummed.

"Ah, yes." he chuckled before he continued. "That nurse was quite.. envious of your bodily features, I've noticed. And one of the male patients had been quite fond of you as well." He said, and you raised your eyebrows, scoffing. He looked down at you, amused. "What? My kind cannot lie, if it makes my words more trustful for you." He said, and you chuckled.

"Well.." You started, before stretching your legs a little bit in front of you. "I'm not much to look at." You said, and he clicked his tongue.

"Hm.. Who is speaking untruthful now?" He said with humor in his tone. "You are quite visually pleasing to look at, if I may say so. I cannot imagine what you may look like without the draining burden of sorrow and hurt." He spoke, a hand carefully tracing a stray strand of hair, before you chuckled. The sound was good, he decided. He would make you laugh more.

"Thank you." You said, and he simply hummed a reply.

It was quiet for a moment, before you told him your name. He, again, only hummed a wordless reply.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you mine in exchange." He said, and you nodded, understanding.

You didn't need it anyways.

He slowly started to become a regular guest at your home. You had started to move away your lover's things as summer passed outside your windows, trying to mend your broken self together piece by piece with the Demon's help here and there. He distracted you when things got overwhelming, spending time with you and keeping you in touch with the world outside your walls. You had also started to work again. A simple job at a restaurant, washing dishes, nothing special. But it paid the bills, and it gave you something to do during the day.

A distraction, if you will.

This time when you came home however, his eyes widened at how you immediately fell to your knees, crying desperate tears into your hands. He didn't ask what happened, simply walking over to you, putting a hand on your head- a gesture he'd learned during his time with humans, a simple touch that was meant to bring comfort. Yet it also helped him to look into your thoughts, and see the situation that had occurred during your day at work, making his blood buzz inside his veins.

He could see how you were working, not participating in the chatter of the cooks and waitresses around you, until they started to make fun of you. Calling you names, laughing about your job, your clothing, your stand in society he guessed. It all went as far as to the simple moment a waitress let a plate fall, giggling at your desperate try to catch it before it could hit the floor. She did it again and again, plate after plate, until a chef made her stop, chuckling himself as he led her away, leaving you to clean up the mess, and deal with the harsh words of your boss that night.

Carrying you upstairs he laid you down on your bed, pulling the sheets over your body before vanishing in a simply cloud of black smoke.

Oh, this would be fun.

He was getting quite hungry anyways.

He watched from afar, as the waitress in question walked past her bedroom window before shutting down the lights, most likely preparing for sleep. That was his moment.

Fear was an interesting thing to him. Not only because he fed off of it like most Demons did, but because he loved how fears told him almost everything he needed to know about a specific person. The simple instinct that tormented humans during their time of rest told him stories of their deepest desires and secrets-giving him all the power he needed to rule over them during the night.

But this time, he didn't care about that.

He'd observed her already, knowing how narcissistic she was. The small vanity full of expensive makeup showed him her insecurity of her visual image towards others- a truly childish fear in his opinion. Yet it did give him enough to play with already.

Diving into her sleep, she didn't notice his intentions at all, simply watching him as he'd sat down in the corner of her room, casually lounging in her chair placed on that spot. She smirked, as if he was her property, and he smiled back, yet with a vicious intend behind his eyes, hidden from her sight, her instincts clouded by her own desires. "Ah, jesus, haven't had a dream like that in a while." She said, getting up to sit on his lap, making him smirk at her. He knew the effect he had on humans- the body he'd chosen quite attractive already, yet his own natural aura enhanced its beauty even more, giving him a tempting charm. It worked on her just as well as it did on others, and maybe that was why he'd been hiding his face from your gaze all along. This young woman was.. basic in every way he could think of. Nothing about her peaked his interest as it did with you- a fact that should be worrying him. Yet he decided to eat first.

She started to rudely push her hands in between the fabric of his robes, making him grasp her wrists with a predatory grin. If she noticed that something was off, she didn't mention it, as she grew even more happy at the fact he was trying to control her. Humans were so fond and protective of their dreams, loving the way that they thought they had full control over everything that happened. It made nightmares the more terrifying for them. "Feisty. Love that." She murmured, and he placed his hand on her cheek, making her raise her eyebrows.

"Oh how ugly you are."

He sang with a voice playful and mocking, as she widened her eyes, trying to get off of him. "Ah-ah, where do you wanna go now? You chose your seat, yet now you want to take back your decision?" He said, gripping her waist as she gasped in pain, heart rate surely increasing as she began to sweat. His smile widened as his hands dug into her skin, surely leaving bruises as she whined out, not yet where he wanted her yet. "Feisty- love that." He mused impishly, his eyes slowly drowning in black, oozing out shadows as his pupils glowed a vibrant red, a fire behind them it seemed.

The young woman squirmed on his lap, desperation calling out to her in her veins, making her try and scratch him- yet instead of blood, she only found black ink on her hands, making her wipe them furiously as she noticed ants crawling up her legs. She began to breath heavily, eyes widening, as he laughed at her pathetic attempt to push away, his hand now gripping her jaw. "what do you think, whore?" He mused, voice distorted by an unknown force she didn't want to understand, her eyes leaking tears to no end as she realized how this was out of her control. "Ah, she is empty already. How boring." He said, letting her fall onto her back, coughing violently as she ran to her bedside table, trying to find something in it. Yet he was already behind her, forcing her body in front of her vanity mirror as he had her hair in his fist, forcefully pulling on it as if it was a handle to use, her eyes closed as she chanted to wake up. He laughed, before he spoke his words. "Look ahead, stupid child. Do you still think your disgusting words make you more appealing?" He said, as she opened her eyes;

waking up screaming louder than she'd ever did before.

With bruises ever so present.

The demon was in a good mood these days.

Maybe you just imagined things, but he felt more carefree around you, simply lounging on your couch as if he owned the place- and you didn't mind him doing that at all. He was nice company after all.

He joked around with you, asked you things, and seemed genuinely interested in you as a person; you felt as if you both got closer the more you conversed.

He noticed your dreams, yet never interfered to this night, as the nightlight broke in your room, darkness drowning your dreams in terror and war. You sobbed in your sleep, and his nonexistent heart clenched at the sight- the force inside his veins however didn't have anything to do with him joining your dreams, however. No, this was all his own decision this time.

Your dreams were.. a feast, to be exact. For him, it felt like he was at a buffet, ready to pack his plate until he was filled to the brim- yet the curled up form of your body, tormented by shadows and fiends, he sighed. He couldn't feed off of you. His own pride didn't allow it.

He considered you something humans called a 'friend', yet the desire he'd started to develop speaking different words, his own fantasies not so saint as yours.

But for now, he pushed these rabid thoughts away from his mind, crouching down next to you, embracing you into his arms for the first time, your sobs dying down as you noticed who it was shielding the darkness. Your hands grabbed onto the expensive looking fabrics he wore, trying to get even closer to him than you already were, while you calmed down, whispers and shouts around you slowly dying down, leaving nothing but comfortable white noise.

You slowly detached yourself from his form, eyes widening at the way he seemed to be emitting black smoke all around you two. Yet he also seemed to glow, just like he did back in your hospital room, a source of light without clear form. Just like a shadow, you knew what he looked like- yet you couldn't tell for sure. His face was completely blank, making you feel uneasy.

"You cannot dream of something you haven't seen yet." He said, voice low and humming, mildly distorted by some unknown force around you two. You nodded at that, his words making sense to you. Yet it made you feel a bit sad, knowing that you'll probably never see him either way. "Have you hoped to catch a glimpse of my features in your dreams, hm?" He playfully asked, brushing some hair away from your face, and you liked to imagine his face gentle and soft. "How sweet of you." He mused, before he leaned in, his features not distinguishable for your own eyes- it was as if you could see them, but forgot about them immediately. It hurt to know that you could see him, yet you couldn't hold onto the memory of it. Like your own mind was mocking you for not having the courage to go against his rule of not raising your gaze enough to study his face properly when you were awake.

Yet his kiss felt as real as it could get.

It was confident, knowing in the mere fact that you had developed feelings for the unknown being following you around these days, even though it seemed stupid to the both of you. It felt like you found something missing again, yet at the same time it was way too foreign to be something that had happened to you before. You were a shy being, way too gentle to ever find someone who would drown you in a kiss like this; fiery and demanding, yet also giving and utterly bewitching.

But didn't he say that you couldn't dream of something you haven't experienced before?

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 6: Crooked House

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry and Y/N find a house in the middle of nowhere.

Word count: 5k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

ANNOUNCEMENT: 

I’ve been so busy this week and I have an exam on Friday so there won’t be an update next week :’( Chapter 7 will be posted on Friday, September 11, 2020 on Patreon and Wednesday, September 16, 2020 on Tumblr and Wattpad. Love you guys so much! Thank you for loving this story!

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Y/N woke up recalling Harry pulling her from the river and carrying her back to his horse. She recalled his hands on her skin, him whispering words in her ear to keep her from slipping away. It wasn’t until reality set in, and she found herself completely naked underneath the fur coat, that she knew it wasn’t just a dream.

She’d almost died, and he’d saved her, again.

She propped herself up, her arms shaking. She was in a cave, the horses were there and the fire cast eerie shadows on the walls. Harry was nowhere to be found. She would assume he’d left her here on her own if his sword weren’t lying there by their satchels. Outside, the birds were chirping.

How many days had passed?

She flexed her fingers until the numbness went away, secured the coat around herself and gripped a rock for balance as she got to her feet. Her joints cracked and her head spun a little as though there was still water trapped in the hollows of her ears. She thrust her feet into her boots and followed the faint light to the cave entrance, stepping out into the snow.

Her muscles were weak, and the cold almost knocked her over. She put a hand on the wall for support and was thinking about going back inside when Harry emerged through the white branches, shaking the snow off his hair.

He halted when he saw her. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, crossing the space that separated them. He was holding some dry sticks so he must have left the cave to collect them. “Go back inside. It’s too cold.”

“The air feels good,” she said, blinking slowly. He shook his head, his brows knitted as he rested his hand on her shoulder to spin her around, but she took his wrist. “Just let me stand here for a little while.”

Harry exhaled as he rolled his eyes and his hand fell away from her shoulder. Her pout had worked like a charm. “Do you feel better?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “How long was I asleep?”

“Three days.” He sighed deeply. “You woke up a few times, but I assume you weren’t aware of it.”

She wrapped her coat tighter around herself then noticed that his eyes flicked away and a bit of colour brightened his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to do it. You were...dying.”

“I understand.” She tried to suppress a smile. It was funny to see him so flustered just from thinking about what had happened. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, giving a tight smile. “But...why did you go out on the ice?”

“I thought I saw someone,” she said, trying to recall what had happened. “I think it was just my mind playing tricks on me.” She didn’t fully believe that, as she could have sworn the woman had been real until she wasn’t. Thankfully, Harry didn’t ask more questions about it.

She held onto his arm as they walked back inside the cave. Her legs were still wobbly but she was growing more confident on them. She sat down by the fire, watching him feeding the flame with the sticks he’d collected and fumbling through his satchel for her clothes. He was still blushing when he handed them to her.

“I didn’t...k-know how to put them on for you,” he said timidly. She bit back a smile as he sat down beside her. Before she could thank him, he went on, “We’ll eat and then go back to Isolde, or do you need to rest some more?”

Y/N was taken back. “Go back?”

“Yes.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “We’re on our own and you’re unwell. You need to be returned to the castle.”

“But we’re already here.”

“We’re not very far from the castle.”

“No!” she snapped, making him flinch. “We’re not going back. If you want to go back, go alone.”

“I can’t leave you here.”

“So don’t!”

Harry said nothing, yet the reluctance in his eyes made her feel like bursting into tears. And so she turned away and roughly unfolded her shirt, not sure if she was angry at him or herself.

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“What?” Y/N snapped as Harry kept on staring. “Have you not seen enough?”

He cleared his throat. He was supposed to look away for her to change. She was a queen and he could be beheaded for what he’d done. Though he didn’t know much about royals, he believed she must save herself for marriage, and he of all people should not have been the first man to have seen let alone touched her body.

“I just didn’t expect to see so many scars,” he heard himself say and immediately regretted it as she pulled the giant coat tighter around herself to cover as much skin as possible.

“And what’s wrong with them?” she asked, looking offended.

He shook his head fast, holding up his hands. “No, no, there’s nothing wrong. I only meant to ask if you got them from fighting in battles...”

She cocked her head to the side and gave him the kind of look that made him think she could stab him at any moment. But instead, she slipped her arm out of the coat and showed him the scar on her bicep.

“My brother gave this to me during our duel,” she said. “The cut was so deep they had to stitch it up. I lost so much blood that day that I passed out on the field and Lance had to carry me back to the castle.”

Harry didn’t realize he’d been gawking at it until she let out a breathy laugh and proceeded to show him a few more on her arms and legs. She didn’t go into details about them, only telling him she’d got them during the journey last year.

Harry wished he could remember. He wished he knew how he’d reacted to the things that had happened to her, or if he’d tried his best to protect her, and if he had, he must have failed, because now she was carrying these bad memories on her body, while to him, they didn’t even exist.

“What about the one on your back?” he ventured. And his face turned scarlet when he received a look of shock from her. He hoped it hadn’t sounded like he’d counted all the scars on her body and memorised them while she’d been unconscious. He hadn’t. But he had spent a lot of time watching her sleep.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said when she didn’t respond. “I’m sorry for asking…”

Her lips arched at the corners when she met his nervous gaze. Slowly, she reached behind her back to feel the scar he was talking about.

“I got shot trying to save you in the ambush,” she said.

“Oh,” was probably not the best response, but it was all he could manage. She was staring, so he felt like he should say something else. “T-Thank you.”

“Why?” she snorted. “I couldn’t save you.”

“But you tried to.” And never had Harry thought someone would’ve done that for him. But perhaps it was just how the Queen was. Hadn’t she almost died because she’d thought she’d heard someone crying for help in a snowstorm and felt the need to jump off her horse to save the person? Harry didn’t have to get his memory back to know that she had a good heart. But would it do her any good or only bring her more trouble in the future?

He took a deep breath and shook off the thought. It wasn’t his place to question these things.

“Oh, there’s something,” he said as he suddenly remembered. “When you were sleeping, I think you were having bad dreams.”

Her eyes went round. “Oh?”

“You kept saying, ‘Do not take him from me,’ and that you’d find the lake to save someone from dying.”

The subtle change in her expression got Harry feeling anxious.

“This mission isn’t about Calanthe, right?" he asked. "At least that’s not the only reason.”

When her gaze fell to the floor, he knew that he was right.

“The King is sick, isn’t he?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. She seemed rather confused.

Harry raised both eyebrows. “You’re looking for the lake to save His Majesty because he’s sick?”

It took her a moment to answer with a gentle dip of her chin.

He thinned his lips and exhaled. “I’m sorry."

“But also for Isolde,” she said, not looking at him. “For Lance and Isolde."

Harry only nodded.

She must really love the King, because as soon as Harry had mentioned his sickness, the light in her eyes had gone out. Harry now felt like an arse for having touched her without their clothes on even though he’d only done it to save her life.

“Would he kill me if he knew we—” He widened his eyes to hint at what had happened. As her cheeks turned pink, he couldn’t help but agree with his past self that the name Peach really did suit her.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” she said, her eyes crinkled at the corners.

Harry thought about how lovely she looked when she smiled like that. When she really smiled. But of course, he wasn't going to tell her.

“Will I be invited to your wedding when we get back?" He grinned.

“If we make it back,” she said, lifting her shoulders and pursing her lips.

She looked sad again. And so Harry told himself not to mention the King's sickness until they’d found the lake.

He sat up straight and put on a tight smile. "Are you hungry, Your Majesty?"

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.

.

“She’s looking for the lake?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the Lord Chancellor.

Calanthe sank back into her chair and rested her chin on her knuckles. The room was so quiet that if there were a fly, she would be able to hear it flapping its wings. All eyes focused on her, waiting for the next thing she said. But it was another voice that broke that undisturbed silence.

“Your Majesty, I have a question.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to the man sitting on Calanthe’s right at the other end of the table. She motioned her hand for him to speak.

“I don’t understand why we haven't invaded the North,” he said. “We’ve got the upper hand now. Their cities are burning and the low courts of Isolde are in chaos. Now their Queen is absent, and the North is like a headless snake. Why do we have to wait when we can just win without a fight?”

Whispers passed around the room as Calanthe took a deep breath and tilted her head. “What’s your name?”

“Brion Warton, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Brion,” she said, lacing her fingers together on the table. “How long have you been serving in my court?”

“Ever since the King died, Your Majesty.”

“That’s not quite long, is it?”

“No, Your Majesty, I–”

“Guards! Seize him!” Two men violently yanked Sir Brion out of his chair, twisted his arms behind his back and forced him onto his knees. Nobody else made a sound as Calanthe gave her guards a dismissive wave. “Take him out of here and cut off his tongue.”

“Your Majesty, please!” cried Sir Brion, but no one dared to speak and ask the Queen to spare his life. Calanthe could see the fear in their eyes as the guards dragged Brion out of the room. They were just glad it wasn’t them.

Calanthe looked to her left and gave the group of men wearing black cloaks a satisfied grin. The Monks seemed proud of her. They were convinced she was the chosen one.

She’d been looked down on her entire life, been called a little girl and a whore, been told that she could not rule a kingdom. Well, look at her now. People feared her, and she had never felt more powerful.

“If you’re planning on staying in my court,” she said loudly, pulling all eyes back to her, “you ought to know that you don’t get to give me ‘advice’ unless I ask for it. And you don’t get to doubt me or question my decisions.” She looked at every single face to make sure they knew that any of them could end up a tongueless fool if they crossed her. “I bet a lot of you have the same question as Sir Brion but are smart enough to not ask it aloud. So I’m going to do you a favour and give you an answer.” She sucked in a breath, sitting up straight. “Y/N has set off to look for The Lake of Tears. No one has ever succeeded. We don’t even know if the lake exists. So chances are she’ll not make it back. That leaves the high court of Isolde for Lance Devanny, The Bastard King of Attwell. It seems like the perfect opportunity for us to take the North, right?”

A frightful silence ensued as people exchanged uncertain glances.

“Wrong!” Calanthe slammed her fist onto the table, startling several of the men. “Lance Devanny is a living saint in Attwell. He’s freed his people from his half-brother’s tyranny and is betrothed to the Queen of the second-largest kingdom. The low courts of Attwell worship him. They’d kiss the ground he walks on. So if we take advantage of this ‘opportunity’ and invade the North, who’s to say that Attwell would not fight for their King? And when the West is against us, so will the East and every living soul in Isolde who’s blindly pledged their loyalty to Y/N. We must be patient and win this war on the battlefield, so all one hundred kingdoms could see that I deserve to be their one true queen.”

With that, she pushed away from the table and got up. Everyone immediately rose from their seats.

“Court dismissed.”

Calanthe took her sceptre from a servant, and without a second glance at any of the frightened faces, she spun on her heels and sauntered out of the room.

A guard ran up to her when she stepped into the corridor. “Your Majesty!”

“Speak.”

“News from the North! They’d survived the snowstorm.”

“They?”

“Y/N and the thief.”

Calanthe lifted an eyebrow. “Good,” she said, a corner of her mouth arched. “If the spirits of the mountain don’t kill her first, we’ll make sure she suffers when she gives us what we want.”

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Harry and Y/N had run out of food so they decided to go for a hunt. It was difficult to find prey in the woods during winter. Still, they managed to catch two rabbits and brought them back to the cave. Y/N had done the catching, killing and cooking, and Harry was mostly there for...emotional support.

It was funny how impressed he seemed watching her roast the rabbits on the fire. She felt his eyes on her and had to speak. “We used to do this all the time.”

“We?”

“You and I. Before you went missing, we used to go hunting together.”

“Oh.” His mouth formed a tiny circle, which made her laugh. “So I actually knew how to throw a knife at a rabbit?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “You were also there for emotional support.”

Harry scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You could just tell me anything because I don’t remember.”

“If you don’t want me to manipulate you then you should try to remember,” she said it as a joke but deep down she hoped that he was still trying.

They finished their meal and Y/N had gained enough energy to set off. She waited for Harry to try to talk her out of it. If Lance were here, she knew that he would. But Harry said nothing as he saddled the horses and helped her mount Thunder.

They rode side by side through the forest, the cold settling beneath her skin. She was lost in her thoughts and worries when Harry decided to break the silence between them with a random question. “How did you and the King meet?”

She snorted yet didn’t look at him. “I was betrothed to his brother. Then he killed his brother and I killed mine. Now we’re King and Queen and soon to be married. Happy ending.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed. She didn’t know what to make of that reaction. “Couples who kill together belong together," he said.

She wanted to tell him that it was the exact reason why they belonged together. However, she continued to pretend that she was not interested in having this conversation, just so she wouldn’t end up saying the wrong things.

“Have I told you how I met Kenny?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied flatly.

Harry chuckled. It seemed like he didn’t get the hint that she wasn’t in the mood to chat about their ‘love interests’.

“So,” he went on, “have I told you that I have a sister—”

“I already met your sister, her husband, and your mother.”

This information made Harry shut up for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I was going to say you reminded me of my sister.”

This time, she allowed herself to look at him. His dimples made an appearance as their eyes met.

“Did my family know that I was serving in your court?” he asked.

“Yes. You used to write to them before Calanthe closed the border.”

Harry heaved a sigh of relief, and she could tell it’d been bothering him that he might have left his family without a proper goodbye.

She expected him to drop the conversation now, but then he said, “You know so much about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

“You do,” she said. “You just don’t remember. But if you’d like to be reminded, you can just ask me.”

“Anything?”

She shot him a warning look. “Make sure it’s appropriate.”

“I’ll try.” He smirked and pursed his lips. “Hmm. Let me think.”

And so he spent the next few moments asking her about her childhood, just boring questions about herself. But seeing him so excited and interested in knowing about her made her feel at ease.

They’d lost track of time as the conversations went on and on. They had no idea how long they’d been travelling until they saw a smoke pillar rising from the trees.

Y/N’s chest throbbed as the pictures of the burned village and black corpses flashed through her eyes.

But there was no village here. So where was the smoke coming from?

And so they kept on riding until a small lovely house appeared behind the trees, with its chimney blowing dark smoke into the white cloudless sky.

“Someone lives here?” Harry asked as their horses stopped. “In the middle of nowhere?”

“Probably another witch,” Y/N mumbled, trying not to sound worried despite her wavering voice.

She would suggest that they ignore the house and move on, but they were out of supplies and there might not be small animals for them to hunt as it was getting colder.

After a thorough discussion, they both agreed to walk up to the house and ask for food and water.

To their surprise, the door was left open.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed as Harry walked in as if he owned the place. He ignored her and dashed straight toward the fireplace. Taking off his gloves, he sat down and started warming his hands.

“Relax,” he told her with a smirk. “We’ll apologise to the owner when they return.”

Letting go a breath, Y/N timidly stepped in and looked around. The living space was small yet clean and cosy. Everything was made of wood. And in the corner of the room was a table with bread, meat and wine. Harry jumped to his feet as soon as he’d located where the wonderful smell was coming from, but Y/N snatched his coat and pulled him right back before he could make himself too comfortable.

“We’ll just warm up while waiting for the owner to come home,” she said, glaring at him. He heaved a tired sigh, looked regretfully at the food before returning to his previous spot by the fire.

Y/N shrugged off her coat, draped it over a chair and joined Harry on the carpet. She watched the flame dance in his eyes as he was completely mesmerised by it.

“Who do you think lives here?” she asked.

“Probably a lonely old lady,” he said with a shrug. “But it could be anyone. With all that’s happening in the North, this seems like the most perfect place to live.”

“You’re right,” Y/N murmured. She would rather have a life like this, completely isolated from the rest of the world, alone with Harry.

For a second, she didn’t want to go back or even go on.

She just wanted to stay here.

Her thoughts were cut off by the embarrassing sound of her stomach growling. She clutched it, face burning red as Harry chuckled and pushed up from the floor. He went to the table, took a loaf of bread, broke it in half and handed one half to her.

“We can’t!”

“The food’s all cold, Your Majesty. The master of the house is probably stuck somewhere in the storm and won't be back until morning.”

Y/N stared at the piece of bread in her hand and let go a shaky breath. “Fine,” she said. “Just don’t take anything else.”

Despite what she’d said, the two of them ended up eating everything on that table.

They’d been starving, and Harry reassured Y/N that with all that was waiting for them on this journey, dying in the hand of an old lady would be the easiest death.

By the time they’d finished the meal, the sky had turned dark and another storm was coming. The master of the house would certainly not return anytime soon.

Harry and Y/N let the horses into the house, spread a blanket they’d found on one of the chairs out on the floor and lay down together by the fire. The snow and wind were beating down on the roof and against windows, but the crackling of the fire and Harry’s slow breathing had drowned out all those horrifying sounds for Y/N.

For the first time in so long, she felt at peace.

“What if she’s a witch?”

“Who?”

“The lady who lives here,” she whispered and scooted closer until their shoulders touched.

His eyes fluttered open as he turned his face to her. “Then she eats us.”

She swatted his chest playfully and he burst out laughing. Both of them turned on their sides and lay face to face with one another.

He gave her a lazy grin. “Are you scared, Your Majesty?”

“Never.”

“I’m scared, though.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“You’re a big whiny baby so of course you’re scared.”

Harry snorted at the remark. “I am big, but not a baby nor whiny.”

“I’m just going to say nothing because I’m too tired to disagree,” she said, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

Before she nodded off, she heard him whisper, “Let’s just stay. Let’s never leave this house.”

“I agree,” she whispered back, yawning. “Let’s do that.”

She felt happy.

She was happy.

And she didn’t ever want to leave.

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.

.

When Y/N woke up from a dreamless sleep, Harry was still sleeping soundly and the fire was still burning. Outside, the storm had cleared and the sky was growing light.

They were still in the house.

Good, she thought. They weren’t going to leave anyway.

Y/N pushed herself up and came to the table to find it full of food just like when they’d first arrived. Someone had prepared all the food for them while they were asleep.

She was right to have decided to stay here forever. There were food and fire and water and Harry – all the things that she needed to survive. Time didn’t matter here. She didn’t have to care what day it was. She could have been asleep for days and she wouldn’t even know.

Time made you weary. And she was glad to be rid of that burden.

She sighed happily and grabbed a chair, and a sting at her fingertip made her jump. A drop of red blood flooded the surface where she'd pricked her finger. She stared at it unblinkingly.

Reality rushed right through her. She snapped her head up and was horrified to find herself standing in front of a crooked table, empty and undusted, just like the rest of this place. It wasn’t the same lovely house they’d spent the night in. It was dark and filthy and looked like it’d been abandoned for ages. The sweet smell of wood was now the stink of a dead rat rotting in the corner of the room. The only thing that had been real was the fire, now burning in a hideous black fireplace.

Y/N stood completely still. Sweat formed on her forehead as her heartbeats thundered.

Harry finally awoke. He slowly pushed himself up from the floor, yawning and stretching his arms as he looked around the room to find her. From his expression, she knew he still saw the same room they’d been in. His eyes lit up as they spotted her. No, not her.

“Food!”

Y/N stumbled back as Harry rushed toward the empty table and grabbed a fistful of nothing and shoved it into his mouth. Then he started chewing.

“Harry!” She shook his arm, terrified. “Harry, we must leave. None of this is real!”

“Leave?” He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You said you wanted to stay here forever.”

“No, Harry, wake up. We can’t stay here forever. What you’re seeing right now...is not real!”

Harry grimaced as he roughly pushed her hands off him and took a step back. “I’m not going. We’re safe here. Everything we need–”

She charged forward and gripped his arms. “Is not here! We must go! I think this place is messing with our heads. We must get out of here.”

The fireplace flared to life, and Y/N jumped. The wind gusted against the house, groaning like a monster waking from its hibernation. The fire had caught on the dirty carpet and started spreading onto the walls and broken furniture. Y/N grabbed their coats and things as the horses kicked the door down and sprang outside. She seized Harry by the hand but he didn’t budge.

“Harry! The house is burning!”

“It’s not. You’re seeing things again, Y/N!”

She was seeing things? Was she the crazy one or was him? Or were both of them?

Y/N was frozen when Harry took her face between his hands. The smoke thickened quickly, burning her eyes but Harry seemed more concerned about her than the fact that they were going to die if he didn’t come with her. “You saw the woman in the forest and she wasn’t there, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm and soft. “We’re safe here. Trust me.”

“No,” she snapped. “You’re going with me. Whether you like it or not.”

He had the strangest smile. “Do you hear that music?”

“Harry–”

“It’s like a party!” Harry sighed happily. “Let’s dance. You love to dance, don’t you, Peach?” He swept her into his arms, turning her around and nuzzling his face against her neck. “Isn’t this everything you’ve wanted?”

She pushed away from him at once. The walls sighed, she could swear, as if it were making fun of them, taunting them before swallowing them whole. She coughed into her sleeve, feeling dizzy but Harry looked like he couldn’t even feel the heat. She must wake him. But how.

She grabbed his face and smashed her lips to his. When she pulled back, he was startled, then a light came to his eyes and he whisked his head around the burning room. He could finally see what she saw.

She grabbed his hand and he didn’t protest as she pulled him to the door. The roof fell and crashed right in front of them and they jumped out of the way just in time, coughing and pulling each other up to find their way through the blinding smoke. Harry nearly fell. Y/N had to yank him back to his feet. When they broke out into the cold air and tumbled down onto the snow, the crooked house collapsed right before their eyes and was completely engulfed in the vicious flame.

“What was that?” Harry asked, gasping for air.

“It’s this place,” Y/N said, tears welling in her eyes as she could not stop coughing. Harry’s arms sought her and pulled her close to him as they lay there in the light of dawn, shaking from terror.

So this was why most people who'd come here could not return to tell the tales. It wasn’t just the cold or wild animals or snowstorms. It was the magic or whatever power that was protecting this place from intruders.

The legends were all true. The lake existed.

[mischiefandspirits]

Colony of Gotham (1/7)

Special thanks to @starlightandsunshine​ for helping me with this <3

The Colony of Gotham is an urban legend that is whispered about in the dangerous city. It's said the Colony is a family of demons and spirits that stalk the night, hunting for the souls of the guilty.

When Bruce became Batman, he'd never intended to be mistaken for a demon. He was happy to lean into it, though, and as he gained his partners -- as his family grew -- they all followed suit.

Next Part

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Bruce Wayne was born a vampire, one from the long-standing Kane family of vampires through his mother. This nature granted him a few abilities. He was more durable than a human and could heal faster. He was stronger and faster than a human and had better sight and hearing, though not to anywhere near the degree that some metas boasted. He could take on the form of an animal and could influence bats, corvids, canines, and felines to a certain extent. Finally, he would stop aging once he reached his thirties, a trait of those who were born or turned young instead of those like Alfred who were turned at an older age and therefore would always be that age.

However, when he set off on his path to becoming Batman, he swore to himself that he would not rely on any of this to fight the criminals that plagued Gotham. He would not be like those heroes past who relied on their powers, then were left defenseless when those abilities faltered or were ripped away. After all, only a vampire’s healing and longevity remained during the day and some spells and devices could similarly strip his nature away.

Batman stuck to his wits, tech, and martial arts training.

Even still, the criminals of Gotham could tell something was off about the Bat. Rumors flew about a demon haunting Gotham’s night, which Bruce leaned into. He hadn’t chosen a bat just because of the family significance. He wanted to strike fear. As such, he stuck to the shadows and allowed his fangs to bare. He used makeup to make himself appear paler and contortionist tricks to make his movements uncanny. He allowed Batman to become an urban legend that sent shivers down the spines of Gotham’s infamous.

When Barbara Gordon became Batgirl, she quickly realized his tricks were just that and leaned into them as well. She became a ghost following in the Bat’s footsteps. She disappeared into a mist made from special smoke pellets and spun across the ground and air in a weightless way that came from years of ballet and gymnastics training. She wore shadows like Batman’s, but violet and gold peeked through the darkness to make her stand apart.

Bruce initially didn’t want her in the field, but she eventually proved herself both competent and stubborn. In a bid to help protect her, he outfitted her with proper gear and let her in on the secret of his nature. She considered it, then a week later she asked him to turn her so she could always watch his back.

Then Dick Grayson was taken in by the billionaire and became the Bloody Robin. They called him a demon child, the son of the Bat who flew on bird’s wings. His cheerful laughs and giggles echoed and hissed eerily thanks to a voice filter. His clothes were bright colors, but were covered by the wing-like shadows that wrapped over his shoulders. Fake blood dripped from his hair and eyes and coated the tips of his gloves and cape. He chirped like a bird as he flipped and flew through the air. His mask made his eyes glow white and his body almost appeared boneless when he moved around on the ground thanks to the contortionist who’d babysat him at the circus.

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

The three heard the tales when teams of heroes began to form, but they didn’t reach out. Gotham’s Colony was a myth, an urban legend. Those outside of Gotham had never heard of them and those within only spoke in whispers.

That was how the Colony preferred it.

Besides, the rest of the world wasn’t as dark as Gotham.

Their tricks and games worked fine in the shadow-filled gothic architecture that made up Gotham, the near-perpetual overcast days, and the deep darkness of Gotham’s nights, but cities like Jump, Metropolis, or Central were far brighter. They could do without, they’d proven that plenty of times against the bigger villains that were either too crazy or brave to fear the Bat, but why should they? The tricks and games had become a part of them over the years and discarding a piece of themselves just so they could work outside of Gotham with strangers felt wrong.

So the Colony stuck to their own.

On the job, at least.

Dick met Wally West at a two-week-long Jr. Forensics Summer Camp when they were eleven and thirteen respectively. Bruce had sent him to brush up on his skills while Wally’s mentor, Barry Allen, thought it would be good training. Neither boy knew about each other's secret lives, but became close friends all the same and kept in contact when they returned home. Dick didn’t reveal it to Wally when he discovered the other boy was Kid Flash, but kept a close eye on Central City just in case.

A similar situation happened two years later when the Colony discovered Green Arrow’s latest protégé, a girl named Artemis Crock, lived in Gotham and had been helped into Gotham Academy by the other billionaire. Dick decided to keep an eye on her, but his pseudo-stalking quickly turned into a genuine friendship.

He may have taken a bit too much joy in introducing Wally and Artemis to one another. Wally got back at him a few years later by introducing him to the model Kory Anders, the secret identity of his celebrity crush Starfire. Dick had to admit to having a crush on Kory as well to explain his nerves.

It turned out to be a net gain in the end, though, since he came out of it with her phone number.

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

As time passed, Dick started to get too old to be the demon child. He decided to create a new story for himself. One that would let him step out from under the shadow of the bat, using a name from an alien myth in Bruce’s files that he’d loved reading growing up. He and Bruce argued, and Dick spent some time sleeping on Barbara’s couch, but with nowhere to run they were forced to come to a compromise. There was still tension, but it was smoothed over with time and a bite.

Nightwing was a nocturnal bird that had taken human shape after being taken in by Batgirl’s elegance. It chased after and raced the ghost, nothing but shadows and a blue streak flying through the air. Those who got close enough to see his face would say that his skin was like porcelain while black wings covered his eyes completely and his lips were painted with darkness.

Nightwing wasn’t the only change to the Colony, though, because as Dick was finishing up his designs for the story, a little boy was stealing the tires off the Batmobile.

Dick was furious when the kid climbed out of the car into the cave, thinking Bruce had brought the kid in as a new Robin without even consulting him, but anger’s quickly replaced by confusion.

Because Batman wasn’t with the kid.

Jason Todd had gotten grabbed by the Bat after having already nicked three tires off the batmobile. Batman caught him before he could run then replaced the tires. He’d made a mistake in leaving the boy in the car when he went to call for someone to pick him up, however. Jason, who some might generously call impulsive, proceeded to use the opportunity presented to him to hotwire the vehicle and take it for a joyride that ended when he accidentally had the autopilot bring him to the cave. 

Dick was immediately taken with the small spitfire’s story, as well as his stubbornness and intellect. Meanwhile, Jason was amused by the fact that Gotham’s demon was, in his eyes, nothing more than a spectacular conman and wanted in. They teamed up to force Bruce to adopt the younger boy through underhanded -- and perhaps slightly illegal -- tactics.

As Dick started using his new story more and Robin less, Jason got his own turn under Batman’s cape.

People started to say Robin was more vicious. He’d climb walls, the claws on his feet and hands easily cutting into brick and metal. He’d give a fang-filled smirk as he hung from the ceiling like he’d forgotten he was a bird instead of a bat, only to drop down on unsuspecting shoulders. If he wasn’t clawing at opponents, he was beating them with his fists.

As one of his first acts as Robin, Jason saved a young boy who had been kidnapped for ransom. The kid had acted out of it during the rescue, but Jason put it down to trauma. He’d had no reason to realize the young detective-to-be had noticed the edge of Jason’s fake fangs through the shadows and fake blood. No one could have predicted the rabbit hole young Tim Drake had just fallen down nor that it would lead him to massive discoveries in the near future.

When Jason discovered Catherine Todd wasn’t his birth mother, he considered going alone to look for the mystery woman who’d given birth to him. He and Bruce had just had a fight about his temper that had left him benched and he wanted to prove himself, but something Dick had told him months before echoed in his mind.

“No matter how much we argue, we’re always going to be there for each other. Us birds and bats, we’re a family. We have to stick together.”

In the end, he asked Dick and Barbara for help. It was something he was thankful for when his mother sold him out to the Joker. At least he could hold out against the torment with the knowledge his true family would soon come for him.

When Batgirl and Nightwing arrived, Joker fled. Barbara got Jason out while Dick, after seeing the state of his brother, tracked down the clown. Bruce got to him just in time to stop him from beating Joker to death, but when he saw Jason’s condition he couldn’t bring himself to scold his elder son for his loss of control.

Jason was barely hanging on and Bruce, knowing there was no other choice, turned him.

The boy lived, but his injuries were too severe and he fell into a coma.

Three weeks later, Bruce and Dick came into Bruce’s study to find Tim Drake waiting for them. Both were a little more focused on “My parents are never home” than “so I’m in a perfect position to cover for Jason as Robin while he’s sleeping,” to Tim’s confusion, but he ended up in the suit all the same.

The whispers that had come after Joker’s latest incarceration had him crowing about clipping bird wings tapered off as Robin sightings flared up throughout the city. People saw him flying next to the Bat and they heard him tap-tap-tapping his claws. He tapped them against the walls as he hunted through warehouses and against the floors as he crouched in front of technology that seemed to unlock under his gaze thanks to the computer that’d been built into his gloves, the interface of which could only be seen through the lenses in the Colony’s masks and cowls.

Tim didn’t really know how to feel about being adopted by Bruce, aside from the guilt he knew was mixed in there somewhere. It felt wrong to be slipping into the family like that while Jason was right there and Dick had to talk him down when the anxiety attack eventually hit.

Tim was Tim. He wasn’t Jason and they didn’t want him to be Jason.

Dick understood though. He explained how Dick and Jason had both had similar feelings regarding Barbara and Dick respectively, though Dick could admit he’d gotten off easier all things considered. He told Tim that the Colony was a family, and adoption or not, Tim was a part of that now. Jason wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Tim.

When Jason woke, Dick had a similar conversation with him after Jay saw a news broadcast about Tim while waiting for the others to arrive. It soothed him some, and Tim soothed him more when he assured Jason he wasn’t taking Robin from him.

“There can’t be two Robins.”

“Why can’t there?”

As Jason went through physical training to get back in shape, the two worked together to develop a strategy for acting as Robin together. One part of this was Trillic.

Tim, with help from Dick and Jason, invented a secret language made up of chirps, whistles, and clicks. It started as a way for the Robins to communicate with each other without giving away there was more than one, but over time the rest of the Colony picked it up and the vocabulary expanded until it became the family’s own personal language that they’d use whenever they didn’t feel like using words.

A few days after Jason was released from the hospital, Dick found Jason down in the cave and grew worried his little brother was pushing himself too soon after his accident. Then he saw the young woman on the screen. She looked a year or two older than Jason with long red hair, olive skin, and bright green eyes.

They’d met in Ethiopia, Jason told him, while saving a woman from some men. Jason had wanted to try to track her down now that he was awake. He’d succeeded, but it turned out she was an Amazonian hero.

Combined with the fact her name was Artemis, Dick couldn’t help but laugh and make a joke about Jason following in his footsteps. Jason smacked him and told him she was really more of an anti-hero so it wasn’t the same as Dick making friends with Kid Flash and Tigress, but Dick ignored him.

Jason did end up contacting her, and even got her to take a visit to Gotham. Dick took the opportunity to introduce her to Wally and his own Artemis, who Wally began to refer to as Stripes to not get confused. When questioned, he claimed it was because of some outfit of hers that stuck in his mind. Dick and Jason, knowing it was actually based on her identity as Tigress, nodded along and picked up using the name, to her annoyance.

Surprisingly, the two women didn’t get along despite their similar attitudes. This led to them taking great offense whenever people couldn’t tell which Artemis was being talked about, something only Jason, Dick, and Alfred never managed to do.

While the teens were laughing over this, whispers were going around about how the Bloody Robin seemed to be everywhere. If you fled from a room you knew he was in, you’d find him standing right in front of you in the new room. There was no escape. And he trilled more than ever, though his voice almost seemed to echo back at him as if he was having a conversation.

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

Not long after the Justice League had formed, Barbara had hacked into their security system and planted a little bug she named Mockingbird. It was designed to alert her whenever someone mentioned the Colony’s civilian or vigilante identities and copy any footage during the time. More often than not all it gave her was Wally and Bow-Artemis (as most of the family thought of her, to contrast with Axe-Artemis) discussing Dick. Every so often though, there’d be someone pining after Dick or Bruce, which could be good for a laugh depending on who it was.

On a day not long after the Robins had been set loose together, Mockingbird gave her something that was sort of new, yet at the same time not.

The video started with Wally discussing some prank he and Dick had pulled on Bruce and slowly devolved into him just bragging about how awesome Dick was. Suddenly he froze, staring off into the air.

Artemis took one look at him and asked, “Did you finally realize you’ve got a crush on your best friend?”

He immediately went to reassure his girlfriend, but she said got it and even shared his feelings.

Barbara settled in to watch the show.

Unfortunately, it took longer than she’d anticipated for Dick to catch on that the two actually wanted to date him and not just spend more time with him. He was usually pretty good at picking up on people’s feelings, yet Artemis ended up having to pull him into her lap during a movie night and kiss him flat on the lips before it sunk in.

When Barbara approached him about it, he pouted over her spying. Then he admitted that he’d known for years they all had feelings for each other, he just hadn’t wanted to risk getting in the middle of the two’s relationship since they seemed so happy together. When he’d realized how they’d started flirting with him, he’d been worried they were just after a quick thing and he couldn’t do that to himself. So he’d put on his media mask of naive ditz Dickie who wouldn’t recognize flirting if it hit him in the face.

Thankfully the two had reassured him and after talking it through, the three settled happily into their throuple.

To congratulate his brother, Jason gave him a solid week before making jokes about Dick following in Bruce’s footsteps by dating someone with a feline-themed suit.

The next hurdle was deciding how to deal with the media. Dick was Richard “Dickie” Grayson, eldest son of Bruce Wayne. The media loved to go on about him. Pretty much every second of his relationship with Kory had been recorded by the press. Neither of them had minded. He was still a performer at heart, always would be, and she was a warrior princess who had been in the spotlight all her life.

But Dick knew Wally and Artemis weren’t Kory so he talked to them about how they wanted to handle things.

In the end, they agreed only friends and family would know about Artemis, but Wally and Dick would go public. They all had practice keeping much bigger secrets so it wasn’t hard on Artemis to hide their relationship. Meanwhile, Wally didn’t mind playing around for the cameras. Plus, he knew how people treated Dick when they thought he was single and a small possessive part of him didn’t want them trying anything, even if he knew Dick would never cheat.

Things didn’t actually turn out too bad. Of course, there were always the conservatives that came around when Dick got a boyfriend, but they never stuck around long. Bruce had made his support of Dick’s sexuality very clear from the beginning and no one wanted to risk really ticking someone as rich and connected as him off by attacking his son like that.

The real problem came when their agreement to tell their families accidentally didn’t reach everyone.

Dick had been alone at the manor when it happened.

Bruce had gone on a weekend business trip, bringing Tim with him. Alfred was on a trip to England. Jason had taken the opportunity to spend the weekend hopefully not blowing things up with Artemis Grace, who had ended up getting a small flat in Gotham to act as her home base so she could visit with Jason and Dick during the rare occasions she wasn’t running across the world causing trouble with the Outlaws. Dick had been planning to spend the weekend with his partners at Stripe’s apartment, but they’d both been caught up by something (Dick assumed a mission had unexpectedly run long) so he had the night to himself.

He was watching a movie in the theater room when he felt a shift in the air. He immediately dropped to the floor, barely avoiding the sai that had been coming for his throat. Then he was over the back of the couch and engaging the assassin. He quickly realized she was with the League of Assassins as he recognized moves Bruce had picked up from them. She was good, too, but she had clearly come to the fight unprepared to face a Gotham myth. He didn’t take too many hits before pinning her and binding her hands and feet with the obijime from her dress. He then disarmed her of all her hidden weapons just in case.

When he questioned her, she declared that she was Artemis’s sister and had come to avenge her honor after Wally had betrayed her for Dick. She was not going to sit back and let the fool cheat on or dump her sister for the likes of a man she had believed was nothing more than an airheaded socialite.

Then, with narrowed eyes, she added that she had clearly been mistaken as not many airheaded socialites had been trained by assassins. Nor did they use moves only known by those trained by Ra’s al Ghul.

Dick ignored that and explained the trio’s situation as he untied her, having recognized her as Cheshire aka Jade Nguyen aka his girlfriend’s -- apparently protective -- assassin sister.

He took pride in the fact that he was dating someone who was only related to criminals instead of actually dating a criminal, unlike a certain father of his.

She thankfully believed him, though she did warn that should he be lying or should he hurt Artemis, she wouldn’t underestimate him a second time. She made a few more thinly veiled digs at his assassin-based fighting style as he showed her out that he cleanly sidestepped with comments about self-defense training. They both knew she didn’t believe a word of it, but she left it alone as she slipped away into the night.

So long as her sister remained unharmed, she had no desire to get involved in whatever was going on between the Wayne’s and al Ghul’s.

Before she left Gotham, though, she met Artemis and Wally on their way in and informed her sister that she approved of her new boyfriend. Both to be sure Dick was telling the truth and to mess with the speedster. The two predictably freaked out and she used their panic to slip away.

Dick answered Artemis’s call with, “Oh hey, Stripes! Your sister came by earlier to give me the shovel talk over tea. It was pretty gory, but I think the one Jason gave Wally was still probably worse so I’m not going to complain. Are we still on for tomorrow?” to their relief.

Artemis had not wanted to try to explain her assassin sister to her civilian boyfriend.

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

I decided to use Stephanie's Batgirl suit for Babs because most of Babs' suits are either bright or look just like Batman's. Steph will get other suits of hers when she appears.

The Robin suit looks just like Dick's from The Batman (2004), just bloodier.

Nightwing's suit looks like the typical V one, just with the eyes of the mask being blacked out. Also, black lipstick because yes.

Vampires’ animal forms:

Bruce: Gray bat

Alfred: Common raven

Selina: Oriental shorthair cat

Barbara: Little red flying fox

Dick: Black-billed magpie

Jason: Malayan flying fox

[midas-or-khaos]

Wrong place, Wrong time. Part 1

God of war x borrower oc story

“-And remember, DON’T touch anything! Reavers aren’t exactly a clean bunch,” a gurgling followed. “Ugh, really bad at keeping anything clean in fact.” The poor man really could be a worry wart at times (and a clean freak as always).

“Sindri, I’ll be fine. I promise! Cross my heart and everything. The whetstone will probably be kept somewhere safe if it’s precious enough to be stolen, so it’ll hopefully be clean when I find it.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Just...stay safe ok? And don’t get caught!”

“I won’t, I never do. See you soon!”

Reluctantly the dwarf answered,“See you soon jojo.” But the poor dwarf’s knee couldn’t stop shaking, thinking about worst case scenarios. Jojo knew he’d just have to prove poor Sindri wrong once again. Maybe one of these days he’d actually learn there was no use worrying himself into a frenzy. Taking off, the 5 inch figure wasn’t stopped as he scurried along natural ledges in walls, and began his descent into the heart of the earth.

Jojo didn’t see what all the worry was for. One of the few perks of being a borrower was often big folk like Reavers or monsters were always too busy looking ahead for bean sized people, that they never looked far enough down to see him. He knew the dwarf didn’t like asking him for help, even though the boy often came to Sindri’s shop outside ‘Fafnir’s storeroom’ (or whatever he called it) asking for challenges and new borrowing spots.

Most borrowers would call it suicide to be talking to beans and other big folk, ESPECIALLY with all the new monsters that have started popping up recently. Hel walkers they’re called apparently. But Jojo wasn’t most. He’d sought out his favourite Dwarf and brother when his parents died drowning in the lake of nine when the waters suddenly flooded, leaving their 8 year old son to fend for himself. Not immediately, obviously. No, at that point he was still a weedy little scaredy cat himself, not able to be even in the same area when footstep started to shake the earth. It could only last so long though. He hadn’t been old enough to be taken out borrowing before being left alone, and supplies ran low quickly. So, spurt of the desperate, when he saw the two set up shop outside his home in the foothills, the child decided to stride right out into the open and ask for food.

4 years later and he still never regretted that decision. Still scrawny, “the side effect of being young” said Brok, but definitely more confident. Brok taught him a lot of that confidence (and a whole lot of swear words too, despite Sindri’s attempts to undo his brother’s work) and Sindri taught him kindness and generosity. The generosity was only spent on the brothers, because who else was he going to see? No borrower would trust another that hung around beans, and Sindri wouldn’t let him be found by anyone if he had anything to say about it, but kindness he tried to show all IF he could without getting sliced in half.

Gathering focus for the change in environment, the world became darker. White, natural light was flittering out, slowly being replaced by the ethereal glow of blue crystals bouncing off liquid smooth stone corridors leading into a fatal drop. An underground ravine. Nothing had shown its face yet, though the odd grunt of some undead beastie would make itself known now and then. Being so small meant there was no need to cross the water below, or find ways to get the chain ropes down so as to climb across. All he had to do was stick close to the roof where stalactites could be leapt between till he reached some valley in the wall to rest. Nothing too hard. Looking for the fist place to jump, a low hanging spine was just a couple of feet away (to Jojo); taking a leap of faith, the boy managed to snag the tail end. Right, next one. Leaping like a lemur the drop was easily avoided, and soon something came into view. Sunlight yellow was beginning to mix with the unnatural blue, and Jojo knew there was an opening into the outside world around the corner. Good, finally he would be able to see, though he would be easier to spot in the illumination of day.

Sindri

How had Brok convinced him to let Jojo go treasure hunting alone? So many traps, monsters, ancients even! “He’ll be fine” said Brok when the two had discussed it together during one of their rare ‘chats for important matters’. So nonchalantly Brok threw out, “Kid’s never been seen before, he ain’t gonna be now!” We’ll that was just testing fate wasn’t it! The rhythmic thumping of hammer to metal was doing nothing to take his mind off the matter, and a few too many near misses to his thumb told Sindri he wasn’t going to get any real work done at this rate. Perhaps he should have a break and go visit Ivaldi’s workshop?

“Hey Sindri!”

“Agh!!!!” Both hammer and work went flying overhead, just missing the flat of his skull. The lithe boy in question at least had the gall to go red, abashed as he walked over to the Dwarf’s workbench, scratching at the buzzed fuzz across the side his head.

“Sorry.”

“Well you should be! That could’ve hurt you OR me, and all the infections that could get in-”

“Boy, be careful.”

The source of the voice sat further back up the slate corridor, hidden in shadow, hawkish gold glowed beneath a heavy brow.

“Sorry father.” Atreus called back to the hidden figure.

With meaningful strides, the figure came into the light of day, bleach white skin, jet black beard and a crimson tattoo striped across an eye setting the figure apart as none other than his worst fear. Kratos. Why? Why were these two here?

“What brings you two to my place of work to scare me?”

Leaning on the edge of his (freshly cleaned) work bench, the spritely youth explained with excitement, “We’re gonna get that whetstone you wanted!”

Shit! He’d mentioned that to them, hadn’t he? Why had they come to fulfill that promise now, when they seemed so disinterest in before?

“O-o-ooooohhhhh yeahhhhhhh, THAT whetstone. Well...”

Atreus leaned in with a head tilt and a brow lifted, “...well? What’s wrong, did you find it already?”

“No-“

“-No? Then what’s the problem?”

“Speak clearly, we have come for the promise of improvements.” Straight to the point, both father and son were on edge now.

Damn it, he was digging a hole for himself again. Stupid mouth. Obviously, if the two of them went in those mines, there was a chance his kid would get spotted and wearing that rat skin outfit, either of the pair could mistake Jojo for an actual rat and hit him with something. Oooooo, that’s horrifying, don’t think about that! Ughhhh don’t vomit! Don’t-...But On the other hand, there was a chance that the father/son duo could clear the way and make it safer for his boy to get back. And more searching eyes makes for less work. Sindri would just have to encourage them not to be too... liberal with their killing.

“Yes the offer is still there, but you must heed this warning.”

“You mentioned no warning before, why?” The irritation lacing the bestial man’s tone didn’t keep itself hidden, growls billowing out that barrel chest. The dwarf didn’t shirk away like a turtle. Not at all.

“O-oh-well-I didn’t know before. Bbbbut I got new information...from Brok. He said not tooooooo... kill the ratssssss?”

The growls took a higher pitch.

“Errrrr, ok? Are the rats protected are something?” Quizzed Atreus, bringing the blacksmith off the subject of the terrifying god before him. A perfect excuse.

“YES! Yes, sorry, the rats are the protected subjects of Freya. Wouldn’t want to upset her right?!”

“Oh! Well, she never mentioned that when we met her.” These two met FREYA! Of course they had, who was he kidding, they’d met everyone and probably started a fight with them too.

“Must’ve slipped her mind, now hurry up! Don’t want any drauger or wolves to get their disgusting hands all over it! Otherwise it’ll be so dirty even I won’t be able to clean it!”

The excuse was enough. The two turned (but not before the kid’s enthusiastic good bye) and disappeared below the cramped passage into the inky black mines, their footsteps echoing out.

“Please let this be the right idea.” Huffed out Sindri with stale, held breath, shaking his head at his own recklessness.

Jojo

Making the last of his descent down the sheer cliff walls, vibrant green broke the dead stone and made life at the edge of the darkness. The sweet ache from overworked tendons and muscles began the slow process of slipping away, fresh air and bird song rejuvenating the boy’s ambition to find his prize, a grin pulling at bubbly cheeks. He was halfway now! Strolling through the ivy, form barely making a rustle, sunlight illuminated the boy’s way through the thickets. Brok mentioned that before he reached the main chamber where the actual traps and treasure was kept, there was a ‘small’ field for him to cross with bits of precious metals along the way. Jojo knew he’d need to make height soon in order to know where he was going, but this time it’d have to be calculated; all black stood out in all this greenery. Now where to go? Rocks. He could use the rocks as an outpost to look out: dark coloured, easy to climb and easy to blend into. Just a matter of reaching it. Strolling through the ivy, the speckled light beaming on the crumbled earth was just enough to guide the way forward, boots barely making a sound.

Squawk

Stopping dead, a cold trail prickled along his back. The boy made the slowest tilt back possible to peak throught the canopy, trying to avoid detection. Too late, looking with a ghostly green eye, a monsterous raven was stalking with keen interest, perched almost serenely upon it’s watch point. Ravens weren’t notorious borrower hunters, seeing people like him often as a chore to catch and consume. But rats...rats were their favourite.

And he was dressed as one.

Atreus

“Father, what do you think had Sindri so shook?”

“Anything, boy. The dwarf has a talent for fear.” No denying that, agreed the doe eyed boy. Sindri did fear just about everything.

Crouching did nothing for the chalk giant, disgruntled grunts sounding out amongst the overhead drips of droplets every time his bald head scraped the sandpaper rough ceiling. It’s one of the few examples in life that made Atreus happy to be short. Yowls were coming from further into the mineshaft, but drauger were a minor setback, easily dispatched.

“Be on your guard boy, we are nearing danger.”

Jojo

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“ How could one bird be more persistent then all the drauger in the world?

SSSSSQQQQUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!

Too close! Every attack was only wearing the borrower down more; the saving grace from this endless stream of dive bombs was that in the bird’s haste, it made enough flapping to give its location away at all times, making it easier to dodge. But now Jojo was lost, lost and close to just falling down if his quaking limbs were anything to go by.

Atreus

“Well that was easy.”

A sagely look was drawn toward Atreus, not angry, but not impressed, “Easy because there are two of us, boy, but don’t let your guard down because you perceive an enemy as ‘easy’.”

Always one to lecture. “Yes sir.”

The cave entrance as coming into sight, stoic father and brash son walking side by side. With electrical arrows at the ready and frosty axe drawn the odd pair walked into daylight, sun illuminating the thick blood staining their skin and wares. Both were ready for any kind of battle ahead, be it fierce or simple.

Well, except for the kind of battle that they stumbled onto.

“Father? What’s wrong with that bird?” Quizzed Atreus, looking up, but Kratos was busy scanning the wooded field

“It hunts for prey boy, pay it no mind.” No beating around the bush.

“But it looks like one of Odin’s crows.”

The barely there expression of strained, chalk temples and widening, heavy set eyes might as well have been a scream.“Shoot it down.”

This rarity was not lost on the boy, heart pounding in response. If his ever-stoic dad was frightened, this was more of a danger than he had anticipated. Wasting no time, Atreus locked on as the bird went for another dive, and let loose a wizzing arrow. It fired true puncturing the breast and punching through to the other side with a resounding crack of the rib cage. The creature never hit its mark, breaking apart in a surprising burst of green flame, but never actually setting anything on fire. The witchcraft of Odin was strange indeed.

The boy couldn’t feel pleasure out of his elegant kill, still too shaken by what he’d seen. Atreus knew better than to ask his father what was wrong, the man would switch on him like a rabid dog driven mad by rabies if any fear was ever acknowledged.

“We go on, boy.”

Kratos took the lead, heading further uphill into the tree trunk horizon, sun spilling over the crest and illuminating some of the lower valley where the boy stood. Atreus made no move to follow. If he was to get answers, it would have to be now whilst his father charged on unaware. Tip toeing over to where the bird would have fallen, eyes trained on his father, the archer found his arrow wedged fast into the soft earth with wandering hands. Turning his gaze for just a moment to inspect his find, there were signs of burns, suggesting that the animal must’ve been made of pure magic; probably a spy of some kind if Odin had anything to do with it, the man was notoriously suspicious and crafty (even all seeing as his mother had mentioned) so would want to know at all times what was going on in midguard. Hold on... pulling the tip of the spear out, a rat skin sat pierced at the end. Weird thing was though, it was clean, even looking tanned on the inside like some kind of weird miniature hooded tunic! This wasn’t an animal the crow had caught and killed, but clearly was worn by the thing that the bird was after on the ground. Wait... Sindri mentioned not killing any rats, but this one was allowed to die and be made into clothes, meaning Freya wasn’t protecting the rats at all. Sindri was lying, he was protecting whoever wore this tunic-

“BOY! COME!”

Oops. He’d zoned out too long.

“Father, I think Sindri was lying!”

Footstep were coming down behind him in a charge. Curiosity wouldn’t let him leave, but flight was making his feet flitter and shake, ready to take off from the raging bull behind him.

“Did I just not tell you to follow?! The dwarf is of no concern-“ Fighting curiosity won over.

“DAD! Just. Look.”

Turning back and presenting the tunic to the man who’d finally reached him, the golden hue burned brightly with hatful embers down at the find. Just as quickly the gaze focused back on the child. He neither cared nor understood.

“It’s a tunic, made from the skin of a rat. Sindri said the rats here were under the protection of Freya, but if that were true, this one wouldn’t be dead and Odin’s ravens wouldn’t dare go after it. Sindri’s hiding something.”