#so it just swirls like that in a thousand colours and shes just stuck in rigid black and white

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

babygirl whos soooo in touch with her emotions <3

[slytherinshua]

MY HEART RETURNS

summary. your love is pursuing his dreams as a violinmaker in italy, leaving you to wait for his return. genre. slight angst. fluff. based on whisper of the heart. warnings. some crying. reader feels lost and alone and like she's not good enough :( not proofread. pairing. zhanghao x fem!reader. wc. 1.3k. request. no. a/n. tiánxīn = sweetheart btw. ofc hao is already perfect for the role of seiji cause he plays violin (also he looks like seiji fight me). for all the other writers out there (even tho i don't ever plan to get properly published) we all relate to shizuku so much :') her struggles are so relatable and i just love whisper of the heart so much i think its such a beautiful and underrated ghibli movie. divider by @/aquazero.

The night air nipped at your cheeks as thoughts swirled in your head. Hundreds of worries, feelings, and uncertainties followed you wherever you went, and all you could wish was to be back in high school when everything felt a bit easier. Back with Hao to occupy all your thoughts and in turn take your mind off of everything.

Sometimes you wondered if waiting was really worth it. You were doing your best to pursue your dreams, do well in your final year of university, and throw yourself and your work at different publishers, hoping that one liked you enough to give you a chance. But you felt like a constant failure in comparison to your boyfriend. You’d always thought opportunities were more beneficial than school. Hao only seemed to prove that to you.

He was working in Italy, getting valuable skills from the masters. You were still stuck in your hometown, going to the same university everyone else in your family had gone to, trapped in the same system. You wanted to get out, prove yourself, do something meaningful with your life. But did you even have the talent to? Were you even worth it?

On nights where your thoughts just wouldn’t leave you alone, you grabbed a handful of Hao’s letters and walked up the hill back to the spot where you used to watch the sunrise with him. You missed him more than anything. Without his presence, you felt lost. There was no one to ground you, no one to reassure you, no one to believe in your flimsy dreams.

You hadn’t received a new letter in a while, and you were starting to wonder if it was a post issue, or if Hao was too busy to write. You hoped you would get one soon. It was the start of Winter already, and a breeze blew past you, causing a chill to run up your spine. You hugged Hao’s old jacket closer on your body. It must be even colder in Italy…

You slid one of the old letters out from its envelope. You were always careful to keep everything intact. From the colourful wax seals to the elegantly written address, to the coarse texture of the fancy paper, everything about it was precious to you. Hao was always meticulous, and his presence could be felt from every detail of the card.

Tiánxīn, how are things back at home? Lonely. 

How is your writing? Did you finish the last 3 chapters you were struggling to write? I finished the final draft last Saturday. Are you proud of me?

I’m doing well here, although I never stop missing you. At least one feeling is mutual. 

It’s the beginning of Spring as I write this, and the flowers are starting to bloom. Every pink bud reminds me of you. How are you always so romantic, Zhang Hao?

I taught some kids how to hold a violin properly the other day— one of them almost dropped it. I swear my life flashed before my eyes. If they had broken it, I could’ve gotten kicked out. They don’t know that they’re handling a piece of wood worth thousands of dollars. As much as it scared me in the moment, spending time with the kids cheered me up. Childhood innocence is an endearing thing, don’t you think? It is. Is it bad that I wished you had gotten kicked out just so I could see you sooner? I want you to tell me everything about Italy with your own voice.

I’m starting to find beauty in things that used to annoy me. It’s a strange feeling, but I think I could get used to it. The flowers used to only make me sneeze, but now they’re a gentle reminder of who I’m living every day for. Children used to get on my nerves, but now I can only think of your baby pictures. I keep working hard every day hoping that I’ll get a break to come visit soon. I’ve been saving up for tickets. Hopefully before Winter, I’ll be back in your arms. It’s Winter now… I miss your arms around me.

Ever yours,

Hao

You could only sigh and blink back the tears that had formed on your waterline. Why did he make you miss him so much? You sniffed, from the emotions and from the cold. It was getting even later in the night, and while you didn’t want to leave your special spot, you also needed sleep.

When you got back to your cheap apartment, you sprayed some of Hao’s perfume on your pillow and changed into pyjamas. It was funny how much time went into hunting for the exact fragrance he wore; but you had been thankful for it every single day since you bought it. Any way you could to bring traces of him back to your home was worth it. You fell asleep hugging the pillow tightly and hoping that he would grace you in your dreams. 

A soft puff of air hit your nose making you scrunch it up. It woke you out of your slumber, but not enough to open your eyes yet. You were in a confused bleary state trying to figure out where it came from. You definitely didn’t leave the fan on in the middle of Winter, so why…?

“Tiánxīn, wake up.” 

You blinked your eyes open slowly, furrowing your eyebrows as the view came into focus. Light from the morning sun shone through the window, cascading down until it hit the side of a face. Hao’s face.

“Am I still dreaming?” You whispered. A lump formed in your throat at the thought that you were— you must be. How could he be right in front of you? He was still far away in Italy.

He shook his head, a smile splayed on his lips. He moved closer, his weight dipping down on the bed. You could only stare, memorising everything about him. His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze dropped to your hand and he reached to hold it. His hands were warm and the skin of his palm was soft, although his fingertips were roughened by calluses after years of playing strings. He cupped your cheek with his other hand, brushing his thumb against your skin.

“I missed you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to come visit.” He frowned slightly as he saw tears start to build in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, as if still deciphering whether he was actually real. It had truly been years since he had first gone for his apprenticeship and then got accepted full time to make violins and teach. Although you had communicated through letters, it could never compare to being with him like this. 

“It’s okay.” You tried to steady your voice, force the lump in your throat down, blink back the tears. But you couldn’t with him right there.

“Don’t cry.” He wiped your tears carefully, his touch soft as always.

“Kiss me. Please?” 

And he obliged. He would always do anything within his power to see you happy. If you told him one day to fly to the moon and bring you back a piece of it, he was sure he would find a way, just to see you smile. The feeling of kissing him again was indescribable. You’d forgotten how it felt to be kissed by his soft lips, how they melded with yours like a dream. As if you two were meant to be.

You knew you always were. Your love story, although it sometimes felt tragic, was like something out of a fairytale. You would never forget the lengths Hao went just to get your attention. How ambitious, determined, and caring he was. He was your constant motivation to keep striving to be better. 

It was hard to live for your dream while being so far apart from him. Part of you knew that he would have to go back. Maybe in a month, maybe in only a week. Maybe sooner than that. Your heart would break once again saying goodbye to him.

But, for now, as he kissed you in the morning sunlight on your bed, you felt your heart healing from his touch. The long years away from him were a small price to pay for moments as precious as these. 

↳ zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,

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[oceanlipgloss]

WATERCOLOUR

ANDREALPHUS.

+ warnings: angst, mentions of blood and death.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

Was this what it’s like to wash away one’s sins?

The water was warm on his skin. The sky may have been weeping blood above him, but that was just the shower. The enamel tub was dyed crimson, as though painted with watercolour. Molten garnets trickled down his pale flesh.

Soap makes foam that’s white in colour. Water is clearer than crystal. Red are the tears of his sick victims.

He couldn’t see, but she could; she watched the pure water turn a morbid hue. Ugly, turbid. She watched cherry-red get bleached into the shade of unhealthy peaches.

Water of nauseating colour.

Like watercolour it trickled down his closed lids. Tears of pale blood.

A vicious sight.

So much gore.

Starving burgundy snakes slithered with ominous slowness into the water. Were they his own hissing sins, or those of his violent destiny?

When he was a child, the world had bared its sharp teeth at him. He had so many enemies.

There are children who enjoy dipping their soiled brushes into clean water just so they can admire the way colour swirls and makes the liquid unrecognisable, changing its very identity and composition.

Despair is like that too at times, isn’t it...? Pain destroys some souls and mangles others beyond repair and recognition. The victims begin to wonder who they are, and whose mistake everything was.

Who was it that fucked up? Was it the people, fate, God? They themselves, perhaps? Each and all of those factors together?

So many questions, but no definite answer. Life’s complexity is a displeasure. Why do things have to be this way, stay mysterious forever?

Endless millennia to think about, thousands of subjects to ponder. There are those who have the time to contemplate, and those who disappear early. Maybe much too soon.

Her touch melted his skull. Soft. It was soft. With her breakable hands she tried to erase the evidence of his hatred. With her breakable hands she tried to clear the proof of his anguish.

Behind his lonely back, she radiated warmth.

The cold bathroom floor was wet with murky water under her feet.

Creamy was the scent of soap and rancid was the smell of blood as they twirled into one in the air, lacing the steam.

Everything could have made one feel queasy. Even him. He was marred, bloody.

Yet, with a swollen heart aching from heartbreak for his misery and lust for his body, she merely thought about how he was so sad and so very pretty.

He felt better, but she was only washing his hair. It’s not that important. It’s not permanent. Tomorrow he would once again think about something dark, something else.

Death can be nice sometimes.

After all, he was alone. He had no one. So had he not promised revenge, if it were not for bloodlust and justice, he would have liked to disappear, too.

+note: finally got around to finishing this WIP that's way past its expiration date. It's so old it was beginning to rot. Depressive episodes and stress normally paralyse my 'writing-brain,' but this was another one of those rare times in which that was not quite the case. I was still somewhat reluctant at certain parts, though that's pretty normal anyways—and surprisingly enough, I managed to continue writing with a sort of ease. Thank you to the torment for taking this damn WIP out of my way, I suppose.

On a side note, long before the game's ordeal I was clueless about how to continue all the 'What in "Hell" is Bad?' WIPs I had, so I scrapped 98% of them. As of now, I have one WIP for each of Leviathan and Andrealphus, but I'm stuck and still debating whether to finish them or scratch them out as well. Besides, the displays of greed and the in-game mess lowered my desire to write 'What in "Hell" is Bad?' fics to near 0. However, albeit the fact that I no longer feel compelled to do so, I guess I'll likely write if ideas visit me. Normally, it would be hard to resist writing an idea I like, of course.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[cinnamonroll999]

Soulmates AU

Fandom: Keeper of The Lost Cities

Genre: Soulmates AU, Alternate Universe, Fluff

Relationship: Sophie Foster/Keefe Sencen (soon to be Foster)

She'd imagined it in a lot of ways, with a lot of people. A sweet nerd with glasses and an accent she'd meet at Barnes & Nobles, a snarky green-eyed boy just full of sarcasm who she'll spill coffee on like in that one webtoon, someone dark-skinned with warm brown eyes who had the most lovely smile. But out of all the places in the world, Sophie certainly didn't expect to meet her soulmate on an airport.

She was exhausted and hadn't slept for 30 hours. She was stumbling through security when her hand brushed someone's. 

Not even looking up, she muttered a quick "Excuse me" before placing her bag on the conveyer belt. Her vision was so hazy and her mind absent that she didn't even notice the thousands of swirling colors on her wrist where she'd had contact with the stranger, thinking they were spots dancing before her eyes.

"Wait!" Someone behind her shouted.

She rubbed her eyes and turned to face the stranger, "Yes?"

He showed her his elbow which was covered in swirls of blue, black and purple and then gestured to her own.

Her eyes widened at the realization and she looked at her wrist. Sure enough, it was painted white, sky blue and about a million other colours. 

She smiled and looked at the stranger- no, her soulmate. He had the widest smile she'd ever seen and was looking at her with such adoration and happiness. She couldn't believe she was the reason behind it.

The people around them noticed their grins and colourful arms and started clapping. It wasn't something odd. Everyone met their soulmate even if they didn't end up together. It was fate for them to. But it was still a special and amazing moment in their lives. It was only right for them and everyone around them to celebrate it.

She was vaguely aware of them whooping and clapping, but her attention was fixed on the boy in front of her, drinking him in.

He was beautiful. Blond hair with soft curls, blue eyes an icy shade yet they were so warm and sweet. Even in only a rolled up  jacket, jeans and grey shirt, he looked like the most charming and glamorous person she'd ever met.

"I'm Sophie Foster." She said, breaking the silence between them as she snapped out of her surprise. "And you are?"

"Keefe." 

"Well, Keefe, I guess you're my soulmate."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, you're stuck with me."

She laughed. "If you ask me, I'm pretty fortunate."

He smirked. "Don't be so quick to decide. Go on a date with me first."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Fast, huh?"

"What? People go on dates to get to know each other better, right? And we're soulmates. We need to know each other better. So go on a date with me."

She chuckled. "Okay." 

They exchanged numbers.

Her stomach felt like butterflies were in it and Sophie finally understood why people said meeting their soulmate was a magical experience.

"I'll call you." She said, clutching her phone tight as if standing in a balcony.

"I'll be waiting." He said, still grinning as she walked away.

As soon as he was out of her sight, Sophie squealed and started jumping up and down like a child. "I MET MY SOULMATE!!!"

[saabbi]

Regret part 9

Light in darkness

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: self-deprecation, imposter syndrome

word count: ~1.7k

notes: please remember that you are loved, and not just in the fic itself.

[previous] [next]

No words are needed to exchange. Zhongli must surely be curious, worried even, to find out what happened in Snezhnaya. But he remained quiet, pushing away the rampant thoughts running across his mind.

What’s most important isn’t digging out what happened, but that you’re alright and safe.

Zhongli doesn’t miss the pale complexion on you, making sure to swing by Bubu Pharmacy to ask Baizhu for some antiseptic cream and aspirin just in case you’re still feeling unwell.

He brought you to his residency, which is unsurprisingly close to the funeral parlour. A few sprouting flowers in the interior caught your eye, the blue distinguish colour resembles that of a jewel. It must be a good season for glazed lilies to grow and bloom.

“Would you like tea?” Zhongli turns his head to you, holding up a few cups.

“Yes, please.” He also takes out some cakes, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’re way too full for some tea snacks.

Zhongli is definitely inquisitive, his occasional glances and slight frown shows that he has much more to say apart from asking if you want tea and snacks.

But he didn’t ask you any questions, never pressuring you into telling him. He decided to wait until you feel ready to talk about it. For you, he can always wait.

You hold the cup in your palms, the warmth gradually spreading to your whole body.

“Zhongli,” you take a sip of the refreshing tea, making up your mind. “Can you ask Ganyu and Xiao to come? I… have something to tell you all.”

Zhongyi nervously nods with his heart thumping, not sure if he’s ready to hear what you have to tell them.

.

.

Silence fills the room, then your sharp inhales, the unsteady voice and shaking pupils as you begin to speak.

Your shaking voice, your spilling emotions, your trembling hands. The suffocating feeling in your heart and the bitterness in your throat. You keep on going, you can’t think straight, you feel light headed and exhausted, but you want to keep going. You want to tell them, the things you saw, the things you felt, the worthlessness eating you away.

Ganyu tugs your arm and hugs them tightly, Zhongli and Xiao each resting a hand on yours to remind you that they’re here. They let you keep going, even if you look like you’re in pain.

They listen in silence, allowing you to spill everything in the safe space. You stop for a second, hearing sniffles from the horned girl next to you.

Ganyu shakes her head, telling you that she’s okay, and that you can go on.

With trembling eyes and hoarse voice, you tell them, how you thought you would be okay even if the Tsarista didn’t need you anymore, thought it would be okay even if she throws you away. But you weren’t, your heart sunk to the bottom when she implied that you’re no longer needed, as if all the time you spent by her side as a faithful subordinate meant nothing to her.

You mentioned that you know the Tsarista is only interested in the power you possess, you repeatedly told yourself that if it’s what the Tsarista desires, you shall comply without any hard feelings, for you are her harbinger, her title-less twelfth harbinger.

So why did it hurt so much? Why did you feel something worse than physical pain? Like you were stabbed with thousand swords, mercilessly piercing you without a break, making you lose your breath and vision cloudy.

It felt like the world crumbled, blood rushing to your head and the sudden heaviness taking over your body.

Oh. In the midst of talking your own feelings out, you realised- you felt angry, desperate, hurt, betrayed.

You realised, that over the years, loyalty is not the only thing that sprouted. You always brushed it off, pretending like it never existed, but deep down, you felt angry.

Angry at the Tsarista for pulling you away from Liyue, angry at her for letting you go through terrible things, even if you can’t remember clearly what happened.

The mixture of admiration, loyalty, desperation and anger has always stuck within you whenever you see her cold yet graceful figure.

But you had nothing except her, so you clung onto your loyalty towards her and repressed other thoughts of her, ignoring the tingling senses and blindly telling yourself that you’re always loyal to the Tsarista.

Every single word that comes out, Zhongli takes them in all, even if it pricks his heart like thorns. He takes a deep breath and shuts shis eyes, he wants it to stop. But he knows he has to listen and share your burden.

He wants to listen, even if it hurts, lamenting for the times he couldn’t be there for you. But now, he could. And the least he could do is to listen to you.

In the past, Zhongli failed miserably as a guardian, but now he has the chance to be with the three of his beloved adepti once again. He’s the listener, he’ll always be willing to listen to you if you confide in him.

Zhongli takes one last gulp of his tea. He embraces the crushing pain in his heart and clasp your hand tightly.

You stutter and choke out some incomplete sentences in the process, words tying into knots, but it’s okay. There’s no need for you to rush, they have all the time and undivided attention for you to tell them whatever you want.

Your right hand feels like it’s about to be crushed, somehow. You glance over to the side and is met with another pair of amber eyes.

Glossy eyes filled with uncertainty, concern and shock. His mouth gaped open, unable to find words, so he chooses to hear instead of responding.

The way you described your journey in Snezhnaya feels lonely to him. Xiao is no stranger to the feeling of solitude, but your gaze feels far, far more lonelier than what Xiao has ever been through. He watched as unfathomable emotions swirl in your eyes, your gaze shifting every so often in trying to find the right words.

A part of him thinks that, perhaps he should’ve sought for you, or even just send a single letter millennia ago instead of pathetically dreaming in the Wangshu inn, then perhaps you wouldn’t have to always feel like you're all alone without anyone to rely on.

Xiao holds your other hand tightly. He doesn’t know how to show affection, but he hopes that this reassures you that you’re no longer alone.

Your lone narrative went on for minutes, then hours, until you lost track of time. You then mutter the last few sentences.

“I lost my powers, I don’t feel qualified to be an adeptus anymore, I-“ this part is harder to say than anything else. “I don’t know why I’m here, or anywhere anymore.”

“I feel like I…lost my purpose.” First was your abandonment from Zhongli, the bane of your misfortune. Then was the Tsarista, the one who broke you more than anything else. You feel lost in life, wandering without a purpose.

“I’m just a… nobody.”

Slam. The sudden impact on the table made you jump. You look up at Xiao who suddenly stood up and slammed his fists on the table with brute force.

His frown is deep, eyes burning with fury and looking at you with disbelief. He is livid.

“Don’t you dare say that one more time.”

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and tilt your head a bit. At first you thought he’s mad at the fact that you willingly let your powers be taken away from you, but that doesn’t seem to what he’s mad at.

“You are not worthless, not a nobody. I won’t forgive you even if you say that one more time, even if you said it yourself.”

Xiao clenches his fist tightly, glaring at you. He rarely gets mad at you, it makes you feel a bit guilty.

“Xiao’s right.” Ganyu joins in, her palms squeezing your arms with force making you turn to her. “Please do not say that, ever again. You mean everything to us, how could you- how could you say you’re worth nothing?”

Ganyu has a sorrowful look instead. You don’t know how to respond to them, you can’t figure out whether the present incompetent you means everything to them, or the you they once knew and adored.

You think of the latter one. After all, there’s nothing much on you that is actually worth something.

Zhongli seems to know what you’re thinking, as he slowly opens his mouth. “My child.”

“Nothing changes the fact that you’re an adeptus, one of us, with or without your adeptal powers.”

“No matter the past, present or future you, will always be the one we love.” His gaze firm and solemn, trying hard to convey his feelings to you.

“You don’t have to be perfect, it’s okay to be incomplete.” Zhongli stands up and treads towards you.

He stops next to you, bending down a bit before enveloping you into a tight hug. You stiffen up.

“Because no matter what, you are you, and nothing will ever change that. And the fact that we love you will always be true.”

Hic. You let out ugly voices from your throat, breaking into a ugly sob and staggered breathing.

The warmth warping you increases, with Ganyu and Xiao joining.

Zhongli soothes you by brushing your back softly, Ganyu patting your head and lightly ruffles your hair. Xiao appears to be quite awkward at first, but decides to rest your head on his chest and warp his arms around your head as you sob.

It’s so warm, so warm that it feels unreal. Words of affirmation and love is such a stranger to you, the words and actions they display makes your chest hurts.

Your heart tugs at you, but you know it’s not because you’re sad, it’s because you feel relieved, happy, and thankful.

You are loved. Even if you don’t realise it.

Love is not determined by how much one spends time with each other, nor will it diminish with time or distance.

Forgive does not mean forgetting. The past cannot be reverted. The resentful decisions Zhongli has made in the past remain embedded in history and cannot be undone.

However, it does not mean that relationships cannot be rebuilt. A step at a time, as long as you’re willing to, as long as you are here and with them, things can start over.

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for extra info/drabbles on this series: #adeptus reader asks please feel free to send some asks as well :)

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[salami2]

← Chapter 1 →

They Call It Teyvat…

⇥ fem!reader x genshin men ⇤

(n) a homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was.

Synopsis: It felt like a dream when you first arrived to this odd land. No clue on how you got there- let alone leave. Soon enough, you met Paimon and started the journey of finding all the archons of Teyvat. Along the way, you catch the eyes of numerous men… to your demise.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning(s): Nothing really! Mentions of Venti, Dvalin, dresses, etc.

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I’m sorry, I closed the requests just so I could work on this crap. Anyways this is just pt. 1 to many chapters. Enjoy!! Really though, enjoy!

“Hey… I need you to wake up now. I know it might be hard…”

A thousand voices rang through your mind, getting lost in a sea of voices. The one that called out was different then the rest. Calmer, quieter… more desperate.

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake-“

Your mind jolted awake, sweat growing on your forehead and body. What a horrible feeling of waking up to a nightmare, you thought. The voices were still ringing around your mind.

The feel of spikes underneath your fingertips convinced you that this cushioning was not your bed. You came up from the grassy ground, dirt dug deep into your nails.

“I must’ve thought I was clutching my bed sheets..” You thought while scraping away the grim.

But you were right. This in fact was not your bed- nor your bedroom. No. In fact, this was a grassy area in a not too familiar scenery.

It was lushious. Like a calm summer's day. Dew drops on the bright green grass made it almost sparkle in the daylight. And the smell of rain could be smelled. Fresh in the air.

Oh, this was most definitely not your home…

Goodness what were you doing here? Your mind tried to trail back to what you could remember. And you could only think of bits and pieces.

You remembered pitch black; owls howling in the nearby trees. Remembering that you cried asleep.

“Thinking back isn’t going to help me, wherever the hell I am…”

You thought. Inside, you were panicking. This was not your home. It was strange, nothing looked familiar to you. And yet it felt familiar.

This place, this time. It feels too nostalgic for you to say it’s new. To say it’s unfamiliar.

“Oh, my god it looks like I’m stuck in a.. fantasy novel! This scenery is gorgeous.”

It suddenly occurred that you were on a cliff side. You carefully trudged over to the end of the cliff, looking over to see the view. What you could see amazed you..

There were walls. They stood so tall and grand. Peaking over those walls was something to be expected.

It was a city, from the looks of it. Hiding away behind those walls. With even bigger towers and buildings. With windmills! And massive buildings in the back. Maybe they were the important ones.

Wait, what were you doing just standing here like a fool??

There’s civilization out there! And all you could do was gawk like a fish? You embarrassed yourself. Still- that place looked nothing like you’ve ever seen before.

Your first thought was somewhere in Europe. The scenery seemed that way. And from first glance, Germany? Yes. The structures would explain it all!

“heeeeeyy!”

A faint sound ringed from the distance. Coming from the bottom of the cliff. From what you could make out, it was almost like a child.

Children? No, it can’t be. The voice was quite childish, but it couldn’t be. And where they calling out to you?

Suddenly the voice started to grow; louder and louder. Until you could see the face behind the voice.

Whatever it was was tired, screaming, and flying right into you.

Wait-

You fell back with the force from the flying child. The thing fell into your arms, swirls in its eyes and a red bump on its forehead.

It didn’t take long for the thing to wake up, though. Immediately flying up to your confused expression.

“S/O! There you are! Paimon’s been trying to find you everywhere, and this is where you’ve been hiding!?”

It’s face came inches away from your own, huffing in frustration. So far all you could get was that this thing was named Paimon. And it was angry, for some reason.

“I-I’m sorry, Paimon,” you managed to get out, “I just wanted to see the scenery. Y’know?”

She huffed. “And you better be! Now c’mon, I brought you a simple dress for you to wear. Be grateful Paimon is such an amazing companion.”

The flying girl looked proud of herself. Thinking it was stupid of her to be proud of a pointless feat. But then again, she was quite small and frail. You’ll let this slide.

She was right about one thing: you needed to change.

Peering down to your legs, you noticed the attire you were sporting right now. A… hospital gown, from the looks of it.

The fine dress she had picked out for you was decent. Basic and brown with a leather belt. Perfect for being unnoticed. Along with a satchel with simple embroidery. You felt a little worried as to where Paimon might have gotten this from…

“Thanks, Paimon. Uh- should I change here, or?” You asked. She puffed out her cheeks in frustration.

“NO! Are you a savage or something!? Here, Paimon will take you to somewhere remote and then we can go to that city over there. Uhhh, what was it called? Oh yeah, it’s called-“

“Mondstadt. It’s called Mondstadt…”

Rigid bark against your palm went smoothly along the trunk of the tree.

You and your lovely companion, Paimon, had found a spectacle that was still unfamiliar and new. An old statue resting underneath a grand, oak tree: just sitting there while the world went by.

Standing underneath it alone made you feel intimidated. Wondering how the hell a tree could get so big.

“Wow… damn, I wonder how old this girl is..” you said to yourself. “Hey, Paimon? Can you tell me where we are again?”

“Uhhh, Paimon doesn’t know the name. Oh! But Paimon remembers they call this continent Teyvat! That’s about it, though.”

You hummed to yourself.

“Teyvat… wait, a continent? Then that means there’s countries inside of this place. Or whatever this world follows.”

Before you and Paimon left, you had mentioned Mondstadt before she could. Funny- you had never known of that city before and yet the word seemed to fly out of your mouth.

Paimon floated up near your shoulder, looking panicked and scared.

“S/O! I saw something weird in the sky!” She exclaimed, taking a small hand and pointing up towards the clear, blue sky.

You stepped away from the tree to see what she was rambling about.

It was like an instant did the flying green object go by. Leaving you and your floating companion speechless.

“AHHHH- DID YOU SEE THAT!?” Paimon exclaimed while tugging on your sleeve.

You couldn’t help thinking to yourself. “Huh. You don’t see that everyday-“ still in awe at what just happened. “C’mon Paimon! We have to follow whatever that thing is!”

She gasped dramatically. “Follow!? Did you SEE how scary that thing was??”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped up the pace and started jogging. “Paimon, if it is what I think it is; that thing that was in the sky might just be a dragon!”

“AND HOW DOES THAT MAKE IT ANY BETTER!?”

While she groaned in detestment, Paimon quickly trailed behind you. You- being determined to find that dragon- kept running towards the direction it was going.

It took a while, but you stopped in the middle of a thick forest. Hearing grunts of an animal getting louder and louder as you peaked from a nearby tree.

What you saw shocked you; to say the least.

A boy, arms reaching forward near the snout of the dragon. Smoke coming out of its nostrils.

“… Don’t be afraid.” He said, trying to calm the beast.

“… It’s alright now. I’m back.”

You felt something happening crawling on your skin, arms. It was odd. Looking away and at your arms, you finally saw. Eyes widening.

Turquoise veins appeared- running down your arms. Glowing for what seemed like a split second. Soon it stopped. Your veins, disappearing.

The dragon roared. It echoed across the entire forestry. The young boy's arms went to cover himself as the dragon tried to attack.

“Who’s there!?” He called out. The dragon, now enraged, spread its coloured wings and flew off to who knows where. While the boy vanished with a bright light.

The same bright light that you encountered…

“Oh, my god… what the fuck was that?” You were too staggered to mind tongue. Looking back at your arms.

“A-are you ok? Your arms…” Paimon said under her breath.

Ok? Ok wasn’t the word. You were… lost, scared, thunderstruck, worried, anxious, terrified to your wits ends.

But all you said was-

“I remember.”

“So wait, Paimon is confused-“

The day still burned brightly as you walked down yet another gravel path.

“Confused about what? I remember. I remember being in a… hospital. Yeah- a hospital. Also, there were people surrounding me and I just… passed out.”

Your face while rembersing showed Paimon enough to know what you were gonna do.

“Paimon… I have to get back,” you said, “I- I remember, there’s something I need to do!”

The flying toddler was confused and hazy. Get back? Another world?? She didn’t know how to respond to what you were saying at all.

“Uhh- well, if you need to get back home, Paimon might know a way…”

“Really?? What do you got?” You persisted.

“Well, all over Teyvat they mention these deities called the seven archons…”

“Deities…” you mumbled under your breath, thinking out loud.

“A-and they created all the elements of the visions you see today. So, if anybody can get you home, maybe they can…?”

Suddenly, your hands flew to Paimon’s shoulders. A shining beam plastered across your face. Oh yeah, Paimon was scared.

“I’m in a new world full of magic and mystery, trying to find seven gods that might take me months, years, or even DECADES to find… LET’S DO THIS, PAIMON!”

You scurried away. Seemingly towards the massive towers you could see in the distance. Paimon gasped, catching up to you.

“A-are you crazy!? No way you could ever do that! Paimon could never dream of such a… ridiculous thing!!”

Alas, you could not hear her over the feeling of pure excitement and adventure in your eyes. This is just like in the books! Where there’s magic and powers and hidden romance- everything you loved to read!

“Too late! C’mon, let’s get to Mondstat quickly so we can find the first god!”

You ran off ahead. Leaving an annoyed Paimon to trail after you.

Oh yeah, this was most definitely gonna be a journey to remember…

@salami2

[ginazmemeoir]

Mmkay so this is just a fic idea that was swirling in my head, based off the tale of Kacha and Devayani. hope you like it :D

tagging some : @gopikanyari @momo-all-the-way @carmen-riddle @taareginn @reddish-green-personality

@holding-infinity-and-a-book @aadyeah @weird-u @the-fault-in-our-inquilab @dragonfairy1231 @allegoriesinmediasres @mango-pickle

The afternoon sun poured through the trees. A breeze flowed through the forest, picking up pace and then lazing back, like a cat trying to chase bees. Kacha, Sharmishtha, Prabha and I had gathered near a brook. It was our favourite spot in Vrishaparva. There were no prying eyes, and devas did not interfere in asura territory so we were safe from them as well. Everything seemed a bit too bright and colourful whenever Kacha was around. He chalked it up to the fact that his mother was a yaksha, so he had a connection with the forests. I sighed as I admired him – his flowing shoulder length locks, his wide nose and high cheekbones, his smile, the way he talked with the cows, his biceps as he whirled around his lathi. “Quit ogling him and just go up to him already or you’re gonna end up alone in a pit” said Sharmishtha, elbowing me. “I don’t even know what you see in him. I hear the other asuras call him a ‘deva bastard’ and a ‘twink’.” “That’s because they’re jealous of him. No asura could match the way he looks, or the way he behaves” I reply, cutting off Prabha’s useless critiques.

The wind picks up pace once again, and Sharmishtha gets up chasing her dupatta. A blue lotus flutters and drops near my feet, and I pick it up. It shimmers as if dusted with moonshine, and its scent made the fullest of roses in bloom in spring smell like stale bread. Prabha put it along with the other flowers in my gajra, and said “Even Lakshmi wouldn’t look half as beautiful as you when she sees you like this” she laughs merrily. I push at her playfully, and that is when Kacha arrives there. He was mostly silent, listening, observing, so it made me feel as if the lotus was a drug when he said, “Devayani, can I have that lotus?”

I hastily pluck it from my hair and give it to him. Sharmishtha returned by then, leaves in her hair, and her torn dupatta in her hand. “It was stuck in a branch and I had to climb 6 feet to retrieve it.” Kacha was oblivious to her rant, and he kept looking at the flower, as if studying a complex problem. “Do you like it Devayani?” he asks. I stare at him, slack jawed, dumbfounded to reply for a minute. “Yes she does. Now Kacha why don’t you get her those flowers?” “After all aren’t you the one who brings flowers for her priceless gajras?” say Prabha and Sharmishtha in order, teasing Kacha. A blush creeps up his cheeks, as he replies, “Lady Devyani is my guru’s daughter, it is my duty to serve her.” What I wouldn’t give to hear those words, but spoken with love instead of reverence. “They grow near the river’s source, in a lake nearby. That is the only place you can find these blue lotuses.” Sharmishtha says. Determination fills Kacha’s eyes. Sometimes I do wonder if he lies about his half yaksha parentage, for there is certainly something… different about his eyes. “I will return by dusk with your cattle Lady Devyani.” He assures me, and leaves for the lotuses, getting his lathi for the trek up ahead. I don’t believe his promise at all. Twice he’s promised me before, and twice before have the other jealous asuras murdered him, and twice before has father resurrected him through the mrita-sanjeevani on my plea. I look behind him, hopeful for the love budding in his heart, and dreading for his safety.

Dusk creeps its way into the ashram. I stand at the gate, looking anxiously for any sign of Kacha, when the asuras, led by Atibala, arrive at the gates. They were clearly coming after making merry, and I could smell the scent of honey wine on them. “Guru Shukracharya, please come accept our obeisance” says an asura, slurring his words and giggling half way through. Father arrives, in his flowing white dhoti and beard, annoyed at the disturbance in his prayers to Shambhu. “Who is it at this late – oh Atibala! Come, it is always great to see an old student!” says father, as he invited Atibala and his companions. Maybe he wouldn’t greet them the same way if he knew they were the ones who had murdered his favourite disciple in cold blood twice. Or maybe he did know, but chose to ignore it. Atibala brings a pitcher and a goblet towards father and offers him wine. Father took the goblet and greedily inhaled the scent, swirling the vessel. An enthusiastic wine connoisseur, father downed the goblet in one gulp, remarking afterwards that it tasted different. Atibala attributed it to fanciful terms like the right serving temperature, touched father’s feet and left. Father soon after retired to his chambers, leaving me alone.

The sky is now dotted by stars, illuminated by the first rays of moonlight, and I start panicking. There is still no sign of Kacha. I rush towards father’s chambers and wake him up. “Father, Kacha hasn’t returned yet. Please do something!” I cry. Father immediately gets up, all hints of the sluggishness from the wine gone. He instructs me to light a lamp, and to wait outside. After what feels like eternity, but would have been a blink of an eye for him, he calls me in. His expression is gaunt, and his hands are trembling. “What happened father?” I ask, warily. “Kacha is no more.” he says, as if tired. “What?” I reply, shocked. “I SAID HE IS DEAD. HE WAS CUT DOWN BY ATIBALA AND HIS PARTY, AND THEN THE SON OF A BITCH BURNT HIM.” “Father, you are the only person in this universe who can revive the dead. Twice you have revived him at my behest, I vow father this is the last time I ask of you, please bring Kacha back.” I plead again, trying to calm father’s rage. He goes into a meditative trance again, but returns back quickly, this time even more shocked than last time. “Kacha is in me.” I am too stunned to even comprehend what he means. “Atibala mixed his ashes in my wine.” Father says, disgusted and horrified at himself, his students, and fate’s cruel turn.

Dread floods me. I cannot choose the man I love, about whose love I’m not even sure, over my father. Father, as if sensing my thoughts, says in a resigned tone, “Devyani, I can only resurrect Kacha on one condition. I will have to teach him the mrita-sanjeevani, which Kacha will then use to resurrect me back once he comes out of my body.” Father sounds like a defeated man. Obviously, such a heinous act by ones students was bound to leave a teacher like this. I kneel beside father’s bed, holding his hand, calming and healing him through my powers, as he starts chanting the mantra. Slowly, a faint light starts emitting from him. Kacha then emerges, making a sickening sound as he tore through father’s abdomen. Immediately he kneels down beside father, laying his hand on his chest, and utters the mantra. Father’s stomach seals up, and his breath returns to him as he opens his eyes. He still has that odd look of resignation on his face, and looks at me with – pity?

Today has been a lesson to me, a lesson that matters of the heart while shouldn’t be rushed, should certainly not be stayed, lest the heart’s wish never take wings. I can’t even bear the thought of losing Kacha again, not without telling him how I felt about him. “Kacha,” I start, as I move towards him “, I am in love with you. I love you like the dawn loves the sun, like the river loves the sea, like the clouds love-“ “Stop Devyani.” Kacha says, interrupting me midway. I fear what’s going to happen. Is he offended? Or does he not love me? “Devyani, I must return back.” Kacha says. “Where?” I ask him. Kacha had showed up on our door once, and each time I asked about his origin or parentage, he shied away. “Back to Amravati.” he replies. The deva capital? I look at father, who has instead chosen to look at the floor. I look back at Kacha.

I now realize the heartbreak that poets so fondly mention, as if stating the weather. How idiotic they are. Heartbreak wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t even painful. It was draining. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. The man I had fallen for saw me as nothing more than a tool. All those times I caught him looking at me, or when he caught I, was a performance. His demeanour? What about his silent laugh? Was the way he blushed earlier today also a performance, part of an elaborate use to manipulate me? A thousand questions flood me, but only one sentence makes it out of my mouth – “You lied to me. You-you used me?” Tears blur my vision as I take a step back. “You are just a deva spy, and you used me.” Kacha stays silent, his shoulders hunched and head bent. “And you knew – you knew and you kept this a secret from me!” I whirl at father. He looks at me with tear stained eyes. “Devayani I-“ “Don’t you dare even take my name out of your filthy impure tongue!” I shout as I turn back to Kacha. He flinches at my tone, and I see the glistening tears on his face as well.

“You knew how I felt about you. You knew I loved you, and you knew I would get father to resurrect you each time you died. Had you told me your truth, I would’ve kept my distance, I would’ve stayed out of your way, I would’ve respected you for fighting for your faction, and yet. Yet you chose to manipulate me and my love, you conniving betraying lying cheating deva bastard!” Kacha looks taken aback at my words. I can feel my features contorting from my rage and pain. I can feel the hurt I’m causing, the way my tongue bleeds Kacha’s heart like he bled mine. I muster all my powers, and then I utter words that would cause Kacha the most suffering – “Kacha. You have seen my love so far, but now you will see the power of my hatred and my wrath. Kacha, I curse you to never be able to use the mrit-sanjeevani. I curse you to forget the knowledge to use the same mantra for which you have died and returned to the world thrice. Let the devas know that their spy failed.”

Kacha’s expression turns to stone. He bows to my father and touches his feet, and my father, the chivalrous, honourable man he is, blessed the man who almost killed him and broke his only child’s heart with a curt “May you emerge victorious in all future missions.”. Kacha then flies out of my house, and a blue lotus, with petals that shone like moonshine and fragrance that made the fullest of roses blooming in spring smell like stale bread, falls at my feet.

[mymadmedleyw]

Death

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

(As this is the last chapter within the 'Going Angst Week 2021', a little reminder about the right order in reading the chapters chronologically (I suggest CMOT link): 4, 6, 2, 5, 3, and 7, 1)

tw: miscarriage

---

Blood. One could say after seeing it many times, sensing its rusty, salty odour within the air might have lost the sensibility to it after a while. But it never ceased on the weight if it was about loss, about death.

Then it always changed to the horrible, suffocating disinfectant scent with the white surrounding and the sound of silent sobs. Just as this time. They didn't even dare to count for how many occasions they ended up here, broken and devastated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" mumbled for like the thousand times the hollow voice. "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have-" the sentence trailed off by another chuckling, squeezing hard on his hand that was holding hers, never letting it go.

Every attempt, every hopeful try led back here and- and it just twisted his heart, seeing, again and again, the slightly greyishly paled skin that years ago was beaming. Years ago…

Suddenly the picture of the small child in her arms came back, like that could have been a mirage. Sadly, he was well aware it wasn't, that happened, but- what he had done wrong?

Vlad pressed his forehead on her, taking the same question that he was asking from himself during the past few years. Why he hadn't told her? It was the same damn question, but with a different meaning this time. Time… yes, that it was.

He clearly could remember the day in the hospital bed, staring at the black and white photograph, bringing for them good news again… and then he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had woken up with years of memories in his mind and- and then as he had sat up, holding his throbbing head someone put a hand on his shoulder, asking with the greatest concern if he was okay.

It had needed hours to understand it wasn't a dream, and by lunch – made by the most amazing woman on the Earth – his mind settled too.

As much weird it was, but this was the truth. Madeline Masters. His wife. Also aware of his state – that they, according to his new-old memories, together tried to keep at bay. He knew he lied to her about its seriousness. That she only was informed about the simply side-effects: floating, invisibility and intangibility, sometimes glowing hands – but she had no conscious about the rest, about the other form… (which learning from a memory surprised Vlad too).

He kept then on with that lie, just as with the other one too, that somehow, he remembered a time when everything was different.

It worked for years. To tell the truth, Vlad forgot everything after their first positive test, even after the second, or the third, but-

Then he didn't dare to count. He couldn't recall anymore the days when she was happy – except in that other life. He slowly was destroying her, breaking the sweet image of his love… He tried to tell her several times to give up, but as much as stubborn she was, like feeling she should have been a mother, she never listened.

Then he eventually had run some tests (surprisingly facing with the result wasn't even his worst day, because his worst day was now…). The accident in the lab, five years ago ruined his biology. It was his fault. Vlad had been on to tell her, several times really, that they- that they wouldn't ever have a child, but- but he had been afraid. He still was afraid. He was a coward, fearing to lose her, so then he never told her, but now…

"Daniel…" a hollow, weak breath was formed into a name. "I thought- I chose- I really thought this time…"

"It's okay…" Vlad whispered, fighting against the suffocating guilt.

Daniel… he almost could imagine a view of a boy with her kindness, smartness and maybe with his steel bright eyes, and-

A soft sniffling broke the silence in the room, he knew it would take days and weeks to calm her down (or months, especially that this time she really had hoped…). But then she would return to her obsessed determines, again, not giving up until she would be able to fight for it…

But Vlad couldn't watch it, not again. This time, it had endangered her life too. He just couldn't let it happen, not anymore… especially as the date slipped into his mind. It was the same as on the letter, containing the black and white picture of their second child… she would have been expecting her second and-

He bit his lips as hard as it drew blood, rusty, salty and sinner. The sound of the woman, the so loved Maddie died away in a faint snuffling, undoubtedly dreaming about a great life he couldn't give her… Even though Vlad was conscious of their reality, he still wished to fulfil her dreams…

Wish… suddenly his eyes snapped open, remembering word-to-word to his half-mumbled sentence before everything had changed and he had woken up in this dream (nightmare…).

Would it be that easy? –Vlad wondered, sceptical about such childish way, but then he grabbed on it, tight, as ridiculous it sounded, and he'd have literally killed to make her happy. So then, he opened his mouth, already putting together what he wanted to say, and then-

"Won't work." stopped him an abrupt voice, then the owner cleared it. "I set the rules with Desiree. She is not allowed to grant any timeline-altering wishes, unless I allow it." Vlad blinked at the sudden presence of someone else, searching with his eyes immediately to catch the person, but there was no sign of anyone, just a quiet ticking sound was telling someone was definitely there.

A moment passed in silence, making Vlad wondering about if he hallucinated the voice, but then it spoke again. "Clockwork, by the way, Master of Time – though it's rather a given title than a name. Theatrical, isn't it?" Vlad scoffed at the unmistakable enjoying waving of the words, whoever this ghost was – because, based on the invisibility it was undoubtedly an unearthly creature from the other realm –, he clearly was amused by this scenario.

"What do you-?" Vlad started, frustrated by the spectre's presence and mocking.

"Want?" was Vlad interrupted. "From you? Nothing… albeit your stubborn wish created a glitch that didn't suppose to exist. A knot, that tangled the flow of events, blinding me. In short," the ghost took a break. "you scarred the time." well, that definitely sounded like a lecture… but then, the title slipped into his mind, along with the accounting for: Master of Time.

"You can make it back…" Vlad pieced together. "You can change on the time, change on this all." he couldn't tell if it scared him or filled with him hope, but definitely that drew out a way – more like an alternative – after the wish-one. For a short time, the ticking skipped a beat, like the ghost would have been stuck on a thought, but then talked again.

"Yes, I can change on this all." was Vlad's sentence, almost exactly repeated. He didn't have to be a genius, to feel it wasn't an admitting. "But I won't." was it added, not even a second later. "I might be responsible to watch over the timelines, and every single outcome, but on this, I am afraid, I can't do anything. You created it, it's your duty to fix it, and decide." Vlad stunned. Decide what exactly? This or- that? It wasn't an actual question, he could give the answer easily, but-

Suddenly he averted his gaze from the space where he suspected the ghost was floating invisibly – getting on his nerves by that – then he looked back to the woman, gazing at his wife, and gently got out a long curly lock of hair that fell into her face. She seemed so calm, pale, yes, shattered by the tired wrinkles under her closed eyes, and…

"I see you already made your decision." Vlad heard the cursed voice again. He didn't have to guess to know his eyes were burning red, clenching his jaw and fighting inside to not lash out at the ghost, transforming to his other outlook and end the ghost, it that was even possible in case of a timeless existence. Was it really counted as entertainment for him? This?!

"It's not a decision." Vlad spitted.

"No, it really isn't." said the ghost sternly, accompanied by a sound that gave an impression like an old clock would have been adjusted, bored by the current discussion as if it had been something obvious, or expected. "But I am seeing no future over this certain moment, neither in this time or your original one. Just imagine, how it could be to be blind after millennia. Curious, I was for centuries to learn what it caused. Well, it turned out it was just a desperate hybrid's wish, fighting against his true nature, cornering himself to endless suffering than accepting the new him… comical, isn't it?"

It felt harder and harder to hold back and stay unmoved listen to the words, but as much as he loathed hearing it, if this Clockwork could mean the solution from this, then-

"Besides, what happens now, how you decide, is beyond me, I can't see through it, until it happens." defined the being, at the same time out of nowhere a swirling green-ness formed in the air. It was similar to the Proto-Portal, which Vlad had seen many years ago, but this was enough big for anyone to walk through it. "It's either this time or the other one, the knot you created still makes the connection available. But it has to end. Only one could remain."

Vlad swallowed, lost in the neon colour, like an unescapable doom that followed him everywhere. He remembered his time, his muscles still could recall the seizures, the endless days in that hospital room, and reading about his friends' perfect life against his… the ghost was right, he had been desperate, now he could control his other side, but it could be only thanked to Maddie, this Maddie… in that other world, he was nothing but- he was literally nothing… here, now, on the other hand, he had the love of his life, but still-

Suddenly, he put together no matter how he'd choose, what path he'd take, it would turn his heart a stone, destroying by the ghost's words the other time. But then, he took a glimpse at the resting woman, at his Maddie, silently sleeping unaware of another being's presence in the room, only lost in a dream-world her mind created. For a moment, he wondered about the possibilities, about the alternatives, but then, hard, Vlad realised it was out of the question.

He never felt his limbs as heavy as he stood up from the chair, earlier placed beside the hospital bed, to mean support Maddie after the loss... And he never felt more hatred towards anyone – even towards Jack – that now took over his entire body about the ghost.

"I really hope, you are able to see your so cherished future now." Vlad cursed, the sourness and hurt suffocated him from inside as he took a step towards the greenness.

"I do." acknowledged the Master of Time, but not spilling anything else, what it would mean or how things would turn out. But Vlad knew even if the ghost was aware of some outcome, he wouldn't be informed about those. As Vlad disappeared behind the gate between the two realities, he took himself a promise, to somehow, when everything had settled, whatever it would take, he would find Clockwork and claim justice.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon Epilogue

Jason is a CEO: Epilogue

When i started this fic (around 9 months ago-- holy hell we could have had a whole human in that time) i didn’t expect it to go in the directions it did or to produce the characters and story it did. While it’s not one of my more action-packed fics it is still very special to me because 1. it’s my first jason centered fic (of which we don’t have much of); 2. it’s my first really long multi-chap (the longest before this was 10 parts); 3. i got to explore so many of my crackships and dynamics of friendship i may not have been able to if we (for example) stuck to canon; 4. most importantly i love this fic because it started out (the very first chapter) as an original story that just was not going anywhere but when i decided to make it a fanfic, suddenly ideas were pouring from my fingers like wine from a split barrel. these characters feel as much mine as they are Rick’s (which is a dangerous path to go down and i’m not actually claiming they’re mine-- gods please don’t sue me). in short i love this fic dearly, i’m so proud of how far all these little babies have come (especially jason) and i hope you feel even a smidge the joy i feel over this, as you go on to read the very soft conclusion to Jason Grace as CEO.

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

There was something almost magical in the gleaming silhouette of the Manhattan skyline. There was something hopeful about it too. 

Jason Grace stepped out of his car, relishing in the sound of the gravel crunching under his feet and the babble of people all around him. His suit—  a deep blue, dark enough to look black, and glittering with tiny silver diamantes that looked like stars— clung to his shoulders and hugged his legs. The theme of the evening was “Starry Night”. He figured coming as the actual night was accurate enough. Drew and Silena had done a beautiful job on his outfit, to no-one’s surprise. He would see them here tonight, along with their husband, and the rest of his friends. And tomorrow, oh tomorrow, he would be off to Rome, with the man that filled his life with overwhelming light.

“Jase,”  Someone called out from the darkness, “Are you hiding from us because you put two different shoes on again and are too embarrassed to say?”

“Shut up Annabeth,” He laughed, “I’m coming.”

He walked towards the group of silhouettes, making out Leo and Annabeth, and Nico and Will, and coming from behind them were the dressmakers and their Charles. Hazel and Frank would be making an appearance later in the night.

“You all look beautiful.” He smiled, hugging them, kissing cheeks and foreheads, relishing in their closeness and their comfort, as he has always done. And they did in fact look beautiful. Annabeth in a dress of blue swirling around her and pooling at her feet— the colours matched the sapphire on her ring finger; Leo in a matching floor-length skirt and a sheer polo-neck that showed off every clean brown line of his skin; Nico and Will, in contrast, were complete opposites, the former in a black suit with silver jewellery, and the latter in an off white with gold accents; Silena, Drew and Charlie all had on suits with various parts of the galaxy embroidered in gold, threading a spectacular tapestry through the emerald green. All in all, his friends were really hot.

“Y’all ready?” Will drawled, tilting his head to the entrance of the hotel a little way away.

“Let’s go celebrate!” He winked in response.

And then they’re walking towards the bright lights, launching into conversations and updates and work and jokes. It was familiar in the way driving home after a long time away was, or catching a waft of the specific smell of your elementary school art room, or seeing someone from your childhood and slipping into a comfortable back-and-forth.

“Jase,” Charlie scooted next to him, breaking away from his conversation with Nico, “How’s the construction for the new section of the outdoor center going? I heard you hit a snag last week with the design?”

“Yea there was a few centimeters off with one of the structures and it caused the whole area to be off balance,” He scrunched his nose, remembering the horror from last week. “I’m just grateful we caught it in time.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since that center went up,” His friend marvelled, eyes wide with the disbelief of time. He knew the feeling well.

“It’s crazy. I came back from my holiday and then everything was just on fast forward.” He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m happy though, with the progress and how far we’ve come.”

“You’ve just burst and grown and brightened,” There’s that soft smile, the one that made all of Jason’s insides turn to mush. The one that told him he was loved in every capacity.

“I know.” He felt the blush creeping up his skin, pale after the long winter months. “I don’t owe it to myself though. All of you guys have—” 

“No way mister,” Annabeth chimed in, “You absolutely owe it to yourself. You got yourself there, we just cheered you on.”

“Yea,” Leo nudged his arm, a gentleness shimmering in his brown eyes. “You were the hero of your own story.”

He muttered thank you’s and tried to embrace the blush but their love and joy and pride still drowned him. Before anyone else could pile on the sincerity they were walking into the lobby and being ushered to the large, elegant ballroom three doors down.

There was a collective gasp from their group, audible even above the low hum of chatter, and the soft jazz drifting through the speakers. The entire room had been made to look like they were standing inside the middle of “Starry Night”. Like they were the townsfolk parked outside their houses witnessing the strange and magical sky above them. Swirls of blue in the draping curtains and circles of yellow in the chandeliers and wisps of the cypress trees growing from the walls as if the very room had been built around a tree.

“This is—” He didn’t even have the words to fully express his awe. If he were an art major he would have died from the beauty of it all. As it stood he could barely keep himself up.

“I know,” A voice said quietly from behind him. “It’s almost divine.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even turn around to see who it was. He simply stepped back and let arms envelope him. He didn’t need to check, because he knew, he would always know. In the heat of their skin, and the hum of their voice, and the love that radiated between them like scorching summer sun.

“Moró mou,” He sighed, tipping his head back to rest against a shoulder. From this angle he could see blazing green eyes and jet-black curls, and impossibly high cheekbones, and a jaw sculpted by Michaelangelo.

“Hello my love,” Percy Jackson smiled. “How are you?”

“Happy.” He muttered, lips brushing against his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Good,” The man nodded, squeezing his waist where his arms still wrapped around. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“I will not just survive through it,” His eyes crinkled at the corner as pure joy washed through him, “I will live through it, and I will enjoy every minute of it.” He knew the reason for the question, for the concern. But tonight it was not needed. He was nothing but excited and elated for the hours, and then days, weeks, years to come.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

A glass tinkled somewhere to their right, grabbing their attention. And then Zoe and Reyna were stepping together and drawing people towards them as if they were gravity, magnets, the center. They looked it certainly: Zoe in a stark white dress, hugging her figure, shimmering like stardust every time she moved; and Reyna in a watery blue, gauzy and flowing in time with her body, where she goes it will ripple behind her.

“Thank you,” His lawyer started, giving them a dazzling smile. “For being here. All of you.” She looked them each in the eye, her own filled with love and… were those tears? From his no nonsense, boss lady lawyer? Oh he was so going to give her a hug and then tease her endlessly about it. 

“We have a thousand people to thank for all of this,” She gestured to the room, “And a thousand more to thank just for being here, but that will come in the form of surprise take-me-homes at the end of the night.”

“However,” Zoe’s voice, still as strong and quiet as ever, rang out across the room. “There are two people we would like to thank right here, right now.” Her smile lit up the world as her eyes landed on them. “In typical us fashion, it’s a little out of the ordinary but please can both our ex-boyfriend’s come up here.” 

The crowd burst into laughter, him and Percy with them, as they detangled themselves from each other and walked hand in hand to the front of the room.

“As you can see,” Reyna grinned. Jason held in the groan he knew would accompany her next words. “We did a Partner Swap.”

The laughter only loudened, people whistling, and clapping in time with their amusement.

“I will spare you the sordid details,” Zoe’s own giggling softened to a smile, “But two years ago, after Jason and I had broken up, I called him in a panic asking for help. And despite being on a much needed holiday where he happened to meet a certain someone,” She winked at them, eyebrows waggling comically, “He listened to me, then made use of his contacts and connected me with Reyna.”

“And after I charmed the suit off of her, and won her lawsuit,” Reyna stepped in, grinning wildly, “She agreed to pop open a bottle of champagne and celebrate our win.”

“I’m not quite sure about the charming part, angel.” Zoe quirked an eyebrow, “But yes one champagne bottle and the rest was history.”

“In conclusion to this whole ordeal,” His lawyer turned to them, “Jase, Percy, we have a present for you, to thank you for loving us, and for loving us enough to let us go, and furthermore for bringing us together.”

Zoe handed them an envelope but before they bothered to open it they pulled the women in for a hug, thanking and congratulating them. He would not change what they had for the world. He will be grateful forever. He will love them even longer.

Percy ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and read with him.

The universe has a funny way of pulling stars together but we know with certainty that the four of us are born from the same constellation. Thank you for everything. We know we can never really repay you but please accept this as a start. 

Tucked into the last fold of the paper were two plane tickets to Japan. The holiday they had discussed once, a Saturday game night that ended with the four of them huddled around the fire in Zoe’s apartment, chattering softly about this and that. Printed in small font at the bottom of the page was a cherry blossom branch and more text that read,

Get married losers, we want joint holidays so we can get the couples packages.

He bubbled with laughter at that, and looked up at his friends, tears pooling in his own eyes.

“Alright everyone!” Reyna clapped her hands, gathering the attention of the humming crowd. “Let’s get this engagement party started.”

And then music filled the room and people dragged each other to the middle of the space and there were cheers as the song came into focus and truly Jason understood the meaning of life that night.

After they had thanked Reyna and Zoe again, and chatted with their other friends Percy pulled him to the dance floor.

“Jase,” His boyfriend cupped the back of his neck, arranging their bodies into a work of art. “We have wonderful friends.”

“The very best,” He agreed, swaying their hips in time with the beat. “We have built an empire with them by our side.”

“Will you be the emperor then?”

“There is no monarchy in this kingdom,” He smiled, blue eyes glittering and bright. “It is just us, and our love, and everything beautiful the world has ever had to offer.” He saw oceans reflecting back at him, wonder soaking in his words, happiness pressing against his lips.

His boyfriend pressed their foreheads together, bodies still moving to music far away. “And if we look further?” Percy breathed, “Past the empire, to the horizon beyond?”

“It is all home,” Jason Grace smiled. “We are home, my love.”

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

Okay there are so many people to thank and you best believe i’m going to thank them all because this fic would literally not exist without them.

@nishlicious-01​​ my favourite person, my biggest supporter and the only person who gets to shout at me when im writing fanfic at 1am because i’m not sleeping but also because ‘why am i not reading it ciara????’

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​ for every comment, every like, every complaint you took when the writing demon was on strike. you have my heart. id be lost and a little lonely without you.

@leyontheway​​ your comments on this fic were golden and i often came back to them just for that extra burst of motivation and serotonin. i found a friend in you and now i can’t imagine my life without you.

@msdrpreist​​ Sky, mi cielo, you are one in a billion and i cannot believe i found you (and you me) across all this space and time. thank you for your unwavering support and your wonderful thoughts.

@larrikin-is-a-himbo​​ when we started this fic i believe you were @/queenbrunnhilde (or something to that effect) but although your username has changed your loveliness and endless support hasn’t. Thank you for sticking along for the ride

@spoopylucy​​​ Lucy... what do i even say to the person who singlehandedly changed my day, week, mood every time i saw a reblog from them? your tags were the start and the end. they made every upload an exciting task. and i knew no matter what happened in the fic or how long it took as soon as i got a notif from you i couldn’t be anything but happy. thank you my Luce, you’re an angel!

@not-hiesenberg​ for being my ‘ciara what the fuck even does this say? do you know how to spell?’ checker when i was too tired (more like too lazy) to do it myself.

@lesbian-peanuts​​ thank you for the love! you were one of the first people interested in this little universe and i can never thank you enough for that​

@legendary-cupcake​​ your spam when reading this was such a happy moment in my life and im ecstatic that you stayed for the ride! thank you​

to all the people on my tag list, who have liked this fic, and especially those who have commented: i see you, i love you, and i thank you with a heart full of happiness. you changed my world.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

If it's alright can I request a story for Helena and MC, whereby MC is forced to result to violence and killing to protect Helena?

WARNINGS FOR: Violence Blood and Gore Some Language Helena’s abuse Spoilers for Route.

Written by @evoedbd

++++++++++

The ground was ash. Sodden with blood and sweat, forming mountains over the bodies of the fallen. Heat clung to Kya’s body, thickening the air in her lungs as she desperately tried to claim one more breath in the chaos. The horizon was aflame with the only consistent splash of colour, deep and raging ember oranges against the backdrop of dull greys and blacks. Smoke billowed from what had once been wagons filled with grains and long-lasting supplies for the starving Capitol. What once had been fields growing crops and hosting cattle were now a remnant of what once was. Battle echoed around her, clashing steel ringing around disembodied cries and coughs. Some were strong and hearty, those men might survive if they fought well. Others were weak, somehow wet in the dehydrated desert of death. These men wouldn’t make it. No matter how hard their fingers dug into the ground as they blindly crawled in search of clean air and their salvation.

It had all happened so fast. One moment, Kya had her arms wrapped around Helena’s waist, head on her shoulder as she dosed behind the saddle. The next, explosion. An attack so vicious Kya hadn’t even registered falling from the saddle, only the screaming. Only Helena barking orders between spells, trying to protect those who were unarmed, to protect the supplies for the poor villages near the Capitol.

Everything was merely white noise in Kya’s ears, a dull swirl of chaotic sound which served as an undercurrent for a pounding heartbeat. A heart raging against reality as it shattered her bones with every jarring beat. How was she to survive when the act of breath was a war within itself? What choice did she have? The heat against her bare palms was nothing compared to the worn grip of a jagged sword. She could feel the dampness of sweat, along with the smoothed tracks where leaner, longer fingers normally grasped. A familiar knick in the grip allowed her to understand how the callused palms of its mistress has come to be. A mistress resting several feet away.

Helena Klein was battered, a vestige of war, pillaged by blade and blow. Each breath was short, a slash of a blade or chop of an axe instead of serenity. Each rattled, as if the broken bones of her ribs might be coming up her chest, ribs she desperately attempted to hold in place by tucking her right arm tightly to her side. The majestic blues of her tunic parted like the seas, giving way to a landscape of soft, snowy flesh mixed with rivers of fouled blood springing forth from a nasty gash. The touch of a blade had begun at the curve of Helena’s shoulder, caressing down to the crook of her elbow, a path Kya’s fingers often followed. Only Helena’s grimy bracer held her sleeve together, protected her forearm from the same fate. The bracer Kya had tied with a gentle smile not an hour prior. One might think it yet another physical representation of how different the loves of Helena Klein truly were. The Queen’s affection was the battlefield, the agony, the desecration of body and soul.

Just like when she was in the Queen’s service, Helena was brought low, left to support her weight on her only uninjured arm, fingers splayed in the slippery mud which oozed through them, trying to swallow her hand. Bedraggled hair hung around her flushed face; white gold tainted to mousey brown by the blood of her foes. A representation, perhaps, of what each life taken meant to her gentle soul. Stains. Darkness. The evil she defied, fixating her icy glare at her hands in rebellion, even as she tamed her trembling body, harnessed her adrenaline and pain into stillness by her sheer willpower alone. Her refusal to let the leering soldiers break her, even with their blades prone to pierce to her vital organs.

The sight of Helena in such a position set something off in Kya’s chest.

Her heart rebelled, pounding even more ferociously within the weak confines of her chest. Drums. The feeling of speakers at a punk rock concert, shaking her entire foundation, filling her with nothing save her screaming morality wrestling with the concept of mortality. She’d failed. Failed. Failed. Failed. She was meant to protect Helena, to never let this happen to her ever again, yet Kya was stuck watching those soldiers prod and taunt the Sorceress, keeping her pinned like a feral creature. The dog The Queen had forced Helena to be. That thought hurt. Kya ached. Rage and helplessness spread beneath her skin, leaving her with a physical sensation of fingers pressing against her flesh from the inside. Filling her, making everything so tight, as if she might simply explode. Shadows played across moonlight as one of the soldiers lifted his sword, mouth moving as he delivered an undoubtedly smug line. Kya didn’t hear, couldn’t hear, over her own blood rushing.

“-No! Please! Helena! Stop him! Oh god, he’s going to kill her! I can’t! Gotta move. Gotta move. Get the FUCK AWAY FROM HER! Fucking MOVE Kya!-” Her mind could only work in snapshots of a thought, missing everything save the panic. Loss pounded at her mind, threatening to take everything she cared about. Her soul sunk, falling into a blazing heat that travelled through her veins to every needed muscle. She was so tense it hurt, as if she were slowly snapping every strand of her being. She sprung into desperate action. Her hand tightened around the hilt of Helena’s blade as she leapt, rushing the man with his weapon raised.

HELENA!

The cry would have been worth alerting the soldiers she was charging, yet no sound escaped. It was nothing more than a shriek echoing within the confines of her mind, burning in every fibre of her existence. Try as her body might, it couldn’t force out even a single sound in the seconds it took for her to cross the distance. These fuckers couldn’t have her! They couldn’t treat Helena like some animal! Couldn’t put her down like a feral dog for biting an abusive owner. Couldn’t bridle her! Nobody had that right, and Kya was not about to let someone take it. Helena was her warcry, everything redirected to a singular purpose. To protect her very heart and soul from these fiends following a tyrannical Queen. The name caught in her throat, wheezed out in a silent burst of determination as she swung the blade with all her might. She couldn’t even care where it hit, only that she needed to save Helena.

She had seen a thousand movies involving beheading a man, where the dashing hero swung their blade and off went someone’s head. It was in a crushing moment of reality she registered that, yet again, the modern world of media had lied. Majorly.

The blade buried itself halfway through the man’s neck, grinding to a halt against bone as the soldier cried out. His gloating never met completion, the final words hanging on his tongue as blood replaced them. It dribbled down his chin, mixed with spittle, only to mix with Helena’s hair and the mud between her fingers.

“Kya!” Helena’s voice was rough with strain, yet the intensity of her command was sharper than any knife. Sharp enough to slice through the fog surrounding Kya’s mind, through logic and reason, and straight to Kya’s body. A single cry held a thousand reminders, a thousand little meanings that neither could ever put into words. Only action. Kya’s body was driven into action, even as her mind wandered further into the protective haze of mist and confusion. With a groan of effort, Helena pushed herself forwards, launching to extend her only good hand even as her shoulder and ribs came down hard into the mud. Kya was already moving, scrambling to grab Helena’s second blade, running straight for the soldier’s Warhammer. He brought it down in a deathly arc. Steel met glyph, casting sparks across the invisible dome Kya was dashing for like a child in a McDonald's playground. It was instinct to duck under Helena’s spell, slithering through the opening the Sorceress had provided. Just as Helena had taught her. This time, however, Kya abandoned her teachings of digging an elbow or a hilt into the soft underarm. Instead, she thrust with all her weight, pushing Helena’s blade until steel pierced the Soldier’s undershirt.

Again, Hollywood failed her. The blade did not slide in smoothly with a graceful thrust. Instead, it jerked with the man’s body, it met the resistance of bone, bouncing off it before sliding through flesh. For one terrifying breath, Kya hesitated. Not out of remorse or pity, but for the shock of resistance. The shock of what she had managed to do. What had she done? Oh gods, what had she just done? She’d stabbed a man. A man who’d left Helena bleeding… Her hesitation vanished. He’d cut Helena. Kya pushed harder, forcing the steel as deep as it could go. He’d tried to kill Helena. Kya clung tighter, twisting the blade was not as easy as Hollywood made it look. She didn’t expect the gush of heat over her unsteady hands as her awkward weight tore the opening of the wound wider. Nor could she have prepared for the sheer slippery yet grittiness as blood covered her hands. All she could do was cling to the hilt, allowing her body weight to fall with the soldier into the mud.

Hot stickiness coated her body, clinging to her linen shirt as she fell against the Soldier’s armor. The collision, along with the clash of hot and cold left her nerves caught between tingling and prickling in confused agony. Breath was banished from her lungs. For several seconds, the world was nothing but too much. So many sounds and feelings, a blur she couldn’t make sense of. Groaning, she forced herself to lift her head, to survey the battlefield, to make sense of what she saw.

The pink figure of Altea dancing across the battlefield, staff in hand as she yelled spell after spell at the dwindling enemy forces. The dashes of green as Isuel masterfully wove around the edges, his arm moving as a blur as he unleashed a volley of arrows to match a battalion with lethal accuracy. A dark shadow melting high and low as Searys unleashed his demonic strength upon any who drew close, indifferent to the fact they were covered in steel as his fists left dent after dent. August, a silver knight who lunged in and out, clashing with foes masterfully, cutting them down in waves with the determination of his swings. Then, the blazing red glory of Reiner, leading his Retainers with precise commands as his crossbow sung, ensuring victory every time his finger closed around the trigger.

The realisation that reinforcements had arrived was slow to dawn on Kya, yet not as slow as when she looked down to her hands.

Blood. There was actual blood on her hands, obscuring her pale skin with smears that almost reminded her of soy and chilli sauces mixed together. Then spread thinly over her skin. Had she been wearing her armor, would she have felt that at all? Stupid. She had been so, so stupid! Why hadn’t she anticipated an ambush with everything they knew? She’d been napping, not thinking at all. She’d let everyone down, including herself. If she had just worn her armor, she wouldn’t have to deal with this stickiness. Wouldn’t have to feel the blood on her hands. Wouldn’t have to see…

“O-oh god.”

She couldn’t stop seeing. Her eyes fixated on the man beneath her as she frantically pushed up to her knees, trying to flee the sight. His death had not been something graceful, with lingering peace across gentle lips. Instead, his face was twisted with horror. His lean jaw and full lips were contorted into a forming scream of absolute agony. Deep brown eyes stared listlessly back at the world, lacking the spark of life Kya was so used to seeing in everything. As soot floated down across his face, it gathered on those unblinking eyes, slowly obscuring their colour as Kya watched with a growing horror and a gurgling in her gut.

What had she done? What the actual fuck had she just done?!?

“Kya!” Helena’s voice was the closest to frantic Kya had ever heard, wavering at a higher pitch. A shrill shriek, filled with an immeasurable amount of fear. Fear more than Helena had ever felt. Helena, who had seen hells that rendered a nation extinct. Who had been tortured beyond instinct, to the point she defied the very laws of nature. Helena, who’d begged for death a thousand times over for the horror she’d endured, screeched her worst for Kya. It was a sobering footnote in Kya’s consciousness. She couldn’t hold it, couldn’t even hold herself as she collapsed backwards. Helena was there, skidding through the mud to catch the love of her life. To gather Kya into her chest, greedily pulling the smaller woman into each of her injuries in an effort to keep her there. To protect her. Once again enduring pain in silence. Helena’s desperate hands wrapped around Kya’s jaw, around her tender throat, trying to guide Kya’s gaze to meet her own. Even in her adrenalized state, Helena’s hands remained gentle, cradling Kya as if she might shatter in her palms. Worshipping, despite the chaos surrounding them. When Kya surrendered to that guidance, she found herself falling into pools of obsidian-tinged sapphire, watching the magic swirl and fade as Helena regained control of her emotions.

Helena’s eyes were so beautiful. So alive. The depth of love and need that underlaid every emotion drew Kya in, drowning her an indescribable heat that threatened to consume her if she didn’t look away. The passion there was scorching, eradicating everything save the thick veil of devotion in those lively eyes. The haze was soothing, somewhere she could simply watch from as her body moved with Helena’s gentle touches. That gentleness was not spared for her clothing. Helena’s hands were weapons once more as the Sorceress literally tore Kya’s shirt open, running that one good hand though the blood, searching for the cause. Even as that hand ran, her injured arm cradled Kya’s head, keeping her upright, preventing any chance for fluids to drown the smaller American. Then, she was lifting a vial to Kya’s lips, pressing just a little too roughly, too desperately. Glass bounced against Kya’s teeth in a shaking hand, almost causing pain as she retreated, meanwhile flailing her own hand to reject the vial.

“I’m fine! It's not my blood.” Kya dismissed the tender touch as if it were a normal occurrence, her voice completely casual in her instinctual effort to reassure Helena. The Sorceress stopped, breathing rapidly as her gaze fixated upon Kya’s once again, realisation dawning in icy eyes. Realisation. Understanding. Guilt. Horror. Regret.

What had she done?

“It's not my blood…” the second time it escaped Kya’s lips was bitter, a lowered mumble as her body caught up with the fact. She’d killed someone. No, not just someone. Two someones. She’d taken two lives without any hesitation, without any mercy. They’d tried to take from her and that had been enough for her to mindlessly take those two lives from others. Just like so many had done to her with Helena. What would those lovers care for reasons when their arms were cold and empty? What would daddy’s crimes matter to the little girl waiting for him to come home? What words could soothe a mother missing her baby? What families would get letters saying their brother, father, son or lover had fallen in battle? Was the Queen even merciful enough to have someone notify the families of her dead? Would those families spend years waiting for answers? Never knowing if their loved one would return. Would children wonder what they did for daddy to abandon them? Would…

Kya tore herself away from Helena, falling onto her hands and knees as the pressure in her stomach exploded out her throat, a warm mush that coated the ground between her hands. Mouthful after mouthful of vomit came up, each punctuated by an impossibly loud wretch. It stunk. Everything absolutely stunk. Nothing had prepared her for the strong stench of blood, the almost delicious smell of cooking flesh for a split second before disgusting burning hair.

Soothing fingers ran against Kya’s scalp, gathering up the sweat-soaked raven locks in adoring hands as Kya’s vomit became bile, the contents of her stomach emptied. It left her feeling weak, so weak her body trembled with the effort to hold herself even somewhat aloft from the mud. Everything was covered in a layer of fleece, making everything distant to her senses. Even that distance couldn’t banish the warmth of Helena’s arms as they wrapped around Kya, bringing the exhausted girl into the safety of the Sorceress’ chest. Helena’s arms became her bedrock. As the world crumbled around her, Helena’s strength and comfort held true. She couldn’t find her perverse enjoyment of Helena’s chest, nor relish the powerful flex of muscles. All she could do was find solace of the touch.

“Would that I could spare you this pain.” Helena’s voice was laden with sorrow, weighing her tones down along with Kya’s heart. Even then, Helena’s mind was on comforting as she lifted her own sleeve to Kya’s lips. The Sorceress lovingly cleaned the trails of bile from Kya’s chin, delicately tracing the soft material over quivering flesh. Her brows furrowed in guilt as she leaned closer, resting her forehead to Kya’s in an attempt to dull the pain. To flood the girl with reassurance and acceptance. Neither woman jumped at the tickle of the tip of their noses bumping, though Kya let out the softest groan of protest.

“I stink.”

“The discomfort of your pain is far worse than any fouled breath.” Helena retorted calmly, her voice near a whisper as she leaned closer, forehead to forehead. Kya’s eyes drifted closed, as if she might defy the reality of what she had seen. She couldn’t. It burned behind her eyelids. Lifeless bodies. Blood. Helena’s terrified face when she had first gathered Kya into her arms.

“I…”

“I am here, Kya, for whatever you would ask of me. Please, allow me to bare this with you.

It was the gentleness in Helena’s voice which finally undid Kya. The girl broke, tears streaming down her cheeks as she buried herself within Helena’s embrace. She nuzzled, squirming into the comforting scent of parchment and herbs, of magic, of Helena. By now, Kya had smelt many a mage, many a warrior, yet none were Helena. None could make her heart race and settle simultaneously. She couldn’t help but press her lips under Helena’s jaw, to relish the feeling of a fluttery pulse at the gesture. Alive. Helena was alive. She was alive because Kya had acted, had sacrificed morals. If she hadn’t… they’d have done the same. They’d have taken Helena’s life for their Queen not to take theirs.

“I killed people. They were going to kill you, and that should make it easier but…” Kya tried, swallowing back the empty feeling of vomiting. Her throat closed up, tickled and thick at the same time, as if she might gag. As if she might choke on the blood she’d shed.

“I don’t feel sorry I killed them. That’s easy. But their families… the people left behind will suffer when they did nothing wrong.”

“It is the price of war, Kya. If only I could have protected you longer, that you would not endure such a torment now.” Helena sighed, tightening her arms around Kya for a breath before she relaxed, allowed Kya to withdraw a little. Kya’s lips fell open, disbelief etched across her face.

“Don’t. Helena, you cannot take the blame for this. You didn’t attack first or make any of this happen. Existing doesn’t make it your fault.”

“You killed to protect me.” Helena laid it out, her casualness leaving Kya reeling. How could Helena even think that? How could she so calmly blame herself for a choice Kya had so readily made? No. It hadn’t even truly been a choice. Losing Helena was unfathomable. Blaming Helena for such a thing felt like blaming her for the existence of death and pestilence. It was not Helena’s fault, no more than it was that the seasons changed. Yet of course, Helena would claim the blame before it could be laid upon her, or worse, before accountability could slip away. Before she could escape her responsibilities. Helena’s magic allowed her the power to do the unthinkable, to defy nature itself. For her to see Kya suffer, of course she would take it as a personal failure. As something she was meant to prevent. There was that touch of nobility, that spark of absorbing every problem and taking blame.

“Yes.” Kya agreed, nodding before she continued.

“That doesn’t make it your fault, Helena. You never asked me to fight, you did not force me to act. They hurt you! They were going to kill you, Helena, and I just… I had to protect you, no matter the cost. Just like you’ve always protected me. That does not make it your fault.” Kya had to take a breath. Gods, Kya loved her. She loved this noble woman so much it hurt… but curses if it didn’t frustrate her. If she didn’t want to cut down everyone who’d beaten Helena into this place. Who’d taken her nobility and weaponised it into self-sacrificing tendencies. Kya could only lift a hand to Helena’s cheek, a silent rebuttal to Helena’s brewing guilt. Something she’d soon find the words to address in-depth, once her own agony dulled, once her tongue wasn’t so heavy in her mouth. Kya stared into those deep blue eyes, lost in what she saw there. Helena understood. She understood too perfectly, even without more words exchanged. It was the price being so close to her she’d constantly warned Kya of.

“I didn’t think of any of it. I just killed when you were in danger. So many people might have moral reasons to kill you, and if they did, I’d kill them. I couldn’t be moral if you were hurt, Helena. I love you. My reason for killing those who hurt you would be moral, as would their reasons be for hurting you. As would anybody who hurt me as payback. When does it end?” Kya pleaded, looking to Helena for an answer. Violence begets Violence. That had never made as much sense as it did the moment she saw the dullness in Helena’s eyes, the exhaustion. The answer the sorceress didn’t want to give. And why should she be forced to? This cycle had been Helena’s curse since before puberty. Violence to survive, earning violence in return. A currency exchange of flesh and soul. An exchange the Witch Queen had indebted Helena so heavily to that it was doubtful she’d ever escape again. That she’d ever be truly free so long as she walked this world.

Helena could only give a sad curl of her lips, a silent expression of utter helplessness even as she pulled Kya back into her embrace, as if her arms might shield Kya from these harshest of truths. As if the world might take pause from its corruption of the tender soul cradled so close to a sullied, blackened heart.

Silently, Kya allowed her head to fall to Helena’s shoulder once more, relishing the closeness. The life. The moment of stillness. She understood now, why Helena had been so fearful, so guilt-ridden for her feelings. For her affections. Not for feeling, but for the burden such things rested upon Kya’s shoulders. It was enough to almost make Kya cry again. Here Helena was, pleading to take a burden that she’d shouldered alone for so long. A burden Kya found herself willing to carry. Able to. She had to.

There was no going back, no button to undo her actions. To rewind and alter history. The innocence Helena had fought to preserve was gone.

It was as the Sorceress said. Such was the price of war.

[missturtleduck]

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt. 8

Part Seven│Part Nine

“You, girl of secrets, may stay.”

The library was surprisingly easy to find, considering it was buried under centuries of sand. Watching Toph siphon it up as smoothly as Katara could shape water, Y/N stood pointedly ignoring Sokka and Professor Zei rambling to each other. Sure, she was as much of a nerd as they were, what with learning languages and arithmetic from a young age, but it wasn’t like she was about to drop Sokka’s attitude and divulge in ancient secrets with them. 

They did sound like pretty cool ancient secrets though.

Trying not to pout, Y/N sighed and began to scale the tower freehand. Was it to spite Sokka, who had just thrown a grapple to the top window? Perhaps. Only beaten by Aang, who had the power of airbending on his side, Y/N sat on the ledge of the window, staring down at Toph, Appa, and Qin.

“You sure you’ll be alright, Toph?” She called down to her friend, who had a firm hand on Qin’s back.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Toph brushed her off. “Like I said, books don’t do it for me.”

With a nod, Y/N readied to descend. “Send Qin in after us if you get in trouble.”

Satisfied that Toph would be okay, she leapt from the window, Aang catching her in a swirl of air. It was fun, almost like jumping onto a bed laden with pillows, although she never remembered jumping on her auntie’s bed to ever be that dangerous. The inside of the tower was beautiful, even Y/N had to admit in her bad mood, decorated with mosaic depictions of owl, glittering dark onyx and blues as the sun filtered through the cracks in the old brick. Three guesses on what form the spirit of the library took, Y/N chuckled to herself.

Rustling interrupted her admiration as she pulled the nearest person behind a great pillar. Peering around it, she held the person close to her chest, listening for any signs of movement, praying to Agni that it was just one of those cute fox spirits.

“I know you’re back there,” A voice said, menacing and low, leaving goosebumps up her arms; it was pure adrenaline, a fight or flight reaction.

Eyes wide, she went to hiss at Professor Zei, who had stepped out from behind the pillar. A hand clamped over her mouth – Sokka. Nose wrinkled in disdain, Y/N fought the urge to lick his hand then and there, grossing him out enough to reveal him too. Maybe the owl spirit would keep him as a pet.

“Hello!” Zei said, the word Y/N had been stuck on finally coming to her head: naïve. “I am Professor Zei, Head of Anthropology at Ba Sing Se University!”

The avian monster leered down over the professor, who seemed unfazed in his thirst for knowledge. “You would leave the way you came, unless you want to become a stuffed head of anthropology.”

As much as she disliked the man, she wouldn’t let him die. Pushing off of Sokka’s chest, not thinking about how he felt under her palms and pressed that close in the moment, Y/N rushed forwards, bowing lowly. “Oh, great spirit!  Are you the magnificent one who brought all of this knowledge into the physical world?”

“Indeed,” The spirit said, a tad less malicious than before. “I am Wan Shi Tong, ‘He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things’.”

“Oh, how marvellous!” Y/N exclaimed, coming out of her bow to look at Wan Shi Tong with as much respect and as little fear possible. “To grant the physical world, the world of humans with such a resource! You are far too benevolent.”

The spirit peered its head up as Sokka, Katara, and Aang came out of their hiding place. “Yes, and you are obviously humans, which, by the way, are no longer permitted in my library.”

“What do you have against humans?” Aang blurted out, not unkindly, but with a lack of respect that made Y/N cringe; surprisingly, she had no intention of being eaten by a giant owl spirit!

“Hmph!” Wan Shi Tong sneered, standing tall to look down on them all. 

“Humans only seek knowledge to get an edge on other humans, like that firebender who came to this place a few years ago seeking to destroy his enemy. So, who are you seeking to destroy?”

“What?” Sokka said, stretching the vowel too long to be anything but suspicious. “No-no-no-no destroying of anyone! We’re not into that.”

Wan Shi Tong blinked with his great, owlish eyes. “Then why have you come here?”

“Um... knowledge for knowledge’s sake?”

His shadow loomed over the boy. “If you’re going to lie to an all-knowing spirit, you should at least at some effort into it.”

This was it then. Y/N steeled herself, ready to see Sokka eaten in front of her. He’d be sorely missed of course, the git, but what happens had to happen, right? Although, what would happen to the rest of them if he was eaten? Would they be resigned to the same fate? She knew Katara would never forgive herself, that Professor Zei would manage to turn Sokka into some sort of parable – a caricature of the person he truly was. Eyes widening at her sudden epiphanies, Y/N darted in front of the men making fools of themselves, offering her bō staff out in a low bow.

“Please forgive the indiscretion of my idiot companion,” She grovelled, ecstatic at the jibe she managed to fit in. “I offer one more bit of knowledge to your vast collection, if you’ll have it.”

Reaching with one fluid motion, the spirit practically absorbed the staff. “You, girl of secrets, may stay.”

Wan Shi Tong looked amongst the group, expectant. One by one, each of them gave away something precious; a scroll, a tome, and a poster were added to his collection. But what of Sokka? A special knot was offered with a grin.

“You’re not very bright, are you?” The spirit blanched, enough sarcasm to match the boy himself. “Enjoy the library.”

Flourishing out of sight, Y/N pushed down a snort, “He’s dramatic for a spirit.”

Falling back to walk with Katara, she allowed herself to breath in the atmosphere of such a grand place. Every tome had collected dust over what must have been centuries; it felt wrong, sinful, to touch them, let alone peruse through its words. This seemed to be a shared opinion of Katara, who avoided picking up every tome that seemed mildly interesting.

Aang and Sokka, however, were picking up works because they fancied the colour.

“Hey, look at these weird lion turtle things!” Aang said, shoving a scroll in their faces.

“Eh,” Sokka waved his hand, “I’ve seen weirder.”

Deeper into the library they ventured, the hallways growing darker and the tomes growing dustier –  rarer – as they went along. Though, maybe it wasn’t dust. All colour flushed from Y/N’s skin as she saw the room marred with burn marks and ashes. A firebender had done this. They had committed an atrocity she didn’t think possible. This was the human that the spirit had so spitefully told them about.

“They destroyed everything to do with the Fire Nation,” Katara gasped.

That’s what they do, Y//N thought bitterly.

Taking a seat in the remains of such precious knowledge, Y/N watched with some amusement as her friends chased after a Knowledge Seeker. The little fox led them away swiftly, and what they may find could be vital, but she couldn’t bring herself to follow. Something about the room they had discovered made her stomach turn, waves of guilt rolling continuously, growing greater and more violent until she wanted to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, looking up to see the owl spirit stood over her. “I’m sorry on behalf of the evil person who did this.”

The spirit considered for a moment. “Would you indulge me with a secret? I find secrets to be the greatest knowledge of all.”

“Will it compensate you for the damage?”

“Not entirely,” Wa Shi Tong admitted, not nearly as menacing as he had been, “But enough for forgiveness,”

And so she spoke. She indulged the spirit in every secret she had in her soul, feeling lighter and lighter as every one left her lips. Y/N told him of the family she had lost, her lineage, her first crush, her greatest rebellion against her uncle. How much value could be put on her secrets, she wondered.

She didn’t wonder for long as a Knowledge Seeker came running up to them on four legs, propping itself to two as it communicated silently with its master. She wondered if the value of her secrets could pay the spirit for the insult that was just delivered to him. With a final look at Y/N, the spirit swept away with all the rage of a warrior.

It was when the ground began to shake that Y/N realised something was truly wrong.

Exchanging looks with the spirit servant, something that she would’ve never expected to happen, she sprinted out of the room. Following the creature, it led her through the maze of bookshelves until she recognised where they were. Back at the beginning, the fox gave a frantic little bow before scurrying away. With the open window filtering light, Y/N heard the desperate cries of Appa, Qin, and Toph. 

Panicked and determined, Y/N clambered onto the bannister that prevented patrons tumbling into the abyss of tomes. It was instant death, she noted, but she needed to get to the rope hanging from the tower. Inhaling a sharp breath, she leapt across, hands burning as she struggled for a grip. Darting her eyes back to the library, she spotted the spirit tormenting her friends and the professor.

“Oh, great spirit!” She called to him, shimmying her way up the rope. “Let me be proof that not all humans carry evil, even if you cannot see it yet.”

The rage he carried was chilling.

“I’m coming Toph!”

The wails had subsided since, Appa now silenced above her. Making quick work of the rope – darting ever downwards to ensure her friends were safe – Y/N clambered through the window, narrowly avoiding Toph. Qin caught her with her tail, groaning lowly, wincing. A gash was open on her back, creating a storm of blind rage within her. Appa, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Despite what she may have said afterwards, Toph was crying. With all of her strength, she was preventing the spirit from killing them all. Once Katara, Sokka, and Aang leapt out onto the sand, Y/N made quick work of pulling Toph into a tight hug, whispering apologies over and over again until the words merged into numbness. Any spite she may have felt only hours ago had dissipated as quickly as it came. Y/N had hit her limit.

TAGLIST: @lunariasilver​ @maragreene​

[sp00kworm]

A Den of Iniquity (Part 2)

Pairing: Dracula/Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes x Female Reader

Warnings: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore, Injuries and Violence.

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Part 1    Part 3    Part 4   Part 5 

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Sleeping wasn’t exactly what Dracula did. He remembered sleeping. It was a warm embrace with something that proved restful and fulfilling. As the creature he was now, it was silent, a quiet rest with blackness yet no peace. He did not dream delights anymore, at least not like when he was human. The dreams were rarely joyous or fulfilling. As a young man he could remember waking with Elisabeta on his mind and the hardness between his legs. Those days were gone. The dreams of her he had now revolved around her death. A bloodied face haunted his memories along with the twisted nightmare of her burning away, her face rotting into the mud as she reached for him. In the nightmare he could never reach her before she dissolved into ash and smoke. Other dreams were of dying faces or fire on the battlefield. His nightmares haunted him often, but most of the time the daylight made his mind silent, his eyes closed but his brain aware of the passage of time as it slowly ticked by around him. This morning, however, his brain was rife with activity as he listened to the bin men take the household rubbish from his drive. The rubbish lorry thundered as it emptied the bins, men shouting before it moved on down the hill.

 Dracula closed his eyes inside his resting place, pushing his fingers deeper into the soil from his homeland as he turned his chin upwards, towards the wooden floorboards over his head. The vampire gurgled, blood churning in the spittle of his throat as he found some respite from the noise in the world around him. This time, the dreams were odd. He felt the noise outside melt away as his chest froze, mouth open in pause as death held his muscles still and taut. As the world outside disappeared, a new one appeared before his eyes. He awoke with a gasp, the bright white light blinding to his eyes as he fell to his knees. The vampire gasped at the sunlight, covering his eyes with one hand, the other burying itself into the sand beneath him. Dust stained the knees of his dark trousers, his shirt billowing with the hot wind. He looked down at the sand through squinted eyes and held a handful of the pure white dust. Dark, curly hair obscured his view as the wind blew again, blowing the sand from his grasp as the heat burned every inch of his skin. It was oppressive. Dracula reached for his shirt and stumbled to his feet, only to realise that he was barefoot, his toes sinking in the hot, white sand as he took a step. It was like walking on hot coals, as he headed forwards, towards the searing sun.

 Dracula watched as his skin blistered. There was no respite from the sun in the barren lands. He pulled himself on through the sand, as long as he could, before collapsing to his knees, breathing hard, panting for air he did not need in the bright white light. The sand stuck to his eyelashes and was gritty against his scalp as the wind whipped more of the white granules into his hair. With a snarl, he tugged his hair away from his face and peered back at the desert. Before him stood a woman clad in black silk. The dress billowed in a giant, night coloured wave, and floated above the sand with ethereal grace as she took a step towards him. A crown of sparkling gold sat on top of her head, yet her face was masked with a thick black veil. Nothing was visible except the outline of a nose. He peered at the figure and watched the crown, set with deep red rubies, sparkle brilliantly. Another step revealed a leg. His eyes caught the sight of naked skin and he reached a hand forwards in the white sand to snatch at it. A snaked hissed from underneath her dress. It’s pointed nose snapped towards him. It flickered a black tongue at his hand before it opened its mouth and hissed, spit clinging between huge fangs before it began its ascent upwards, curling in ribbons of green around the woman. Green scales glittered like jewels against the black silk as it weaved its way upwards, coiling around flesh tightly. It dipped around her waist and hissed again, laying its head on her shoulder. Lace covered fingers stroked at the head of the giant snake before it moved to rest its head in her crown, black eyes watching Dracula in the sand.

 The faceless queen didn’t move. She stood, like a statue, stroking the green scales of her snake. In a sudden movement, she turned, silk billowing around her bare feet as she walked in the sand.

“Who are you?!” He howled into the dust as it blew, choking him and making him scrape at his eyes. She didn’t reply to him as he peered back at the blistering sun, protected from the heat in her shadow. He opened his red eyes, shaking in the sand as he blinked his vision clear. The snake dipped beneath her shoulder before he drew back in fear, watching as the sun was blocked, feathered shadows exploding from her figure. She turned again and stepped to the side, coiling her great snake around her arms as the shedding wings shuddered, feathers drifting down into the sand before the three pairs of grey wings spread wide over his body. They blocked the sun and shook once more before eyes opened behind curtains of feathers. The grey feathers parted as a myriad of rainbow eyes rolled in their sockets, gazing at him. The hunched figure hissed behind them.

“Not you.” He cursed as he pushed himself back in the sand, a great snarl escaping his lips, “What is the meaning of this? You cannot have me yet!”

The figure creaked as it stood before laying its hands on the Queen, clad in black. The snake struck at the bone hands, squeezing her neck in protective coils as the winged creature laughed, a hollow noise echoing off stone walls.

 Bone hands stretched from tattered sleeves, wrapping around the woman, wings draping over her as Death teased the end of the veil. A million eyes peered at him from the darkness of the hood, twirling in their own orbits and shifting in the darkness before the creature pulled the veil upwards. Dracula flinched from the sight, his hand held up as he hid behind the curtain of his hair, staring back into the white dunes of sand.

“Look then, Dracul. Look, beast that defies Death, and see what I have offered.” Death’s voice came from behind his ears, a whisper on the sandy winds. The vampire turned his head slowly, not daring to peer at the image of the reaper before him. He avoided the thousands of eyes as he peered into the shadowed face. Darkness eclipsed them as he peered at what was behind the veil. His focus was drawn in as he pushed himself to his feet, hobbling to take her shoulders from Death’s grip. The veil rippled over his head, surrounding them as he looked into the nothing. As he shifted his gaze, he felt the jade snake wrap around his shoulders, binding them together with a snarl, fangs sinking into his arm as the darkness swirled and fangs snapped towards his own face from the void.

 Dracula slammed his hands against the wooden floorboards in his shock, jolting awake, throwing soil over his mouth and chest as he beat the floorboards with a howl. Red eyes burned from the darkness as he took a gasping breath he didn’t need and looked around the hole he was in. He was alone.  With a violent curse in Romanian he felt along the board and pushed it upwards enough to escape his hole, crawling from the dirty resting place. The dirt fell down his shirt as he peeled back the curtains to gaze outside. It was dark now, the sun having just set, the stars not yet twinkling in the sky. He was alone. Death’s words rang in his mind as he remembered the bloodied vampire fangs snapping towards his face and the snake’s paralysing bite in his arm. Black eyes and green scales flashed behind his eyes as he closed them, and with a growl, he threw the curtains back closed and turned to shed his comfortable sleeping clothes in favour or something more worthy of going out in. Death did not scare him, he told himself as he turned the shower on.

 Not long after the party, and you were, once again, looking at the displays in the shop, wondering about the appointment you had arranged with Vladimir Székely. He’d sent an email the day after the party with times and dates he was available. Tomorrow was your meeting with the owner of Dracula’s Blood. The email was professional and concise, none of the flirtatious charm you’d seen at the party, but, you reasoned, that was exactly it. It was a professional meeting. Nothing more. You looked at the wine display and grumbled. It would have to do until you could get something more interesting for passers-by. Tourists would love something gimmicky. You had the London liquor display, but it was only so attractive next to the Italian wines. With a tap to your phone, you opened the online page you ran, looking through the small forum side as you set up an announcement about new stock.

 The address lead to a small office block by the banks of the River Thames. The river, at least at this time of year, didn’t smell particularly foul. You looked at the building and back to your phone before walking into the small reception room. The elevator had the names of the assigned floors to businesses and you spotted Dracula’s Blood before moving into the lift and pressing the floor’s button. It was a quiet ride upwards, the sun beginning to set on the horizon as you stepped onto the floor now rented by Vladimir.

“Ah! Hello!” The secretary rushed over to greet you, her tablet clutched in her hand, her bright, red dyed hair bundled up in a fashionable bouffant, clipped and shined in perfection, “Welcome to Dracula’s Blood Offices. I’m Miss Westenra, Vladimir’s secretary.” She offered her hand for you to shake.

“It is lovely to meet you.” You offered a smile as you rearranged your coat and bag in your hand.

“He’s just finishing up a small appointment at the moment, but he won’t run too late, I assure you.” She walked you to a small waiting room where a coat hook sat, “I’ve let him know you’ve arrived. He’ll be through to collect you shortly.” Miss Westenra promised as you hung your coat and sat down in a chair, your bag sat in your lap.

 Vladimir dismissed his appointment with a pinch to his nose, trying to soothe a phantom ache he knew he could not feel. His head pounded and he drew the blinds behind himself. The sun was beginning to irritate him. In the shadows of his office he soothed his head before rapping his fingers along his desk and standing, fixing his red tie before he dared to open the door.

“Ah, my friend.” He opened his arms in good nature, open and kind, before taking your hand, pressing a small kiss to the back of it before he drew back, “It feels like too long has passed. Welcome. Please, enter, enter.” He opened the door to his office, “Come freely. Go safely; and leave some of the happiness you bring.” The man joked as he let you pass him by, closing the door after you, “I apologise for the darkness,” Vladimir gestured to the blinds, “I’m suffering with a headache, you see. The light is not good for my eyes.” He pulled out the chair and smiled as you sat in it, pushing his dark hair from his shoulders before he sat himself down in his large, leather armchair.

“Thank you for offering me this appointment, Mister Székely.” You opened your bag to pull out your own notebook, your notes carefully written out of his sight-line.

“Please,” Vladimir smiled, sharp teeth on display in a billionaire smile, “Call me Vladimir.”

 “Well, Vladimir, I’m still happy for this opportunity. As you know, I’m very interested in your products.”

Vladimir nodded and clicked a few things on his computer, the screens flashing bright. He reached to turn the brightness down on them before replying, “As am I. I believe that supplying your shop would do wonders for my business. Not only would it improve the accessibility, but it would support a local business. I like that idea.”

You watched his face for signs of a lie, “Would it now?” With a brief shuffle of your papers you moved to lay a price sheet over his side of the table, outlining the prices you had agreed with other companies similar to his own, “As you can tell, I’m open to discussion with pricing but…” You leaned towards the dark man, “I won’t be taken for a fool. I know what your product is worth, Vlad.”

Dracula felt his blood boil at the impudence, yet his gut twisted for another taste of the power in your eyes and to challenge it with his own, “You are a fine negotiator.” He observed the prices with a tip of his head, “Never before have I seen such…well, beneficial prices.”

“Well, I aim to impress.” You joked as you gently took the prices back from his manicured nails, “Even if you should be the one impressing me.”

 A cascade of chuckles escaped Vladimir as he leaned back in his great office chair and looked at the screens before him. The vampire felt his gums burn behind the small smile he managed to curl onto his pale face. It was torture. His stomach churned and everything burned with the intense ache to feed. To consume the one thing that he knew he could. He watched your blood thump in your neck for a moment before he tapped his nails against the desk. One wave of taps turned into two, and then a third before Vladimir opened his palms to you.

“Then perhaps I can propose a favourable deal?” He reached for his own journals and pulled free a few sheets of paper, “I have prepared a couple of supplier contracts in advance with varying conditions of sale.” With a lick to his finger, he peeled the first offer free and waited, his others hidden behind his linked hands.

“I don’t believe I’m willing to offer shares in my shop, Mister Székely.” You placed the paper back on his side of the desk and smiled, “The option of my webstore, however, I am willing to negotiate that.”

Inside, the beast purred, watching as you took the bait for his little scheme. The monster purred deep in his chest, silent yet as he smiled with a human face, “I believe that is something I can arrange with you.”

 A crate of every variety of brandy and rum, a casket of Vladimir’s suggested wine and a dedicated page on your website was not much of an asking for the price you’d been given. A lot of supply for now, and, in comparison, a small price tag attached. You looked at your signed contracts and traced the jittery cursive of his name.

“Get better soon, Mister Székely.” You offered back at the building before heading towards the underground.

 Vladimir watched through the window as you left, his throat burning, before the sun was too oppressive, and the vampire recoiled back behind the blinds. In the shadows of his office, he touched his burning skin, yet felt only ice underneath his fingertips. He pushed a claw to the intercom.

“Miss Westenra.” He uttered behind sharpening teeth.

“Yes, Mister Székely?” She replied, her fingers moving across the keyboard at lightning speeds, the tapping echoing in the microphone.

“You are dismissed.” He let the intercom go silent.

“Goodnight then, Sir.” She said before moving to finish the last of his emails and leaving through the elevator. He listened to the clicking of her red heels grow quieter and sighed as he tore the shirt from his back, peering at his own skin as it grew paler and paler, leathery yet paper thin, cold, dead veins leering at him from his arms as he saw fit to toss his stack of papers to the floor. His hair dripped from his scalp in great swathes of brown as wings erupted from his back and his mouth tore at the seams. He lashed at the air before watching the area around the office blinds, waiting for darkness to eclipse the world outside. The nights sky eventually rolled over and the vampire snarled as he tore open the blinds and burst into the night air with a flap of his wings, fangs bared at the moon as hunger burned behind his tongue.

 The bat like monster descended on the streets beneath an underpass, wings snapping before claws scraped along the tarmac, sending pebbles and dust flying as Dracula inhaled, smelling the retched air of London. Piss and stale, sour water. He peered at the bridge over his head and stalked towards the sour bodies laid, wrapped in thick blankets, shuddering against the cold and rain. Dracula grasped the two bodies from their sleeping bags and felt his jaw unhinge with a great howl at their faces. The man and the woman cowered before the woman reached to lash at his face. Her nails grazed his leathery skin but did no damage.

“What the fuck?!” The male screeched as he was released, scuttering backwards towards the wall of the bridge, stained with soot from pollution.

“Let go of me!” The woman shouted before Dracula’s sharp teeth peeled open her throat with a spray of blood. The spray speckled his cheeks as she gurgled, her hands falling limp over his shoulders before he turned on the male and snatched him from the pavement, fangs opening a great hole in his throat as he snarled and continued to drink his fill, smearing blood over his chin and cheeks. The blood tasted thin and weak, but two provided him with enough sustenance to replace the three days of starvation he had put himself through.

 The cold bodies were great, dead weights under his arms as he carried them towards the woods around Buckingham’s Estate. Dracula flashed fangs at the sky before he dropped the bodies into the lake, watching them fall like sacks of potatoes before splashing in the water. The birds squawked awake, but he heard no other noise as he soared back into the sky and escaped beyond the clouds, the wind drying the blood that had congealed on his chest. The night was fresh and clean beyond the clouds, and Dracula breathed, a deep lungful of air he didn’t require. The night air gave him more than it could for any person. Smells of the city churned along his palette before the beast was drawn to other urges. A familiar smell. Burned spices and wooden crates. You. His burning eyes were turned in the darkness to the buildings below, and he swooped low with a snarl before bursting into a violent spray of mist. As a low fog, he trailed over the roofs of many homes, coiling over old pottery, and hanging guttering as he drifted his way downwards. The shop was beneath your apartment and the fog descended past the windows and towards the streetlamp. The black steel proved enough of a vantage point for him to watch from, fog coalescing into a heavy mist, red eyes leering from within the blackness as your body passed his gaze, and then back again, a black cat clutched in your arms as you span to a song he didn’t know.

 The beast yowled, unfriendly and upset, until you released it to sit on the windowsill. The great black cat swished its tail before sitting, coiling the appendage around itself as it investigated the street below. Bright, smart yellow eyes looked at him, seeing his nature through the fog and darkness. With a smile from within the fog, he drifted down the lamppost and taunted the pet, stepping into the lamplight as a great hound, black fur bristling as it barked, a great thunderous noise from the tarmac. The cat yowled, claws against the glass as its own fur bristled, answering the cry as it danced back and forth against the windowpane. A consort of the devil. Cats were, in their nature, beasts of protection. Its protective gaze branded him with burning contempt and rage. You were that beast’s territory. It warded against the dark, as its kind had done since the burning of the witches in his own time. Dracula stepped back into the inky tarmac and melted into shadow as you reached for the spitting cat, peering into the gloom to try and see what had upset it so violently. His wolfish snout raised from the shadow before he bounded away from your little shop, howling at the moon, delighted in the prospect of discovering just what you were to him.  

 “Come on, Drac.” You cooed at your bristled tom cat, “Something just feels off about tonight.” You snapped the window shut and ushered the cat inside before looking at the streetlamp with one last curious stare.  Darkness and yellow light looked back. You shuddered at the howl of some giant dog and tutted as you sat back down in your small couch, fingers easing down Drac’s spikey fur.

 ‘Two found dead in Buckingham Palace Gardens.’

‘Pound dogs driven insane. Outbreak of rabies with an unknown cause.’

‘Localised storm leaves Greenwich without power for five hours’

You rolled your eyes and slapped the newspaper back against the countertop in your flat above the shop. The toast was suddenly unappealing as you caught a glimpse of the bodies pulled out of the lake and you finished the slice quickly before dusting crumbs from your fingers and standing to put the breakfast plate in the sink. You rinsed the crumbs away and grabbed a pouch of food for Drac.

“Yeah, I know you, greedy monster.” You laughed as you squeezed the packet of food into his bowl, leaving the cat in peace as you wrestled your keys from the door and locked up, phone and laptop in hand. You intended to hold up your end of the bargain with Vladimir Székely. Creating a page with his listed products and website links on your own shop page wouldn’t take too long and you didn’t expect a very busy day with the thundering rain jumping from the floor outside.

 ‘Dracula’s Blood. Devilish brewing from the heart of Transylvania. This selection of rum, brandy and wines will have you looking over your shoulder at night! Grab your garlic and stakes!’

 The tag line was suitable, and you smiled behind your hot drink as rain continued to lash outside, the window thumping occasionally with the mix of rain and icy hail. With a hum, you looked at the delivered stock behind your counter and back at the listed products before finding the email links Vladimir’s secretary, Miss Westenra, had sent you. There was a link to a small website which could be used to order the products directly from Vladimir’s warehouses in Transylvania. From what you could tell he was in the process of setting up brewing and distribution centres in the United Kingdom to cater a bit more easily to certain demands. You clicked the ‘About’ page and scrolled a little bit before coming to a video titled ‘The Brewery Bowels’. Curious, you clicked play, and watched as the video loaded with rapt attention.

 A dark room was shown by torchlight. The man was speaking in very fast Romanian, which was thankfully, translated, at the bottom of the video.

“This is where the rum and brandy are matured for a number of years in wooden, Transylvanian barrels.” He walked around the room, showcasing the cases of non-labelled rum and brandy before turning and patting the great stone tomb in the centre of the room. The stone thudded dully with the movement and the man continued to talk about the castle, “This is the great ruins of the legendary Castle Dracula, where the man or vampire was said to have live.” He announced before a great thunderous crash sounded behind them. The narrator and the cameraman shrieked in surprise before the lens focused on the tomb in the middle of the room. The stone had slid away. A  clawed hand appeared from within the tomb, twisting and twitching as it reached for the side of the stone.

“Jesus Christ! Turn the camera off you fucking idiot!” A hiss sounded, “Run! Run you idiot!” A shadow darted from the tomb behind the narrator before a scream sounded and the camera fell into the mud. The recording buzzed with the broken noises of the camera. Bloodied feet walked past the lens before it was smashed with a great bang.

 You frowned at the video before looking at the comments and other writing on the page. It was called a hoax and a cheesy branding gag. You had to agree with them all. It was still in poor taste either way, and you closed the video before moving back to the crates of alcohol you now had in stock. You looked at the window display and smiled as you set to work laying out the new, expensive bottles of Transylvanian liquor on the stands. You followed up with some shredded red paper around the small crate display and hung a bat from the ceiling before laying a prop blood bag over the top. It was almost Halloween anyway; it wouldn’t matter all that much. If anything, it would be one less thing to change when the holiday did roll around. Taking a step back, you admired your hard work and nodded at the new display of expensive alcohol with admiration. It wasn’t a bad job if you did say so yourself. With a sigh, you looked outside at the pouring rain and took your bits of left-over display supplies back to the counter, tucking them underneath in the basket before tidying up stray pieces of shredded paper.

 A boom of thunder made you jump. You were placing the last of the stock into the cubby holes when the weather took an even worse turn. You touched the corks on the bottles before hearing a barking whine from outside the door. A great black dog smacked its mucky paw against the window. It was a huge thing, the paw the size of your own hand nearly. It whined and slapped at the door again, streaking mud down the glass. You watched it continue to bark and whine before giving in and rushing upstairs to get a towel for the creature. You returned and watched the beast eye you as you headed to the door. You pulled the heavy door open and watched the hound step inside cautiously, tail and body low to the ground. Black hair bristled before you shushed it and gently laid the towel over its back. It seemed okay with the towel and gently, you began to dry off its fur, rubbing in circles up and down the dog. It was more a wolf, you observed, looking at the size of it, the immense amount of thick, black fur and pointed ears. People had a habit of breeding wolves with dogs nowadays, you reasoned. You rubbed the beast’s tail and whipped back just in time to avoid a snap of teeth. It grumbled at the tug and licked its front teeth, brown eyes burning as you took the towel away and watched it sniff the floor.

 “You can stop here, just until the rain stops.” You scolded. There hadn’t been many customers all day anyway, so it wasn’t like the rogue dog would be doing any harm. It ignored you and moved to lay in the window, fur billowing with the heater as it seemed content to lay and be quiet. You shook your head at the dog but moved to finish typing a few emails and taping packaging for orders. The wolfdog watched you with one eye open as you pottered about the shop, dark eyes trailing after you.

 Dracula licked his wolfish teeth as you leaned over to pet his head, the sight of your neck making his gums burn with the urge for blood. He controlled himself as you laid some beef in front of him. He snubbed the food with a huff before crawling into your lap, his great head pressed into your stomach. The beast was satisfied when your hands brushed over his thick fur, grumbling happily, dark eyes closing with happiness at the attention.

“You’re like the Hound of Baskerville. A giant black wolf dog. I bet you go running around the countryside eating people, don’t you?” You joked as you smoothed your fingers through his dried fur, “Or maybe you’re just a stray?” He grumbled again at your words. The vampire liked the attention. His ego soared before he could control himself as he laid a lick on your hand, tasting sweat and flesh before he laid himself down again comfortably. He’d watched in the rain as you’d set up your display and a childish sense of possessiveness crossed him as he admired his product in your shop. Dracula snuffled at your stomach as he wondered just what about you was so intriguing to him. The power? The snark? Perhaps he was once again drawn to some odd semblance of his dead wife. He peered up and knew she was not you, just as Mina was not her. The vampire closed his eyes again and felt a serene peace wash over his mind. The warmth of your lap sent him off to sleep before he could even wonder why he was so tired.

 The stray was gone when you came back from dinner. The towel you had used to dry the poor thing was also gone.

 Sales both online and in person, of Dracula’s Blood, had gone immensely well. You smiled at the figures on your laptop as you totalled up sales for the month. It was an impressive reception for something so new. It was stylish, tasted good and reasonably priced enough for most people, who were interested in finer liquors, to give it a try. The bell chimed over the door and you smiled up from your laptop at the customer. The dark, tall man entered with a mild look around, before smiling at you. Vladimir Székely bowed his head at you, shaking his dark coat free of the rain after he closed the black umbrella. He was dressed in a simpler outfit than usual. He unbuttoned his coat to reaveal a simple white shirt and black, heavy jeans with heeled, Chelsea boots. His wet hair was tied back in a bun at the back of his neck, tucked underneath his upturned coat collar.

“Good afternoon.” He drawled before hooking his umbrella over his elbow. The wooden heels of his shoes clicked as he swooped towards the cash register.

“Good afternoon, Mister Székely.” You gave him a smile with a raised eyebrow, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Vladimir smiled with thin lips, “I believe I said you could call me Vlad?” He shook his head with a chuckle, “I thought it prudent to pay my favourite client a little visit.” He gestured to the warm wooden structure of your shop, “And I wished to see your store for myself.”

 The owner of Dracula’s Blood walked along the counter, black leather gloves dragging over the surface as he looked at the bottles, pretending he was seeing them for the first time as he headed towards the fresh displays you had set up with his products.

“You might appreciate the window a little more, I think.” You joked as you rested your elbows on the side and watched him walk over to the little hanging bat. The man laughed, a rich and deep noise, before he reached to flick the toy.

He ignored the blood bag and what it reminded of him, and turned back to you with a smile, his umbrella held tight in one hand, “I have to say, I am impressed, my dear.” Vladimir congratulated you as he eyed the drinks behind your head with calculating dark eyes.

“I can recommend you a good bottle of Italian red, if you want?” You turned and plucked the decently priced red wine from the cubby, offering it to him with a smile, “If you’re hosting someone special, I have a few that are a little more expensive.”

Vladimir smiled, gaze running over the neck of the bottle and ever upwards, over the lines of your torso, breast and neck- he drew his gaze away to your face and nodded, “Perhaps we could share one of those more expensive ones this next weekend?”

 Your mouth opened like a fish, and the vampire felt joy in the ability to stun you to speechlessness.

“I can make a reservation?” He offered, “I have heard of these fancy Thai restaurants. I have never tried such food.”

You reached to take the wine back and shook your head, “I don’t think its very professional for me to consider this sort of thing, Vladimir. You are someone I technically work with.”

“Think nothing of it then. I simply wish to thank you for allowing my business to gain a foothold here. I promise, I bear no…lewd intentions.” The lies felt like honey in his mouth. He watched you consider before stroking the side of his dark facial hair with the back of his knuckles, “Perhaps my home would be a better venue? There none can see us.”

You held a more expensive bottle of wine and placed it on the side with a sigh.

He reached for your hand and squeezed the top of it with a flash of a white smile, “I swear to you. It will be purely work related if, that is what you desire?”

His words felt thick and heavy in your ears, yet you nodded once, to clear your head of them, and then again to consolidate the idea, “Fine then. If you can cook something amazing, then I’ll come and grace you with my presence.” You joked as you offered him the more expensive bottle of red, “I think this one is more worthy of such an occasion.”

Vladimir pulled free his bank card and smiled, “Then I will take it.”

[shadowsfascination]

Shadamy swordland AU - part 4

The air was knocked out of Amy’s lungs by his statement and her skin paled, drawing long shadows over her usually cheerful face. Her head began to ache and she rubbed her forehead as if to rub to swirl of emotions inside her away. Shadow on the other hand crossed his arms and legs, a hint of sorrow playing his ruby eyes.

Amy hunched her back and leaned on her hands, eyed Shadow and drew a breath. She intended to speak, but found no words. Instead she watched the light of the flickering candle cast constantly changing shadows on him, the warm tones of its’ flame contrasting with the now chilly atmosphere between them.

Unaware of it Shadow gritted his teeth in distress. At a total loss for words or the slightest idea how to behave in this situation, he chewed his lip and mildly pinched his arms. He couldn’t talk anymore. It was somehow beyond his control and he despised powerless it made him feel. His body froze and the longer the silence lasted, the further the words drifted away from him. Meanwhile his mind became a cacophony of tangled, blurry thoughts.

I have to snap out of this!

Shadow took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tracing the source of the messed up chaos energy in his body and changing it into a state of tranquillity again.

“Amy.”

The sudden renewed confidence in him broke not only the silence, but the seal between them as well. She couldn’t somehow deny his gaze and locked eyes with him, her eyes full of questions and expectations. He took her hands to cover them in his own. They were warmer than she’d expected.

“I cannot explain any of this to you.”

Amy frowned at him in annoyance and backed off to escape his hold, her eyes starting to blaze. A series of angry growls escaped her lips and she clenched fists. Her knuckles made a cracking sound from it.   “Please, oh please tell me you’re joking!”

He blinked twice, innocence and incomprehension written all over his face.

“I’m not. It would be a poor jest.” “You can’t just drop this bomb on me, fall quiet and then not explain any of it!”

She was prepared for a whole lot of it, but this? – she thought to herself. As soon as the thought landed in the conscious part of her mind she labelled herself a fool, questioning what she did expect from him. She knew Shadow… Why did she keep getting so thrown off by his untactile behaviour?

Blood rushed through her veins at high speed, causing a rustle in her ears. There it was again: the unwanted announcement of her bad temper. He’d soon have to deal with it if he didn’t make haste with properly explaining this… mess! At this rate, she still had control over her temper, but that could change in the blink of an eye. “You’re not saying anything yourself either. Although, knowing you, I hardly believe you don’t have any questions. I’m not throwing that in your face, am I?” “Well, can you blame me?!” “A little, yeah. You carry your heart on your tongue. You always know what to say.” “I don’t right now!” “I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to spare my feelings and I don’t care for it.”

“Oh no, Shadow. You’re NOT shifting YOUR responsibility to explain who you actually are to me.” “I’m not.” The pink female whirled around and caught his attention with her fierce turquoise orbs. The warm, yellowish tones of the dancing flame were fighting for precedence with the luminary aqua in her eyes. He could see her hands gesturing, signalling him her upset internal state in the blurry background of his view.

“Then talk.”

“I can’t.” “Blast, Shadow! I can’t believe how incredibly rude you are to me! I’m your girlfriend! You’re keeping so many important things from me…I wonder how you in 300 darn years still achieve to be totally oblivious about how to act polite and chivalrous around a woman!”

“You should know me better than to mistake me for a soft, gooey fool who drops every aspect of his personality when with a woman. I might be a knight, but surely I’m not going to be your imaginary heroic boyfriend. Or always treat you like a queen when you’re being a huge pain in the ass, Amy. If that’s what you want, than better rethink your choices…”

Another of her romantic bubbles burst by another blunt statement, one he made her aware of she had it in the first place. Amy shifted her headstrong gaze to the red, green and blue-checked woolen blankets on the bed. Ignoring him, she distracted herself to follow the lines from the wrinkles on them with her fingers. The raw texture of the wool prickled through her gloves. It was a unpleasant feeling and she wondered how he was able to sleep under them.

“… Besides: I’m sharing my deepest secrets with you! Do you think that’s easy for me? What more could you possibly want?” “I want you to explain who on Mobius you are!” she shouted. “I want you to explain how it’s even possible to be that old? I wanna know what you are. A ghost? Some divine creature? And what about your strange, dark powers and the stone?! Did you have kids in the past? What does this all make you?!” Both their ears fell back, the awkward silence became deafening on them. Amy’s eyes reddened from the upcoming tears and anger. She bit her lip and bravely fought against the waterworks. A few salty tears quietly dripped down her cheeks though. Amy battled the strong tendency to cry once more. She felt so hideous whenever she cried- and she did see herself cry before. She felt she looked awful and so she did her uttermost best to hide it- in comparison to when she was a young girl. “What’s it make us? Just tell me.. something! ANYTHING will do!”

Her loud, hoarse voice cracked and she sniffed. Shadow’s hand squeezed and crinkled the blanket with force. He cursed under his breath.

“I KNOW, OKAY?! I know ANY words will do, but there are no words! NONE! They’re stuck! I don’t mean to be rude or inconsiderate of your feelings. Plagues! If anything, that’s what’s making me freeze up. I have no idea at all how to handle this!”

An upcoming sense of guilt sent a series of shivers down her spine. Her stupid pride and temper pushed him too far. A lump in her throat now accompanied the already present stress-related stomach aches.

“I don’t either… It’s scaring me.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Shadow, I don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back. And don’t tell me I’m not, because I know I am. Sorry about that. Just spill. I’ll learn to deal with it.”

“It’s not just that. I can’t verbalize all this.”

He concentrated on the chaos energy in his body once more, shards of them whirling around like a hive of bees. They seemed impossible to catch. His focus shifted to his irregular, high paced breathing and he breathed out some of the stress in his body. The shards immediately lowered their impossible-to-follow rhythm and he was finally able to catch some of them.

I never lose my confidence.

With a certain determination Shadow grasped her gloved hands. They were tensely folded into fists. Their touch revealed the quivers they were both trying to control. Shadow suddenly scooped her onto his lap and then rose to carry her bridal style, all much to Amy’s confusion.

“However, I can show you.”

His signature self-sufficient smile now curved his lips.

“Come on, I’ll carry you. I know how much you love this romance-stuff and I am a knight after all.” He blew out the candle, letting the darkness swallow them entirely before calling out the ‘Chaos control’. With this single chant he overcame the barrier of space and time. The darkness around them swiftly faded into a serene surrounding, filled with flowy, intertwining ruby, royal blue, shiny silver and regal gold ribbons of light.

They weightlessly soared through the pacifying, outstretching void. A sea of glowing orbs laid ahead of them and with confidence. Shadow commanded some of them to come closer, each carrying a memory. He let some fragments play out before her eyes to see for herself what happened in his past, for he was unable to tell her.

It was all there, right before Amy’s eyes: the mystery of what he was, his unknown origin and lonesome existence by surviving everyone he’d ever cared for in the past. He had roamed around the planet for years and years in order to keep his immortality a secret.

There was also a set of painful memories in which he was fighting, on the run or hiding for the many different faces of danger. They were a tad blurry and she couldn’t quite capture the meaning of it. The memory of the unknown hero neared and she witnessed his amazing powers, bravery and strength. It replaced her unsettling state of being with much softer feelings, easing her temper away. Amy smiled when concluded to herself that neither his physics or personality had seemed to change. The Shadow she knew now was as stubborn, blunt, socially awkward, dedicated, loyal and brave as in his past. Without having to verbalize he answered everything she wanted to know and more. Amy’s sweet, caring nature calmed her temper and she empathized with Shadow. She felt for the challenges his long life had brought upon him and pulled him into a deep, consoling hug.

“Shadow, I’m sorry I pushed you. I misjudged and jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

The scenery of his bedroom slowly faded in again and Shadow gently put her down. He lit the candle again. A shameful blush coloured his cheeks and played his eyes. His ears drooped backwards. Shadow felt like he was stripped to the bone. “I know everyone thinks I excel in many things, but communicating my inner state isn’t one of them. It heaves me down whenever I… feel strongly about something. Actions speak louder than a thousand words to me.”

“Thank you for being honest with me, for showing me all this. I imagine it must’ve been hard on you. You seemed so lonesome all these years.”

Hiding his face in his hands, he stared without focal point in his gaze. Shadow broke down internally, forcefully biting the insides of his lips to prevent him from crying like an infant.

“You’ve seen it for yourself now. You’ve seen me fight…My past…It’s the most private thing that I carry with me.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden all by yourself.” “You’re the very first to learn about it.”

“I already assumed I was, given your struggle to share it with me. I’m glad you told me.”

Amy smiled, trying to lighten up the mood again. “It’s awful and humiliating to share. I even killed in the past. I can’t help but feel like a monster sometimes. It haunts me.”

“You’re a knight. There’s times where you’re left no other choice than to eliminate your enemies. If anything, you’re a hero, Shadow.”

“I’m not! You weren’t there! Y-you d-d-don’t…You don’t know…”

He whimpered almost inaudibly while his shaking body sank into her embrace. Amy petted his back and caressed his quills while he hid his face in her chest. She cupped his tear-stained muzzle and made him look her in the eye. When his red, bloodshot eyes met her aqua ones they showed the strong-minded, yet hopelessly emotional Amy Rose Shadow had fallen for.

“There’s still so much that I don’t understand, but my emotional compass tells me you’re reliable and trustworthy. I’d like to believe you must’ve had your reasons… Tell me whenever you’re ready.”

She let herself fall back on the bed and pulled Shadow onto her, snuggling up to him under the prickly woolen blankets. On any other night the knight would’ve protested and let his self-discipline never allow her to stay over, but they were exhausted. Shadow and Amy couldn’t battle their minds anymore and forgot about the possible consequences they’d have to deal with in the morning. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. None of it. Even though their minds were loaded with troubles, which usually would’ve kept them awake, it somehow did not tonight.

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I struggled with this chapter. I’ll try to make the next one more uplifting (: Sometimes it seems to me that neither of these two dorks know a single thing about relationships, yet they have so much love to give to one another. 

I’d appreciate if you share your thoughts and send me a message if you find any annoying typo’s or grammar mishaps. 

@shadamyheadcanons, here you go!

[annoyedfanfiction]

@groovyfluxie​ requested: romantic/fluffy TOS Spock x Genderqueer!Reader (she/they pronouns) x TOS Dr. McCoy polyamorous relationship while on the Enterprise

I’m so sorry this took so long!!! I hope you enjoy it.

Set in TOS “Arena” (1x19)

“What do you mean we can’t beam them up?” Leonard’s voice was rough and anxious in the background of the comm line. “It’s alright, Len.” “How is this–“ “We’ll look after each other,” you assured him, voice soothing even as you crouched behind a pile of rubble. “We’re together. You just better be there when we beam back up.” “I’m not going anywhere,” he rumbled, and you smiled, though you knew he couldn’t see it. “Love you, Len.” “If you two are quite done,” Jim teased, snatching his comm back, “Sulu, notify us when it is possible to beam back up.”

“Lang!” You leapt for cover as their fire rained around you, side stinging with a shot, but your companion wasn’t so lucky. “(L/N), what’s going on?” Your communicator buzzed to life. “Lang’s down, Captain.” You hissed as your hand traced over the burn of something that wasn’t quite a phaser. “Are you hit, Lieutenant?” Spock’s voice, now, low and level, but concerned. “Nothing serious,” you assured him, though it was rather unconvincing when followed immediately by a sharp scream. One of the large, lizard-like creatures loomed over you, phaser in hand. “Lieutenant?” You rolled to the side as it aimed for you, taking its legs out with you. It crashed to the ground, strong and fierce but not agile. Its weapon skidded from its hand and you bolted, snatching up the fallen weapon and plunging behind a further pile as the fire started up again. Someone yelled an order and the barrage stopped for a moment. You peaked out just in time to see your attacker return back to the high ground and you took off, weapons whirring back to life as you skidded out of range.

“It’s fine, Len. We’re together, Len. Stop worrying, Len,” Leonard muttered the mimicry under his breath as Chapel finished taking samples from your seared flesh and bandaged you up. You rolled your eyes, used to the frustration with which he expressed concern. It wasn’t ideal but you’d known him for long enough not to take it personally. “I’m fine, aren’t I?” “Define “fine”,” he retorted, pulling the curtain shut behind Chapel. “You were shot – twice – with an unknown weapon.” “And you’ve fixed me.” You made grabby hands at him and he sighed, but moved into range. You immediately pulled him to you, hands going up to cup his face. He wouldn’t look at you. “Come on, darling. Look at me.” His eyes finally flicked to yours, swirling with fear and relief and love. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” He glared down at you for a moment longer, but you could feel him melting, before he finally brought his lips down to meet yours. “Just don’t do it again.” The words were mumbled against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. “It is highly unlikely they would intend for this to happen.” You smiled up at Spock as Leonard grumbled. “Are you well, th’y’la?” “They’ve been shot, of course they’re not–“ “Len fixed me right up, ashayam,” you assured him, cutting Leonard off, thumb brushing over the graze on Spock’s cheek. “You’re hurt too!” Instantly, Spock was shoved onto the bed beside you. “Stay there. I’ll get the regen.” He huffed out, curtains swishing around him, and you just leaned into Spock, both of you knowing better than to argue. “I believe we ought to be more careful, ashayam,” Spock mused, as Leonard buzzed about with the regenerator. “If only to preserve the good doctor’s mental fitness.” “Why you green-blooded bastard–“

“What are you going to do, Mr Spock?” Bones demanded, coming up to the Captain’s chair. You sighed, preparing for yet another argument. “I'm going to wait, Doctor. There's little else I can do.” That was not the answer Bones wanted and both you and Spock knew it. “What about the Captain?” He ignored you murmuring his name. “If I could help him, I would.” Spock’s voice was heavy in a way that only those who knew him truly would recognise. Unfortunately for him, the Bridge crew was loaded with those who knew him. “I cannot.” “Now, you're the one that's always talking about logic!” “Bones,” you warned, sliding to your feet. “What about some logic now? Where's the Captain, Mister Spock?” There was no true vitriol in Bones’ voice. Just worry, fear. “He's out there, Doctor. Out there somewhere in a thousand cubic parsecs of space, and there's absolutely nothing we can do to help him.” Silence fell heavily and you wanted nothing more than to gather Spock into your arms, let him know that you were there. But that wasn’t Spock. So you laid a firm hand on his shoulder, feeling Bones lean into your side, weary and scared and hopeful, but still holding you up more than you were him. You locked one hand in the doctor’s hair, letting your fingers trail patterns along his scalp. Spock glanced up at you, eyes warm in his impassive face, then looked back to the screen.

“This is the U.S.S. Enterprise calling the Metrons. Our channels are open. Come in, please. We urgently desire a conference. Please answer.” “The ship, our engines, our weapons. It's just inconceivable that we are immobilised,” Bones was trying to be hopeful, frustration brimming through his voice. “But it has happened, Doctor.” The room dimmed, screen swirling to life in a blaze of colour. “We are the Metrons. Your Captain is losing his battle.” Your heart dropped in your chest. “We would suggest you make whatever memorial arrangements, if any, which are customary in your culture. We believe you have very little time left.” “We appeal to you in the name of civilisation. Put a stop to this!” Bones demanded, and this time neither of you noticed the tired look Spock offered him. “Your violent intent and actions demonstrate that you are not civilised. However, we are not without compassion. It is possible you may have feelings toward your Captain.” Bones spluttered, and you squeezed his hand tightly. “So that you will be able to prepare yourself, we will allow you to see and hear what is now transpiring.” “Not without compassion?” You snarled, and the image that was appearing paused, flickering back into the whirlwind of colour that had spoken. “You speak of compassion and civilisation but if this is your sick idea of entertainment what does that say about you?” You heard Spock’s warning tone, but you were going to finish this if it killed you. “Both of those beings down there are people. They have crews to care for. Friends. Family. And you’re forcing them to kill one another? Just so that you can kill the losing crew?” The light snapped an angry red. “If you’re powerful enough to immobilise our ship, to send them to a world where they can create weapons, then you are powerful enough to prevent negotiations from becoming violent. So put an end to this and let us negotiate.” “You cannot negotiate! You are violent and uncivilised!” “No! We are hurting!” Silence echoed. The screen flashed into blackness, then an image of Jim and the Gorn appeared. Jim stuck his finger into the powdery substance encrusting the rock and brought it to his lips, screwing his face up and immediately spitting it out. But there was realisation in his eyes. “If only there was some way we could contact him,” Bones lamented, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him. He pressed a kiss to your head, kind enough not to acknowledge the tears gathering in your eyes. “Yes, indeed, Doctor, if only there were,” Spock agreed, for the first time. “Notice the substance encrusting that rock. Yes. Unless I'm mistaken, it's potassium nitrate.” “So?” “Perhaps nothing, Doctor.” He paused, eyes fixed to the screen. “Perhaps everything.” “Gunpowder.” You rolled your eyes at Spock’s riddled musing, fondly exasperated. His lips twitched into a slight smirk, almost invisible except that you knew what to look for. Bones huffed beside you and you grinned up at him, despite yourself.

“I take it back. I don’t want to negotiate anymore,” you whined, as Spock carefully fixed the collar of your uniform. A half-smile. “You were adamant earlier, Ambassador.” The door to your chambers slid open. “Human error, Commander.” You smirked up at him. “You wouldn’t know such a thing.” “Stop flirting,” Bones scolded, leaning against the doorframe. “Jealous, Len?” you teased, letting him sweep you into his arms. He rolled his eyes, planting a gentle kiss to your lips anyway. “It is highly illogical to be jealous of one’s own partners, Leonard.” Spock watched you, eyebrow raised and hands tucked behind his back. “Green’s your colour anyway,” Bones muttered, tugging you with him to pull Spock into a kiss. “You’re going to mess up my hair,” you warned, as Spock’s deft fingers traced up your cheek, tangling around the back of your neck. The door slid open again and you jumped, guiltily, only to be met by Jim’s laughter. “Come on, lovebirds. I need to borrow the Ambassador.” Your cheeks must have been as hot as Spock’s were flushed green as Jim laughed. Bones, unruffled by the intrusion, just rolled his eyes, scoffing about washing his eyes out after walking in on Jim that many goddamn times– You smoothed your uniform down and linked your arm with Jim’s. Behind you, Spock fixed Bones’ collar before they followed you to the transporter bay.

[worldwidemochiguy]

the man in the moon (Yandere! Yoongi)

Summary: You can’t help but gaze at the stars and he can’t help but gaze back at you. 

Word Count: 1.7K

Masterlist

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, (kind of) Stockholm syndrome, Dissociation, bad writing. 

Authors note: I got the idea and then made this and tbh it’s kind of shitty which makes me sad bc it could have been a cool concept but ah well lol. 

The man in the moon is my man

He never say nothing so I know he understands

He’ll never break my heart 

I know he’s here to stay

Tell all the other boys to go away

I’ll take the man in the moon 

- Man in the Moon, by Voice of the Beehive 

Yoongi had a fairly repetitive schedule. He would wake up and then… well. That was basically it. He preferred not to go outside, deeming the bouncing gait he had to adopt to travel around as ‘undignified’, even if there was no one else around to see it. He spent his days in his meticulously shuttered compound. Covering the windows was necessary, given that the moon was far slower at rotating than its orbital partner, Yoongi thought with contempt. 

Rather than having a cycle of darkness and light over 24 hours, it took his planet almost a month to complete a ‘day’. Even Yoongi was incapable of sleeping when the sun’s full glare was seeping through the thick window panes, and after enduring a week and a half of the torture, he went around with a hammer, an armful of boards, and a budding vendetta against the sun. 

Eons later, Yoongi’s skin was infinitely paler, his eyes were infinitely piercing, and his life was infinitely dull. Yoongi sometimes dabbled in casting his gaze onto the Earth, the ugly planet he was stuck forever facing towards. Normally, what he found was severely lacking. Stupidity, and greed, and petty squabbles seemed to be all the human race knew how to do. But, for lack of a better option, he kept on looking. And then he found you.

From the moment he saw you, he knew you were different. He almost thought you were a fallen star, stuck in a place you didn’t belong just like he was. You were clearly brighter than any other filthy human marring the Earth, and you only became increasingly so as you aged.

Yoongi’s eyes followed you everywhere, he saw when you learned how to ride a bike, when you got your high school diploma, when you got your first promotion. He resented every second of the hours you were woefully hidden from view. It was ridiculous; he could peer through hundreds of thousands of kilometres of space and locate you with ease, but as soon as you disappeared behind the curve of the Earth, you were out of sight? 

Yoongi couldn’t bear it when he couldn’t see you, even if he knew you were going to bed in that time and therefore had less of a chance of getting hurt. He was very protective of you. How could he not be, he reasoned, when he had saw you grow up before his very eyes. Of course, he had previously watched billions of souls come into existence and age and wither and die, all without sparing a thought. But he could never let that happen to you. He could not let you be another distant creature, always in his sight but never in his reach. 

It was difficult for Yoongi to watch you living your life without him. The first time you kissed another man, he felt an anger that had never before reared its head rip itself out of him. It raged along the shorelines of the Earth, coaxing in fearsome waves from the deep. It ripped along the streets, blowing with the force of a thousand gales. The moon almost tilted off its axis, turning its back on the Earth for far longer than it should have done. 

Yoongi saw the devastation his rage resulted in. The loss of thousands of lives. The destruction of property built by the hands of men. He only felt a flicker of satisfaction. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t enough, he would never be able to harm those around you (those who wanted to hurt you) without also hurting you in the process. You were too far, the only way he could touch you was with a broad wave of violence. And that is how Yoongi came to his conclusion.

He could not harm those around you without harming you. You were stuck down there among danger. The solution was simple: he needed to draw you to his side.

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

“He’ll never break my heart, I know he’s here to stay,” You sang, or — more accurately — shouted, using your deodorant stick as a makeshift-microphone since your friend had already snatched the hair brush. “Tell all the other boys to go away!” You screamed the lyrics together, dancing around your cramped living room. 

“Mina!” You called, pointing the stick at your friend, “Solo!” 

She cackled and then sung along with the song blasting on the radio, laughing so hard she could barely get the lyrics out. When she pointed at you again to finish the song off, you did so with flair.

“I’ll take the man in the moon.” You crooned. You both paused dramatically as the bassline faded out, before collapsing into giggles on the carpeted floor. Mina had come over to try and cheer you up after your boyfriend had forgotten to show at your anniversary date, again, and she had obviously succeeded. 

“Y’know,” you started, once the laughter had died down, and Mina hummed in acknowledgement. “My parents would always tell me about the man in the moon.”

“Tell you what?” Mina asked, rolling over onto her stomach and resting her chin on her forearms.

“Well… they would tell me stories about him.”

“Such as…?” Mina prompted, and then burst into giggles as you chucked a pillow at her for her impatience. 

“Such as… that he existed. Like, he was sent there as a punishment.” 

“Punishment? For what?”

“I don’t know,” you floundered, “For, like, being weird or something. Anyways, the point is-” you stressed, “I’ve always felt like there was someone watching me. From up there.”

Mina’s immaculately groomed eyebrows flicked up.

“So you seriously believe there’s a man on the moon?” You flushed and sat up, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

“I don’t know, it’s just… weird, I guess.”

“It’s not weird, you’re weird.” 

Mina was expecting the pillow being swung at her face that time, and fought back valiantly with a throw cushion. 

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

Your body cast a shadow along your moonlight-bathed room as you leaned your forehead against the window. Up there in the sky, the moon continued to shine as it always had done, your eternal silent companion. It was a full moon that night. You noticed that as you brushed a finger against the glass separating you and the night sky. It was difficult to believe the moon was so far away, it almost felt like, if you only opened your window and leaned out, you could cup it in your hands.

It was almost a compulsion that led you to lift the latch. Like the pull of the tide, you leaned away to twist the handle and then drew back to breathe in the night air. You couldn’t trust your eyes, as it almost looked like the moon had swollen, now bigger, brighter, closer. It became blurred, hidden as your breath formed translucent clouds which eddied on the cool night breeze, swirling faster and faster. You pitched your body further out of the window, taking one arm away from its steadying position on the windowsill to reach out. To brush the moon, as it started to take on an almost unnatural glow.

Like a moth to its burning cold flame, you were drawn in, your eyes wide, your face gleaming white as you approached the moon. A pair of eyes were stretching across space, fixed on you unerringly, coaxing you out. You felt a hand enclose around your outstretched palm. It tugged you forwards slightly, and you lost your balance, tipping into the open arms of the night. 

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

“Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Can you wake up for me?” The kind, almost intimate words were uttered by a voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used for some time. The hoarse, gravelly tones echoed in your head as your eyelashes fluttered. Immediately, there was a cold hand cradling your head, and another beneath your back, helping you to a sitting position as you squinted, still unable to take in your surroundings. 

Slowly, your vision cleared. A man was bent over you, his striking dark eyes swimming with concern. His skin was… so white it almost hurt your eyes to look at. The paleness seemed to have even leached the colour out of his hair, leaving him as an almost wraithlike figure. 

“W-where am I?” You croaked, your own voice rough as if it had been a long time since it was last used. You glanced around the room, trying to find an indicator of the time, or of where you were. You could find none.

His lips quirked slightly, and he guided your body back down to the bed.

“You’re safe.” He told you. “That’s all that matters. Now sleep.” As he commanded it, your eyes shut and everything went dark again. 

The man brought you strange things, food that was not food, gifts that felt almost unnatural — a doll that followed you around the room with its eyes, an hourglass that never ran out of sand. You couldn’t seem to break out of the limbo you sunk into when you fell out of your bedroom window and into this strange place. There were no windows, and when you asked the man — Yoongi, he told you to call him — what time it was, he simply smiled and told you he didn’t know either, and didn’t care to find out. 

Sometimes you woke up and felt those eyes on you, and he would be watching you. He would always smooth your hair back — which was starting to grey, or was it just paling, like his? — and tell you not to worry. He never told you what he wanted from you, and after a time (you don’t know how long) you stopped caring. You passed through many rooms, all of them the same, all of them lacking windows, until you found an exit.

You went outside and saw Yoongi, standing sentinel on a rocky outcrop. You climbed over to join him, and turned your gaze to see what he was looking at. There stood the Earth, small and inconsequential from your standing. By now, you could hardly remember what it had been like to live there. Yoongi turned to look at your blank face, skin as pale and glowing as the moon, and he smiled. He was alone no longer. 

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x04)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 04: She Who Seduces

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: wow! lots of stuff you guys want but at the same time aren’t gettin’ any

Word Count: It’s a weird feeling to be tagged as an essential worker, but not be made to feel like an essential worker? I mean I feel I’m not one. But if I am being forced out of my house, being exposed to the possibility of catching the virus, being ignored by corporate, media and the govt as humans, I have to wonder why am I even sitting here. I get the doctors and nurses and no amount of verbal praise can even come close to what they are doing right now. But if me and my colleagues have be ignored and made to work at large, I’d rather we do it from the safety of our homes, man. (Just when I had started to get better on my own)

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera focused on a blue egg the colour of sky lying in the dirt, zooming in on it a little before jolting back as the egg moved. The camera did the entire cycle once again before a fluff hand tried to smack that egg like a cat curious about this unexplained cute atrocity in front of them.

“Lulu!” a voice called from somewhere in the distance in the midst of a mixture of all sorts of noises- like the ones experienced in your neighbourhood local market. But the camera did not budge till it recorded the sky egg crack bit by bit before a pair of blue eyes popped out on a little white head. Those gorgeous cute eyes looked at the camera, blinking out of coordination before looking at the little golden fuzzy arm slowly coming towards its head. Blinking again- this time with curiosity- the blue eyes froze on that snail-paced extension of a husk behind the camera before a tiny void opened under those innocent eyes to take that husk arm into it and bite down with an audible crunch.

Javier’s camera swiftly turned to Lulu’s cries, finding him far behind in the crowd of aliens trying to knock something away from his arm.

The little husk- screaming and howling like a little dog in pain- was rescued by pale fingers catching hold of the round head that was too stubborn to let go. A little squeeze and those surprisingly vicious teeth let go, breaking the remnants of the eggshells to let out white paws attached to the tiniest legs.

“Scram,” Loki ordered the white alien- who ran away as quickly as possible- before turning towards Lulu, “what were you trying to do with that beast? Have it for breakfast?”

Lulu chirped, nodding before slumping a little into the ground.

“Yeah, good luck with that while you’re in Y/N’s care,” he stated, getting and turning to look at the judgmental zoom Javier’s camera threw on him. “What. You want her to keep another alien as a pet?”

“Guys, I found a restaurant,” your voice called out of the frame, making Loki look in your direction, “OH MY GOD YOU GUYS! THERE ARE REAL LIFE SAILOR SOLDIERS IN HERE!!”

Loki looked at the camera, ageing a thousand years more. “Please tell me it’s not one of those mangas she keeps talking about.”

When Javier spelt it out for him from behind the camera, Loki’s eyes closed and he let out the heaviest sigh he possibly could

Loki: *with a very serious face* the prospect of me having died before being teleported here does not seem so bad. It looks fantastic now. *camera zooms in on his face while you scream in delight in the background, “I’m sitting with real-life Sailor Soldiers!! Aaaahhhh-”*

 The Lounge

"Where's Stark?"

One camera panned in on Bucky's face as he came out of the dorm with bed hair while the other looked at a mildly surprised Scott drinking orange juice from a crystal wine glass.

"He said he'll come in twenty. He's gone for his weekly therapy session," Scott replied, swirling the juice in his glass with his pinky out while observing Bucky from head to toe. "You should try that sometimes. It's really good."

Bucky sat down on the sofa with a stare filled with judgemental questions in Scott's direction. "Me? Therapy? That stuff's for looneys."

Scott furrowed his brows at Bucky, pause all moments for a second before bringing the glass ever so slowly to his lips. "Okay, Boomer."

"What?"

"What?"

Bucky: I don’t need therapy. *mocks a laugh* Shuri made me better than ever in Wakanda. All I need is exercise, healthy food in my stomach and a good amount of sleep. *nods in satisfaction*

*camera zooms out to reveal Scott sitting next to him, shaking his head lightly in mild disbelief*

Scott: *softly* Now I know where that attitude in this present world comes from.

Bucky: *turns to look at Scott* *shifts uncomfortably in his seat while shifting his gaze between the camera and Scott*

*silence erodes the room before Bucky finally breaks*

Why are you looking at me like that? I haven’t killed anyone recently.

Scott: *furrows brows in confusion* what?

Bucky: *stops mid-way and looks away from Scott towards the camera* Nothing

Scott: I never said about killing anyone. *pitch grows higher with every word* Bucky, I never said about killing anyone. Bucky, did you kill someone?

Bucky: *shakes his head with disinterest* mm-mm.

Scott: *mouth opens wide in disbelief* *hands go into his hair on his head* OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE!!!

Bucky: NO! I DID N-

Fifteen Minutes Later

Bucky: *softly* So I’ve decided after...a lot of thinking that I should go talk to a...a therapist.

Scott: *nods and smiles at the camera like an encouraging wife*

Bucky: *gives a forceful smile*

Scott: And I too will be going to see a therapist.

Bucky: *nods* *presses lips*

Bucky and Scott: *look at the door, forcing the camera to turn and land on a somewhat irritated Natasha glaring at them from outside the door with arms crossed across her chest*

 Back In The Lounge

Wanda walked into the living room space where Bruce was working on some calculations on his laptop while another camera discreetly caught Bucky and Scott giving each other the stink eye.

"You should take a break, Bruce," Wanda stressed while placing a mug of hot tea on his table. Bruce half-looked at the mug before turning back to it, pulling it close and smelling it. "Since when do we drink so much tea?"

Wanda shrugged. "Since Loki and Y/N came into our lives?" She was unsure but that's what all things pointed at. Bruce went with it too.

He rubbed his eyes and shut his laptop. "Yeah, I guess we can take a break." He yawns and gets up. "Loki seems to have everything under control anyway, so…"

Wanda seemed to wince very quietly, her expressions showing no surety in Bruce’s words; or a reflection of an upset stomach.

“I mean, Y/N is being a levelheaded person too. It’s not all Loki.”

A scoff came from the other side of the room where Bucky stood, all eyes and camera turning to stare at him, his crumbling confident posture trying to display reason. “I mean...she hasn’t been to space before. She does not know what’s out there as well as Loki.”

“So, what you are trying to say is she won’t be able to survive if it wasn’t for Loki?” Scott stretched his words to make sure Bucky heard every single one of them.

“Of course she wouldn’t survive out there. She is a kid.” A very sweaty Clint walked into the lounge and went straight for the orange juice inside the fridge. The camera caught the muted gasps coming out of Wanda and Scott for the men in the room not having much faith in your survival skills.

“So are you,” a very sweaty Natasha acknowledged Clint’s words as she grabbed the juice bottle from Clint’s hand, “but you survived the Infinity War without your family. Oh, wait. You didn’t really survive. You just turned into a whiny little bitch and started killing the first thing you saw.”

Wanda looked at the camera with her eyes wide and her lips pressed tightly to stop her from screaming at the burn. Bruce, on the other hand, whispered ‘oh shit’ and tried to disappear in his mug. Scott sipped his juice like the best tea he had been served in a long time, all the while smirking like a content goofball.

“That was so below the belt, Nat,” Clint protested, his hands resting on his hips as he watched her gulp down half the bottle of juice before handing Clint the rest and smacking her lips in satisfaction. “Y/N is in outer space with a frost giant. And so is Javier. But I don’t hear any of you mention him in this conversation when it comes to surviving on one's own?”

“Javier is a-”

Bruce paused before finishing his sentence as he realised the error of his words right before they came out. “Nice guy?” He finally breathed out, his lungs not being able to take the torture. “He is also in danger, of course. That is a given. I was in danger too when I was stuck in space. Thor can vouch for me.”

Thor: *standing on a cliff while the Asgardians celebrate in the background around a fire* *yells over the sound of waves crashing in on the rocks below* BRUCE WAS SO MUCH FUN ON SAKAAR! WE HAD DRINKS AND DANCES AND SO MANY GIRLS OGLING AT HIM! OF COURSE, THAT WAS WHEN HE WAS THE HULK. WHEN HE WAS BACK TO BEING A BORING OLD SCIENTIST ALL HE SPOKE WAS OF HIS PHDS AND HIS HOW MUCH THIS ONE GUY HERE WAS ALL OVER HIM! I THINK HE LIKED IT. HIM! HE LIKED HIM. IF THIS IDIOT WASN’T STUCK ON BORING OLD NAT THEN I WAS BETTING ON THEM DOIN’ IT. YEAH!!! *pauses and smiles his widest smile* *blinks into an invisible void in the distance* PLEASE DON’T TELL NATASHA  I CALLED HER BORING. OR-OR OLD.

Bruce gulped where he sat. “Maybe he can’t vouch for me. He was too trippy throughout his trip to space anyways. Maybe the lack of oxygen did it to him.”

The silence grew uncomfortable by the second as he exchanged a look with a camera while Clint just shook his head and let out a defeated “dude”.

 Space Place

“Hey, where’s Loki?” you asked Javier while Lulu climbed up the bar stool in the small inn right by the farmer’s market that you had just passed. “Right behind you?” you looked past Javier before walking towards the way he had come- “but he’s not he-”

Your words were cut short by something you saw from the window, forcing the camera to shift on seeing the concern cloud your face towards the scene outside the window. Outside, four buffed up aliens stood surrounding Loki while he raised his hands a little like a white flag.

Instinct took over and you stepped out of the inn but stopped on the porch as Loki yelled, “No! Do not come any closer!” without making eye contact.

One of the buff guys did step closer, his face breathing down right into Loki’s. And Loki? He chuckled at the alien. “One more inch and I think we’ll be kissing, Kronk.”

Kronk the big boulder looking guy hissed at him. “You stepped on the wrong planet, Silvertongue. Hudon wants your head or your body. And he will make sure you pay up your dues.”

Loki tried to increase the distance between him and Kronk, moving back a little; enough to stop smelling his breath on him. “Wow. Looks like someone had a lot of raw Siluji fish today. Hehe. And I thought Hudon was on Myscul. Anyways. How about I talk to Hudon and offer him something that he cannot refuse. And both of us can get back to our respective business.” No matter how much he smiled, Loki did not seem to be getting through that guy.

“Hudon does not want to talk to you. He knows how you work, trickster. He will cut his ears off before he listens to you.”

Loki wanted to contradict the guy but shut his lips to be on the better side of this guy. “Okay. Fine. I will meet him in two hours then? I’ll even bring some good sushi for you.” Loki started to walk away from them when one of Kronk’s men caught hold of him and slapped black handcuffs onto his wrists. 

“You are coming with us, traitor.”

The camera recorded Loki being dragged away in broad daylight while no one even batted an eye at the incident. You walked to the end of the porch- the end close enough to watch Loki being taken away as his brows reflected concern in your direction before disappearing behind the nearest stall of berries.

“Javi,” you uttered softly, your eyes still looking for Loki, “I think Loki’s in trouble. Oh, God. I think we are in trouble.”

 The Foreigner’s Inn

The camera settled on the window sill and a pair of hands moved away to reveal Javier sitting back in the seat of the corner table far away from the bustle of the inn. You sat opposite him, nervously biting your nails and moving your leg under the table while Lulu sat right in the middle, facing the camera, drinking some green concoction you bought him with a few talons from the ones Loki handed you once you had landed on this planet. Javier’s blue eyes scrutinised the place before coming back to you. He tapped your hand for attention before signing something.

“Yeah,” you acknowledged with a nod, “a plan. We need to come up with a plan to save Loki. But we don’t know where they took him. Oh, shi-should we have followed them? Ah fuck! Now, we won’t know where they went. Maybe we should ask someone. But we don’t know what kind of guy Hudon is. What if he’s got eyes everywhere? Then if we ask someone about him, we’ll be the ones walking right into the lion’s den. And we’ll be the ones who will need saving. Okay okay okay okay okay okay. Right right right right right right.”

Javier knocked the table to get your spiralling conscience back to him, directing you to stop, breathe in and breathe out. And you did, pausing for a moment before things got worse in your head. “Right. We need to think this with a clear head. Um...what would Mr Stark tell us to do.”

With your back straight you looked right at Javier. “He would say stop, take a breather. Make sure that you are safe first. It’s fine to worry about Loki but he is a great strategist. He will definitely find a way out of trouble. But that does not mean we do not go look for him. No one gets left behind. Not even that ugly gourd. Help is always around. All you need to do is ask. And never forget that I love you no matter what. Now go save that son of a bitch.”

Javier stared blankly for a second before breaking into silent applause. “So, we need to find something or someone that can give information about that guy holding Loki. Where can we get someone who would know that and help us, complete strangers?”

Lulu, who, all this time had been swinging his bushy bottom from the chair, suddenly stopped, put the drink from his hand on the table and pressed his belly with a click.

[Hippie Sabotage’s Righteous starts playing]

Lulu got down from his chair and moved towards the door of the inn. You called after him but he did not stop and so you and Javier followed with the camera.

Lulu’s camera took in the boots stepping into the inn first. Then the ripped pants, going up to the open shirt revealing perfect abs. Then came those familiar faces carrying their smouldering looks with them still.

Javi’s camera recorded your expression of surprise followed by a hint of something schemy going on in those eyes. A smile was all that you gave them though. “Never thought I would see you guys again.”

The camera swerved to the rainbow k-pop donning shades that were being taken off as slowly as possible. White turned to look at you, the smoulder still holding strong on his face. “And leave you to fend for yourself, princess. Not on my watch.”

You: Yeah *mildly disgusted* I forgot how clingy he is.

“I need your help.”

Sky jumped where he stood and clapped his hand before slipping behind Mauve and blushing.

“Loki’s in trouble. I need to help him es-”

“Say no more,” White whispered while bringing his pale finger on your lips, which you smacked away. “But before we go on the adventure together, my beautiful princess, I urge you to imagine going on another adventure. Just you. And me. And planets with no one but us.”

“And me,” came a faint whisper from behind Mauve.

“Oh, my G-is there anyone of you who is a normal one?”

“I don’t know about normal,” Green came forward and tucked at the edges of his shirt, “but I can take him away from you and help you save your…”

You waited for him to finish his sentence.

“Boyfriend?” he sounded as unsure as the uneasy lines on his face. Before you could say anything to contradict him, White gasped and Sky whimpered. “Boyfriend! He is your boyfriend?! Oh my stars,” White cried, “what are the odds that fate made us meet when you were already someone else’s.”

You stood there, blinking, questioning whether it would be a good decision to tell him the truth. “So, because I have a boyfriend, you will stop pursuing me?”

Sky sniffled, White sighed in defeat and Orange clicked his tongue at the lost opportunity. “I am a creature of code. I would never even think pretty thoughts about someone else’s queen,” he assured with a weak vibration in his voice.

“Cool,” you exclaimed, “Loki is my boyfriend! And I am Y/N, hi. And you are…”

“Call us whatever you like,” Green replied with a smile. “We don’t have names. Just voice notes as a way of identification. Now, let’s get to work.”

“Oh my God,” Mauve groaned audibly and rolled his eyes under those shades, “finally. She definitely needs that work.”

You and the cameras looked at you, wondering what was so wrong to have blunt judgement thrown at you out of nowhere. “Why would I need work?”

Green gestured to you to move up the stairs of the inn with them. “You mentioned Loki being captured by the alien named Hudon.”

“Never mentioned that.”

“He is a classic brute,” Green continued, like he never heard you, as you walked next to him while Lulu got himself lifted into your arms, “who owns all the brothels of this base. He trades in creatures who can exploit their own bodies for what he pays them. The fact that Loki was taken away by his men points at the possibility of trade between them gone wrong.”

You gasped at the sudden revelation that was dawning upon you. “Wait. So, that could mean he wants payback from Loki. Does he want payback in...in cash or...in kind?”

Green’s eyes reflected sympathy for your situation. “Let’s hope, for you and Loki, that it is cash.”

“But wouldn’t that mean he has to sell his body?!”

Green nodded. Lulu’s camera caught White murmuring to Violet, “do you think that furry thing is their child?”

“We have something that might help you. And for that-” he stopped in front of a door of one room at the far end of the corridor, twisting the knob and clicking it open for you to enter- “we would need your help.”

“Okay,” you nodded before confusion took over your face and Lulu purred while rubbing against your shoulder, “what kind of help.”

Mauve sighed loudly, pushing you away- gently- to enter the room first. “We would need your help to do something about the drab that you humans call fashion on your planet,” he nearly puked while looking at your clothes.

“Hey! This shirt is really comfortable. So are these leggings and boots!”

Mauve screwed his face at you. “Oh, they better be! Because that hue-combination is a disaster,” he stressed.

You felt your head go back a little. "Just because I don't have much interest in fashion, I'm gonna let that pass. But I am pretty sure the Queer Eye won't stand for that insult."

"The Queer Eye would've made you into a walking weapon had they been in your vicinity darling," Mauve mentioned matter-of-factly and walked towards the lone dresser and dragged out the chair before tapping it. "Now sit your ass down and let me show you how it's done while Mr Green fills you in about everything."

You looked at Green. He nodded jovially. White on the other hand went and plopped on the bed. Violet went and splayed himself on the sofa, Red went for the window sill to go and brood there. Sky took the foot of the bed and made himself comfortable to look at you for the next two hours. Orange took off his shirt and trousers and went into the bathroom.

"Hey, Lulu," White called out from the bed, "put on a sexy getting-ready song."

Lulu got up on the dresser and pressed his stomach to play Rachel Bloom’s Sexy Getting Ready Song.

“Wait. Hold on,” you called out, making Mauve and Green stop in their tracks and Lulu pausing the song, “I...I gotta poop. Please get that orange pervert out of there?”

 Hudon’s Whorehouse

A hush, beginning from the entrance, fell as the eyes followed the figure. A sweet yet strong melody seemed to follow that black-clad creature, stirring both fear and excitement in the witnesses; who completely missed the two companions walking on its either side.

Never feel too good in crowds With folks around when they're playing

The clack of those pointed heels seemed to be a pound at the doors of the devil himself and every minion that walked in the path she walked, only stopping in the room fit for a queen; nothing less. A seat was taken on the gold-framed sofa, legs spread in comfort and defiance of the one in charge, arms rested on the armrest while popping a grape in the mouth with lips painted red as the blood that flowed in her veins.

A creature with the body of a human- except for the extra pair of hands- and the head of a furry with antlers entered the hall, sitting opposite you. “Welcome to the house of Hudon!” he greeted, the gold on his antlers jingling like bells on Rudolph, “the finest whorehouse you would find in this system.”

“I will evaluate the ‘fine’ myself, Hudon,” you stated quite indifferently, your attention taken by a golden strawberry resting in your fingers, “how old is this rotten blasphemy.”

The anthems of rape, culture loud Crude and proud creatures baying

It was easy to get that accent on your tongue. The tone was smooth enough to show not much effort was being put to talk while the words were spoken like a dagger stabbing the listener with every breath.”

Hudon directed his men to take those old fruits away and to replace them with new ones. But you had already lost interest in them. Sitting straight up, you let your arms go back on the headrest, your suit jacket revealing the skin underneath, the acne on your chest from the sweat and dust revealing itself in full glory. Hudon nearly feels himself blackout with the sheer audacity of a human woman walk into his house and sit there as a client while making him- the one who runs the sex business- make him feel things that were quite transparent in his gaze.

All I've ever done is hide From our times when you're near me

“Here I am, out on a vacation from my boring home, looking for some fun and adventure when someone suggests to me your name and business,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear. “Hudon the hoarder. The one who has everything you can ask for. Anything out of your fantasy. You name it, he has it for you.”

“I do,” he agreed with a smile, interrupted just as he is about to start listing his merchandise.

“Oh, but I don’t think you do, Hudon.” You leaned forward, your legs still spread apart in those black trousers, your frame bent enough to reveal more and still reveal nothing at all, making Hudon’s eyes linger there far longer than he expected them to. “I don’t think you do. What could you possibly have that could seem human enough for my taste and yet not human at all, Hudon? What could you possibly have that could meet my demands, unlike the men on my planet? One who is not meant to be ruled and yet-” your voice turned to a whisper, and Hudon’s eyes were stuck on the hypnotising moment of your lips under that netted veil covering your smokey eyes- “he bends under my commands like a good dog because he knows he will get a treat if he behaves.”

Hudon gulped and blinked.

Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life

“I am not here to have some cheap fun, Hudon. Nor some sloppy seconds. I want a challenge that I can smother between my thighs, making him question how he ended up there, under me. And then make him question how he can get under me, again.”

A silence proceeded your laced words. A long lingering silence which would have stretched even more had one of Hudon’s men not brought that shook fur-face back to the present.

“I I I I I think I have the perfect specimen for you, miss…”

“Lady. Lady...Morticia Addams,” you declared, blinking at Javier’s camera.

You: *cringing* I did not think this part through. But I did come up with a nice personality? *does a weak thumbs up*

“I will send for him immediately, Lady Morticia,” Hudon declared, getting and taking a bow, “and if he is not able to satisfy you, I will humbly present myself to you as a sacrifice.”

You: *deadpan* Pervert.

“If your specimen does not satisfy me, then mark my words, Hudon, you won’t find any piece of him in your excuse of a brothel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a weak voice, walking out and scolding his guards to get him ‘Silvertongue’.

You noticed the two guards still in the hall by the door, looking at you and your companions. Javier moved from his place by the fireplace to the door, to let the tiny camera- courtesy of the rainbow k-pop- strapped to his chest take in the patient steps of the man of the hour; at the same time, directing with his hands to Lulu to resume his score.

But you don't know what hell you put me through To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

Loki, bare-chested and in chains, was walked towards your hall with four guards- two on front and two on back. This was the first time any of the cameras had seen so much of his bare skin. Neither had they seen so many muscles on that body that seemed so lean on the outside with the clothes on. The raven hairs snaked around his shoulders while his eyes were set at the goal in front of him: you. And if you did not know any better you would have thought those peach curtains were flying right and left to get a one-touch, one whiff of that God.

To feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the god that heroin prays to

You almost choked on the juice you were offered on seeing Loki like that- in just his pants. Like a healthy supermodel straight out of a pin-up hidden in your childhood drawer. Quickly recovering and changing into the persona created for this place you leaned back on the sofa to admire the view when all five men came to a halt in front of you.

It feels good, girl, it feels good It feels good, girl, it feels good

“Hm,” you muttered, your eyes going up and down an apparently tight-jawed Loki, “decent. Where did you catch this fish?”

“Caught him fresh in the market today,” Hudon’s henchman answered, surprisingly in an Australian accent, “owed our master for quite some time. Will finally pay his debts now.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good Oh, to be alone with you

The laugh that came out of the prude was murky. You got up and nonchalantly waved your hand to make the guards stand away from the merch, letting you get a good three-sixty view. Loki could feel your eyes on him even when you stood behind him, carefully studying these marks on an otherwise flawless skin that ran all over his back and some did on arms, right down his wrist.

A wave of emotion washed over you on seeing them, which you hastily veiled for the sharp eyes lurking in the background. Clearing your throat, you took out your silver hair stick from the bun at the back and walked to face the frost giant.

There are questions I can't ask Now, at last, the worst is over

“Sit,”  you commanded.

Loki’s eyes grew dark. The camera recorded the silent change of roles for a quick moment before Loki finally obeyed, getting down on his knees.

See the way you hold yourself Reel against your body's borders

You took a step to his side before looking at the guards still standing there. “What. You want in on the show as well?” Your raised-up brow was judging them hard at this moment.

The guards stood there looking at each other before one of them finally spilt. “We are not allowed to leave him alone with you till you sign the contract and make the payment.”

“Hm. Well, if that is the case-” you took another step to stand right behind Loki- “I will inspect this...merchandise before I make the payment.”

I know that you hate this place Not a trace of me would argue

The hair stick in your hand made its first contact with the bare skin on Loki’s back, promptly making his muscles move underneath that pale skin. A smile found its way to your lips. “Sensitive to touch, I see. I prefer virgin skin.” You dragged stick all the way from one end of those shoulder scales in the back to the other, taking light steps to move towards the front.

The camera zoomed in on the shadow of something brewing inside Loki’s eyes while his lips stretched ever so slightly with a thought only he knew. The stick came to the collar bone, travelling up his neck to land right below his chin, lifting it up to watch your tongue in between your teeth, peeking out for a look.

Honey, we should run away, oh, someday Our baby and her momma And the damaged love she made

“Say, boy,” you asked softly, letting the stick dig into that chin to raise it up further, “what does that mouth do.”

A chuckle rose in Loki’s chest and burst out to close his eyes before they could look at you in a new light. “They do things you wouldn’t want to know.”

But I don't know what else that I would do Than try to kiss the skin that crawls from you

Questioning- or pretending to question- his audacity you responded with a sly ‘uh-huh’ before getting down on one knee, letting both your arms rest on the other. “Well, it better-” your voice grew duskier by the minute while that thin stick landed on his lips, circling them- “do things unspeakable. Otherwise-” you gently pushed the stick in his mouth, and he took it in, wrapping his tongue around it- “what is the point of that pretty pretty mouth.”

Then feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the god that heroin prays to

Javier could not help but record the drooling and uncomfortable faces of the guards standing by the door, half of them looking at each other, other half stuck on the hypnotic movements happening between the two of you; all of them standing with their hands hiding their bulges in those leather pants.

It feels good, girl, it feels good

“That tongue better work like it is the only thing that can save your life, pretty boy.” The low pitch of your voice was drowning the whole room. Your other knee too went down, allowing them to touch his as you sat down, your back arched and your chest moving closer to his. “It better work fast because I don’t like being made to wait. But it better not rush and ruin it for me either.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

The stick was still in his mouth with Loki’s lips sucking it good when he looked up at you and gave you a judgmental glare. With a gentle tug to the stick from his mouth, you took it away, down the trail it came from, down the chest, the perfect line between his abs and then somewhere further down where the guards could not see; but that did not mean they could not imagine.

It feels good, girl, it feels good

“Now, let’s see how good your hands work,” you ordered more than questioned, turning to Javier and nodding.

Javier nodded back and Lulu’s camera recorded him walking to the door to close and bolt it. The guards could not suppress their smiles, delighted at the thoughts of what was about to go down.

“You,” you pointed at Hudon’s henchman, gesturing to him to come close, “I want you to help me with these.”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

More than eager to ‘help’ you, he skipped to where you now stood and Loki was still on his knees. “Yes. W-what can I help you with, my lady?”

Oh, to be alone with you

Your hands went down your shirt, into your bra and out came four silver balls the size of peas. “Are you done?”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

The henchman did not understand the question. Then came a click from below and Loki’s voice yelled, “NOW!”

It feels good, girl, it feels good

Oh, to be alone with you

A lot of things happened at the same time. Loki stabbed the man right in his calves while you threw those peas on the air; at the same time you and Javier ducked down to let those peas be attracted to the nearest form of flesh in their linear way, sticking to them to shock the living lights till they could see more galaxies in their vision. 

The henchman yelled in pain, down on his knee, which Loki took advantage of and stabbed him in his shoulder before wrapping his arm around his windpipe long enough to make him lose consciousness. 

You grabbed the other pin from your hair and with its pointy end pointed at the men still struggling with the aftermath of the shock, you stood in defence. “Everyone okay?”

The guards groaned. “I meant everyone I care about okay?”

Javier nodded and Lulu chirped, jumping onto your shoulder. You turned to Loki. “You okay?”

Loki nodded, grabbing the henchman’s gun and tucking it in his pants. “Oh, here.” Loki looked at you unbuttoning your suit jacket. “Woah, what are you-” and stopped when he saw a vest peeking from underneath as the shirt was thrown in his direction. “I am almost jealous of the endless choices of these for women here. Does it fit you?”

“It’s quite loose,” Loki absentmindedly responded while buttoning up, not comprehending that disappointed stare till it was too late. “I meant...it’s...how did you even get all of this stuff?”

“Ah, changing the topic, typical,” you muttered while dragging the guards behind the sofa, “I have friends besides you.”

The suspicion in Loki’s eyes suddenly changed to shock. “What are you doing with them?! I told you to stay away from those...those...Hardy-pop spawns; whatever you called them.”

“A, you never said that. B, I had to do something to help you out. C, get us out of here!”

Loki looked at you, about to speak something when he stopped, the camera panning in to watch the surprise colour his face. “You didn’t plan an escape.”

“Oh, no. I was thinking I should get into the prostitution business myself considering what a fine human specimen I am.”

Loki rolled his eyes and smacked the recuperating guard back into the ground before gesturing Javier to follow him out the door.

“I was also thinking how great it would be to settle down here because all I ever wanted was to live in an alien whorehouse. I mean, Silvertongue what? God of Mischief, who?”

“Fine! We get it,” Loki called out, leading you all straight down the corridor, “though you would have fit perfectly here.”

“Excuse me!”

“Oh I saw that look in your eyes!” Loki spat, “you played the character like it’s in your blood.” Loki pondered walking straight, “Well, Stark’s involved. So wanting to control naturally comes in your blood. But playing a full-blown Dominatrix?” Loki chuckled. “You feisty little witch.”

You pouted at his comment. “A Dominatrix! Coming from the one who used his tongue like a fucking lock pick machine to shape that metal thing into the exact pattern that could open your cuffs,” you uttered under your breath while trying to keep up with him till you ran smack into his back.

The door to the exit was closed as guards surrounded the reception from all four sides, cornering the four of you in the middle.

Lulu wrapped his fluffy arms around your neck, holding tight while his camera took in Hudon’s figure entering right where you had walked through. “I cannot believe I was played by a human,” he hissed.

“Wasn’t that hard, really. It’s like I opened my legs and boom! You were open for business,” you shrugged while Loki smacked your arm to shut you up.

“Guards!” Hudon shouted, “cuff them and throw them in the dungeons!”

Before the guards could take a step towards you all, you found yourself screaming, “wait!”

“I almost forgot,” you added, patting your vest and then your pants to find a little black box, “I was told to give this to you with the message ‘your ex says hi’.”

Hudon looked at the box placed in his hand. Javier’s camera captured you putting your fingers over Loki’s hand and dragging your index down towards the ground. Loki gave you a silent look before tangling his fingers in yours, moving Javier right behind him.

“Lulu,” you whispered discreetly, “you know what comes next right?”

Lulu purred a little before shifting to your back, his arms still secure around your neck. All eyes watched as a tweet rose from the box, increasing in pitch. And just like that it dropped in silence, the code for you four to duck down.

Loki was already shielding you with his body, his arm wrapped around you when the flash came and with it a crash. Hudon was enclosed in what looked like lit up ropes sparkling with electricity while the Hardy boys entered from the roof on ropes as smoothly as always.

“Your ex also said ‘time to die motherfucker’,” Mauve declared before electrocuting the furry.

“Seven years, Mauve,” Violet stressed with a shaking head, “it’s been seven years. Let it go.”

 Night Time at the Inn

Javier’s camera rested on the platform outside in the balcony that sat atop the inn to the view of the city. Javier himself was busy with the little yet powerful cameras in the shape of silver flies Violet was showing from his own collection. Lulu ran about chasing fireflies that glowed in multiple colours around him. A few even came and sat down on his fur, making him pause anything and everything he was doing so as not to scare them.

You walked in from the other room, showered and shampooed, in your old clothes cleaned and dried, throwing a quick glance at the surroundings before going straight for the figure sitting outside on the cemented boundary of the balcony looking down at the soft bustle and glow of this little city.

The platform was wide enough for two people but you still stood leaning on the door and knocked on the glass first. “Mind if I join you?”

Loki scooched over to the other side to make room for you. You got up and slid your butt and legs up, a lungful of the foreign air bringing with it the smell of all that was cooking in the streets. “Hmm, smells heavenly,” you hummed, letting your headrest on the brick wall behind.

When your senses had absorbed all there was to the night, you finally found the courage to speak.

[Lulu, still as a cat, clicks his belly to play Sweater Weather (feat. Fruitypoppin x Koven Wei]

“How are you doing?”

Loki’s head turned to look at you, his fingers still moving around the bracelets that did not let him use his full potential.

You shifted where you sat, scratching some itch in your head. “I mean, you okay? Like being forced into sex trafficking can leave a deeply rooted trauma if not addressed in time.”

Loki smiled and looked down at the bracelet. “I appreciate your concern. But I am fine. I have had worse”

Your lips parted in a gasp that was controlled in time. “...okay. Okay.”

His green eyes reflected the lights in a mellow hue under the brilliant duvet of stars above you. His stare had a pinch of something soft as he continued to look at you. “I also appreciate-” he shifted his glance to his arms right when you turned to look at him, adjusting the hem of the sleeve of his black t-shirt- “you not asking me about the scars.”

There was a shift of emotion visible in your eyes. A smile forced upon your lips that those y/e/c pupils betrayed. The unconscious movement of your fingers over your own arm, the repeated motion of them over the same place as if trying to soothe some underlying ache; none of it went unnoticed by those sharp smaragdines. Neither did the cage you tried to make around your waist, wrapping your arms around it, trying to block some invisible evil. “No problem-” you blinked and one of those flies recording you two zoomed in enough to see moisture gathering on the edges of your eyelids- “just know that whenever you are ready to talk, I will be there for you.”

Your smile widened, using your usual trick of letting your eyes close to hide that moisture, even adding in a chuckle here and there.

Loki had to take in a whole lot of air to bring the words out of him. “And I will be there when you need to talk about it too.”

The smile was gone. Knees were drawn closer to your chest. “Yeah, that might take ages,” you muttered as you rested your head on your knees.

“Good thing that I’m immortal then?” And the chuckle came back, bringing the stress in Loki’s shoulders down a little.

“What did you do to Hudon anyway? Why was he so pissed at you to force you to be one of his prostitutes?”

Loki groaned and let his head fall back. “I let all of his unwilling workers escape.”

You raised your brows in praise.

“While tricking him into thinking I was in love with him.”

And your jaw drops. “WHAT?!” you nearly screeched while Loki tried to shush you. “You...what?! Why??”

“Well, he comes from an orthodox planet that did not stand for the choices in the life partners he wanted. Which is why he ran away and opened brothels with no restrictions. I took...advantage of that knowledge to use him and run. From...my torturers.”

Loki’s eyes went to his arms. So did yours. “And in doing so I broke the heart of a man who was into bad trades. So I am the lesser evil here, for your information,” he recovered. 

“Yeah, freeing sex slaves and breaking a stone-cold bitch’s heart isn’t as much as evil as it is a ‘making the world a better place’, dude.” You acknowledged. “And I hope your torturers are dead otherwise they’re gonna catch these hands.”

A chortle left Loki, scaring the Lulu and making all the flies fly away from what had looked like a fluffy Christmas tree. “What, I’m serious.” A punch landed in his gut to show just how serious you were.

“Right. How do you think you will defeat them? Using black latex clothing, handcuffs, a whip and anal beads?”

You looked at the flying cam with a twist in your jaw while Loki laughed in the background.

You: I am too pissed right now to even question how he knows about anal beads.

“Haa haa. You laugh at the idea while I will actually be making them beg for mercy in leather bonds and chains,” you announced, angry at the God for losing it at the thought of you in that role again. “And I’ll definitely be doing a better job of a Dominatrix than you ever did.”

“You take that back.”

Lulu went around chasing the fireflies again while the two of you teased each other under the starry night far away from home, for the very first time not worrying about your way back, the music adding to the soothing colours brewing in the night.

 In the Darkness of The Lounge

All the ladies were lined up on the sofa, binging on drinks and popcorn in the dark, eyes stuck on the big screen when a sniffle was heard from behind them. All of them turned to watch a very worried Steve and Clint looking at Bucky and Scott sit next to them. Their faces glistened in whatever light came from the screen, the streaks of tears and swollen eyes visible even in the dark. Not to mention the blocked noses.

“Are you guys okay?” Wanda asked softly, never giving up what she saw in their minds.

Both of them nodded.

“Are you crying for Loki right now?” Clint asked with a hint of disgust in his voice, earning a smack from Natasha.

“No,” Bucky grunted from the midst of his tear wave while Scott shook his head in agreement. “I’m crying because this stupid bowl in my hand does not have any more popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Scott bawled, “I am mad at this stupid bowl too. Come, let’s get some more popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed in his hoarse voice, still crying as they got up and went away, past the kitchen and into the elevator while the rest watched them silently till the doors closed. 

“They forgot their popcorn bowl,” MJ pointed out. Clint looked at her in confusion. “Who are you?”

“None of your concern,” she replied, making Clint feel a little jolt of ‘the audacity of this kid’.

“Should weeee,” Pepper stretched the words in her whisper, unsure of how they would be seen, “watch the part with Loki and the Dominatrix again?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Natasha whispered back, happy to have recorded the live broadcast. Wanda adjusted herself and MJ passed the soda cans across the row.

Clint watched the ladies in shock while Steve sat there in hollow surprise, waiting for the screen to go back to the scene as heartfelt wails of two people could be heard from the garden outside with the words ‘so soft’ and ‘my heart ow my heart’.