#the fact she ran into it with enough force to Draw Blood was the most impressive feat

[humming-fly]

wanted to doodle more orbs and figured I'd adapt one of the fun sequences of events from my recent group cosplay, whereupon @nymphofnovels may or may not have become briefly (and accidentally!!) impaled on my prop weapon

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 14

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 14: blood and fire

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

I was sitting on a rock with a sketch pad in my lap. Reagan and her friends, mostly those a few years younger than her, were casually looking through the water for sea glass or pretty stones. The littles had really clung to her since she started helping Ms. Vivian with classes.

I spoke to Althea about the strain on my mind. She had instructed me to pick a mundane skill that didn't take much thought. She offered sketching and something inside me flipped a switch. Sometimes, when the floor was dirty enough in my cage, I would draw figures. When I ran out of room I would draw in the dust outside my cage.

I had asked Alastor for a simple sketch pad and pencil to which he complied without a sarcastic response. In fact, he didn't even ask why.

I made it a habit to spend time with Reagan in the early evening. I had my afternoon session with Lucifer or Alastor, depending on the day, followed by the still slightly uncomfortable afternoon snack with the latter, and then spent time on the shore with Reagan sketching.

I had fallen into the schedule with ease. I liked being busy and I liked being around different people. Husker was still my morning buddy and that gave me plenty of time to pepper him with questions about a certain pink and white Demon.

We stayed down on the shore until dinner. Like usual, I was quiet while Vivian and Althea did most of the talking. Since my incident, I found it quite difficult to socialize. I was always so tired. I never wanted to talk but I still craved other people's company.

After dinner, I said goodnight to Reagan and walked back up to the house. As soon as I stepped through the threshold, something felt off. I reached out my magic sense and knew there was something not right with Alastor. The house was dark and quiet, the brooding aura coming directly from his room.

I tried dulling my magic so he wouldn't sense me and crawled up the stairs. A red light emitted from underneath his door. The hallway felt heavy. I couldn't hear him moving around and I didn't dare try to reach out with my magic to feel for him. I kept myself small and quiet, carefully tiptoeing to my door and grabbing the cold handle.

Alastor's hand suddenly appeared next to mine. He towered over me from behind, leaving maybe an inch of space between us. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I wrapped myself in a protective shield of magic. His hand hadn't touched mine yet, surprisingly, but I could see it shaking against the metal.

"Alastor?" I called softly, my voice daring to shake.

"Your blood is like nothing I've tasted before," he breathed into my ear. It flicked in response and I tried to inch away unnoticeably. My heart was punching the inside of my chest. Surely he could hear it. "The cravings have returned, my dear. Painfully so." He drew a strained, shallow breath. It sounded painful. "Per our deal, will you let me satisfy this pain?"

He peeled his claws off the handle one by one, moving his hand to hover over mine and awaiting my response. He was shaking. Everything in me was screaming to run. He was dangerous. He was desperate. Even if I wanted to run, could I? I could only imagine what he currently looked like, all disproportionate and covered in green X's. His breath was hot on my ear and it was an effort to keep it from moving each time.

"S-sure."

He didn't hesitate. His hand clamped down on my own, pinning it to the handle, and sank his teeth in the spot between my neck and shoulder. I yelled and grabbed his hair with my other hand, slicing my skin on one of his antlers. He squeezed my wrist to force my fingers to let go and pulled it away. He withdrew his teeth slightly then sank them back in to get more blood. The pain flew down my arm and into the tips of my fingers.

This wasn't what I had expected. "That hurts," I gurgled.

I bent my knees and felt his teeth slip out of the injury. He audibly growled as his hand left the door handle to wrap around my torso, effectively trapping both my arms against my body. His other hand snaked up to my chain and held my head to the side for easier access.

He dragged his tongue across my skin, eliciting a whimper from me at the sensation. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my teeth, and tried pulling on his arm that was trapping me. He sank his teeth back in his bite mark, sending another wave of pain down my arm. I couldn't breathe.

I put my foot on the wall and pushed. It did nothing. I put up the other but his black tentacles came out to hold them down. My cries for him to stop landed on deaf ears, though I felt his magic abide the pain to a lesser degree. Tears were steadily streaming down my face at this point.

I started to feel extremely tired and lethargic. I tried digging my claws in his arms to stop him but even my fingers felt heavy. He was taking too much blood. It didn't feel like he was in any rush to stop, either. I tried to build up my energy and briefly saw an image of drawing a few shadowy souls through the gold and purple barrier. I sent a wave of shock or electricity from my body into his, making him go rigid from the pain. He slowly lifted his head.

"Stop," I panted, "please. Too much."

I heard him lick his lips. He moved his hand down my neck and healed the small wounds. I felt my energy, or maybe it was his energy, returning as he unwrapped everything from me. I spun fast to slap him with the back of my hand but he caught my wrist. His eyes narrowed.

"I see I lost myself," he admitted. "My apologies, dear."

I wrenched my hand from his grip and rubbed the sore spot. I quickly locked my bedroom door behind me and huddled in the bathroom corner. I pressed my claws into my head and kept it between my knees. My body was shaking but there was a deeper, strangely more pleasant, feeling buried deep in my mind, deep in my bones, that I refused to let into the light.

****

"Why did you want me to come, boss?" Husker asked. He and Alastor were standing in the shadows of a small alley.

"Two Overlords went missing," Alastor explained, "and my contact said Blackwater is behind it."

"Who's Blackwater?"

"We're going to find out." Alastor glanced at the bar as two people walked in. "Our favorite little Dragon mentioned the name to me some time ago."

"Speaking of which, what exactly happened between you two?" 

"What do you mean?" Alastor turned back to him.

"She said something happened with you that she doesn't want to talk about, and it upset her a lot. So, what was it?"

"That is for me to know," he answered, looking back at the bar entrance.

"It would help me help her to know what exactly you did."

"As she said, it's between me and her."

"She and I are very close."

"My answer is no, Husker." He casted a red glare over his shoulder.

"I'm not above risking my life for her if you forced yourself on h—"

His green chain appeared around his neck and cut off the end of his sentence. Alastor yanked the cord and held up the shorter man so their noses were inches apart. His eyes were dark with red dials, his antlers stretching above his head.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing," he spat. "I'm disappointed you've let someone you've known for only three years sway your judgment of me." Husker had a claw on the clamp around his neck and the other at his side, desperately trying to keep his hands off his boss. "Accuse me of such a thing again and I will pry your soul out of your body and stretch it across my radio frequencies for all to hear."

Husker swallowed. "Got it."

The green light dimmed as Alastor straightened up and dissipated the chain. He fixed his coat flap and looked at the group entering the bar. He was about to move when he felt a presence on the edge of his mind. He knew it was me and willingly drew me past his shields, but still shallow enough that I couldn't see his memories. I watched the world from his eyes, thrilled at the discovery of a new skill.

That's my girl. He stiffened at his own thought. He was grateful I couldn't hear his thoughts at the level he was holding me at. He shook his head and mumbled a curse to himself. As he stepped out into the light, his Demon appearance melted away to reveal his Human one. Husker followed suite.

Alastor walked in first and Husker veered away from him a few tables in. They both ordered something from the bar but Husker found a small table in the corner to observe the room. Nothing revealed itself for half an hour. However, Alastor noticed a steady string of people entering the bar and immediately going into a side room. Two guards stood at the entrance checking a slip of paper each person or couple pulled out.

Alastor ordered a short drink and let his shadow loose. He stayed along the wall and melted with another person's shadow as they entered the room. A set of stairs stretched to his immediate right. At the base of the stairs was a small room crammed with round tables and dozens of chairs. A small, wooden stage with a red curtain stood at one end. Alastor's shadow found a perfect spot in the corner where his eyes wouldn't be noticed.

After another half hour or so, it began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have waited long enough." A man in a black suite and slick blond hair walked on stage with his arms outstretched. "Blackwater is proud to open his latest invention to his devote followers."

Well, I'm exactly where I need to be. Alastor thought to himself. 

Another man walked on stage carrying a small, metal backpack. He placed it on a round table and opened the latch, revealing a mix of wires and dark filled tubes.

"Not only is this more compact than the last version," the announcer went on, "but it provides the user another element to use." Murmurs erupted. "May I have a volunteer? Someone who wields only one element?"

No one raised a hand for moment. Then an older man, with white hair on his head and face, offered his hand. The announcer excitedly motioned him up to the stage and helped him take his coat off. He put the backpack on the old man and lifted an object to the back of his neck. The man made a pained noise as the thing hissed when it connected with his skin.

"As always, give your body a moment." The announcer helped the man into a chair the lackey pulled up. The man was visibly struggling, his body contorting inward. It lasted a minute, maybe two, before the old man was able to sit up straight. "Now, with powerful Demon's blood flowing through your veins, you can use any element you wish. Give it a try."

The old man remained in the chair but slowly lifted his hand. He casted wind around the room then a small jet of flame from his palm. He looked surprised, thrilled even, at the ability to wield more than what he was used to doing.

"No longer are we restricted to our own limits," the announcer went on. "Blackwater has made it possible to put us on the same level as every Demon. Keep this around and filled, and you'll be able to keep yourself and your family safe from any threat. How about another volunteer?"

The crowd erupted in applause and several people shouted to try. Alastor's shadow snuck back up the stairs, careful to avoid the eyes of the guards standing at the base and entrance. It slid back to its owner and melded into his Human shadow. He stood up, leaving a tip for the bartender, and casually walked out of the bar with his hands in his pockets. He went back to the alley and waited for Husker to join him a minute later.

"What was it?" Husker asked, morphing back into his Demon form as Alastor had done.

"He made a device that allows Humans to wield more magic," he answered. "Which means he used the Overlords to make it."

"He's using..." Husker fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

"We're going to wait," Alastor dictated, "and we're going to find out where his factory is."

"Why not just try to find Blackwater himself?"

"I will. But I'm going to take down his assets first."

The two of them waited for an hour before everyone dispersed from the meeting. Alastor's shadow hid easily in the dark shadows to watch the announcer leave the bar from the back door. Husker climbed onto the roofs while Alastor went to meet the man in the back street.

The light flickered over the man's head. He noticed and looked around at the empty street, seemingly aware that someone was watching him. He stuffed his phone and gloves in his pocket, fingers extended. His walk was slow, eyes scanning, as he started the walk back to his apartment.

He made it to the next street before Alastor appeared under a dim alley light. The announcer stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold. Alastor's shadow grew along the wall and opened his wide, sharp mouth in a hungry laugh.

"What do you want?" the announcer demanded. Alastor knew the tone of feigned confidence.

"I won't have to move from where I stand if you tell me where Blackwater's factories are."

"I'm more afraid of him than you. He'll kill me if I tell you anything."

Alastor clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Fortunately for me, I am about to prove you wrong."

Alastor's shadow yanked the man's foot out from under him. He dragged him down the street and pinned him against the wall. Alastor was taller now and his stitches were desperately trying to keep his limbs attached to his body. His mouth grew wider and teeth sharper, eyes turning into his usual black and red dials.

He place a huge claw over the man to further hold him in place. He curled his other claw near his face and proceeded to pull the man's living soul out of his body. The man screamed but it came from his soul, not his physical mouth. Alastor knew what the man was 'seeing'. He was watching all the other trapped souls scream and reach for him, a fresh soul with new energy. He would merge with them, melding into the hive mind and losing his individuality.

"I'll tell!" the man wailed. Alastor let go of his soul and it slingshotted back into his body. He grabbed at his chest, eyes wide, and tried to calm down. Alastor stood there and waited for the panic attack to subside. The man couldn't stop shaking and he pulled his arms and legs tight to him like a scared child.

"Go on, then. Tell me," Alastor beamed. In his usual form, he bent at the hips so his face was level with the man's. He loved this.

"He-he...he uh...the-the coordinates. Truckers give receipt..." He fumbled with his coat pockets until he drew out a crumpled piece of paper. Alsator's shadow took it from his unsteady hand and unraveled it before dropping it in his claw. Like the man said, the paper was a receipt and at the bottom was the factory name and coordinates.

"Thank you, my good man," Alastor's voice turned chipper as he looked back to the man, "Do give Blackwater my regards. I'd love to meet the big man in charge."

He slipped into the shadows to join Husker on the rooftop. He grabbed his coworker's shoulder and focused, mind fixed on the image of the world. He found the coordinates, surprisingly not far from where they stood, and teleported them. He climbed through the shadows to enter the small factory and watched from a dark corner.

Belts of machinery were stretched across the whole factory. Workers stood on the side inspecting or crafting the pieces. There were at least fifty currently being worked on and there was a stack of crates in the one corner where the trucks picked them up. He continued to look around, mostly in search for Blackwater himself or the Overlords he had captured. Yet neither was here. He would have to find his other factories.

It took nothing for Alastor to start a fire. The workers attempted to put it out but they were all Humans with Slight magic. The fire grew too much for them to handle, forcing them to leave the factory to save their own lives. He melted the foundation and watched the whole thing topple inward on itself.

He appeared next to Husker who was hiding in the safety of the forest's shadows. "Satisfied?" Husker quirked an eyebrow up at him.

"I will once this man is dead," Alastor said. "I need to speak with the other Overlords. I need to know who let him get to this point unnoticed and unchecked."

"I'm sure that'll go well."

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

Author's Note:

I noticed that I was a bit more sadistic in the very first chapters of this series and needed a small taste of it again. I sure hope you all enjoyed the taste of 2 chapters :P

[moonlightdancer26]

can you show me where in the books it implies/says that sirius was abused? /gen I honestly don't remember, all I recall is him saying his mother didn't like that he was in gryffindor and not a blood purist etc and they fought often bc of it.

Allow me:


Kreacher bowed again and said, “Whatever Master says,” then muttered furiously, “Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother’s boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was —” (OOTP, Chapter 6) 
  
“Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . . that’s him.”

“He was younger than me,” said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.” (OOTP Chapter 6) (Being consistently reminded that your younger brother is so much better than you because he’s a pureblood supremacist? Ouch)


“It was my father’s,” said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. “Kreacher wasn’t quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father’s old trousers last week.” (OOTP Chapter 4) 


“He’s [Kreacher] been alone too long,” said Sirius, “taking mad orders from my mother’s portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little —” (Sirius about Kreacher, OOTP Chapter 6) 


 “I don’t know,” said Sirius, “I haven’t seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they’re all busy. It’s just been Kreacher and me here . . .” 
There was a definite note of bitterness in Sirius’s voice. (OOTP Chapter 14) 

Hasn’t anyone told you? This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” 
Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius’s voice sounded. (Chapter 5)

Sirius heaved another great sigh, cast a dark look at the tapestry, and he and Harry went to join the others. (Chapter 6) 

“I don’t like being back here,” he said, staring across the drawing room. “I never thought I’d be stuck in this house again.” (Sirius, OOTP Chapter 6)


I mentioned Sirius’s mental state and bitterness a lot here because I don’t have a doubt that being stuck in his childhood home where he was clearly very “mistreated” made it much harder for him. He showed blatant signs of alcoholism, depression, and PTSD. Many people brush this off as him “being moody that he’s being quarantined and therefore acting out in childish and frustrating ways,” which is true, but I think it’s seriously (no pun intended) disregarding of what he was going through. This happens to be the book where Sirius annoys me the absolute most, and while I don’t think having gone through something like that justifies your later behaviour; I really try to understand and sympathise with what he went through and how he acted because of it. He spent a majority of his life being trapped: being trapped in his parents’ house as a kid/teen (where he later ran away), being framed and wrongfully sent to Azkaban for over a decade (where he escaped), escaping Azkaban only to be forced to stay at his parents’ home, and then having the only time he left the house resulting in getting murdered in front of his godson. 😀

Anyway, seeing people brush off the blatant emotional and mental abuse he went through simply because it “wasn’t physical” (abuse comes in many forms, just because he wasn’t abused in “that way” doesn’t mean he wasn’t abused in “this way”) or because they don’t like him is extremely disgusting. Especially considering that I not only went through something extremely similar with my mother when I was a kid, but because the Snapedom has to constantly ask of Snape antis to merely not dismiss the fact that Snape was abused. You cannot criticise the Marauders fandom for doing things like that and simultaneously doing the same thing to the characters you hate. Double standards as a whole infuriate me, no matter which “side” of the fandom I’m on. If you have a rule, stick with it.

All of the quotes I’ve mentioned are from Order of the Phoenix, I just added the chapters. I’ve had these saved in Notes in case I needed to whip out receipts for arguments. But thank you for your question, Nonnie, I’ve been meaning to talk about this.

[ainarosewood]

Rage

FFxivWrite2024 Day 8 Prompt: Free Write

In the back of Ruru's mind she knew full well this was stupid that she shouldn't be doing it like this. But the Garlean bastard's complete dismissal of her allies combined with seeing Y'shtola prone coated in blood unmoving had made her blood boil. In an instant she had snatched her Red Mage soul stone from her pouch and her aether flared violently reflecting the rage she felt as she lunged forward recklessly striking with everything she had.

The fact that the crown prince seemed completely bored with her vicious onslaught only infuriated her further, causing her to completely lose her head in battle. Something that small part of her brain was screaming at her for it. This was a greenhorn mistake and she knew it but she ignored that little voice in favor of showing this asshole that they were a force to be reckoned with.

She continued striking and the prince finally seemed to have enough for he blasted her back with a burst of artificially created aether then lunged at her slashing down with his katana. As the red hot pain flashed through her breaking her reckless rage she swore he heard Tal's voice shouting "Ru No!" With that she tried to call up the Shield of Light to deflect the backstroke of the katana which she found her reflexes just slightly too slow to prevent the damage but just quick enough to deflect most of it.

Once the prince finished his strikes he started to sneer at her until his katana broke in half. He then straightened and turned and walked away the Skulls slinking off with him. Ruru knelt there panting as Raubahn rushed up and she saw him briefly look like he was going to draw on the crown prince but seeing her down severely wounded and several other wounded he stayed his hand and asked, "Are ye hurt lass?"

"Mostly my pride," she wheezed as the Serpent conjurer who had ran up with the general began to heal her. She reached into her pouch and grabbed her White Mage stone shifted to the class and waved the conjurer off saying, "I've got myself. See to her shes worse!"

With that she pointed to Y'shtola who now had both Alphinaud and Krile at her side with Krile healing her and Alphinaud taking care of Conrad. The conjurer looked torn for only a moment before nodding and rushing to aid Krile.

Ruru then focused and quickly closed her wounds before pushing herself up and running over too. Krile barely started to ask before she started pouring healing into the prone Miqo'te. She channeled the energies trying to focus on the woman she saw before her pushing the image of a different Miqo'te lying there from her mind.

This will be different, she will live. She has to live! she told herself silently as she and Krile together slowly closed the wounds to a point where Shtola could be safely moved. As everyone prepared to move out Ruru followed slowly mentally berating herself

That was so stupid. I know better than to just charge in like that! What the hell was I thinking.

Deep down she knew what happened. She hadn't been thinking, she just wanted to hurt the bastard for being so dismissive and hurting people overtly for the sake of it. It sickened her to her core that someone could be like that.

For her entire life she had strove to protect people to save them from the dangers of the world. When she fought a foe she tried to make the battle quick and concise. Desiring only to end the threat be it driving them off or if necessary killing them. The Lalafell was not a fan of killing unless absolutely necessary. Killing to hunt for food sure was definitely she didn't hesitate with. Killing to protect people from harm absolutely would do if necessary. But she never once wanted to kill just for the "fun" or "thrill" of it.

The fact that he thought to compare them, to claim they were the same infuriated her almost as much as his dismissal of everyone had. She trudged along after the group as they fell back to Castrum Oriens her entire body aching from her wounds but she didn't bother with any furthering healing on them. Nothing was life threatening and the pain was a good reminder not to be stupid as she had told many a green adventurer who had gotten hurt due to stupidity.

Several times the Serpent Conjurer Vounex tried to come up to further heal her, But she waved him off each time in favor for one of the Ala Mhigans from Rhalgar's Reach. She knew deep down he was simply doing his job but she felt his energies better spent on the others. She had healed herself enough to keep going.

We're gonna need to figure out what were going to do now. So many were felled in that fight and those that weren't are in no condition to fight. she thought to herself as they walked, We're gonna need allies….the Far East maybe? Im sure Doma is itching to throw of the imperial yoke and a fight on both fronts for the Garleans will force em to streatch their forces thin.

She made up her mind long before they reached the Castrum she would suggest if not insist that they take the fight to Doma. It would be a good way to weaken the Garlean's holds on both regions and gain them like minded allies.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Fictober 2024 ~ 18

"you always have a plan"

Fanfiction: DA2 I'm stubborn and refuse to skip a prompt even if I'm struggling with something to come up with, but I will continue. Can also be found on Ao3

Seth struggled against the rope cutting into his wrists. There were several templars patrolling the small shack in which he had been captured. From their whispers to each other that they thought were hidden from Seth, he gathered they were not part of the same sect of templars in Kirkwall. At least, if they were, they were not happy with Meredith’s command. Still, the fact that they caught him off-guard and dragged him to a shack in the middle of the woods was surprising. 

The templar that stood guard over him actively radiated with a power that dulled Seth’s magic. Seth didn’t mind because it seemed to not fully effect him. However, if he wanted to escape, he would have had to use blood magic. There were about twenty templars in the shack with him with a few more patrolling outside. Seth really had no idea why there were so many, nor why they had deigned to capture the Champion of Kirkwall, or what they were waiting for. They all ignored Seth when he spoke, not even glaring his direction. 

So the mage had slumped against the wall with a grouchy look on his face. He was certain his friends would find him; at least Anders would have raised some concern once Seth had not visited him at least once today. 

He didn’t know how long time passed but he heard a slight commotion outside of the shack. Then the door burst open and a frantic templars shouted to his companions. “There’s an abomination outside! Quickly, defenses!” 

Most of the templars unsheathed their swords immediately and followed their comrade. That left about five. Seth could easily take them. 

He begun to use the claw of his gauntlet to scratch into his skin, angling his bound wrists so that his finger could reach the bare expanse of forearm he had. However, before he could even draw enough blood to do anything, the door swung back open and three of the guards fell with crossbow bolts in their throats. A figure with a sword and shield ran in and easily cut the last two templars who were surprised at the quickness of their comrades’ deaths. 

Once the sword and shield figured killed the last templar, they rose and headed towards Seth. He relaxed once he saw the fiery red hair of Aveline and her freckled face. There was a smile on her face as she leaned down next to him. “So,” she began, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes, “how’d this happen.” She motioned to the templars. Varric came into the shack as she did, the dwarf reloading his crossbow. 

Seth shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” Aveline just chuckled slightly before reaching towards Seth’s back and cutting his ropes. She offered a hand and helped him up. Seth rubbed his wrists and nodded his head in thanks. “You always have a plan,” he said. 

Aveline shook her head. “Not my plan. Your lover’s plan.”

Varric chuckled. “You should have seen the concern and anger on Blondie’s face when he came to find us.” 

“Wait,” Seth looked at the door of the shack. “Are you telling me he’s out there fighting twenty templars by himself?”

“Well, Justice is.” 

Seth didn’t hear the next thing Varric was about to say before he was already out of the shack. There were templar bodies all around the front of the shack and he could hear the sounds of fighting. He looked to the right and saw Anders in the midst of the templars, skin cracked with blue glowing lines and his eyes raging blue fire. The templars were trying to use their powers against Anders, but to no avail. 

Seth grabbed a sword from one of the templars and began running to his love, cutting down two templars on his way. He grabbed the air around another and slammed them down with force, cracking their bones. He used his force magic to push the other templars slowly overwhelming Anders away. The firey eyes of Justice met with Seth’s for a moment before turning around and finishing another templar behind him. 

Varric and Aveline joined the fray, but there wasn’t much left to kill before the fight settled. Seth dropped his stolen templar sword and looked at Anders. The spirit’s eyes flickered out and Anders golden-amber eyes returned, full of relief as he ran towards Seth and crushed him in a hug. Seth merely smiled and held his love in his arms. 

Anders pulled back, hands still on Seth’s shoulders and looked him over. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Suddenly, Seth felt the cool and soothing magic of healing wash over his body, closing up a tiny wound on his arm. 

He merely let out a chuckle and put his hand on Anders’s cheek. “I’m fine love. Promise.” 

“Do you have any idea why these templars captured you?” Aveline asked.

Seth shrugged, turning to look at her, but taking Anders’s hand in his. “They weren’t part of Meredith’s flock, that’s for sure. They were talking shit about her the entire time.” 

“Maybe they were,” Varric countered, “but didn’t like how she’s running things.” 

“Still, to capture the Champion of Kirkwall is a bold move,” Aveline frowned, crossing her arms. 

Seth rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, we know Meredith would lock me up the chance she could.” 

“She would have more issues on her hands,” Anders replied. “The people of Kirkwall look up to you, even if you are a mage.” 

Varric nodded. “It’s true. You would not believe how many people are talking about wanting you to become viscount.” 

There was a moment of silence before Seth let out a confused laugh. “Yeah right. That’d bring the entire Chantry down on Kirkwall.” 

Aveline shrugged. “I’d prefer you over any of the snobbish nobles that may take up the position. Definitely more than Meredith.” 

Seth shook his head. “Yeah I don’t really feel like having the Chantry blow a fuse because a mage became the ruling figure of Kirkwall.” 

Anders chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time, considering Kirkwall was once part of the Imperium.” 

Seth just shook his head again, but smiled. “How about we put Varric up there instead.” 

The dwarf’s smile dropped and he rapidly shook his head. “Oh no, nuh uh. I am not going anywhere near that office.”

The others laughed and began to make their way back to Kirkwall. 

[wastheheart]

[ OVERSTIMULATED ]:  sender  repeatedly  making  receiver  orgasm. (Carlisle)

Carlisle said he would take her here once the dust had settled, and he had delivered. The white sands of her island were warm against the bottoms of her feet, the water cool but not freezing. Esme had missed the serenity and calmness it ushered in, particularly when at Carlisle's side.

Luckily, it was also remote. The only individuals here were her and Carlisle, and he was intent on abusing that fact.

The steam of the shower made it hard to see him, but Carlisle didn't particularly care. In fact, it added to the intensity of her pleasure as he sat her on the seat of the shower, finding his knees before her as if he were worshipping at an altar. There was no mercy to be found here.

Carlisle's tongue ran between her folds, her taste mixing with the water and soap which had started this entire endeavour. Esme's arm reached out, her palm hitting the glass of the shower door and leaving her handprint there as she rolled her hips and cried his name. It didn't take long for her to cum against his tongue, cursing and bucking her hips wildly, but Carlisle wasn't just intent with one orgasm.

Without even giving her a chance to come down, he coaxed two fingers inside, curling them upwards and drawing the most beautiful sounds from an equally beautiful wife. Esme couldn't help the way her growls accentuated the air, the bathroom enhancing their lovemaking with its acoustics.

Forcibly, but gently, Carlisle coaxed her onto her knees so his fingers could get deeper. He added two more, releasing his own growl against her ear as he felt her slide back onto them. He smirked a little with the realisation that he wasn't entirely responsible for the state of his wife. In fact, as if to make a point, he ceased the pumping of his fingers and let her hips do the work as she pushed herself towards another orgasm.

His cock was painfully hard, but he refused to let himself or Esme touch it just yet. The precum mixed with the water, dripping from the tip of his cock with every sound his wife made. He couldn't help the way it twitched as she pulsed around his fingers, her cum coating them in glossy white.

He only paused to lick them clean before coaxing his wife's hips upwards and pushing into her with one, swift movement.

Esme's breath caught in her throat as he started to pump into her. He was relentless; she was still clenching around nothing, riding out her last orgasm when he pushed himself into her unannounced.

Shifting positions again, Carlisle now sat, purposely lifting his wife up and down his cock. His moans mingled with her, his fangs ghosting the skin of her neck as he watched her take him to the base and back up to the tip. One hand only let go of her hips to rub circles against her clit; it was enough for Esme to convulse around him, her walls clenching and wishing he would follow, but Carlisle was still far from done.

In amongst the throes of her orgasm, his teeth pierced her neck and he greedily welcomed the sweetness of her blood against his tongue and coating his throat as she continued to work him, his hips now roughly meeting her movements.

Esme's walls clenched desperately around him, Carlisle's bite not letting her relax once. Instead she continued cumming, her mouth agape in a silent scream as the sound of their union replaced previous moaning.

His fingers curled into her sides tighter, forcing her across his cock harder and faster, Esme's cum having coated him entirely, dripping between the insides of her thighs and the scent causing Carlisle to go absolutely wild. He was an animalistic predator at the end of the day and Esme wanted him to use her as such.

He retracted his fangs, running his tongue over the skin of her neck to heal puncture wounds and changed their position once more.

The heat of the shower was replaced by the coolness of the countertop, Esme's back against the mirror of the bathroom as he watched himself pulse in and out of her. They would probably end up needing to replace the bathroom, but he didn't care.

"C-Carlisle, I can't," Esme whimpered, her palm against his chest.

His smile came in reply, eyebrows raising, "yes you can. You've already been such a good girl for me, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now, would you?"

Esme whimpered, her arm falling so she could grip the edges of the counter. And Carlisle continued, unrelenting in his pace and roughness. His hands came to squeeze the softness of her breasts, pinching nipples between fingers with a roughness very rarely seen, and soon enough Esme's eyes were rolling back into her head.

"That's it, baby," he growled, slamming into her as his orgasm grew close, "cum over me. Cum just for me."

Her tightness around him finally ensured his own release. It seemed the stress and anxieties coupled with the lack of release had him cumming for hours, relentlessly pumping himself into her as his seed spilled inside her, her walls helping pump him dry.

One final roll of his hips, and Carlisle rested, his head against Esme's shoulder as she shuddered around him. She was overstimulated, he could tell, but god she was so beautiful when coming undone around him.

He remained there until she settled, pulling out swiftly in one brief movement before whisking her into the bedroom and pulling her against his chest.

"Was that okay, my love?" he asked quietly, lips pressing against the back of her right shoulder.

Esme snorted somewhat, pushing back into her husband so he could hold her tighter. "Perhaps we should schedule it in again for tomorrow; there's plenty of places we could go and scenery to appreciate, after all."

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

[gumballavocadoharry]

Blood test crush:

Laurie was sitting in the waiting room of the clinic with her dad Harry. She scanned the room as adrenaline inside her built up the more time passed, awaiting her turn for the thing that she dreaded the most....needles.

To be more specific, blood draws, shots, needle pricks were all the things she hated. Trypanophobia may have been inside her. Harry put a hand on Laurie's knee. "It'll be okay love, it'll be over before you know it. And then we can get lunch." Harry knew just how bad his daughter's fear was. Ever since she was a baby she struggled with getting anything inserted into her if it had a needle on it. The only exception was getting her ears pierced. She practically forced herself to tolerate it due to it being something she really wanted.

Laurie's deep breathes didn't help her calm down about her appointment, but the auburn haired and honey eyed guy in nurses scrubs did.

"Laurie?" he called, scanning the room for his next patient. Laurie ejected from her seat and ran up to him like she was racing through the Olympics. 

Everything seemed perfect, until the concern of her father's echoed through the waiting room. "Baby did you want me to go back with you?" Laurie was quick to reject the offer and followed the hunk back to the assigned room. "Okay, I'm gonna draw some blood okay?" Laurie eagerly nodded as he flashed a smile to her which made her cheeks sting.

Normally she would be clinging to her father's hand, sweating spuriously as she would be scared to death of the needle piercing. But all of a sudden this was a dream. She didn't care about the blood draw so much as she cared for the nurse doing it. Her eyes gazed upon him in a welcoming way.

A small knock on the door interrupted the exchange between the two. In poked Harry who waltzed over to Laurie much to her horror. "Hi" Harry introduced himself to the lab technician. He took a seat on the bench like seat next to Laurie and wrapped his arm around her. "Just making sure my baby's alright." Laurie's face blushed. She couldn't bare to look at the nurse.

The nurse cleaned her arm and took the cap off the needle. As if she wasn't embarrassed enough by her father's presence, of course he wasn't done. 

"Now sweetie, you can hold my hand if you're scared." Harry pressed continuous kisses to the temple of Laurie's head.

"I'm right here cuddle bug." Harry cooed. The nurse smiled at the cute little interaction between Harry and his daughter, but Laurie thought that it was anything but cute. The nurse inserted the needle into Laurie's arm, making Laurie flinch a little. "You're doing good sweetie." The nurse said while filling up three tubes. Laurie blushed at the little nickname "sweetie" that she was called by the handsome man. The lust she felt infatuated her emotions with him. He affectionately pet named her other than her dad.

Harry rubbed her back and hugged her. Laurie in a last resort still tried to seem mature despite Harry being there.

She tried to smile and make eye contact with him as she felt she could seeing how he wasn't much older than her. But her attempts were futile.

Harry couldn't stop 'consoling' her in a way that Laurie found babyish. And it was. Once it was over and Lauren picked her bandage color, Harry swooped her up in his arms and gave her a big kiss and hug. "You're my big girl aren't you?" Harry cooed. Lauren face was beet red and painfully glanced over to the smiling nurse in which she gave a tight embarrassed smile back. "See that wasn't so bad was it?" Laurie didn't respond...she didn't have to, her father grabbed her and squeezed her into a hug. "My little trooper." 

While walking out to the car, Laurie was very quiet until Harry broke the ice. He grabbed her hand. "Dad I was just fine on my own." The young lady blurted out. Harry gave a sheepish smile.

"I was worried. I didn't want you to be scared, and I just wanted to support you." Laurie smiled knowing she couldn't stay mad at her dad forever. In fact she was lucky to have him.

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Curses, Confessions

Summary: Eda just wanted some apple blood, but instead she has a run in with someone she hasn't seen in months.

Eda had to admit, she wasn’t exactly a huge fan of living on her own.

It’s not like she was going home.  Not after what she’d done to her father.  Not after hearing the lengths her mother would be willing to go to in order to get rid of her curse.  Not after everything.

The human world would be fine.  She didn’t hate it here, even if living on her own was harder.  But she could find things to sell that meant she wouldn’t starve.  Humans were gullible, they’d buy anything with a little illusion magic.  Most witches would too.  And to think, she’d wanted to join a coven once.

That didn’t mean there weren’t people— things about home that she missed, when she was away.  Like… like apple blood.  Yeah.  The human “apple juice” was ridiculously inferior.  She had to go home for the good stuff.

Which is why she found herself here.

She hadn’t made enough money this week, so if she was going to get apple blood, she’d have to steal it.  She didn’t have any moral problems with that, of course, just practical ones.  Like the fact that the stand was sitting right out in the open in a street that was currently fairly empty.

Eda had been holed up in the alleyway nearby most of the morning, waiting for a good moment.

“You here for this?” a voice asked, and Eda yelped and spun around, already drawing up a defensive spell before she saw who was standing at the other end of the alleyway.

Well, this was a whole other problem now.

Eda turned to run, but Raine had always been faster than her, and frankly, they were probably in better shape, meaning they tackled and pinned her pretty easily.  And well, Eda had always had a rule about fighting Raine.

She huffed and flopped down against the ground.  Fine.  She could wait this out.

Raine set the apple blood in front of them both, just out of her reach.  “You can have it if you answer my questions,” they said.

“That’s just rude,” Eda grumbled, trying to wiggle towards it, but Raine had her trapped.

“No, what’s rude is disappearing from school without a word and then forcing me to find out you ran away from Lilith.  Lilith,” Raine said.  “Come on, Eda.  What on earth is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Eda said.  “I just got bored of having to deal with all the stupid structure.”

“Don’t try to lie to me Eda, I know you too well,” Raine snapped, dragging her further away from the apple blood despite Eda’s noise of complaint.

“Come on,” Raine said, and oh boy.  That was their gentle voice.  “What’s going on with you?  Why would you vanish?  Why wouldn’t you tell me?  Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not,” Eda said despite herself.  “It’s not you, it’s—”  She looked up towards Raine— only to see their smug look and realize that they’d successfully gotten her talking.

“Oh, you little— shut up,” Eda said, flopping down on the ground again.

“Tell me what’s going on then,” Raine said.

“Nothing.”

“Then why did Lilith say you were cursed?”

“Because Lilith’s a snitch, that’s why,” Eda snapped, not allowing the statement to phase her.  “If you knew that, why are you asking me what happened?”

“So the curse is why you ran away,” Raine said, and damn them, they did know her too well.

“I didn’t say that,” Eda said.

“Yes you did.  You might as well have.  What is going on?”

“You know what’s going on, I got cursed,” Eda said.  “Now give me the apple blood and let me go.”

“Who cursed you?”

“I don’t know.  Give me the apple blood.”

“Why would you care that you got cursed?  You’re going to let that stop you?”

“Shut up,” Eda snapped, managing to grab ahold of Raine’s arm and yank it hard enough to get across that that question was off limits.

“Ow, Eda!”

Eda let go.  She still couldn’t handle hurting Raine.  She’d never been able to.

“Eda,” Raine said, using their damn gentle voice again.  “Do you need help?”

“I’m helping myself,” Eda said.  “I’m fine.”

“Right, that’s why you’re stealing apple blood.”

Eda huffed and didn’t reply.

“Are you going to talk to me, Eda?” Raine asked.  “I miss you, you know.”

Damn them, damn them, damn them.

Eda pulled her arms out from under her so she could bury her head in them.  “How much did Lilith tell you?”

“She told me about the owl beast,” Raine said gently, finally climbing off of Eda, but not before grabbing the apple blood and holding onto it themself.  Eda sat up and scooted over towards the wall.  “And that you ran away, and… what happened with your dad.”

“Great, remind me to kill her if I ever see her again,” Eda grumbled, resting her head on her knees.

“Eda,” Raine said, sounding concerned.

Eda groaned, and glared over at Raine.  But she couldn’t hold their gaze for more than a second before she glared away again.  “Just stop,” she mumbled.  “I don’t want to tell you.”  She looked slightly towards Raine without meeting their eyes again.  “Not yet.”  That would pacify them for now.

Raine was quiet for a minute before they passed over the apple blood, which Eda started drinking greedily.  “Okay,” they said quietly.  “Just don’t disappear again.  I’ll miss you too much.”

Eda swallowed a lump in her throat.  “That’s cause you’re a wimp,” she said weakly.  “Unlike you, I don’t need anyone.”

Raine didn’t reply.  Then, after a second, they reached out and wrapped their arms around Eda, and Eda’s breath caught.

“Do you want to stay with me?” Raine asked.

Images of Dad flashed through Eda’s head, and then the face morphed into Raine, and she couldn’t—

“No,” she said firmly, hating the wobble in her voice.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Eda said, and Raine didn’t say anything in response, because she was right.

“Let me help you figure something out then.  Let me help you find a place to stay that isn’t… wherever you’re staying.”

“And how are you supposed to do that?” Eda asked.

“I don’t know.  My Dad has some ties in the construction coven.  Let me call in a favor, we’ll build you a house.”

“Raine,” Eda said, starting to shake her head.

“Eda, please,” Raine said, and Eda was surprised to hear desperation in their voice.  “Just let me help you a little.”

Eda swallowed another lump in her throat.  She wasn’t going to cry, not in front of Raine.

“Okay,” she whispered.  “Just this once.”

Raine let out a breath of relief and held her tighter.  And if Eda melted into the hug a little bit, well.  Hopefully she could count on Raine to be better with secrets than her sister.

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times. 

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable? 

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try.  Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--

[a-flickering-soul]

EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)

Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.

(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)

1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies

The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:

"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"

EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":

A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"

Parallels drawn:

Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.

2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase

"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:

"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."

EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”

A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"

The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):

“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”

EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:

A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”

Parallels drawn:

The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.

3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness

The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:

The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”

The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”

Parallels drawn:

Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.

4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”

Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:

A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.

Parallels drawn:

On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?

5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act

EverymanHybrid, “:D”:

A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”

EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:

A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.

Parallels drawn:

The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.

Works Cited

Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC

Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].

Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.

Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.

Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.

Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral

[mustardyellowsunshine]

When the End Comes, II

(Chapter 1)

A/N: I was going to wait to post this until next weekend, but y'know what? Consider it a holiday special. Happy Labor Day.

_______________________________________________________

Chapter 2: Exeunt

The hell I am!

Kagome rammed her knee at the man’s groin. He blocked it by swiftly maneuvering his thigh. She swung her elbow up between their bodies, aiming for his face. His hand left her shoulder, darting sideways to seize her elbow midswing. His hand was so big his fingers circled all the way around her arm, squeezing in a painful grip.

She reared her head back, fully intending to bash her forehead into his nose—but he yanked hard on her elbow and she lost her footing, falling forward into his body. She felt the hand covering her mouth glide purposefully across her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair and cupping her skull just behind her ear. His thumb was poised at the side of her neck, sharp claw digging into the skin over her jugular vein.

To anyone else on the street it probably looked like a lover’s embrace: their chests pressed together, his hand around her arm as though drawing her closer, the side of his face resting against her temple, mouth near her ear.

They wouldn’t, of course, see his claw breaking the skin of her neck, a streak of blood trickling down past her shirt collar.

“Listen,” he growled, breath gusting over her ear as he pressed his claw that much harder into her skin. “How about you don’t make a scene, and I don’t slice your jugular where you stand. Sound fair?”

She froze against him.

He twitched his thumb, widening the cut. It stung like hell. She could feel the warmth of her own blood rolling sluggishly down her collar bone.

“You gonna be reasonable, or does this have to get messy?”

He sounded almost bored as he said it, as though he didn’t care one way or the other. It sent chills down Kagome’s spine.

She risked a tiny turn of her chin, just enough so she could sweep her gaze up and down the street. None of the people bustling by paid them any attention. In fact, it almost seemed as if people tried to avoid looking at them, turning their gazes away and hurrying past.

No one liked watching PDA, after all.

That’s why he’d done it, Kagome realized. Yanked her against him like that. He’d tried to make them as invisible as he could in the middle of a city street.

So he probably wasn’t an idiot. Dammit.

Kagome slowly exhaled. “And you think killing me here won’t make a scene?” she asked in an undertone.

He twitched his thumb again. She winced at the tearing sensation.

“Heh,” he husked against her ear, “I’d be blocks away before your body even hit the ground.”

He didn’t say the rest, but Kagome heard the subtext loud and clear: he was going to avoid a scene—it was up to her whether she was alive or dead to help him do it.

So much for the safety of being in public.

Her brain ran some rapidfire calculus. Setting aside whether he might be bluffing, Kagome was certain at least that he was capable of doing what he threatened. He clearly had yōkai speed and strength. As quickly as she could draw in the breath needed to shout for help, he could plunge that claw into her jugular, slit her throat wide open. She had no way of knowing if he would: all she knew was that he could.

Grinding her molars together until they hurt, Kagome hissed, “Fine. I’ll do as you say.”

The stinging pain in her neck eased away, sharp claw replaced by the pad of his thumb resting against her bloodied skin. “At least you’re not completely stupid.” The fingers in her hair squeezed against her scalp as he said gruffly, “Listen good. You and I are about to be a couple strolling the town. You’re gonna put your arm around me, nice and easy, and you’re going to smile and put that pretty face to good use. Make a nice show for the people, understand?” She felt the barest prick of claws against her scalp as he added, “You even think about screaming, or running, and it won’t go well for you.”

She couldn’t manage to push words out of her throat, so she just nodded once.

“Good. Now—start acting the part.”

Keeping his grip around her elbow, he took a step back. Gold eyes glinted at her in the afternoon light, hard and unyielding.

Taking in a shaky breath, Kagome forced her lips up into a wooden smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

His arm snaked around her waist, tugging her against his side. Then he forced her into an about-face and practically frogmarched her down the street.

She felt the tips of those yōkai nails through her shirt, just above and to the side of her navel. Someone passing by would have thought he was caressing her, perhaps. But Kagome couldn’t help thinking about the vital internal organs in that area of the body, and gulped.

She was staring straight ahead of her, neck and shoulders rigid as cement, her steps jerky and fumbling as his arm forced her forward. She tried to think. What could she use, what distraction or blind spot could she exploit? He wasn’t the first of Naraku’s hunters to find her. She’d gotten away from them before. She just needed to capitalize on the right opportunity.

Suddenly he growled under his breath, “This how you think couples act, sweetheart?” He injected an acerbic bite into the last word. “Get your shoulders down from around your ears and act fucking normal.”

She glared at him from the corner of her eye. His jaw was clenched, his mouth twisted in irritation, revealing an inhumanly sharp canine. “Maybe,” she said, “acting normal would be easier for me if I wasn’t being abducted.”

Suddenly his nails were digging into her stomach, slicing through the fabric of her shirt to scratch at the skin beneath. They didn’t cut — yet.

“Dammit,” she hissed, trying to jerk away from his fingers, which only brought her into closer contact with his body, “don’t—”

“I already told you how this was going down,” he replied, lip lifting in a snarl, “so get with the program or I can end you right here.”

His tone was so biting, edged with a genuine fury—yet there was an undertone of something else in it, too. Something Kagome couldn’t place.

“Now fucking smile and act like you’re having a good time,” he said, arm heavy around her waist.

Even while Kagome did as she was told—stiffly sliding her hand across his back as she’d seen couples do before, slinging her arm loosely around his hips—something in the back of her mind clicked into place.

That undertone in his voice. It was fear. Thoroughly buried beneath anger and volatility, maybe, but fear nonetheless. She should know: she’d heard it in her own voice for years.

He didn’t actually care about convincing random strangers that they were a happy couple. Why should he? It didn’t make sense. Most people weren’t paying attention to them, anyway. He didn’t have to work this hard to fly under their radar. And though she hated to admit it, he’d said it himself: he could have either slaughtered her or made off with her in a heartbeat if he’d wanted, and likely no one on the street would’ve been the wiser. So if he wasn’t avoiding a scene for the sake of fooling bystanders, why was he?

Maybe he was worried about avoiding someone else. A specific someone.

A chill rippled through her body at the thought, but in the same moment, Kagome knew she had her opportunity. Time to make hay with it.

Kagome casually angled her head towards him, so he could get a good view of her face. She directed her gaze over his shoulder, as though she was observing the storefronts across the street. After a few moments of this, she deliberately widened her eyes, dropping her jaw open in a quiet gasp.

He took the bait. His head whipped around in the direction she was looking.

She dropped down, twisted her body, and slammed her fist into his kidney.

His body flinched hard, and she heard him groan, but by then she’d already spun out of his hold.

Turning in the direction of her car, she ran like her life depended on it.

[kingandfireheart]

The Lady of the Autumn Court: what the fuck is happening in Autumn (part 2)

As I said in my Eris Vanserra post, it seems that the Lady of the Autumn Court is a bigger piece to the Eris and Lucien puzzles.

We don't know what the fuck has been happening in the Forest House but we do the following:

The Lady of the Autumn Court is/was extremely powerful

Lucien (and to some extent Eris) are mama's boys (even though Lucien has been exiled for centuries)

The Lady met Helion before she was married to Beron

At least one of the seven brothers - Lucien - is Helion's child, but Helion saved the Lady after she had already had some kids (so Eris probably isn't his, even though they both have amber eyes)

The Lady chose to stay with Beron

Beron is aware of the affair between Helion and the Lady

Beron is physically abusive towards the Lady and had tortured Eris

Helion does not know Lucien is his heir, but Eris seems to know Lucien isn't Beron's son

Things that aren't mentioned below the cut, but are interesting:

Eris is the ringleader of the brothers, the commander of Beron's forces, and is Beron's most trusted son (the other three don't even have names)

In ACOWAR, Eris says has never denied Beron anything - except to save Lucien - but is angling for the throne and betraying him in ACOFAS and ACOSF (this reminds me of Lorcan betraying Maeve for her own good in TOG)

Beron wanted to kill Lucien for wanting to leave Autumn and marry Jesminda (this doesn't seem like a good reason if he isn't in line for the throne - or isn't part of their bloodline, but I guess Beron doesn't need a reason to be cruel)

Helion alludes to having trouble at home in ACOSF

The remaining unnamed brothers are all angling for the throne (this reminds me of the Khaganate in TOG and the Cruel Prince)

I got a little carried away with the color coding, but here's every major scene involving and discussing the Lady of the Autumn Court (and some breadcrumbs because I'm convinced SJM is purposeful in her writing)

Rhysand uses the Lady of the Autumn Court taunt Lucien in ACOTAR:

Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

The Lady of the Autumn Court also helps Feyre with one of her tasks:

A door clicked open somewhere down the hall, and I shot to my feet. An auburn head peered at me. I sagged with relief. Lucien— Not Lucien. The face that turned toward me was female—and unmasked. She looked perhaps a bit older than Amarantha, but her porcelain skin was exquisitely colored, graced with the faintest blush of rose along her cheeks. Had the red hair not been indication enough, when her russet eyes met mine, I knew who she was. I bowed my head to the Lady of the Autumn Court, and she inclined her chin slightly. I supposed that was honor enough. “For giving her your name in place of my son’s life,” she said, her voice as sweet as sun-warmed apples. She must have been in the crowd that day. She pointed at the bucket with a long, slender hand. “My debt is paid.” She disappeared through the door she’d opened, and I could have sworn I smelled roasting chestnuts and crackling fires in her wake.

Rhys (while wearing the mask of hte High Lord) uses her to taunt Lucien again in ACOMAF:

“Little Lucien,” Rhys purred. “Didn’t the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?”

“Prick,” Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. “You filthy, whoring prick.”

Lucien explaining how he was treated since Beron may suspect he's Helion's heir and as we know from Tamlin: future high lords have physical markers:

His jaw tightened. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

This may not relate to the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship with Helion, but I'm gathering all the crumbs (why does Eris hesitate before calling his brothers brothers?)

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

Eris has no love for Beron (he literally asks Rhys to kill him), but he does seem to protect the Lady during the High Lord's Meeting:

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

Helion and Lady of Autumn lock eyes:

The violence simmering off my friends was enough to boil the pool at our toes as the High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his sons in rank behind him, his wife—Lucien’s mother—at his side. Her russet eyes scanned the room, as if looking for that missing son.

They settled instead on Helion, who gave her a mocking incline of his dark head. She quickly averted her gaze.

The High Lords discuss the past war:

(also reminder: Eris has Amber Eyes like Helion)

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. “Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.” His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. “Surely your northern neighbors will welcome them.”

Beron’s lip curled. “We do not have the resources for such a thing.”

“Right,” Viviane said, “because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.”

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. “Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.”

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. “If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.”

“Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,” Beron counted coolly. “A young, pretty thing like you especially.”

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl.

Beron smiled a bit. “Only three of us were present for the last war.” A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. “One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.” He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. “Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.” Helion was watching Beron closely, his stare simmering with reproach.

The Lady of the Autumn Court kept her focus on the reflection pool. Any trace of color drained from her face. Dagdan and Brannagh flashed through my mind—along with the corpses of those humans. What they’d done to them before and after they’d died

After Nesta makes her speech:

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

After Azriel attacks Eris:

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”

Helion laughed

---

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”

Feyre loses her shit:

Beron shielded barely fast enough to block me, but the wake singed Eris’s arm—right through the cloth. And the pale, lovely arm of Lucien’s mother.

---

The Lady of Autumn was clutching her arm, angry red splattered along the moon-white skin. No glimmer of pain on that face, though. I said to her as I reclaimed my seat, “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lifted toward mine, round as saucers.

Beron spat, “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.”

Helion tells the story of the Affair:

Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

--

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet

--

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

---

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

I tried not to blink, not to let any of my rising interest surface.

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

--

“How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

But the way he spoke, that smile … I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

“What did he do to her?”

“The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face.

“Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.”

“We have more important matters at hand.”

“Beron never called you out for it?”

“To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

But if it had ended centuries ago, and she’d never seen him again, had let Beron treat her so abominably …

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien.

He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own of spring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

I wrapped my head around it. Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him.

His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

You never suspected?

Not once. I’m mortified I didn’t even consider it.

What does this mean, though?

Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir

[rekrappeter]

looking at the moon, but seeing you

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself drawn to draco malfoy, an october evening welcoming something you never expected

warnings: mention of feeling numb, swearing, typos

notes: please let me know what you think of this, feedback would be amazing thank you - if there’s an inaccuracy of the wizarding world in this, please don’t let me know, I’m not interested <333

I had originally started writing this for @bricksatanakinswindow​ ‘s wc and had a prompt in mind, but then I went on a tangent and finished it forgetting to use the prompt oops but anyways, I hope y’all enjoy it either way <3

It was your favorite time of the year. Orange and brown leaves scattered the grass, the sound of them crunching when students trampled over them to get to class, and it was always dark before the final class ended. The ghosts seemed to be more present during mealtimes and the flickering of the crimson fires above the four tables created shadows around the dining hall. There was an eerie, yet wholesome atmosphere that Hogwarts welcomed during the month of October. But the thing you loved most about October in Hogwarts was the Annual Halloween Feast. 

You were staring wide-eyed at the mounts of food that appeared in front of you, your mouth watering at the sight of the freshly trimmed turkey and the pumpkin pies that were making your stomach grumble with hunger. It took everything in your power to not reach out for your first servings, knowing that everyone was waiting for Professor Dumbledore to finish up his annual Halloween speech. The moment he gave you permission to start eating, your hands reached out for the first bowl of vegetables closest to you. 

“Calm down there,” Ron chuckled, his red hair brushing across his forehead, “It won’t disappear right away.” 

“You’re one to talk,” you snapped back, a playful smirk tugging on your lips as you eyed his plate already half-filled with chicken wings and mash potatoes. 

Ron scoffed, his cheeks turning red, “Quidditch practice makes me hungry.” You rolled your eyes as the boy rambled on, trying to plead his case but as you looked over his shoulder towards the Slytherin table, his voice was just a mere whisper amongst the eyes staring back at you. Cold, dull blue eyes were on your figure from across the room, his porcelain face rested in the palm of his hands and his pink lips were a spark contrast from his snow-white hair. 

“Is Draco Malfoy staring at me?” you whispered softly to Hermione, ignoring the confused glances from the red head boy that thought he was having a conversation with you. Hermione peaked over Ron’s shoulder strategically, pretending to scratch her nose in the process. The creasing of her fluffy brows confirmed your suspicions and you both stare at Draco, it wasn’t until the taller boy beside him, Blaise, nudged his shoulder with his that Draco was pulled out of what seemed to be a daydream. His eyes widened for a second, his tongue darting from his mouth to wet his lips as he raised a brow in your direction. 

‘What?’ you mouthed to him, and he shot you an annoyed, almost hateful, glare your way before tearing his gaze from you. A scoff passed your lips, it was so typical of Draco to make it seem like it was your fault that he was staring at you. “That was weird,” you murmured, shrugging your shoulders and the grumble of your stomach remembered that you had forgot to feed it all day. 

When the Feast had come to an end, the magically thundering and lightening lit up the Great Hall causing students to erupt into discussions of thrill and excitement. The tables disappeared from underneath you, as the room transforming into it’s annual Halloween afterparty. Pumpkins that Hagrid grew himself were huddled in the corners, big enough to fit three full adult males in them, and orange and black streamers were dangling from the ceiling. The table that the teachers occupied was gone and replaced with a stage, instruments scattered around on top and you could spot a skeleton tuning a guitar. 

A grin was unfaltering on your face, the excitement bubbling inside you. You glanced at Hermione, seeing her face in complete awe at the sight in front of her and you hated the fact that your eyes found themselves travelling across the room to the platinum blonde. Despite his foul demeanor throughout the entirety of the feast, an amused smile was rested on his lips as he watched the band of skeletons take the stage. As the music started, people began shuffling onto the makeshift dancefloor, still draped in their house robes. Your stare constantly kept finding it’s way to Draco, and no matter how much you scolded yourself, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

This started towards the end of last year, these growing unwanted feelings that you held for the Slytherin Prince. The summer break couldn’t have come quick enough, Hogwarts was a big place but you kept finding yourself bumping into him or walking in the same empty corridors as he did. Throughout the summer, you hadn’t thought about him once - you labeled it as a stupid crush, the inevitability of falling for the ‘bad boy’ of your year. Of course, he had ladies falling all over him, but you’d never seen him with anyone other than Pansy Parkinson and even at that, you weren’t sure if they were exclusive. You tried not to dwell on it much, the thought of the two doing things together in the dungeons brought a wave of nausea each time. You thought the feelings that developed were gone, but the moment he walked onto the platform at Kings Cross, time stopped and it was just him there amongst the bustle of people bidding goodbye to their families. You scolded yourself the whole train ride, feeling yourself falling into daydreams and fantasies of what could be. But you were a Gryffindor, and he was a Slytherin. It wouldn’t work. 

“You’re staring this time,” Hermione smirked, an amused glint in her eyes. She twirled you around so that your back was to Draco, and you silently thanked her. You had confided in Hermione about your little crush on Draco, hoping she’d be able to smack some sense into you and help you remember all the cruel things he’s said to you in the past but the thing was… you remembered all those things, you repeated them in your head but it still wasn’t enough to stop you from wondering where he was and letting your eyes linger after him. 

The night was drawing to an end, a night filled with endless laughter and dancing. You were on your way to the common room, arm linked with Harry as he swayed with you, drunk on happiness. Passing the courtyards, somehow your eyes spied a figure making it’s way to the black lake, and if it wasn’t for the hair that gleamed under the moonlight, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But you detangled yourself from Harry, him giving you a puzzled look. “I-I think I forgot my bookbag by the lake earlier.” 

“Do you want me to go down and look for it with you?” Harry asked, his hair tousled and sweat beading on his forehead from the amount of dancing he was forced to do. 

“No, I’ll only be a second,” you said, stepping backwards onto the grass, “I’ll follow you up.” Harry was hesitant to leave you behind, Ron calling his name from inside the castle but he nodded reluctantly. Hogwarts was after all the safest place you could be. You scurried down towards the bed of water, your eyes adjusting to the darkness until you spotted his figure sitting underneath a tree that was naked of leaves. 

“Following me, y/l/n?” you could hear the ennui in his voice, and it made you halt your steps. Maybe it was the glee from the October evening that led you to follow him, or maybe it was the dissatisfaction of not knowing how it felt to feel his lips on yours that made you come down here. Pursing your own lips, you took a step back hearing the crinkle of leaves under your foot as you twirled to march back up the hill you practically ran down. Draco sighed, “you can stay.” 

You were thankful that it was dark outside, the grin on your face practically glistening at his words. You sat crossed legged in front of him, feeling the October chill kiss your cheeks as his eyes gazed at the stars above you. While his eyes were lost in the nature that surrounded you, your eyes were on his face, taking in every fraction of it up close. How the eleven year old boy with an innocent smirk you met a number of years ago had morphed into the exhausted looking seventeen year man sitting in front of you. His pale face was separated with dark circles hoovering beneath his eyes, his pink lips were chapped and the speck of blood on his bottom lip indicated that he must have been nibbling on them recently. 

When the oddly comfortable silence became too much for you, your fingers digging into the grass underneath you, you breathed out a sigh gaining his attention. It was as if he forgot you were there. “Did you have fun tonight?” you asked. 

Draco scoffed, his eyes rolling, “I hate Halloween.” 

“How can you hate Halloween?” you questioned, your jaw dropping, “It’s practically a holiday dedicated to us!” 

“It’s a holiday dedicated to pretending to be someone you’re not, how incredible,” Draco drowned sarcastically. 

“Have you never wanted to be someone that wasn’t you?” Draco was stunned at your question, and he so eagerly wanted to scoff and question why would he want to be anyone else, but when he caught sight of your curious eyes, he became speechless. He stared at you like he did in the Great Hall previously, but instead of the lifeless stare that you were accustomed to at this point, his eyes were filled with sorrow and sadness. Of course he wanted to be someone else, the more he thought about it, he’d began to accept the fact that he wanted to be anyone but him. At the mere age of seventeen, he had so much responsibility resting on his shoulders, missions and tasks that he wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone about. He felt as if he was drowning. 

“Draco..” you breathed out, your breath fogging underneath the moonlight. Draco barely heard your face, he only came back to reality when he felt your soft, warm hand rest on his cheek and he jumped back in fright. “Hey, it’s just me..” you whispered, wiping the stray tears that were leaking from his eyes without him realising. 

Draco scrambled away from you on the grass, and you let your hand drop from his face. The spot you touched tingled as he stood up from the ground, fixing his robe that was draping off his shoulders. “W-why are you here?” he spat at you, his eyes twitching. 

You remained on the grass, looking up at his worried expression. You wanted to have an explanation as to why you were suddenly drawn to him, but you didn’t even know. “I-I don’t know, Draco.” 

Draco. Draco. Draco. His name that barely passed his ears lately felt like butterflies and fireworks falling from your lips. All he heard these days were Malfoy, no one addressed him as Draco anymore and he didn’t realise how much he needed to hear it, it grounded him. “Say my name again,” he mumbled, barely audible but from the raise of your brow, he knew you heard him. 

You stood up from the grass, taking a hesitant step towards him and you waited for him to jump away from you but he didn’t. You closed the gap between your bodies, his breathing racing as he watched every move you made. Lifting your hand to his face again, he let himself relax underneath your touch and his eyes fluttered closed. “Draco,” you said softly, the twitching of the corner of his lips motivating your next move. His stature was slightly taller than you, making you put all your weight on your toes as your lips touched his cheek, “Draco,” you repeated, your lips moving down to his jaw, “Draco..” 

You gasped as his hand suddenly gripped the wrist of your hand resting on his cheek. He opened his eyes, a confused look swirling beneath the blue but you never got the chance to see beyond the confusion before his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. You stumbled back at the impact, but he wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you. Your lips moved in sync, the kiss rapid and intrusive. He pushed your body up against the large tree trunk, your head hitting the bark and your breath hitching in your throat. “D-Draco,” you stuttered against his lips, trying to push him off you to catch your breath, “What are you doing?” 

“I… I just wanted to feel something,” Draco mumbled, almost feeling guilty for kissing you and his eyes casted downwards. He tried to step away from you but you clasped your fingers around his wrist and stopped him. He glanced up at you, the swollen lips a reminder of seconds before. 

“How did it feel?” you asked, a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. 

The overly confident and obnoxious man that you once knew was nowhere to be found, seemingly lost in the October breeze. When Draco resulted in silence as his answer, you closed the gap again and connected your lips in the second kiss of the evening. This one was more delicate and you could tell he wasn’t expecting it, it took him a moment to kiss you back. Your hands slipped into his, your fingers intertwining as you lost yourself in his touch. He broke the kiss, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent, “It feels like a new life,” he finally answered, his heart hammering against his chest, “but please answer this, will you forget about it in the morning?” 

“Never.”

[midnightmoonkiss]

now you got me THINKING:

reader picking the lock to her holding cell for the hell of it, wandering the deck at night and catching deku muttering to himself, compass in one hand, tugging at his lips with the other, to which she helps him using scraps of knowledge she picked up from her snob of a father, learning her father was the the reason for a few of his scars in past battles, tracing them gently and explaining how she hates her life and blah blah bLha my brain rot is REALL

YESS OMFG???? HOLD ON I GOTTA.. GOTTA WRITE THIS..

Kidnapped By A Pirate (Cont.)

Pirate Deku X Fem! Reader

This basically is a continuation of this short fic, only going further into the early-on relationship between Captain Midoriya and you, (Y/N).

Category: fluff I guess?

Word Count: 2.3k

Just To Clarify:

This is a continuation

“You know,” His mellifluous voice startled you, “It’s awfully rude to stare.”

The sentence sliced through the silence of the night like the sharp sword resting upon his jutting hip.

The sea was calm and the moon was full, not a cloud in the sky. Stars shimmered brightly above, milky way weaving through each dot of light.

And here you stood, on a pirate ship.

Gathering your bearings, you inhale sharply through your nose, the salty scent of the sea nearly making you gag,

“It’s awfully rude to kidnap someone and throw them into a dirty old cell with no food or water as well.”

His hearty chuckle made you gulp, the tickling of butterflies has no place in your stomach. Not now. Preferably not ever with him, but most pirates did have this.. salacious charm to them.

“Very true…” He sighed, “Forgive me.”

The fact that you were having this conversation with his back infuriated you.

He didn’t care enough about your escape from your cell in the dead of night, when all his crewmen were asleep, to even pay you full attention.

It was as if he viewed you as the least frightening and threatless thing on this vessel, a harmless, stowaway mouse.

Swallowing the lump of logical fear lodged in your parched throat, you strung together all the courage you had on you with a flimsy string and strode over to him, hands fisting the fabric of your dress.

The pirate was leaning against the railing of his ship, staring down at a dirty compass resting in the palm of his large hand, lip pulled between his thumb and index finger and he studied the spinning of the needle trapped behind cracked glass.

His features from behind became clearer with every cautious step you took, messy green curls pulled into a ponytail, few strings of loose hair framing his chiseled face. He was practically glowing in the light of the moon that shone in front of him. Beautifully dangerous, like a barracuda.

“It’s broken.” You pointed out to him, the captain who wasn’t wearing a hat, an air of finality in your tone.

If he was plotting a course by a broken compass..

You were royally fucked.

You’d be lost at sea.

Would you ever see land again?

The nauseating rocking of the ship had you almost on your knees, praying. As the days went by, your sea legs grew, but you still weren’t used to it. You didn’t want to be used to it.

“It's only broken to those who don’t understand it,” He teased, sparing you a glance before returning his gaze down to the old piece of junk.

He didn’t seem to want to bother with taking you back down to your own personal hell, yet.

That was good enough for you.

You came up here for air, after all.

It was suffocating below deck.. The stench of mildew having made you sick.

Who knew you took fresh air for granted? Even if it was salty.

At least you could see the open sea and how the moon reflected on the murky water. It was enchanting, something out of a romance novel, but you wished you saw it under better circumstances.

Something about being on a piece of wood out where land was nowhere in sight and the bottom of the ocean was so far out of reach you couldn't even imagine it unnerved you.

You never understood seamen, or pirates, even.

They did this stuff for fun.

At least seamen did it as a way to make income.

The click of his tongue brought your attention back to the freckled man, murmurs under his breath only just now reaching your ears.

Directions and landmarks, sea terminology, things you didn't understand slipped past his chapped lips.. Until something you did know was uttered.

“You’re sailing for the port of Baringham? The low-profile port? That only deals with textiles?”

“Many questions for an answer you already know,” he quipped, “I’m taking you there.”

“How are you going to take me to a place where you cannot even plot a course to?”

Huffing, he finally turned his head to you, amusement written on his face along with a charming smile that would’ve made anyone swoon,

“Alright, you’ve got me.”

Pushing himself up with his cloth covered forearms, he moved to lean with his back against the rail, crossing his arms as he gave you a sliver of respect with direct eye contact.

You briefly considered pushing him over.

“I’m a bit lost.”

“Ah, so you admit it.”

Humming, you mimicked his action, crossing your arms under your chest.

“Fortunately for you, I happen to know where it is.”

“That so?” He mused, leaning toward you ever so slightly, panicked interest cracking through his calm, forest green eyes that you couldn't help but notice twinkle, “Care to tell me?”

“Mmm. I would… but what’s in it for me?”

“What is it that you want? Isn't your guaranteed freedom at said port enough?”

“No.”

“..” The captain was shocked into silence, clear amusement still written all over his face.

Combing his dirty fingers through his messy green locks, he gave you an inquisitive stare,

“Then what else?”

You thought for a moment. What else did you want?

You wanted many things, things of which he could not grant. No one could.

You’d have to settle for something else.

Something you would prefer.. suddenly, the sickness you felt when you were in that gross cell came to mind.

“Don’t put me back in that damned cell!” The shout bubbled up from nowhere, shocking even you, “And.. and water. I want water.” You mumbled out.

Silence settled into the night once more after your loud declaration.

Your face burned with pure embarrassment as he became the one to stare at you..

Until he started laughing.

The kind of boisterous and infectious laughter that forced you to look away from his regrettably handsome self.

“You have yourself a deal, princess!”

The title further made your cheeks burn, drawing your attention back to him just to meet his enchanting gaze.

It draws you in like a sailor to a mermaid.

“Now, mind telling me?”

Licking your lips, you pointed to the heavens, his eyes following, “Travel so the brightest star in the sky is behind you, and follow the little dipper. The port is due north from there.”

It was a route you didn’t mean to memorize years ago.

The loud snap of the compass being closed made you jump, composure temporarily lost yet again.

“Ahh..” His gaze flickered over the sky, no doubt seeing a plethora of routes with each familiar constellation as he mapped the one you spoke of.

“I see it now, silly me.”

Looking down at the deck, he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck, messing with the curly hair that fell loose. Would you be so bold as to think that he may be embarrassed?

He clapped a hand on your shoulder after pushing himself fully off the rail, the whisper of thanks fanning hotly across your ear as he climbed the creaking stairs to the helm, brown boots clicking on each step as he did so.

Spinning the wheel round, the ship croaked as it turned so that the north star fell behind.

“How did you know this course?”

His curiosity was natural. After all, how did you, daughter of a well-off navy general who had never stepped aboard a boat before, know the way to a port not many knew of?

The answer was simple, though it was an answer you didn't exactly wish to know. Cursed with knowledge as you would say, blessed would say the others.

“My father.” Bitterness stung your words, and Izuku whistled.

“Slimy piece of shit he is.” It was grumbled under your breath, and yet he still somehow heard you, offering a grunt of agreement, eyes focused ahead.

“I hate the bastard myself,” he seethed through his teeth, “I’d offer up all the rum and shillings I have to see his blood spill and stain my deck by my own hands.”

The fury that clung to each word he spoke sent shivers down your spine, his aura threatening as he fell to his thoughts.

“I have an obvious reason to hate him,”

“You do?”

Your childlike curiosity warmed his heart, bringing his attention back to you,

“You don’t get scars from nowhere, love.”

Your nose crinkled at the term of endearment, climbing the stairs yourself as you rolled your eyes.

“Your scars are hidden,”

“His scars mark my back.”

Blood drained from your face, bile creeping up your throat at the meaning.

You felt sick and disgusted with the blood that ran through your veins.

You hated being the daughter of a monster.

“Oh..” The whisper caught on the wind pulling at the sails.

Silence fell once more, the unbearable kind that made even his skin crawl with uncomfortableness.

Had the crew been awake, he probably would have laughed, grabbed a bottle of rum, and stumbled into his captains quarters to drink the memories away.. But his crew was asleep.

Oh, how he missed his first mate. He was the whole reason you were on his ship in the first place.

“Just your back?”

“Do you wish he gave me more?” Izuku chuckled, teasing you once again.

“No.” You huffed, furious he would even suggest such a thing.

“I have a few.. Mainly on my hand but I-”

His words died on his tongue, heart beating in his ears when he felt your much smaller and daintier hands grip his own, the only one covered in white scars.

He gulped as you traced the smooth cicatrix on his rough skin, a small blush on his cheeks, your touch soothing the pain behind each one.

Tears not his own fell onto his skin, rolling off and spattering onto the deck below, but he remained silent, allowing you to trace the scars over his forearm, not specifying which were and which were not created by your father.

He liked your touch.

“I hate him too.” Your words were raw with hatred, touch fading as you pulled away and yet he still felt the tingle of it under his skin.

He wanted more. He hadnt felt such gentleness in so long..

That doesn’t matter, though.

“Why?” He found himself asking.

Lips pressing into a frown, he watched the sea as you mindlessly walked around behind him, stories spilling past your fervent lips, stories that made silent anger bubble in his gut, stories that you had never told anyone before - that you were forced to keep inside yourself for so long that they spilled out without care.

His desire to burn that man's ship down, to watch as the bright flames engulf him and it, destined to forever be lost at the bottom of the sea, grew tenfold.

Deku, the infamous pirate, prided himself on not giving a shit half the time, but he couldn’t ignore the empathy he felt in the moment.

You both had a common enemy.

Two strangers.. Where’s the irony in that?

“I don't like you,” You started after finishing up your uncontrollable word vomit, stopping in your tracks, “But the fact that I find this kidnapping to be the most enjoyable days of my life because I’m away from him and all the power he possesses is concerning.”

Why you told this to an untrustworthy, murdering thief.. You had no idea.

Perhaps it was because you had a feeling he would understand after hearing you out.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was currently the only person you could say it to.

After kidnapping you, all he had said to you was ‘welcome aboard!’ before locking the cell you just escaped from days later.

You should hate him, you should wish him to hang like every other disgusting pirate out there, especially for snatching you from your home in the dead of night, transferring you from one cell to the next, but you don't.

You wouldn’t show that, though.

Many words weighed heavy in Izukus mind, words he was unsure if he could say, or if it’d be the right thing to say.

He wasn’t heartless like some assumed, he wasn’t this traitorous asshole stories floating around about him told, he was just a pirate with a kind heart and skilled hands.

He almost felt bad that he planned to give you back to your father.

He felt bad that for that first day you were aboard his ship, he had wicked ideas of marking and ruining you in so many ways your father would only ever look at you and see him. 

It was a cruel way to get revenge, revenge through someone else.

Actually, maybe he was an asshole.

Right then and there, he decided that that would no longer be his course of action, not if he could help it.

Hell, he wanted to keep you as far away from your father as he could. Would he abandon his first mate? No. He’d devise some other plan. Maybe get you somewhere safe, ask for your dress, and then cover a scarecrow in said dress and use that as a tool to get him back.

It could work!

Or maybe not.

Nonetheless, plan A through D were just thrown overboard,

“Well,” He smacked the wooden wheel to get your attention,

“You’re a pretty little thing, so I like you.”

You scoffed, he continued,

“Consider yourself prisoner to your fathers enemy for a long time to come, because darlin’,”

He drawled, sauntering over to you as you instinctively backed up, only to be trapped against the railing.

His muscular arms caged you in, taller frame towering over you as electrifying green eyes intoxicated your soul and sent heat flashes up your body,

“I’m not gonna let you go so easily.”