#she's in pain literally every day of her life following the bone pit fight and like ... bitch MOOD
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Kyrâam - Rogue Chapter 5| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Sick of the countless failures, Moff Gideon decides to call in the big guns.Â
Warnings: Not many in this one, but mentions of violence(brief), brief mention of suicide, (literally barely touching on it), does another cliffhanger count as a warning?
AN: Ooooooo, new people đ
As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if itâs yours âĽď¸
Wordcount: About 2184, a short one this time for introduction purposes
Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardoÂ
Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyrâam |Â
Mandoâa translation: Kyrâam - DeathÂ
The atmosphere in the light cruiser was⌠tense. Beyond tense, actually. The tension as almost a living thing, vibrating throughout the room and threatening to explode into destruction if someone said but one thing wrong.Â
Moff Gideon stood at the head of the huge table, staring at the holo-image in the middle of it with a look of distinct distaste. His hands were clasped behind his back as he surveyed the image, a young woman wearing a cloak, fire in her eyes and a ridiculously high bounty above her head. His anger and disappointment were evident, obvious to the men and women seated around the table before him.Â
There was a break in the air, and then a young woman, Gideonâs Comms Officer and assistant, decked out in the dark grey green uniform walked in. Her even, regimented steps echoed on the floor and she stopped a little way away, offering a quick salute, âSir, I have just received the report you requested from our spies in the field.â
The air tightened in the room, the people seated around the table holding their breath, hoping it was good. Hoping it wasnât what had been rumoured.Â
Gideon looked away from the table, seeing what his people were holding out for. He turned to his assistant, nodded for her to continue.Â
The woman looked across the table, a glint in her eye and a faint smirk dancing across her lips fleetingly. âThey got in touch with the contact who was representing you. Apparently, the hunter succeeded in finding the target.â
The collection of people around the table sagged in relief, one even going so far as to rub his eyes as he let out a sigh.Â
The assistant couldnât hide her smirk this time, allowing it for a few seconds, âAnd then he went rogue.â
Gideon knew this already, but this is a punishment for the people that promised him heâd get what he wanted âRogue? What do you mean by that, officer?â
âHe found the target and began to bring her back as requested. They got into an altercation at another planet, some witnesses said there was a fight in a back alley and the last they saw was the target dragging the hunter back to his ship.â
The table was still, dread beginning to curl around the room like a snake, twining around feet and legs and flicking out a tongue to taste the danger that lingered on the horizon.Â
âAnd then?â
The assistantâs voice came out clear, almost disinterested, âAnd the next thing that we have, is the tracker and puck being destroyed. As of half an hour ago, no one knows where they are.â
Gideon dismissed her then turned to the table. He sighed, looking at the man who had recommended the Hunter this time, ââThe best there is.â That is what you told me, captain. âHeâll have her within a week and be back here to collect his reward.â Well, captain, itâs been a week.â He spread his hands, his eyebrows raising in a mock expression of wonder. He looked around the room, then back at the captain, âWhere is she? Are you hiding her under your seat?âÂ
The captain swallowed harshly, a sheen of sweat crawling over his skin. He kept his hands under the table because they were shaking, âN-no, sir.â
Gideon shrugged, that false wonder still in his voice too, âThen where is she? I took a great risk in following your advice. And it hasnât paid off.â
âSir, please! I didnât know this would happen. I thought the bounty on her would be enough to keep him straight. My sources said he was running out of money, that he was exchanging favours instead of credits for the repair of his ship. He couldnât have turned that money down. I donât know what happened, maybe she tricked him. Used her power to-â
Gideonâs hands slammed onto the table, echoed only by his snarl, âEnough.â Â
The captain cut off, unable to stop the pitiful whimper. No one moved, no one looked at him. They all knew what was inevitably coming.Â
Gideon pointed at the pain, âDonât you dare try to make a fool of me. Itâs on your authority that this has gone wrong again.â He straightened up, âEvery single one of you is to blame. Each one of you let me down. You will be punished. As it is, I have found other means. Expensive means.â
A lady lifted her hand, trembling.Â
Gideonâs eyes slipped to her, his eyebrows raising just slightly.Â
The lady swallowed, âEveryone knows she hasnât used that power since she was a child. As far as we know, it doesnât even exist in her anymore. I.. whatâs the point?âÂ
Gideon looked at her, his dark eyes simmering but he said nothing.Â
Only for a man across from the captain to speak up, âSheâs right. They say if one of those types doesnât use their power, they forget how to wield it. The Child repressed his powers for decades.â
Gideon was impatient now, waved his hand dismissively, âAnd then used it repeatedly in presence of the Mandalorian. It can come back. I have proof that it has. She used her power to heal him.â
âBut, sir, we donât know that-â
The atmosphere in the room noticeably shifted again. This time, the danger became something so much more.Â
It became a truly living thing that pressed against the traitors around the table. It licked down their bones, caressed their minds but it sung a song of death and destruction.Â
The door slid open, and then a figure walked into the room.Â
He was clad head to toe in black, a black so dark it seemed to suck the light of the room.Â
His tall, lithe body was armed with weapons of every variety, everything one could possibly imagine and more that were only rumoured, weapons that had been made just for him.Â
He stalked into the room with all the ease of a predator walking into the den of some small, helpless animals. And relished in the sheer power he had without even trying.Â
The harsh lighting of the room glinted off the blade sheathed down his back. The scabbard was engraved with symbols, symbols that had long since been used. The hilt was as black as his outfit, and intricately carved. If he had unsheathed it, the blade would have been as deep as obsidian, and so sharp it could have sliced off someoneâs hand with a mere whisper.Â
He stopped at the opposite end of the table to Gideon, shoulders back, posture tall and at ease, but coiled beneath the surface, waiting to strike.Â
A hood covered his face, gold embroidery picked out by the lights and snaking around the edges of the hood.Â
No light pierced the shadow that fell over his face, keeping him anonymous. Â
Clearly the captain realised he wasnât getting off this ship, because he suddenly broke the deathly silence by laughing. âSeriously? Is it dress up day or something?â He looked around the room at the horrified expressions looking back at him, âWhat? Are we supposed to be scared or something?â His arrogance was barred by the sweat pooling into the neckline of his uniform, the frantic pulse at his throat.
The night-clad figure said nothing. Merely rested his gloved hands on the table. A simple act.Â
But the air in the room vibrated, a warning.Â
Gideon inclined his head toward the figure, âThank you for coming. You understand that I would have left your services be if these fools hadnât failed me.â
The cloaked man nodded once, a slow incline of his head that somehow said everything he needed to. That he wouldnât even have paid attention otherwise.Â
Another woman at the table, a general, inquired quietly, âHis services, sir? Does this mean-â
âYes, General. It does. Never in my life have I been so spectacularly let down by a group of people before. You were supposed to the best in your fields, yet you couldnât give me one tiny little girl.â
The woman swallowed, nodded and looked at the table in submission.Â
Again, the Captain added another nail to his coffin, âYouâre giving this freak the job? If we couldnât find her, if even Trandoshans and Troopers and two Mandalorianâs canât get her, what makes you think heâs qualified?â He stabbed a finger toward the figure, who remained silent, a predator watching their next mean.Â
Gideon glared at him, losing his patience with this captain, âBecause he is the best there is.âÂ
A snort from the foolish captain, âOh? And why would you bring him in just now? Why not before?âÂ
Gideonâs glare could have cut through metal, his words clipped, âBecause he has a very unique skill set that I would rather not be associated with using. However, because of this situation and the necessity of obtaining her, it makes him the most qualified.â
âSkill set? Like what? Is he going to bed the girl and then drag her in? Or does he have a-â
The captainâs words were cut off with a gurgle, and his eyes went wide. His chair pushed back and then he was rising from his seat, as if pulled up by strings. Every limb of his body was frozen, rigid. Like he was no longer in control.Â
The figure had finally moved, lifting one of those gloved hands in a gesture that was almost casual. He tilted his head within his cloak, and a voice like silk slipped out, far too soft, far too seductive to belong to anyone good, âPerhaps youâve been living under a rock and youâve simply never heard of me.â His voice was crooning, desirable. It belonged to the deepest pits, full of monsters and creatures. It was the very darkness that plagued you, seduced you in a voice like honey â and then devoured you.Â
Undiluted terror dawned on the captainâs face. He flinched, twitching, trying to claw at the invisible hold on his throat that was slowly crushing his windpipe.Â
The cloaked figure lifted his head, like he was scenting the fear oozing from the captain.Â
This man was a dark legend. A rumour that you had to be crazy to whisper, for fear of unleashing his dark wrath upon the speaker. Many, many people had heard the rumours of a hunter so precise, so ruthless that he left no trace. People went missing, and then showed up days later completely unrecognisable, bodies so destroyed that even the most advanced robots couldnât extract enough DNA to give the victims a name.Â
His work wasnât messy though, thatâs what made him so terrifying.Â
It wasnât just clean and efficient. It was beautiful. This was a man that relished in his skillset, lived for the hunt and the kill. Breathed it. It ran through his veins, worked the muscles of his heart.Â
The fiercest warriors had dropped to their knees and wept for their lives before him. Mere mortals had died just from the sight of him.
As soon as he got the scent of someone, they may as well have ended their own lives to spare the pain.Â
Many had. And it still didnât stop him from finding the bodies and playing. Â
The rumours also whispered that he wasnât human. That he had sold his soul but even the vilest of monsters hadnât wanted it. Theyâd taken one look and given it back. He wasnât born by the Maker; he was something else entirely. He had no trace of soul in him aside from the Force, which he had twisted and utilised for his formidable beauty and indescribable actions. Â
Gideon watched him play with the Captain, âYou will receive the payment on her head and more. We know your prices and are grateful for your services, you may have whatever you need to assist you.â
The man flicked a finger and the Captain dropped to the ground, some guards dragging him away, âJust stay out of my way. You can keep the kid and the Mandalorian, but the girl is mine when youâre done with her.â The possession in his voice when said the word, âmineâ sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the room. There was no room for disagreement, for challenge. They would finish what they needed to do with you, and then you would be given to him. Probably wrapped in a bow.Â
Then he was gone, walking out of the room in a preternatural silence.Â
This man⌠he didnât just exude fear. He was fear. His were the eyes in the dark that watched you walk home. He was the voice that whispered when no-one else could hear. His breath was the kiss of ice that licked down your spine when you were alone, making you lock the doors, pull the bed covers up higher. But he was like smoke, he seeped through the cracks, through carefully built defences and invaded, slumbering like a beast within, without his host even realising.Â
He was death.Â
And he was coming for you.Â
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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#din djarin x force sensitive! reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#the mandalorian#the force#rogue#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you
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lost in space || s.r
summary:Â post-IW in which youâre stuck on the ship with tony and nebula. knowing you didnât have much time left before oxygen levels ran out for good, you decide to send a final goodbye message to the man youâve grown to love over the past several years.
words: ~2.1k
warnings: angst in the beginning, fluff, major feels, worried steve ;-p
a/n: i took inspo for another oneshot like this that i read but then i got a bunch of new related ideas, so here we go!
22 days.
22 days of drifting through empty space with Tony and Nebula.
After day 16, you began losing hope in returning home. Nobody had to say anything for you to put two and two together and realize you didn't have much longer before what little was left of your oxygen supply ran out. So this had the three of you accepting you wouldn't make it through, opting to make the best of the time you had left. Your breathing became more heavy and labored, as the act of taking a single breath had now grown more difficult with each passing minute.
While she didn't want to admit it, Nebula thought having you and Tony by her side was much better than imagining being alone. It was an unspoken agreement that you all enjoyed each others' company; seeing you were all you had now after losing almost everything.
You exhaled as you sat in the cockpit of the ship, chin resting in your hand as you gazed out the glass dome and took in the eerie yet beautiful sight that space had to offer.
Feeling a rough hand clasp your shoulder, you turned around to see Tony standing there.
"Hey," he smiled softly, holding his remaining granola bar out to you. "You haven't eaten all day. Why don't you take the rest of this."
"No, I can't do that," you shook your head. "You need to eat, too."
"Your health is just as important, Y/N. You've lost too much weight in these past three weeks."
"Haven't we all."
"Just take it."
Knowing he wasn't going to stop arguing, you mumbled a 'thank you' and took the bar from him, taking a small bite.
You pushed yourself out from your chair and took a seat next to him, lowering yourself to the ground on the steps as he leaned his helmet against the wall.
"What are you doing?"
"Leaving them a message. In case things go wrong, and...we don't make it," he replied as he took in a deep breath and began fiddling with the helmet, flicking a switch inside it before tapping its' side, projecting a blue light over you two.
"Tony...we're literally going to die. I don't get why you're doing this, Steve and the others probably think we're already dead..."
"Might as well say a last good bye, then. And, recording...is this thing on?" He tapped the side of the helmet again. "Hey, Miss Potts...Pep. If you find this recording, don't post it on social media. It's gonna be a real tear-jerker. I don't know if you're ever going to see these. I don't even know if you're...if you're still...Oh, god. I hope so. Today is day 21, uh..."
"22," you corrected as you leaned back against the wall. âOr 23. Wait no, 22.â
"Yeah, 22. You know, if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into a void of space, I'd say I'm feeling better today. The infection's run its course, thanks to the blue meanie back there."
"Youâd love her. Sheâs very practical," you added, "Only a tiny bit sadistic."
"Anyway...some fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about 48 hours of time. But it's now dead in the water. We're 1000 light years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow. And that'll be it. And Pep, I...I know I said no more surprises, but I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like...well you know what it looks like. Don't feel bad about this. I mean, if you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt. I should probably lie down. Please know that...when I drift off, I will think about you. Because it's always you."
You both fell into silence afterwards and you quickly looked away, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to try and stem the flow of tears that threatened to spill. Tony must've noticed the look on your face, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as you stared blankly out ahead.
This really was it. When you imagined dying, you saw yourself going down on the battlefield, maybe jumping into the crossfire to save someone. Or simply passing in your sleep, dying of old age, anything but being unable to breathe.
You didn't think you'd meet your demise by running out of oxygen as you drifted mindlessly through space.
"Why don't you talk to Capsicle," Tony finally spoke up several minutes later. "This might be your only chance to get the closure you've wanted for so long."
"I'm not...it's not like that," you sighed, running a hand down your face. "He's just a friend."
"Don't bullshit me, Y/N. I know you're in love with him."
You let out another sigh, staring at his helmet blankly for a moment before opening your mouth to speak.
"Hey, Cap. You know, for the longest time, I was stuck trying to figure out what I was really meant to do, why I was ever placed on the earth to begin with," you spoke, looking out the glass at the darkness of space again, "When Fury first recruited me to the initiative, I was...I was in a dark place. And I didn't know how to get out. I felt stuck, frustrated...lost. I felt like I wasn't worthy or even the slightest bit prepared to take on the responsibilities of a hero because of all that I'd done in the past. I'd committed my fair share of sins, and...it all came down to a point where I almost lost the will to keep going, to keep living. My demons held me back from the perfect life I so desperately wanted and followed me everywhere I went. But then you came along, and for the first time in a long time, I started to hope, to...feel things again. You taught me that there was such a thing as second chances and forgiveness, that it's okay to make mistakes, and most importantly, I was meant to feel things; to love.
"You taught me that I was meant to feel happy, to allow myself the chance at living that burden-free life. That I didn't have to feel so doubtful when something good happened because all I'd ever learned was to feel suspicious when an event occurred in my favor. God, I really do owe you, huh? I honestly don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you. Maybe spiral down into an endless pit of despair and destruction? But really, I'm grateful that you walked into my life. I don't know how I'm supposed to repay you for all that you've given up for me.
You chuckled lightly and sniffled, hastily wiping at your eyes. "I know you're still out there. I hope you are. Because I know Captain America would never go down without a fight. This fight, though...you don't need to keep fighting. I've already accepted my fate. I'm going to die in less than two days...and I'm not bitter or mad at all. Death is inevitable, you know? If there's anything I took away from my torturous days in the Red Room, it was to never fear death because every girl would eventually meet her end. I'll be completely honest with myself here, I don't mind dying alongside these two...Tony and Nebula are some pretty great roommates. Who knew an alien could be so good at paper football?
The helmet flickered and you knew you didn't have much time left. "Steve...I don't want you to look back at all this in pain. I want you to live your best life...one that isn't filled with regret. And if this means moving on, starting anew...then do it. I want you to be happy. Be happy...for me.
Another tear fell, but this time you didn't bother to wipe it away. "I guess since my days are now numbered, I should let this weight off my chest...I love you, Steve Rogers. More than you'll ever know. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember and I can only hope you feel the same but I guess I might never know that answer now...we can't always get our happy endings, can we?
"I'm so sorry I didn't get to say goodbye one last time, I love you," you choked out as the recording finally powered down and you let your head fall into your hands, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. The ache of longing to be with him echoed through the marrow of your bones; a chill wind trapped inside your heart and a million little glass shards tearing at your guts. Nausea swirled around in your stomach, head swimming with thoughts as your blood felt like tar, struggling to flow steadily.
Reaching over, Tony carefully grasped your hand, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently. "It's gonna be okay," he muttered, eyes closed as you trained your gaze on the glass. "It's gonna be okay."
It could've been five minutes or five hours later, but suddenly, a vast white light illuminated the space surrounding you, forcing you to shut your eyes again.
As you focused on the bright ball of light, you could make out several features of a woman, though you initially thought you were dreaming. This couldn't be real. Was it?
"Hang in there, guys, I've got you," her voice flooded your ears, before she disappeared from view.
You opened your eyes a second time to see you were speeding towards Earth, the ship slowing down slightly as the familiar outline of America came into view.
Then, a steady jolt of the Benatar indicated you'd hit solid ground, in the middle of the field in the Avengers facility.
Nebula helped Tony up first, then you. The entry hatch opened, and you carefully stepped down the ramp together onto the grass.
It was pitch-black out, the only sources of light coming from the lights that projected from the compound, but it didn't take long for your vision to adjust. A small smile found its way onto your face as you saw six familiar figures came running towards you.
"Oh my God," Pepper cried, throwing her arms around Tony's neck and holding on as if her life depended on it. "Oh my God."
You smiled wistfully as you observed your surroundings, lowering yourself onto the ramp's last set, arms crossed over your chest as you realized just how cold it actually was.
A sudden warmth enveloped you and you felt someone's leather jacket being draped over your shoulders. Seeing Steve's familiar tall figure out of the corner of your eye, you moved over slightly to allow room for him to sit.
He looked over at you in concern, taking in your pale and malnourished figure. His chest ached at the sight.
"I'm okay," you found yourself saying, "don't worry about me."
"I've been worrying about you for the past twenty-two days," he replied, hands in his pockets, "I thought you were dead."
"I'm sorry."
"I missed you."
"I missed you too," you swallowed hard.
Steve let out a shaky breath and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you rested your forehead on his shoulder.
"I thought you were dead," his voice cracked, "and if you really were, then...I don't know what I'd do."
âMe neither,â you breathed out. âGod, I missed you so much.â
Then all of a sudden, the whole word seemed as if it was on standstill as his sapphire blue eyes bored into yours with such an intensity that sent a chill down your spine, keeping you firmly locked in place. And it utterly terrified you because youâd never felt something so intense like this before and he was the reason why you even felt this way to begin with.Â
And before you can protest against your own thoughts, you closed your fists around his shirt and gently tugged him towards you, closing the gap and kissing him. The sudden action took you both by surprise but Steve doesnât waste any time in reacting, moving a hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck to kiss you back.Â
Everyoneâs too exhausted, too busy feeling relieved at the fact that you returned safely to make a teasing comment towards yours and Steveâs relationship. Theyâve secretly been betting for a while that youâd finally get together, though not in this exact way.Â
Until Rocket breaks the silence. âNice welcome back gift, Agent.â
"You cockblock," Nebula flicks him in the head. "Let them have their moment, geez."
#steve rogers x reader#avengers x reader#marvel fic#avengers fanfiction#captain america fanfiction#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x you#captain america x reader#marvel imagine#steve rogers x y/n#captain america x you#marvel reader insert
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canât keep away from fate | CH9
Pairing : Percy jackson x demigod!reader
summary : The daughter of destiny- literally, along with inevitability, compulsion and necessity. Being the child of a primordial goddess doesnât really assure you a quiet, calm life but when you return to new york after five years of being shipped off to boarding school, your once mundane life says goodbye.
A/N thank you all for all the lovely support and messages, they honestly make my day uwu. Also! iâm so sorry for keeping you waiting but im giving myself a break from school work so here you go!
contents page
Normally percy would hate sleeping. As much as he needed it - which he found was very often these days, the nightmares were nothing to look forward to.Â
However these day, percy found a little enjoyment in them.Â
Sometimes heâd dream of kronos and his army, lukeâs golden eyes, camp half blood but now he saw dreams of you.Â
It had been a few months since heâd seen you, since he kissed you- percy always relived the moment, snapping back to reality to find himself smiling like an idiot and flushing red, but his dreams were the only way he could see you.Â
Undoubtedly, Percy tried to iris message you, but to no avail, youâd never be reached or the line would go black every time it went through.Â
That worried him.Â
Heâd brought it up to chiron the first time it happened, but chiron suggested that you were probably cutting the line of yourself- if luke had somehow got to interfere with the iris messages heâd figure out what you were doing.Â
Sometimes when percy made visits to camp heâd see new faces along with hearing about the heroic journeys the children had taken to get to camp along your side.Â
âShe was so cool!â one of the kids who percy had asked about their arrival (obviously wanting to hear about you), âShe fought off this army of half dog half seal men with just waving her hands!âÂ
You had acquired a new nickname, âthe guardian angelâ seeming the way you delivered demigod kids safely to camp so stealthily that they wouldnât even had known it until the children popped up on half blood hill. Then you were gone without a trace again, off to find other demigods. It sometimes pained percy that you were frequently within reachable bounds to camp but he never got to see even a glimpse of you.Â
There were also rumours, which were most definitely true, about how lukeâs ranks were decreasing in number- random disappearances, as nico di angelo had described them as, of your doing.Â
âI sensed her presence when i was in the forests of new jersey,â nico explained to the counsellors during one of their meetings, âalong with about 2 dozen  laistrygonian giants and by the time that i got there-â he clicked his fingers and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion âthey were both goneâÂ
Gosh somehow it made percy feel bad that all he could do was sit back and wait whilst you were out there surviving on your own and fighting monsters and saving children.Â
What a hero he was.Â
Yes, he was fated to fight with the titan lord but right now, he was busy fighting his math homework.
Percy stared dejectedly at his unfinished work, gods he missed you.Â
The way youâd laugh when he did something stupid, the way you smelt like magnolias, the way you would place your hands on his to comfort him and the way you seemed like nothing bothered you and how you say everything would always turn out right.
Percy definitely needed to be told that right now.Â
------
Whenever percy felt like he was done for, heâd think about you. Even if he did just see one of his friends sacrifice his life, had an arrow shot through his leg and was falling 20 feet towards a huge mass of water- he was able to keep himself just that little bit more hopeful by just thinking about you.
I need to see her again, Percy thought as he his collided with the water.Â
He blacked out and was immediately pulled into a dream.Â
He found himself on top of Mount Othrys in a greek pavilion of black marble that seemed to blend in with the shadows. Through the darkness he was able to make out two giant figures : one seemed to glow against the black walls of the building and the other seemed to melt into them.Â
âQuite an explosionâ one remarked.
âit doesnât matter, our army shall rise again to destroy the godsâ the other snided.Â
âhm, quite so,â the other agreed calmly, âbut the demigods are becoming more, diligent. First the disappearances of our troops and now the explosion, right in front of kronosâ nose, haâ
Percyâs heart dropped, he knew what was causing those disappearances- it was you. What if they find out it was you? what would they do? would they try and track you down? kidnap you?-
âThis would have not happened if you would let me fight!â a voice shouted and percy realised that there were in fact three giants there, crouched below in the centre of the room under what percy thought to be a statue was the titan atlas.Â
he struggled under the weight of the sky, a swirling funnel cloud, but still managed to strain his voice to argue, âlet me out! take my place!â Â
But before Percy could watch any further his dream shifted. The voices became quiet- they were distant, he was no longer standing in the greek pavilion but about 20 feet away, standing behind one of the supporting columns and beside nico di angelo.
The boy faced him, âYou see percy, weâre running out of time, do you really think we can win without my plan?âÂ
The fact that nico had seen him shocked percy enough but his message was more than enough to shake percy to try and wake himself up from his dream.Â
But the image began to fade and he found himself off of mount Othyrs and in a more flattened out land.
At first he thought he was in the forests of long island but he noticed the trees here were thicker, Their branches coming down lower than the ones around camp and the air was more chilly. This was not New York.Â
Percy tried to take in his surrounds then caught his breath.Â
There standing behind a large oak tree was a petite girl with her long hair flowing down her back, wearing an army jacket and black ripped jeans and holding out two long drakon bone swords.Â
You looked distressed. Your face was pulled into a slight scowl as you peered around the tree and into the forest behind you. Percy knew you were in some sort of trouble but he couldnât help but smile.
But the smile quickly disappeared when an arrow shot out of nowhere and embedded itself in the oak tree you were standing behind.Â
You broke out into a run and percy followed in suit.Â
Unknowingly, percy reached into his pocket and pulled out riptide, his first instinct was to fight whatever wanted to hurt you but he quickly realised that there wasnât much he could do so could only keep up pace beside you.Â
Most dreams you were in seemed heavenly to percy, but this was a nightmare.Â
Seeing you need his help but not being able to do anything killed percy. Of course he had no doubt that you could handle anything by yourself, but then again, you wouldnât be running away if you could.Â
Despite not actually running percy found that he was becoming short of breath, you were an awfully fast runner.
âPercy youâve done so well, but I think itâs time you woke upâ
Percyâs head snapped towards you. you were staring right at him.
You glanced away momentarily to keep track of where you were going before placing your gaze on him again, âI miss youâÂ
Percy was at a lost for words. Months heâs spent trying to contact you, dreamt of you, trying to reach out to you and now, when time was limited, you had answered him and not only that, you were telling him to go away.Â
âY/N-â but the scene began to fade and percy panicked, why of all times he had to start waking up now?
He felt himself began to slip into consciousness but he stubbornly did his best to try to go back to sleep.Â
but alas, your soft smile disappeared along with the dream as percyâs eyes shot open.Â
----
Percy didnât think things would go so downhill. If anyone told him that the highlight of his week would be a midnight panic with a goddess, the son of hades and a hell hound, heâd pretty much expect it.Â
As he sat down by the magical fire, he got some time to think.Â
After being told that heâd end up dying either way and committing to a plan that would probably speed up the process, he was pretty miserable.
âthings will only turn out that way if you think they willâÂ
Your voice echoed in percyâs head, it had become a sort of habit every time he found himself thinking negatively.
Yeah but itâs in the prophecy princess, i die no matter how positively I think.Â
Then a sudden pain stabbed percy in the heart, If he didnât survive nicoâs plan he wasnât going to see you again.Â
He was hoping some how youâd turn up in the next few days, (after nico assured him that you in fact were still alive and he had not felt your death- but that only gave percy temporary relief) He knew there just had to be a way he would see you before his destined fight, you were the daughter of fate after all- maybe you had to like... force great prophecies like this...? it was ridiculous but thoughts like this made percy hopeful.
âyou are distressedâ Hesita commented and percy was worried that she could read his thoughts.Â
âthe time will come and you will know what the right decision isâ the goddess said vaguely
âUh, thanksâ Percy nodded, not knowing what else to say and the goddess return to attending the hearth, why couldnât gods ever speak plain english?
----
Percy had been to the underworld when he was 12. It was a long, tiring trip that took them to los Angeles and had nearly killed him bout 7 times. And only now did he find out about an entrance to hell which was literally 20 minutes away from his house- brilliant.Â
the stairs to hell were exactly how percy imagined them, dark, slippery and narrow. The only way he could actually see was by the light of his sword and the fact that mrs oâleary bounding down the stairs noisily reassured him that the stairs didn't end in a great drop to an endless pit to Tartarus.Â
Nico lagged behind, a look of doubt evident of his face.Â
âYou alright?â percy dared to ask, hoping the boy wouldn't become defensive at the question.
Nico nodded, but opened his mouth to say something, âi saw her you knowâÂ
Percy stopped, saw who? he thought for a quick second then immediately knew nico meant you.Â
By this point nico had caught up with percy and stood just two steps behind him, â She- when we first met she offered me the keys to her apartmentâ
âShe what?â Percy interrupted, too surprised not to. he knew that you owned an apartment in Queens- a gift from your father for when you stayed in New York, and he knew that whatever you and nico had talked about had stayed between the two of you, but this? Why didnât he get keys to your apartment? Â
Nico turned away to avoid eye contact, percy realised he must have been staring at him hard and tried to change his expressionÂ
âShe told me that i could stay there anytime if i needed it. I wasnât going to step near that place at all. But one night i got into an argument with my father and had nowhere else to go...â
Nico trailed off and percy was worried that he was beginning to back track on himself and regret ever saying anything to Percy, but thankfully after a deep inhale of breath, he continued.Â
âI was only planning to stay there for a few hours, but it just so happened she was there too. She was asleep but it seemed like she was having a bad dream. kept murmuring things-â
Nico shuddered, âI woke her up in the end and asked her about it but she shook it off. Moved the subject onto the fact that i had actually taken up her offer and decided to make me dinner. What she said though- it, it seemed importantâ
âWhat did she say?â percy asked, if nico was scared then he knew this was serious.Â
âSomething about to storm or fire the world must fallâÂ
Percy looked up at nicoâs face, he seemed as disturbed as he was back at mrs castellanâs house. Panic rose up within percy.
âItâs probably nothing thoughâ nico shrugged but percy could tell that he didnât mean it at all, but despite that nico walked past percy and continued down the stairs, âwe should hurry up, weâre losing valuable timeâ
Percy had no other option but to follow and wonder, why did nico chose to bring this up now?
.....
âPercy!â
before he was fully awake, percy had reached out and pinned nico to the floor with his sword pressed against his neck.Â
âwe-have-to-get-out-of-hereâ nico struggled.
âOh yeah? and why should i trust you?â percy growled, pressing down harder.
âNo-other-choice?â
Percy rolled his eyes, he really did have no other choice.Â
He stood up as nico curled to the side and retched up for air. Percy wouldâve almost felt sorry for him if he hadnât just betrayed him to his father.Â
âDoes your dad want to âtalkâ again?â Percy seethed and nico sat himself up.
âhonestly percy i had no idea, he tricked me!âÂ
âYou know what your dad is like!â
âYeah but-â nico paused and stood up, quickly realising that there was no point in reasoning, âIf we don't hurry, weâll never get outâÂ
Percy nodded once and allowed nico to take the lead as they plunged into darkness.Â
by the time the two of them had reached an exit via the palace kitchen, percy was half dragging, half carrying nico who spent every other minute pointing at skeleton guards or zombie servants and knocking them out before they could think about stopping the two escape.Â
Problem was, nico was going to be knocked out pretty soon too.Â
âStop thatâ Percy said, âyour power drains you too muchâÂ
by this time nicos legs stopped working all together and percy had no choice but to swing the younger boy over his shoulder.
âWith great power,â nico said drowsily, âcomes great need to take a napâÂ
Then the sound of a great gong echoed throughout the building.Â
âAlarmsâ nico said drowsily from behind percy, âMrs OâlearyâÂ
âRightâ percy said, and whistled.Â
Mrs Oâleary came bounding across the fields of asphodel, probably excited to be back in her own grounds, and circled percy who desperately tired to throw nico onto her back.Â
âHey, girl, think you can get us to the river styx?â Percy asked as calmly as possible, despite the sounds of a thousand skeletons footsteps coming their way.
Mrs oâleary barked in response and bounded off into the fields.Â
On approaching the river bank, Percy force fed Nico some ambrosia. He was scared that he had given him too much but the boy was knocked out pretty good. But after a few shakes of his head, nico was steady enough to stand on his own two feet.Â
the two boys slid off Mrs OâLearyâs back and ran towards the river.
âPercy you need to prepare yourselfâ nico said cautiously, causing percyâs stride to slow.
âHow do I do that?â Percy asked and nico shook his head.
âYou know I donât think this is a good idea-âÂ
âWhat?! this was your plan in the first place!âÂ
âYeah but-â nico seemed to struggle for words but exhaled as if he was angry and shook off his previous statement, âThink of a point on your body which will tie you back to reality and don't stop thinking about it otherwise the river will burn you to ashes, okay?âÂ
âYou know what maybe this wasnât a good idea after all-â
âPercy!âÂ
âRight right,â percy defended, inching closer towards the river.
at first when he nico had proposed the idea, percy had a long think of where the point would be. Somewhere difficult to reach during combat, maybe his armpit? but then he decided he wanted it to be somewhere more dignified.Â
he hadnât thought on the matter since then, which was pretty stupid since the decision could possibly end or save his life but as his foot touched the river he knew exactly where he wanted it.Â
Percy wanted to walk cooly into the river, but as soon as the water touched his legs, his muscles went numb and he fell face flat into the water.Â
Then he stopped breathing.
It was terrible, this was the first time he struggled to breath underwater and the thought terrified him. images from the past few days flashed before his eyes in the darkness, beckendorf, rachel, grover and even lukes golden eyes.
instead of resulting to panic, percy kept thinking of that point, the one point where his life would end in a single blow, thinking about how that was his connection to the living world.Â
âYou alright?â you said suddenly as you came to stand next to percy.
Percy jumped, he hadnât heard you or sensed you coming up behind him, (although you were getting better at hiding you presence) and he flashed you a smile, âYeah, just thinkingâÂ
âAbout what?â you asked calmly.Â
He stared at your face, it was always so stoic, as if you couldnât care less about what he said but he knew that you genuinely cared for his happiness as much as your own.Â
âYouâÂ
Your eyes widened as you turned away but percy was able to catch that small flash of blush before you did, âshut upâÂ
percy laughed, a genuine laugh that came from his stomach, you were just so damn cute.
he wasnât exactly thinking of you, so to say, he was thinking about you amongst other things such as how to kill kronos, how to become better at sword fighting, how to do question five on his trig homework.Â
He faced the river again so that you would turn back towards him, which worked- of course.Â
âStop being so sad all the time will you?â you said light heartedly as you tapped percy on the small of his back, âyou being sad makes me sad too just so you know, so stop itâ and you began to jog past him towards the surf.Â
percy struggled, trying to win the fight against the current but there was no use. He felt his arms and legs disintegrating and his soul felt like it was being ripped from his body.
he thrashed around in the coldness trying to reach for the surface and trying his best to keep thinking of his mortal point,
percy was on his last class of the day, he had set them a few drills to practice for the second half of the hour and was watching them with tired eyes. all he wanted to do was sleep.Â
suddenly he felt a little poke on his back, at the bottom of his spine.Â
âTheyâre doing well, aren't they?âÂ
Percy craned his neck to face you, your head tilted slightly to be able to see past his shoulders, your hands still rested just above his hips.Â
âof course, i taught themâ percy scoffed
âand so did iâ you countered, âand just for your information, they enjoy my lessons betterâÂ
âWho says?â percy laughed, uncrossing his arms and fully turning his body to face you.
âI doâ you smiled, making percyâs knees go weak.Â
Percy tried to push his way to the surface but it was no use, the more he moved, the faster he sunk. This is it, he thought, iâm going to burn alive in hell.Â
âSleeping again jackson?âÂ
immediately your fingers tapped the small of percyâs back and he peeled open one eye to see your figure silhouetted against the shine of the sun.
He had taken a nap on the deck, laying on his stomach, one arm under his face and the other hanging off the edge of the deck, and you were currently crouched down with a mocking smile on your face.Â
âyes, and you're disturbing meâ he slurred out and he turned his face to the other side.
âOh i wouldnât say this is distractingâ you joked, âthis isâ
And you pushed percy into the water.Â
-
Suddenly percy felt a tug at the bottom of his spine and he began to make his way to the surface. it was as if there was a bungee cord attached to the small of his back, pulling him back to the shore. he ignored the searing pain in his lungs, arms and legs and kept his focus on his mortal point.Â
think of the small of your back, small of your back, small of your back...
he did his best to look up and through the darkness he could make an outline of a hand, reaching in to help him out.
âoh gods iâm so sorry, i didnât know youâd be that off guard! now take my hand you idiotâÂ
percy reached out to grab your hand.Â
He sputtered as air returned its way back into his lungs and he landed on the shore of the beach, but the sand felt more solid, oddly shaped, just like-
âPercy get off me! youâre heavy!âÂ
Percy pushed himself up and stared down at nico who was red in the face and soaking wet too,Â
âS-sorry dude-â Percy stuttered, did he really just imagine nico was you?
He got to his feet then held his hand out to nico who ignored it and pushed himself up, was he really that angry that percy had squashed him?
âUh- did it work?â Percy asked tentatively, scared that nico was more than just pissed.Â
âI have no ideaâ nico responded, sounding surprisingly bitter, âfeel different?â
âNot reallyâ percy said slowly, but before he could apologise again for landing on nico a harsh voice shouted in the distance âTHERE!â
The two boysâ head snapped to the top of the hill where about a hundred skeleton soldiers stood, weapons raised and all- eyes? they didnât have eyes, all heads, faced towards them.Â
Hades stood in his chariot, dressed in battle gear, his nightmare horses skittering on the ground as if they were eager to stampede over percyâs body, âYou will not escape this time jackson, DESTROY HIMâ
âfather no!â nico exclaimed but a line of british red coat skeletons charged with their rifles aimed.
Mrs oâleary did not hesitate to pounce at them and that tiggered percy.
He didnât want his dog getting hurt just because hades was being a dick, and he charged without any other thought.Â
If he was going to die, he wanted to die fighting.Â
Percy was reckless, but this? this was a whole other level, damn- even another building. He charged straight through their lines, slashing his sword, not even thinking about where to strike but just did.Â
Bullets? didn't hit him. Swords? couldnât cut him. Clubs? couldnât even get an inch near him.  (Hotel? Trivago.)
Heâd successfully tore his way through the ranks and pounced right over hadesâ horses and grabbed the god by his collar and pinned him to the ground.
Silence.Â
Percy was expecting skeletal hands to come down on him but as he looked around, there was nothing there- they were all gone.
âlisten here jackson...â the god said.
âNo you listen!â percy growled, âtell me about the trap!âÂ
but the god just snarled and melted into darkness, leaving percyâs hands closed around nothing.
âYou killed them all...â nico said dazed, breaking percy out of his cursing spree.
Percy stopped and looked around him, there was nothing apart from the three of them, a bunch of bones and a variety of weapons.
âI guess it worked thenâ percy offered.
âOh geeâ nico said sarcastically, âyou think?â
the two of them stood silent momentarily and percy stared at nico.
Heâd come a long way from where he began, and percy still felt like that it was his fault that nico became so bitter.Â
âYou should go back to your fatherâ percy started.
Nico looked shocked to hear this, âno, I want to fight-â
âYouâll be better off down hereâ Percy said, the harshness in his voice surprising even him.Â
the look of hurt on nicos face made him feel guilty, âI mean, we need your father to fight on our side, youâre the only one who can convince himâ percy continued, trying to sound kinder.
âYou donât trust me anymore, do you?â nico said dejectedly.Â
Percy was shocked, did he trust him?Â
âWork on him. I know you can do itâÂ
Percy couldnât help but notice how nicos face lit up slightly after hearing him, âthanks but don't get your hopes upâÂ
âOkay, Iâll see you for the battle, me and Mrs Oâleary will head up nowâ Percy said, waving over his hell hound.
âWhere are you going?â nico asked, tilting his head as percy jumped on Mrs Oâlearyâs back.
Percy smirked, âto start a warâÂ
#Percy#percy jackson#PERCY JACKSON SERIES#percy jackson fanfiction#percy fanfiction#The Heroes of Olympus#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#the heroes of olympus fan fic#Percy Jackson imagine#percy jackson fandom#percy jackson fanfic
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Finding Home
a fic about @asocial-nebulaâs demons and angels AU!!!!
iâm sorry itâs kinda short. i had to use my momâs Adderall today and thatâs only, like, 20mg, so it doesnât last as long. plus itâs the evening so itâs mainly worn off, but i really wanted to write something for this AU!!!
also, Nikola, i am so sorry if things are inaccurate. is Hell an underground cave system? does it have animals? running water? blankets???? i donât know. i am very, very sorry if itâs inaccurate. i tried. but still!! i hope you enjoy!!!
Word count: 2281
---------------
Joan remembered the first time she disappointed the House of Pride. And everyone else around her.
It was still morning and Hellâs caverns were as hot as always. Joan had wiggled out of her cave and glided down to the craggy pavilion where a female demon with cold eyes and large cinnamon colored wings stood. She hissed for attention and Joan, along with the others around her, straightened up.Â
  âThis hunt is for the head of the House himself.â The demon had said. âThe first one to bring back a Magma Pig will get a spot next to him at dinner this evening.â
Joan perked up. That was exactly what her poor reputation needed, so she had been one of the first to shoot off from the pavilion after the word was given.
She wasnât the best flier, especially because of searing back pain from the strain of her big wings on her little body, but she pushed through the screaming of her aching muscles this one time.Â
She flapped through the tunnels, barely dodging pillars of rocks and pointy stalagmites that seemed to be doing everything in their power to knock her out of the air. She spun through two reaching rock shelves and broke out into a large cave where a glowing pink waterfall flowed from a crevice in the wall, drifting into a winding river. Steam rose from the surface; everything down in the caverns seemed to be boiling hot. The sultry heat made her wingbeats sluggish and her scales feel like they were melting off, but she shook them out and scanned the cave.
There!
A Magma Pig was drinking by the river. She was huge, with fiery red pelt and streaks of gold that glowed like active lava. Her tucks were long and wickedly sharp, and she would definitely put up a fight, but Joan would win.
Joan flexed her claws, flashing her fangs in a smirk. She could already hear all the praise she would get when she brought back such a big swine. Her tail began to wag excitedly. She spread her wings and swooped--
But something stopped her mid-dive.
Piglets. Baby Magma Pigs.
There were three in total, and they frolicked out of a crack in the wall, grunting and squealing blissfully. Two began to playfight, while the other hobbled over to its mother and headbutted her leg affectionately. The mom made a loving noise, nuzzling the babyâs cheek, then submerged her snout back into the water for another drink.
Joanâs claws lost their slack. She hovered in the air, unable to bring herself to kill the family. What would the babies do without their mama? They would die!
  âWHAT ARE YOU DOING?â A voice suddenly boomed across the cavern. A large demon with orange-gold wings came zipping out of one of the tunnels, followed by two others. âAre you a demon or an angel? Kill that pig!â
Joan floundered, nearly falling right out of the air. The orange-winged demon sneered in disgust and shoved past her roughly. She spun down to the cave floor and hit a rock roughly.
  âWait--â She shouted, but one of the other demons already dove down and snatched the pig up, slicing her throat. The other one managed to grab two piglets and snap their necks, while the last one got away through a hole in the wall.
The baby was alone. It was going to die.
  âWhy didnât you kill it?â The orange-winged demon asked. âNo kill could be easier! Are you really that stunted and useless?â
  âI-I--â Joan pulled her wings around her like she thought they would protect her.
  âI bet she was worried about the little baby pigs.â The demon that had killed the mother said, landing with a thump and a splattering of pig blood. âShe didnât want to leave them all alone with no mommy to take care of them. The poor wittle furballs.â Her voice was mocking and cruel.
  âNo!â Joan cried. âThat isnât it! I-I was going to kill it! I-I just--â
  âSave it.â The orange-winged demon hissed. âI donât want to hear your excuses. Youâre pathetic.â
Joan had stared miserably at her feet. That day, she knew her treatment would only worsen, especially when the news of her failure got to the rest of the House of Pride. And it did.
For as long as she could remember, she was not like the other demons that prowled around Hell. They were all strong and big and powerful and knew what they were doing at all times. She was the exact opposite, it seemed, with her too big wings and too small body and too bright eyes. She wasnât enough, ever. No matter how much she sharpened her claws on rocks or filed her teeth to points with bones or perfected her magic, her attempts always blew up in her face--literally, sometimes.
She was just--messed up. And she didnât know how to fix herself.
The other demons saw her a mockery to their race. A waste of magic and scales. Their harassment became a ritual of sorts, a daily cycle of letâs stomp on Joanâs tail and letâs leave Joan stranded up on the tallest cliff because her wings were too weak and too big for her to properly fly and letâs dunk Joan into the scalding pools until she starts to drown and letâs rake our claws down Joanâs stomach again and again and again until she squeals like a stuck pig beneath our talons. It never ended.
And then, Cathy entered her life.
Cathy was like a rope ladder dropped from heaven--and in a way, she was. She was a fallen angel, banished from the ethereal world for reasons Joan didnât know. But even with her new horns and darkened scleras and black wings, she was still an angel in Joanâs eyes.
Cathy had saved her from a particularly painful beating from a trio of demons. She thought they would have ripped her tail right out of her back if Cathy hadnât come along and scared them off with very rude threats and mighty wingbeats and slashing claws. They didnât speak to each other, rather just exchanged looks before Cathy walked away silently, but Joan felt a connecting between the two of them.
So she started following Cathy around. She was like a duckling of sorts, always somewhere near Cathy, whether the fallen angel liked it or not. A silent bond was created--at least on Joanâs part. She felt safe and happy around Cathy, even if they barely interacted. Being near her was enough.
But of course, like every good thing in her life, Cathy was taken away.
One day, Cathy just--disappeared. Joan looked everywhere, searching every nook and cranny in Hell, but couldnât find a trace of the fallen angel. All that she had left of her were the things in her cave, which she started staying in to retain a shred of that connection they had. Cathyâs scent on ragged blue blankets were the only thing that kept her calm during anxiety attacks. She liked to pretend the covers were actually Cathyâs wings swaddling her and holding her close, protecting her from everything, no matter how different she was. And Cathy would be there when she looked up, smiling lovingly down at her, telling her how wonderful she was and how much she cared about her. Sure, Cathy never said that before or made any indications that she thought that way, but it was her fantasies that kept her going.
The abuse from other demons started back up shortly after that. Shoving, biting, scratching, vicious maiming that left her bloody and bruised--it all seemed so much worse than it did before. Perhaps because of what her attackers would say, telling her that Cathy left because of her, that she couldnât stand being around such a pathetic waste of space, that she would rather die than be around her for one more second, that she ran off into the human world because facing the dangers there would be better than having to be with her.
The last comment sparked something in Joanâs head mid-beating. If Cathy wasnât in Hell, then she was somewhere else.
After a year of Cathy being missing, Joan set off to the portal to the mortal realm.
Everyone said not to go in there. Everyone said they wouldnât make it out alive, but Joan still went anyway. All she brought with her was Cathyâs blue blanket, as the fallen angelâs scent would keep her going when she wanted to lay down and die.
And she did.
A lot.
The pits leading to the portal were worse than everyone said. They were dark, for one, and so tight in some places that Joan got stuck for several terrifying moments. There were also.../things/ down there. Awful things with sharp claws and hundreds of eyes and gnashing teeth. One that Joan encountered was pale white and wrinkly. It crawled across the cave walls and ceiling, only jumping down to cling to Joanâs back and shred her wings. She just barely managed to shake it off right as it was going to pull out her spine.
There was also something very big and very red and very scary. It broke Joanâs ribs to pieces when its tail swung into her chest. For a few moments, she stopped breathing, then splayed her claws and stuck them into the monsterâs eyes. It screeched and left her alone. For now.
By the time Joan finally got to the portal, she could only crawl, much too weak to stand up. Her chest was so bruised it looked black, she was bleeding all over, one of her horns was broken, her tail was bent at an abnormal position, and she couldnât even feel her wings anymore. In fact, she wasnât feeling a lot of things...the pain was starting to go awayâŚ
Joan collapsed into a pool of her own blood and began to weep. Everything hurt so badly. Maybe it wouldnât hurt if she just laid here for a little while⌠She didnât even have to go through the portal because when she looked up, Cathy was there, smiling at her and saying sweet things to her. Her ears were too clogged with blood to actually hear her, but she was sure they were the nicest, most loving comments ever.
Joan reached out to Cathy, and Cathy disappeared.
Only her blanket was there, so stained with blood there was only a single splotch of blue left. But Cathyâs scent still lingered.
Joan had to get up.
She crawled the rest of the way to the portal, clutching Cathyâs blanket to her chest. She leaned against the onyx mantle, breathing harshly. She stared into the swirling white mass before her, so bright it made her eyes prickle in discomfort.
  âCathyâŚâ She mumbled, feeling very dizzy. She wanted to rest. She was so tired⌠âWait...for me...Cathy⌠Iâm...Iâm comingâŚâ
Then, she reached out and touched the portal.
There were flashes of bright white and blinding silver. Joan screamed into the light, feeling like she was being burned alive. Her little body shook with violent tremors, then began to tingle intensely.Â
Was she dying? Was the portal really a trap to fry demons? Was this all a trick?
Would she never see Cathy again?
Joan opened her eyes to a clear blue sky. She was laying half in green grass that wasnât completely charred and half in water that didnât feel like it was going to boil her. Noises sounded all around her- distant talking, far away laughing children, croaking frogs, chirping birds.Â
She was here.
The mortal world.
She made it.
And when she looked up, she saw her.
Cathy.
She didnât have her wings and horns and tail, and her eyes looked normal, but it was Cathy.Â
  âCathy--â Joan staggered to her feet. She nearly blacked out, but clung to consciousness, which felt much weaker than it did in Hell, and began dragging her agony-infected body forward.
  âCathy, Cathy, Cathy, CathyâŚâ Joan mumbled over and over again. She clutched the bloody blanket close to her chest. What if Cathy got mad that she got it messy? Maybe she should go back to the pond and wash it really quickly⌠No, she had to see Cathy first.
Weird. Cathy seemed so happy with those humans around her. Werenât humans disgusting and weak and useless? Why did that one in the green shirt kiss her cheek like that? And was that Jane? She remembered that she had gone missing, too. She looked different as well. Did the humans do something to them? They must have cut off their wings and tail. She had to save Cathy!!
Joan tried to run, but her knees buckled and white hot agony rocketed through her entire being. She whimpered sharply.
  âCathy, please-- I need--you--â
One of the humans, one with short brown hair, turned its head in her direction and shouted something in shock. The others all looked over and had the same reaction. But Joan was only looking at Cathy.
She dropped the blanket and reached out her shaking hands.
  âCathyâŚâ
And then, the ground rushed up to meet her; she was back in the grass. Everything was starting to fade into darkness. She began to cry. She didnât want to die. Not without Cathy holding her.
But the blackness was closing in. She was so weak and everything hurt so much and she was just so tiredâŚ
The last thing she remembers was someone yelling her name, then everything cut out.
She hoped Cathy wouldnât be mad about the blanket.
#six the musical#six the musical au#six the musical fanfic#six the musical fanfiction#six fanfiction#six fanfic#catherine parr#joan on the keys#anne boleyn#anna of cleves#jane seymour#finding home
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A Path I Canât Follow (5)
Chapter 5: Thereâs Always Something Greater | Cal Kestis x Reader
Summary: It was a matter of life and deathâthe question is, should it be the life of many or one, the death of many or one? Cal Kestis makes what ought to be the biggest and hardest decision of his life as he is pitted with a question of high stakes and morals. He descends to the Dark Side and becomes an Inquisitor. A choice he openly made for the sake of saving you, even if you didn't know you needed it until it was too late.
Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis
Also posted in AO3
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 | Previous: Chapter 4 | Next: Chapter 6 | Masterlist
5 of ?
There was a pause in their battle. Cal and the Fourth Brother stand in either side of the room. In this predicament, it was a luxury to even have a breather. The two men slowly circled at one another from across the room.
The same questions burned Calâs mind. He didnât know which one to ask first. For his benefit of the doubt, he assumed that the Fourth Brother doesnât know about youânot mentioning you protected you from him in some wayâand that he was referring to his female companion who is the Inquisitor youâre currently facing off at this very moment.
âHow did you come to know this place?â Cal bellowed, demanding an answer. The Fourth Brotherâs silent treatment and grin was beginning to annoy him.
âWhy bother knowing such mundane things that can be answered by common sense?â
Knowing that it was hopeless to get a logical and direct answer from him, Cal scoffed in frustration.
âYouâre not getting that holocron!â the young Jedi snarled, perseverance burned in him as he pointed his lightsaber at the enemy.
And youâre not getting to her!
This provoked the Fourth Brother, causing him to initiate the duel. Once again, their blades are intercrossed, trapped in another dance of a duel. At this point, Cal had become more aggressive but calculatedâtiming his Force attacks, mentally coaching himself on what the Fourth Brotherâs next move is going to be, and conserving his energy for bigger attacks.
The desire to protect youâand everything you cared aboutâat all costs was one of Calâs motivations. Given that the Fourth Brother and his companion is a whole new threat, Calâs resolve held water.
The Fourth Brother sensed something else from Cal. The aggression combined with a precise coordination proved something of the Jedi. For once in his life, the Inquisitor might be facing someone who could be in the same caliber as his combat skills. He came out of his way to admitâin his mindâthat he had underestimated this young boy.
âOh, you have that fire in you. A glorious inferno!â The Fourth Brother sniggered tauntingly and grinned as he shifted all his weight on a deflecting Cal, their lightsabersâ colors mingling over the gloss of his soulless eyes. âTell me⌠whatâs your secret?â
âWouldnât you like to know!?â Cal snarled back, staggered him away to restart his stance.
âIf the Master could see you⌠Oh! Heâd practically take you in our ranks.â
âDonât count on it!â
Cal retaliated. Gathering up all his Force to send a wave towards the Fourth Brother, he sent the opponent flying and slammed his back hard against the cobblestone wall. However, this wasnât enough to break the Inquisitor yet. There was still fight in these two men. The duel felt like an eternity.
âOh, I most definitely will count on it,â the Fourth Brother hissed suggestively.
While on his knees, the Fourth Brother feigned and was mustering up all his energy as well to get back at Cal.
âAnd so shall the Grand Inquisitor!â he roared, darting through the air towards Cal.
The Fourth Brother threw punches and landed his elbows hard against Calâs jaw, disorienting the boy, followed by a series of lightsaber attacks. Fortunately, Cal was saved by his armorâthe belt straps had been severed and a gash tore the hard leather.
One kick to the rib and the Fourth Brother sends back the same wave towards the Jedi, hoisting up him in the air and throwing him further across their arena. Cal plowed through the ground, denting the silt. The Fourth Brother has gained the upper hand this time.
âIf I were you, Iâd keep an open mind, Jedi.â The Fourth Brother huffed, slicking back the lock of hair that fell out of place.
Heavy footsteps approached the scene. From the shadows, a second figure appeared. He was unlike anything Cal has ever seen before. He wagered it must be the Grand Inquisitor whom the Fourth Brother mentioned. Tall and gaunt, he walked in the same stride as the Chiss Inquisitorâexcept he had a thicker air of authority looming about himâyellow eyes glimmered menacingly over a face whose skin was white as bone, red streaks tattooed on his high forehead and the underside of his eyes, lines are literally etched all over his skin.
âHello⌠Cal Kestis,â the Pauâan hissed as he spoke.
Cal had this tongue tied. He wasnât quite sure how and what to respond to that.
âYouâre a promising child, Iâll give you that. Nearly at par with one of my best warriors. Itâs not every day Ezir meets someone who hasnât died in the next minute.â
Cal groaned as he tried to move and stand up, with a single abrupt wave of the Grand Inqusitorâs hand, the young Jedi is pinned down by an invisible weight, unable to move. The Pauâan slowly approaches the young man as he spoke.
âI know thatâfor a Jediâitâs hard to believe what Fourth Brother is saying. After all, he is an Inquisitor. Why should you trust him? But trust me, he was right on one thing: you ought to keep an open mind. And you listen to what I have to say.â
Cal broke free out of the Force that was holding him down, and struck back at the Grand Inquisitor to which he calmly deflected with his own lightsaberâit was a rather foolish move, brave yet foolish.
âTsk, I think Ezir didnât leave with enough fight in you for me,â
âTrust me, I think I have enough for the both of you,â Cal winced.
The Grand Inquisitor burst in a condescending laughter.
âAh, there it is!â
âWhat are you going to do with the village?â
âInteresting priority you have there. I wonât go into detail, I take you to be a smart boy. I will deploy all my troops on that sad excuse of a civilization into a garrison. Should they fight back, well,â he scoffed, smirking and imagining the horrendous scene that could possibly take place. âI think you can figure that out for yourself. Just remember the last time youâve seen an army suddenly storming in and shooting down everyone and everything in sight without question.â
A fire burned within Cal, violently thrashing and flailing within his very core, somewhat revitalizing him. The Grand Inquisitorâs provoking words became a catalyst for Calâs newfound energy. The boy never ceased to surprise the two Inquisitors. When he was standing close enough, he unlinked his lightsabers and attacked the Grand Inquisitor in a spinning motion. Having known every single lightsaber combat form, the Grand Inquisitor was unfazed at this and easily blocked it all, leaving nary a window of opportunity for the young Jediâhowever, Calâs spirit showed and proved to be invaluable, and it greatly attracted the Grand Inquisitor.
A pity to kill off such a talent. The menacing Pauâan thinks to himself while blocking Calâs attack with little to no effort.
Meanwhile, you believed to be faring well against the Eighth Sister. The duel continued on, your energy was slowly ebbingâyou were exhausted, and so is sheâbut one of you has to step out as the victor. She was beginning to steal the upper hand. Her litheness never faltered and continued fighting you every last fiber of her being.
The Eighth Sister, still in a brutal frenzy, sending blows at you with such vengeful rage that she got her reward of dealing damage on you. She swung her lightsaber in a diagonal streak, she had hoped she had broken skinâmuch to her chagrin, she only managed to damage your jacket and armor, and nicked on your shoulder.
âIâll do better in the next one, girlie!â she screeched.
She prepares herself for the next move, switching on her lightsaber into a spinning mode to lunge right at youâher target was your torso, she had hope to cut you down like ground meat. She thought thereâd be absolutely no way for you to get away from that.
The problem with these Inquisitors is that they underestimate the Jedi too much. You thought to yourself, sniggering at the context of the remark.
You managed to push her away from you with the Force, and you sensed that sheâs going for another one of her deadly combos the moment she regains her bearings.
Come on, think fast!
Your eyes wandered the entire room. You saw that she was standing between two pillars and a parapet on the verge of breaking hung above her head. Concentrating on the stone fixtures, you quickly extended your hands, your fingers curled into claws, slowly motioning your hands downward the pillars followed your directionâyou visualize the parapet crumbling down to the Eighth Sister in your mind, the said beam finally reduced to a large chunk of debris as it all crumbles down onto her.
Clouds of dust gathered and wafted about in the ruin. Everything was quiet again.
âSo much for a next one,â you quipped. Finally able to catch your breath.
Little did you know that the rumble of the collapse that youâve caused thundered across not just in the second level but in the first level as well. It temporarily caught the attention of Cal and the two Inquisitorsâeach had their own concerns.
âNahleiâŚâ The Fourth Brother mumbled under his breath.
You tried to take a step forward but you suddenly fell to your knees. You clutched your chest. It seems that the Eighth Sister has done a number on you. The searing pain was still fresh, you canât go on even if you wanted to. You figured youâd be knocked out cold before you could even actually reach the vault itself.
âCalâŚâ you muttered under your breath, reaching for your commlink. âCal⌠can you hear me?â
Your voice, albeit faint and fading, has reached Calâs ears. Everyone in the first level foyer has heard the sound of the collapsing stone thundering across the temple.
[Y/N]âŚ! Cal screamed in his thoughts.
âWeâll meet again, Jedi. This isnât over yet!â the Grand Inquisitor growled as he tossed out a flash bomb out of his pocket and escaped along with the Fourth Brother.
When the white light had dissolved from Calâs view, he was alone in the foyer.
âTheyâre goneâŚâ then he gasped, realizing you called to him via the commlink. â[y/n]!â
He rummaged his person to switch on the earpiece of his commlink.
â[y/n], are you alright?â
âY-YeahâŚâ you winced and groaned. âNo, not really.â
âHold on, Iâm coming to you. Where are you?â
âIâm inâŚâ your deep breaths popped and cracked through the speaker of the comm. Even only speaking made you feel sore. âIn the sanctum up ahead from the lobby, from the lobby⌠where we came in from. I didnât get to the holocron, Iâm sorry.â
Calâs heart ached as the sound of your sobs overtaking your shaky voice.
âDonât worry, Iâm coming to get you. Just stay there and find someplace to hide. The Inquisitors are here,â
âNo kidding, one did a number on me,â
âStay put. Iâm coming,â
âHurry, Cal⌠please, it hurtsâŚâ
The young Jedi, fleet-footed as he is, scaled the vine-ridden wall and finds himself standing in the east wing of the second level. Long vines hung between the wide gaps, they bridged his path from one point to the other. When the view of the circular lobby was in sight, he sprinted across the dead halls and went to the leftâwhere you ought to be. He entered the conclave and saw the pile of rocks that were once pillars and a parapet sitting in one side of the room. You were sitting on the ground, leaning against the fountainâs base while clutching your shoulder.
â[y/n]!â he exclaimed, his voice was mixed with reliefâthat youâre aliveâand worried about your wounds.
âCalâŚâ you weakly mumbled.
âCome on, letâs get you out of here,â
âYouâre hurt tooâŚâ you gasped, reaching for the tear across his armor.
âItâs nothing. Come on,â
He scooped you up in his arms, careful not to hit any of the spots where it hurts you, and cradled you close to him like a baby. A weak arm hooked over his shoulder, you tried your best to hold on tight to him.
âIâm sorry⌠I didnâtâŚâ
âShhh, itâs not your fault, hon. Itâs not your fault,â he cooed, nuzzling his cheek against your hair.
He sprinted through the lobby, jumped over the gaps, the weight of you in his arms was nothing. Since you werenât able to move well without hurting yourself, Cal managed to find an alternate exit. He leapt up in the air towards a platform where a gaping hole in the wall leads back to the outside worldâthe only problem is that the landing was probably a twenty-foot drop.
âHold on tight to me, okay, [y/n]?â
You nodded weakly, you raised your good arm and held on tight on his chest, feebly clutching onto the fabric of his jumpsuit before makes the leap of faith. The Varans have heard him and they croaked at the sight of Cal. He was relieved that your mounts were still there, untouched and unscathed. Your Varan specifically anxious at the scent of cauterized blood and fleshâVarans were omnivorous creatures, but your connection with the animal did not stimulate its hunger, the creature perceived you as a companion and master. It sniffed your person and shook its head as it croaked in alarm.
âShe canât ride,â Cal spoke to the animal and mounted you on his Varan instead. âYouâll have to catch up with us.â
The reins of your Varan were long enough to tether it with Calâs reins so it wonât stray without a rider. He secures you with both of his arms acting like a harness, letting you lean against him for the rest of the trip, and takes the reins. Fortunately enough, the Varans maintained a similar pace as Cal rode through the wasteland, on the way back to the villageâgiven that it was the nearest place of shelter for the two of you.
Back at the temple, in the rubble where the Eighth Sister was buried alive in, it turns out that the female Inquisitor was never felled by you.
A fist tore through the debris and she pulled herself out of her supposed grave. She comes out growling, cold blue eyes blazing with a vengeance, her juvenile behavior might be the only thing that died in that collapse. She was rejoined by Ezirânamely, the Fourth Brotherâas well as the Grand Inquisitor.
âI hope you can walk that off, Nahlei,â the Fourth Brother quipped.
âWhen I find that bitch, Iâll make sure sheâll never have to walk at all!â she roared.
The Grand Inquisitor smirked at the young womanâs remark.
Good, her hate didnât die off with the rubble.
âConserve that rage for another time, Eighth Sister, you will have the chance of utilizing that in the most opportune moment.â
âIt would be my immense pleasure, Grand Inquisitor,â
âCome. We still have much to discuss about those Jedi,â
The pair followed the Grand Inquisitor back to their ship, eager to lay out the plans they have in mind for this planet and for you and Cal.
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Can I please have a mutant!R x Natasha you can decide the powers. R makes an entrance with Thor during the battle of Wakanda? Both R and Thor kick ass and maybe some soft resolve with R and Nat? Thanks
I planned on making this short but instead, itâs 1119 words.
To clarify once again. Iâm not doing B!D day today, Iâm dealing with some family stuff and need a distraction, not all asks will be answered just whatever ones strike any inspiration or are quick to write whilst on mobile.
---
You may have been a fighter, trained by some of the best in the world and currently dating the one and only, Black Widow- so that definitely helped keep you on your toes. You also carried the mutant gene. Your powers are under control now, well for the most part. When youâre stressed out they tend to be a little unpredictable.Â
You have the ability to teleport anywhere in the world and as you would now learn anywhere in the nine realms, at any point in time. You found that out when you appeared on the Guardians ship, Thor saved your life. You had no idea what was going on or where you were, so your natural instinct was to follow your friend. He asked you how you ended up in space, you told him all you could remember.
You had gotten into some petty fight with Natasha not too long after the Avengers âbroke upâ so to speak. You wanted some time off from the world, knowing you could go anywhere and be gone in seconds was a little more ideal than constantly running back and forth on a quinjet. Nat however, wanted absolutely nothing more, but it was too risky. If she wanted a life with you itâd have to be like this for a while, but being stubborn like you were you couldnât just agree to have a life on the run, the reality of it was too much.
All you wanted was to be back on Earth, wrap in Natâs arms.Â
You tried, you really did. Every time you landed somewhere and regained your strength youâd try again but like every attempt before, you failed. Thor told you that you needed more than a few hours of rest, after all, youâre on a completely different planet. He promised to get you home, after all, he had a bone to pick with Thanos. You watched beside Groot as Thor took the brunt of a star, again promising to get you back to Earth. It was painful to watch, but Thor was always full of surprises.
When he came back, you begged him not to leave, he made a promise to you and he was never one to break them. Eitri was trying to find a handle for the weapon, whilst Groot literally became one, you watched as it flickered with small bursts of lightning.Â
The next thing you knew, Thor wrapped an arm around you and then you were back on Earth. Casting a glance behind you, you caught a glimpse of Nat, relief washing over you, before running into action with Thor, Rocket, and Groot. You had to fight your way out of this and youâd be damned if you died before speaking with Nat.
The battlefield was bloody, mudded and chewed up by destruction. Making your way closer to Natasha you got snagged by one of Thanosâ alien creatures- it was far from ideal but right now it was the least of your worries. Wanda was now in sight, using her powers to protect Nat and Okoye. She effectively took out a small portion of her surrounding too.Â
Youâd be proud if it wasnât for the burn that slowly crept over your body. You pushed yourself harder, running closer to your girlfriend, taking out threats along the way. Wanda was at least two yards out from you, just before you could call out her name she was knocked to the ground by Proxima- one of Thanosâ âchildrenâ.Â
âHeâll die alone, as will you.â
Natasha and Okoye had made their way into the pit by now. More than ready to fight. âSheâs not alone.â
Proxima had been a strong opponent for them both, taking each hit and dishing out more with some extra strength. It wasnât long before you got involved, shortly after her foot collided with Natâs face. Throwing yourself into action, trying to give the others just, enough time to recover. Thankfully it had. Nat was back on her feet, both of you working as a team. Before you were caught on your injured side, falling to the ground, watching in horror as your girlfriend was overpowered. You tried to push yourself up, but the burning sensation was spreading. Wanda took care of it, then turned her attention to you.
Your girlfriend took over, running her fingers through your hair. "Where did you go? You ran and I couldn't-"
"I couldn't get back to you. I tried and just couldn't get home."Â
It wasn't exactly the most ideal place to apologize or explain yourself, nor was it place to pull her into you- with the ongoing battle and all. But you couldn't help yourself, it'd been days- well to you it had only been days to everyone else it'd been a year maybe longer- resting your palm against her cheek, "I love you." Leaning down, she kissed you for the first time since your disappearance. "I love you too. But we're not dead yet, so get up, brush yourself off and let's go kick some ass."
The four of you reunited with Steve and Vision, ready to fight with whatever came next. A portal of sorts opened up revealing Thanos, sharing a glance with Nat before you watched the Titan make light work of your team. "I'll follow you anywhere Nat, I hope you know that."
Rhodey fell from the sky before you took of running, the ground shook with every step, you watched Avengers fall, one by one before you fell too, encased in rubble.
The only sight you could see was Wanda, single-handedly holding back Thanos. When Vision's stone exploded it created enough power to break the rubble surrounding you, giving you a moment of freedom. Crawling out, you tried to pull yourself up, but there was no way you could do it yourself.
Once Thanos snapped his fingers, he vanished and others started to turn to dust. The snap created a light, bright enough to blind you. With blurry vision you watched as Bucky turned to dust, Wanda was next to go. Thor helped you to your feet, the minute you got yourself stable, you started crying out for Natasha, every breath burned, but you didn't care. You couldn't find her. She wasn't in sight. You pleaded with yourself, your voice becoming more watery with every shout.
A riddle came from the tall grass, the blonde hair of your girlfriend came into view, she had been calling out for you too. As soon as your eyes connected you threw yourself into her. "You're okay."
"I'm here. Shh, it's okay. I've got you."
Her arms wrapped tighter around you, trying her best to avoid your wound she pulled you closer.
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Terminus | Self Paragraph
TRIGGER WARNING: MURDER
In the half light of the alley, Haydenâs body casts disfigured patterns on the grey walls. The only change in them is his chest rising and falling, and his hands that he hadnât even realized were shaking so badly. His jaw stung, he could taste the metallic blood that dripped from his nose. His right eye was barely able to stay open but it had to because he couldnât stop staring. He couldnât stop himself from staring as the blood matted itself into his hair or leaked out onto the ground. Hayden knew he should be running right now, he should be getting to a car and driving south never stopping for anything but gas. But he couldnât. He couldnât even move.Â
âIâm just going down to the 7/11, Riss, you need anything?â Hayden shouted as he sat on the browning, beat-up, second-hand couch and tied the laces of his boots. Since the fire, Hayden and Marissa had started to put patches over the last few years. Theyâd talked things out properly and had come to a mutual understanding with each other to let things die; to turn to a new chapter. It was refreshing having his best friend back. But, he was worried about her mental state, and after Scottyâs house party where she had been beaten up by some jumped up ex-business associates son he was worried about her safety too. He knew better than anyone how the past can come to haunt you.Â
There was no reply to his question, he furrowed his brow. âMarissa?â He called out as he moved through the apartment towards the room sheâd been staying in. His fist rattled the wood before slowly opening the door. âRiss--â he said gently as he put his head through the crack and then saw she wasnât in. âWeird...â. He was sure he hadnât heard the door open. Hayden went to the front and sure enough, her keys were gone. Not giving it too much more thought, he grabbed his own set and threw them in his pocket before heading out.
Phone in hand, Hayden texted whilst he was walking into the center of Dayton. Let me know if you want anything in for when you get home, Iâll be at the 7/11 in twenty minutes so you got until then. You good? He pressed send and slid his phone back into his pocket, replacing it with a cigarette and lighter. There was always a sense of satisfaction as his thumb rolled over the metal flint wheel and created a spark first time. It wasnât as good as that first lung fill from the first drag, but it was a close second.Â
For being in California, Dayton had an eery chill this late at night. The wind whipped around Hayden and caused him to pull his jacket tighter around his body as he jogged across the road onto the other sidewalk and turned the corner. He could hear the buzz of life ahead of him in the nightlife district. He looked down at his wrist; 11:09. It was the hour of the night that determined the following seven. Either you were calling it a day and heading home to bed, or you were committing to seeing the sunrise. There were no half measures in Daytonâs scene; all in or all out.
Hayden didnât want any trouble, and he certainly didnât want to be roped into staying out any longer than he had intended to be away from home for. He was trying to sober up a little bit, trying to stop taking the edge off every five hours which was the state he had got to before Marissa had moved in. So, he decided to take the back alley route through the club scene, a concrete maze he had worked his way around when escorting bloody, beaten and bruised patrons of The Labyrinth away from the business without drawing any untoward attention.Â
He was just getting to the back of the business in question when his attention was taken away from his path by the backdoors flinging open followed by a young man being quite literally thrown out into the alley. âIf you show your face in here again, you wonât be able to walk for a month! Youâre being watched, dickhead.â. The venomous tones of one of Ainsleyâs other henchmen spat before slamming the doors closed. The man stumbled up to his feet and staggered to the doors, smashing his fists on them.Â
âI didnât fucking cheat! Since when is being more clever than the dealer cheating?!â He shouted with pain, panic, and fear clear as day in his voice.Â
Hayden sighed and shook his head, dropping his gaze and composing himself as he felt that guilt begin to flood through his body. He could deal with it when he was involved. When he was the one throwing the punches and making the decisions. When the adrenaline was coursing through his veins, causing a better high than any combination of cocaine and heroin. He could deal with it then. But, watching and hearing the aftermath of actions he too committed was almost too much. It pulled at his moral heartstrings. Especially today. The anniversary of his Father getting murdered for mistakes he made.Â
âYouâll pay for this!â The guy carried on, clearly on some kind of adrenaline side effect where things were coming out like word vomit. âThis whole place will pay for this! I-- I-- Iâll go to the press! Ainsley FUCKING Slater is going to be on every newspaper front page tomorrow!â
Haydenâs eyes flicked open, darkness flooded into his pupils. His chest dropped and his hands curled into fists. His jaw tensed, teeth clenched. Open the fucking doors. Bring him back in. Take him out of my reach. He prayed that if anyone was on the other side of those fire doors that they heard his threats, and would take him in for round two. Please.
âNo-one fucks with a Weston and gets away with it!âÂ
Weston.Â
Rage consumed Hayden, it was an amber that constantly burned in the pit of his stomach but the moment he heard that name it was like someone had doused it in oil and sent it blazing. His head snapped up and across to the sound of the voice and sure enough, there he was; Tate Weston, the red-head that beat up his best friend. The little brat who thought he could steal from his place of work. The fucking dead man walking who threatened Ainsley.Â
âYou think youâre so big and hard, donât you?â Hayden yelled as came out of the shadows of the joining alleyway into the dimly lit backway of the casino.Â
âI donât think, I know. You think this place can stand up to the power my family has? This place wonât last a press campa--â Smack.
His fist smashed across Tateâs nose, the cracking sound of bone echoed in his ears. The red-head whelped in pain as crimson leaked from his nostrils. Hayden pulled his fist back and plowed it straight into Tateâs stomach like a hitting a train head-on. When Tate coughed, dark purple sprayed out over Haydenâs lower leg and his shoes. He staggered backward, holding a hand in the air like a white flag. âOkay, okay, okay, s-- st--â he coughed again, blood splattering up the side of a trashcan he used for support. âStop--â Tate shallowly panted as he collected himself.Â
Haydenâs hands were shaking as it began to physically hurt to hold himself back. âIs that what Marissa said to you?!â He yelled. âIs that what she begged after you hit her the first time?! What about the second?! What about when she was laying on the floor and you laid your foot into her ribs for good fucking measure!â Haydenâs powerful voice boomed off the metal in the passageway. âI should kill you!â He swallowed, taking another step to Tate. âI should fucking kill you!âÂ
Tate took a staggered breath before pushing himself up to his feet and squaring up against Hayden. âYeah? Well th-- then why am I still alive?â He bit back through gritted teeth before making the last wrong decision of his life; fight back. Tateâs arm left his stomach and pulled backward before springing out to the others' cheek, sending Haydenâs head flying right. He staggered on the spot to keep himself from falling and after regaining his balance was able to get another hit on the bartender, cutting up through his jaw and eye socket.Â
The darkness completely shrouded Hayden. It consumed and took over him like a deadly virus, attacking every last good morale in his body. His mistakes had already cost his Father his life; was letting this rich kid go free going to ruin another person he cared about? Yes. It was time he took his own action, wasnât it? He needed to make sure he wouldnât speak to the press; that he couldnât speak to the press. The was a primal sound that came from deep within Haydenâs stomach, a growl that took him back to the dark ages.Â
He grabbed hold of Tateâs collar. There was a rasp as the material ripped under the pressure of his grip. There was a ringing in Haydenâs head from the blows the ginger had managed, but that was all that was in there. Everything else was silent; focused on the task. There was no moral dilemma, no attempt to hold his thinking to account. He was going kill him.Â
Tate must have been able to see that in his eyes because the man suddenly changed his tune. He started begging, but Hayden couldnât hear what he was saying, it was like he was speaking underwater or through soundproof glass. Hayden pulled his fist back and delivered a strike. Then another, then another until he was pounding at Tateâs face, breaking every socket and bone structure it held. His own knuckles popped at the force, the pain coursing through his arm but never slowing him down until the collar he had been holding onto snapped and Tateâs lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Haydenâs foot slammed into his chest before he stumbled backward, eyes open wide.
                               Everything stopped.
In the half light of the alley, Haydenâs body casts disfigured patterns on the grey walls. The only change in them is his chest rising and falling, and his hands that he hadnât even realized were shaking so badly. His jaw stung, he could taste the metallic blood that dripped from his nose. His right eye was barely able to stay open but it had to because he couldnât stop staring. He couldnât stop himself from staring as the blood matted itself into his hair or leaked out onto the ground. Hayden knew he should be running right now, he should be getting to a car and driving south never stopping for anything but gas. But he couldnât. He couldnât even move.
âMove... Câmon... Move...â He finally snapped back to reality, dropping down beside Tateâs face and taking it in his hands. Hayden tried slapping his cheeks, he lifted as much of an eyelid as he could find among all the blood and swelling. There was nothing. No movement, no pupil dilation. Hayden grabbed hold of his arm, his heart smashing against his ribcage as his fingers wrapped around his wrist. âCâmon, câmon-- you bastard, câmon,â he muttered as he tried to move his fingers around to find a pulse.Â
                                  Nothing.
Hayden swallowed but there was nothing but blood to go down. His mouth was dry. His skin faded color and-- Fuck, he was going to be sick. His feet stumbled over themselves as he made his way quickly to a nearby trash can, pushed the lid off and threw up into it. What the fuck had he done? What the fuck was he going to do? He canât go back to prison. He canât go back to the East coast âcause heâll end up like fucking Tate. Think. Think... Ainsley... This is her place, right? She could-- she could do something, right? Anything? Dylan... Dylan knew the streets, she knew Dayton, she knew the cops...Â
He nodded to himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and fumbled over the keys. He pressed Ainsleyâs name and put the phone to his ear as the dialing tone came on. He paced. He made the mistake of looking back to the lifeless body and almost threw up again. Fuck. FUCK. Â
âAinsley?â He practically whispered when the woman picked up the phone. âI need you-- I need you to fucking get Dylan, and-- Ainsley, just fucking listen to me! I need you to come to the back of the casino. I-- Ainsley, heâs fucking dead.â Â
                                               Heâs fucking dead.
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Winnerâs Curse Ch. 19
Well this came as surprise to me. Literally, the whole idea came to me before I was going to bed so I wrote it the next morning, and here we are. Features some Aladdin quotes, see if you can spot them. Enjoy!Â
âAnd then Icarus, what a guy, he is so convincing as Hades, Pain and Panic start following him!â Calix hooted.
âNo way, man that didnât actually happen.â Jay challenged Calixâs story.
âNo, no Iâve heard Icarusâ Hades impression, heâs good.â Aziz confirmed, âHey, remember Icarusâ Hades impression after three drinks at Dionysusâ bacchanal?â
Calix gulped back the drink Circe had left in their shared room and where he, Aziz, and Jay were passing the time sharing stories while waiting around for Uma and Jordanâs arrival.
It had been a pretty placid three days since Jordan reversed Jayâs hypnosis for Malikâs last wish. At first there was a panic when they realized how suspicious it would be if Jay was no longer under Jafarâs thrall but they fixed that with Jordan giving him glowing red contacts. Allowing them to have another infiltrator at the Coven meetings besides Jade, Calix and Uma.
The door opened and Jordan slipped into the room, gingerly cradling her lamp in her hands. But no Uma behind her.
These three placid days had driven Uma to distraction since they were laying around on their asses and not doing anything so she arranged for this new meeting so theyâd find something else to do besides eavesdrop for news of what was happening at next weekâs Summer Solstice.
But even though this meeting was so important that she felt the need to threaten them with slow, graphic strangulation with her tentacles while Harry used his hook to disembowel him, apparently their leader was late.
âWhereâs Jade?â Calix asked, throwing back another shot. It was a fair question since Jordanâs lamp was still technically under Jadeâs possession. Or so the Coven thought.
âShowing makeup techniques to Lala and Malik.â Jordan answered.
âOh right, Lala mentioned that to me this morning.â Aziz warily eyed the fifth shot Calix gulped down.
âOh, she did? You talk about things other than the plan?â Jordan smoothly slid between him and Calix, her voice was suspiciously too nonchalant.
âYeah, conversations spawn into different topics. Thatâs what happens when two people hang out with each other.â Aziz said a little testily with how Jordan was scanning his face like she was searching for some secret that heâd be careless enough to slip.
âOh you and Lala hanging out together.â Jordan pursed her lips lightly, sounding way too similar to a disapproving aunt, âCan we have a private conversation in my lamp.â
Before Aziz could suss out whatever she was trying to pull and where this was coming from, Jordan had transported them into her lamp.
âDo you have a crush on Lala?â She blurted out accusingly.
Aziz decided to go for a joke, âI-I donât know about me crushing her, bu-but I canât blame her if the reverse is true. I mean, look at me.â
Jordan stared with an unamused raised eyebrow.
âAziz, I know you.â She started, as if that explained why she was so sure she found the romance of the century after two innocent sentences, âI've seen you go through this before. Youâre just hanging out with a girl but then you start talking about every topic under the sun. And then you get a crush and youâre all like âShe's smart and fun, sheâs got these eyes that just...and her hair wow! And her smile!â
âThen you go on a date that doesnât really go anywhere for whatever reason and get pushed aside. Remember, Lonnie, and Ruby, and Alexandria and Alfonsa, and Arabella, and her twin sisters, woah! Now that I list them out, you date a lot of Tritonâs granddaughters.â
âWhat is your point? What does that have to do with me and Lala? Not that there is anything happening.â Aziz felt himself gulping back the nervousness that he knew exactly what she was talking about even as he denied it.
âOh please, youâre half smiling while you say her name!â
âIâm not!â Aziz unmanly squawked and cleared his throat into a deeper contralto, âI do not.â
âMy point is itâs one thing to date an Ak. You get your heart broken. But a Vk? Sheâll try to steal your throne and break your heart.â Jordan said.
âSteals your throne and breaks your heart. Sounds the title of a sex tape. Do you want dibs or can I have it?â Aziz took a shot in the dark to try joking his way out of this again. âNow is not the time to joke about the title of our sex tapes. This is serious!â âYouâre still hung up on, âCan your friend do this?â Itâs a bit obvious.â Aziz pointed out.Â
âOh, you wanted to call your first sex tape, âA whole new world,â like thatâs original.â Jordan shot back. âAnd the âWelcome to the Cave of Wondersâ piece you did with Calix was a unique one?â Aziz retorted.Â
âFor your information, I couldnât choose any title but that because.. wait wait wait? Now is not the time.â
âAziz Ali iban Aladdin, explain yourself right now.â Jordan crossed her arms. âJordan, weâve been over this. Youâre not my mom.â Aziz huffed at the use of his full name. âYouâre right, Iâm not. Your mom doesnât know about what happened in Odiferous during spring break. Now I have a phone and I have video. So tell me about your feelings for Lala.â Â
âYouâre jumping to conclusions.â Aziz said exasperatedly which was no use since she was ignoring anything that came out of his mouth.
âWhen did you first feel something more?â Jordan demanded.
âRarw. Rrrawr. Meow? Are you understanding me at all?â Aziz asked the stony faced leopard man.
Aziz had to admit some of his attempts to talk to the leopard-men was out of boredom. He was starting to get a bit stir crazy being stuck in the castle all day pretending to be Jade or Lalaâs slave boy. He could understand why Uncle Genie hated being in the lamp. It was so boring, having to wait for permission to do things and the things you were allowed to do was stuck inside. No running around the corridors and flipping off roofs with wind rushing through your hair or the pit in your stomach when you almost break your neck.
He missed it.
And although Lala was pretty focused in studying the Atlantean texts her mother laid out for her, even she seemed to be getting bored because at random moments, she would angrily shut her book and demand to hear Aziz talk about Agrabah.
He had to admit that if he had a choice, heâd rather be with Jordan and the others trying to make a plan to escape or at least go outside. Talking about Agrabah was getting to be the highlight of his day.
He had started with daring adventure stories about the things his parents used to get into before the Great Uniting like when they had to fight a landshark or the time his dad literally lost his head to the decapitated wizard, Caliph Kapok, and they had to get body and head back together again. He had lots of those stories, Genie often said they could create their own tv series, possibly an animated one for kids to enjoy.
And then, upon Lalaâs numerous aside questions, he started describing Agrabah with its alluring spices, chests of gold and diverse and eccentric cast of merchants and travelers that lived in the Seven Deserts. He described the bad like the previous-rampant poverty that seemed similar to the Isle albeit with more head chopping from fellow humans than from a bitter decapitated wizard. It was embarrassing but one time he looked at the ornate diamond-encrusted sand-dial and saw that he had passed over an hour talking about his home. He hadnât meant to but it just came out. He loved his home so much and describing it felt like he was back there on the dunes for a little while.
He had never talked to anyone about his home before. Jordan already knew what it was like obviously, and no one at Auradon Prep cared beyond the merchandise they could buy at the kazbah. It was so much more than that to him. Living there was an experience, an adventure. You never knew where the smell of spices could lead you or what the secret nooks and crannies would reveal.
The thing was Lala seemed just as enthralled with the place as he was. Usually when he discussed his home, people would shudder in horror at the thought of being accidentally turned into a rat due magic gone wrong and seeing the world from down below or cringed at the thought of getting sand in uncomfortable places after intense competitions of sand surfing.
But Lala looked at him with a sparkle of excitement in her eye and would occasionally point out fun variations to try like horse racing only instead of across the desert, race under the desert, jumping to the few dry spots that were present in the muddy underbelly.
He hoped that if they succeeded in defeating the Coven, Lala would visit Agrabah one day. He had a feeling that the adventures theyâd get into together would be amazing. Potentially life threatening. But fun nonetheless. Heâd love to watch her go against Fashoom. Or better yet, back to back against the giant scorpions guarding kanz quadim. With his wits and knowledge and her skill and cunning, theyâd be an unbeatable team. Itâd be fun to go with someone who wanted to be there.Â
Normally, he went with Jordan but she said it was only because it was her obligation to keep him from breaking his neck and/or all the bones in his body. Her words. And his few Agrabah friends who would be game to go, were commoners who had to work during the day and it would be unfair for him to ask them to ditch just because he wanted some fun.Â
Yeah, itâd be fun to explore the hidden valleys of the Seven Deserts with her. He looked back to the white-haired girl where she was still bent over a book of indecipherable Atlantean words and figures, so he turned back to Kaj II, Usulan II and Muviro II. Lalaâs leopard men she had named after people she knew would annoy her mother.
Aziz growled with two purrs spaced between like he had heard Raj do but the leopard men looked at him like he was an idiot. He wasnât sure he was even speaking cat-language but it was better than accidentally challenging him to a fight so heâd take it.
âWill you stop with the ridiculous sounds, youâre not speaking leopard. Better stick to monkeys.â Lala cut through his attempts at conversing.
âHow would you know? You said you donât speak leopard.â Aziz shot back, happy that there was some element of human conversation. How the hell she lived in a jungle for days on end without human interaction was beyond his capabilities. âTrue. However, I know what a leopard sounds like and you donât sound like a leopard. More like a sick alley cat.â
âExcuse me, priestessâ Aziz rolled his eyes, and made another purr-growly sound at the leopards just to be contrary.
When could he go outside? When? When? When?
No, it was stupid. He couldnât go outside and risk looking like he was escaping and ruin the whole damn mission requiring the others to get his ass out of the dungeon again.
He shuddered, gingerly touching the cheek where Staqauit had struck him numerous times, the malicious laughter of the cat twins taunting him about his impending death.
He needed to do something. Being stuck here with just his thoughts was going to drive him insane.
âHello?â
âHuh what?â
âI said,'' Lala cleared her throat, âIf you want to sound more leopard-like, start with a growl in your throat while meowing and add like youâre going to scream.â She demonstrated her leopard yowl which did get  the leopard menâs attention as they looked around for sign of attack or danger.
Aziz tried to mimic what Lala did with her instructions but failed part way through as a tickle caught in his nose before his attempted scream and he fell into a coughing fit, painfully hacking his throat.
Aziz panted, catching his breath while Lala had the grace to look back at her book and pretend not to be amused, âOkay maybe talking to cats is not my thing. But you got a leg up me with your feline self.â
âFeline self?â Lala cocked her head curiously, bringing once again to Azizâs mind, âCuriosity killed the cat.â
âYou know, your eyes, the leopards, the-âÂ
âYou think I was born with these eyes? You think Iâm part cat?â Lala questioned. âNooo,â Aziz hedged, already seeing he was going to be wrong, âNot anymore. Itâs just your mom has the same eyes so I-â
âItâs spell.â Lala explained, âMy mom did it when she got her staff. She did it to me when magic got through to the Isle. It helps me understand the leopards and for them to understand my orders, and it helps my reflexes. There is always a way to improve. Not that I needed improving, but Iâll admit some leopard senses are better than humanâs. Like smell. Now I can smell everyoneâs scent a mile away.â Â .
âScent?â âYes, your natural scent. You smell like all that baklav Jordanâs been giving you.â She sniffed the air around him again, âSand. Jasmine. Musk.â
âWhat does Jordan smell like?â Aziz asked curiously, and a little relieved that he didnât smell worse like blood and sweat and general stink from not showering for two weeks.
âHmm I canât get a clear smell. You know, not objects per say. But she smells like pheromones, sometimes like fire, sand and wind. Mainly reeks of desperation.â
âWell weâre all in desperate straits here.â Aziz chuckled even though it wasnât really that funny. Well sort of. Jordan absolutely hated not being in control. Or at least looking like she wasnât in control. Sheâd freak if she knew that she quote unquote âreeked of desperation.â
âWhat about Jay?â
âSweat, oil, grease, brass, musk, dirt. Something else I canât tell which usually means someoneâs hiding something or lying. Not a surprise there. Heâs lucky no one else can smell him, the stench of oil and deceit is unbearable on him.â
âYeah, good thing. I doubt heâd have a lot of admirers around him if he did.â Aziz said, feeling his mind wander off to too familiar but inevitable train of envious thought.Â
âAdmirers? He has admirers in Auradon? I thought you people didnât like thieves and bad guys. Why is he popular?â
âHeâs good now.â Aziz reminded her, but couldnât stop the bitterness creeping into his voice as he thought of the crowds praising Jay as he scored yet another goal. All the girls and some guys ooing at him and being utterly charmed as he showed off that he stole their wallets. Or if he executed a pretty decent backflip. The guy looked so cool and attractive no matter what he did. And that bad boy act made him even cooler in everyoneâs eyes.
âHeâs a good thief like Aladdin,â he remembered hearing someone say and Aziz had burned. Good thief?! Jay wasnât a good thief! Jay wasnât stealing things in Auradon because he was hungry or wanted to give to the poor. He stole because he was greedy. Aziz could steal too, Dad taught him the tricks, but when he showed off, he got no applause. They thought he was being inappropriate for a prince of his station.
Or now that Jay was here, it was a second-rate kind of steal. He could steal a watch from someone, but Jay could steal a personâs computer and lunch bag. He got the bigger score.
âPeople love him and his parkor and stupid tourney goals.â Aziz genuinely growled. He felt his blood pump at how everyone were magnets drawn to his presence while he waited in the wings of the tourney field. They did all the same activities, but Jay was better. People were saying he was equal to Aladdin.
If he was forgettable before Jay came around, now he was just invisible.
And honestly useless compared to Jay. He knew Jordan invited him on this mission because she trusted him and it would be breaking unofficial rule that if one of them went on a life changing save the world adventure, the other had to come too, that was just how things were done. But had he really done anything useful?
No, he had gotten captured. They all had gotten captured but he was the only one who had almost died. Because he was mortal, untrained and weak.
The thoughts came again. Had really been less than a week since he had been in the dungeon? Less than a week but at times he still could feel it as if it had been hours ago.
He could remember it all, some of it was blurred darkness. The only thing registering was that he was in pain. But he remembered the beginning.
Staqauit wasted no time grabbing his throat with one hand and choking him, Chimera and Illusion wrapped their arms around him almost as if they were giving a comforting hug. The thought was quickly diminished as their claws tore through his shirt and dug into his skin, he could feel it, feel the slight curve of their sharpness like a hook that wouldnât be able to get out. And they didnât no matter how he fruitlessly thrashed.
But it was only the beginningâŚ
Just as he saw the world fuzz around the edges Staqauit threw him to the ground with Chimera and Illusion still stuck to him.
âSquishâ Aziz wanted to scream at the pain that entered his torso and at the sickening sound of his blood squirting out. It felt his insides were dipped into boiling water. Â
But he didnât, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He was supposed to be a hero, he would not admit weakness like this. He would use his wits to get out of it.
But he had barely time to think up a clever escape as he vainly scrambled to stop the blood from gushing out more. He didnât recall any of the princes or his father ever being stabbed mid-battle.
Chimera and Illusion extricated themselves from him, their low voices purring contentedly at the pain wrought.
Aziz tried to get up but he couldnât. He felt the stabbing pain even though he wasnât being hit anymore. He couldnât concentrate. He just felt the agony. He struggled to his feet but the muscles in his legs gave out as he slipped on the puddle of his own blood that was seeping the floor.
âAh ah ah, you think Iâm done with you?â Staqauitâs accented voice sneered, âThat was only a minor surface wound.â
Aziz didnât look at the man. He was too concerned with trying to stand up straight again, but that was for naught when he felt the scraping cement of what seemed to be a boulder dropped on his back.
âCarry this to the other side of the room. Double time.â Staqauit ordered, his rapier scraping the ground in front of Azizâs face.
Aziz didnât know why he thought it was a good idea. Perhaps because he truly couldnât think of what else to do. He rationalized to himself in some irrational way that if he did this, maybe Staqauit would get bored. Maybe heâd survive. Â So he did as Staqauit ordered. He tried to lift the boulder.
He felt his hands bleed as they scraped and tensed to keep the boulder steady on his back. Bent down so low that his knees touched his chest. Pressing hard on the wound.
âAt least itâs stopped bleeding,â was the sole hysterical thought in his mind. His lungs felt they were burning and just pounding his chest as if to get out of his body. Blood rushed in his ears and the slow smack of Staqauitâs whip on the floor, keeping time, sounded like gunshots to his ears.
He wasnât breathing right. He knew that. Aziz felt like he had been running for miles. His throat felt the need for oxygen and his eyes watered. But he managed to get one foot forward, his thoughts running wild.
Where were the others? When was Jordan going to come back? For he knew Jordan would come to him the moment she could as she had since he was 4. What if that ruined the mission? That she failed because he was too weak to save himself?
Then his mind took a turn to what he had been suppressing the moment Staqauit got hold of this throat. What if this was it? What if this was how he was going to die?
His knees buckled at the thought and he fell to the ground, allowing the boulder to drop from his back to feel the sting of the whip. This time he didnât hold back the scream.
That scream was like a whistle for them as Chimera and Illusion pounced, their punches, scratches and kicks indistinguishable from one another.
And there was moreâŚ. he remembered the water boarding vaguely but he was glad he mostly blacked out of that, the boulder and the choking was enough for him.
But when he woke up and saw Lala, all he felt was shame that he had to be rescued.Â
Like every fight, he thought of what he should have done after the confrontation was over. When Staqauit was choking him, he should have kicked him back in the stomach. The stomach area was always a quick disable to an opponent. Staqauit would have let him go and then he could have parkored and fought his way out with the weapons that were stationed around the dungeon.
But he hadnât done that. He had thrashed and took the assault and hadnât been able to think up anything on the sly like he knew Jay was infamous for.
With that thought, some defeated admittance slithered into his voice. Not that it was much of a defeat. It was barely a competition when Jay was naturally better and Aziz could never match no matter how hard he tried. âPeople love him, heâs strong and fast.. everyone wants him or to be like himâŚ..I wish I could be like him too.â
He hated how much it was true.
âWhy?â Lala scrunched her nose in confusion.
Aziz sighed, wishing his explanation didnât sound so pathetic, âIâm forgettable in Auradon. Iâm the third in line for the throne so Iâm not inheriting the kingdom like all the other guys in my class. And Iâm not that talkative. Believe me, in Auradon that is not a good thing if you want people to notice you. Or at least not be forgettable, and Jay can...â he trailed off. He didnât want to get into the time in the dungeon. She had been there, she knew he was weak.
âAnd how does Jay fit into this?â
âHeâs like me, I guess. Only better in everything. Better thief, better at tourney, more witty, better at flirting. I just blend in...I donât want that anymore it sucks.â
âBlending in is a good thing. It allows you to skulk and learn your enemiesâ tactics so you can ambush them.â Lala said.
âGreat. But thatâs in the wild. Iâm not willing to move to the jungle just so my introvertedness can be an asset.â
âOkay maybe the ambush thing isnât important but it is still applicable. Itâs good that youâre not as outgoing like the others. Look at those people bragging and flirting and trying to garner attention onto themselves, theyâre annoying. Itâs always them, them, flash and boasts. They would never survive in life because they are always thinking of themselves. They donât observe their surroundings, they miss the details that could help in the future. Like- like? I know-A fool who does not observe will fail. They will fail and try again and fail and try again. But a person who does take in their surroundings will learn the lesson once and remember it.â
âYou donât dominate the conversation but when you do, it is sensible and important. You donât waste words. Same with your actions. You donât talk the talk, you let your actions show how you get things done. I wouldnât trust those extroverted people with my life. Theyâre too bold and impulsive and think with their fists. I ca-People can respect you. Trust you. You are genuine, and witty because you think so much, you will be successful later on.â
âI guess so.â Aziz smudged the dirt-packed floor with his foot, watching the sight of a small mealworm that had been habitating there, crawl out, âBut it sucks. I get being successful later in life but what about now? In Auradon, no one takes a second look at me. You have to be a really sociable or talented person like Jay to get noticed. I canât do that. I try but I- And, and what about in the dungeon, my observation skills gave me nothing! If I act a little more like Jay maybe I wouldnât be the weak link needing to be rescued.â Â Aziz blurted out.
Lala didnât speak and Aziz cringed, staring at the ground. But the silence was growing so long he had to look back to gauge her reaction and saw Lala was waiting for him to look at her.Â
Then she spoke, âYou didnât escape but you did survive. That takes a special inner strength especially when your enemies wish to demoralize and destroy you. And it is useless to ponder what others would have done when they werenât been in the situation. You did what you could, and if you are so concerned about your aptitude, Iâll teach you. You have the strength, you need to practice better technique. Stop the self pity itâs a disgusting habit.â
Aziz tried to protest, but felt himself only mouthing the words as a damn nervous blush starting crawling up his neck. He still felt like he should have done better but he appreciated Lalaâs words. He knew she held herself and almost everyone else on the standard of their physical skill and made it known when she thought someone was weak. For her to claim that he was strong even after she healed him, rescued him and saw him beaten bloody and battered, it meant something.Â
And what she was about to say earlier? That little slip-up. She respected him. He hadnât thought earning her respect was something he had wanted, but as she said it.. he felt so good that he did.
âAs for the others, fuck them.â Lala interrupted, âIsnât Auradon a place  where youâre not supposed to be shallow? See beyond first impressions and get to know them? If they donât do that, fuck them. You shouldnât even be complaining that people donât notice you because it means to ones who do, actually care. Youâre less outgoing than others. Itâs not your fault that they donât try to see beyond.â
Lala was still talking but Aziz stopped listening. What she said, âItâs not your faultâ hit him like a sandstorm. The images of his attempts to try to be better. More funny. More entertaining. More talented. More outgoing. Things that people would want to talk to him like they gathered around his father or around Chad and the other royals.
Yet he was outshone by someone better. His constant overthinking working against him as he talked, praying that he didnât look like he was trying too hard as he was. Praying that he wasnât going to be forgettable to people. He failed. He wondered what was so wrong with him that made him invisible. He wondered how people like Lonnie and Jordan could insist he was so fun to be around when he couldnât make his presence known when he was in the room with the likes of Jay.
But it wasnât entirely his fault. He was born to be more of a listener than a doer. He preferred being one on one with people. He couldnât change that. But he could accept it. He could accept that he was never going to be the star of the room and that people may not give him a second glance.
If so, then fuck them. Because it was true. If they could write him off as just forgettable, then he didnât need their attention anyway.
His shoulder moved and he snapped back to realize he had zoned out in front of Lala. He felt a blush crawl up his neck, making him flush more. He hated how obviously red it was against his olive skin. âSorry I- I was listening. You really.. I realized..I mean. Youâre right. Youâre absolutely right, Lala. You donât know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.â He leaned forward to hug her but held back. Touchy-feely was not the norm on the Isle, but he felt so grateful for her words that it felt wrong just to say thanks. So he settled for leaning close and smiling. He was pretty sure it was the smile of an idiot but he did it anyway. The nice thing was Lala gave a small-closed lip smile in return and roughly booped his nose.
âI know you needed it. Anyone who is considering to act more like Jay needs to be talked off the deep end.â
Feeling a bit more generous now that he was coming around to accepting he didnât need to be as cool as Jay to be noticed, Aziz snapped back into psychologist mode, trying to see his observances of Jay through a more objective, less jealous lens.
Not that he had much time to observe Jay since he got hypnotized which was surely a traumatic betrayal on its own since it came from his fatherâs snake staff. Which spoke to how uncaring and domineering Jafar must be as a father if he felt the need to control his son.
âI donât know. I think Jay is more than the impulsive idiot you take him for. I believe it's just a facade he puts up.â Aziz mused âTo annoy people? It works.â Lala rolled her eyes.
âWhat went down between you that you hate him so much?â Aziz asked.
âI donât hate him, I dislike him. Heâs annoying. He stole my spears for himself, he thinks heâs so great he tries to fight Mabaya on his own and almost gets both of us killed because again, he took my weapons and then broke them! What idiot tries to chuck a spear out a charging elephant? It does nothing. If he had to throw the spear, he should have aimed at a vital joint or his eye at least. I canât respect such idiocy.â Lala huffed.
âI understand but he was a bit out of his element in the jungle and it is his fall-back to try to boast and impress. Usually people who do that are trying to hide something.â Aziz said. Then he thought of a saying of his mother. It was a bit of what Vks called, sentimental Auradon crap, but he felt it should be said, âSometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.â
âWhatever.â Lala yawned.
âWhat happened to not judging people? Look beyond the surface.â Aziz teased.
âThat was for you. Iâm a bad person, I donât need to follow that rule.â Lala sniffed haughtily.
It would have been so easy to take that as another little joke in their back and forth, but his observing skills struck again. She sounded haughty but her eyes were downcast, and considering what she said that she was too like her mother⌠she felt it was true.
âYouâre not exactly like your mother, you know. I donât think so at leastâ Aziz said softly in case Lala didnât want to broach the subject and could pretend to ignore him.
âI know Iâm not exactly like her. Iâm only as close to her as she allows me to be. Sheâs always one step ahead.â Lala muttered, not looking at him. âIf I was like her sheâd have me be the princess of Opar. But Iâm not good enough for that. Not like Tarzanâs children.â âI donât know Tarzanâs children that well but I donât think Queen La would find them worthy heirs. I never saw Kerchak swing from a tree or pick up a sharp object in my life. And Victoria-â
âNo. Not Tarzan and Janeâs children. Tarzan and my momâs. The ones sheâs planning to have in the future. They donât even exist and Iâm not as good as them according to her because I got one stupid scar and Iâm claustrophobic.â Lala scowled, smacking the ground in anger of her own weaknesses.
âYou seem to be handling your claustrophobia.â Aziz encouraged.Â
âAs long as I donât think about it. Thatâs why I study so hard. Itâs because it takes my mind off where I am, not because it requires my intense study. Trust me. But at nightâŚâ Lala inhaled deeply and tensed, âI hate this place. I miss the fresh air and space. Every time someone closes the door, I feel like it's going to be lock with this air that-â She inhaled deeply again.
âLetâs go to a window,â Aziz suggested motioning to leave the room. Lala took the offer eagerly and they bounded up the stairs to Lalaâs room, the leopard men obediently behind them.
Lala threw open the windows to the balcony and breathed deeply. A blissful smile enveloped her features as her body relaxed. The wind was out today, and unlike Auradon, this wasnât a refreshing light breeze. On the Isle, when the wind blew, it blew like a gust and Aziz was impressed that Lala stood straight without bending to its battering assult. But it fit her. Lala was the person who could stand strong against natural forces. Her face perfectly serene as the wind whipped her white braid about and ruffled her long sleeves.
Aziz stood next to her, keeping a hand to the side of his face as the gusts constantly pushed his bangs into his eyes and mouth and became a general nuisance. âI donât think youâre exactly like your mom. Not just because you canât live to her caliber.  Youâre not shallow considering you speak to a guy who hasnât rung any animal by his neck. Despite your wish for a kingdom, I donât think, at least Iâm guessing, you donât have a real desire to lord over others like a tyrant.âÂ
âFrom what Iâve observed, and Iâm a pretty good observer if I say so myself. Youâre reserved because you know thatâs the way to survive. But I also think it speaks to how genuine you are. You donât deal with bullshit, if you respect a person you show it, if you donât, you donât. A little blunt but honesty is better than fakery. You seem to actually like learning and challenging yourself with the Atlantean magic. You laughed at my jokes which shows you have a brilliant sense of humor... And despite what you say, you did care about your siblings. You canât live up to her mom and her imaginary children? Then fuck her. Youâre pretty formidable by yourself. Youâd be successful as a warrior or a priestess or whatever. Youâd have awesome adventures no matter what you do because youâre a badass warrior princess.``
Although she wasnât looking at him, he could tell she was listening. He could see the corner of her mouth twitching up and down, fighting a smile. So he decided to return the favor and nose boop her to get her attention.
She batted his hand away but a small laugh escaped her lips. âBadass warrior princess. Hmm you observed me very well.â
âEh little observations here and there, some is just gut instinct. Some people may think a personâs reserve is them being stuck up but I get yourâs is more than that.â Aziz coughed as a piece of his hair blew into his mouth.
âPeople may think youâre forgettable, but I understand youâre more of an observer.â Lala pursed her lips, catching her braid as it flew to hit Azizâs cheek.
Aziz rubbed his cheek, his motherâs saying popping into his head again. He shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious and nervous about repeating the quote. Which was weird because he said it about Jay just a few minutes before. But saying it, to Lala, seemed more..more meaningful somehow.
No, he was overthinking all of this again so Aziz ignored it, âSometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.â
Lala smiled at him and there was something.. a something in the air. Energy, a vibe, he wasnât sure but it made the fact that even though they were in the blustery air, he felt as if he were enclosed in a small world between the two of them. Time to change the subject then! âSo speaking of observing, I havenât really had the chance to do it around here much, but isnât it fascinating to watch the people here?â Aziz asked. People watching was his go to subject for most conversations. Not that many people had much to contribute. People watching was not a thing most people engaged in which he thought was a shame. It was the most fun ever! People  had such weird idiosyncrasies even when they did a normal thing like walking past whether it was an odd head bop or having feet pointed in first position or the like. Lala shrugged and Aziz nodded understandingly. He knew the topic wouldnât probably go anywhere but then...âWhat's people watching?â âOh itâs this thing where you just sit and watch random people. You know observe their habits, stuff that they do.â Aziz sighed. It was a lot more interesting action than in explanation. âOooh!â Lala nodded understandingly, âLike observing your prey and enemies. Iâve done that lots of times. Itâs entertaining.â Azizâs eyes widened, âYou think itâs fun too!âÂ
Lala looked at him as if he was crazy for suggesting otherwise, âYes. Itâs a useful skill and people do such weird stuff.âÂ
âSuch weird stuff!â Aziz said at the same time, and then he tried to dial down the enthusiasm in his voice when Lala made the âcalm downâ sign, snorting at his excitement. âRemember when we were at Gastonâs bar and that Hun guy was fighting Stanley? I noticed in other fights that he does this thing with his head.. ugh I canât describe it. But like heâd almost twist his...â âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
That had been three days ago and they almost talked for an hour when Kaj II growled his warning that Queen La was arriving and Aziz had to swing off the balcony and climb against the wall to the correct balcony that would lead to Jadeâs room.Â
Not that he had realized it but in hindsight, that might have been the moment he developed a crush on the warrior princess. Ever since then, he just⌠he just wanted to be around her a little more compared to the others. He wanted to hear more about her opinions or stories or anything she had to say.
And whenever she smiled at his jokes even if she rolled her eyes because it was corny, he felt like he won a tourney victory or something. And she was so..so graceful. Not cat-like graceful but beautiful, every move she makes was stunning.
Not that he allowed himself to think about it too much. There were more important things at stake like saving the world, and if he thought about how he had a crush on Lala then heâd get self-conscious and nervous and he didnât want that. Their friendship was just fine for him. He was even teaching her monkey.Â
Not that it was any of Jordanâs business.
âItâs not important.â Aziz said.
âIt better not be. You can try to deny it but I can see that âCan you feel the love tonightâ nonsense from a mile away. Why donât you just forget crushing on mermaids and.. and maybe a nice girl from Agrabah. Or a nice boy. You had such a good time with Mena, remember.âÂ
âMena was...Honestly Mena was the only guy I.. I canât. I keep comparing other men to him which isâ Can we not talk about him?â Aziz growled, partly from the memory of his sole boyfriend who had used him for the status of dating a prince and had been cheated on him the whole time, and partly because Jordan was bringing him up even though she knew it was a touchy subject.Â
âI know he didnât work out but itâs like you told me, you canât give up on the whole male population because of one cheating boyfriend. Cheating would be nothing compared to this. This crush is a mistake.â Jordan huffed.
âWhy is it a mistake exactly?â Aziz raised an eyebrow at Jordanâs judgemental attitude. Usually she was all for Aziz meeting someone and start planning their dates even though her tastes were a bit extravagant like setting off fireworks when he leaned in for a kiss. Â
âI get the appeal, really. She was a mysterious stranger swinging on a vine. But sheâs the same stranger who broke Calixâs arm! Heâs lucky that he has magic on his side and could heal the arm that she broke. If he was mortal, heâd be doomed. Thereâs no hospitals here, weâd have to cut it off.â
âThatâs not how unattended broken arms work, Jordan.â Aziz rubbed his temples at her wildly dramatic reasons why having a crush on Lala would be bad, âIt doesnât matter, Iâm not going to do anything when there are more important things at stake.â
âI know. Iâm just saying you shouldnât even pursue this when we get back to Auradon. Think about, Aziz. Really think about it. Imagine what would happen if you even got together? Sheâs the daughter of Queen La. Allah knows that if she got jealous, sheâd murder the other person and kill you for looking a for wandering eyes.â Jordan said.
âThen I guess you both have something in common.â Aziz said sarcastically, âLike when you sent your ex a box of scorpions when you found him cheating on you.â
âThatâs completely different! He deserved it! You donât deserve to feel pain. Iâm telling you itâs not good to act on love at first sight.â
âLove at first sight?â Aziz scoffed. Did she not even know him? They always joked about people who thought they fell in love at first sight.Â
Sure, for some it was true. Auradon was practically built on it but more often than not it could lead to a very difficult marriage. Thatâs why Snow White took that job as a reporter so she wouldnât be around King Florian so much.
Jordan should know him better, he may get a crush at first glance, but he wouldnât act on it unless he was sure there was more.
âIâm not in love with her. Iâm not doing anything with her.â
âYouâre hanging out with her!â Jordan cried.
âIâm also hanging out with Jade. With your logic, I could be crushing on her. Sheâs clever, sheâs daring, we have things in common, we can do parkour together. Plus sheâs the daughter of one of our familiesâ enemies. Star crossed lovers and all that. Itâs a perfect fairytale romance.â Aziz breathlessly mocked.
âJade is not⌠she wouldnât use you like Lala.â
âSheâs a Vk, who says Jade wouldnât.â Aziz pointed out.
âJadeâs like you and me.â Jordan defended lamely.
âHow? What? Because sheâs descended from Agrabahians?â Aziz cried. He knew she could be judgemental and superficial but really? This?
âNo. I mean technically yeah but no. She and Jay. She cares about him. Theyâre like us.â Jordan said meaningfully, grasping his hands and looking lovingly in his eyes in a way that made Aziz feel small and childish.
He hated it when she got like this. Acting like she was so much more worldly and knowing because she was a genie. She had a duty to protect him, the poor sheltered mortal prince who didnât know any better or understand the morally grey areas of life. He survived torture in the damn dungeon!
Which now that he thought about it, beyond the hug Jordan hadnât asked him a single thing about the incident. It seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Yeah, she cared about his safety. But for all the wrong reasons. Â
âSo? If that was true then why donât you trust Jay if his bond with Jade is so much like our bond.â Aziz asked, pointing out the hole in her little argument.
âWell um I, Jayâs Jayâs complicated and I mean I donât distrust him, itâs just after he said that thing about me giving..â
The epiphany dawned on Aziz before Jordan finished her sentence. How could he not have realized it before? It was all Jordan ever worried about.
âItâs because Jade hasnât asked you for wishes and Lala has. Thatâs it.â
âShe probably figured out that Iâd back out of my promise so sheâs trying to use you so you could convince me to give her wishes!â Jordan cried like a detective solving a case with her convoluted logic.
âAnd you think sheâs going to seduce me to do that? Do you have so little trust in me?â Aziz used the calm steely tone that he knew would annoy her most. Not only did she act like he was a sheltered, naive mortal but a weak willed one too.
âNO no I do trust you! I know you would never intentionally do that to me. But I donât want you to get hurt just because sheâs manipulating you to get to me!â Jordan screamed, stamping her foot childishly that he was not giving into her.
âHow self-absorbed can you get? Jordan, the world doesnât revolve around you and your powers. Is it such a crazy thought that she might actually fall for me?â Aziz matched his volume to hers.
âWhy wouldnât she want me? I have phenomenal cosmic power and convenience for everyone. A lamp that forces me to obey their desires. You canât offer her that. Youâre just..you.â
Aziz stared at her, the sentence hitting him like a gut punch. He couldnât believe Jordan of all people was saying this to him. She was the one who always helped him out on dates and assured him that anyone would fall in love with him after
âŚ.Maybe all that helping out wasnât just from the goodness of her heart? It was because she secretly thought he couldn't get a girl on his own. Why would he with his so few talents? He wasnât debenoir or charming enough like Jay. He wasnât going to inherit the throne like other princes. What did he have to offer that the other boys at Auradon Prep couldnât offer or even top? All he had was a genie friend whoâd make âa whole new worldâ  dates.
Moreover, it hurt. His best friend in the world also thought that he wasnât good enough on his own. She thought he needed her to survive through life and love and all those trials.
Now he was glad he told Lala how he felt ignored. Clearly his so-called âbest friend/wingwoman/sisterâ was too oblivious and selfish to comfort him. Not even that. She secretly shared everyone elseâs opinion that he was forgettable!
âMe? What does that-â Aziz snarled.
âI-I just donât want you to spend so much time with her.â Jordan seemed to sense his anger and began backtracking, âYou know I donât have a lot of people to hang out with. So many people just want me for my wishes. You-you donât want to use me. Youâre my best friend. Thatâs why I need you. After everything Iâve done for you, all Iâm asking is for you to be my friend.â Aziz heard her but didn't listen, her hurtful words still ringing in his ears. Besides that was completely unbelievable. She was afraid of losing him? That was a ridiculous idea and she knew that. If she was going to lie to his face, she could try to make it believable!Â
And what? It wasnât like he owed her for everything she had done for him. That wasnât how friendship worked! He didnât ask her to do things and join adventures. She did it herself because she was his friend.Â
Or he had thought it was because they were sibling/friends. Apparently it was because she believed he needed her.Â
âYou need me around forever to sooth your constant paranoid insecurity. I get it.â Aziz rolled his eyes sarcastically.Â
âItâs not a paranoid insecurity. Itâs a fact.â Jordan claimed.
âJordan, have you ever thought, maybe the reason people will only look at you for your wishes is because your general personality is unbearable to deal with. Thatâs why no one wants to be your friend. Thereâs nothing likable to be friends with but thank Allah, at least if they hang around long enough theyâll get wishes out of you.â Aziz snapped.
Jordan froze, clearly hurt by the sound of the crack in her voice, âDo you feel that way too?â
Aziz didnât give himself time to think. She didnât deserve any amount of comfort from him after what she just said. She didnât need to act like she knew everything about life and treat him like an incapable, forgettable mortal. That was what he was to her, a mortal. And he knew from all their talks together just how little she respected mortals. And apparently he was no exception.Â
âYes, sometimes I do.â
For a brief eerie moment, the wind was sucked out of the room and silence reigned. Oppressive, weighty silence that he could literally feel pressing against his chest and head and the rest of his body. He began to wonder if he should try to escape, that Jordan was about to do something theyâd both regret.
âGET OUT!!â Jordan screamed.
âI canât get out. You control your lamp.â Aziz hissed through his teeth to keep from yelling again.Â
âFuck you.â The sight of Jordan giving him the finger was his last vision before pink smoke and sand fogged up his view and he rudely fell to the floor.
He glared at the lamp, imagining its arrogant, selfish, all knowing, cosmic occupant pacing the floor, creating a mini sand storm in her anger. Fine.
âFuck you too.â
#jordan#aziz#jay#lala#my fanfic#my fanfiction#winnerâs curse#calix#ocs#disney descendants#chapter nineteen
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The Great Divide - Chapter 13
Riley had returned to her barracks, beaten, exhausted and filthy, greeted by Lidia who was on her way out the door to head to her own miserable job.
Sheâd gasped at the sight of Riley and when sheâd asked what theyâd done to her, she responded by bursting into tears that she simply couldnât contain anymore.
The stress, both physical and mental, hovered over her ruthlessly as she slowly made her way back to her cot, limping against the destroyed skin on her feet but ignoring the torn flesh on her shin that stood out drastically against the dull aching she felt over every single inch of her body. Sheâd been told she could go back to her cot and rest until the following morning, whenâ The Reapingâ required all of the slaves to gather in the town square. But until then, she would crawl under the stiff sheet and cradle herself for warmth and affection and comfort, and cry about everything that had happened to her over the course of the last week. How much she missed Daryl, mostly. The rest of her friends and family weighed heavily on her mind and heart. And the events of that day held her tightly as well in the form of hot, itchy skin and throbbing wounds and horrible memories she tried to forget.
Lidia hadnât pried anymore as she tended to Rileyâs wounds, washing the reddened skin on her leg gently with a worn cloth and dirty drinking water, and even cleaning her feet before wrapping them both in thick adhesive ace bandages, shielding them from anymore harm, at least for a little while. And Riley had lay still as she scrubbed the warm water against her flushed skin, removing the layer of dirt and smog that had clung to her and made her feel more than disgusting and filthy. The sensation had her slowly succumbing to the lingering exhaustion, her eyelids heavy as lead and fluttering shut peacefully.
âYouâre strong, Riley.â
She barely heard the words, eyes closed in a half slumber happily being taken over by unconsciousness. âI believe in you, honey, and... Iâm so very, very sorry.â
Riley was far too tired to question what she was apologizing for.
When she awoke next it was to bells ringing loudly, the high pitched vibrations feeling close enough to be inside her head. She thought sheâd dreamt them, picturing the bronze bell at the top of her school that rung out every hour and a half between periods and finally once more at the end of the day, signaling her time to leave. But the visions didnât feel real and Riley knew she was only dreaming -- sheâd gotten very accustomed to the foggy world between her unconscious and reality.
So she pried her eyes open, lids stuck together from a lack of sleep. The few hours sheâd been able to doze off let her bones rest so then her entire body ached with every minuscule movement, from cracking her toes to forcing herself upright and trying to stretch with a pained whimper.
The others around her were already bustling, throwing their clothing on and heading out the door rapidly and Riley assumed that she should probably follow them.
Her feet were still bandaged, thanks to Lidia, and she silently shared her gratitude again for the help, even though the older lady was nowhere in sight.
It was never easy to tell what time of day it was at The Divide on account of the perpetual layer of smog and smoke that lingered and turned the atmosphere far too dark to tell where the sun was shining. Following the line of workers in front of her she wrapped her arms around herself for at least some sense of security, feeling exceptionally vulnerable and unsafe out in the crowd of hectic people running all around her. Women, children, and eventually as she wandered deeper into town, the men trickled in. People were everywhere, whispers and hushes all around her mixed with averted gazes and wide, scared eyes.
The crowd stopped around an old fountain, the concrete bone dry and splotches of it stained a dark red from either running rust or blood or a combination of both. Cracks ran up the side and she found her way over to one solid spot, leaning against it to get off of her aching feet.
âWell, well, well, itâs already that time again!â
A voice came through a megaphone or speakers somewhere and Riley craned her neck to see over the sea of heads in front of her. She could hardly make out a man up on the balcony of what looked like an old hotel, almost like he was a pope addressing his fucking disciples. It disgusted her at first, but she quickly curbed her attitude to match the fear and silence around her as every single worker in her sight dropped down to one knee and bowed to him.
It had to be âAsherâ; the feared dictator that everyone had whispered about.
Trying to remain invisible she joined the crowd in their bows, wincing as her bones cracked and her injured knee stung against the asphalt beneath her.
âProductivity has been at an all time high. And I am...  pleased with the way things are going right now. Very pleased, indeed, to say the leastâ
His words were drawn out and accentuated and she could almost guarantee that he was some sort of actor or historical reinactor before the world turned, his dramatic complex irritating her instantly. But she supposed that was how he got to the top in the first place -- a smooth talking, charismatic, deceiving asshole that stepped on every single person he came across until he was in control. Mussolini, Adolf Hitler -- fuck, that all seemed like it was millenniums ago.
She wondered if they would be reading about Asher in a history book a hundred years from that moment.
âMorale needs a little improvement,â he chuckled dryly. âBut, weâre working on that. And so brings us to today -- the day of our twenty-forth Reaping.â
Thatâs right -- Riley was told that they were due for a âReapingâ at any day. One of the workers would be chosen to fight one of Asherâs toughest soldiers for a chance at leaving behind the shitty worker life and becoming a soldier themself. It reminded her of The Hunger Games, her favorite series when she was a freshman in high school. Sheâd always been able to see the world turning into a cruel, sick game just like that story, but never in her lifetime. It had her feeling like she was living a nightmare, watching life go by while she stood idly by unable to do anything about it.
âEach month, one brave worker chosen by their peers will go into the Pit with one of The Divideâs strongest fighters, battling each other in a unarmed brawl, one-on-one, until one of them goes down or forfeits, to determine the stronger of the two, and bring forth our bravest and toughest fighters to The Divide Army, and prepare generations to come to be valuable soldiers as we rebuild society.â
Earlier sheâd been told that it was a volunteer that went up. Did that mean they would remain there until somebody eventually offered themselves up? Or did the slaves really choose them? She couldnât help but feel as though that was a lie made up as a scare tactic, but she had no idea.
âThe last six that went up against Raul failed miserably,â he continued. Well, at least there were winners in the relatively recent past, so it couldnât be that bad. Right? âHopefully this monthâs fighter wonât disappoint. Lidia, the stage, please.â
Rileyâs heart dropped and her head snapped up -- Lidia? Christ, she wasnât the one having to fight, was she? If she was, Riley would have to volunteer in her spot -- she would literally have to. She simply could not let that woman subject herself to all of that, not at her age and condition, and by the looks of Raul who stood boldly beside Asher... fuck, he was a big dude.
Lidia stepped quietly up to the microphone, clearing her throat, but holding her head up high as if sheâd done this a hundred times before. Was she announcing the lucky worker who got chosen? It was cruel to make her call them; the workers all thought so highly of her.
âOn behalf of The Divide workers, for the twenty fourth Reaping,â she was reading from a little note card and though she stood strong, her voice was wavering just enough for Riley to tell she was at least a little bit nervous. âWe offer Riley Herrington to fight Sir Asherâs soldier.â
Wait. She didnât understand at first. Offer? Wasn't it supposed to be a volunteer basis? Riley didnât remember agreeing to anything. How did she get picked out of everybody? It had to be rigged. There was no other explanation.
Unless...
âOh, dear Lidia, always offering us the newbies,â she could hear the smile in Asherâs voice. âMiss Herrington? Come forth, please!â
But her feet were rooted to the ground, cinder blocks tied to her legs. She didnât even get a chance to stand herself upright before hands came from all around to pull her up and before she knew it she was being dragged before she could even register what was going on.
The crowd of workers that surrounded her seemed oddly comfortable making eye contact with her then, all of them watching her as she was pulled by two Slavemasters up front, some looking sorry for her, others looking relaxed and calm, and relieved that they werenât in her shoes -- shit, she didnât even have any fucking shoes on.
âW...What?â She finally stammered something out, her brain lagging slowly behind reality as it slowly caught up with the situation at hand. âWait...â
...always offering us the newbies...
No... There was no fucking way.
But Asher, seemingly reading her mind, continued his spiel. âThank you, Lidia! Hopefully your choice will not disappoint this time...â
Riley knew then what had happened. It was in the back of her mind, deep down, and the realization was heavy, settling like a rock in her gut. Lidia had offered her up. The one woman that shown her any hint of kindness and warmth from the moment sheâd gotten there days ago, had offered her up to fight to the death against a man that was easily twice her size and strength and she hardly seemed bothered that she had to do so.
âYou fucking bitch!â Riley finally snapped, shooting daggers at Lidia who stared blankly at her as she was drug by. âYou miserable fucking cunt -- you...â
âOoh, this one is feisty!â Asherâs voice interrupted her tantrum and Riley fought the urge to start screaming at him, too, âI have a good feeling about this one!â
No wonder Lidia was so unfazed by anything. No wonder she coped with the misery The Divide held for her so well. There was some sort of agreement, some secret plan that Riley had clearly not been in on. And now she was fucked. Sheâd tried so fucking hard -- so hard! Sheâd worked so hard the day before, sheâd confided in Lidia and heeded her advice and her warnings -- were those even legitimate? Or had it been part of her elaborate plan all along?
Riley was livid, tears of frustration burning in her eyes as she was dragged through the double doors of the old hotel, away from the crowd and away from Lidia. She didnât even know what exactly it was she was shouting at her, but none of the curses or screams seemed to quell the anger and betrayal she was feeling.
Once again, she had to pay the price for trusting so fucking easily.
Riley was still screaming at Lidia when theyâd shut the doors behind her, closing off the outside world and locking her into what she was certain was not going to be good.
âQuit yer bitchinâ!â The guy that held onto her twisted his grip on her arm, shutting almost her up while she fell backward into him just to prevent him from snapping her arm in half. âFuckâs sake, lady! Jeez...â
Now that Riley had accepted her fate, she decided that there was nothing left that was preventing her from at least trying to escape, right?
She smashed her head backwards into his with another yell; the sound of crunching bone and cartilage churned her stomach, but she still managed successfully broke herself free from his grasp.
After she shook him off she got maybe four or five steps before there were two other guards on her before she could even blink and they harshly tackled her down to the ground.
She hit the ground hard, grunting as it knocked the wind out of her, and struggled against the two men that wrestled with her, her arms flailing and legs trashing as she tried to escape. Her tired muscles screamed underneath the two men and they quickly overpowered her, and she known it was pointless; sheâd lasted just a few seconds before they had her face down with strong hands holding her feet and her head, crushing her face into the dirty old carpet. Then they handcuffed her, like she was being detained.
She was so mad, so furious, felt so betrayed and so wronged. So hurt.
âQuit your fucking squirming!â The authoritative, booming voice had her stilled in half of a second, suddenly more terrified of the people around her than sheâd been before. It was not a doped-up raider like the others out there were. She wasnât sure what exactly it was, but she knew that she didnât want to fuck with him. And apparently, she needed to learn to start trusting her gut better.
âPick her up.â
She was pulled roughly to her feet and faced a broad man, tall and strong, standing before her. Wearing the standard armor sheâd seen of most of the Slavemasters but decorated with what she assumed were some sort of military-esque ribbons and medals he oozed confidence â too much of if, she thought immediately though it looked to be well deserved. He reminded her of a drill sergeant or an army general by the way he carried himself. He was definitely in charge... and pretty ruggedly handsome, she had to admit.
Though his sculpted jaw line and dark olive skin did little to alleviate the fear she had brewing inside of her at that moment, having regretted her precious decisions to lash out.
He had a bronze name plate on his chest: ASHER.
He continued to stare at her in a painful silence, eyeing her up and down in consideration as if he was purchasing a vehicle. Or better yet, cattle, as she so often felt herself being treated as.
âTonight will be very interesting,â he finally said, not taking his dark hazel eyes off of her body. She felt incredibly vulnerable underneath his gaze, naked almost, and when he smiled, she quickly knew how heâd worked his way to the top. The type of sinister, maniacal person that he was, it was written all over his character.
She lip quirked up into a snarl, like a cornered feral dog, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end with a chill that went down her spine.
He merely chuckled at her demeanor. âIf I were you, I would save that energy for this evening. Youâre going to need it.â
#The Walking Dead#twd#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl x ofc#daryl x oc#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead drabble#the walking dead daryl#norman reedus#norman reedus fanfiction#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon drabble#fallout#fallout 3#the pitt
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The 72 Rules of Cat Grant || Supercat (8/?)
Chapter Title: DivingÂ
Pairing: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant
Rating: M
Chapter Description:
âI like this side of you.â Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.
âOf course you do. Because youâre so certain that itâs all your fault.â The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass.
Note: Finally mostly up-to-date with all this jazz.Â
Chapter 1: AO3 Link | FF.Net Link | Tumblr
Chapter 2: A03 Link | FF.net Link | Tumblr
Chapter 3: AO3 Link | FF.Net | Tumblr
Chapter 4: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr
Chapter 5: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr
Chapter 6: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr
Chapter 7: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr
Chapter 8: AO3 | FF.Net | Below:
Itâs day five (and a half) by the time Kara feels her whole life flash before her eyes. Fortunately, the majority of it (where she had a fitful sleep for twenty-four years or so, waking up every few minutes or hours or years to gasp until the life support systems would guide her back into oblivion) is lost in favor of remembering the way Alex had looked when she took her flying the first time, mixed with a murky memory of how Catherineâs smile can catch sunlight. Kara doesnât have much time to think, at all, and those two images seem to be the best her mind can come up with when her body is thrown through a concrete barrier, fingers scratching at cement to catch her before she can plummet into the murky waters below.
This is officially not her most graceful fight.
The overwhelming taste of green and copper is nauseating-- this is what nausea feels like--and when Kara spits, red spews like paint splatter against the dirty canvas of a life-stained bridge, stumbling to shaky knees when unfocused blue eyes spot the sight of her cousin towering over heaving shoulders of the man in front of her.
This isnât the first time theyâve met. Itâs the fourth, in fact.
Itâs the same man, Kara realizes with a sinking dread, that had tried to kill Lena Luthor a few hours before--who had nearly killed her sister a few moments later --and the rage is displayed by another mouthful of something else when he rushes forward, fingers curling around a swallowing neck like an iron vice as she spits what blood she has into his face in defiance.
He merely wipes it away with a rumbling chuckle, the coldness of it seeping far deeper than the Kryptonite does. Which is saying something, because the green is slowly slithering up her spine like a venomous snake and breath is becoming ragged against a swelling tongue.
Powerless.
Kal-El rushes to stop him, but the Kryptonite seems to seep into his bones when Metallo (thatâs apparently his name, he likes to throw it around like a trademark) blasts him in the chest, her cousinâs body skittering across the bridge like a lifeless ragdoll and Supergirl struggles against hands made of steel she canât bend as the glow of green overtakes her, body raising limply into the air as her bending throat creaks like a rusty metal door underneath the weight of his hand.
Definitely not her most graceful fight.
Thereâs countless flashes from the few spattered civilians brave enough to remain on the bridge and when one throws something at Metallo's head to distract him, Kara lets out a rasping--
â Donât --â
--even as the action causes a deathgrip to ease, just a little, because the last thing she wants is for them to die defending her.
Kara really doesnât want anyone to die, actually. Herself and Kal-El included. Because this shouldnât be it--it shouldnât be today--not the day when sheâd left Winn asleep on his couch to go stop a robbery. Not the day she hasnât seen James at all. She hasnât written Lois. She hasnât laid out her letters. Sheâd left a cup of coffee on Catâs desk with no explanation, this morning and hadn't been the person to leave her lover's third, and had left her relationship with Alex in tatters over a very ill-executed suggestion of Metropolis in her apartment, and they havenât made it to lunch with Eliza , yet, who is probably making the best sandwiches on any coast, and Kal-El--
Kal-El is stumbling towards them, as powerless as she is from the Kryptonite, and the last daughter of the House of El lets out a quiet, frustrated curse of an apology in Kryptonian, before shoving her hand as hard as she can into the green, glowing pit where a heart should be in this manâs chest with a groan of agony to draw his attention towards her.
Before doing whatâs probably the stupidest thing she can think of, but the best option for getting him off this bridge and away from Kal-El--away from the people who are now rushing to help her--
A gasp as fingers claw, memories of a green ring and determined eyes and her sister--her sister--
Kara throws all of her body weight just like her sister had taught her, hand curling in this green abyss (this must feel like what shoving a humanâs entire arm into a spreading, growing lava would be) feeling the tendrils of it spreading from her wrist to her arm to her neck. She inhales and exhales and suddenly her breath is green and her eyes are green and her world, weak and small and powerless, is green--
Her leg sweeps underneath his thigh and her nails dig in and pull him closer, not further away--
And she throws them both off the edge of the bridge with a pained gasp, the only thing she can manage, the manâs grunt of surprise in her ear overtaken by a string of very british-sounding curses.
Because only one of them can fly.
Itâs halfway through their descent, however, that Kara realizes neither one of them can fly and swallows, eyes closing as she feels the wind rush through her hair and the sound of screams in her ears, and has just enough time to fish out the bracelet in her breast, bringing it up to her lips with a faint apology, holding it with what strength she still has.
Today should not be the day for this.
She didnât say goodbye.
--
The sun is high and bright and beautiful and Karaâs shoulders almost lazily sag underneath the weight of it as she leans against Catherineâs desk, a takeout box settled on wood and a coffee settled very, very close to her chest. A few moments after depositing them, she decides to plop knowingly--easily--into the chair, instead, and it's a testament to how distracted the CEO must be because there isn't even a half-hearted chide dancing along the office walls, dripping with forced insult and barely-concealed amusement.
âDoesnât it ever grow tiring, Kara?â Cat quietly asks, eyes settled on a clock and Kara has the most ridiculous urge to skim her loverâs fingers along the edge of gold around her wrist, instead. âKnowing Iâll be here at exactly the same time, every morning. Putting out the same fires with different names. Arguing over semantics. Doesnât a young girl like you find it tedious dealing with the boring, repeatable minutiae of life?â
âI never get tired of seeing you at 7:05 on the dot, Cat. I actually love minutiae.â Kara shakes her head, coming forward with curled fingers at her lap to keep from running them along the lines of a brow that shouldnât crinkle quite so deeply. Trying to follow the look in her eyes feels like chasing the tail end of a comet through the stars, something sheâll never be quick enough to wrap her fingers around, and when Cat lets a quiet sigh between the gap of her teeth, she feels succinctly like sheâs said the wrong thing. âBut IâŚâ
âOf course you donât, Kara. You havenât been stuck in an endless Groundhog Day cycle of trying to turn around incompetence, doing the same thing for two decades.â Cat cuts her off, focusing back down on the paper underneath her and a small laugh bubbles up, unbidden, on Karaâs lips, trying to cover it with her hand. It rumbles between them and a singular eyebrow arches over the silver frame of glasses in unimpressed question. âI wasnât aware my problems amused you. I suppose thatâs what I get for paying Lucy van Pelt the 5 cents. Hell, youâve barely even been alive for two decades, youâre like a perky little goldfish floating around, seeing everything for the first time and then forgetting five seconds later.â
Seeing the tension on Catâs face, Kara tries to take the insult in stride because the moment sheâd walked into a building she currently (for a few more hours) isnât employed at, she could feel the heat off of Catâs shoulders. And watch the after-effects of it, given the scurrying employees that told her to run while she could the moment she stepped on the 40th floor.
âOkay, forgetting the fact that you just called me a goldfish, Iâm only laughing because IâŚâ Eyes flick behind them and she scoots a chair closer to the desk, uninvited, and ignores the sigh she can practically feel bubbling up on familiar shoulders. âIt was the word choice, Cat. I literally spent two decades in space. And I mean literally. Twenty-four years of floating around. Doing the same thing.â
Itâs a rare treat to see surprise barely widen those eyes and Kara shakes her head.
â...thatâs new information.â Catâs careful with her word choice and Kara still sees that journalist in the corner of her eyes--squinting and quiet--even as she sees the lover in her clearer and clearer each day, in the way her finger so carefully squeezes the edge of her pen.
âItâs boring information.â The last thing she needs in this week is to see mockups on Jamesâ desk referencing her twenty-four year casting as Sleeping (not) Beauty. Sheâs trying her best to keep Supergirl out of the news this week. Sheâs been in it enough, with Metallo. âI wasnât kidding about the floating. But either way, Iâm sorry, I didnât mean to be rude.â Cat hums, dipping back in her chair, eyes ever assessing, and Kara leans forward to chase that comet, wrists resting on a desk, âThereâs a quote I always think of when I think of you, Catherine--â
âYou do realize a person who relies on quotes so often usually does so because they donât have original thoughts?â
Karaâs eyes barely slit, finger raising, âOkay, thatâs the second time. Iâm letting you slide because I know youâre obviously stressed and itâs rare for you to talk to me about anything so youâre vulnerable and...and grumpy and I do not want to accidentally get Eve fired so Iâm keeping my mouth shut,â She straightens her blouse a little, shoulders tightening as her finger wags, voice even and pointed because sometimes Catherine needs a bit of a push back, âBut itâs technically not my job to get you coffee, anymore, and I swear I wonât do it if you keep this up, Ms. Grant. Because this one? This coffeeâs mine, and I wonât share.â
Okay, itâs not her best threat.
âOh, you wonât get me coffee ,â Cat drawls, calling her on it, âMy world is ending. Itâs almost like I donât have a thousand nameless employees all perfectly capable of doing menial--â
â Cat .â Karaâs jaw clenches and her voice sounds every bit as strong as the House of El and, amazingly, she watches fingers pinch at the bridge of a nose before they slowly slide off glasses, a hint of remorse settling in a familiar gaze even if her tone is intentionally--it must be intentionally--bored.
âIâm sorry , whatever.â But dark eyes flick towards the balcony and a small sigh lowers shoulders, quieter--barely a whisper, âIâm sorry.â
Kara takes that as her cue to slowly stand, shutting the office door and lowering the blinds--itâs not an uncommon occurrence mid-day for Cat to need a moment, another migraine tucking at the back of her throat--and a softness tips up lips when she sees a familiar hand splayed over the desk like Cat hasnât expected her to turn around, at all. At the sight of a frown and a down-turned chin, Kara rushes to assure against such a nonsensical fear, voice the same humming volume of the background news coverage she clicks off (an earlier fight between the superheroes and Metallo) when she promises: âI wasnât leaving, Cat.â
Catherine lets out a slow, slow breath, fingers rubbing at her temples, and Kara leans against a desk--lowers hands with a teasing, knowing bat to an older pair--and lovingly does it for her, hands smoothing against skin underneath the tight line of perfectly-styled hair that falls between them.
âIf you scared me off with a couple of mood swings, I wouldnât have made it past my first hour of working here. Definitely not the morning after we were together the second time.â Thereâs a faint, almost fond chuckle at the memory of it, âOr maybe I just forget,â Itâs sing-song--beaming, âBecause Iâm a goldfish.â
Cat sags into her hands, a hint of a warm laugh breaking against her wrists, and lips brush over a tilted forehead in a soft gesture--a gentle forgiveness and quiet hello--a hint of gratitude, even, for being able to be right here for her. Itâs the equivalent, Kara knows, of not going onto that balcony alone, and she wonât forsake it.
âI should have stuck with golden retriever.â Fingers curl around Karaâs wrist, nose turning into a palm, and when carefully-blackened eyelashes flutter, Kara can see an ocean of open green in Catherineâs eyes.
âGoldfish is fine. I think I like it. Mainly because, normally when people call me a dog, theyâre using another word for it and theyâre usually very loud.â A sage nod, â Very angry. And itâs usually? When Iâm helping put them in handcuffs.â Her nose wrinkles and Cat laughs and just like that, the day is a little brighter.
âWell the handcuffs could be arranged.â Thatâs a decidedly lower drawl and Kara flushes from it--crosses her leg on the edge of the desk--bites the edge of her lip underneath the faintest hint of a blush as she leans forward, a breath above Catâs knowing eyes.
âWell, if you like being tied up, I have a cape that doesnât fray.â Itâs out of her mouth before she realizes sheâs even said it and her cheeks turn the same shade as said cape at the image, clearing her throat a little, unused to being so brazen underneath the warmth of the sun but not shying away from it, fingers lowering from temples to skim along a cheek, a moment later hopping up and dutifully retrieving two pills and a glass of water before resuming her perch, those eyes heating skin far better than the sun ever has as she does.
âI like this side of you.â Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.
âOf course you do. Because youâre so certain that itâs all your fault.â The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass, âIf you havenât the strength to impose your own terms upon life. You must accept the terms it offers you.â
âThatâs the quote?â A thoughtful hum, but Cat doesnât pull away, taking another drag of water as elegantly as a socialite might a glass a wine. âThat sounds...familiar.â
âT.S. Eliot,â Kara supplies, â The Confidential Clerk .â
âOf course, everything you could have possibly quoted by T.S. Eliot and some obscure play marks the top of the list.â The glass sets down on the edge of a desk, a reflection of Catâs quirking lips caught along the edge of it like how stars catch in the glass of her bedroom window, at night.
â Iâm not the one that likes to drop Superfluous Man into the middle of a conversation.â Kara challenges and Cat leans fully back in her chair, fingers idly twining in a familiar pair, so casual and thoughtless that it makes a young smile soften.
âOh, I really like this side of you.â A nail skims along the inside of Karaâs index finger and she laughs, raising it up to smiling lips.
âMy point,â Kara tries because sheâs hardly as motivational as the woman sheâs attempting to motivate, âIs that youâre a strong woman, Cat, and in anything Iâve ever seen you do--anything youâve ever done? Youâre the one making the terms. You didnât like that journalism was male-dominated--had no place for women, at all--so you one-upped the scene. You created every form of media sensation possible with, yes, a whole lot of work, you never stop telling any of us about the work, but you did it. Journalism, news, TV, radio. Iâm sure people told you you couldnât be a single mother and a CEO and CatCo is better than ever. And Carter is the smartest, most talented, brilliant kid Iâve ever met.â
Cat hums, a hint of pride flashing over a wistful smile at mention of her son, âThatâs certainly true.â
âEven in the hard things, when you gave up your son,â Kara gently reminds, âSociety says you canât have it both ways, and youâre making things with Adam work--and before you blame me for any of that,â Kara raises her free hand, âThis relationship with him? Itâs all you. Itâs on both of your terms, not what anyone else thinks of it.â
A slow, almost shaking breath straightens shoulders, âAlso insightful, in a very odd way.â
A beat, "This isn't about the dinner with Adam, right?"Â
Thankfully, Cat smiles, "No." So Kara continues, thankful and glad (and thinking that she should really go check that Facebook message).
âYou paved the way, Cat. For women. You paved the way for all of us to be taken seriously without having to dress like men , either. Which, you know, is nice. Please no comments about my wardrobe.â That's a hasty addition, flushing and barreling on before Cat can get a word in edge-wise, âYouâre a mother and successful. You have a portfolio that your accountant says is so well-rounded you could have your own gravitational field.â Kara shakes her head, pressing, âEven our relationship, Cat,â Itâs gentler, voice dipping the same moment Catâs eyelashes do, âWeâre against all odds here, but instead of giving up, you created the terms. We both did. Weâre making it work so far, arenât we?â
âItâs been a few days , Kara.â Kara can hear it. She can hear Catherineâs breath catch against the edge of teeth--can feel her pulse barely quicken--but the almost shy smile that tucks up the edges of curving lips, amused and fond, is the most beautiful thing sheâs ever seen.
âItâs been five months, Catherine. Almost six.â Itâs an argument sheâll never give up and the fact that Cat doesnât even try is more than telling, âAnd weâve survived. Weâre forging new relationship territory, remember? Youâre...youâre a woman who changes the world without changing herself to fit it. Iâm in awe of it, sometimes, Cat. Itâs hard not to be. But itâs just who you are. So why...why would this be any different? Youâre talking about CatCo, right? About being unhappy here?â
A grousing hum is all the answer Kara needs, because this is a subject they've broached only in the darkest mist of night.
âBecause itâs my entire company, Kara. ItâsâŚâ Cat sucks in a breath, frustration quickly overwhelming any traces of her smile, âIâve spent so long building this empire. This image. My family and--â
âAnd the things you love, that you throw your whole heart into, aren't as disposable as you want to think.â Kara boldly notes, watching the way Cat's fingers barely flex and leaning closer before she can pull away, voice quiet, because she doesnât think this is about them, she knows itâs about Cat. Catâs happiness. And to Kara, that's more important than them. âI don't know what you're thinking of, Cat. I just know... you're not happy with the way things are here, anymore. I get it. And I know you could never leave CatCo or anything,â She laughs at the ridiculous thought and looks curiously at the profile of a woman who suddenly seems content to look through the windows to a balcony overlooking her city--content to look anywhere but Kara. âI know we talk a lot about duty and...that people depend on us.â Kara doesnât like the way Cat seems to be caught outside, reaching forward to gently tuck up a chin--to bring a gaze up to meet her own away from the city theyâve sworn to protect. âBut there's so many ways to help the world, aren't there? And if the way CatCo is doing it isn't what you want anymore...then I don't think anyone on this planet--on any planet, and I've been to a lot of them--is more capable of changing the terms of the world to fit how she thinks the world should be. If youâre not happy, youâll change it.â
âYou...really mean that, don't you? You really think it could just be that easy. Just change the world.â Cat scoffs a little, but there's something so hopeful in her eyes, Kara's words a near tipping point in a game of dominoes. Kara doesn't know what she's done, and likely never will. âYouâre so young.â
âMaybe.â Kara concedes, âOn this subject youâre definitely the mentor.â Her smile turns sheepish, âOkay, on most subjects youâre my mentor. In fact, Iâve spent a long time studying you, Cat--I'm still adamant that that was part of my job description--so you should be able to take my word for why I believe itâs possible. Itâs because youâve already done it. Your whole life. If you're not happy, and I think you deserve to be happy--you deserve...so much. To be happy,â Itâs cold when she drops fingers from a chin, offering a supportive smile, instead, âThen you'll find a way. And if there's anything I can do at all, to helpâŚâ
A hand waves towards herself--hopeful and eager and honest--not understanding the hint of conflict settling so deeply, however brief, on Cat's features.
Itâs only a moment--a flicker of vulnerability--but sheâll never forget it, the faint flicker of something dark casting shadows over the bright light of Catherineâs lips. It makes Kara stumble a little over the words, enamored by it:
âYou should focus on it. The being happy part, remember?â
Kara thinks it must be the weight of figuring out what to do with CatCo--even feels a naive, righteous sense of warmth in her chest from having helped in even the smallest ways--and she'll never quite understand the look in Cat's eyes.
Because thatâs the thing with those small, hidden moments before everything changes, itâs impossible to recognize them as lasts until theyâre gone. Kara has pockets full of moments just like this one stuffed in a hidden compartment by her heart--her motherâs fingers skimming along the edge of a necklace as she explains love; her fatherâs eyes brightening as he taps knuckles along a sculpture; Astraâs lips in a dream brushing over her forehead; and this, this moment of Catâs eyes haunted and conflicted, holding onto something like a planet thatâs turning green from the inside out, determined to take the galaxy with it.
Kara towers over Catherine and watches green eyes catch in the sun, the memory burnt on the back of eyelids with a unforgiving sting of a fountain pen. Thereâs a breath that tumbles from Catherineâs parted lips that means something in its indefinite silence--that hints towards a lifetime of possibilities unsaid--and Catherine almost says something--maybe almost says everything --and this small, simple little exchange is what will play on repeat for months.
Kara Danvers will play it over and over and over again like nails desperately scratching at a broken record. She'll replay the way Cat's hair falls in front of her eyes as her nose dips. The way that her eyes almost shine above those shadows of her cheeks. The way her breath rattles and quakes. The way those fingers curl nails in anxiety and promise.
The way Catherine's lips part and she...says nothing, at all.
What did you want to say?
Kara will beg her to say it. Sheâll never scream--never fall to her knees in rage and loss--sheâll never argue or even actually ask anyone but a figment of a ghost of someone she swore not to love--sheâll beg an empty corner of her bed thatâs no longer cold, and thatâs worse, somehow.
But right now, happy and light and carefree, Kara doesn't notice, instead drumming her fingers on the edge of a desk with a light shrug, too busy trying to pull Cat out of her own head to dive into it, instead. Because thatâs her job, these days, she feels, even when she doesnât exactly have one--to keep Catherine from collapsing in on herself like a singularity with hope and love, alone.
âI was only kidding about not getting you coffee.â Kara smiles and Cat's eyelashes flutter as she lets out that almost quivering breath, nails curling into her desk. It must be nerves or exhaustion but Kara is determined to help cure either, promising, âLet me go grab it for you. Before you can tell me it's not my job, I want to.â A genuine smile, âThe little things. I wonât be able to come back here today, anyways, so Iâd...like to.â
A foot turns on a heel, intent on walking away and she makes it to the door, fingers curling around warm metal but knowing better to raise the blinds until Cat is ready. Something else she'll have to inform Eve and she's so focused on mentally running through the list in her desk--distracted by the thought of making sure that Ms. Grant has the best replacement possible (did she miss telling Eve anything, while she's here?)--that she almost misses the way Cat's voice quakes when she barely whispers her name.
âKara?â
Another turn on her heel with a soft hum of question, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of a nose. The sun has settled in Golden hair and showcases the shadows underneath eyes and for one of the few times Kara will ever see it, Catherine Grant visibly hesitates.
Her mouth stills--words halt--and her lips press a thin line. The smile that follows is forced but genuine, something deep cemented in resolution in the depth of her lover's eyes as she jokes:
âMy hero.â Thereâs a quiver at the edge of her lips--a shine to that endless, painting of eyes before Catâs looking back down. Back to work. âScalding hot, please.â
But there sounds like there's truth in it--like Cat believes she's a hero through and through--and it makes Kara beam, turning around to get that third latte of the day.
âAnything for you, Ms. Grant.â
Her phone dings at Noonanâs ten minutes later, a freeze-frame of stolen pictures and smiling eyes there to greet smiling eyes.
Thank you.
Teeth tuck at lips and when her phone buzzes again, blue soften and for a second the latte sheâs grabbed might actually feel warm against her open hand.
âBoyfriend?â Eveâs tired voice--Kara sympathizes because boy does she still remember her first day, even if this is technically Eve's second--calls around her shoulder, light and kind and knowing and she quickly tucks away her phone, shrugging a shoulder.
âJust a nice text for a nice day.â She offers, instead, eyes flicking down to the mug before raising it up, âThink youâre ready to deliver this one on your own?â
Eve looks terrified.
âOh, come on, I promise, it wonât be that bad. Youâve done it twice and she hasnât killed you, right?â
Kara takes another look at her phone, wise enough to hide her smile, this time.
Iâm sorry.
A quick reply hidden by her hip--
Iâm sticking by the goldfish. Itâs forgotten. Really. Weâre more than ok Cat. Eveâs bringing you your caffeine fix so please be nice.
Adding for good measure--
Please be nice *Ms. Grant*. Typo?
Even better measure:
Ms. Grant, who has the right to fire anyone she wants but should be nice anyways. ;) Gosh, look at those typos.
She can hear Catâs indulgent, annoyed sigh forty floors down. The blinds are back up and Kara smiles over Eveâs shoulder the entire time when Cat shoots her a knowing look but wordlessly takes the latte and thatâs enough of a victory for Kara. It should be a simple moment, lost and forgotten, moving about her day with no clue--no idea.
âYou donât work here, anymore, Kiera.â Cat calls to her with a glance at a watch, âSeven hours.â
âYes, Ms. Grant. Consider me not here.â
âLike anyone could shield their eyes, you're like a walking Forever 21 ad.â But Catherineâs smiling now with a flick of a dismissive hand, Eve looking after her like sheâs awaiting a nuclear bombing.
Karaâs decidedly not a goldfish. She doesnât forget.
She sighs in a big, white, empty office, fingers running along stuffed-away pictures, sagging onto a table as she drums fingers along her desk and frowns.
Idly, she plans to get a picture made of the one of Cat on her phone--plans to gently tuck it in a safe place right next to Jâonn--and leaves before she can think anymore about a ticking clock, sipping on her own coffee, not bothering to heat it.
Lenaâs name lights up the screen of her phone and Kara shoots up into the sky a few minutes later, unable to shake the look on Catâs face, leaning over a desk, a thousand words left unsaid, and Kara isnât sure why.
It's the beginning of an end--such simple things usually are--and anytime Kara ever thinks back on it, she'll cry.
--
The last thing she sees is Kal-El, stumbling and just as powerless as her, diving after her over the edge of the bridge, whatever words croaking out of his lips lost to the sound of the wind.
khap zhalish
The last thing she hears is the sound of Metallo hitting the water and going silent.
--
âAlex, Iâm not saying Iâm going to Metropolis, Iâm just--â
âLeaving? What is that like our family motto? Did you ever stop to think that Iâve changed my whole life --â
--
The last thing she does is smile up at Kal-El, trying to assure him as best she can, despite the fear that slowly settles in the pit of her stomach. Falling, at least, feels a lot like flying.
--
âJâonn?â Kara whispers, fingers tenting over a knee as her chin falls down to it, eyes flicking over towards the familiar, somber face. He hums in acknowledgment, the afternoon sun painting the shining floors of the new DEO building in a way Kara is still getting used to. Everything is so...shiny now. Not all...rock-lair, cave-motif.
âSupergirl?â His voice is gruff as always and she wonders if he would understand what itâs like to not sleep for nearly six days, because sheâs certain he sounds like heâs never slept, at all.
âDo you think we can ever be happy? I mean, sure we can, right? Saving the world...â She trails off, chin tipping back as she searches the lines of an exposed ceiling, the words to her question lost on her tongue, unsure how to phrase it outside of her mind, âI know weâll stop Cadmus--I mean, who comes up with a name like that, anyways? What does that even mean--and weâll stop whoever comes after that, and I know that the world is full of rules . Especially for people like us. But one of those rules...one of those rules has to be that we should be happy, right?â
âI thinkâŚâ Kara doesnât look at his face, but his voice sounds so calm--so confident--so steady as his fingers curl around her shoulder, âIf thereâs anyone that deserves to find out, itâs you and your cousin.â
âYou think?â
âI know , Ms. Danvers.â She turns to take in his smile, then, and she leans into his hand before the squeeze becomes a pat. âYouâre still not sure which job--â
âNo.â Kara sighs, âIt's not that. I think I know, I just...I wonder some days if--I mean, between Alex and Kal-El and Cat--â
âJâonn!â A voice calls around the corner, âWeâve got reports of a jumper on--â
--
The last thing she thinks before the impact of the ocean engulfing her like an unwanted gift, the pain rattling like a broken babyâs toy through her shattering bones, is that Eliza? Alex?
Catherine?
Theyâre going to kill her if she dies.
The water soaks through her suit, ice and lifeless, staining the white of a list until it crumples so that when itâs unfolded, for the rest of its life, it will never unfold the same way, again. Like the thin line of glass that can never be repaired to its first form, an uncompleted list will crumple at the edges and fold in uneven lines, some of the ink running at the edges.
It will change--break and mend--just like a heart can.
--
Rule #72âŚ.
--
Life isnât as dramatic as the movies--as the books she spent years pouring over bent knees devouring--and maybe hurtling herself and a man bent on destroying dozens of people (herself and her cousin, included) off of a bridge is maybe a little dramatic by nature, but waking up from it isnât.
She wakes up to an empty room, the heat of a sunlamp staining the rise and fall of her chest with life.
She wakes to a dozen voicemails and one text, in particular, that makes her swallow--she wakes to Kal-Elâs smiling, cut face as they both heal--she wakes having not really slept, at all, five and a half days lacking it settling down her healing bones underneath a false Sol just as much as the Kryptonite had.
She wakes up to J'onn's nervous eyes and Alex gone and doesnât let herself heal and Kal-El doesnât ask her to. She wakes to her sun having set and the world tasting like cold and green and she tucks a bracelet back in her pocket, not having let go of it for a moment--a breath--the entire time she laid there.
Kara wakes up, maybe, but she doesn't feel awake.
Kara tears apart the city to find her sister and doesnât let her go when she does, a murmured apology in her ear thatâs doubled ten-fold against her neck.
She wakes and heals and saves and a few hours later, all four of them--Jâonn, Kal-El, Alex, and Kara--are once again in two separate cities, determined to protect the people within them, moonlight at their backs.
Death doesnât stop them, and neither does Metallo. She rips out his heart and barely keeps from crushing it beneath her palm.
Kara doesnât remember being in the water--doesnât remember much save for falling--but sheâll see the headlines of the image of Superman cradling her body against his chest as he stumbles out of the ocean like a beacon as he holds her , a bracelet limply hanging from her fingers as the sun settles on his shoulders and dances shadows on her bruised, barely recognizable features. Both of their forms cut and bruised and hanging on the edge of life, war-torn and martyrs.
Sheâll see the picture hung on the edge of what was once Catherine Grantâs wall, along with their other highest-selling covers--right next to the one of them both healing, scraped and bruised, towering over Metallo--for months every time she walks into the office and feels a chill hang over her features.
She doesnât remember, but sheâll see that picture and will shatter a breath against her teeth and understand why Cat couldnât bear to look at it, at all.
The whole night is spent tracking Cadmus with little to show for it and, eventually, in the early hours of the morning--day 6 because being in some kind of coma or something does not count as sleeping--Kara hugs Kal-El tighter than anyone else could, feeling Alexâs fingers on her shoulder, and tells him that sheâs staying.
Sheâs staying. Thatâs a decision she knows how to make. Sheâs not going to Metropolis. Sheâs never going to Metropolis, not as long as Alex is here.
So Kara watches him shoot off into the twilight sky, taking a piece of herself with him--thankfully taking the last of the Kryptonite, as well--before she kisses her sisterâs cheek and shoots off, herself.
Itâs nearly five in the morning when she sets down on a familiar balcony and wonders why she isnât surprised to see Cat leaning on the edge of it, swirling a glass in her palm. Either she stayed here the entire night--unlikely, given Carter--or just started early, but the circles unhidden, silhoutting the features of familiar eyes is telling, enough, and Kara has to swallow down more than breath when she comes closer.
Without a word, bruised fingers gently untuck a bracelet from a suit, a little squeezed but since cleaned (haphazardly cleaned in a DEO sink by her cousin at Karaâs pleading, pleading look, and then feverishly cleaned the moment Kara could stand on trembling knees an hour later) and offers it palm up to the woman next to her as their shoulders brush, settling next to her on the balcony.
Itâs not unusual that Kara doesnât know the right words to say--itâs a daily occurrence--so when Catherine takes a long, long drag of the liquid before reaching forward, nails almost reverently skimming along the expensive, bent bracelet, Kara doesnât bother trying. Instead, she just holds the bracelet up as Cat becomes reacquainted with it--dips fingers underneath the shine of it--and when her loverâs breath finally rattles into the night, Kara doesnât mention the wet sheen to dark eyes, clear even so high above the city, lights dim and quiet. She just gently unhooks the bracelet and slides it around Catâs wrist, raising it up to her lips and kissing it in silent apology, just as she had before plummeting into the ocean. Not that she would tell Catherine sheâd done that, at all.
That doesn't seem like knowledge that would help.
At least this time, she feels a heartbeat flutter underneath her touch.
And Catherineâs so slow about it, the way her wrist turns and so carefully cups Karaâs cheek in a trembling palm, thumb brushing over the high rise, underneath the worst of her still-healing cuts, that Kara wouldnât know the words even if she tried to stumble over them.
âThat is not what I meant by diving. You certainly like causing a spectacle of yourself, donât you?â Itâs a dry whisper--like a barrel full of whiskey, a burning match hovering above it--and Kara just leans into her. Itâs been a long day and thereâs familiarity in it, a hint of a laugh flushing cool cheeks.
âSomeone likes to tell me I like being difficult.â Kara swallows because the thin smile Catâs attempted gives way to something else, leaning down to slot their foreheads together and the quaking anger does little to overrun the hint of something far worse on her loverâs tongue.
âWe have nearly three dozen witness testimonies regarding your idiotic heroics, and none of them understood the gravity of what happened in front of them. Pictures showing you bleeding before you practically backflipped off of the bridge. You could have--â
âI came home to you.â Itâs gentle and loving and a little desperate, lips brushing over a forehead and Catâs fingers tangle so tightly in her suit that she can barely breathe. âCatherine--â
âYouâre still bleeding.â Itâs a searing breath that curls up in pain at the end, Catâs fingers tracing the wound below a bloodshot eye and Kara catches her wrist with a faint wince as that jaw lines itself with steel and features contort in something indistinguishable before Catherine pulls away altogether. Voice far colder: âYou missed your deadline--â
Kara selfishly kisses her like her life depends on it--like she canât catch Catherine with fingers or words, so she tries chasing her with this, instead--pressing her up against glass with a withering, breaking sigh against parting lips. Fingers tangle in her hair and the sound of a bracelet clattering to the floor is lost underneath the scratch of heels, because Kara had forgotten to re-clasp it.
âI donât care about my deadline.â Kara kisses her again because the further and further Kal-El shoots into the sky, the further the green seeps out of her bones and she knows she can keep Cat here against her with super-strength, but sheâd rather keep her with something far darker in the pit of her chest. Almost accusing: âYou came up here to wait for me.â
âI wouldnât--â Catherine practically hisses , a frustrated breath on the edge of her tongue rolling like a locomotive up her lungs, her hands cupping cheeks and tugging her close. â Yes . I had to see you with my own eyes.â
âIâm right here.â Kara promises, pulling away so that Catâs fingers can trace every single line of her face like her thumbs are far more knowing than her eyes. And they might be. She sucks in a sharp breath when a thumb swipes underneath that same cut, surprised when Cat tugs her down and gently brushes lips underneath the puckered edge of healing skin.
Catherine kisses her again, consuming and rough, and Karaâs knees shake before she's suddenly pushed her away, again, just as rough and just as consuming, jaw setting.
âWeâre crashing the cover.â
âYouâre--â Kara blinks because itâs five AM and she doesnât know how she missed the noise--the life in the building--because her ears are still full of Kryptonite and her lungs might still be full of water, âOh.â
âYou donât work here, anymore.â Cat straightens her hair--her blouse--sets aside her drink and stands taller than Kara knows how to, shoulders wilting and something quaking pushing through parted lips.
â...oh.â A hint of a desperate laugh, wishing she at least had the bracelet to hold onto because suddenly she feels very, very cold, surprised when fingers gently tuck up her chin and she comes face to face with Catherineâs determined, unwavering gaze. Thereâs something sad there, now--something Karaâs well aware sheâs put there--and it makes her swallow feel like glass. But still she canât stomach the thought of Metropolis, not now. Not after holding Alexâs trembling hands and not after seeing the look in Catâs eyes. âIâll--â
âI extended your deadline.â Cat whispers and Kara blinks.
âYou--â Another blink, unable to help the surprise. A third blink because-- âReally?â
âKara, Iâm tough, not cruel.â Her voice is quieter, then, fingers falling from a chin and Kara boldly catches them.
âI donât think youâre cruel, I just--â
âThought that I was going to fire you for trying to save someoneâs life on the off-chance that you were stupid enough to die?â Cat supplies and Kara swallows.
âWell, I--no? Not exactly...that. Maybe fired me to make a poi--â
âStop talking before you dig yourself into a hole superstrength wouldnât get you out of. Iâm well aware of what people think of me, I donât need to add what your pedaling little thoughts are to the--â
Kara reaches up to cup her cheeks in a way that makes Cat visibly tense, words dying out before she smiles, âYou donât want to hear that I think the world of you? I know itâs a little too cheesy for your tastes.â
âYou really have to stop talking.â Cat warns but thereâs a hint of a smile there, now, and lips brush over a forehead, holding the smaller form against her chest for as long as sheâs allowed. Which is longer than expected, long fingers gently raising to spread out over a heart as a nose slots against a neck. Kara can feel the heat of the sun--faint and faraway, but there--on her back by the time Cat untangles herself, a rough sigh sliding past her lips. She bends down and clasps the bracelet properly on her wrist, now.
âCatherine,â Kara murmurs before she can go too far, kissing the rise of knuckles before letting her lover go, completely, âIâm not saying that I think what I did was...okay. Iâm not trying to make you feel better, but I...did. Come home to you. Iâll always come home to you, if I can. Youâre--youâre what gave me the strength to--â
Cat raises a hand up in-between them, stopping Kara in her tracks, and the look on her face, however brief, is pained enough that Kara feels regret over saying anything at all. The bracelet jangles as the hand lowers and the CEO of CatCo looks back towards her lit office, shoulders straightening and heels clicking, a discarded drink on the nearby balcony table.
âYou have until Friday afternoon, 4 Oâclock, not a moment later. Youâre not stepping foot here in any form of professional capacity until then.â
âOkay.â Kara breathes--nods--looks back up and clears her throat at the straight line of shoulders she wishes she could spend hours easing the knots out of with well-intentioned fingers. Knots she caused. And she thinks Catherine was right, this weekend--she does have to learn how to live with affecting her. âThank you...Ms. Grant.â
Cat nods and leaves and the balcony feels colder for it.
As cold as the city seems without Kal-El--without Kryptonite, even--and Supergirl turns to tower over her city for a few more minutes before falling down to the street, to the corner around the corner, leaning against the wall by Noonanâs.
She strips off her suit and slowly pulls up jeans--a shirt--and looks down at glasses, cracked along an edge sheâll need to fix, cupped in her palm as the sun starts to rise. She listens to the city wake and the life paint the streets in gold and red and green and with a suit tucked in her bag, a cut slowly healing underneath her eye, Kara Danvers starts the long walk home to an empty apartment across the city.
Alive and exhausted and cold, she doesn't really feel like flying.Â
 --
 **Kryptonian Translations, Mythos, and other DC shenanigans** Source(s) Language **Zhalish: Pardon, excuse, absolve, disregard, exonerate. Another way of saying "I'm sorry". verb P: [nĚŠ.ĘĂŚ.liĘ]; Kryptonian: :ZAliS
#supergirl#supercat#kara danvers/cat grant#is kara ever gonna pick her job?#who knows#ff#ff: sc#fic: 72 rules#fic: sc#fic: 72 rules ch 8#I'll add the ffnet link later#I'm on a delay with ffnet#because tbh I hate it
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I need more batman media but I don't know what to watch or where to watch it and Netflix took off Young Justice and Justice League :(:( do you have any fic recs or fun facts
A. Â Blogsto follow if you havenât already followed them, the first three write FREAKINGAMAZING fanfic and the fourth creates THE BEST fanart I have literally sat and scrolled through these blogs for hours
@camsthisky (good GOSH I love her she writes so much about Dick Grayson)
@audreycritter
@preciousthingsareprecious
@laquilasse
B. Â RandomFics to Read (and honestly there are so many more, I just canât think of themat the moment):
1. TheAcrobat SeriesÂ
by fishfingersandjellybabies http://archiveofourown.org/works/4079917
Look anytime anyone talks about how much Dick loveshis family theyâve won my heart and soul. I especially like the Kori section.
2. Â Mori ShejÂ
bydickiegayson  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12298375/1/Mori-Shej
OH MY GOSH. Â Ilove this story so freaking much. Â Ok,imagine if Jason Todd, after coming back from the dead and going through allthat stuff with the Lazarus Pit and training, goes after Dick Grayson to gethis revenge on Bruce. Â Except when heshows up at Dickâs apartment, ready to kill the Golden Son, he finds somethingcompletely unexpected. Â Jason has a lotof issues, Dick has a lot of issues (courtesy of the Blockbuster incident). Â I have read and reread this story countlesstimes, and I can never not cry because I love my broken sons so much. Â There is a lot of anger, some cursing, muchregret, and brothers being brothers. Â And Dick is the sweetest most protective [redacted because spoiler] and Jason has a mushy heart after all. Â Itcan stand as complete but I think the author is writing more? Â Also, either before or after, or both, go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqeNxdyp5CEand listen to the song. Â It is my newfavorite song and CAN YOU IMAGINE DICK SINGING IT OH MY GOSH
3. Â the roadwill only be wide (the rain will never stop falling)Â
by weird_bird (2weird4) http://archiveofourown.org/works/8610391/chapters/19743343
A collection of Dick and Damian moments. Â So very beautiful.
4. Â The RobinsUnited Series, first story is Bird by BirdÂ
by laceymcbain  http://archiveofourown.org/works/2656487/chapters/5936243
âŚsome hurt/comfort, Jason doesnât know what the hellto do with his family, and they all insist on calling him brother.  *shrugs* family feels are my drug of choice
5. Â Penny LaneÂ
by @jerseydevious  http://archiveofourown.org/works/11757690
Damian wants a horse, and drat Iâm crying?  (tbh I cry very easily over my sonsâŚbut still)
6. Â Sun SpotÂ
byDawnâsEternalLight (@preciousthingsareprecious) http://archiveofourown.org/works/11748606
This fic is a quiet moment of beauty and rest for Dickand Damian. Â Damian draws, and Dickwatches his talented little bro. Â Thereis sunlight. Â You skin will clear andyour crops will grow and any heartache you have ever had will be healed likemagic!
C. Â Abunch of fics by Kieron_OâDuibhir
1. Â TheTill-Then From the Ever-Since http://archiveofourown.org/works/3506603/chapters/7707866 Â
There is a problem in the Batcave, as in, youngerversions of the Batfam keep turning up. Itâs absolutely fantastic, and one of my favorite things is youngerJason being SO done with his older self and calling him out on stuff and being all protective of his brothers. Â It gets better and better with every chapter.
2. Â But a Walking Shadow http://archiveofourown.org/works/4259511/chapters/9641367
 Sothis story is not finished yet and the author takes waaay long to post updateson it but she has promised not to abandon it sooâŚIt is Nightwing-centric, witha whole mess of comic Teen Titans making appearances.  The author has written a lot of stories abouta world where Dick became a Talon, and in this tale Talon-on-the-run winds upon Earth-1 and Nightwing is trying to figure out who this apparent clone of hisis.  Talon Dick has always intrigued me,and it is interesting seeing him and Nightwing face off.
3. Â All the Roofs of Uncertainty http://archiveofourown.org/works/2273208/chapters/4994631
HOLY HECK this is one of my favorite Jason Todd fanfics EVER. Â I love the description by the author âThe onewhere Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.â Â Jason is in the wrong spot at the wrong time,ie. He finds Dick bleeding to death and is forced to save him. Â Tim and Damian make appearances. Â Jason has anger issues. Â That doesnât stop him from caring. Â Bruce and Jason hash things out in the mostbeautiful (painful) way.
4. Â Wheel and BladeÂ
http://archiveofourown.org/works/2492957
 Inwhich Dick confronts Damian about his practice of taking weapons to school, andalso gets slightly distracted by the idea of living in a vardo.  I love this story because it shows the bestway to parent Damianânot by telling him no âbecause I said soâ but byexplaining and debating things like he is smart and capable. Â
5. Â I Pass the Night Watchman on His Beat http://archiveofourown.org/works/2326226
Thisis a cool one-shot of Dick and Amy, his partner on the Bludhaven police force. Â I freaking love Dick being a cop.
D. Â Okay now if you want something towatch:
 1.    NightwingâTheSeriesÂ
by ismahawk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o297A1wmys0
This is THE BEST Nightwing fan film I haveever seen. Â I love the Dick Grayson in itâheâsgot acrobatics, sounds like Jesse McCartney (Robin/Nightwingâs VA in YJ), and is quite handsome. Â He fights, gets the stuffing beat out of himand keeps getting back up, has a bit of a temper, loves Barbaraâperfection. Â Watch it, you wonât regret it. Â (Also Jason is there yay! Â I will take him in any capacity I can get. And I kinda really like the actor for Bruce?)
2.    RedHood: The SeriesâEpisode One âHomecomingâÂ
by tenshunn https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6BdVSgshgFA&t=136s
My favorite Jason Toddfanfilm!!! Â Heavily featuring TimDrake! Â Look this adaption is fab, I lovethe actors and the dialogue and the fight between Jason and Tim (spoiler?) Â As far as I know they are trying to puttogether a second episode. Â Watch thevideo where Jason Todd tries to get people to donate money for it, itsHILARIOUS
3.     Batman The Animated Series is on Netflix tillSeptember 1st.  Iâm in thesecond season and love it a lotâŚAlfred is so freaking sassy! Â
4.    DamianWayne: Robins Fly at Night
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tS30bYjVmL4
 Itâs just five minutesand doesnât have any dialogue, and it doesnât come close to deserving an Oscar, but dang it itâs hard to find Damian stuffâŚand also seeing a littlekid running around in the Robin costume made me realize that there is nothing Iwant more than to see Damian Wayne on the big screen, being all angry assassinkid, and Dick Grayson capturing him in a hugâŚ
5. Gotham on Netflix
I am pretty sure you already watch this? But if not, DO! Â It is AMAZING. Â I love it so much, especially Bruce and Alfred and Selina Kyle
E. Â Some things from Batman: Dark Victory

Okay I know he is a talented young acrobat and all but how the FUDGE did Dick get up on that chandelier?! Â the kid can truly fly (yeah yeah, the stairs probably lead up to a hallway floor/balcony that Dick leapt off of but still) I wonder how many grey hairs the kid gave Alfred in those first weeks alone

On dark days I like to remember the time bby birb Dick Grayson caved in the Jokerâs cheek with a well-placed kick. Â My nine or ten year old son then proceeded to smash in the Jokerâs teeth with a stick a few minutes later and it was amazing

You think I lied?? Â Nah my son Dick Grayson was cracking teeth and bones and witty puns from Day 1. Â Go Robin!!!

Okay so just look at this picture. Â Bby Dick is SO FREAKING TINY!!! Â also very intense. OMG Batmanâs fists are as big as his first sonâs head! Â *cue a very many feels in my heart*
F.  Random things I am including because I feel like it, and they all revolve around Dick Grayson mostly because he is my fave soâŚ
1. Apparently some official websites say that Nightwingâs martial arts specialty is Aikido. Â I do not think that word means what they think it means
2. âI close my eyes now for a few moments and I can see my parents riding the air current with me. Forever young. Forever strong. Their faces wide with excitement, big smiles on their faces, enjoying the adrenaline surge even more than I do. And there is one thing I am sure of ⌠my parents would be proud of my life.â (Nightwing, Nightwing #141, 2008) Â
3.  [Talking about BlĂźdhaven] âItâs a hopeless case. A lost cause. A town so mired in corruption and sin that itâs drowning ⌠When Batman sent me here, I thought Iâd solve one case and book. But then I realized ⌠if I could make a difference here â well, thatâd be something. This filthy old town needs meâŚ. Surrounded by a dozen of my worst enemies. No way out. Nowhere to hide. The little brat was right. I do love it. (Nightwing, Nightwing Secret Files #1, 1999)
4. Â There once was a dumb writer who thought killing Nightwing for real would be a good idea, and he tried writing toward that end, but everybody else was like hahahaha NO
5.  I used to hate when fic writers would shorten Damianâs name to Dami (kind of like how I majorly dislike when people shorten Sirius Blackâs name to Siri, he is not an iPhone gosh).  But then I read a post on tumblr that said something about Dami actually meaning something in Arabic, something like blood or life-blood or heart bloodâŚI canât exactly remember what and maybe it isnât even true but I choose to believe it is and that Dick knows exactly what it means and he calls Damian Dami as a way to show how special he is, how much Dick loves him.  Because Damian is his little brother/son and means the absolute world to Dick.  And Damian, though he pretends to despise all nicknames, absolutely LOVES that Dick calls him this
#ummm I hope you haven't read all these fics yet#there are so many good ones out there#there is a tim drake one i can't remember the name of but if I find it I will add it#also I didn't really say anything about the girls#i love them a lot but somehow its the guys who i always talk about more?#sorry#also I talk about nightwing a lot#that I am not sorry about he is the love of my life#gosh def watch the nightwing and red hood films#so good#i need my dc streaming service like NOW#i kept getting distracted while writing this because I kept reading fanfic#batfam
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this has been sitting in my drafts for literal months but uh ... I'm still like. writing this into actual fic BUT hawke chronic pain headcanons, bc i am in chronic pain and i love to Project (this got long i'm sorry lmao)
hawke has some pretty gnarly scars going from her upper right arm, up her neck and just over her jaw from the fight with that big fuckoff dragon in the bone pit in act 3, and bc of the placement of the injury and the fact that anders was prolly too busy making sure everyone was at least breathing to worry about healing it neatly, there's a lot of thick scar tissue and muscle damage that restricts the movement of her staff arm. it hurts to twirl her staff around the way she does, but she still does it out of habit (and being a blood mage she's used to there always being an undercurrent of pain during battle anyway, so she largely ignores it when she's fighting)
she pays for it after a fight tho. it's not immediate - usually she'll go to bed that night and wake up at 3am in a lot of pain. her and merrill do what they can to deal with it in the moment, but they're both garbage at actual healing (in game merrill doesn't even have access to the creation tree iirc) so it's mainly just chugging a potion and using heat to ease some of the tension until hawke can get to anders' clinic in the morning
after they all go their separate ways following the run from kirkwall, hawke doesn't have her favourite healer readily available to help her with her arm, so she just deals with it the best she can. the sensible thing would be to try and limit the amount of fighting she does so as not to strain herself, but hawke has never been sensible, so she just deals with it
that is, until inquisiton, when they get to the western approach. they're fighting those possessed wardens at the ruined temple and of course, hawke is flinging and twirling her staff around dramatically like she always has, and afterwards she groans and squeezes her eyes shut and has to sit down, and varric puts a hand on her knee and goes "shoulder again?" and she just grunts and nods, fully prepared to chug a health potion, apply heat and get absolutely wasted at camp tonight to deal with it
...except solas notices. and i know there's no actual healing spells in inquisition, but i headcanon that solas is pretty damn good at healing. he's no spirit healer, but he knows what he's doing. and he goes "i could help with that, if you'd like" and hawke's first instinct is to make a joke and tell him not to worry about it - lavellan's got a bruise on her cheekbone, deal with that first - but varric gives her a look and she acquiesces. and it's the first time in two? three years? that her arm hasn't ached and stiffened after a battle
and when they return to skyhold, hawke drops into the rotunda to thank solas, and then while she's there, she looks up at his veilfire brazier and his frescoes and at the books of elven lore on his desk and she just. launches into questions. and he is so surprised, because from what he'd seen out in the field (and read in varric's books) he honestly didn't expect her to be so eager to learn. he's lowkey impressed. dorian overhears from the library and joins them
come nightfall lavellan walks in to see the three of them huddled together, books strewn over the desk, diagrams scribbled on parchment, and they're casting spells and jabbering to each other excitedly. for some reason hawke's shoes are off. they don't notice her, so she can slip out and find varric and go "hey, come see this" and when he walks in he gets this big rush of deja vu from all the times he'd walk into hawke's mansion and see her on the floor with merrill and anders as they pooled their different knowledge together to experiment (usually resulting in hawke setting something on fire) and varric feels all kinds of warm and fuzzy
anyway. hawke. under all her bluster and shitty jokes and feigned irreverence, she's in a shitload of pain all the time (emotional and physical) and she tries her best to ignore it and carry on (because to her there's never been another option. also vulnerability is scary and she will avoid it by making dick jokes). also she's a giant magic nerd (don't try and make her read books on it tho. she learns by doing). i love her to pieces
#rian#rambles#she's in pain literally every day of her life following the bone pit fight and like ... bitch MOOD
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