#the siren agenda never gone until i die

[rawrl1ns]

quick siren!charles wip before bed (again)

[florencwrites]

ECHOES, PAGE TWELVE 〚dreamwastaken〛

He is cross with her, cross with her for caring about him. Then, sirens are blaring and she cannot think straight. The alarms making her sick with their deafening threats of what might've occurred within the walls of the prison she had grown to hate so much. series homepage

"When are you going?" Her words were whispered in both fright and anticipation. She truly didn't know how she felt about the entirety of it all. On one hand, it'd be good for Dream to have some visitors; there only had been a handful that went to meet him and none of them had returned for a second time, besides from Quackity.

When he came to visit he always came for a little chat beforehand, and while she'd always had a certain liking towards Big Q, these times he'd been acting weird, odd, eerie.

He'd have this almost mocking attitude as he asked her how she was holding up, if she'd spoken to Dream yet. One time he'd even gone as far as to say, "You know he deserves whatever it is they're giving to him, right?" His voice had been deep, hard, and cold. "You know that right?"

He'd scared her. She gulped nervously and nodded while staring blankly at the horizon. She had asked him to leave. He did.

On the other hand, she wasn't sure whether Tommy was in the right state of mind to be seeing Dream at all. She didn't want him to do anything he'd regret, she didn't want him to act as erratically as he often found himself to be.

"Tonight." He muttered in response, his eyes still fixated on the darkening clouds above. "I came to tell you that."

"I appreciate that." She squeezed his hand. "I'll be waiting for you right here."

He sat up, turning his torso to face her, "I also came to tell you that I don't want that."

She sat up, too, urging him to keep on speaking. So, he did, "I want you to go see Techno again. He missed you and you missed him and he will keep you safe, he promised."

"You didn't tell me you spoke to Techno."

"I am now." His face stood unrelenting, he was insisting on it. "I've taken care of everything."

"Tommy, I'm not going anywhere until you return from that prison unscathed." He opened his mouth to retort, but her maternal instinct had caught his words before he had even thought of them. "And that will be the end of it."

"Fine, whatever." He pushed himself from the ground, quickly wiping the dirt and grime from his clothes and hands. "Stay here, see if I care."

And with that, she was left alone.

It felt odd to have another falling out with Tommy, but for the first time, it had nothing to do with her desire to see Dream. If anything, it had to do with the slight tremble of fear she carried with her, fear of what the man she loved truly was capable of. Tommy thought he was entirely invincible, that no harm would ever truly catch his scent; he was incredibly and utterly wrong.

The grass she had picked at flailed up into the air, swirling down into her lap. "I know, Wilbur, but nobody's looking out for him anymore."

"We're the only ones that care."

A cold print rested on her upper back. She jumped at the contact, he had never gone as far as to touch her before. She didn't even know he could. "Was that you?"

A phantomed thumb rubbed circles in its place, comforting her entirely. She smiled as she leaned into the touch. "I'll wait for him however long it takes."

"For both of them."

The hours passed ever so slowly, they had always seemed to crawl along the clock when it came to her. Perhaps her lack of agenda was what kept them from ticking at a normal pace, perhaps the lack of a rush was what did it. There was no looming threat of delay running after the minutes threatening to beat it with a stick. They crawled past ever so slowly, knowing damn well nobody would be chasing the spare seconds they left behind.

She'd watched Tommy walk past her in the reflection of the murky water. She reckoned the tide had changed once again, bringing the mud up to the surface in whifts. The water had been clear for as long as she had sat there, but today it was practically visually impenetrable. He hadn't said a word, only his pattering steps and the spectral, almost melodious grunt of the portal being utilized.

She could hear the creaking of the vault faintly in the distance, it was a spookily silent night. The moon stood high in the night, especially for the time of the evening. It was early, she was hungry.

She didn't dare to stick her feet into the cloudy waves, whereas normally she'd have no trouble getting them dirty; today she felt uneasy doing so. She pulled grass from the soil beside her, she had decided to permanently move to the fresh spot Tommy had assigned her to.

She loved him with all her heart, nobody would ever be able to take that from her, even him. He could commit the most heinous of crimes, die a horrible death and take thousands with him; she would mourn the death of his wickedness the same way she would of a saint. She'd apologize to him the second he came out of there, she'd tell him she was sorry for treating him like an imbecile that couldn't hold his own, even if it was a little true. She was gonna tell him that she'd leave for Techno's first thing in the morning, that she'd already notified Niki that she'd be taking Bastard back into her own care. She had taken care of everything.

But then sirens started blaring, alarms started screaming at her for being so goddamn naive. The prison shook in its core, the small waves it emitted into the water felt like fucking tidal waves as they splashed onto her feet. Her hair was being pulled at mercilessly and her skin felt like it was rotting, sliding from her skin.

The sirens were blaring loud enough for everyone in the realm to hear, and still, they succumbed to Sam's menacing screams of despair. She could hear him screech at the two men locked inside, she could hear the absolute desperation lacing his tone as he shouted, "Get away from him, Dream! Leave him alone!"

And then, it was quiet. It was quiet in the way it had been the first night she'd sat there. Quiet in a way the whole world had been smothered, the whole world had muffled and muted itself to listen to her agonizing sobs. When they took Dream, she had been inconsolable.

Now, he had taken Tommy and she was beyond repair.

[geraskierficrecs]

What about the hanahaki disease prompt it’s too good to ignore

Okay, Hanahaki stories are my guilty pleasure even though I’ve never written one.  I might flesh this out with a little more plot one day, but for now, enjoy these moments of anguish.

The first time his heart breaks, Jaskier is covered in blood and standing outside the rubble of a ruined castle.

He can hear Chiraedan’s shocked breath next to him, but it’s nothing compared to the exquisite agony of discovering Geralt is alive and choosing to ‘celebrate’ that fact by fucking the very sorceress that had been tormenting Jaskier moments before.

It was his fault really.

Everyone on the Continent knew that Witchers never loved.  He had been content with he position at Geralt’s side if it meant he could occasionally relish in the flutter of his heart when the Witcher graced him with one of his rare smiles or dry jokes.  He could sing new songs of adventure and pretend he wasn’t already falling too deep into the gravity of Geralt’s affections.

Then he’d felt his throat rip and tear beneath the Djinn’s magic.  He’d felt what it was like to have Geralt’s arms wrap around him and watch the man above him focus all his energy on saving him.  How was he supposed to go back to pretending he wasn’t affected by the sound of Geralt murmuring his name?  He’d been so happy even while he thought he would die.  Now it felt like that happiness was the real curse behind the Djinn’s magic.

Inside, he hears Geralt make a soft sound of pleasure and he feels his chest ache.  His throat burns like his lungs are filled with razor--digging deeper with each breath.

He turns away from the window, telling himself he should just be glad that Geralt is safe and the Djinn’s magic is gone.  

He can forget the emotions that had only grown with each step taken in Geralt’s wake.  He could find some willing lass in the next village to drown his sorrow with.

Jaskier takes a deep breath and feels something rough catch in his throat.  Reflexively, he coughs, low and rough, in his hand.  After a moment, he glances down at his palm and feels himself go still in fear and shock.

There, curled beside a small splatter of blood, is a pale white petal.

__________________________________

The cough only got worse the longer he traveled with Geralt after he met Yennefer.

Eventually, Geralt began to notice the scent of blood that seemed to linger around Jaskier.  There were always excuses to be made--nicked himself shaving, tripped and fell, a fight with a jealous spouse--but even those weren’t enough to cover the way Jaskier was beginning to struggle to sing without pausing to breathe through the ache in his chest.  Or the larger pieces of flowers that he now brought up.

He knew it wouldn’t be long now.  

Jaskier looked to where Geralt was talking gently to Roach and down at the crushed peony in his hand.  

“Just a little longer,” he whispered down to the flower, like he could beg the disease to slow its relentless growth.  

Just a little longer.

__________________________________

“If life could give me one blessing--”

Jaskier can feel the burning agony in his chest digging deeper, as though the roots were burrowing into his very bones.  It is all he can do to keep himself upright as Geralt destroys him with every syllable.

“--it would be to rid me of you!”

He stares, blinking back tears and tries to catch his breath. 

 It’s becoming harder now.  Everything is harder now.  He’d hoped to enjoy this last adventure at Geralt’s side before he finally admitted that he wasn’t capable of traveling any longer.  He would make some excuse for the Witcher, of course.  Maybe pretend the Countess de Stael still wanted him.

Anything to avoid watching Geralt chase after Yennefer again.

The disease only grew worse each time he had to watch the mage appear with sly smiles and hidden agendas only to disappear with Geralt’s affections trailing in her wake.  He wanted to scream at her, to beg her to understand all that she had been given and so easily tossed away.  He wanted to paint some masterpiece of the look in Geralt’s eyes when he thought of her and show her the beauty she so easily overlooked.

But he wasn’t a painter, he was a bard.

He wasn’t even a friend to the Witcher he’d given his whole heart to.

If Jaskier wasn’t dying, he would have crafted a ballad describing this moment that would leave crowds in tears.  Somehow he doubted he would have time after Geralt finished destroying him without ever raising his sword.

“Alright,” Jaskier whispered, forcing his voice to remain even despite the cough itching at the back of his throat.  He’d had plenty of practice now, “I’ll just...get the story from the others.”

He had to grit his teeth to avoid coughing up the petals and stems and raw ache in his chest.  Even if Geralt hated him, he wouldn’t allow his death to weigh on the Witcher’s conscience.  He wouldn’t burden him with the misery of what loving Geralt had brought down on the bard.

Jaskier would give him the blessing he wished for.

The bard turned, stiff and awkward against the intense need to cough.  His breaths were shallow.  It felt as though his lungs were unable to hold oxygen any more.  Too full of the flowers that would adorn his corpse.

He walked.

There was no point in attempting to find the path they’d used before.  He only let the pull of gravity and the downward slope do the work for him.  

But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss 

Once he was out of earshot, he coughed until his vision danced with spots and his stomach heaved with the need to eject the curse growing within him.  Jaskier left the small pile of leaves and petals beside the path.  There was no point in burying them like he had the others.  Maybe it would even help bring someone to where ever his body finally collapsed.

His vision wavered with the next wave of coughing and he stumbled hard enough that his knees hit the ground hard enough to make him whimper.  He spat a clump of peony petals dyed red with his blood and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.  Each breath felt like a struggle and a dark part of him wanted to laugh at the idea of the very thing that made him famous being what killed him.

Stubbornly, Jaskier forced himself to his feet and continued down the mountain.  Any hope of reaching a village before he collapsed for good seemed to disappear with each step.  His strength was fading fast. The shadows created by the sunset made the forest seem dark and forbidding in a way that never happened when Geralt was by his side.

He couldn’t help but think it was absurd to die from loving the wrong person instead of at the hand of all the monsters he’d seen in his lip.

Jaskier’s foot hit a root and he fell hard, hitting his side hard enough to expel what little air he’d managed to drag in.  He coughed.  Spat out more flowers--larger now that he was close to the end.  He rolled onto his back and stared up at the bright red sky, blinking away the tears that ran down his cheeks.

A red sky at dawn is giving you warning, you fool

He wanted to laugh at the irony of the lyric that was meant to convince Geralt to realize who truly loved him.  And Geralt had never given it a second thought.

Just as he’d never thought of Jaskier as more than an annoyance.

There was nothing left for him but to wait for his foolish heart to finish this.  He coughed again, curling on his side to try to ease some of the pressure.  The temperature was beginning to drop with the loss of the sunlight and he shivered miserably.  He scrubbed at his face roughly before another long series of coughs left him gasping and aching.

He could feel the wet mixture of dirt, blood, and flower petals against his cheek, but couldn’t summon the strength to move just yet.  A tear dripped off one of his lashes and he huddled more tightly to try to conserve his heat.  Not that it mattered.  He wouldn’t make it to the morning.

His thoughts went slow and sluggish, smothering without the oxygen he needed to survive.  He blinked, fighting to drag his eyes open again.

i love you.

The words he’d never been able to say felt like poison, but he could help but whisper them into the night.

“I love you, Geralt.”

Jaskier coughed, fighting through a wave of dizziness and panic when he couldn’t catch his breath.  He pressed his cheek against the cold earth and tried not to cry.

“...love...you..”

There was a sound nearby--a snap of a branch--and Jaskier tried not to sigh.  It was just his luck that he would be eaten by some beast before the disease took him.  He hoped for it to be quick, at least.  Perhaps a siren to sing him into the dark...

“--kier.”

The voice was familiar even through the thick cloud of agony filling his mind.  He turned toward it, too weak to do anything else.

“Jaskier!”

Strong hands wrapped around his arms and lifted him into a sitting position, leaning his head against a strong chest.  He didn’t need to smell the familiar scent of leather and blood to know it was Geralt.  

Smiling up at the phantom, Jaskier’s eyes fluttered weakly in an attempt to see Geralt’s face one last time.  Whatever creature or doppler that had chosen this form had chosen well...he would never fight against Geralt.  No matter what it cost him.

“What happened?” 

The creature’s voice was nearly perfect, Jaskier thought weakly.  It would have been foolproof were it not for the way Geralt’s hands were shaking and the thundering heartbeat in his ear.  The Witcher would never allow himself to react so much.

Jaskier cough, turning away in an attempt to hide the damage.  His throat closed around something thin and his fingers scrabbled weakly at his mouth to pull it free.  It made him gag and heave, but eventually he dropped a fully formed pink peony and its stem onto the ground beside him.  He closed his eyes, strength fading.

“You...you’re sick,” Geralt said.

Jaskier gave him a weak smile.  “I’m dying.”

His voice was a raw husk of what it once was.  Weak and wanting even at the end.

Geralt’s arms tightened around him and abruptly he was being lifted.  The sound of pounding footsteps felt far away now.  He leaned closer against Geralt until the Witcher was all he could see.

“Stay with me Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled, mentally thanking whatever creature or hallucination had created this fantasy.  

It made it easier to slip away into the dark.

___________________________

The world shook against him and he sucked in a ragged gulp of air.  Tasted the blood and misery on his lips.

“Tell me who it is!” Gold eyes snapped fire at him from the darkness in his vision.  Jaskier swayed like a tree in the wind, trying to focus.  “Jaskier!  Tell me who it is!  I’ll find them!”

“too..late, ’m afraid,” Jaskier rasped and felt blood drip from his lips.

He fought to keep his eyes open and focused on Geralt.  There were monsters lurking here, hidden in the shadows.  Waiting for him to collapse.  Laughing at the stupid bard who’d always aimed for impossible targets.

“No! I’ll bring whoever it is to you and you’ll get better.  You have to get better!”

His head slumped forward, but calloused fingers cradled his cheeks.  Jaskier’s eyes opened through sheer force of will and he summoned a weak smile for the ghost in front of him.

“It was,” he swallowed another mouthful of petals, “always you, my love.”

There was a roaring in his ears that matched the thunder of his heart.  Geralt’s mouth moved to shape words, but Jaskier was far past hearing.  He let himself go limp, relieved of the burden of his feelings at last.

____________________________

Waking up again was a surprise.

His whole body felt like it was bruised and battered beyond recognition.  Each breath irritated the rough skin at the back of his throat and he groaned.

Instantly someone was there to help lift his head and press a cup of cool water to his lips.  He drank greedily, feeling like his stomach was empty for the first time in ages.  The water was better than anything he’d tasted and he made a noise of protest when it was pulled away.

“You’ll get sick if you drink too much,” a voice rumbled.

Jaskier’s eyes opened in surprise and he turned to find Geralt sitting next to him.  He blinked, trying to banish the hallucination for the sake of his sanity.

“I’m dead,” he said flatly.  It was the only explanation for the Witcher sitting here beside him.  Not after what he’d said.

Geralt’s lips pursed into a scowl.  “Not quite, but you came close.”

“Ah,” Jaskier tried for levity despite the way he wanted to crawl away and hide himself from Geralt’s too-knowing gaze, “that explains why you’re here.  Saving me again.”

The Witcher remained silent, his thoughts hidden behind his stoic expression.

He tried not wince at the pain that lanced through him at the thought of what Geralt had witnessed.  Jaskier looked away, shifting to lay back down until he could gather the strength to sit up on his own.  Feeling Geralt’s hands on him was too much after all that had happened.

“Must have been good luck to find a healer so quickly,” he rambled to fill the tense silence between them, “Thank you for that.  You, uh...you won’t need to wait any longer for me.  I’ll just be on my way as soon as--”

“Did you mean it?”

Jaskier’s head snapped up at the sudden question.  Geralt was looking at him oddly, something unreadable in his expression.

The bard licked his lips, eyes darting around the simple rom before flitting back to the Witcher.  “Mean what?” he tried weakly.

“Did you mean what you said?  About why you were sick?” Geralt pressed.

Jaskier’s eyes fell closed against the cold wash of fear that raced down his spine.  This was it.  The moment he had tried so hard to avoid with all his lies and fake smiles.  The moment when Geralt saw his feelings for what they were and sent him on his way.  Whatever reprieve he’d gained in the brief relief of seeing Geralt again would disappear just as quickly now.  He could already feel the tingle at the back of his throat.

He felt curiously calm as he gathered the shreds of his courage and spoke.

“Yes.”

“You’re in love with me.”

His heart thundered in his ears, but Jaskier forced himself to nod.

“How long?” Geralt rasped.

A wry twist of his lips. “Since the djinn.”

The Witcher stood with a burst of barely restrained energy.  He paced away from Jaskier’s sick bed and raked his fingers through his hair until it was freed from its tie.  When he looked back at Jaskier, he looked almost feral.

“I--I didn’t-”

“Know?” Jaskier let out a ragged laugh, “Of course you didn’t.  I knew you didn’t feel the same.”

“You would have died without telling me?”

The bard’s mouth went flat.  “I’m a very selfish man, Geralt, but even I wouldn’t risk you feeling guilty for what was going to happen--not when you were in love with someone else.  It was my choice.”

“Are you still in love with me?” Geralt asked softly.

He huffed out a mirthless laugh.  “I never stopped.”

There was a soft click as the door shut and Jaskier felt his strength wane beneath the crushing agony of reality.  This was the end he had been dreading since he’d first recognized the symptoms.  Geralt was gone and all there was left to hope for was the death he’d already tested.  He closed his eyes again, biting back a sob through gritted teeth.

Then there were arms closing around him and pressing him against a chest still stiff with the armor he hadn’t bothered to remove.  

Jaskier froze in shock, too bewildered to do more than make a soft sound of surprise.  Soft lips pressed against his forehead and he felt Geralt heave out a long, slow breath.

“Idiot,” he whispered.

The bard blinked, still confused.  “I’m sure you’re right, but why...?”

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Oh...” Jaskier whispered and nodded, “It’s okay.  You were upset.”

“I should never have said that,” Geralt said, his arms tightening around Jaskier, “I regretted it as soon as I realized you were gone.  And then I found the blood...”

Jaskier winced at the reminder of what had happened on the mountain.  He was sure his path down the hill was easy to follow even without Witcher training.  He’d stopped to cough small piles of flowers and leaves several time and stumbled his way through the underbrush without any concern for the trail he was leaving behind him.

“Well, I appreciate you saving me and finding a healer,” he said quickly, leaning back to press a hand to his chest and relish being able to breathe without pain.  He was sure it wouldn’t last long. “I expect you need to leave soon.”

“I didn’t find a healer.”

Jaskier froze, frowning at Geralt in confusion.  “What? But I...”

The Witcher met his eyes.  “I didn’t need a healer to fix what I broke.”

Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s.

Thanks for the prompt!  Sorry it took so long to fill--this was quite a bit longer than I expected, but I hope you liked it!

[rebelheartsmustbefree]

(Standing in the Flames)

Ewan: 

Did death bring with it smells? I’d never been dead before, but I suppose it could. My sense of smell being assaulted by numerous scents. Vile one's. My limbs moved.

“Motherfucker!” The tone in my voice somewhere between a dog whistle and glass smashing pitch.

No, I wasn't dead, surely there wasn't this much pain in death. There couldn't be, that all-loving God wouldn't allow it....Wings. The thoughts of my untimely death halted. Wings was safe as long as I was here, there’d be no more looking for me, for that face. An inner calm came over me; it didn't stop the pain from assaulting me, hitting in nauseating waves, but it was something. I moved my head; my teeth clamped together. Tightly. My limbs felt like lead; they couldn't move, I couldn't make them move, and this time it wasn't because they were tethered to a table. Finally, my head lifted. My limbs laid at odd angles on the makeshift bed. My head fell back, not the comfiest of landings but better than hitting the table. Pain wracked my spine. Fucking hell. If I could shift....the air around me shimmered....nothing.

Nothing for hours, between bursts of pain, I tried. I failed. Between bouts of unconsciousness, I tried. I failed. Faces came and went,  Gretchen, came and went. I was a freak show for them to stare at, prod at when it pleased her. Hear my screams of pain as they moved my broken limbs for their enjoyment. One guard had the audacity to piss on my leg. I would enjoy killing him. My mind became lost in the maze of my head with each needle. These people had been doing experiments on shifters for year's. Murdering us, trying to learn our secrets, trying to understand our DNA and why it was so different from theirs. Fucking werewolves. Why the fuck weren't they happy with just being able to change into wolves? Arseholes.

Isaac:

*I could hear Jason screaming my name, his hand shoved up against my throat. My mind was slowly coming back online, the darkness fading from unconsciousness and the darkness of reality I realized was much, much worse. I shoved Jason off of me and scrambled over to Marie, my hands gathering her up and pulling her lifeless body into mine. NO. This cannot be happening. I won’t let it. I close my eyes and give everything into trying to heal her. Come on sweetheart, come back. Deep down I knew. She was already dead before I came out of that bar looking for her. Before I was attacked and hit the ground. But the side of me that knew that lost the battle of wills, still trying to save her anyway. 

My throat was already in the process of healing, all my grace seeming to be focused on patching me back up, Marie be damned. The more I tried to fix her the slower the process of my own healing was, blood still trying to gush out from the wound. FUCK. Jason was down here with me, his arms closing around us both. I could hear his words, in an effort to comfort me but no words would work.*

Isaac, she’s gone..you can’t bring her back. You have to let yourself heal. 

*My head shot over and I glared at him, tears streaming from my bright blue eyes. I couldn’t help her. Healing is one thing but bringing people back from the dead isn’t something we try to do as Angels. We can but we don’t make a habit of it. And with this cut across my throat taking all my grace and sucking it up for itself, I didn’t have enough in me to save us both. I didn���t have a choice. My body made the choice and the celestial being side of me chose selfishly.*

Ewan:

The sweat dripped down my forehead, my body covered in it like a blanket. My broken, shattered limbs shook. I wretched, the contents of my empty stomach fighting it's way up my gullet, my throat and finally into my mouth. Bile. Fuck, I wasn't dead. I blinked, how long had I been here? Why hadn't I died yet? I’d begged. Pleaded for death, which hadn't come yet. I lifted my head; the room spun, more bile. My legs still at odd angles, green and yellow oozing from open wounds. Flies buzzing around my arm, the muscle curling, turning black.

 I dropped my head, the stench in the room I could only imagine; I’d been put back in here at the end of every ‘session.’ No bath, no shower, no toilet. I’d rather have been gutted, my head severed. Each time, when I believed I couldn't feel any more pain, they’d find ways to inflict it. Some new test or experiment to try on me. 

Tears fell from my eyes, the material below my head, soaking them up silently, keeping them as though holding on to a secret.

The door opened that scent I wretched again. Gretchen.

“Hello, Ewan...” Her voice is perky, too perky. “Today we are going to open that chest of yours.” 

Her head appeared above mine, her finger on my chest as she outlined a heart with her nail. 

“Let me die.” 

“Oh, no...the fun is just beginning.” A sadistic, twisted tone in her voice.

Isaac: 

*I had to go. I couldn't be here when the police showed up. They would take one look at me and immediately have too many questions. I was covered in blood. My own blood but there was now no wound at all. Not even a trace, a scratch, nothing. So they would assume I did this to Marie. Jason shoves as me and tells me to get out of here, the sirens are nearing, closing in bit by bit. 

But when it came down to it, I couldn't leave her. Everyone in the bar knows I was here tonight and asking everyone to lie would not be okay. And clearing their minds is the last thing I would want to do to people I care so much about. This shit was going to come down and fast.* 

Jason. Tell them I went after the attacker. I'll be right back. Just tell them that! 

*I yell at him as I start running from the bar. I had to get away from all the blood at the scene for this to work. I was going to track that bastard down. There was no way with a throat wound, that my blood hadn't gotten on him. I am going to find this fucker and it is over for him.* 

Ewan:

My legs didn't work, that was obvious from the fact my shoulders were dislocating under the strain of my body weight. Hung from a wall by arms, blood dripping from the muscles and ligament around my wrist where there was no skin left. Gaping skin on my abdomen where their fingers, hands and instruments had been. I had to wonder if I had any insides left in there. The drugs they'd given me had at least numbed me this time; it was a shame they couldn't have numbed my brain and taken my eyesight. 

 My eyelids lay closed; my body jerked now and again, my back hitting the wall, no feeling I just knew it was there. I continued to try to change, shifter into anything; at this stage, I would take a worm, a gnat, a fly. For the love of fucking God anything. I’d fought through this for the only thing in my life that made sense anymore. The only thing that had given me peace. Wings. In my mind, I’d been back to that cottage a million times. More tugging on my body. Words are spoken between these people; I can only hear certain ones. Obscure words in random order. There was no point trying to put them together, trying to form a sentence. I didn't care.

Isaac:

*He wasn't hard to find. My blood was the strongest beacon in the free fucking world. Even the most minuscule trace of my blood could be tracked by me. Only me. My grace was unique and no other Angel had this combination of human and celestial DNA. He was a couple blocks down from the bar, just behind that little shop Ewan and I went to before our get together. I had to immediately shove that warm thought out of my head. Sentimental shit had no business being in the forefront of my mind right now. I had one thing on my agenda and it wasn't reminiscing. 

Thing about me is I can be the most loving, caring being you'll ever meet.. until I've hit that line and crossed it. The line where you've fucked with my family, you've hurt me and killed one of my own. The most random act of violence. Senseless. 

The closer I got to our attacker, the more I could smell him, smell my blood on him. He had no idea what was about to hit him. I was up on him and shoving him onto the ground before he had a chance to turn around and see me. The Isaac that everyone knew was pushed aside and the vengeful Angel was full on and ready for blood.* 

Bet you didn't expect me to get up from that.. did you? *My words were practically seething from between gritted teeth, my hand had the back of his neck and his face shoved into the pavement. I had no idea what was happening to me. Shirt was gone, a blood stained chest now exposed and my wings fully expanded behind me. The flare from my blue eyes blinding as I reached that boiling point. He was dead to rights.. my hand coming down to the back of his head to obliterate him entirely until he calls me, 'Jason?!'.* 

What? *I spat out and shoved at his body until he turned around. Maybe this wasn't random after all.* Who fucking sent you.. and you better talk sense quick. 

Ewan:

The hours passed, I knew that because of the pools of blood at my feet when I did open my eyes. I tried to continue to take myself away, now and again though I’d be jolted back against the wall, I was shackled to right now. There was a comfort to be taken from being at the cabin: a commotion, words being shouted dragged me back again. My head lulled on my chest, I trying to lift it, fighting my eyes this time to open. Perhaps someone had found me, Wings? He’d found me, come to get me out of here. I felt the hope begin to spring in my chest; I could do this. I lifted my head painfully, slowly, my vision blurry. 

“Wings.” A mere whisper fell from my lips. Figures rushed around, colours folded into each other, no outlines.

“Wings.” One of those blurred blobs headed my way; I blinked furiously trying to get my vision to clear. “Wings.” My voice a little louder this time, the hope had travelled through my body like my blood, springing up everywhere. He was here. He was here. 

As the blurred vision got nearer the crumbled bones of my legs tried to stand a loud crack, my body slumped against the chains holding me. “Wings...here.” The blurred vision stood in front of me.

“Wings....Thank you.” I swallowed, it felt like nails fighting to get down my throat. It didn't matter; he was here. He had come. I felt my mouth attempting to smile. I wasn't sure what was taking him so long, his smile, he was smiling at me. He knew it was me. Those dimples. I blinked again.

“Wings? Is that Jason, dear Ewan. He won't be rescuing you anytime soon.”

The image in front of me cleared, Gretchen.

“Jasons dead.”

Isaac:

*He begrudgingly gave up a few details, none of which told me anything that made this whole shit show make sense.*

What the hell does Jason have to do with any of this? *My hand tightened around the guys throat and lift him off the ground by it, I kept my face in his, still seething. It was then that I realized that my wings were on full display by the saucer sized eyes the guy in my grasp had.*

He called you Jason.. But also Wings.. Now I know why. *He scoffed and actually had the audacity to reach up and try and touch them but my reflexes were much quicker. I caught his wrist and snapped it back, laughing darkly at how the bone crunched within my hold. His apparent amusement faded real quick after that. And then I knew what this was all about. This must be about Ewan and this fucker must be one of the guys that Ewan has been running from.*

He was wearing my face wasn’t he? Ewan. Is this why you came after me? Cut my throat and ran like a fucking coward? *My heart began to race. The plan was to grab this guy, fuck him up and smite him without hesitation. But he had information. This was about Ewan and the bullshit ran deeper than what it appears to be on the surface. With nothing more than a blink, I will us back to my apartment and sit his ass down in a kitchen chair. Before he could even realize or put up a fight, I had him tied up and gagged. He wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. And for good measure, I placed an old enochian ward on the rope, making it impossible to wriggle out no matter how strong the guy was.*

I’ll be back. I’m not done with you. *With that, I find a shirt and let the cloak settle back in place, wings tucked back away and headed down to deal with the cops that just arrived.*

Ewan:

Could time stand still? Could words float in the air? I blinked. No. No. It was Wings, I’d seen him. I’d seen Isaac; it was a trick. I blinked again. My eyes frantically searched every inch of the face in front of me. No. No. 

“Wings....Wings...” I croaked.

He was here. He was. I pulled on the manacles restraining my wrists; a scream rushed from my throat as pain wracked my body. Why didn't he hurry? They'd find us; he’d be caught then too. Wings quickly. Hurry.

“Ewan.” The sound of the voice floated to my ears; it was him. He was trying to tell me he was here, but I knew, I knew I’d seen him. 

“Ewan.” Again.

I'm here; it's me. Isaac, it's me. The other hand pulled at its binding, another scream. My broken legs slipped in the pooled blood, getting no traction even to attempt to stand. WINGS!! My brain screamed. 

“Fucking listen to me, Ewan.....your friend, Wings is dead. Peter cut his throat open and let like the trash he is on the floor.”

NO. No. No. It wasn't true. The words had been said, but they weren't making sense. I’d seen him. He was here. He’d come for me.....

Isaac:

*The cops came, asked about a million questions I didn’t have time for or wanted to answer. But I knew I had to comply and play human. To pay no mind to the man bound up and tied to a chair in my dining room. He had answers and I would do everything I had to, to figure out what the hell is going on. Lynn stood beside the gurney, the body of Marie zipped up in the body bag. Marie had no biological family unless you counted her ex husband which we definitely did not. We were her family. Lynn like her sister. It would be us that would handle all the arrangements. Starting with Lynn heading off to the morgue. I motion to Jason to go with her. She didn’t need to be alone right now. No. I needed to be left here to take care of things. The cop grabs my arm, repeating his question.*

I came out and found her like this and all I could think of was to have Jason call you guys and I ran out there trying to find the attacker. 

*The officer jots down the information I just relayed to him and closes his little notebook. He gave his condolences once again and they were on their way. With the bar now closed and everyone else taking off, I was here alone to do what I needed to. Climbing the stairs two at a time, I get back to my apartment and shut the door behind me. The man in the chair had wide eyes once again. I tore the gag out of his mouth roughly and before I had a chance to say anything, he’s stammering.*

Look, I am just carrying out orders here. Doing as I’m told. Your friend was a casualty of the job. 

*The balls on this guy to just refer to Marie as some fucking casualty. The back of my hand struck him across the mouth, busting his lip open immediately.*

Don’t you fucking talk about her. She wasn’t just something in your way. She was my family. All of these people are my family and you fucked with the wrong guy. *I gripped his hair in my fist and yanked his head back, making him meet my icy blue eyes.*

 Now...who are you and where is Ewan? 

Ewan:

I shook my head, it wasn't true he was here. I felt my eyes fill up, no he was here. 

“He’s dead. The trash had to be taken out Ewan, and now....no one knows you're here. I wanted to make sure of that. I intend to keep you for a very long time.” The voice gleeful.

He was here. He was here. I blinked furiously clearing my vision. My broken limbs slipping again and again as I tried to make my legs work. Bones rebreaking, as I pulled against the shackles. The muscles making noises as the shackles rubbed against them, blood fell from them. An anguished scream ripped from me as I continued to fight. The vision in front of me, twisting and turning.

And....there he was, smiling saying my name, how sweet it sounded from his lips.

“Ewan...” His arms wrapped around me, those dimples perfect.

“Wings....My Wings had come for me.” There, right there was the cabin. I felt my lips smile. It was over.

“He's unconscious, take him back to his room. We will continue tomorrow.” Gretchen instructed one of the lab workers.

Isaac:

*So far I had gotten out that this evenings attacker was named Peter, that he was just another cog in a bigger machine and that him going missing wouldn’t bother the whole big picture of their operation. I stepped back and watched him, stalking around his rope bound form that now had many wounds that he bled from. He wouldn’t give me more information if he died on me. I lay my palm on his shoulder, letting the grace slowly flow from my fingers and into his body. He would heal, just giving him enough to not die on me.*

There’s one question you keep skirting around and it’s a very important question, Pete. Where is Ewan?

*I really didn’t know what he had to laugh about, but he did. Choking on his own blood as he did so. I was through with fucking around with this guy. Just as I was about to haul off and slap this asshole again, he opens his mouth and more hateful words come out.*

Why do you care about that fucking thing? The only reason she keeps him alive is so we can run tests on his DNA because he is a freak. *Another laugh, spitting out blood onto my floor.* He is some bottom feeding entity, not like us. You.. though that has to be the best face I’ve seen him use, you are something different. I saw those wings. Those glowing eyes. I heard the dialect you used to bind these ropes. You’re an Angel and I cannot figure out why you would waste your time with a lab rat, our lab rat. 

*And then that was about the time I couldn’t take anymore. I pulled back my hand and landed it across his face so hard that I could hear his cheekbone crunching beneath the contact. Ewan seems to be a trigger, my wings were back out and on display again, those bright blue eyes burning a hole in that mother fucker. How dare he talk about him like that?*

You’re going to show me where they are holding him or I will pull you innards out through your mouth, Peter. I don’t care anymore. I just want him back and I’ll let you go, healed even though you killed an innocent and tried to kill me. Do we have a deal?

Ewan:

The world was perfect again; somehow, Wings had found me. Now here we are, the cabin, the snow, our friends coming tonight. The smile on my face had been continuous since we got here, how many days had that been? I couldn't remember. I looked down at my arms, my legs....flashes of pain rushed into my head, my hands went to my temples as I bit my lip to stop me from groaning out....Our friends were here; I opened the door, a sight to see. Jason, Marie and Lynn. Marie’s outline shimmered, like a shifter, maybe she didn't know what she was? I could explain it to her.... My hands shot to my temples, the pain....flashes of silver appeared in front of my eyes. I turned around looking for Wings......

“Is he awake yet?” Gretchen asked the guard; all he did was shake his in answer.

“There's no point in torturing him if he can't see it.” She opened the latch door, looking at my broken body. She slammed the looking hole closed.

Isaac: 

*Good ol Pete agreed and I refrained from turning him inside out. We took the way by foot, my hand at the back of his neck with a death grip that let him know I wasn't in the mood for any sort of negotiation. Traveling through all the back alleys and shortcuts I could find, not wanting anyone to stop us with questions. Which since it was about three in the morning, chances of that were slim. All I could think about was Ewan. My stomach was in knots ever since Peter told me what they were doing to him, why they hunt Ewan. 

I swallow down the lump in my throat. The thought of him being shackled up brought back my own painful memories of what the Garrison wants to do to me, and have tried doing before. I would lay down my life to keep Ewan from going through that hell. Peter croaks out instructions, telling me where to turn. We were on the outskirts of town and I could see the old building up ahead. It had been abandoned for as long as I could remember so at first I questioned whether Pete was telling me the truth or not. But the closer we got, the more I could sense Ewan. 

We had spent enough time around each other that I would never forget the way he smells.*

Okay.. I brought you to him, now let me go. You said you would. 

*Ahh.. the smell of fear. It was rolling off Pete and filling my senses. It was delightful. Especially after what he did to Marie, to me and what fucked up shit he was part of that would hurt Ewan. The grip on the back of his neck tightened, I lifted Peter up off the ground so his feet would kick and protest the height. The fire tore through his body quickly, his screams muted by it consuming his throat first since that's what I was holding him by. When he was fully engulfed in flames, I dropped his charred body to the ground, smirking down at it.* 

I lied, mother fucker. 

Ewan:

My arms wrapped around my head; the pain had taken me to my knees. “Wings.....Wings....” Jason, Marie and Lynn stood watching, not coming near me. Flashes of silver blinded me. “Wings...Wings” Why wasn't he here? He was here, he came for me. He was here. I shook my head, the floor distorted, it became brown. No, no, no.  I opened my eyes.... There was no cabin; I was back in the room. I was here. Pain ripped through every limb, every part of the skin that covered my body. I remembered, I remembered, the second round of pain tore from my insides, it was my heart tearing to shreds. No, no, Wings was dead. The bellow echoed around the empty room, my whole body shook......my vision blurred.

Marie’s shimmering figure laughed. Jason smiled. Lynn was dancing. A blurred figure stood in the doorway, I smiled. “Wings?”

“Get that bastard out of there and wake him up. I need to....experiment on his voice box.” Gretchen's order was simple enough.

Isaac: 

*The little hairs pricked at the back of my neck. All celestial senses now in overdrive. Ewan was here and he needed me. He needed help. I carefully opened the door and stepped inside, closing my eyes and sussing out the counts of heartbeats. 

One.. two.. three.. four.. five..

And one more.. slow and ragged, injured. I smelled blood. It was him. Five people and six counting Ewan. These fucks had no idea what was about to go down. I listened carefully, followed voices. My wings allowed me to move about with barely a foot on the ground. I hovered around corners, nearing those voices, the first heartbeat was in front of me. 

Out from the shadows I came up behind the man, never expecting me, or death. But he got both. I didn't have time to mess around with fighting, making myself known. With a quick snap, he hit the floor in a crumpled pile of bones. 

Four more to go. 

I round another corner and it opens into what looks like a laboratory. The smell of blood hits me like a ton of bricks. This was all Ewan. I was seething. More than I ever had before. I would be damned if I would lose someone else tonight. He was mine and I would fight for him. I hear a woman and it stops me in my tracks. It must be the one Peter spoke of.. talking about Ew's voice box. 

And then faintly.. the sound that could have broken my heart where I stand. A faint 'Wings' from a room beyond this one. I was close. 

Bullets greet me as I charge into this laboratory, slicing them away with each swipe of my wings. I could feel the hot lead tearing through my flesh, missing me mostly and then ripping through my feathers. I didn't care. I kept coming. And that's not what they expected at all. Suddenly guns are being thrown down and the two men, the ones who look like they were twins, come charging right at me. 

Their last and fatal choice. I caught both of them by their throats and let the holy fire within my fingertips devour their flesh. Throwing them down at my feet, the woman standing there with a look that was half fear and half curiosity, looked over to the other man before shifting into a wolf right in front of me. Both taking off before I could chase after them. 

Ewan. I rushed into the small containment room, finding him lying there. What wasn't bloody was broken. What wasn't broken was infected. But his face.. I fell to my knees and gathered his face in my hands, the glow already trying to seep into his flesh. It knew what to do.* 

Ewan.. Ewan can you hear me?

Ewan: 

The blurred figure in the doorway wouldn't come into focus, no matter how hard I blinked. And I blinked a thousand times or more. My hands flying to my head. Pain. The people in the room shimmered. Pain. I screamed. My eyes blinked, a voice was saying my name. The blurred vision cleared a little; the room had changed again.

“Ewan, Ewan.” Those dimples, those lips. No, no, they'd tricked me before. My shattered heart knew, No. 

My broken, shattered hand reached out, not doing or going where I wanted it to.

“Kill me, Gretchen, please,” My ragged voice begged. “I want to be with him.” My eyes closed; he was still blurred in the doorway. Why wouldn't he come to me? Why? 

“Wings.”

Isaac:

*He was definitely not okay. Not even in the fucking least. I turned my hand over and placed the back of my hand against his forehead. He was burning up and by the looks of his hand eye-coordination, he wasn’t seeing clearly either. When he reaches out in my general direction, I am mid reach back to him when his weak voice comes through and his words break my fucking heart.*

I’m right here, Ewan. *I rested my forehead to his, my wings though a little damaged from the gunfire I went through, they closed around us as I gathered him in my arms. We had to get the fuck out of here. Everytime I tried to move him was making him cry out in agony. He kept asking this Gretchen bitch for death. He was completely lost in his pain right now. There was no reasoning with him. I had no choice. I lower my mouth to his, kissing him softly. I hoped he knew how much he meant to me. My hand drops to his chest and the other hand rests on the back of his neck. Just like Jason and his hangover, it was time for some sleep, to put his tortured mind and body at ease for now. 

His whole body went lax, making it easy to hoist him up in my arms and carry him out of this hell hole. Once we were outside, I carefully laid him down on the ground and walked back over to the building. There was too much blood in this place, Ewan’s blood. The bodies with my name on them were already burnt to a crisp so there was only one thing left to do. I placed my hands on the side of the building and closed my eyes, letting out a roar that was loud enough to wake the dead. The building didn’t take long to turn into an inferno. My eyes were still a fiery blue as I turned back to reclaim the man I came for, the man I killed for and scorched earth and flesh to save. I plucked him up back into my arms and knew exactly where we were going. I need to take care of him and nothing would stop me. With Ewan secure in my arms, my wings did the work and got us out of here. I don't give a second thought if anyone would see us or not. We disappeared into the night with the glow of the building afire long behind us in seconds. 

At the edge of the woods, silently watching the scene play out here in the wee hours of the night, two wolves watch as the Angel takes flight with their prey in his arms.*

#TBC

[originalxconceit]

❛ You did it. I love you. ❜ { bc oops is their jam lol }

* (  LEGACIES 2X04 /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

@puresails

Returning home after a particularly long night, Kol finds Anikaia still awake and clearly waiting for him. These last few months had been something of a ride with the insane cultist threatening to end an entire species with his siren. But that was where Aurora had messed up. She declared war on the Original family. There was only ever one way that could end, and yet it seemed their enemies never learned.

Smirking as he crosses the room to her, he banishes any lingering anxiety by informing her, “it’s over.” Aurora’s little Augustine operation had, quite literally, gone down in flames once they figured out a way inside. The blood of many scientists and cultists coated his hands as well as his shirt. Any progress they’d made with their experiments died with their whole operation. 

Aurora herself had been a difficult one to track though, and even more annoying to touch, but the second Mary Louise had brought down the magic barriers and defenses protecting her, Kol had been first to pounce. He could still feel her racing pulse as his hand curled around her neck and she fought for air. It would have been so quick and easy to pop her head off with his bare hands and present it to Anikaia with a bow on top, but Seph, knowing what he would do, had been on him before it could get that far. Apparently her and the Bennett witch had other plans for her before she was sentenced to die.

Kol had argued with Seph for some time after that before she appealed to his desire for Aurora to suffer. A quick death would have been far too merciful for the likes of her and she had agreed. She deserved to die a horrible death; like the one she’d had in mind for Anikaia. Until then, she was their prisoner.

“She’s not dead quite yet, but she’ll not be a problem anymore,” he continues before giving her a brief summary of everything that had happened. 

❛ You did it. I love you. ❜  

Opening his mouth to continue, Kol is rendered speechless as he is taken aback by the words she blurts out. It was like something of a shock wave to hear from, well, anyone. But especially her. Whether she was just feeling emotional in the moment or what, he wasn’t sure, but she had said them. Clear as day, he had heard it. Even she appeared surprised. 

He wasn’t sure how to take that and he was even less sure how to react to it. It was like he had stepped into completely foreign territory here and didn’t know the language. Feelings weren’t really his strong suit; he didn’t typically do or handle the whole emotional sappy thing well, or at all. As he regains his composure though, Kol plays it off to alleviate the awkwardness that had settled during both their silences. 

“Of course you do. What’s not to love?” He retorts cheekily as he gestures to himself and the smirk returns. Brushing her hair back behind her shoulder, he looks down at her with an amused head tilt. “And you’re about to love me even more, darling.” Leaning down, he brushes his lips against hers, murmuring in between kisses, “Bonnie’s going to reverse the clock on her, and then I’ve arranged for a one-on-one. How’s a bit of revenge sound to you? We could torment the beast just like we did those wretched Rolland traitors. Have a little fun with her before you pop her skull and send her six feet under where she belongs.”

If anyone ought to kill Aurora, it was Anikaia. The witch had come here with an agenda to end the siren line, among other things, so it was only fitting she look that final failure in the eyes as she swung the ax. It was rather poetic. Besides, Kol got an immense pleasure from watching Anikaia work. She could be just as twisted and creative as he could, and that was just one of many reasons he enjoyed her so much.

“When this is all over and she’s dust, let’s get out of dodge for a bit,” he suggests as he kisses her more hungrily now, guiding her back toward the bed. “We’ll celebrate. My family owns a lake house not far off from here.”

[bangtan-dreamland]

Future Works

Series

⭐ Cliche Romances: The Bestfriend’s Edition

Summary: Or in which, we find out- is falling for your bestfriend really the ultimate recipe for heartbreak? Or is it worth taking that chance to find out?

❤ Of Hopeless Romances and Starlit Skies

Summary: If there is anything you know, any fact that is central to the foundation of your life, there is only three.

Fact #1: Taehyung is a hopeless romantic. You are the complete opposite.

Fact #2: You are his bestfriend.

Fact #3: You are in love with him.

... Not that you’ll ever admit the last part though.

❤ Of Second Choices and Spring Air

Summary: All you wanted was to be someone's first choice. All Jungkook wanted was for you to choose him. Love is never easy, but when your last relationship ends horribly and you give up on everything related to those four letters, he makes it his mission to show you that there's always been someone waiting for you to choose him, if you'd only give him a chance.

❤ Of Reunions and Drifting Waves

Summary: Park Jimin is someone you swore you'd get over, but years later, when you meet up again in your hometown, the town festival forces you two to keep each other close. Tensions rise when his friends and your friends keep setting you two up, but it's not like anything would ever happen. After all, you'd moved on from him, and he'd never even looked at you that way, right...?

⭐ Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice

Summary: Stepping into the world of sugar babies was something you never expected- moreso being a 'sugar mommy'. However, fate had decided to give you seven men as 'sugar babies'...

or

What do you do when you're a 'pure' virgin, and your adoptive family wants to set you up with someone to obtain access to your inheritance? Prove them wrong by presenting your dating history, of course! Complete with your own romantic partner- and if you can't get one on short notice (not owing to your inexperience), well... money may have brought you into this trouble, so it's only fair you use it to get out, right?

⭐ A Witch’s Soul(mate)

Summary: Being a witch meant being a supernatural, it meant discrimination and fear and wariness, so you've always kept it hidden, acted as though you were a normal human- until an outburst of your powers sets events into motion, one that forces you to accept your powers- or risk losing everything. You never asked to be bound to a human, and Jimin never expected being connected to a witch- but together, you might just survive and grow.

⭐ tweet with luv

Summary: Confessing to your bestfriend, when you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same way? Bad.

Vague tweeting about your crush on your bestfriend online, for the whole world to see, when you're an award-winning actress with no previous relationship scandals, and he's the golden maknae of the biggest kpop group in the world? So. Much. Worse.

⭐ The Kindergarten Agenda 🌠

Summary: Teaching preschool wasn’t exactly what you signed up for when you applied to be a teacher at Bighit School, but you quickly find yourself falling for the job. It doesn’t hurt that your students are absolute sweethearts, no matter how others seem to see them as demons. If the way that they cling to you is any indication, they feel the same way too. You’re their precious teacher!

And then starts the war when they realize you’re not in a relationship. Who better to be your partner than their older brother slash father slash cousin?

⭐ Wedding Lace

❤ Satisfied

Summary: Falling in love with Kim Seokjin was as easy as one, two, three- trying to control your feelings and falling out of love with him was another matter entirely. Still, what else was there to do? You may have been his childhood friend, his best friend, the person who's been there for him through his whole life, but your sister still had multiple advantages over you even when she didn’t want them- his heart, for one.

The other being her arranged marriage with him.

❤ Here

Summary: All your life, you'd revolved around Seokjin as though he was the sun- and you, the hapless Earth, so close and yet so far. Then enters Park Jimin in your orbit.

⭐ A Siren’s Call  🌠

⭐ Ten Reasons Not to Kiss Her

⭐ Cursed AUs  🌠

Summary: Or, what happens when you mix children shows and movies with BTS?

One Shots

❤ Sticky Notes, Scribbled Hearts

Summary: By their side the years blur into the sidelines, until all you know is love, laughter, happiness- their existence that consumes you like a fire, bright and wild, burning you down into ashes that barely survive because of the wall you build between you and them. You spend countless nights with your heart bricked and hidden away, but one moment is all it takes- and soon enough, the walls will come crumbling down. But are you prepared to take that chance?

❤ Somewhere Out There 🌠

Summary: Always a little lonely, always a little sad- you send off paper airplanes and hope that if there really is magic out there, your soulmate will somehow read them and come find you. 

On the other side of the world, the letters pile up on their doorstep. 

❤ Heat Haze Days

Summary: You met Kim Namjoon on August 08, exactly a week before the end of summer break, and he walked out of life August 15, exactly a week after he came into yours. The heat haze of the summer days offer more than hope- it offers you action, opportunities. When time is on your side, anything seems possible- but can you really save someone fated to die?

❤ The 15 Years I Spent Chasing You

Summary: You asked him to keep in contact, to never let your friendship die, so he did. He started writing letters to you- and then he composed poems as you grew up, and then raps until he ran away from home, from everything, but not you, before finally producing songs when he became an idol, every word written with you in mind. Now, fifteen years later, Yoongi finally shares with the world a final piece- the ending to your love story.

❤ The Anniversary

Summary: Your plan with Seokjin was: get married, move in together, appease your parents, divorce. But somehow one month turns into two, then four, and then all of a sudden, a year was fast approaching.

❤ A List of Reasons Why I Hate You

Summary: On your anniversary with him, you look back on the previous years and realize life truly is a rollercoaster.

❤ Spring Days With You 🌠

Summary: To say that fate had connected you with them didn’t seem as silly as much as it felt right. The two months that followed it only proved it as well, and as you fell in love with every place you visited with them, so did you fall deeper for them, and so did they for you.

Untitled Ideas

⭐ 🌠 Summary: Desperate to end the rumours and scrutiny revolving around your love life, you agree to your friends’ help to pretend to be in a polyamorous relationship with them. To you, it’s just a temporary solution, until the gossip dies down, but is it really just that for them too?

⭐ 🌠 Summary: Running a business isn’t something that’s done all alone, what more to start a business. So really, you’re thankful for your friends who decided to help you turn your grandmother’s old greenhouse into a cafe. Still, between your ex and the mysterious love letters that keep appearing in your office, it seems that you’ll need all the help you can get. Can you save the greenhouse and your feelings as well?

⭐ 🌠 Summary: ’Guaranteed to bring you to your soulmates, through time and space if necessary!’ You didn’t think it’d work, but considering in the span of one night you’d gone from one universe into another, you had to accept, even if only to yourself, that maybe the love potion was actually real.

❤ 🌠 Summary: ‘Keep sleeping like that, with your arm hanging off the bed and don’t be surprised when you feel something holding it in the middle of the night!’ Well, you thought, as velvety fingers intertwined with yours, what better way to beat back the lonely night with your very own demon?

❤ 🌠 Summary: Jungkook had stayed by your side as your pet dog for at least ten months- and he was pretty sure that gave him seniority over this new dog who obviously thought he was going to share you with him. Ha, as if.

And then came along five more.

⭐ Summary: Cursed with the ability to see ghosts since you were born, you’d long been resigned to it- and then came Yoongi into your life, and with every touch that kept you connected to him, the ghosts disappeared- and that was all the incentive you needed to cling to him no matter what.

Yoongi just wishes you’d warned him before you decided to steal his heart and forever hold on to it.

❤ Summary: Between school, his unrequited crush on his bestfriend, and the looming threat of his finances, Jimin accidentally summons a demon. 

⭐ 🌠 Summary: Your blood was special, or so they said, so you had to help them mediate the world of humans and supernaturals, they said, you had to help them keep the peace and harmony, they said.

You just wished that didn’t entail taking care of seven hybrids. Especially ones that didn’t know how to manage their powers.

❤ Summary: In the beginning of everything, there were them, the gods of Life, and then there was you, the goddess of Death. 

⭐ Summary: Because it was just a game, and so you thought that it was okay- it was, wasn’t it? To reach the perfect ending you had to make them fall in love with you, to get home you had to make it just right. 

But then, why did the new students remind you so much of them?

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 10

Written by: ss, Sol Edited by: dania, Allegra

“Can you save me a spot in class?” Alex asked Bob as they walked across campus. Bob was still a bit irritated by what had happened earlier and simply nodded in response.

“I finally found out about that old prison,” Alex said to Bob, trying to cheer him up. “I actually have to bring lunch to the guy that lives there.”

“Someone lives there?”

“Yeah, the guy who stole my guitar, actually.”

“And you’re bringing lunch to him?”

Alex sighed. “He’s not doing great, Bob. He steals because he’s scared and depressed and doesn’t know anything else. I decided to give him a second chance and help him out.”

“Oh,” Bob said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah. So can you save me a seat?”

“Yeah, alright,” Bob said, looking at the ground.

“Thanks so much!” Alex smiled and went off towards the store around the corner, where he hoped to find a proper lunch for Nick.

Upon arriving at the abandoned prison, Alex climbed the rope ladder to Nick’s little bungalow to find that he wasn’t there at all. He had brought him lunch every day before, and he had always been there. Alex was concerned, but just left the bag of food with a little note that said he would be back later. Alex descended the rope ladder and left the abandoned prison, still worried about Nick.

A few blocks away, Nick spotted a couple of men unloading drum kits from a truck next to the main building at the music school. Encouraged by Alex’s recent and continual support, Nick was attending his classes for the first time in weeks. Curious, he walked over and offered to help bring them inside, hoping to possibly score one for his collection in the prison. Even though he had been cooped up inside his prison bungalow in fear of getting caught stealing, the moment he was out and about again he just couldn’t help it. Especially how easy and open the opportunity was this time. His fingers itched at the sight of the instruments being left out in the open, almost unattended.

He spotted a stack of snare drums by the road, ready to be loaded back to their initial places. Nick approached the stack, going over his options. There were three snare drums on the sidewalk, but he’d like to take just one to play it safe, but at the same time he could hoister two in one go if he wanted. Could he possibly even bring all three? He stuck his tongue out in the corner of his mouth, thinking. Only one way to find out.

He tried to pick up the whole stack, but that was deemed inefficient because his sight would be completely blocked. He then proceed to hoist two at a time, one under each arm. He was too preoccupied to notice that a man had approached him.

“Hello!” a cheery voice startled Nick. One of the snare drums slipped, but before Nick could prevent it from hitting the ground a pair of hands had caught it.

Nick trailed his gaze to the owner of said hands who had saved the drums from falling. A pair of friendly eyes stared back at Nick. It wasn’t until the man stood up, bringing the snare drum with him, that Nick noticed the towering height of the other man. Even though the man was donning a smile at Nick, Nick couldn’t help but feel nervous. He tried to balance the single snare drum he was holding.

“T-Tall...” Nick muttered, craning his neck to see the friendly man’s face. He received a chuckle in return.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he replied. “Would you like me to help you with these?”

Nick only nodded in response. He watched in silence as the tall man stacked it back in its place and carried all of them in one go.

“Where would you like these to be brought to?”

Nick pursed his lips in thought. Initially, he’d wanted to bring them straight to his bungalow. But now that the man was helping him he couldn’t simply out himself for stealing equipment from the university. Nick remembered an empty classroom he used to spend his time in during class breaks.

“There—here-” Nick stuttered. He directed himself to where they were heading and the other man simply followed. They made their way inside the building and into a staircase.

“What year are you in?” the man asked, making small talk. Nick didn’t quite welcome the talk but staying silent would probably make him look rude, as if secretly stealing more instruments wasn’t bad enough already.

“First year,” he replied shortly.

“Oh! Me too!” the man responded in a cheery tone. “What’s your name? I’m Julian!” he added, before Nick could respond.

“I’m Nick,” he answered. They had reached the top of the stairs and were now at the destined floor. Nick looked left and right, checking to see if anyone was around. Fortunately, the building was quite deserted, so he ushered himself to the classroom at the end of the hallway, with Julian trailing behind him.

“I’ve never been in this part of the campus before,” Julian said as he looked around. Nick wasn’t surprised since this part of the building wasn’t used for classes.

“Why are we here? Is this where they usually store the instruments?” Julian bombarded Nick with more inquiries. This was making Nick feel even more antsy, but at the sight of the room he had familiarized himself in he felt at ease once again. He shifted the single snare drum he was holding under one arm and opened the door with his free hand.

The room that was once a classroom was now Nick’s private shelter. During breaks where he had nowhere to go he’d make himself comfortable there. It was peaceful, quiet, and out of most people’s reach. He put down the snare drum he was holding in a corner. Julian followed suit.

“Quite empty here,” Julian pointed out the obvious. There were only a few stacked tables and chairs lined up on the wall, but other than that there wasn’t much. With Julian’s constant questioning Nick was feeling even more uncomfortable. He was afraid that Julian might connect the dots and he’d eventually find out how much Nick had been stealing. Out of the corner of Nick’s eye he saw the taller man put down the other drums on top of the one Nick had placed there.

“Anyway! It was very nice to meet you. Do you have any classes today?” Julian wiped his palms on his jeans as he nonchalantly looked around. Nick followed wherever Julian set his sights on, suddenly paranoid that something was going to give out Nick’s guise, even when he knew there was no way Julian could know what he had done.

“Yes,” Nick decided to reply, a weak attempt at masking the anxiety he felt.  It didn’t help when Julian started wandering around, his feet taking him from one corner to the other. What is he even looking for? Nick thought, anxious to the point of annoyance.

“I don’t think we’re in the same classes, I’ve never seen you around,” Julian said. Nick knew exactly why. He’d pretty much holed himself up long enough to use up nearly all of his absences in his classes, to the point that he was almost failing them all. Nick kept quiet this time, warily watching Julian.

Julian’s steps suddenly came to a halt. “Oh! We should go back downstairs. I think there are a few instruments left.”

Shit, Nick thought. He had forgotten about the story he fabricated earlier to somehow trick Julian into helping him steal. He glanced at the tall pile in the corner. Since when did he decide to steal that much? As the reality of what he’d just done dawned on him, he felt cold sweat all over his body. Oh no, oh no, oh no, his brain sputtered. What had he done? One day away from his hiding and he had stolen three times the amount as he was used to. His knees felt like they were about to give out. Julian approached Nick this time, his brows slightly creased in worry.

“Nick? What’s the matter?”

It was like the sirens inside his head started blaring. I’m going to be reported to the higher ups, I’m going to prison, I’m going to die, his head wouldn’t stop screaming. Julian had found out. Nick resolved it the only way he knew how: he ran. His legs swung in full force, taking him nowhere in particular as long as it was away from Julian. He faintly heard Julian call out his name once more, but he didn’t stop running.

-

Meanwhile, in a small flat in a busier neighborhood, Bob sat alone by the window watching the street below him. He had gone straight home after class, his thoughts still disrupted. He watched a familiar figure cross the street and make his way to the building’s main door. Bob prepared himself to face Paul after the events of that morning’s life drawing class. A click from the door signified that the darker haired man had arrived. Unlike Bob, Alvy still eagerly greeted Paul by the door. Paul patted Alvy’s head, then threw himself on the couch, all the while huffing.

“Long day?” Bob asked, with a personal agenda in mind. He was still somewhat bitter about the idea of Paul hanging out with Dino. He wished he knew why, but he figured that maybe making Paul clear things up for him would make him feel better, so he tried to probe about what Paul was doing with Dino in the most casual way.

“Mmmm…not really, just crashed at Dino’s place for a bit,” Paul answered. The neutral remark was good enough to put Bob at ease. Maybe Paul didn’t really enjoy Dino’s company after all. Bob continued his prodding.

“So...did you see his rat?” Bob asked, half-jokingly.

“Oh...yes, and uh, a bit more.” Paul hesitated. Bob raised his eyebrows in question. He hadn’t expected Paul to give a serious answer.

“More rats?” Bob asked with a forced grin, even though for the last few hours his mind had wandered about the things Dino had probably done to Paul, from the good to the bad. He felt like a mother watching over her son, but tried to convince himself that he was merely looking out for his dear friend.

“Well, yeah, but it wasn’t that that bothered me.” Paul shook his head at Bob, who was still silent as if expecting more explanation. “There was...” Paul tried to look for the right word. “...ah, funny business.”

“Oh,” Bob said, trying not to look hurt.

“Yeah, it was pretty gross. I think I’m going to stay away from that guy. I just wanted to see the rat, and…well, he showed me too much.”

Bob laughed, relieved. “So you don’t like him?”

“No, not like that, at least!”

“...What do you mean by that?”

“Ah, well, Dino was cute and all, and I liked his rats and his artsy personality and all, but…” Paul paused for a moment, figuring out how to phrase the next piece of the statement, “dude was weird as fuck in bed.”

“Oh, so…” Bob fidgeted anxiously, realizing that his suppressed fantasy could become a reality, “...you like guys… like that?”

“Well, yeah. I can like basically anyone if I’m attracted to them.” Paul folded his legs beneath him and looked at Bob with a small smile.

Bob tried to find the right words to reply. The fact that Paul had easily confessed that he liked boys the way Bob liked boys too somewhat felt relieving. Except that he couldn’t get rid of the voice in his head still whispering that it was wrong. Bob’s own internal debate made him quiet longer than necessary, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Paul.

Paul glanced at the floor for a moment, worried that he had made Bob uncomfortable. “Is that...okay?”

Bob smiled, despite having his own doubts. “Of course! It’s great! How did you find out?”

“Find out? Well, I mean...if you like a certain type of person, you just sort of know. Same goes for liking all different types of people,” Paul laughed. “It wasn’t really that hard for me to come to terms with, you know? I’ve always had bigger things going on, anyway, and it’s not like my family would have cared.”“That’s… that’s great, Paul.” Bob felt his heart pounding. “And no one bothered you about it? Ever?”

“There’s an occasional homophobe, but nothing anyone’s ever said has killed me, as you can see.”

“Oh, so no one’s really that rude about it?”

Paul frowned. “Why are you asking so many questions? Have you never met a bisexual before?”

“Ah, it’s…It’s nothing. I just want to talk to you more, I guess.” Bob forced himself to smile despite his anxiety.

Paul laughed softly. “Bob, you’re such a good flatmate.”

Bob could only offer Paul another smile. This was the first time he’d actually met someone who was similar to him in that way. He felt like he wasn’t alone, and after hearing Paul’s story he even felt a bit hopeful that maybe he was alright after all. Bob wanted nothing more than to tell Paul that he was gay, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet, anyway.

While there was no doubt still a sense of uncertainty within him, his feelings of shame  and doubt had subsided slightly. As Bob started to slip back into his thoughts, this time in a more positive manner, he told himself that one day he would feel as comfortable with himself as Paul did - and when that day finally came, Paul would be first in line to know.

[swanqueeneverafter]

21. The Cricket Game, Pt.5

Storybrooke. Present. Hook's Ship. (Hook is still being assaulted by Mr. Gold.) Hook: “Do it. Do it! Kill me. (To Belle:) He has to show you how powerful he is!” Belle: “No. Rumple, this - this is what he wants... (Voice breaks:) to destroy every bit of good in you.” Hook: “Rip my heart out. Kill me like you did Milah, and I'll finally be reunited with her.” Mr. Gold: “He has to die, Belle.” (Launches himself onto Hook to rip out his heart.) Belle: “No! No, he doesn't. There's still good in you. I see it. I've always seen it. Please. Please, show me I'm not wrong.” Mr. Gold: (Hesitates, then points at the pirate:) “You take your little ship and sail until you fall off the edge of the world. I never want to see you again. (Slaps Hook in the face, then speaks to Belle:) Let's go.” Storybrooke. Present Day. (Henry walks across the graveyard heading to Regina's vault. He enters the vault, pushes Henry's coffin aside and walks down the revealed staircase.) Henry: “Mom? Hello? (Regina is in a hidden chamber:) Hello? Hello? Mom? (Regina walks over to two way mirror, she is able to see Henry standing outside:) You in there? Can I come in? Mom? (As he turns away Regina opens the door to let Henry in. Henry enters:) Mom!” (He hugs Regina.) Regina: (Embraces Henry:) “Henry, I'm so glad you're here. I missed you so much when- I have to let you know, I had nothing to do with Archie.” Henry: “I know. I always knew. (He holds her at arms length:) Archie’s alive. Cora kidnapped him.” Regina: “He is?” Henry: “Yeah. Come on, it’s OK now. (Takes her hand to pull her out of the room:) Everyone knows you’re innocent.” Regina: “No, Henry stop. I can’t go with you.” Henry: “Why not?” Regina: “My mother has enchanted this room. I’m a prisoner here.” Henry: “A prisoner? I don’t understand, does that mean I’m trapped too?” Regina: (Shakes her head:) “No, it... it’s blood magic. She’s confined me to this room for... I don’t know what purpose.” Henry: “There must be some way out. I’ll ask Mr. Gold.” Regina: “No, Henry. (Crouches to be at eye level with her son:) Listen to me. I don’t want you to worry about me. Whatever my mother’s plans are I don’t think they involve hurting me but I don’t trust her not to hurt the ones I love. Now I want you to find Emma and stay with her. She has magic now and she can protect you.” Henry: “But what about you?” Regina: “Your safety is all I care about right now. If anything were to happen to you I don’t know what I would do.” Henry: “I can’t just leave you down here.” Regina: “You must. I can handle anything my mother has planned as long as I know you’re safe. Now go. Before she returns.” Henry: “But-” Regina: “Please, Henry. Find Emma and don’t leave her side, promise me.” Henry: (Reluctantly:) “I promise. We will save you.” Regina: (Eyes watering, softly:) “Go.” (Regina opens the door and gently guides Henry out of the room. As he leaves, Regina tries to put her hand beyond the doorway’s threshold but is burned by the blood magic keeping her captive.)

Storybrooke. Present. The Town Line. Night. (A car approaches with Belle and Mr. Gold inside and comes to a stop.) Mr. Gold: “This would have been lost, if it wasn't for you, Belle. I would've been lost. After everything you've learned about me, after everything I've done, why haven't you given up on me?” Belle: “I learned a long time ago, that when you find something that's worth fighting for, you never give up.” (They both smile. Mr. Gold pours his potion onto Baelfire's shawl, and magic is seen visibly through it. Belle places the shawl onto Mr. Gold's shoulders.) Mr. Gold: “Here we go. (He crosses the town line, while Belle nervously looks on:) Belle.” Belle: “It worked!” Mr. Gold: “Yes, it did. It did.” Belle: “Now you can find your son.” Mr. Gold: “Oh, Belle, I so wish you were coming with me.” Belle: “As do I, but... It doesn't matter.” Mr. Gold: “And why not?” Belle: “Because you'll find him, and when you do, I'll be here waiting for you when you get back.” (Mr. Gold leans in to kiss her, but before he can, Hook appears, carrying the gun. He fires at Belle, hitting her in the shoulder and pushing her across the town line.) Hook: “I wouldn't count on it.” (Mr. Gold catches her as she falls.) Mr. Gold: “Belle? Belle! Belle!” Belle: “Who's Belle?” Mr. Gold: “Oh, no. No, no!” Hook: “Oh, fear not, she'll live. She'll just have no idea who you are.” Mr. Gold: “What you have done cannot be undone!” Hook: “Well, now you finally know how it feels! Well, go ahead, Crocodile, do your worst!” Mr. Gold: “Oh, I intend to.” (He magically summons a ball of fire and prepares to launch it at Hook when the sheriff’s car drives up and Emma, David & Mary Margaret exit.) Emma: “Gold, don’t!” (Ignoring her, Mr. Gold hurls the fireball at Hook, hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying several feet away.)

Belle: (As Mr. Gold returns to her:) “Who are you? What's going on?” (Hook grunts in pain on the ground. Belle reaches to touch her wounded shoulder and shrieks in pain.) Mr. Gold: “No, No. Let me. Let me. (He magically fixes her wound:) All better. Good.” Belle: “How did you do that?” Mr. Gold: “There's nothing to be afraid of. Shh. Belle, please.” Belle: “What are you?!” (David, Emma, and Mary Margaret approach.) David: “Are you okay?” Emma: (Speaking into her cell phone:) I'm at the town line. Two people down.” David: “What's going on?” Mr. Gold: “She crossed over the town line. She doesn't remember.” Hook: (Emma approaches and stands over Hook:) “Hey, beautiful. Here I didn't think you'd— (Emma touches his chest:)... notice! Ahh!” Emma: “Your ribs are broken.” Hook: “That must be why it hurts when I laugh. Did you see his face? His one true love gone in an instant! (Mr. Gold turns at the sound of his words:) Just like Milah, crocodile— (Mr. Gold approaches:)—when you took her from me!” (Hook attempts to get up.) Mr. Gold: “But you took her first.” (He bashes Hook in the chest with his foot.) Emma: “Gold, are you insane?!” Mr. Gold: “Yes, I am!” (He proceeds to use his cane to strangle Hook’s windpipe. David tries to pull him away.) David: “You can’t do this!” Mr. Gold: “I can if you let me go.” Emma: “You don’t want her to see that.” Mr. Gold: “I’m a stranger to her.” Emma: “Murder is a bad first impression.” (Hook wincing in pain.) David: “What would Belle want you to do? (Sirens blare loudly as an ambulance approaches. Gold hesitates and David forces him away from Hook. To ambulance:) Over here!”

Storybrooke. Present Day. Storybrooke General Hospital. (The hospital entrance. Sirens blare as Hook is wheeled in on a stretcher while Mary Margaret tries to calm a frantic Belle.) Intercom: (On speaker:) “Dr. Whale. Please report to the ER. Dr. Whale. Please report to the ER.” Belle: “I don't know what is going on!” Paramedic: (To nurse:) “Chest trauma, contusions, broken ribs.” Nurse: “Go to x-ray.” Emma: (Pointing at Hook as everyone else, including Ruby and Leroy trail from behind:) “Hide him.” (Belle is being led to another room by a different nurse.) Nurse: “What?” Emma: “Find a room and hide him.” (Mr. Gold walks into the hospital entrance) Mr. Gold: “Belle. What is going on?” David: (Shouting:) “Get him out of here!” (He blocks Mr. Gold's way.) Mr. Gold: “What's happening? Belle!” Leroy: “I'd like to know that myself!” (Two staff orderlies approach closely from behind.) Mr. Gold: “Belle! Belle!” (Ruby and Mary Margaret watch the struggle in the background in shock.) Dr. Whale: “Everybody, calm down. (Notices Gold:) Mr. Gold. Everything will be fine. She's in good hands here. I promise.” (Dr. Whale puts a hand on Mr. Gold's shoulder.) Storybrooke. Present Day. Storybrooke General Hospital, Hook's Room. (It’s a short time later and Hook has just woken up, only to find his hook missing and Emma sitting on the hospital bed.) Emma: “Where's Cora?” (Hook attempts to get up, but he is handcuffed to the bed.) Hook: (Raises an eyebrow:) “Again? You're really into this, aren't you? (He attempts to move again, tugging at his handcuff, but it is clearly too painful:) Damn, that hurts.” Emma: (She stands and steps to the side of Hook's bed:) “Told you. You cracked a few ribs. Where's Cora?” Hook: “You look good, I must say, all ‘Where's Cora?’ in a commanding voice. Chills.” Emma: “You have all sorts of sore places I can make you hurt.” (Hook flinches as Emma lunges forward as if to press on his ribs. When she pulls her hand back, he relaxes and sighs.) Hook: “I've no idea where Cora is. She has her own agenda. Let's talk about something I am interested in, my hook. May I have it back? Or is there another... attachment you'd prefer.” Emma: “You're awfully chipper for a guy who just failed to kill his enemy, then got hit by a fireball.” Hook: “Well, my ribs may be broken, but everything else is still intact, which is more than can be said for all the other bad days I've had. Plus I did some quality damage to my foe.” Emma: “You hurt Belle.” Hook: “I hurt his heart. Belle is just where he keeps it. He killed my love. I know the feeling.” Emma: “Keep smiling, buddy. You’re chained down. He's on his feet, immortal, has magic, and you hurt his girl. If I were to pick dead guy of the year, I'd pick you.” (Emma leaves, and Hook begins tugging at the handcuff holding him to the bed. He winces in discomfort, before trying again.) Storybrooke General Hospital. Belle’s Room. (Mr. Gold watches Belle lying in a hospital bed. She's asleep. Slowly he approaches her, bends down over her and kisses her. Belle wakes up, but when she realizes who is there, starts to scream and pushes Mr. Gold away.) Mr. Gold: (Quickly retreating to the door of the room:) “No. No, no. Belle. No. No. (Belle continues screaming. Two nurses enter the room, trying to calm Belle down:) I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” (Mr. Gold leaves the room.)

Storybrooke. Present. Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. (In his shop, Mr. Gold places the globe on the counter. Then he pricks his finger on the globe. His blood drops on the white surface. The globe begins to glow and after a while a global map appears. The state New York is dyed in a darker shade.) Mr. Gold: “Bae.” Storybrooke. The Next Morning. Mary Margaret's Apartment. (Henry enters the kitchen. Mary Margaret and David are preparing breakfast.) Henry: (Running down the stairs:) “You were out all night. Where were you? Granny wouldn’t tell me anything. Did I miss it all?” David: “Cereal, okay?” Emma: “Yeah.” Mary Margaret: “Rumplestilskin and Hook had a fight and someone got hurt.” Emma: “We weren't sure if Doctor Frankenstein could fix him, but he did.” Henry: (Puzzled:) “Doctor? Oh, that's who Whale is.” Emma: “Apparently, but without the neck bolts.” Henry: “The monster had the bolts, not the Doctor.” Emma: “Right. But either way, some of us having known him, it's weird.” Mary Margaret: “It's not weird. We're past it. We were cursed.” Henry: “What are you talking about?” David: “Nothing.” Mary Margaret: “Really, it's nothing.” Henry: “Wait. (He gets up and fetches his book. He is excited:) Frankenstein isn't in here. It's not even a fairy tale. That means he comes from another land. With different stories.” Emma: (Placing a bowl in front of Henry:) “Eat. I really want to go to bed.” Henry: “If the curse went to places with other stories, then who knows who else is in this town?” (There's a knock on the door and Mr. Gold enters the room.) Emma: “Gold. We've all had a long night.” Mr. Gold: “You remember that favor you owe me, Miss Swan? I'm cashing it in.” Emma: (Surprised:) “It's not a good—” Mr. Gold: “You do honor your agreements, don't you? I need to find someone, so we’re leaving today. Pack a bag.” Mary Margaret: “Leaving?” Henry: “Where?” Emma: “Wait. Find someone? Who?” Mr. Gold: “My son. It has to be today, because every minute I’m here, is a minute closer to me killing Hook. So it’s really best for all concerned if I leave, and you’re going to come with me. Oh, and, um, we have a long history. So know this, and know it to be true. If any harm comes to Belle while I’m gone, I’m killing all of you. I’ll see you at noon.” (Mr. Gold exits, leaving the Charmings, Emma & Henry looking deeply concerned.)

The End.

[ptw30]

Stunning art by @xblackpaladin

Fic: Broken Blade - Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four

A part of the Blade!Shiro series

Summary: Shiro learns the cost of awakening a blade. 

Author’s Notes: Please see this post for triggers and warnings. 

Pre-Voltron

The inky, black void of the cosmos reminded Shiro of a siren, its brilliant stars and majesty beauty luring him into its unfathomable depth. He struggled against its beckon and feared what would happened if he surrendered completely. Would he cease to exist, or would you finally become what the universe professed? And whatever that was, would it be worth the cost?

Shiro didn’t think he wanted to find out. Instead, he huddled upon the couch of his treehouse, staring at the viewer screen upon the far wall and trying to lose himself in the natural beauty of the cosmos. When the door opened behind him, the flash of light projected the silhouette of a tall but lithe frame, and without turning, Shiro knew to whom it belonged.

He waited until Kolivan came to stand behind him, his proximity a gift in its own right, yet Shiro still couldn’t raise his voice louder than a whisper. “…I don’t understand. I barely knew him.”

Kolivan’s heavy claw rested in the crux of Shiro’s shoulder, his thumb brushing along the younger blade’s nape. “There is no great mystery, Taka. Sanrik wished to protect you, so he did.”

“But why?” Shiro threw his arms wide; his legs dropped to the floor. “We spoke a few times over the annuals. We went on maybe a handful of missions together. That’s no reason for him to give his life for me.”

“He gave his life for the Blade, not specifically for you.”

Shiro shot to his feet and spun to confront Kolivan, ignoring the tears that stung his eyes. “It was my mission. That blast was meant for me.”

“And he stepped in front of it.”

“That – That makes no sense. The mission’s most important, not me. Maybe because I’m a paladin? He thought he should give is life for – ”

“Stop,” Kolivan growled, hands tight, eyes furious. “No one but the pack knows you are a member of the Voltron Force. It would be too dangerous for anyone else to carry that knowledge.”

“But then why – ”

Kolivan appeared at a loss, hands rising open and encouraging, though a tiny tremble stole Shiro’s breath. “I thought we made progress. I thought you finally understood.”

“Understood what?”

“You are worth the sacrifice, Taka.”

Shiro couldn’t accept that. He couldn’t believe that his life meant more to Sanrik or that he deserved to be standing there instead of his fellow blade. He should have taken that hit. After all, he was the Son of the Blade and the field commander of that mission. If anyone should have not returned to the base, it should have been he.

Kolivan came about the couch to clasp Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro wanted to remain strong, wanted to fight the tears threatening to overtake him, but he eventually lost the battle, collapsing into Kolivan’s cradling embrace. Though he’d lost warriors in battle before, none had actually sacrificed themselves for Shiro.

Except Moira.

Thoughts of his stepmother made Shiro wince, and when he pulled away from Kolivan’s chest, the leader let him.

“Kolivan, you – you’ve spoken to my mom, right?”

Kolivan studied him before relenting with a hesitant nod. “A few times over the years. Why do you ask?”

“If she’s part of the Blade, why doesn’t she ever come to the headquarters?” It had been more than a decafeeb since he’d last saw her, and after his last mission, he wanted to see her one more time, in case… “Ulaz and Thace have positions in the empire, too, but they come back all the time.”

If anything, his question seemed to upset Kolivan, whose expression hardened again. “Your mother is not welcome here anymore. She is no longer part of the Blade.”

Shiro stiffened. “What! Why?”

Kolivan’s glower remained neutral, and his face gave away none of the truth. “I do not believe now is the time to discuss this issue.”

“Are you kidding me?” Shiro snorted. “I’ve known you for seven annuals! You never thought to tell me in all that time that my mom –”

Kolivan’s voice remained steady, as if he forced the truth from his lips, “When another awakens a Blade, it is a sign that the bond of secrecy and trust has been broken. The original member is no longer welcome among us.”

Shiro silenced. It was his fault his mother was no longer a member of the Blades? Because he awakened her blade, she could no longer return to place she’d called home?

Kolivan refused to allow him to suffer. “Moira gave you her blade because she wanted this for you, Takashi. She wanted you to join the fight alongside us, so do not mourn her loss. Instead, honor her sacrifice by carrying on, by fighting the Galra as one of us.”

Shiro wanted to listen to Kolivan and believe him, but he couldn’t, not with the weight of the blade against his back and the searing ache deep within his chest. Now, he cried not for one loss but for two.

 Post Zarkon Command System Attack

The campfire brightened the small area of the desert planet and afforded the gasping Shiro just enough light to make out his brother's worries features. Shiro wished he could ease Keith's fears, but the burning, glowing wound upon his torso worsened by the moment. If Coran and Allura didn't find them soon, Shiro held no doubts about his eventual end.

"Keith...if I don't make it out of here - "

"Don't talk like that,” Keith snapped. “You're going to make it."

"...I want you to lead Vol - "

"No!” Keith lunged to grip Shiro by the shoulders but stopped when Shiro flinched and hissed. “You’re bonded with the Black Lion. It chose you to lead us – "

"I know, Keith." Ancients, why couldn't his little brother just accept the truth for what it was? "But I'm not going to make it out of this – "

"You made it out of Drule Central, and you survived a year in the empire."

"Keith, please…this isn’t the same thing."

"Kolivan chose you to be his successor, and he wouldn't have done that – "

"He did it because he didn't want me to be a paladin. He wanted to give me another option – "

"Is that why we haven't gone home since you escaped?" Keith asked, those amber eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.  “Because you chose to be a paladin over the Blade – ”

He couldn’t do this now. “No, Keith. Look. Gasp! What happened between Kolivan and me – it doesn’t have anything to do Gasp! with – ”

“You didn’t see him, Takashi,” Keith pressed. “The way he came back to the headquarters. The way he refused to speak to anyone about it, even me and Antok. He just –”

Not. Now. "Keith!" Shiro's side burned, and he hissed every word through clenched teeth. "...it's not like I don't want to go home...it's just...” Ancients, it hurt to admit. “I'm – I’m not sure I’d be welcome if I did."

Keith's tail fell limp; his ears twitched. "What do you mean?"

Gasp! "...I cost Ulaz his position in the empire, and...I – I compromised the Blades' mission. No other member in its last ten thousand years has caused so much damage to its agenda."

"But you also helped us find Voltron,” Keith said. “You helped free the Balmera, and behind you, we're going to defeat Zarkon."

"...If I live that long."

Keith's tail slithered about Shiro's wrist and tightened in wordless comfort.

They sat like that for a long time, the campfire crackling and casting shadows upon the barren landscape. Shiro tipped his head back against the rock, inhaling through his mouth as his wound stung something fierce. Keith sat by his side the entire time, tail never wavering in its strength, eyes continuously watching him, and though Shiro hated to think it, he could die here, having saved Allura and knowing his little brother would live. He’d done his part, brought Voltron together and readied the Paladins to fight for the universe. The rest was up to them.

Keith would have nothing of it. "Look, I promise to take over as team leader – though you’re going to make it – ”

Shiro snorted and clutched his glowing alien wound.

“— if you promise once we get out of here, we'll go home."

Shit. When did his kid brother start drawing hard bargains? In the back of his mind, Black mewled in support of Keith’s decision, and Shiro found the energy to shoot back, Traitor.

Sucking in a deep breath, Shiro let out a pained, "Kid – "

"No.” Keith refused to be dismissed. “We don’t have to fight this war alone, Takashi. You know that. We wouldn't have escaped Zarkon's Central Command if Thace hadn't stepped in."

"We don't know it was Thace."

"You know it was."

Damnit, he did.

"Takashi." The tail tightened about his wrist, frightened, pleading. "We can’t fight this war alone."

And they couldn't. Keith was right, no matter how much Shiro didn't want to admit it.

With a shuddering hand, Shiro petted the warm curl of his brother’s tail as he sighed. It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like he was ever going to have to face Kolivan again.

"Fine, fine,” he relented. “If the team saves us, we'll make our next mission to rendezvous with Ulaz. We'll see if he's talked to Kolivan and if the Blade is willing to accept our assistance. In return, you have to promise to watch over Black and the team if I don’t make it out. Deal?"

Keith shifted a bit closer, though his tail remained a constant warmth upon Shiro's arm. "You’re getting off this planet if I have drag your sorry tail, but...deal."

Of course, that was the moment a wormhole exploded in the clouds, and the Green Lion soared through.

Quiznak.

“I do not like this,” Allura affirmed, less than two days later after Shiro emerged from the cyropod. “The Galra – they are not to be trusted.”

“Your father must have trusted them once,” Shiro insisted, typing coordinates he knew by heart into the computer. “Zarkon was the original Black Paladin.”

Lance started. “Wait. What?”

Allura’s shoulders tense as she reared back, mouth agape, though Keith interjected for her, “Didn’t you see how Zarkon stole the Black Lion right out from underneath Takashi or how he could do all that cool stuff with his bayard? Takashi’s bayard? You know, the black one?”

“I wanted to save you from the dark history of the paladins, so you could have a chance to bond with your lions on your – wait a tick.” Allura’s eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare. “You knew Zarkon was the original Black Paladin.”

Takashi didn’t need to turn to know her eyes bore into the back of his head. “Yes. It is why we must meet up with the Blade of Marmora. We can’t win this war alone.”

This time, Allura remained silent. He was, after all, right. (Thanks, Keith.)

“Besides, you said you wanted me to show you the Galrans you remember, the same people who inhabited Daibazaal all those years ago. Allow me to do that now.”

For a long moment, Allura debated, her stern glare never wavering as she glowered at Shiro. Then, her eyes flicked to Keith, as if to remind Shiro she’d already met a Galran who represented the old planet, but she refrained. Instead, she let out a brief sigh and straightened her shoulders.

“Shiro – the Galra, they’ve done…terrible things. They took my family, but in time, I’ve grown to see you and the Paladins as my family now. I – I cannot let anything happen to any one of you, and trusting the Galra again – it is unconscionable.”

“But you trust me.” Perhaps he should have phrased it as a question, but it wasn’t one.

Though it was slow in coming, Allura agreed with a nod.

“Then when I say I would die before I let anything happen to any member of our pride, know it’s the truth.” He motioned toward his shoulder and the inkling that lay underneath his long sleeve. “I cannot fathom what happened to you or Altea, but with the Blades’ help, perhaps we can stop Zarkon once and for all.”

Once he received approval from Allura, Coran brought the Castle of Lions to life. Lance came to his sister’s side, folding his fingers with hers, while Keith bookended her on the opposite hip, his tail encircling her trembling wrist. She smiled not at Lance but at Keith, brushing her fingers along the tuff of his tail.

Not even Allura’s cold disposition could survive the tender warmth of Keith’s adorable purrs.

Her hostile temperament returned, however, when the alarms went off on the bridge about a varga after the team arrived in the Thaldycon System.

“I knew it was a mistake coming here!” Allura bellowed as her hands swiped across the transparent screens, bringing up the castle’s cameras. “There is he! Level five.”

Shiro recognized the lithe build of the intruding Blade and fought against the emotions that threatened to constrict his voice. “Everyone, suit up!”

Shiro snagged Keith before they left the armory and made a quick plan. Ulaz would never suspect that Shiro would use his precious baby brother as a decoy, and if he only admitted it to himself, Shiro wanted to see just how far Keith had progressed in his Blade training. He was not disappointed.

Despite Lance, Hunk, and Pidge’s efforts, they were still untested in battle. The few victories they wedged out came from sheer luck and relentless perseverance, but neither would work against a trained operative like Ulaz.

Though Keith still couldn’t battle Ulaz to a standstill, he worked in tandem with Pidge and then continued to attack, refusing to give their pack member a moment of reprieve. His swift, continuous strikes distracted Ulaz enough to allow Shiro to sneak up behind the Blade, and though Ulaz noticed him almost immediately, the damage had been done.

One swift movement by both, and Shiro sucked in a swift inhale, Ulaz’s blade mere inches from his face. Shiro’s weaponized hand hovered just under his surrogate father’s chin.  

Shiro feared. Would Ulaz shun him? Did Kolivan explain to Ulaz what hadn’t known about Shiro’s capture? Would Ulaz hate him for surrendering, for giving into his status as a lower lifeform and mate to Sendak, rather than dying at the hands of the empire’s most powerful commander? Did he understand Shiro’s position now, an outsider who had lost the simple luxury of a place to call home?

But after a moment, Ulaz stepped back, dropping his weapon and dissolving his mask. The Galran’s calm but joyous smile dismissed all of Shiro’s misguided apprehension, and the Blade opened his arms in a welcoming gesture.

Before Shiro could fold into the circle of them, Allura slammed Ulaz against the wall with a single hand on Ulaz’s chest plate, her colossal strength impressive before and frightening now.

“Who are you?” she demanded, but Shiro instantly rushed to her side, hands up in a surrender position. “Stop! This is the Galran who saved Keith and me all those years ago in Drule Central.”

Despite Allura’s painful grip upon him, Ulaz’s eyes never diverted from Shiro’s gaze. “You’ve come,” he murmured.

They retired to the lounge for their discussion, Allura not wanting a Galran – any Galran – on the bridge of her ship. Shiro managed to convince Allura that Ulaz didn’t need to be restrained, only for Ulaz to mutter, “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

Shiro wiped a hand down his face. “Not helping.”

“Are your Galra threats supposed to win my trust?”

“I’m not trying to win your trust.” He already had Shiro’s and Keith’s. “I’m trying to win a war, and because of Shiro, we are closer than we ever have been.”

Keith’s tail knocked into Shiro’s side, and he wished he could feel the surge of pride that always came from Ulaz’s compliments. Instead, all he felt was cold dread. “Ulaz, do you think you could send a message to Kolivan? We need to find out if the Blade would be willing to form an alliance with us.”

Utter confusion swept across Ulaz’s expression. “I don’t understand your hesitation, Shiro. Why don’t you reach out to Kolivan directly?”

“I’m – I’m not quite sure if Kolivan would be willing to listen to any request I make. I’m hoping if the request comes from you, he might be more apt to –”

“Waitaminute!” Lance interrupted, hands falling to his hips. “Nononono. We did not come all the way out here to the middle of space nowhere just to speak with your space ninja mom because you’re afraid to call your space ninja dad!”

Shiro was the Black Paladin, the decisive head of Voltron. He needed to maintain a certain level of decorum in order to expect the other four paladins to listen to his  –

“Yup.” Keith thumbed his way. “Apparently, something happened between Takashi and Kolivan on the mission, and Takashi was captured by the empire – ”

“Keith!”

“What? It’s true.” He motioned toward Ulaz, eyes glimmering as he crossed his arms. “You did come all the way out here to speak with Ulaz because you’re afraid of Kolivan.”

“I’m not afraid, Keith.” Ancients, he didn’t want to talk about this now, especially in front of everyone.

“Then what did happen, Shiro?” Ulaz’s hand came to rest upon his shoulder, comforting and unnerving at the same time. “What has you refusing to speak to Kolivan or returning to the headquarters? It is your – ”

“ – it’s not my home, not anymore.” With a disparaging sigh, Shiro struggled to meet Ulaz’s gaze and ended up staring at the taller Galran’s shoulder. “It was my blade Keith awakened during his trials. I’m no longer a member of the Blade of Marmora.”

To Be Continued…

More from the Blade!Shiro series

[immortal-journal]

Bomb

August 12th, 2045

“In today’s latest news, world war three has officially began amongst the allies with the attempt of destroying the United States of America’s nuclear arsenal by the British empire. The United States tried to strike back with their go towards trying to detonate the London bridge. Japan has not declared war on its other neighboring countries, in an attempt to keep peace amongst other dueling countries. For more updates concerning the war, listen to the NPR app or your local radio station.”

This is what they’re trying to do, with instigating “peace.” Human’s naïveté when witnessed makes me want to laugh and point at the stupidity portrayed to the ignorant public. My eyes scanned the Tokyo freeway I was on, every car filled with humans fighting with their spouse about where they should eat dinner, miserable commoners who are yet to embark on their 9-5 work schedule that makes them want to scream, or it might even hold terrorists and murderers ready to sacrifice innocent souls for their own agenda.

Tokyo sat before me, a wide city filled with 38 million people, the most populated city in the world. I knew that this city would soon be ashes, with the apocalypse happening. Oh, believe me I am truly devastated that the human race I have lived so long within the shadows will be ending like this. For thousands of years war has destroyed societies that have thrived for so long, and leaves rubble amongst the survivors to become the savages that they have so long tried not to become.

Why do you ask that I’m here? I wish to die. I know, whoever may be reading this journal entry probably is gasping in surprise at this sudden declaration. Why would someone like an immortal man wish to die? It is such an annoying question deciphered in dramatic monologues and lengthy poetry. When you’re like myself, someone who has come to seen the thousands of your mortal partners die, along with your children, and so on, you wish for death because loneliness is a living hell. I have contracted diseases before, tried to inflict physical damage on my body, I even tried to be eaten by many beasts whose bellies could hold ten of me, but no matter what deadly act I committed on myself, I still lived no matter if I tried to get eaten by a killer shark, or dived into a volcano on a remote island.

This bomb, this unmistakable evil, this is my chance to end this once and for all. Something of that magnitude that can turn something into ashes within a split second would have to apply to myself as well.

I looked around me, noticing that traffic has suddenly stopped on the freeway. Glancing around, I saw a young Japanese girl staring at me intensely from her window in a silver Nissan car parked next to mine. I smiled at her, giving her a friendly wave. But, she continued to stare. My smile instantly faded as I began to wonder what she saw when she looked at me. Did she see an old soul who is weary of living? I have came across children in my past lives who had a feeling that I was something not of this world. It was always a comfort to know that someone else out there tried to understand my existence, even if it was an innocent child.

The cars weren’t moving at all. Checking the time, I widened my eyes when I saw that I had been stuck in the same place for the past hour. I rummaged in my suitcase, trying to find my cellular phone to call the hotel I had stayed at the night before—

I jumped in my seat when a loud siren had filled the air. Other drivers and passengers whipped their heads around as well, surprised and anxious as to where that siren was coming from. It wasn’t a police siren, or a bullhorn sound, it was a siren that could represent a warning—

My radio suddenly turned on by itself. A static sound came from it, then a panting voice came on.

“Emergency! Emergency! Germany has fired a missle to Tokyo seek shelter—(static)—bomb is coming—(an even longer period of static that had me wondering if the station turned itself)—Japan has entered into the war—SEEK SHELTER NOW!”

But it was too late. A pinpoint in the middle of the sky made its way slowly towards the heart of Tokyo. The descent was gentle, it looked like it would simply bounce off one of the buildings and die in its own grave. I knew that wasn’t the case though as my excitement helped me brace for impact—

It was a wondrous light. My hands were steady on my car’s steering wheel when the almighty bang of God’s wrath erupted in a terrifying jaw-dropping moment. Shinagawa was gone. My foot forgot to tap the break, causing my the front of my car to slam into the one in front of me that too was stopped along the shuto expressway. The roaring vibrations of the atomic bomb reached its cloudy hands into the air with a triumphant cheer of power, then rushed its tide towards the freeway. Car doors began to fly open as the humans helplessly tried to outrun the incoming blast heading towards them. Their faces whipped around with the fear of death outlining their screaming mouths. Mothers holding babies tripped over crushed people that were lifeless on the ground like rotten debris.

And I, I enjoyed the beautiful view.

I was so close to the blast that I knew death would have to come. It was slow, watching death rushing towards me. I closed my eyes, and instantly I fell into a sleep so I could welcome death more properly. I thought it would all end in the blink of an eye, but it was outstretched seconds in the sound of a violin singing a sad love story. My mind still asleep, I could imagine what must be occurring. The crimson cloud of dust  enveloped cars steadily before me. Humans were beginning to jump over the side of the freeway to an alternative death. Others who couldn’t escape the freeway burned from the nuclear heat, their hands clawing out to the sky, their existence slumping over in an insignificant last breath.

I raised my palms upwards and titled my head back with a relaxed sigh. I’ve survived deadly events of war before, but never has this occurred. This was my chance, finally I will be given a chance to die like they can—

The heat swallowed me in a stunning kiss of passion. Dying came in stages. I felt the heat of a warm blanket covering me to induce a deep slumber. Then, the blanket continued to warm until the point of it feeling like a hot iron was rubbing lightly against my skin. The iron went deeper into my skin in the next stage, causing me to scream from the incoming pain consuming me. I was on fire, what is this I’ve experienced being burned badly by fire but never a fire made by man—

I found myself out of my car, slumped on the charred pavement. The rows of cars on the freeway that were destroyed by the bomb were blackened with fire filling the car and surrounding each car. I sought out the young girl that was staring at me and found nothing but a sticky hand print left on her car window.

How am I still have coherent thoughts? The tips of my fingers were charred and being caught in the wind of smoke that began to circulate the heart of the explosion. My clothes were gone, my hair was nonexistent. My eyes traveled along the length of my nude body. I was nothing but rubble and stripped flesh. I could see the white of my bones in my arms. Why am I not dead? I was a walking corpse. I was supposed to be dead from the explosion, that’s what I came here for I can’t live like this anymore—

I let out a strangled cry that went unanswered amongst the silence of the grave I was in. I am truly damned to not die. People used to think of me as a god due to this condition of mine. I looked at it as something I did to God that left me as a cast away from his good graces.

I was so tired. I didn’t want to lay on the ground because if I did, I would simply wake up a hundred years later and find myself as I was before. I began to walk, or shuffle is a more likely term for it, interweaving through the cars on fire. My eyes scanned the freeway, looking for survivors. Who was I fooling though? There are no survivors in a place like this. This was hell on earth. Shit, this is terrible.

I had to get out of Tokyo. There has to be survivors somewhere. But how would I find them?

I walked for several days without pausing for sleep, for food, or for water. I called out for survivors, for anybody that may still be alive. On the seventh day I was walking towards the coastline of Japan. I was still charred black, and my toes were beginning to hang off of my feet, making them dangle with every step I took. There was absolutely nothing. The smoke lessened the further I walked away from the heart of the explosion. The sun was able to shine through the ash clouds. Patches of light lit up the ground I walked along, grass, pavement, dirt, as if it was leading me towards refuge in this empty world.

Before me was the sea, and with a frustrated groan as I scanned my eyes before me, I realized that there were no boats around me.

“Shit. Of course.” This was the first thing I had said in days. I wanted to laugh, but physically and mentally I couldn’t stand it. My voice came out in a raspy whisper. My eyes closed for a second to let my thoughts sort themselves out. I was supposed to be dead by now. I wanted to finally, after a millennia, find out what happened after death. Oh, how I envy humans. They get to experience the moment their hearts stop and they can open their eyes to what waits for them in the beyond.

A shuffle of footsteps occurred behind me. I spun my head around, crying out in pain at the sudden feeling of being stabbed ran down my spine. Due to my damaged eyesight, I had to squint to see a figure moving uneasily side to side towards me. They became clearer with every step they came towards me. A light snow of ash due to the radiation drifted down upon us. Standing on the beach, I slipped sideways when my feet fell into the water. The salt of the sea dug into my exposed flesh that made me jump up from my position with fear that became adrenaline.

“Sir…sir…please…”

I looked into her eyes and tried not to take a step back in fear. Hey, I probably didn’t look as great as well. The side of this woman’s face was the color of raw cow meat that periodically oozed fresh blood onto the surface of her skin. Half of her hair was burned off of her head, along with her eyes taking on a color of black coal. As my eyes followed the length of her face, I noticed that her arm also was trying unsuccessfully to heal itself from the heat radiation of the blast. I looked into those coal black eyes, and tried to muster an apology for what had happened to her.

“I’m—I’m sorry—“

I’m not a sentimental person. I used to be during the Renaissance period when I was composing lyrical ballads in an inn about fighting for love when I saw Shakespeare coming up and an unmistakable desire to fall at his knees crying after his performance of Romeo and Juliet. My humanity was showing, I would’ve joked to a passerby who had no clue to my condition. I hadn’t felt an loving for somebody’s ideas and artistic mind since before the Black Death occurred in 1347. Let’s just say being surrounded by the disease, contracting it, and watching others die around you while you stay healthy is a depressing condition.

So as I stood before this woman, I wanted to fling my arms around her in a crushing embrace. I learned with my few hundred years living in an era of romanticism that being sentimental is exhausting. A person gets only a handful of decades with a chance to bestow kindness onto the world. It’s to leave their mark before they die, so then their name lives on. But what happens when your name can’t live on due to exposing yourself, but you still will?

I didn’t know exactly where this woman came from, so I mustered with my ravaged voice some words in Japanese to communicate with her.

“Hello, ma’am…what is your name?”

She didn’t say anything at first, for the sea replaced the silence she was giving me. It was an “akward” conversation, as some would say. Ready to repeat my question, she decided to answer.

“Aiko.”

Her voice was light but assertive, as if she was a mother who was able to bestow her will upon her children quite easily. She self-consciously adjusted the sodden white shirt she had on that was ripped along the seams, matching her denim jeans she also had on.

“Hello, Aiko.” I nodded my head in acknowledgement towards her. Usually when on the beach, one could hear the occasional shifting of human feet scurrying in the sand, or a seagull swooping low over other’s heads. But in this case, not a single sound can be heard but the power of the sea behind us. It frightened me, and made me sleepy. My body urged me to fall asleep so I could sleep through all of this, but I needed to find out what happened to everyone else. Her eyes looked over my corpse body.

I could tell she was in shock, but how was I supposed to help? The coal black eyes landed on my wrist.

Looking down, I saw that I had my diamond watch on still. I bought that watch back in Milan during the winter of 1986. I loved the 80’s fashion, that is the only area of art that comes closest to the renaissance period. And Aiko’s eyes were not wavering from it.

I didn’t have anything to do with the watch now. Society’s concept of time is nonexistent, along with their damned money currency. I reached towards the watch to take it off so Aiko could keep it, because why would I keep something that will make it look like I was a target—

It was the rock she was hiding behind her back that knocked me out. Usually I could withstand an attack such as this one due to my lengthy past of being hit in the head by blunt large objects. This was the first time though when I couldn’t handle the pain. My body fell flat on my back onto the wet sand before me. My vision swam in and out of my consciousness that allowed me to feel Aiko grabbing my hand to snatch the watch off, and not look back as she scurried away.

Of course, the one and only thing I didn’t want to happen happened. I fell asleep.

And I had awoken in dingy, dirty old pub.

Drool caressed my cheek from being pressed against the splintered wood table. A bottle of rum was open next to me with half of it already drained. Parchments of paper were scattered on the small wooden table I was sitting at, along with a bottle of ink and a quill waiting to be used.

Confused, I observed my surroundings. Drunkards clapping each other’s back in congratulations for drinking the most in their group, the hoof beats of horses on cobblestones outside loudly amplifying the drunken laughter, and tho scratch of an artist or a writer making their famous masterpieces made me sit up with excitement. Am I really here? Is this really happening?

I jumped up from my chair and hurried up to the bar. The gentleman shining a dirty glass with a dirty cloth didn’t reconigze my presence at first. Clearing my throat, the bar keeper looked up with an expression of annoyance at my interrupting his duties.

“Hello—uh, kind sir, would ye have knowledge of the current date?” God, I was rusty. I held my breath in the hope that that was convincing.

In response, the bar keeper gargled a ball of spit in his mouth and spat it into the cup. I tried not to feel repulsed at the sight. Humans have so much to learn in the coming centuries.

“It is the 5th of April in her grace’s year 1594, ye filthy drunkard.” He turned his back towards me to end our conversation.

“God bless!” I bowed towards the barkeeper’s back. I’m back, I’m back. I ran over to my table to grab my compilation of poems that I had been working on. The sleepiness I had been feeling was starting to slowly ebb away. I reminded myself to stop drinking rum after staying up for a week straight trying to write a play. It was Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet that made my stoic existence of the past hundreds of years to feel like something worth living. I could write a play, I told myself after viewing such a wonderful performance of how feuding families being the causation of two young children. How about, I thought to myself with my eyebrows pursed in creative thought, I write a play about an immortal who simply wants to find his death. The thing that everyone lusts over in this world can be turned sideways in this play to something that is a reaffirmation that mortality is a beautiful, mysterious thing.

While running out the door, I stopped short, for something was wrong. My chest gave a great shudder, as if it was trying to gulp a lungful of air that was already residing within it. Then, the feeling went away. How curious, I thought to myself. Shaking my head, I reminded myself to not drink so much rum, it gives me such vivid dreams.

I walked through the bar’s creaking door, ducking my head down due to its abnormal height. The smell of horse dung and rotten turnips with a touch of possibility greeted me in a warm welcome. I widened my arms to the smell, the sounds, and the sun trying in vain to shower its light through hanging clothes and London’s swelling, dark clouds. How bleak this would look to another’s eyes, but for me, this was where I ended as another soul damned to eternally walk this earth, and begin at a mind that can declare that they’re so much more than that.

Then, I saw him.

His scruffy hair mused in every direction from his fingers frustratingly patting it down in wait for an artistic inspiration. His dirty clothes dotted with ink from the writing of his most previous play that he finished last night. His smiling grin as he greets a friend of his who is lingering outside of the pub.

“Master Shakespeare?” I asked myself, daring to not believe it. I knew that it was him though, it was like I was living a memory of seeing him here in this very spot—

“Master Shakespeare!” I called to him over the noise of a crowded city. Naturally, he didn’t hear my call at first. I moved closer to him, bumping into an old lady selling killed chickens to passerby.

“Master—“

I stopped, for once again my lungs refused to work for me. What is happening? I stroked my throat in confusion. Trying to take a deep breath, I exclaimed in surprise when at least a gallon of water rushed out of my mouth. My eyes watered with humiliation and pain, but not a single soul noticed the puddle spreading along the dirt ground. My knees buckled beneath me from the rushing of more water making its way steadily up my throat.

“Help! Help!” I called out to the passerby that who could’ve at least patted me on the back with kindness. Hooves continued to clomp on the ground, beggars still asked others for a spare coin, and the smell of rotting vegetables and uncooked chickens coated my swelling tongue—

My eyes closed, and I found myself staring up into the sun. I was shaking from the coldness of the sea that has made my naked body shrivel with paleness and lack of food or water. I rolled my eyes with annoyance. Of course I was healed completely. I tried to move my paralyzed body that was steadily awakening from its slumber. Has it been a hundred years since I was knocked out by Aiko? Or two hundred? Oh, please don’t let it be a thousand.

Two faces peered into my vision. They were wearing face masks, along with body suits that shielded them from the abnormally hot sun. I had never been so happy to see human faces.

“Sir? Sir are you okay? Can you tell me your name?” Their accents were different from the Japanese. I had actually floated across the sea to the mainland. My mind spinning from the recent events, I opened my mouth to the strangers lingering over me, wishing beyond belief that I had passed over to the other side. My lingering doubts still led me to answer these two who found me.

“I Am the Immortal.”

[streamingthruamerica]

As if straight out of a horror film, our Airstream had been overrun by ghost ants. This wasn’t the first time we’ve seen bugs in the trailer, because bugs are an undeniable consequence of living outdoors, and a way of life. However, while occasional spiders, love bugs, moths, gnats, no see-ums, and mosquitoes had all managed to infiltrate our home at one time or another, it’s not until recently, that so many unwelcomed six-legged insects had made themselves comfortable without an invitation.

Long considered a well-established resident of South Florida and other tropical and subtropical environs, Tapinoma melanocephalum workers are thought to have illegally immigrated from Asia or Africa–where to this day, as an affront to our democracy–they continue to worship their queen, while spreading their vermin and contaminating our food.

Despite their small stature, at 1.3 to 1.5 mm long, I’m certain that had there been a border wall to protect us from this infestation, these pests would never have gone on to infiltrate the foundation of our trailer, and rob us of our American dream.

And had the FBI taken notice and properly profiled these larvae from the beginning, none of this would have ever happened. To be sure:

They have 12-segmented antennae with the segments gradually thickening towards the tip. Antennal scapes surpass the occipital border. Head and thorax are a deep dark brown with gaster and legs opaque or milky white (Creighton 1950). The thorax is spineless.

The gaster (swollen part of abdomen) has a slit-like anal opening which is hairless. (Smith and Whitman 1992). The abdominal pedicel (stalk-like structure immediately anterior to the gaster) consists of one segment which is usually hidden from view dorsally by the gaster (Creighton 1950). Stingers are absent.

The small size, combined with the pale color, make ghost ant workers hard to see (Smith and Whitman 1992).

At the very least, these ants have been extremely annoying, invading every part of the Airstream in a matter of days. We discovered them in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the closet, in the bedroom, and ON MY PILLOW! EWW! Leah has been reflexively swatting phantom bugs from her arms and legs at the the very thought of our new colonists. Quickly, ants were now to blame for every miscellaneous skin bump, itch, or irritation on her body.

While camping at John Dickinson State Park in Jupiter, it was hard to ignore the many ant hills throughout the sites. I backed the Airstream into stall #43, and soon located several small cones of sand with limited ant traffic. Being careful to not disturb them, I thought they might return the favor, but the ants had a different agenda.

“Oh my God!” shrieked Leah. “They’re everywhere! They have to be stopped!”

Leah laid into the ants like they were ISIS terrorists. Her flip-flop was a particularly effective weapon in her campaign to eradicate the enemy. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“Gotcha!” she bellowed.

She came down hard on the ants, but there was no quit in their little legs as they they rebounded in their crazy dance, scurrying around in all directions at once, before darting into their hiding places–provoking her ire and igniting her wrath.

“We’ve got to do something!” she vowed.

A trip to the garden section of Home Depot offered several interesting choices that promised instant relief, but we opted for Raid. Somehow, the notion of killing ants with a lightning bolt stirred our sado-masochistic sensibilities.

After returning to the Airstream, Leah tore into the packaging with a vengeance. Out popped eight plastic bait traps, looking like a mini Buster Keaton pork pie hats.

Declaring all-out war on ants, we strategically scattered them around the Airstream, often debating the locations of the most effective kill zones. For the most part, I acquiesced to Leah’s judgement, so long as I secured rights to wage war in the bathroom, which I considered my domain.

I closely observed the ants racing inside the aluminum channel along the wall, and knew exactly what I had to do. I wedged one of the little white poison pucks behind the soap dish, and waited for the feeding frenzy. After a minute or so, a curious ant came to inspect the trap, as if the Sirens were luring it to its certain death…

…and swallowed it whole.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “One by one, you will eat the poison and die!”

I launched into my end-zone victory dance with a firm belief that we were now winning the war on ghost ants like never before. And that there will be so much winning, that we will tire of winning so much.

**Feature Image: Ghost ant worker, lateral view. Drawing by Division of Plant Industry**

Home Invasion! As if straight out of a horror film, our Airstream had been overrun by ghost ants. This wasn't the first time we've seen bugs in the trailer, because bugs are an undeniable consequence of living outdoors, and a way of life.