#the spinning sky heads. the eye twitching. the scream of anguish.

[starryluminary]

I love it when he snaps. I love it when he’s mad. I fucking love Dave

[peachesofteal]

Restless

Morpheus/ reader AO3 - 1k words Warnings: All of my work is 18+ Minors DNI (regardless of explicit content or not) mentions of death, blood, reader harming herself. It's mostly just soft, sad, stupid, desperate, obsessed Morpheus. Emotional hurt/comfort-ish. Notes: If you read a Tear in your Hand or Silent all these Years, this is that couple. It takes place between Chapter 5 and 6 of SATY. Morpheus spends the night watching you sleep, and comes to a conclusion.

Morpheus watches you sleep, your eyes moving behind closed lids, the rise and fall of your chest too erratic for his liking. You have slumbered for hours like this, restless, and pained. He has tried to ease you into gentle dreams, tried to calm your agitated state so you may truly rest without feeling the anguish that plagues your waking hours. He has been unsuccessful, the pain you feel too deeply embedded in your unconscious for him to be as effective as he would like. To truly soothe you, he would have to return to The Dreaming. 

Something he cannot do. 

He cannot leave your side. Just the notion of it physically pains him, the idea that if he disappeared for even a moment you may slip away from him forever haunts every second you draw breath now. 

She didn’t mean to. 

The memory of your frail body, covered in your own blood, will live inside his being for the rest of his existence. 

Saved you from adding another dead lover to your list.

Sometimes, when he is alone in the shadow of the throne room, he allows his thoughts to grow dark and become governed by his anger and regret. His regret that he did not rip you from your realm when he first thought of it, his regret that he did not doom said realm to its miserable end by snipping the threads of fate. He could have. In some moments, like when he watched his sister cradle your near lifeless body to hers, he thinks he should have. 

You were almost lost. 

After everything, he almost lost you. The cold reality of what could have happened still shocks him, it nearly brings him to his knees. The knowledge of the damage he has done to your soft, gentle soul burns him. He thinks about your mother, who insisted you would forget, and move on, forgoing your love for him in exchange for another’s. 

She was wrong. 

You did not forget. 

And neither did Morpheus. How could he when you were the one that owned every part of him. When you were the one who tilted your head to the sky and howled beneath the rain of The Dreaming, screaming for him, crying for him, pulling storms from the clouds as if you were the shaper of form yourself. 

He has always believed that you were something different, that this love between himself and you surpassed even his understanding of things. His faith in this belief has certainly been tested, the elation from learning of your divinity crushed by the truth from Destiny, only for it be rekindled by what he knew was coming, what he has been seeing in other’s dreams. 

Though she may suffer, she will write words that spin the fabric of fate.

You twitch in your sleep, a low sound of misery coming from your throat, and he cannot help himself. He reaches out, stroking his fingers across your cheeks, brushing soft strands of hair away from your face. You turn, body shaking, fingers fisted in your sheets, face pushing into his hand as your mouth goes slack and another noise of distress spills from you. He wants to hold you, wants to feel your body against his, give you love and strength and tell you that everything will be okay. That he’s here, he will never let you go again, he’s so sorry for what he has done, and that he knows you did not intend to bring yourself to his sister’s arms. 

He wants to erase the imprint of despair he has left on your heart. He wants to tell you how proud he is of you for persevering, for continuing to write, for serving your purpose through desperation and anguish. 

You shudder, your body calling out for him, and he burns to comfort you. There is still such a distance between you both, and your rage bleeds crimson inside you, your anger with him and what he has done pushing its way between your souls. He is desperate to douse the flames, to explain everything to you, to have you see the truth and help you understand. Your hand shoots outwards with a grunt, and he catches it in his own, pulling it to his chest to lay against where his heart beats at a steady rhythm. Your brows crease for a moment and you still before you go back to shivering. 

Of course. 

He's moving before he can stop himself, sliding beside you on the bed and turning your body into his, shifting your head and neck so your ear lays flat against his chest, right over his heart. He fondly remembers how he’s held you this way before, the comfort of this position always soothing your frayed nerves, the lull of his heartbeat settling the consistent anxiety that buzzed in your mind. Its early morning, the sun already starting to rise, and he curses himself for not realizing what to do earlier. He knows the unease is still thrumming under your skin, but at least your body is settled enough now that it can find some rest. He closes his eyes, nose breathing in the crown of your hair, and strokes his hand down your back. An hour passes, and then two. He memorizes the feel of you in his arms, something he once feared he would never have again. 

You begin to stir, slowly coming awake and he moves, positioning himself in the low-slung armchair that sits away from your bed. Your limbs stretch, body shifting until you’re springing upwards in bed, frantic look of shock etched across your face until you find him in the corner of the room. 

“Have you been here all night?” 

“You were restless. I had to stay close to settle you.” He rises from the chair to make his exit, new determination growing in his soul. 

He would remedy this. 

He would explain everything to you, tell you the truth. 

He would tell you how sorry he is, how he is ready to spend the rest of eternity by your side, earning your forgiveness, loving you endlessly. 

He glances back quickly as you search for your clothing, the extension of your bare torso leaning over your bed nearly stealing his breath. 

He would give you his everything, make you his wife, make you his Queen. 

He calls to you over his shoulder, 

“Come downstairs when you are ready.”

[malvella]

hands of fate | vaelenora solo .

“ A nightmare might force you awakened. The tough life might force you awakened . ”

tw: gore .

     Vaelenora hadn’t realized she was falling until she felt the unfamiliar coolness of the stones beneath her cheek, a poisoned cup tumbling from her limp hand. Her final thought had been one of vague confusion, not knowing how or why she’d come to be lying on the floor when her brother was supposed to be finding the love of his life. Shouts and screams made the last of her conscious moments even more alarming with so many people calling her name that she couldn’t have decided which way to look even if she hadn’t been fading from the world. 

     From then on there was mostly darkness peppered with primarily unsettling dreams. At times they were soft and sweet, accompanied by the sound of her brothers’ gentle and coaxing voices as they bid her to wake, reminiscing on the times when Vaelenora had been small enough to carry through the halls of their castle. She’d fit perfectly in the crook of her eldest brother’s arm, and though Vaelyx had only been ten when she was born he’d vowed to protect her from any and all danger. He’d repeated those vows while she slept, his comforting words floating through the mists and clouds of her dreamworlds. 

     But his gentle words couldn’t protect her from the worrisome secrets Ceria divulged as the mistress of whispers stayed true to her title and breathed things Vaelenora would never have considered while the princess slept. The familiar woman’s voice still brought the young princess peace, but the mutterings of mistrust and murderous plots sent Ellie’s dreams spinning on a dark and twisting axis. Hands reaching from the sky to pluck her family limb from limb, like an overzealous child who didn’t know how to care for their toys. Except these were no toys. They were her brothers, sister, cousins who bled rubies and screamed their torment as the merciless fingers tore sockets from joints and plucked eyes from heads. Their blood would rain down on her face, mixing with her salty tears as she could do nothing but sob and yell, unable to move no matter how much Ceria begged her to stir, no matter how often her brothers bid her to wake and squeeze their hands. 

     Still those hands would plague the neverending darkness that was the world she waited within, and finally those hands begun to attach to arms, chests and necks, followed by the faces who’d been murdering her family night after night. But they were never one specific set. It was Lucius’ cascading hair mixed with the harsh severity of Chaol’s face set with Cassian’s deep and intelligent gaze. The features would change just as soon as they’d finally settled and suddenly Azriel’s brow would be drawn tight over the ship master’s sickly sweet grin while those hands continued to tear her family to pieces. It was a constantly rotating carousel of features spinning round and round as the faces of current and past small council members played her loved ones like puppets. 

     Finally her dreams came to another calming pause as Vaelyx’s voice filled her head once again. This time she swore she could feel the warmth of his hand in hers as he once again begged her to wake and squeeze his fingers so that he might know she was still somewhere well and wandering in her mind. And finally she was angry. It was a foreign and hot feeling in the heart of a sweet and gentle princess, but she’d seen enough of her brother’s suffering in her mind’s eye while the council and others had ripped him to pieces. Vaelenora would not stand for any more. She was angry enough for her lips to twitch, and for her fingers to flicker against one of his. Shouts for a healer filled the room and the prince’s hand pressed harder against her’s. Her eyes blinked open and she found that her dreams had been flawed while they’d painted her brother’s face with anguish, for as she woke she saw true worry on his features, an expression far more dire than any her subconscious had managed to concoct. “Vaelyx?” she croaked, voice confusedly tired despite not having used it for quite some time. “Vaelyx, are you alright?” 

     The healer had arrived and was checking her over while someone else called for a servant to send word to the small council. Vaelenora’s body tensed at the mention, a strangled sound of fear pushing it’s way past her lips at the thought of the faces who’d starred in her nightmares. “Wait!” was the instinctual command that wrenched itself from her. It had broken loose before she could stop it, before she could remember just how fragile her family’s human bodies were and how her new and anxious mistrust might cause suspicion. Nevertheless, her request was too late, and the news had already begun to spread through the Red Keep.

     The princess was awake.

[hwitzr]

"Lean on me, I’ve got you." bracing himself to get punched in the face, but still feeling the need to take care of him hehehe

ASK MEME. ACCEPTING. @eraseur

flames and ether rush through veins, flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike as limbs stiffen. sodden in drizzle with rain still falling alongside industrial smoke, katsuki can barely bring himself to move from where he lays. the ground is wet, puddles forming beside and the rally of rain-clouds weigh down the vertical-flowing sky. wait. the sky's not meant to sway in some odd downward flow, is it? he groans. his knee feels twisted sore under the guard, head near spinning with every twitch; clockwise, paused, reversed until his eyes fall shut again. a concussion, of course, and it seems a dislocated knee. they aren't the worst injuries he's suffered, far from the outpouring anguish that came with building his palms' callouses, but it still stings. [ in what way, katsuki can't quite place. ]

retracing his steps in the forms of memory, he knows he was careful to avoid damaging the practice buildings foundation, that he'd barely set off anything bigger than a spark. he couldn't of caused the collapse. katsuki wasn't an idiot. no, clearly someone else hadn't gotten the memo of being careful. fortunately for them, he had grown rather skilled at shooting himself out of windows even if his landings remained rough. his finger twitches. his shoulders ache. a piercing-quiet setles as the droplets ease their torrent, the sound around faded and dull. wisps of simple musing sing in faint tide-rhythm flows, half-thought things which easily muddle between themselves. cringing forms in the crowded air scuttle and flutter in and out, leaving in their place an odd semblance of rest. it's easier to exist with his eyes closed.

then, all at once, noise thunders back to him and brings with it a penetrating pain that leaves him wincing. it just makes the headache worse. echoes of raindrops, shouts of his class and the steady pace of footsteps soon encroaching towards his muddied sanctuary all roar undisturbed. katsuki is sure this is what hell must be. loudness and company. if it's izuku coming over, i'll scream, he thinks distantly but instead, it's his teacher. aizawa's voice is lost to the sea of riot and bombast, barely lessening even when katsuki manages to peel open his eyes. there is a sharp inhale that comes from one of them before he's moved. the world begins to spin faster and katsuki smacks a gloved palm towards aizawa's face to make it stop. he grins when it hits and squawks when it does nothing to stop the shifting ground.

❛ fuck you. ❜ katsuki says and hopes it conveys everything he feels before his eyes shut again.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Blood in the Library

Well, I finished it even though I was planning on posting it tomorrow. Not my grandest piece, but to me it has a delectable taste of whump and a little comfort seasoning. Mmmm yum. You can tell I'm hungry. Anway, this is shorter than normal, but, not to be a spoiler, still has my classic cliffhanger.

Warnings: gorey descriptions of blood, collapse/loss of consciousness, descriptions of murder, begging, descriptions of someone's lack of weight and muscles

~

Then he just... collapsed?

Fell down the stairs in epic slow-mo, eyes turning white just before his head cracked against the concrete surface. Face growing into a snowy blanch as his injuries caught up to his rapidly tiring body.

Civilian rushed forward in a desperate attempt to catch him, but it was an effort close to pointless. He had already fallen deep into a pit of blackness and painless sleep.

Civilian scooped up his fevered body and hugged him close. His bloody head lolled limply across her chest until it settled in the crease of her shoulder, content to just rest there for eternity.

Civilian's eyes scouted his body, taking in the countless bruises and pools of blood. It was a horrendous sight- one that would make a squeamish person retch with revolting nausea. But she wasn't one for that, so she pressed her hands firmly against the worst of the bubbling blood geysers to staunch the streaming flow.

When the blood flow minimized to a manageable amount, she grabbed her phone and proceeded to call the ambulance, but a weak hand stopped her.

Civilian looked down to see fluttering indigo-colored eyes meeting her own rustic browns. They were, indeed, more than beautiful- dare say, gorgeous to some degree. Civilian couldn't help but admire them. The way green swirled into navy... it was a sight that she didn't want to stop seeing.

But of course, her wish was denied when the poking and prodding of the situation reminded her that the injured man was awake and quite distressed.

"No," he begged. "No...nnn, no stop stop... phsl-phslease please no." His shaky hand floated about aimlessly, but the dark azure eyes guaranteed the intensity of the weakly said plea.

For a split second, Civilian was dumbfounded before realizing that she needed to comfort and soothe the man.

"Hey," she set down the phone. Immediately, the man's anguished features relaxed, looking approvingly at the laid phone.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," she told him, not quite understanding his sudden placidity- the painless look of serenity in those irises. It was as if all agony faded with the simple gesture, but the quivering of his lips and sporadic twitches determined otherwise.

"Not that," he slurred in incomplete syllables, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to stay conscious.

"Okay," Civilian went to pick up her phone again, to call the much needed paramedic, but a sudden outburst from the man made her drop the phone, startled.

"No amb'lanch," he cried, but it was a waste if energy. His head dropped back against her, eyes rolling backwards once again. Civilian shook him to the waking world.

"Who are you?" She asked as if that would give her some clearance about not calling the ambulance.

"Villain..." He mumbled, slurred and incoherent, but Civilian heard it as if it was screamed at her. Then, his eyes shut all the way and he was lost to the world.

Civilian dropped the man and scurried to her feet, hands grappling at her cheeks. It was... Villain. One of the most feared criminals in the whole city. The one who strung people up by wires to slowly kill them in the most gruesome way possible.

The one that even heroes didn't dare to cross.

And he was passed out at her feet, bleeding and barely breathing.

She should've turned him in. Turned him in so that the proper authorities could finally arrest the menace that plagued the city- especially now that he was subdued and probably very compliant.

Yet... he was shivering. Shivering from the cold, exhaustion, and pain. It would be merciless to leave him to suffer- possibly die- alone. Civilian had some morals affer all.

Villain didn't. That much was clear from the way he razed cities to the ground. It was clear from the way he mercilessly slaughtered innocents. And it was more than clear when he threw bombs in front of traffic to kill and destroy everything within a half mile radius.

But he was injured.

But he had killed so many others without even blinking an eye.

No one else had to die.

Now, Civilian was not a model of muscles. She was more accurately described as a "bag of bones". Heck, some people even told her to go to a doctor- she had grown in size since then, but still.

So, linking her arms and dragging the villain a foot unlocked new muscles that she didn't even know she had. Not that she had the muscles, but after walking just a little bit, she was exhausted and sore.

"How?" She sighed and slumped down to the ground. The villain was still asleep, not bothered by the ninety degree turn Civilian maneuvered him in.

The library that Civilian volunteered at was lazily sitting itself against the sunset in a silhouetted painting. The stairs leading up to it- the ones Villain fell down- weren't too tall... ish? No, they towered over the pair, guarding the marbled building. White pillars supported the small tiled canopy with vigor, giving the quaint building a classic Roman Empire vibe.

Inside was a small isolated office where Civilian spent her lunch break. It had an expresso machine to satisfy her zealous cravings for the brunette liquid with white creamer topping.

It also had a couple comfortable bean bags that were perfect for the villain to recline upon until he woke up. It wasn't like Civilian was planning on actually tending to the vibrant red gashes. Dragging him to a heated room was enough- a gifted treasure to the villain, she believed- and it would be unlawful to go any further.

It took maybe an hour until the fit figure and skinny one barged through the glass door- the only portion of the exterior that did not hold that Pompeii look. Civilian was dripping with sweat, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Villain had not moved. His face was still and lubricant.

Civilian laid Villain upon the red castle-like carpet that spread through the hallway of the library before shutting the dark sky out, closing the door and locking it.

She then took Villain to the earlier mentioned office with more ease for the red carpet made him slide like a bolt drenched in WD-40. She opened the office. Thankfully, unlike every other room in the building, the walls barricading it were made of plaster, not transparent diamond-shaped panel windows.

She laid him upon a gray beanbag and assessed his wounds before turning to leave.

But a small whimper made her spin back around.

Villain was awake, taking in his surroundings with dazed interest- not really understanding, but realizing his situation, or dilemma, depending on what his half-delirious mind thought. Finally, after a few slow moments of searching the walls for some hidden answer, those dazzling- and slightly familiar- eyes landed on the tiny body of Civilian.

Civilian didn't know what to say. Any statement her mind conjured was shot down with a contradicting question of "what if he asks this" or "won't that make me seem like I care for him".

So she settled on a simple question that anyone would've ask anyone.

"How are you feeling?"

The villain took a while to make sense of the peculiar question. He was, in fact, never asked that from anyone.

Not even-

He shuddered, not wanting to think of the one person who might've once cared for him.

"Weird," the villain replied, eyes shifting downwards to study the masterpiece done on him. Like paint, once it dried on the flesh-covered canvas, it would be an artist's hard work.

The end result.

"Like how?" Civilian wondered, despite her natural instincts to leave.

"Dizzy? Pain, hurts. Don't know," Villain forced himself to meet those kind looking eyes.

"You lost a lot of blood," Civilian answered, setting her body next to his. "I'm pretty sure these need stitches."

Villain nodded, blue eyes ragged with an uncharacteristic emotion. Fear, almost.

"You... Civ'lian?" Villain slurred, his body threatening to shut down once again.

"Yes," Civilian replied. "I am. And you are Villain." The words tasted like hot sauce in her mouth. She just admitted outloud to herself that she was caring for a villain. The most notoriously evil villain in the city, if that fact wasn't stated enough.

"Know you..."

"No, I think you are delirious."

"No. Know you," the villain asserted.

"Okay... who did this to you?" Civilian asked, watching the rapidly fading Villain's face.

"My boss and m' brother," the villain responded, his eyes slipping shut. "...Hero."

The world seemed to stop as the last word was uttered. Hero?

Those eyes. The familiar captivating gaze held in those blueberry-flavored irises. The notable green swirls, speckles of black dust... those were Hero's eyes.

Those were her boyfriend's eyes.

[xhanisai]

Without you, what is the point?

AO3 / FFN

Summary: The relief was instantaneously doused with ice cold water, freezing Ladybug from head to toe as Noir asked the question that has been eating him away since he woke up. "I want the truth, and the truth only..."

.

"Who the hell was that white monster?"

( One second Ladybug and him were fighting a brutal akuma; a malevolent, broken person whose powers enabled you to experience the most traumatising memory the person closest to you have suffered (an absolute insane method to enforce empathy), the next second, he was...Here.)

A/N: Was inspired by this post on tumblr to write this up and the delicious angst monster inside me rose like a motherfucker, ready to wreck havoc. Now suffer :))))) (Takes place after the episode: Ladybug. So, canon divergent.) "Even if I cry, even if I smile, even if I hate, I'll live my life with love" Samurai Heart (Some like it hot!) - SPYAIR ~(x)~ . . . 'What...what is this!?' 

Chat Noir's knees buckled before he could comprehend, collapsing to the surface he was perched on, eyes wide open and lips parted in absolute horror. Icy, sharp shivers ricocheted through his veins, his entire body shivering as he frantically observed the dystopian element around him and choked. One second Ladybug and him were fighting a brutal akuma; a malevolent, broken person whose powers enabled you to experience the most traumatising memory the person closest to you have suffered (an absolute insane method to enforce empathy), the next second, he was... Here. The remains of Paris and its monuments floated like motionless corpses in the deadly sea, his paralysed body stuck to a stray beam belonging to the Eiffel Tower like glue. The moon was absolutely shattered and split into halves up above, answering his questions on why the sea level was so high but generating more worries about how the satellite managed to get into that state in the first place. Most importantly, he knows with all of his heart and soul that the person that he considers the closest to him was his Lady...so what on earth did she experience? And when!? What the hell happened to their beloved home??? "YOU'RE BREAKING MORE THAN MY HEART NOW, MARINETTE!" Noir took a double take, leaping to his feet by muscle memory and whipping out his baton in combat mode, ready to protect Marinette at all costs from the angry voice, only to pause and his body to become paralysed once more. His mind speeding faster than the speed of sound as the dread that rooted itself in his stomach started to build up and spread out like a plague, muscles twitching with the fight or flight response. "Ma...Marinette? This is...Marinette's memory?" His lips trembled as he murmured to himself, vaulting away from the area with his weapon and hastening towards the sound of the horribly familiar voice. The cogs were starting to click in his mind but the more he saw of the destroyed city, the more apprehension gnawed on the base of his skull, his brain screaming to get the girl to safety no matter the costs. His heart pummelling his chest as the jitters inside pressured bile to build up in his tight throat. By the time he reached the area, Chat Noir felt like his soul left his body, shackling his frame on a lone, abandoned pillar as his face blanched with terror and gutted him. "Give me a hug...MARINETTE!" Chat Noir couldn't do anything but blink as the stark, white...imposter attacked, his Lady (his princesse) scrambling to her feet in order to dodge the infinite amounts of ancient destruction that was headed her way. Alabaster discs of elimination barely grazing the surface of her suit... Blinding power surges of eradication decaying the area she was momentarily stranded in mid-run... Omnipotent beams of slaughter swallowing everything it touched... All the poor blonde could do was gape inaudibly, every attack his doppelganger threw and every aghast expression Ladybug made, branded to his brain mercilessly until all he could see... ...Was black. ~(x)~ "Chat Noir! Chat! CHAT NOIR!"

A voice... "Chat, please wake up! CHAT!"

Her voice... Before the girl cradling him on her lap could breathe, Chat's eyes snapped open and the boy exhaled sharply, shooting up into a standing position and scanning his surroundings like a cornered, frightened animal. His ears, both human and feline, were deaf to Ladybug's queries as blood roared in the drums, almost didn't feel her hands clasping his forearms as he whipped his head around back and forth. The odd silent rooftop they were stranded on allowed him to scour the city, proving that Paris was still intact. The moon up ahead was still whole and luminous in the night sky- perhaps brighter than it usually was. No akuma around- most likely defeated by Ladybug solidarity. And... And, there wasn't a white cat in sight, much to his relief... "Chat, breathe." Finally, the teen clad in black acknowledged his Lady, the girl now cupping his cheeks, fingers digging through his blonde tresses and eyes both soft and wary. "You're safe now. I'm here." She added, knotting her digits into his strands with a sigh. Thankfully, the hero visibly relaxed, pupils no longer constricted to mere, dangerous slits and his erratic heartbeat was now simply an echo in his aching chest. He allowed himself to lose control then, pulling Ladybug into his arms despite her squeaks and hiding his face in the crook of her neck, the shock and confusion from the event that just transpired mere seconds ago like a nightmare ravaging through his flesh. The hair on the back of his neck stood up on its ends and his sentient tail wrapped around them both like a ribbon, bringing them closer and closer. Chat didn't even note the soft purr that escaped his body, a defense mechanism that he was usually absolutely embarrassed about. Ladybug let out a softer sigh this time, body losing tension as her lashes fluttered shut and she inhaled his familiar, fresh scent to keep her grounded. His soothing purrs contributed to the break down of intensity. She felt goosebumps rise under her suit as his claws tentatively combed through her twin tails, tangling up with her raven locks and his soft lips parted open and shut against her neck, his breathing still coming out fast and unsteady. Despite her attempting to make him feel safe, she in turn felt like it was him trying to protect her, the anxiety and questions that she tried to push away flaring inside her body like a bomb. Yet, the way his figure perfectly curled around hers like a weighted blanket and the way his strong, toned arms pressed her against his chest, his heart beat drumming against her heart, allowed Ladybug to drop all her guard and simply indulge herself in his warmth. A selfish luxury that she tried her best locking away in the deepest crevices of her heart and swallowing the key. However, just one raw touch from her partner, one moment of weakness and the Pandora's box was opened, a waterfall of emotions and feelings seeping out of her pores with relief. . The relief was instantaneously doused with ice cold water, freezing Ladybug from head to toe as Noir asked the question that has been eating him away since he woke up. "I want the truth, and the truth only..." . "Who the hell was that white monster?" His face remained hidden under her jaw, his arms locked around her torso so that she couldn't escape. Not this time. He felt the way her form tensed up again, her breathing quickening and her lashes brushing against his suit wildly as she blinked her eyes open in shock. 'No...no! He couldn't have...he SHOULDN'T have seen THAT.' Ladybug screamed internally, panic welling up in her throat, causing all words to die on the tip of her tongue and replace it with a weight, her eyes quick to water with anguish. She shook her head, digging her fingers into his shoulders, physically begging him to let it go. "Y-You..." She sniffed, looking away to the side, guilt plastered all over her face and unable to meet the heated glare her partner directed when he pulled his head away to confront her. His arms remained an iron cage, one his Lady could break out of if she really wanted to but she remained limp in his hold. "You should forget about that..." She answered weakly, still avoiding eye contact. "Nothing good will come out of knowing-" Anger ripped through his body and Chat Noir's jaw clicked from the intense way his teeth grounded themselves against each other, his tail snapping against the floor with outright rage and his eyes as venomous as a predator's. "I'm not going to repeat myself again, Marinette." His steely hiss was a sudden, harsh blow against her screaming heart, the girl's eyes widening as she faced the pissed off boy, lips parted in a gape. "Who the fuck was that!? And when?? When did THAT happen!?" She shook her head again, prepared to counter back and deny everything he said no matter how foolish it was, only for her world to spin as he instantly swept her up, bridal style and took off with outstanding speed. The force of his enhanced power boost against the rooftop caused an explosion of cracks in the concrete and slates, his body like a bullet as he manoeuvred from rooftops to streets and lamps with leaps, twists and turns. The cargo in his arms doing nothing to hinder his speed and strength as the elusive black cat darted to his destination like a shadow ninja and almost invisible to the naked eye. Ladybug couldn't do much but keep her face pressed against his throat, her arms around his neck like a vice, her heart still clenching and unclenching under her ribs at the sudden revelation. He knew now... He knew who she was! She tried so hard to keep it a secret, so hard to protect him! Yet, just like everything else in her life, it blew up in her face! Tears streamed down her cheeks without permission, her mind anticipating a sudden visit from a disappointed Bunnyx who would undoubtedly berate her for destroying the future again and causing her partner's ultimate demise once more. What the hell did Maître Fu even see in her anyways??? The right thing to do now was take away her miraculous here and there and never let her come across her Chaton again! Not after knowing the pain that she will bring to him in the future. She would give up everything in the world if it meant that her partner could live a happy, safe future. Even if it's without her by his side. Suddenly, Ladybug felt her surroundings halt to a slow but steady stop. Experience with running at inhuman speeds allowed both heroes to polish off their sprints and landings- otherwise the heroine would have definitely been shot out of his arms the minute he braked. She tensed as her body was brought back to its bearings, her ears now hyper-aware of his thrumming heartbeat and her feverish face sensitive from her tears and Chat's body heat. With tenderness, a juxtaposition from his momentary frustrations earlier on, Chat Noir deposited Ladybug on her feet, his eyes hidden under his fringe and his frown breaking her heart into two. He kept his distance, perhaps a metre or so away from her, leaning against what she recognised as the railings of her humble abode's balcony. The teen girl swallowed, the sight of her home cementing the fact that her partner unquestionably knew who she was under the mask. And he absorbed the idea as naturally as breathing. As if it was no surprise that the girl behind the impenetrable mask was none other than herself. No questions, no double takes, like he knew all along... Tikki, despite Ladybug's lack of willingness, unravelled the transformation on her own, her charge frozen on the spot completely as if she was stark naked, hugging her body to herself. "T-Tikki!?" Marinette rasped, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed with slight betrayal. The little Goddess only sighed and delivered a comforting smile, stroking the teen's cheek. "You need to tell him everything. Don't worry anymore. I...I think it's time." "It's...It's time...? You- you don't know that! What if it's not!? What if Bunnyx pops out of nowhere right now and says otherwise!? What if another disaster happens!? What if-" "Marinette. Please. Trust me and talk to him." The kwami directed Marinette's chin to her partner who was yet to move a muscle, eyes still shadowed by his unruly locks and knuckles whitening under his suit from the tight grip on the railings. The French-Chinese couldn't help but shiver. Why couldn't things just be swept under the rug for now? Why couldn't things go her way for once in her life? "You don't need to be so tense." Chat's sudden words sent a jolt down Dupain-Cheng's spine, arms now folded behind her back as she nervously bounced from one leg to the other, bottom lip worried by her teeth. "I'm sorry for blowing up on you like that. That was such a dick move of me." He tilted his chin up, eyes now visible and gleaming with such melancholy that Marinette wanted to do nothing but envelope his sad little face into her arms and soothe his pain away. "I just...I need to know, Marinette. What did I see? What did you go through?" A beat of silence went by, sombre greens gazing into empty blues. The wind was almost silent and the arrondissement was asleep for the night, giving the two more privacy than they could ask for. Taking a gamble, Chat pushed away from the railings, approaching the girl hesitantly and decreasing the distance between them both. "This isn't something that can be forgotten or unspoken about forever, Princesse." His eyes were pleading, faux ears drooped against his blonde hair and tail slack against the floor. The glow of the moon and fairy lights made the scenario quite dreamlike and hazy but the feel of his clawed fingers entangling with hers indicated that everything was very much real. "I...I'd rather hear it from you than try to piece it together by myself. I don't want to jump to the wrong conclusions and I don't want anymore misunderstandings between us...no more...no more secrets, please." His eyes bored into her very being, heightening her nerves but at the same time, she wanted the very dams that were holding her back to finally break and bestow everything her partner deserved. She decided to take Tikki's advice, the little ladybug in question hidden away to give the pair some confidentiality. "Before I do," Marinette began quietly, rubbing a circle on the back of Chat's hand and peering to the side momentarily below her lashes and then back at him again. She bit her bottom lip, debating internally whether she should go with what she had in mind or not. "Can you promise me one thing?" "Anything." The boy replied without a beat, face intent and serious. Marinette nodded, as if to reassure herself first, squeezing his hand and her heart skipping a few beats when he squeezed back with much gusto. "Promise me that you'll still fight by my side, no matter what." "W-What? I mean, obviously I will! I told you many times, it's me and you against the world-" "Promise me!" The designer demanded, her face ambitious despite the way Chat almost jumped out of his skin. Her eyes were now pained and stormy but it was also determined and raw. The windows to her soul. "Yes...I...I promise." He squeezed her hand tighter and then grasped the other one with his spare hand, bringing both of them to his lips so that he can deliver a chaste kiss against the knuckles, his emerald crescents never leaving her gaze. He also smiled sadly, ears lowered in submission, knowing that what he will hear from now would make or break him. Letting out a shuddering exhale, a breath she didn't know she was holding, Marinette beckoned him to follow her to the back of her balcony so that the two could sit down against the wall. Originally, she was attempting to sit by his side, only for him to grab her waist and settle her on his lap, resting his forehead against her shoulder from behind and interlocking his hands with hers. If her silly partner pursued to make the same move a long time ago, before the events that occurred after Bunnyx pleaded her to save the future, Marinette would have pushed him away with jest and reprimand him for his lack of personal space. Now? Now she craved for every source and warmth from him. Now she indulged in every touch and smile he gave. Now she relished the way his heart beat in sync with hers and fit perfectly with her body. "Whenever you're ready," Chat prompted, the heat of his form setting fire in the pits of her stomach yet alleviating all the heart ache and suffering she endured for the past lonely, long months. She stared up at the night sky, leaning her head back against his shoulder, her blues then peering to the side at the golden strands that took over her vision as the hero remained with his face hidden. She played with his fingers and began to recall everything to him. ~(x)~ "...No..." His first word after she recited the entire event was no more than a breath. The boy was on his knees, sitting parallel to Marinette now as he couldn't stand being able to freely touch her, knowing what exactly he was capable of. "Chat?" Fear exploded in the girl's chest, her heart swelling with apprehension as she watched Chat tremble and eye his hands with indescribable hate. "...Chat Noir?" Regret was evident on her face, the loud, pessimistic persona inside slapping her for not keeping her mouth shut. "...I...I..." Immediately, the images of Marinette's memories that he stumbled across earlier on barrelled into his mind without grace, stabbing his brain with all the harsh truths and the utter devastation that he caused with one hand. The miraculous on his horrendous finger suddenly looked vile and disgusting, weighting the digit like a burden. A miraculous with a power like this does not deserve to exist- no. A monster like him does not deserve to exist. "I can't do this." The boy didn't dare to look at his partner, swift to twist the ring off his finger but was met with a strong lunge and wail from his companion before his detransformation could settle. "No! You promised!" Marinette cried, face hidden into his now, cotton shirt and shaking her head over and over again, repeating her words. The ring merely laid a few feet away from them, Plagg unable to eject himself from the jewel as the miraculous itself was rejected by the boy. "Marinette- how...how could you want me after all of that!?" His hands were on her shoulders, trying to push the distraught girl away but she remained persistent, latching on his shirt and refusing to see his face, his identity. "I destroyed the world! I-I-I destroyed our home! Our friends! Our family! You!" His words trailed into a sob and his voice cracked, tears cascading down his eyes. "I don't care...you promised! You're not allowed to break them! I won't let you!" Marinette's arms interlocked around his torso like an iron cage, body shaking with pure heartbreak. "You promised...you promised..." She chanted like a mantra, his shirt now saturated with her tears. Yet, Adrien couldn't help but be overwhelmed with not only her affection, but also his for her. Finding out that his Princesse and his Lady were one in the same was like a priceless wish granted by the most benevolent of Gods. Of course the girl he loved turned out to be his other half, his partner, his life. Of course the girl he loved turned out to be sweetness incarnate, a bundle of selflessness, his everything. But now knowing that he turned the very same person into a gaping corpse under the sea in an alternative timeline? "You deserve better...so much better..." Adrien whimpered out, ceasing his struggles to get out of her hold and giving in to his selfish desires, cradling Marinette against him with his arms. "You deserve someone who would never, ever have the power to hurt you. You deserve someone who can make you happy. Someone who you won't fuck up everything for you-" "Shut up! I don't want anyone else! I want you!" As if to emphasise her point, she headbutted his chest, earning a surprised grunt from him whilst her nails dug into his skin through the cloth. "And if you leave without the ring tonight, then I will no longer be Ladybug..." Her muffled threat was like a slap across the model's face, the boy pulled away indignantly, grasping her shoulders so that he could see her face. Marinette on the other hand, kept her eyes stubbornly closed, fingers still grasping on his shirt so that there was still very little distance between them. "Don't be stupid Marinette! Dieu, you are the most smartest girl out there- you shouldn't be spouting such ridiculous bullshit! Paris needs YOU. You're the only one who can do the damn job right-" "And Paris needs you too!" The bitterness and heat in her face then subsided, her shoulders slouching as Marinette hung her head low, exhaustion weighing on her soul. "I'm the one who messed up...I'm the one who caused the future..." "I'm the one who destroyed it! I don't see how any of this is your fault Marinette!" "But it is, Chat! I fixed it by undoing the stupid mistake that started all of it! But now, now? Everything...everything is ruined again! You're leaving me...alone..." Adrien felt his heart shatter at the way his love curled in to herself, her slender digits slipping away from his shirt to cover her face, her knees tucked against her forehead and her broken whimpers ransacking her body. Guilt, self-loathing and self-hate devastated his body to the point where he was choking on his sobs, his grip only tightening on her shoulders as his body shook with tears. He did this. He turned her into this. He's nothing but despicable, atrocious, monstrous- "Marinette! Adrien! Watch out!" Tikki's alarmed cries snapped the two out of their state, the former feeling the breath knocked out of her lungs at the sudden revelation of who exactly her partner was. The feeling was then replaced with ten times more pressure when she allowed her eyes to rest on his figure, more than enough evidence that the boy truly was her other half. Her body froze. Agreste on the other hand gaped at the fluttering akuma butterfly that made way towards them, grabbing Marinette instinctively against his chest and spinning them around so that his back was facing the detestable creature. "Adrien!?" Mari gasped against his shoulder but the boy only replied by pressing her closer against him, one hand cradling her neck whilst the other clutching the fabric on her back, a defeated smile resting on his lips. "No matter what, no matter the circumstances, you cannot be akumatised. If me alone managed to do what I did in the future, then the world would be absolutely doomed if you were to be under Le Papillon's control." His never ending tears kept falling, dripping into her hair as he inhaled her sweet, vanilla scent like a soldier going to war. As if this was the last time he was going to see her. "You. Idiot. STUPID!" Marinette tore herself away from him, slapping her hands against his dumb face and bringing it towards hers aggressively, a tiny part of her inside cackling at his bewildered expression. "Neither of us will get akumatised! Not now, not ever!" With that said and done, gaining a hopeful glimpse from her Chaton's eyes, Marinette slammed her lips against his, swallowing down his gasps as she attempted to give him the most passionate, meaningful, desperate kiss she could ever muster. All her feelings, her thoughts and wishes were poured into this one, singular, press of lips. Her soft, chapped pair bruised clumsily against his confused but sweet pair. Their inexperience and befuddled emotions made the kiss sloppy and painful, teeth clicking against each other and noses knocking with one another from time to time, the exhales from their noses causing their faces to tickle uncomfortably. The upcoming akuma was soon pushed to the back of their heads as the pair relaxed, Adrien tilted his head to a slight angle, reciprocating the kiss with more instinct and capturing her bottom lip, feeling Marinette shudder under his touch as his experimentally traced the seams of her lips with his tongue. She in turn pulled on his upper lip, slipping her hands away from his face and trailing them down his shoulders, resting them there and letting her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Their hearts pounded in sync, what seemed like years of unrequited pining turned into heat and more under their skin, swallowing each other's sighs and gasps. Their selfish desires, their yearning wishes, all granted into this collection of intimate kisses that only stole their breaths away over and over again. "Adrien, mon Adrien," Marinette couldn't stop the sweet little whisper that left her lips, brushing his. Her already rouge tinted cheeks simply reddened in full force as the boy gazed at her with so much love and so much admiration, it hurt. His response was to kiss her again, boldly slipping his tongue fully into her mouth as he pushed her down to the ground, one hand tearing off the ribbons in her hair so that they can comb through the silky tendrils and the other clutching her upper back, their legs entangled in a way that one wouldn't know where they started and where they ended. Marinette never felt such heat, such passion, such love in her life, ever. She let herself go, pushing away all logical thoughts and queries as she let herself sink into this wonderful feeling. Her mind rebooted every second, every moment as the duo explored each other's mouths and lips, noting down the silky feel of the flesh and the sensitive points. Adrien felt his heart swell to the point where he couldn't breathe. If being able to kiss Marinette like this forever was possible, he'd have definitely stayed like that. "Stay, Adrien. Stay..." Cheng breathed out, slowing down the kiss to a lazy, softer pace. Her request halted the boy in his movements, his lips which were puckered against her cheek tightened into a grimace. This time, Marinette cupped his cheeks with more softness and sweetness, her lips curling up into a timid, rosy smile. The strawberry complexion in her cheeks brought out the blue in her eyes, making them glitter under the moonlight. Slowly, Adrien took one of her hands off his cheek with his own, never breaking eye contact as he rubbed circles in her finger-bones and then applied sweet, feather kisses along the appendage. He let out an exhale, his lips carrying a bittersweet smile as he tilted his head to the side. He searched for any doubts, any distrust in her eyes but all he saw, much to his ecstatic boyish joy, was her never-ending love for him. Her doubtless trust in him. Like they were soulmates. "Are you...are you sure? That you want me? Even though I'm...me?" He wasn't used to such raw, positive emotions directed towards him. He has been abandoned, neglected and scorned at for so long in his life that the idea that such an incredible, wonderful girl wanted him of all people was unimaginable! Yet, this was his reality. And she kissed him...she kissed him like that. Like they were made for each other. Though, this in turn got him thinking about something else, confusion now printed on his face. His heart scowled, threatening him at gunpoint if he dared to ask the burning question. "Wouldn't...wouldn't you prefer to have the boy you like as your partner?" His question was met with a mischievous smile, an attractive raised brow. Marinette simply tugged his face closer to hers so that their noses shared a gentle kiss, her smirk widening. "Bold of you to assume that he already isn't." For the umpteenth time, Adrien found himself rendered speechless by his Lady, the redness in his cheeks blooming by ten folds as the puzzles and bridges started to connect in his mind. Albeit it took a while but in his defense, the hot kiss which should have been evident enough of Marinette's feelings for him, turned his brain to mush. "M-M-Me? All this time...I was my own rival???" His look of awe and shock then switched to deadpan and annoyance. Adrien groaned, shoving his face into Marinette's hair and wrapping his arms around her body. "I've been cockblocking myself..." "So have I," Mari stroked his hair, eyes closed with contentment and body completely knackered from the roller-coaster of emotions she's gone through. "I tried to set you up with Nino." His tone was dry and beyond done. The boy was so done with life. "And I fixed that by setting him up with my best friend~" "I rejected you for you and got M. Dupain akumatised-" He then shot up, incredulity plastered on his face, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. "Wait a minute. Wa-aaaaait a minute." Marinette gulped under his scrutinising glare. "What was with the whole 'I'm in love with you Chat Noir' thing???" "Let's just say that I come up with the most dumb things on the spot when I think someone's connecting the dots to my secret identity..." "No no no, you are not getting off THAT easily-" "Ehem," The pair paused with their bickering, spotting Tikki who was watching them with an amused smile whilst one of her hands kept the akuma restrained by the antennae. "Maybe get rid of this first before you both get too deep into the flirting?" The little Goddess kept in a shit-eating grin as both teens bursted with red, fumbling to their feet and awkwardly looking at anywhere else but at each other. They couldn't believe they forgot about the akuma entirely! Not wanting to waste anymore time, Marinette transformed into Ladybug, quickly purifying the butterfly and watching it fly away with a soft smile resting on her lips. She wasn't blind to the wonder and astonishment Adrien had on his face, as he took in the entire scene with much pleasure. Ladybug sunk down, picking up the ring that Adrien threw away, rolling the jewel in her palm and then clenching it tight in her fist. She then faced the boy again, the latter looking away as fear still lingered on his body. He bit his lip, peering at her fist below his lashes and rubbing his arm self-consciously. "Adrien?" Ladybug rested her free hand on his, bringing it to her heart, smile never leaving her face. "Will you?" The model's face exploded with red. "H-Huh...?" "Will you be my Chat Noir again? Please?" She spread his hand, stroking the finger that was usually adorned by the powerful mantle. Mimicking his alter-ego's actions, she brought his fingers to her lips, kissing the calloused tips and trailing her soft, kiss-bruised mouth down the palm till it reached the inside of his wrist. She placed an open mouthed kiss, eating up the way he jumped slightly at the sensitivity. "I do! I-I-I mean!" He gulped, embarrassed by his ultra eager response, trying not to jump the girl into another kiss. It's not his fault that this felt like a marriage proposal. "If...if you think it's the right thing...me being Chat..." "You being my Chaton will always be the right thing, Adrien." His Lady smiled so wonderfully, slipping the ring on his finger in a manner that caused his heart to expand and explode on the spot. But then, then, she kissed him again. A saccharine, soft press of lips, the two teens grinning too much for it to be a proper kiss but they didn't care. It felt perfect. It felt amazing. It felt like right. "So is anyone gonna tell me what the fuck just happened???" The heroine and boy parted with a surprise, darting their eyes to the confused dark kwami who darted his head between them both frantically in return. His acidic green eyes then widened and his jaw dropped. "Don't tell me..." "I MISSED THE REVEAL!? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...." . . . ~(x)~ A/N: 6PM me - "Oooo I'm going to make this super angsty and short so that I can do my homework later on!" 10 hours later... 4AM, sleep deprived me - "Hahahah...no UwU" I'm not proofreading till tomorrow. I'm gonna do my homework now. Bye hoes.

[niftyneffy]

Heart AU - Confrontation (Part Three)

(To clarify, this alternate universe belongs to @emositecc These are not my characters, the only thing I have done is the writing. Some of you may have noticed a skip, especially in the song “Change” I didn’t think it’d be necessary writing in seeing how we all know how it goes in the movie. Please enjoy!)

"Just can it, won't ya!"

With her arm coiled into a giant, spring-mounted hand, Spinny cocked her fist and aimed downwards at her target.

Immediately, Steven's face dropped with shock, fearing the worst.

At her wit's end, the erratic gem gripped her eyes shut as frustration rushed through her face, screaming, "You can't just make everything better by singing some... stupid song!"

Launching her fist at him, Steven was sent hurtling down from the captivating night sky and through the crowd of clouds. Like a meteorite, he crashed down onto the surface of the injector's top, with the impact strong enough to damage the mechanical drill and quake the earth below.

Floating downwards and landing on her enlargened fist that had smashed down into the machine, Spinny hopped off her hand and returned it to normal size, landing back down on top of the injector.

Annoyed, infuriated and enraged to see Steven in one piece, projecting his shield inside the crater from the impact, Spinny's crazed eyes locked onto his position.

Despite his resilience, Steven couldn't keep this up. Exhausted, he forced his head up and looked to the demented gem with worriment.

"All that stuff's easy for you to say!" Spinny snarled, her voice coated in annoyance. "When you change, you change for the better. When I change, I change for the worst!" She screamed, madness taking her.

Paying no attention to her surroundings, purely focused on Steven with her pupils forming like daggers, she lunged at him with hate driving her.

Wincing back in horror, clenching his eyes shut, Steven kept his shield raised, bracing himself for the worse. However, that feeling of dread never came.

Out of nowhere, almost as if she was a cannonball being fired, Spinsy launched herself at her sister, sweeping her off her feet and flinging her away from the crater.

Unexpectedly, feeling a sudden force of pain that collided into her in a mere second, Spinny only caught a glimpse of a pink blur that sent her flying back, crashing down on the smooth surface of the injector. Quickly, throwing herself back up with a hop, widening her gaze the moment the world around her stopped spinning, she scowled at the gem who stood before her.

Although she looked regretful to her abrupt action, Spinsy stood tall, protective of her friend. Immediately, the glare that she held towards her sister softened, the determination remaining, but making room for empathy.

Uncontrollably, hate began to build up inside the wayward gem, a raging fire roaring in her stare, clenching her teeth along with her first as they grew to a ridiculous, but threatening size, "And then there's you. I can't describe how much you disgust me..." She breathed with the twitch of an eye, bringing her shoulders up in irritation as the feeling of repulse crawled all over her.

Evident in her haunted eyes, Spinsy winced, looking hurt, not just by the way she was speaking, but how she was acting. It pained her to see her other half in such an erratic state. Despite this, she did her best to piece back her composure, maintaining her breathing as she cautiously took a step forward.

"Always loved, always cherished, always adored," Spinny carried on, still baring her teeth while throwing her head forward in outrage as her tone began to drip with venom and spite.

"Spinny, please! We can fix this. We can still have a future," Spinsy breathed, raising her hand as if she was trying to ease her. "You just need to listen to me and I can tell you how."

Lips curling in disgust, gripping her eyes shut, the crazed gem pulled on her hair in annoyance, forcing her eyes open and shouting, "There's no room for me in your precious future! There's no room for me in any future!"

"That's... that's..." Enthralled in the hands of anxiety, shackled to her fears, Spinny forced her eyelids open and burst into tears, spilling down her face as her lips quivered, "That's why I was left on that rock of a garden for six thousand years, wasn't it?" She sighed with puddled eyes.

"Because I was an emotional wreck?!" She asked, sobbing erratically as she lunged herself forward. "Because I was a pathetic mess?! An unstable freak?! Is that why she never talked to me! Is that why she hated me?! Is that... Is that why you left me as well?" She softly asked with a sniffle, tears streaming down her face.

Despite the condition she was in, Spinsy refused to look away or even move, she placed all of her attention on her sister, tearing up, "Spinny... You- You know that's not true."

"You... You didn't even say goodbye..." She sobbed, her breath quivering as she brought an arm up to her face, wiping away the tears that carried on flooding down her cheeks. "I was your other half... You were all I had... and you... You abandoned me just so you could go with her!"

Sympathy washing over her like an ocean's wave, sharing her other half's emotions, her sorrows, her grieving, Spinsy took another step with watery eyes. Before she could even get a word out, trying to wrap her in the warmth and comfort of her soft voice, Spinny started to frantically laugh.

"You- Do you know what's kind of funny?" She asked, giggling with tears of despair dripping. "The more I try to hate you, the more I just end up hating myself."

Crumpling down onto her knees, dwelling in her red, exhausted and puddled eyes showed only despair as her mind exploded in anguish. Throwing her head into her gloves, sobbing and sniffling, tears racing down her face like a waterfall until puddles formed into the palm of her hands.

"You were everything I wanted to be." She whimpered, breaking down completely, sobbing away. "Entertaining, happy... loved. I just wasn't good for her and now, I'm not good for anyone. Not even myself."

In a matter of seconds, Spinny removed her hands from her face when she felt a sudden force wrap around her shoulders. Much to her surprise, Spinsy knelt beside her sister and clung onto her. She pulled the weeping gem into a hug, softly crying into her shoulder as she began to wrap her in the serenity of her comforting voice.

"Shh..." She cooed through her tears. "It's okay... It's okay."

Sobbing into her shoulder, her weeping softening, Spinny sniffled, "Why didn't she want me? I- I just wanted to be a friend."

"You are... You're my friend," Spinsy comforted. "You always have been and you always will. We can make this right... together. You don't have to be alone anymore. It's gonna be okay... I promise you."

That feeling of hope returned to the troubled gem, reuniting with happiness as it sparked and fought off the depression that crowded her thoughts. No longer hesitant, Spinny wrapped her arms around her sister and returned the embrace. In this moment of empathy, the twins embraced grew tighter, releasing all of their worries, comforting each other.

"I'm sorry." She sobbed into her shoulder, finally being freed from the dread that shackled her. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Spinsy responded. "I should never have left you... But I promise you, I'll always stay by your side... As your friend, as your family... As your sister."

[titansandothersrp]

Memories

(This is a compiled roleplay between my Beast Boy muse and the Raven muse of @azarathian . This is a very old roleplay we wrote under different usernames, but I labeled our writing with our current usernames.)

azarathian (Raven):

All around her was flame and slaughter.

The skies above bled crimson down on the city, roaring with the inferno it bore, all ablaze in suffering and screams. Raven stood amid the carnage, upon the brink of a building she once knew, ingesting the horrors of the world unfolding before her. Along her flesh, lacerations of a burning threat laced her thin arms, the porcelain of her thighs. She grimaced against the heat, but could only endure, unable to move. Unable to look away.

In the distance, a throng of screams pierced her ears. She looked down at the rubble and wreckage to see her four friends, small as ants from her stance on the tower. Above the shrieks, a sudden, foreboding laugh echoed in the walls of her mind, only to swell like a chilling crescendo. Her blood curled in her veins the instant those four bloody eyes emerged in the sky, a sick sort of pleasure deep in their stare.

This was undoubtedly hell on earth. And she’d seen it before. She knew its relentless scald like the back of her hand.

When that sinuous claw plunged from above, she could only scream out, wide-eyed as the figures below were crushed beneath its merciless force.

All at once, her eyes were flung open. She launched upright in her bed, breath heavy and quick as it fled from her lungs into the darkness around her. Her pupils were shrunken in her sockets, hands quivering upon the mattress below her as she felt the bead of sweat trickle down her temple.

A dream. It was a dream. Just a dream.

The Azarathian relayed the fact to herself over and over in her mind, determined to calm her senses and bring herself back to the world of reality. Still, she shook in place, welding her eyes shut before prying them open again to gauge the sight of her room. She was safe. She was at home, in her room, and she was safe. She wasn’t in danger. Her friends were safe. That was all that mattered.

After several minutes of sighing out the trauma, the weight still pressed down on her gut like a boulder. She had to get air. She was practically gasping for it.

Immediately, she threw her duvet from her and rushed for the door, intent on the nearest exit she could reach. The clamour she made on her way out caused some noise, but she didn’t stop to think she might wake someone. She didn’t even know what time it was; she only knew it was dark.

The magus finally reached the tower’s main exit. She leaned against the door frame as the ocean wind hit her like a bullet to her skin. It shook her from her fear. Reminded her that she was awake and alive.

Slowly, Raven ambled down the rocks till she found sanctum upon a flat boulder, overlooking the surprisingly still sea. And finally, looking out to the city she knew was unharmed, she could breathe. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Beast Boy lied in his bed, not yet ready to sleep, only resting. Hands behind his head, he thought of Raven for the umpteenth time that night. She was just so amazing, he thought. It felt like anything he once viewed negatively about her, he could put a positive spin on. She was dark, which made her mysterious and interesting. She kept to herself, which made it all the more enjoyable when she joined him. She rarely smiled, which made each one a victory. Then there were the facts that she’s beautiful, intelligent, caring, and strong. His ears twitched as he heard some movement from Raven’s room. Was she awake? Morphing into a cat, he leaped from his bed and placed his ear to the wall. He could hear heavy breathing. It was just a bad dream, he assumed. Hoping she would fall back asleep and forget about it in the morning, he decided to leave her alone. Though he decided on leaving her alone when she exited her room, assuming she needed the restroom or something, he changed his mind when she didn’t return after a few minutes. Having a feeling where she was, he exited his room, then the Tower, to find her outside. Not wanting to startle her, he gave her a “Hey,” before approaching her and sitting down next to her. “You alright?”

azarathian (Raven): Relax. It wasn’t real. It was all in your head. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you, or your friends. Not any more… Breathe… Despite her rational thought struggling to pull her back to the present, her anguish and fear spoke louder. It had felt so vivid. She could still feel the singe of her fate lining her arms in his fire. The night’s chill was almost lost to the memory of cinders scorching in the air. Her skull pulsed, wavering from the truth and lingering to the past. With tense shoulders, she brought her legs up on the rock, arms leaning upon her thighs and hands limp across her knees. Once again, she tried to breathe in the crisp night-tide wind, eyes cast down solemnly to the waves lapping at the island’s bank.

“Hey.”

With a start, her head rose, but she gave no other movement. She should’ve sensed his presence a mile off, but had been drowned deep in reverie.

“You alright?”

Honestly, in that moment, she couldn’t tell whether the boy’s company was a blessing or a curse. Nonetheless, she lacked the will to reject it, merely sighing out as he took a seat beside her.

“I’m fine,” she lied, almost trying to convince herself of the same thing. She’d managed to regain that recognisable tone, level and composed, though her eyes held another story. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Raven… You don’t have to lie to me.” He knew for a fact that she was lying. Her posture, her eyes, the fact she was even out here… He knew something was wrong. “If you just need some fresh air and quiet to feel better, tell me. But don’t lie and say you’re fine when you’re not.” He hoped she wouldn’t tell him to go away, but he would understand if she did. He gave her the opportunity for some company and that’s all he could really do. “I just want to help. But, if you want, I’ll leave.” azarathian (Raven): In a way, she was grateful for his prying. Now she’d learnt to read his actions in a different light, she could appreciate that he was trying his best to make her feel cared for. Even the fact he said he’d leave if she wished hadn’t gone unnoticed; they really were growing to understand and respect each other better…

“It’s nothing,” she breathed, eyes still clung to the ripples of the sea beneath her feet.

“I just had a bad dream. I needed some air, that’s all.” She hoped the confession didn’t sound too pathetic, nor divulge the essence of fear she’d experience mere minutes before. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Just as he suspected. He appreciated that she told him the truth. “Well, at least it was just a dream, so you shouldn’t have to worry about it. I’ve had to do that too sometimes; get out of bed to clear my head. Especially with those nightmares where you keep waking up, only to realize you’re still in the nightmare.” He didn’t think any less of her for needing to calm down from a nightmare. It meant she had emotions just like everyone else.“You want to talk or anything? It might work as a distraction.” azarathian (Raven):

She knew he was right. She didn’t have to worry about Trigon any longer. Not in the real world, at least. Still, she felt him inside her like he’d never left. A feeling she’d grown used to her whole life, and probably something she would never fully be able to relinquish.

And in honesty, she wasn’t sure how much good talking would do, as the sibyl had never allowed herself to just sit beside another and share her feelings on such a matter. It was too personal. Too deep-rooted. And yet, his inviting words played on her thoughts as they sat below the canopy of cloud. It felt as though they were the only two in the world; as though they could scream if they wished, and no one would ever hear…

Raven bit at her bottom lip in contemplation.

“… Yeah. I think I do,” came her soft and tentative voice, though she truly hadn’t a clue where to begin. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He was a bit surprised that she agreed. Though they had been getting along, she had always been the listener. Maybe now he could be the one to listen to her and learn more about her. “So, what happened?” azarathian (Raven): She pressed her lips together, lost for where to begin. Her brows creased a touch as she envisioned the dream again in her head; a sight she didn’t really wish to dwell on, but still helplessly felt the need to share with the other. “It was about Trigon.” She managed to force out the sentence, and that was all she needed to spur her on with what followed. “He was back on earth. Everything was destroyed, and…” Her voice trembled a little in the back of her throat as the images played before her, almost tangible. “It felt so real. Like he was really here again.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): His eyes widened a bit at the mention of Trigon. He could see why she would be frightened by that. Seeing the planet you and all those you care about destroyed must really take a toll on the mind. He needed to make sure she felt safe. He could only do so much, but he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But it wasn’t real. You already lived through your worst nightmare. And you won. You defeated him and he’ll never come back. And even if he did, you’d just defeat him again.”

“It’s okay to be scared, but you don’t need to be. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ll always win in the end.” azarathian (Raven): She accepted the reassuring touch to her shoulder, and her eyes flitted to his direction without actually rising to meet his own. “It’s just… hard. His presence has followed me since I was born. Sometimes… it’s hard to believe it’s over. That he’s really gone.” Despite her fears, she knew her words to be true; for it was over. He was gone. But even having defeated the merciless demon she called her father, he still managed to plague her in her thoughts. In her sleep. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “I guess it would be hard to let go of something that’s affected you your whole life… You were told your whole life you couldn’t defeat him, weren’t you? You were discouraged all that time. And you still did it. Imagine what you could do when encouraged!”

“You can do it, Raven! I believe in you! Beat up those doubts!” azarathian (Raven): Optimistic as ever. If anything, the lively lilt to his words served to tug her all the more back to reality and away from her nightmares. And for that, she was grateful. The events of her fate had happened over a year ago now, yet she imagined it would take a much longer time before she could find true peace with the fact it was over. As he questioned her, she nodded lightly. But when his little peppy cheer followed, she couldn’t help the giggle it drew from her once frowning lips. Finally, she looked to him. “Easier said than done, but I’ll try.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Yes! He got a smile and a giggle out of her! “I’ll be here to cheer you on. I’ll even get pom-poms, if you want!” He chuckled.

“By the way… if you wouldn’t mind… I was wondering… What was your life like before the Titans? We’ve known each other for years and we’ve been talking more recently, but I feel like I don’t know much about you. I want to know you better… If that’s okay.” azarathian (Raven): The smile faded from her face, a look of hesitance taking its place. As a breeze passed between the two, she let a pause linger before speaking up. “What do you want to know?” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

He noticed her smile fade. Was he pushing it? “Well, things like where you’re from, what your childhood was like, who raised you, how you learned to control your powers. If you’re not comfortable with that, you don’t have to tell me.” azarathian (Raven): She shook her head, assuring him she didn’t mind him asking. She just wasn’t quite sure how to answer; her past wasn’t something she could exactly sum up in a sentence or two. “Well…” She swallowed, hands moving from her lap to press down on either side of her against the rock she sat on. Leaning back slightly, the wind caught the tresses of her hair as she breathed out, searching for where to begin. “I’m from a dimension called Azarath… It’s where I grew up, until I came to Earth.” The latter three questions he’d asked honestly all tied in together. “I was raised in a temple there, by Azarathian monks… they’re the ones who also trained me to control my powers.” So far it sounded like a somewhat decent childhood. Raven didn’t know quite how to explain the intricacies that proved it was anything but. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He nodded slightly as he listened. He could relate to being raised by those other than his birth parents and being trained to better utilize his powers, but he suspected that their experiences were quite different. “Was it nice in Azarath? Was it anything like Earth? You didn’t seem to have much trouble adapting to our culture, like Starfire did. Or did you research it ahead of time? Given your smarts, I wouldn’t doubt it.” He kept his eyes on her, hooked on every word she said. He wanted to know all he could about her.

azarathian (Raven): Truth be told, Azarath had been a place of beauty before the destruction of Trigon. Raven could see the labyrinth of buildings, the glassy spires towering tall in her mind’s eye. But though it was beautiful, that didn’t mean it was nice. For the magus, at least, her home divulged memories of isolation, rejection, and suffering from both her people and her mentors. She was the devil’s child, after all. Her home was the husk of a young girl’s lost hope. It was only upon coming to Earth did she learn what true happiness felt like.

“It was… similar, in a lot of ways,” she began. “My people are pacifists. Their culture has its differences, but it was easy to adapt here. I can’t say I had the same childhood as any other on Azarath, though. I think that makes my perspective distorted from the rest.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He found it strange that he could relate yet again. Even before he got his powers, he most certainly didn’t have an average childhood. “Pacifists, huh? Does that mean they were gentle with raising you?” He thought for a moment. “Or were they strict like some of the religious people here?” He hoped they were kind, but he knew in his gut that they weren’t. If they were kind and loving, why would she have been so cold when arriving to Earth? He frowned deeply at the thought of Raven being mistreated.

azarathian (Raven): She released a long, deep sigh to the wind. She should’ve guessed this question was coming, and yet it still stunted her to think back on her time under the monks’ meticulous hold. “Strict,” she confirmed, a waver in her tone. No point in sugar-coating the experience, she thought. “They trained me every day, from the break of dawn to sunset. They had to. I wasn’t allowed to feel, or I’d be scolded… It was only when I was around six years old that I began to understand why.”

A silence hung between them for a moment.

“They had their reasons. They all knew who I was – what I was. I had to be under control at all times, or else who knows what would happen. So I was kept in the temple where I grew up. I couldn’t leave or see anyone from the outside. It was… not your average childhood. Even by Azarath’s standards.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “And I thought Mento was strict…” He mused aloud. “Not being allowed to feel… That must have been harsh. I can’t imagine living like that… I’m sorry you didn’t get to have a real childhood… But… I suppose the past is in the past. You have your whole life ahead of you now. With us. You can feel all you want with us.” He offered a small smile. “Feel what you want, talk to who you want, do what you want… You have a new life now. Live it as you see fit.” azarathian (Raven): In reality she knew that he had no idea. The experience of her youth was not something that could be fully understood by merely reciting it; in fact, doing so was simply scratching the surface. Still, he meant well. He just wanted to know more about her, and in many ways, she wanted to tell him more about her. “Yeah.” Her heavy tone seemed to settle a touch as the prospect of the future dawned upon her. Her past was just that, after all. Past. Not present, nor future, and for now she could live her life as she wished. No longer burdened by her destiny or her father. Reflecting on this, the weight in her chest lifted and she returned Beast Boy’s smile with her own. “You’re right. And I’m thankful for it.” The girl clung her eyes to his. “What about you?” she asked. “Where were you raised?” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): She wanted to know about him? That was a good sign, right?

“Me? Well, believe it or not, I wasn’t raised in America. Not at first, anyway. My parents, my real parents, were biologists. We traveled the jungles of the world for their research. My childhood was spent in Africa, Brazil, India… lots of places, really. Since we traveled so much, I didn’t go to school. My parents taught me instead. They were hoping I’d grow up to be brilliant, like them. So much for that, huh?” He gave a slight chuckle. “That’s why my real name is what it is. They told me I was named after a famous doctor, not the comic strip cat.” azarathian (Raven):

“Really?”

She knew bits and pieces about Beast Boy’s past, but had always assumed he’d grown up in America. California was where he was when she’d met him; she thought at most he’d have lived somewhere outside the city, but not outside the country.

“Too bad you act more like the cat than the doctor, though,” she smirked at him, watching his reaction before she decided to ask more questions.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Yes, really.” Deciding to have a little fun at his own expense, he pouted.

“I hate Mondays!” He gave her a playful smirk. azarathian (Raven): “The resemblance is uncanny,” she drawled. “So, what was it like travelling ‘round so much? Did you like it?” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “I liked it. It was all I knew, at that point. I got to meet lots of people, see lots of animals, try different kinds of food… It sucked when I met someone cool and had to leave though.” azarathian (Raven): “Yeah, I can imagine.” It was actually proving very interesting to hear about Beast Boy’s past; she found it hard to imagine him as a child. To imagine him without his powers and living his life before the titans, or even the Doom Patrol. Suddenly all kinds of questions formed in her head, and she was eager to have them answered, if not for anything else then to serve as a good distraction from her own past memories. “And your parents? What were they like?” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“They were great, smart, adventurous, loving… all around great people, really. From what I remember, everyone seemed to like them. They knew a lot of smart and interesting people. They used to show me off.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t very bright, but they had me recite animal facts I knew. I’d always loved animals, even before I got my powers.” azarathian (Raven): His reflective smile mirrored on her face as she watched him and listened. There must’ve been something very bittersweet about discussing his childhood, she assumed. It sounded like he had quite a nice one while his parents were still living. She gave a light chuckle. “Did they show off your ears too?” she teased. But as soon as the words left her, she instantly shunned them, for she realised a second too late that, of course, he wouldn’t have had his pointy ears at that time. Nor his green complexion, nor fangs, nor powers. It had been a stupid mistake, but she feared now she had stirred some of the not-so-happy memories. This unease made itself known in her frown and creased forehead.

“Oh, I mean-” she scoured for a save, but couldn’t find one. “… Sorry.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He gave a weak smile. “Heh. It’s fine. But, no, they didn’t. I only had my powers for a very short time before they… y’know…”

“They gave me my powers, you know. Back when I was around seven years old, my parents were searching for a rare green monkey. They found it… or rather… I found it. I thought it was pretty. It was little and fluffy and green, my favorite color.”

“Being a dumb little kid, I tried to pet it. But, when I got close, it bit me. Then I got sick. Really sick. The bite gave me the Sakutia virus. In order to save me, my parents made a mix of animal… antigens, I think it was? It cured me, but also gave me my green appearance and ability to transform.” azarathian (Raven): “– before they… y’know…” She felt a lump form in her throat, a pressure grow in her chest. But her eyes stayed on him. “Mm,” she nodded in understanding. “It must’ve been a big scare for you all. It’s a good thing your parents were such brilliant people, and could save you. You must be proud to be their son…” Hesitantly, her smile attempted to return, though this time around there was a certain sympathy weaved within it. A brief pause deterred her speech. “And there’s no doubt they’d be proud to be your parents.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “I am proud to be their son, but, do you really think they’d be proud of me? They were geniuses and I’m… not. And they were able to save me, but I couldn’t save them.” He looked a way, being overcome with a feeling of guilt. “There was a flood… about a month after I got my powers. I tried to save them, but I couldn’t turn into any animal that was strong enough. I kept trying and trying, but I couldn’t get them to safety. I watched them drown… before I flew away.”

azarathian (Raven): As she absorbed the story, a frown formed. It was a horrible thing to hear, and she could only imagine what the reality of living it had felt like, and to a child no less. Raven had always known that her teammate’s parents were no longer alive, that they’d passed when he was very young. But until now she had been unaware of the intricacies their tragedy held; that Beast Boy had been present to witness his parents’ death, that his life was almost taken along with theirs in the chaos. The guilt he harboured was evident in his pained expression, and caused Raven’s stomach to churn with empathy for the boy. “Beast Boy,” she said, a hand instantly planted to his shoulder to better keep him grounded. One of them had to be strong here, and though the changeling was incredibly strong in his own right, she undoubtedly had far more practise with controlling her emotions.

“You and I both know that their death wasn’t your fault. Don’t think it for a second.” Her tone was stern and level. It had to be, for his sake, though she could have easily succumbed to the same temptation to release tears. It was against her nature to do so, by now.

“We can’t change what happened. But know that they would be proud of you. Despite all that’s happened, look at where you are now. You should be proud of yourself, too.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He was trying his best to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He brought his hand to the empath’s on his shoulder. Grabbing it tightly, perhaps too tightly, he tried to find the strength not to break down completely. He took sharp breaths as he choked back sobs, unsure of why he was fighting it in the first place. Raven told him it was okay to cry, but he’d spent so long trying to pretend he was happy all the time. His breathing began to calm and he loosened his grip on her hand, but still held it for support. “I guess I was responsible for taking down the Brotherhood of Evil.” He said trying to stay positive. “I never thought I’d be able to lead like that.” He offered a strained smile. azarathian (Raven): The hand upon her own didn’t go unnoticed, and though her eyes flitted to the sight for a moment, there was a more pressing matter before her. In the space of a mere few weeks, she’d never seen the teen so vulnerable and willing to open up before. And she could now say that this wasn’t the first time her friend looked upon her with teary eyes. His unfaltering facade of constant merriment and revelry was once again peeling back to expose the troubled and tortured boy beneath. She let him breathe, though his breaths came in sobs. It didn’t matter. He needed a moment to calm himself, and she knew this. Sure enough, before long, he seemed to regain himself as best he could for the moment, and it was then that Raven looked on at him with complete patience and consideration. “But you did,” she said. “And you’ve done much more.” Her hand fell from his shoulder as she leaned back and looked out to the sea. “You’re a hero, Beast Boy. I think because we do this sort of thing every day, it’s easy to forget that…” Her eyes found his again. “I’m sorry you couldn’t save them… But you’ve saved so many others since, and for that you should be proud.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He brought his hands to rest at his sides on the rocky shore. Taking a deep breath of the night air, he exhaled, calming down a bit further. He looked to her with a smile. “I may have not been able to save my blood relatives, but I have saved my family more than once; the Doom Patrol, you guys…” He looked to the sea and sighed.

“But that wasn’t always appreciated. Did I ever tell you how I first turned into a large animal?” That was a rhetorical question. He knew he hadn’t. “We were fighting the Brotherhood of Evil; me and the rest of the Doom Patrol. They had a black hole generator. They got caught in some sort of trap of energy that was hurting them and they couldn’t escape from. Mento told me I needed to destroy the generator. It was too big for me though. But, when I saw my team, my family, in danger like that, I was finally able to transform into something big; a T-rex!” He smiled excitedly. “I finally turned into something big! And my first priority was to set them free. I destroyed the trap with my giant tail and freed them! Negative Man took out the generator after that. I was so happy! After years of trying to transform into something big, I did it! I transformed and saved my family! I was so excited when I told Mento I finally did it, but…” He frowned as he remembered what happened next. “He just yelled at me. He yelled at me because I saved their lives instead of destroying the generator, which got destroyed anyway. He told me I would never be a part of the team if I couldn’t follow orders.” azarathian (Raven): “Did I ever tell you how I first turned into a large animal?” Though he wasn’t looking at her, she gave a small shake of her head, listening intently and absorbing the mingle of emotions in his face as he relayed the memory. “He’s a harsh leader,” she stated with assurance. She knew this already from having observed the way he treated his own team during their fight with the Brotherhood. “You have to see things through his eyes. He looks at the bigger picture, beyond his team. To him, they’re second priority to defeating the villain. That’s the most important thing. But we don’t do things his way. We look out for each other, and when that happened for you - when you transformed - that’s what you were doing. Looking out for your team. Your family. … Just because he does things differently doesn’t mean it’s right. You did the right thing, in the end.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Tell me about it. I lived with him for years. I know what he’s like. He sees the bigger picture… unless you achieve the bigger picture without following his orders.”

He scowled, showing his anger at his former leader. He’d never have talked like this while he was back with the Doom Patrol. Mento would never allow it. “He only cares if you obey his orders, thinking he always knows what’s best in every situation. He acts like you can’t see the bigger picture and care about the smaller one at the same time. I know what I did was the right thing, but it burns me up to think of how he’s supposed to be a leader, but he can’t lead us to do the right thing.” He was on a rant now, one that had been building up for years. “And he cares more about being the Doom Patrol than anything else. We’re supposed to be a family too. Him and Rita? They’re my adoptive parents. Legally, I’m their son. But, did he care? No. Whenever Rita showed me too much affection, Mento would argue with her, telling her I needed more discipline. He’d even get mad when I called Rita Mom. She’s my mother now, but I can’t even call her that in front of him. Is it really that much to ask to be a team and a family?“ azarathian (Raven): Only remnants of how Beast Boy felt towards his adoptive father had shown through in the discord of their battle with the Brotherhood, but even then it had been apparent to any observant eye that he held within him certain dregs of resentment from how the man had treated him in his youth. Clearly Mento wasn’t the ideal father figure; it was somewhat a surprise Beast Boy turned out the way he did considering the strict and steely nature he’d been raised on. In her mind she credited him for not having picked up on the man’s traits, and felt almost grateful for the fact. It just didn’t suit the boy to be cold and sharp. He could’ve grown into someone she wouldn’t recognise as her teammate at all, but thank Azar, he seemed to maintain his true parents’ innate kindness and zeal. “It’s not. And that’s why you’re with us now. We are your team and family. And you don’t do things his way anymore. We have our own way, and that’s all you need to focus on now. Let him lead his team how he sees fit – you’re no longer a part of it.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He sighed. “You’re right. The Doom Patrol are adults. They can speak out or leave the team, if they want to. I didn’t really have that choice… I mean, I guess I did. I did leave eventually. I just didn’t leave sooner because I didn’t want to be a wandering, homeless orphan. It’s not like I would have been adopted again. Who would want a kid who’s green?” He paused. “But, that’s the past, like you said. I have a home now, with the Titans. And I can visit the Doom Patrol whenever I want. I have two homes. That’s more than most people have.” His usual grin returned. “I guess I do have it pretty sweet right now.”

azarathian (Raven): “Exactly,” she smiled, relieved to see that cheerful air return to him. “And if you find yourself hung up on the past again, just try to remember that. Things are different now, for all of us. It’s all worked out in the end. That’s what matters. ”In a strange way, she was grateful he’d shared these concerns with her not only because it disclosed his trust in her, but also because it served as a good distraction from her own burdens that had led her to reflect outside the tower in the first place. She might not have two homes like the boy beside her, but she had her friends, her home, her whole future - all things she had been completely convinced were intangible things. “I guess we all have it pretty sweet right now,” she echoed, quite unlike herself, but in the moment she didn’t care. It was true, after all. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He chuckled, not used to Raven using the term “sweet” in such a manner. Smiling to himself, he watched the sea with a content sigh. He was in a good mood now and she seemed to be too. Maybe now would be a good time to ask something he’d been planning to… “So…” He drummed his fingers against the rocky shore. “Do you wanna hang out tomorrow? I was thinking we could visit that one cafe and you could recommend a tea you think is good. I never really drink the stuff, but you make it look like it’s delicious.” Honestly, he wasn’t interested in tea. He just wanted to go somewhere with her he knew she would like. azarathian (Raven): The little laugh merely deepened the warmth in her smile, eyes soft as they looked to him. She hadn’t understood just how important his happiness was to her. There was something extremely wrong about seeing Beast Boy upset and distressed, and she honestly felt a certain need to amend the troubles in his mind. At his offer, she blinked a touch, a blend of surprise and an unexpected flurry of something else. Something unfamiliar… … Eagerness? For some reason, the first answer that formed in her mind was ‘Yes.’ Nothing more, nothing less. And the realisation of this instinctively shocked the girl, for such a proposal would’ve always led to a solid, sturdy ‘no’. When had that changed?… “That… sounds nice,” she admitted, tactfully revealing but a tinge of the emotional flood stirring within her chest. Behind her ribs, a faint flutter dwelled, though she ignored the sensation as best she could. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Yes! He was celebrating internally, trying to keep the excitement from showing. He didn’t want to put her off with his eagerness. “Alright, tea for two tomorrow it is then~” He stretched with a yawn. He hadn’t slept that night yet and he was starting to feel the effects. “Hopefully, it’s the kind that wakes you up.” He chuckled. azarathian (Raven): If she were to dwell on it, Raven would come to conclude that the arrangement seemed, in short, entirely extraordinary for the two. True, over the past month they’d spent a handful of times together without the presence of their fellow companions, and yet no such thing had ever taken place outside the tower before. Of course, this discluded matters regarding their profession; patrols and the like weren’t exactly considered leisurely. Who knew? Perhaps having grown closer to one another, spending some time just for the sake of it could be nice, after all. Ultimately, there was only one way to find out, and against her reputation, some unknown force was undoubtedly urging her to take the chance. His yawn brought her to her senses, acknowledging how late it had become during their talk. Time was something completely unknown to her in that instant; they could’ve been sat out on the harbour for a mere ten minutes or an hour. Either way, she wouldn’t know.

“Yeah,” Raven returned wearily. “Maybe we should… go back inside. It’s late.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He pulled his sleeve up to check his watch. “You’re right. Jeez. I didn’t realize how late it was.” He stood up and stretched. “Gotta get to bed.” He turned and headed towards the tower. azarathian (Raven): As he rose to his feet, she granted herself one last glimpse of the ebony ocean waves and city lights before following his lead and heaving herself from the rock she’d been sat upon. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, cloak catching in the breeze as she followed his path and quickly caught up to his pace.  Hopefully this time she would be able to get back to sleep with ease. Her mind certainly felt more settled and calm than it had been before the other joined her.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Once inside, Beast Boy gave a “Goodnight.” and headed for his room. Rather than going straight to bed, however, he decided to look for something first. Finding the item, he tucked it away and headed back to Raven’s room, lightly knocking on her door. “It’s me. Mind if I show you something real quick?” azarathian (Raven): “Night,” she echoed quietly, careful not to wake any of the others now they were back in the tower’s corridor. She entered her room and let the door slide shut behind her, but as soon as she took her first few steps she was halted as she heard a light tapping again at her door.  She turned and paced back to the sound, to be met with the same face she’d talked to through the night. “What is it?” she asked, curious. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He smiled. “Something I’ve never showed any other Titan. After the talk we just had, I think you should see it.” He pulled out a photo and handed it to her. The picture showed a man, woman, and young boy. The three were posing in front of a lion enclosure at an animal sanctuary. The boy was pretending to have claws and snarling at the camera while the other two made similar faces. azarathian (Raven): When he took out the photograph, her eyes fell instantly to it, taking in the image it displayed.  The two adults looked like no one she’d seen before, but the child… He looked awfully familiar, in a vague and strange way. The boy adorned messy blonde hair, a fair complexion and bright, baby-blue irises that seemed to light up his entire face.  She surveyed the picture, a twist of confusion burnished in her wandering stare. And then, like a bolt, it hit her. Her lips drew apart and brows rose in succession.

“Is that you?”

Bewildered, the question left her with a heavy resonance that almost filled the hallway.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. Not Beast Boy, but Garfield.”

“Hard to believe it’s me, huh? And those are my parents, if you couldn’t tell. It was a long time ago, but, if I remember right, we were at an animal sanctuary in Africa. We visited a lot of those when I was a kid. Most people can’t just visit a sanctuary, so I was lucky to get to see all those animals like that.”  azarathian (Raven): Raven’s fingers found one of the photograph’s edges, tracing over the border before gently taking hold of it to get a better look. When Beast Boy released his own grip on the photo she took it as a sign of permission to do so, so she brought it closer to her line of sight, absorbing every aspect of the three figures within. Her face was wistful, and her eyes once again examined the boy in the photo, only to look up and compare to the teen she saw in front of her and had come to know. “Lucky you,” she smirked, resisting the urge to tease. It was just such a rare thing to see him like this; it was almost as if she was looking at a different person, and yet certain features made it clear that they were, in fact, one in the same. She noted the playful way his parents mimicked the lion claws and snarl. “They look like they were really great people…” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “They were. Even though they were busy people, they always made time for me. They took time from their work to have fun.” He looked at the picture in Raven’s hands with a smile. “I think that’s part of why I am the way I am. They taught me you can work and play. They also knew how to make me smile. It’s funny. Even though she was my mom, she would always tell dad jokes to cheer me up. Dad usually just made faces. They made it difficult for me to ever be mad at them. They always wound up making me laugh.” azarathian (Raven): Somehow it was all seeming to fall into place; why Beast Boy so stubbornly remained the jokester that he was. His parents clearly influenced his personality far more than the trauma he’d lived through had. Far more than Mento’s constant berating. No - the changeling stayed determined even after all these years to preserve the positivity his parents left with him. And Raven was only realising this now… It all made sense. And, honestly, she admired him greatly for it. “Safe to say you’ve inherited that side of them,” the empath smiled. “They’d be happy you have, too. Even if it tends to grate on the rest of us.” It was merely another tease, and she knew he’d recognise it as such by now. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He chuckled.

“I try~ I try~” He smiled. “Thanks, Raven. It means a lot. I used to worry I was just a goof, but talking about it made me realize I’m more like my parents than I thought. And since they were great, I guess that makes me great too. And hey, some people like the comic relief guy!” azarathian (Raven): “And when you find those people, I’m sure you’ll feel very fulfilled,” she smirked, handing the photo back to him with a light touch so as not to crinkle the corner. “Thanks for showing me. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.” titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He smirked right back. “It’s a shame there aren’t any people like that staying in the room next to mine.” He chuckled, taking the picture back. “You’re welcome. Thanks for listening. I don’t get to talk about my parents much. It felt nice. Well, I’ll see ya.” azarathian (Raven): “Tragedy,” she returned with a slight glint in her eye, willingly playing along. “It’s fine. Sleep well, see you tomorrow.” With that, she turned back to her room and once more the door slid shut behind her. As she wandered over to her bed, she noticed the clock on her bedside table read 3:40am. The moment the hour dawned on her, her eyes felt suddenly very heavy. Sleep was calling for her, and this time she had faith that her return to slumber would be a more pleasant one. She hoped, at least. As the heroine slunk beneath her quilt, she allowed her thoughts to dissipate into the air. She no longer had the energy to mull over nightmares of the past; though, if Raven had possessed any energy at all, she would’ve probably found herself contemplating a different matter entirely. No longer would Trigon occupy her thoughts, but the acknowledgement that she had, in fact, agreed to an outing with her green teammate for the following day. Willingly agreed. Because she wanted to. Indeed, had she possessed the energy, this realisation would’ve almost certainly plagued her mind well into the dawn. However, as it happened, the poor sorceress was entirely drained as her cheek nuzzled into the pillow beneath her. Slender fingers curled around the bridge of her duvet, pulling it close to her chin as she lay snug in her bed, slave to the deep sleep overcoming her. [ FIN ]

[lord-explosion-baku]

Dark Elf!Aizawa x f!reader

Warnings: slight suggestive content, angst, dark (???) themes (at least, part 2 gonna be dark or whatever👀)

A/N: HELLO! This was requested by @kattariapenn , my lovely and divine numero uno!! I’m not posting the full ask on here because it contains spoilers of what’s to come (because this is just a part 1. AUs always have me writing... so much. I really thought I could whip it out as a oneshot but I didn’t and I’m sleepy and so 👋🏻 ) but basically the request is for a heartbroken reader stumbling upon Dark Elf!Aizawa in disguise as a hermit in the woods who “suggests” the reader marries him. It’s all fun and nice until it’s not🙃 HIZZAHT.

Betrayal… anguish… heartbreak… the raging emotions pumping through your veins while your mudied feet skip through the boundless forest on the outskirts of town constricted your windpipes and made your already labored breath all the more difficult to catch. Your heartbeat matches the rhythm from the marching drums that sorrowfully call for you from your would-be wedding scene. Would-be, if you hadn’t caught the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with exchanging gentle and intimate caresses with your maid of honor. But you couldn’t think of that. No, you couldn’t think of the way your lover grinned while another woman’s treacherous hands snaked and prodded through his trousers. . . or hell, maybe that the only thing you could think of! It hadn’t mattered. Nothing mattered besides you moving quickly and as far away from your shame and mental turmoil as possible.

Tears burn your eyes and blur your vision as you leap over yet another moss covered log. The deeper you got through the forest, the heavier the fauna became, shadowing your path and igniting your fleeing instincts when twisted branches seem to reach out towards you from every direction. If you had been in a better mindset, you would've stopped to take a breath, reevaluate what you were doing and where you were going. However, the more you ran, the more it seems like you actually could escape the tumultuous roar that clanks so unforgivingly around in your mind.

Blinded, moreso by your hysteria than your surroundings, your bare foot catches on some heavy vines and after hearing a pop!, you fall. You’re barely able to let out a small shriek before you’re tumbling down a hill, collecting dried leaves in your hair and inheriting several crimson cuts along your arms and legs. Your ivory dress snags on a protruding branch and you hear a tear before your head hits the ground. A high ringing in your ears drowns the scattering of the forests’ creatures and you’re left, torn and alone on the dirt floor.

You lay there for a moment before deciding to move. Wondering what on earth you could have done to deserve such a shattering feeling. Who did you hurt? Which god did you curse? You swallow a sob and it’s laughable; you don’t even want the residents of the forest hearing you cry. Maybe bottling your emotions was the sin that earned you this dismal day. If your fiance had known what you found out about him and if he had confronted you, could you have acted? Could you have screamed and cried like you refused to do even on your own? In front of him? In front of your family? You’ve always thought that letting your temperament become you would burden those you cherished. Perhaps your emotional dishonesty was the reason for your partner’s infidelity…

“No,” you think out loud. “A swine becomes a swine when he stops being a piglet.”

A breathlike breeze flows through the forest break and while the trees rustle with the wind, it seems as though they’re laughing with you. It’s eerie— you feel as though you’re being leered at from the shrouded depths of the forest. You don’t know if the presence, imaginative or not, is discomforting. Still, you shouldn’t spend the rest of your day dirtying the remains of your wedding gown.

Your toes twitch and a sharp pain shoots up your leg from your ankle. You groan. You must’ve sprained your ankle when you got caught in the vines. You wonder how long you’ll have to walk with a terrible limp until you get back to the edge of the forest… how long would it even take you to figure out where exactly where you were?

“How could I be so,” you clench your fists, “reckless?”

The wind blows and makes a sort of cooing noise that nearly eases your temperament. You lay your head back and sink into the ground which begins to feel more and more comfortable the longer you stare up at the the leaves blanketing the forest. It’s still light out but the branching is thick enough to veil the sky, only letting the sun to shine through tiny cracks so it resembles the night sky… it’s nice, this sky.

A calming sensation overwhelms you and you find your eyes growing heavy as the makeshift stars seem to start swirling around you. You want to fear for yourself, falling asleep while injured in the woods like that, but as a esoteric black figure ghosts past you, you find your body relaxing and your dreamstate taking over.

~

When you wake, the smell of smoke and the crackling of a fire compels you to lift your head and rise to see that you’ve moved from where you had fallen. You stretch your legs out and feel that there’s no longer any pain and that your ankle, now only a tad bit sore, had been wrapped in what you can recognize as yarrow, chamomile, and some other kind of herb, held in place by a bit of your wedding dress that had torn off.

Your head shoots towards the campfire when the sound of spinning metal alarms you that you’re not alone. A man, bundled up in dark cloth with half his face covered in a silver scarf sits at the fire while spinning a metal pot over it. He leers at you through heavy black bangs and it feels like the air you breathe in drops about ten degrees cooler. He could be very dangerous.

“You’re awake,” he says. You’re surprised but not ungrateful that he’s the first to speak. Only the gods know how long you’d be able to sit there before sprinting off in another direction without saying a word.

“I am… did I spend the night here?”

“You did. Don’t you know that it’s foolish to go running into the wood on your own?”

You stand. It was very foolish of you to run off like you did and to the woods where you very well could’ve gotten yourself lost, however it’s even more foolish to be speaking with someone, homeless no less, that you knew nothing about.

“How far is the edge of the forest?”

“I was just about to have some tea… Would you care to join me?”

You freeze. You’ve been taught to be kind to the underprivileged, but you also know not to trust strange men, and he blatantly ignored your question. Tears well up in your ducts and you let out a shaky breath before saying, “please, sir.”

The man’s dark eyes soften at the sight of your tears. You hate anyone seeing you cry but if it helps you in this sort of situation, then maybe it’s better to show them.

He points behind you and you’re dumbstricken to see the clearing not fifteen meters out.. You hadn’t been in any danger. You turn to thank the strange man but he had vanished; the fire still alive, boiling the water in his tea kettle.

Back at home you deal with your mother fussing over you, your cut up body, and of course the destroyed wedding gown. Your sisters cry for you and your father absolutely refused to look at you. You’d explained to them what had happened, swallowing your shame and admitting that you had seen your fiancé with your best friend and that you had run away and got lost. Your sisters had sympathized with you, while your mother insisted you should’ve at least confronted him, maybe tried to work things out so the two of you could go through with the expensive wedding. But you wouldn’t ever want to do that. As far as you know and wish, you are far from done with that miserable man. If you aren’t good enough for him then he isn’t good enough for you. You never want to see him again.

You mother is wrong to say that you should’ve stayed with your ex-fiancé but still, for her trouble, you help her bake. Cinnamon apple streusel muffins are her specialty and they always tasted best on sad days like these. The entire time you mix the batter, you can’t stop thinking about the homeless man in the woods. You had been so ungrateful! Obviously he had been the one to find you and wrap your ankle in those herbs and he had even brought you to the edge of the forest and started a fire to keep you warm! He was a sweet man and you didn’t thank him at all.

When the muffins finally came out of the oven, you bundle them up in a basket and excuse yourself for the rest of the day. It’s nearly dusk and the sun should be setting soon but if you can’t find the man immediately you’d just have to leave the basket by his fire pit, maybe he’d know that they were from you and understand that was your way of repaying him.

And so, that’s what you do but you feel childish about it, leaving a basket with no note and all. Zero confrontation, just how you like it, still you feel like it’s not enough. So you wait a bit by the pit that has no fire but the coals still give off some warmth from the morning.

It’s getting dark and you can feel the eyes of the creatures in the forest on you. You sigh when your body begins to shiver.

“Well, mystery man, I hope you like cinnamon.” You turn towards the exit and are immediately stopped by a hooded figure obstructing your path.

“I’m not a huge fan of baked goods-“ the man pulls down his scarf to reveal a strong scruffy looking chin and a pretty curved mouth- “but I do appreciate the gesture.”

In your surprise, you take a step back and almost step into the hot coals when the man snakes his hands around your body and pulls you around and away from his pit. He holds you closer to him for a second longer than he needs to before he finally lets you go and you can’t help but think that this strange homeless man looks sorta handsome in a scruffy and unkempt way. He looks a lot younger than you had assumed him to be when you saw him in the morning and his long black hair looked less raggedy and more wild while his eyes seemed less tired and more… dangerous… and not the sort of danger you felt like you needed to guard yourself from. There was something alluring about them…

“You really need to learn to be more careful.” He kicks some dirt over the cooling coals and eyes you from the side.

“Right… I’m sorry… for being careless and for barging in on your camp again.”

“I’ve not rescinded my invitation on you yet. And besides-“ he picks your basket off the ground- “you've brought gifts.”

You watch him intently unfold the napkin over the basket. Long fingers shift over the pastries before he punches the edge of a muffins and you eagerly watch him sample it, suddenly needing his approval. Your heart falls when he wraps your gift back up and places it by the firepit.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t even think that you wouldn’t like anything baked. I just wanted to thank you for… for…”

The strange man quirks a brow. “For?” Oh, he really is handsome… but you shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts after you had just ended a relationship so abruptly!

“For saving me, I think.” You shy away from his gaze. You feel like if you stare any longer at the rugged stranger, you might say or do something embarrassing. “That was you, right? You found me and brought me to the fire? And helped me with my ankle.”

“I did.”

“Then… I owe you!”

“Owe?”

“Like a favor. I need to repay you in some way.”

“Hmm.” He grins then, revealing abnormally long canine teeth. “I forget that you people tend to think capitally. I see. So you’ll be uncomfortable or guilty if you do not pay me back with something with equal or more value?”

“I… well, yes. I suppose.” You don’t know what he meant by ‘you people.’ Maybe it was just that the strange man didn’t have to think about monetary things. But whatever a hermit in the woods wanted wouldn’t be too big, would it? “What is it that you would like?”

The man takes a pensive pause, a shadow falling over his dark eyes while they examined you. “I would like you to know that this forest belongs to me.”

You form a funny smile. You’re about to start thinking you’re talking to a crazy person when the fire pit lights by itself. You yelp and jump away but he grabs your hand, a warm calming sensation washes over you from the contact. You look into his eyes, his pupils dilating to an inhuman size, nearly covering his sclera. When you look closer, you can barely make out flecks of light like stars twinkling deep inside them, almost as if you’re peering at a night sky.

He says your name even though you didn’t give it to him but you can’t focus while the back of his hands drifts to your face and runs along your cheek. His thumb and index finger take your chin. “Is your heart hurting, my dear?”

“Yes.” Your heart pounds harder than it did the previous day. You want to ask him what’s going on, how he knows you, why you’re feeling this sort of way but you find yourself leaning closer to this… creature as he begins to change.

The old tattered cloth he wears elongates and forms into magnificent onyx robes embroidered with celestial silver thread, his messy black hair grows longer and more sleek as it brushes over large pointed ears, and his skin pales to match the same hue as the moon. You can't help but think he looks… beautiful.

“I can make it so your heart won’t hurt anymore. Marry me, and you won’t ever have to think about the man who betrayed you or your scowling family ever again.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s telling you, it hardly even registers with you that he knows about your family. All you can think to ask is, “is this a dream?”

He laughs then and the forest seems to echo his amusement with wind blowing at the trees and animals skipping around the two of you. “If this is a dream would you like me to wake you?”

A light material forms around your body and soon an ethereal lush green dress mimicking the shape of the gown you ruined yesterday lays flush up against your body to fit the occasion this man was proposing. You shake your head but still, you’re hesitant.

“Why would you want to marry me? I don’t even know your name.” But you know mine.

“I’ve read into you, my lost princess. You’ll make the perfect companion to help care for these woods. It’s a lonely life and I’ve longed for someone with a heart like yours,” he reaches down to grab your hand and when you don’t pull away, his fingers intertwine with yours. “I’ll give you my name once you agree to be mine.”

“And if I refuse?”

He grins as if he already know that you won’t refuse but he still answers with, “then you won’t be able to repay your life debt.”

The forest grows heavy and you begin to feel the same sensational comfort you felt when you fell asleep after your injury. The trees shake and the creatures of the night call, “join uss.”

Your eyes feel heavy but your body nearly vibrates with blooming excitement. Your lips part and the man squeezes your hand like he already knows you’ll say yes, like you’ve already said yes a hundred times before.

You know you should think on it. You should consider what you were getting yourself into but the more you thought to say no or to ask anymore questions, the foggier your mind got.

“I’ll marry you.” Your answer seems like the only option you had.

The man, this fantastic creature before you, brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses it, sending jubilant waves of pleasant amenity through your body.

The forest changes once more; glowing blue radiance ignite the roots of the trees, twisting around other glimmering fauna so it shows paths among paths that connect the grove together. Magenta balls of light swirl around you and your new betrothed and your eyes widen when you realize that entire forest carries so many other hidden and wonderful treasures.

The man puts an arm around your waist and you don’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest at such an intimate touch. “Then, my sweet, let me show you what will be yours,” he says, “and then you will learn my name. But first,”

“Why don’t we have some tea?”

Tags for EVERYTHING (closed): @yandere-inamorata @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelanore @kpanime @ayeputita @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @bungou-stray-alies-tales-of-aly -of-aly @rubyred-imagines @kattariapenn @heypartypeps @quirktaker @thecryingsombra @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @ghost-of-todoroki @geektastic84 @davalia @glixeo @rubycubix @mekakushi-dan-01-kido

[critical-ramblings]

Mind’s Eye (5/n)

Also on AO3!

“Ich weiss, Mutti!” A boy, about eight or ten years old, came racing down the village path with a book wrapped in his arms. He’d turned back to call to someone out of view, and by the time he was looking forward again he was nearly on top of them.

Fjord tried to get out of the way, but the kid tripped over his own feet and ended up sprawled on his face right in front of them. And it was recognizably Caleb, from the freckles to the pale ginger of his hair. Besides, Nott would know that voice anywhere, even as a child. She stood frozen while Jester rushed forward to help him up...and steal his book.

“Oh, is this in Zemnian?” she asked, crestfallen as she flipped through the pages.

“Ja, and it’s mine!” Little Caleb reached up to grab it, staring around at all of them with none of the fear she’d grown so used to seeing in him. “I have to go to lessons, Herr Gruss makes me do lines if I’m late!”

“What’re you taking lessons for, then?” Fjord asked, crouching down so he was eye level with the boy.

“Just regular stuff. Reading in Common and history and things. Are you an orc?” He reached out to touch Fjord’s face, curious as a cat. Fjord jerked away, scowling for just a second before he modulated the expression.

“Half-orc,” he said, very shortly. Caleb was unswayed.

“Does that mean you’re bandits?” He stood on tiptoe to peer at Yasha’s face more closely, then rounded on Nott. “You look like bandits.”

“We’re, ah, we’re not bandits,” Nott said, resisting the impulse to shrink back into her hood. “We’re...” but she couldn’t think of what they were, really.

“Way too well dressed to be bandits,” Beau chimed in, pulling at the loose silk of her pants like a little curtsy.

At the same time Jester said, “We’re a traveling circus!” in that bright, loud voice of hers.

“Eh, hold on,” Beau made a cutting gesture with one hand, shaking her head. Fjord laughed outright. Caduceus frowned, but thoughtfully. Yasha looked startled and pleased, like she was happy to step back to that part of her life.

Not was horrified. “No, no, absolutely not--” But Little Caleb was already clapping, his smile a laugh that threw his head back. He jumped up and down with Jester, dancing along when she held out her hands.

“I’ve never seen a circus before!” he said, staring around at all of them again. Any thought of lessons was forgotten at once, Nott could see, though he did wrap both arms around his book when Jester handed it back. “What do you do? In a circus, I mean. Are there lions and bears and cockatrices? Do you--” he paused to take a deep, awestruck breath and went on in a whisper, “Do you do any magic in the circus?”

“We sure do,” Jester sang, and then looked around the open street, deprived of her usual introductory trick.

“Hey, Ca--kid,” Nott pulled a piece of wire out of her pouch. “Watch this!” She twiddled her fingers over the bent wire, muttered the same words as always, and said directly into his ear, “Lots of us can do magic, but this trick is yours and mine. You can reply to this message.”

Little Caleb stood there with his mouth hanging open for a second, before launching into a torrent of words that overwhelmed the message spell.

“Does that mean you’ll teach me the spell? Can you hear me right now? Is it like the Farspeech spell they use in the fairytales? Can you hear me even if I go away? Can you reply to my message?”

He took a break for air and Nott rocked back on her heels. “Uhh,” she said, glancing around frantically at the others.

“Here, Jester, throw me up in the air,” Beau said suddenly, very loudly.

“Yeah, okay!” Jester turned and held out her cupped hands without hesitation, though she did look pretty confused about it. Between her lift and Beau’s natural springy abilities, they launched Beau at least ten feet into the air. There was a moment, so quick that Nott almost missed it, where Beau’s flip and spin should have put her flat on her face. It just...didn’t. Out of everything that might have been dreamlike here, Nott hadn’t expected the weirdest thing to be slightly above-average flipping gymnastics.

Then again, this was Caleb’s dream. With a mind like his, maybe crazy dreams like Jester’d talked about weren’t a thing. Nott wished Yeza were here; he was much smarter than her and would have been able to keep up with all this. She missed Luc, who would have been instant best friends with Little Caleb, she was sure. She missed Caleb most of all, her Caleb, even though he was pretty fucked up. Even though she’d never seen him laugh like Little Caleb laughed, putting all of his body into it. Her Caleb had Little Caleb’s curisosity, still, and his intelligence and his humor. Her Caleb had been just as excited to learn message as Little Caleb, he’d just been quieter about it. Mostly, her Caleb had always known what to say when she needed him to say it, and Little Caleb just looked at her, with those big blue eyes and too much trust.

She watched him pester Jester for more information on the carnival (“Will there be big white horses that can walk on their back feet? Will there be dancing bears?”) and fiddled with her bit of wire, wishing she knew what to say to wake him up.

It was Caduceus that heard it first. His ears twitched, and then his long slouch started to straighten. 

“Ducey? You hear something?” Fjord asked, to distract them from Little Caleb’s insistence on seeing his sword-swallowing trick.

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, and then Nott heard it too. A low roaring sound, coming from the direction Caleb had run from. Little Caleb moaned and covered his head with his hands, curling into himself.

“Cal--Bren, what’s wrong?” Jester was the first to put her hands on his shoulders, though everyone else was also instantly on alert.

“He’s doing it again,” Little Caleb muttered, more to himself than to them. He tucked his head beneath his arms and sobbed, a heart-breaking sound that made Nott want to kill whatever had dared to hurt him. “He’s doing it wrong,” Little Caleb continued, but before Jester could do more than look at Nott in anguish, the fire swept into view. It towered as high as the sky, a raging inferno that ate up the road and the buildings to either side. Even from more than fifty feet away, Nott could feel the heat on her face. Over the hungry snap of the flames, she could hear Little Caleb start to scream.

“What the fuck?” Beau had her staff out and was using it to gesture at the swiftly approaching wall of fire. “How do I punch that?”

“Run,” Fjord said, and Nott thought that was a very good idea. She pushed Little Caleb in Jester’s direction (“I can’t carry him, he’s as big as I am!”) and turned to flee...into more fire. What had been the village green was engulfed in unnatural flames, burning without fuel. It looked so much like Caleb’s wall of fire that...

“Fjord!” Nott shouted to be heard over the flames. “I want you to hit Caleb!”

“You want what?!” Not just Fjord but also Jester and Beau shouted back. Caduceus said something, but Nott couldn’t quite make it out over the fire.

“You’re the least likely to hurt him!” Nott grinned manaically, knowing it showed her snaggled teeth. She felt crazy, she felt drunk. She was right, she knew it. “Caleb!” She shouted right in his hear, almost eye level with him from where Jester had him wrapped in her arms. “Caleb, snap out of it!”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Little Caleb didnt’ react to her words at all, just kept muttering the same word over and over. Nott gave Fjord her best beady-eyed goblin glare.

He and Jester exchanged insultingly dubious looks, but the fire was getting awfully close now, and eventually Jester shifted her arms around so Fjord could slap a child. It didn’t do any damage, as Nott had predicted. What she had not predicted, however, was Little Caleb escalating his muttering to the high-pitched scream that only children could manage. The fire rose with him, making Nott back away from the burning heat.

She remembered the intense pain that came with burning, the furious anger at the fire for hurting Caleb, and then. Nothing.

***

Bren walked down the dirt road, Eodwulf on his right side and Astrid on his left. The dead were behind them, but his childhood home loomed out of the evening night, and the work was not yet done. They had each chosen how they would deal with their traitors, and he had been the one to choose fire. Even in the past year it had become his trademark, the magic that came best to his fingertips. That he loved most. And he stoked his heart carefully tonight, hoping the righteous fury would burn away his fear. His parents were only traitors, and deserved to burn.

Still, when he aimed the fireball, he tried to hit their room. It would at least be quick.

Only it wasn’t. The explosion took out a good quarter of the roof, leaving streamers of flame in its wake. After a moment in which he felt a sickening relief, he heard his mother start to scream. It was an awful, gut-wrenching sound that he had never heard her make. Still, he knew it was her. He stood rooted to the spot while, a moment later, the door shook. And he knew what had happened: His father suffered insomnia, some nights. It have been getting more frequent, last time Bren had come home. And his Mutti liked to stay up with him, finishing some small task by the light of a lantern in the kitchen. The kitchen, which had only experienced a corner of the blast. Bren dug his nails into the meat of his palms, feeling blood drip down his fingers as he listened to his parents scream. He would not break, they were traitors, nothing but--

The cart rattled as his father threw his weight against the burning door. Bren flinched, and somehow that involuntary twitch broke him free of his paralysis. He took one stumbling step towards the weakening voices of his parents, his Mutti and Vater, who loved him.

Astrid grabbed at his arm, but missed. Her fingers only scraped across his sleeve, not that it mattered. Bren was capable only of collapsing to his knees, still twenty feet from the house. Because the screams had stopped already. Black smoke that stank of charred meat rose up and swallowed him, choking him. Gratefully, Bren surrendered to the darkness.

[the-horror-of-bloody-vixen]

It had been loud in your womb – it was apt that it would just as riotous out of it.

You will not love it. This it knows. So it will have to make you.

The final chapter of 'Egg Sac' and 'Hush Little Baby'

The thing crawls to you.

“Look, our child {y/n}.” It crooned, long fingers tapping the thing’s head.

The thing looked different each day. When the egg cracked and hatched, shadow spewed forth, limbless and malformed. You had hoped the abomination had been aborted, that your mortality cursed the wretched thing before it could be born.

Unsurprisingly, the thing formed, grasping and shrieking before settling in the arms of your captor.

Like a babe in the arms of their father.

“Perfect.”

You never held it.

It never pressed you, content that you had fulfilled the task it forced upon you. The thing does not weep like a human child, only shrieks and chitters when they felt neglected. At the first sound of displeasure, you’d hear it’s father sweep forth from whence it lurked, cooing and singing to it until the thing cease and slumbers.

It was like watching a mockery.

It would cradle it, its many limbs holding and touching the rot that cracked forth. It watched as the shadows spins and curls; at times a spider like it, another time, a pair of soothing lights and sometimes like the clown, miniature and laughter.

It left you alone, save when to feed you and clean the wounds around your cunt.

The shadow tried once to come close to you but it sensed your apathy and stayed away. So you are ignored and that’s good. It found a companion, an offspring and that’s good.

Sadly, it does not last long.

Eventually the food began to run out and for the first time, since the birth, it decided to go and hunt. The thing slept soundly, even as it, clown and tall, pats you gently on your head, tucking the blanket around your useless legs.

“Keep watch, little one.”

There was silence and you breathed, trying to imagine what the sky was like when you heard it.

It started as a sniffle, like a human baby, so sweet and innocent, that an old buried instinct surged up. Your body twitched as the sniffle hitched and heaved then cracked open, bawling loudly.

Your leg jerked forward, your body almost working when your eyes stared down on the abomination.

The thing is now a child, fleshed and soft. Eyes, so much like yours, widened and watered, five grubby fingers reaching out to you; like it was supposed to be yours.

It bawled and bawled, sounding so young, so innocent, so human, you nearly succumbed.

But that noise.

It had been loud in your womb – it would be apt that it would just as riotous out of it.

Your body slumps as you drew yourself inwards.

You had deafened your ears before, when the thing’s heartbeat echoed within, where you can’t escape.

You still can’t, but you can crawl away and so you did.

Arms once weak, strengthened as you drag yourself away. The cries grew louder in a way that would be heart-breaking. But its progenitor had done you a favour for making you listen to all those children – the food – beg and scream until all they are left as floating parts above you.

You had listened to a poor girl, praying and calling out for her father as it devours her stomach. Watched as a boy, that could barely toddle, try to run as sharp, black claws sink into his skull. Teenagers, countless of them, gibbering, terrified wrecks as they are forced to fight nightmares comes true.

You were serenaded by the death rattle of lives brutally cut short.

Every day.

What is a babe – one so cursed - would hope to entice?

Your love?

You were robbed of all comfort to give any to another.

So you stayed away.

A part of you wondered if the punishment would be severe.

That speck of survival instinct demanded you return and cradle the filth because it would be most unhappy to find the offspring it so loved wailing away, unwanted.

You think of cracked bones and wounded flesh but the fact was: you don’t care.

You crawled away into a corner of the cistern and stared at the abomination, now hiccoughing amidst its bawls.

At times high-pitched, then raspy, then gasping as though hoping a change of tune would entice you. Instead you picked at a broken doll, plucking its dirty red hair, imagining it was your captor’s limbs.

So focused you are, that you didn’t hear them at first.

Once, long ago, you dreamt of escape. There were a few who fought back and that hope, beaten as it were, would burn fiercely as they struck it with the ferocity of one who did not want to die.

Inevitably, they all fail.

So when she came – her hair of fire – you didn’t move, being somewhat glad that the wailing had stopped.

It took you a moment to realize it was not a teenager that’s standing in front of you but an adult.

A female adult.

“Audra?” she gasped and you couldn’t help but blink back. You had no idea who Audra is…and wondered if this was another (punishment) game.

You don’t answer (because you hope it will finally end you).

The woman blinked as she stepped forward, aiming a…

A slingshot? Really?

You must have said it out loud, for the woman startled and shoots -

THWAP

You had been ready but you still yelped as the stone slammed itself against your forehead.

Blood trickled, then sprays all over your face.

The woman screams, high pitched and horrified as shadows, long and cold, slashed and snapped the arm wielding the slingshot.

Wait.

A guttural shriek comes from around the cistern, layered like an angry baby.

Why isn’t it turning back?

You see her face contort with fear and anger as she twists and then strikes the dark limb with her feet. The thing recoiled and slithered as the woman runs off, cradling her broken arm. Babyish cries seem to shake the area even as its victim scampered off, her mouth open, shouting and then…

A group of men rushed in, their footsteps joining the cacophony as they form a human shield around her.

You didn’t notice the shadow morphing back into a tiny babe who wailed at you, its tiny arms reaching out even as you kept staring.

Humans.

Adult humans.

Escape.

You cry out to them, to the group, “Help me, please, please!” but it was drowned by the sounds of clacking limbs and roars as IT slams down in front of you, claws and teeth bared.

“IT!” you hear one of the man shout as they raised their weapons, one pushing the woman back even as the Spider stomped towards them, no doubt intent on murdering them.

“NO! NO! GO AWAY!” you shout, towards your captor, towards the abomination who clung to you.

Gunshots, bats and bones boomed all around you as you try to will your useless legs to move. Cold, shadowy limbs pull you down but you hiss, your hands tried to pry them off. You can taste it, freedom for never before had It face a group, one who are strong and exude nothing but strength.

You had known It never hunted groups – a coward as it was fearsome – its prey were often alone; easier to destroy.

And to your pleasure you watched as one them did something you had only dreamed off: with one swing one of the men snapped of its leg.

The howl that came from it would have made any other human piss their pants – but you were euphoric.

The spider stumbled from shock – you blamed your elation on what happened next.

You shouldn’t have turned your back.

(You’d rather not know if you did)

You will not love it.

This it knows.

So it will have to make you.

One moment you watched as your rapist, captor and child murderer fell into fear and panic, flinging limbs as it tried to comprehend what had just occurred.

The darkness bleeds into your sight and you feel life burning through your limbs.

You stood, your screams drowned as foul life coursed down your throat and you hear it.

It was but a split second but you knew – you knew exactly what was controlling you. With speed inhuman, your body dashed across the cistern and your hands (limp wristed and bruised), bore through flesh and bone.

“EDDIE!”

Eddie’s eyes widened, his lips formed an ‘O’ before your traitorous hand reeled back and his body fell down in a heap. A familiar anguished wail followed and you howl – fearRAGE – as your body twists to the sound. Eyes dark and grieving leapt at you and you wanted him to win, to let him sink the knife into your chest because you don’t want this and you’re sorry, sorry, sorry but your hand clamped down around the man’s head and you snap.

“RICHIE!”

Eddie, Richie – they had names. They had names.

Seven is Strong.

Five Alive.

Three is Trinity

Two Survives.

One however…gone forever.

The remaining three scampered, clinging to each other and you knew.

The katet is no more.

Mercifully It finished off the rest. The woman went down first, her eyes bulged as its foot slammed straight through her belly. The next, who whispered to her – his murmur louder than any screams - fell next; his head sliced clean off his shoulder.

The last – his eyes beautiful blue didn’t even shake and you admired that. He didn’t cower even as the spider morphed into a small boy, clad in yellow and blood.

“Buhbye, little buddy.”

You forget how it felt like to endure despair; even though you’ve heard the same choked noise, the same crowing laughter over and over.

No tears, however.

Your body had run out.

It had won. You knew it had won.

The child released you, snapping your strings as you curl up on the ground, knowing deep down that that was it.

You had been told of it, knew of it but there was always that spark of hope. Hope of escape, no matter how dim your prospects were – but as soon as those blue eyes dimmed – you knew.

You’re mine forever, {y/n}.

The numbness allowed it to sink in and you snuffed it out, that last bit of hope, as It carried you back, this time the thing (your child) coiled around your body, knowing you will not push it away.

And so the terror that should have ended continued.

For in Derry, every 27 years it is said that children would go missing six times the national average, yet though posters and searches were made they were never found again.

The adults seemed to not care, even as their own are dragged away – some say by a creature masquerading as a jovial clown, offering balloons that never stopped floating, another whispered of a shadowy magician who’d delight all with his wicked tricks. Once they hooked you in, then they reveal their forms and devour you until not even your name is remembered.

These warnings are scoffed, for how did they know of these monsters, if their victims never came back?

They don’t remember the answer – none of them do; for if they did, they’d know of the other.

But they don’t – not of the woman whose face bore defeat, who would whisper warnings.

They never allowed any of them too.

[emmaannaelisabeth]

Deal with God pt. I

i’m sorry. this is painful. major tws: dead body, death trope, heavy angst, helplessness, grief. there will be a part two to this so don’t lose faith. it’s probably canon-ish in the swk au, maybe when they’re 19/20. i’m sorry about this, but i hope you enjoy the angst. it’s not the best i’ve written but i hope it’s decent<33 lots of love!!

Eskil rushes over to her. He stumbles and falls, scrapes his knees and hands, gets up and continues to run. His vision blurs; he can barely see her lie there on the ground. I have to help her, I have to save her.

“Ava”, he breathes, falls to his knees by her side. Blue eyes flicker over her body and his golden eyebrows knit together on his forehead. “No”, he whimpers, bends over and takes her face in his hands. “No, no.”

Her head moves too easily in his hands, her jaw falls open and she stares at the sky with half open eyes. Eskil’s heart twists with horror, and he shudders. Tears fall from his eyes and he shakes his head. He sobs and claps her cheek. “No”, he gasps, looking frantically for any sign of life. He fumbles on her soft neck for a pulse, his fingers slippery with blood.

“Nej, nej, helvete, nej”, he sobs and puts his head on her still chest. Already knowing he won’t hear her strong heart beat, he tries to listen. His entire being falls apart. Eskil feels like someone has broken his ribs and ripped his heart out, never to give it back. He doesn’t know what to do. Anguish falls over him like a lavine, he can’t breathe.

“Please.” He sits up straight and tries to make his shaking hands obey. He tries to make her heart start beating, but all he can manage is a sick shudder, passing through her body. Her beautiful head falls to the side. Eskil gathers all the strength he has in one desperate attempt to bring her back.

Ava’s body rattles in a way a human body isn’t supposed to, and Eskil gasps, stops. He stares at her in horror and crawls backwards, away from her. A broken whimper passes his lips and he wraps his arms around himself, bending over and opening his mouth in a soundless scream.

Frantically, he looks at her again. Ava, his northern light, his rainbow in the nightblack Fjerdan sky. His morningstar and sun, his home. She’s dead. Eskil reaches for her hand. His fingers touch hers and he immediately pulls his hand back, as if he’d burned himself. She’s cold. The surface of her skin is cold. Ava’s hands are never cold.

Eskil sobs and clutches his hand, shaking his head again and again. She just got shot, how could her hand already be cold? He stares at her in horror. He doesn’t understand. That’s not Ava anymore. He can’t believe it. That can’t be her. That’s not her. He looks at her hand, refusing to look at anything but her slender bronze fingers. That could be anyone’s fingers.

But then his gaze finds her nightblack hair, and then her neck, and her cheek and chin, and then her lips. He remembers all the times he kissed her, the times he traced the soft skin with his fingertips. Eskil looks at her perfect nose, her thick eyebrows and her beautiful, beautiful eyes. His body twitches; without a single thought in his mind, he pulls her body into his arms.

Her head falls back and Eskil gently takes it in his hand, holding it tight to his shoulder. A whimper passes his lips as he holds her, his body trembles. He wants to dump her and leave. He wants to never touch a person again. He wants to never let go. He wants to throw up and he wants to kiss her. He wants her to come back.

He strokes the back of her neck with his thumb, feeling how the skin doesn’t follow his fingers as it used to. She’s dead. He can feel the warmth still radiate from her, from within. I wasn’t fast enough. His whole world crashes. She’s not there, she’s gone, he’ll never get to take her into his arms and spin her around again.

“I’m sorry”, he sobs, over and over, and kisses the side of her head, kisses her hair and her cheek. His kisses feel so misplaced on her skin, as if they were meant to be somewhere else, as if this was wrong, wrong to kiss her when she can’t say yes. But Eskil can’t help it. If his powers won’t help, maybe his love will. Maybe he’ll be able to close her wounds with words of love.

His tears fall on her skin, blending in with the blood. He can still hear her voice in his head. Be my forever, Eskil. And Eskil falls apart. He rocks her back and forth, terrified to hold her and petrified to let go. He kisses her and sobs into her hair, caresses her face, strokes her cheek with his thumb, holds her as close as he physically can, promising, he won’t let anything happen to her ever again.

“Oh God, please, don’t, no, please, God, no”, he sobs and looks at her. He lifts a shaking hand to her face and closes her eyes; he shudders and whimpers as his fingers touch her damp and cold eyelids. “God, no please”, he begs, praying she’s only asleep, praying she’ll come back. I’ll do anything. Just give her back. “Djel, please no.”

Eskil sobs and buried his head in her hair. Hot tears stream down his face, but he doesn’t care. Her hair still smells like she was alive. It smells like it did this morning, when he laid beside her, when he heard her heart beat in sync with his. Now he can only hear one.

Eskil.

His eyes widen and for a second, he thinks he can hear her. He could’ve sworn he heard a voice and a heartbeat. But Ava is just as lifeless as she was a moment ago.

Eskil, don’t cry, a voice says from behind him. And Eskil stops sobbing, he just stares at the ground, holds Ava even closer. Fear fills his heart, he feels like he recognises the voice but still doesn’t.

“Go ahead”, he says. “Shoot me too.” He waits for the gunman that took Ava away from him to click the safety off and pull the trigger. Eskil can feel their presence, he knows they’re there, and he also knows he could easily kill them if he just looked their way. But right now, he’d rather die.

I can’t, the voice says. A flare of anger explodes in Eskil’s chests and he snaps his head around. “What do you mean ‘can’t’? You fucking killed-” His voice dies in his throat. There’s no gunman behind him. There’s not even a person there.

It’s a light.

[punsandtofu]

Memories (Compiled RP)

azarathian:

All around her was flame and slaughter.

The skies above bled crimson down on the city, roaring with the inferno it bore, all ablaze in suffering and screams. Raven stood amid the carnage, upon the brink of a building she once knew, ingesting the horrors of the world unfolding before her. Along her flesh, lacerations of a burning threat laced her thin arms, the porcelain of her thighs. She grimaced against the heat, but could only endure, unable to move. Unable to look away.

In the distance, a throng of screams pierced her ears. She looked down at the rubble and wreckage to see her four friends, small as ants from her stance on the tower. Above the shrieks, a sudden, foreboding laugh echoed in the walls of her mind, only to swell like a chilling crescendo. Her blood curled in her veins the instant those four bloody eyes emerged in the sky, a sick sort of pleasure deep in their stare.

This was undoubtedly hell on earth. And she’d seen it before. She knew its relentless scald like the back of her hand.

When that sinuous claw plunged from above, she could only scream out, wide-eyed as the figures below were crushed beneath its merciless force.

All at once, her eyes were flung open. She launched upright in her bed, breath heavy and quick as it fled from her lungs into the darkness around her. Her pupils were shrunken in her sockets, hands quivering upon the mattress below her as she felt the bead of sweat trickle down her temple.

A dream. It was a dream. Just a dream.

The Azarathian relayed the fact to herself over and over in her mind, determined to calm her senses and bring herself back to the world of reality. Still, she shook in place, welding her eyes shut before prying them open again to gauge the sight of her room. She was safe. She was at home, in her room, and she was safe. She wasn’t in danger. Her friends were safe. That was all that mattered.

After several minutes of sighing out the trauma, the weight still pressed down on her gut like a boulder. She had to get air. She was practically gasping for it.

Immediately, she threw her duvet from her and rushed for the door, intent on the nearest exit she could reach. The clamour she made on her way out caused some noise, but she didn’t stop to think she might wake someone. She didn’t even know what time it was; she only knew it was dark.

The magus finally reached the tower’s main exit. She leaned against the door frame as the ocean wind hit her like a bullet to her skin. It shook her from her fear. Reminded her that she was awake and alive.

Slowly, Raven ambled down the rocks till she found sanctum upon a flat boulder, overlooking the surprisingly still sea. And finally, looking out to the city she knew was unharmed, she could breathe. punsandtofu: Beast Boy lied in his bed, not yet ready to sleep, only resting. Hands behind his head, he thought of Raven for the umpteenth time that night. She was just so amazing, he thought. It felt like anything he once viewed negatively about her, he could put a positive spin on. She was dark, which made her mysterious and interesting. She kept to herself, which made it all the more enjoyable when she joined him. She rarely smiled, which made each one a victory. Then there were the facts that she’s beautiful, intelligent, caring, and strong. His ears twitched as he heard some movement from Raven’s room. Was she awake? Morphing into a cat, he leaped from his bed and placed his ear to the wall. He could hear heavy breathing. It was just a bad dream, he assumed. Hoping she would fall back asleep and forget about it in the morning, he decided to leave her alone. Though he decided on leaving her alone when she exited her room, assuming she needed the restroom or something, he changed his mind when she didn’t return after a few minutes. Having a feeling where she was, he exited his room, then the Tower, to find her outside. Not wanting to startle her, he gave her a “Hey,” before approaching her and sitting down next to her. “You alright?”

azarathian: Relax. It wasn’t real. It was all in your head. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you, or your friends. Not any more… Breathe… Despite her rational thought struggling to pull her back to the present, her anguish and fear spoke louder. It had felt so vivid. She could still feel the singe of her fate lining her arms in his fire. The night’s chill was almost lost to the memory of cinders scorching in the air. Her skull pulsed, wavering from the truth and lingering to the past. With tense shoulders, she brought her legs up on the rock, arms leaning upon her thighs and hands limp across her knees. Once again, she tried to breathe in the crisp night-tide wind, eyes cast down solemnly to the waves lapping at the island’s bank.

“Hey.”

With a start, her head rose, but she gave no other movement. She should’ve sensed his presence a mile off, but had been drowned deep in reverie.

“You alright?”

Honestly, in that moment, she couldn’t tell whether the boy’s company was a blessing or a curse. Nonetheless, she lacked the will to reject it, merely sighing out as he took a seat beside her.

“I’m fine,” she lied, almost trying to convince herself of the same thing. She’d managed to regain that recognisable tone, level and composed, though her eyes held another story. punsandtofu:

“Raven… You don’t have to lie to me.” He knew for a fact that she was lying. Her posture, her eyes, the fact she was even out here… He knew something was wrong. “If you just need some fresh air and quiet to feel better, tell me. But don’t lie and say you’re fine when you’re not.” He hoped she wouldn’t tell him to go away, but he would understand if she did. He gave her the opportunity for some company and that’s all he could really do. “I just want to help. But, if you want, I’ll leave.” azarathian: In a way, she was grateful for his prying. Now she’d learnt to read his actions in a different light, she could appreciate that he was trying his best to make her feel cared for. Even the fact he said he’d leave if she wished hadn’t gone unnoticed; they really were growing to understand and respect each other better…

“It’s nothing,” she breathed, eyes still clung to the ripples of the sea beneath her feet.

“I just had a bad dream. I needed some air, that’s all.” She hoped the confession didn’t sound too pathetic, nor divulge the essence of fear she’d experience mere minutes before. punsandtofu: Just as he suspected. He appreciated that she told him the truth. “Well, at least it was just a dream, so you shouldn’t have to worry about it. I’ve had to do that too sometimes; get out of bed to clear my head. Especially with those nightmares where you keep waking up, only to realize you’re still in the nightmare.” He didn’t think any less of her for needing to calm down from a nightmare. It meant she had emotions just like everyone else.“You want to talk or anything? It might work as a distraction.” azarathian:

She knew he was right. She didn’t have to worry about Trigon any longer. Not in the real world, at least. Still, she felt him inside her like he’d never left. A feeling she’d grown used to her whole life, and probably something she would never fully be able to relinquish.

And in honesty, she wasn’t sure how much good talking would do, as the sibyl had never allowed herself to just sit beside another and share her feelings on such a matter. It was too personal. Too deep-rooted. And yet, his inviting words played on her thoughts as they sat below the canopy of cloud. It felt as though they were the only two in the world; as though they could scream if they wished, and no one would ever hear…

Raven bit at her bottom lip in contemplation.

“… Yeah. I think I do,” came her soft and tentative voice, though she truly hadn’t a clue where to begin. punsandtofu: He was a bit surprised that she agreed. Though they had been getting along, she had always been the listener. Maybe now he could be the one to listen to her and learn more about her. “So, what happened?” azarathian: She pressed her lips together, lost for where to begin. Her brows creased a touch as she envisioned the dream again in her head; a sight she didn’t really wish to dwell on, but still helplessly felt the need to share with the other. “It was about Trigon.” She managed to force out the sentence, and that was all she needed to spur her on with what followed. “He was back on earth. Everything was destroyed, and…” Her voice trembled a little in the back of her throat as the images played before her, almost tangible. “It felt so real. Like he was really here again.” punsandtofu: His eyes widened a bit at the mention of Trigon. He could see why she would be frightened by that. Seeing the planet you and all those you care about destroyed must really take a toll on the mind. He needed to make sure she felt safe. He could only do so much, but he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But it wasn’t real. You already lived through your worst nightmare. And you won. You defeated him and he’ll never come back. And even if he did, you’d just defeat him again.”

“It’s okay to be scared, but you don’t need to be. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ll always win in the end.” azarathian: She accepted the reassuring touch to her shoulder, and her eyes flitted to his direction without actually rising to meet his own. “It’s just… hard. His presence has followed me since I was born. Sometimes… it’s hard to believe it’s over. That he’s really gone.” Despite her fears, she knew her words to be true; for it was over. He was gone. But even having defeated the merciless demon she called her father, he still managed to plague her in her thoughts. In her sleep. punsandtofu: “I guess it would be hard to let go of something that’s affected you your whole life… You were told your whole life you couldn’t defeat him, weren’t you? You were discouraged all that time. And you still did it. Imagine what you could do when encouraged!”

“You can do it, Raven! I believe in you! Beat up those doubts!” azarathian: Optimistic as ever. If anything, the lively lilt to his words served to tug her all the more back to reality and away from her nightmares. And for that, she was grateful. The events of her fate had happened over a year ago now, yet she imagined it would take a much longer time before she could find true peace with the fact it was over. As he questioned her, she nodded lightly. But when his little peppy cheer followed, she couldn’t help the giggle it drew from her once frowning lips. Finally, she looked to him. “Easier said than done, but I’ll try.” punsandtofu: Yes! He got a smile and a giggle out of her! “I’ll be here to cheer you on. I’ll even get pom-poms, if you want!” He chuckled.

“By the way… if you wouldn’t mind… I was wondering… What was your life like before the Titans? We’ve known each other for years and we’ve been talking more recently, but I feel like I don’t know much about you. I want to know you better… If that’s okay.” azarathian: The smile faded from her face, a look of hesitance taking its place. As a breeze passed between the two, she let a pause linger before speaking up. “What do you want to know?” punsandtofu:

He noticed her smile fade. Was he pushing it? “Well, things like where you’re from, what your childhood was like, who raised you, how you learned to control your powers. If you’re not comfortable with that, you don’t have to tell me.” azarathian: She shook her head, assuring him she didn’t mind him asking. She just wasn’t quite sure how to answer; her past wasn’t something she could exactly sum up in a sentence or two. “Well…” She swallowed, hands moving from her lap to press down on either side of her against the rock she sat on. Leaning back slightly, the wind caught the tresses of her hair as she breathed out, searching for where to begin. “I’m from a dimension called Azarath… It’s where I grew up, until I came to Earth.” The latter three questions he’d asked honestly all tied in together. “I was raised in a temple there, by Azarathian monks… they’re the ones who also trained me to control my powers.” So far it sounded like a somewhat decent childhood. Raven didn’t know quite how to explain the intricacies that proved it was anything but. punsandtofu: He nodded slightly as he listened.  He could relate to being raised by those other than his birth parents and being trained to better utilize his powers, but he suspected that their experiences were quite different. “Was it nice in Azarath? Was it anything like Earth? You didn’t seem to have much trouble adapting to our culture, like Starfire did. Or did you research it ahead of time? Given your smarts, I wouldn’t doubt it.” He kept his eyes on her, hooked on every word she said. He wanted to know all he could about her.

azarathian: Truth be told, Azarath had been a place of beauty before the destruction of Trigon. Raven could see the labyrinth of buildings, the glassy spires towering tall in her mind’s eye. But though it was beautiful, that didn’t mean it was nice. For the magus, at least, her home divulged memories of isolation, rejection, and suffering from both her people and her mentors. She was the devil’s child, after all. Her home was the husk of a young girl’s lost hope. It was only upon coming to Earth did she learn what true happiness felt like.

“It was… similar, in a lot of ways,” she began. “My people are pacifists. Their culture has its differences, but it was easy to adapt here. I can’t say I had the same childhood as any other on Azarath, though. I think that makes my perspective distorted from the rest.” punsandtofu: He found it strange that he could relate yet again. Even before he got his powers, he most certainly didn’t have an average childhood. “Pacifists, huh? Does that mean they were gentle with raising you?” He thought for a moment. “Or were they strict like some of the religious people here?” He hoped they were kind, but he knew in his gut that they weren’t. If they were kind and loving, why would she have been so cold when arriving to Earth? He frowned deeply at the thought of Raven being mistreated.

azarathian: She released a long, deep sigh to the wind. She should’ve guessed this question was coming, and yet it still stunted her to think back on her time under the monks’ meticulous hold. “Strict,” she confirmed, a waver in her tone. No point in sugar-coating the experience, she thought. “They trained me every day, from the break of dawn to sunset. They had to. I wasn’t allowed to feel, or I’d be scolded… It was only when I was around six years old that I began to understand why.”

A silence hung between them for a moment.

“They had their reasons. They all knew who I was - what I was. I had to be under control at all times, or else who knows what would happen. So I was kept in the temple where I grew up. I couldn’t leave or see anyone from the outside. It was… not your average childhood. Even by Azarath’s standards.” punsandtofu: “And I thought Mento was strict…” He mused aloud. “Not being allowed to feel… That must have been harsh. I can’t imagine living like that… I’m sorry you didn’t get to have a real childhood… But… I suppose the past is in the past. You have your whole life ahead of you now. With us. You can feel all you want with us.” He offered a small smile. “Feel what you want, talk to who you want, do what you want… You have a new life now. Live it as you see fit.” azarathian: In reality she knew that he had no idea. The experience of her youth was not something that could be fully understood by merely reciting it; in fact, doing so was simply scratching the surface. Still, he meant well. He just wanted to know more about her, and in many ways, she wanted to tell him more about her.   “Yeah.” Her heavy tone seemed to settle a touch as the prospect of the future dawned upon her. Her past was just that, after all. Past. Not present, nor future, and for now she could live her life as she wished. No longer burdened by her destiny or her father. Reflecting on this, the weight in her chest lifted and she returned Beast Boy’s smile with her own. “You’re right. And I’m thankful for it.” The girl clung her eyes to his. “What about you?” she asked. “Where were you raised?” punsandtofu: She wanted to know about him? That was a good sign, right?

“Me? Well, believe it or not, I wasn’t raised in America. Not at first, anyway. My parents, my real parents, were biologists. We traveled the jungles of the world for their research. My childhood was spent in Africa, Brazil, India… lots of places, really. Since we traveled so much, I didn’t go to school. My parents taught me instead. They were hoping I’d grow up to be brilliant, like them. So much for that, huh?” He gave a slight chuckle. “That’s why my real name is what it is. They told me I was named after a famous doctor, not the comic strip cat.” azarathian:

“Really?”

She knew bits and pieces about Beast Boy’s past, but had always assumed he’d grown up in America. California was where he was when she’d met him; she thought at most he’d have lived somewhere outside the city, but not outside the country.

“Too bad you act more like the cat than the doctor, though,” she smirked at him, watching his reaction before she decided to ask more questions. punsandtofu: “Yes, really.” Deciding to have a little fun at his own expense, he pouted.

“I hate Mondays!” He gave her a playful smirk. azarathian: “The resemblance is uncanny,” she drawled. “So, what was it like travelling ‘round so much? Did you like it?” punsandtofu: “I liked it. It was all I knew, at that point. I got to meet lots of people, see lots of animals, try different kinds of food… It sucked when I met someone cool and had to leave though.” azarathian: “Yeah, I can imagine.” It was actually proving very interesting to hear about Beast Boy’s past; she found it hard to imagine him as a child. To imagine him without his powers and living his life before the titans, or even the Doom Patrol. Suddenly all kinds of questions formed in her head, and she was eager to have them answered, if not for anything else then to serve as a good distraction from her own past memories. “And your parents? What were they like?” punsandtofu:

“They were great, smart, adventurous, loving… all around great people, really. From what I remember, everyone seemed to like them. They knew a lot of smart and interesting people. They used to show me off.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t very bright, but they had me recite animal facts I knew. I’d always loved animals, even before I got my powers.” azarathian: His reflective smile mirrored on her face as she watched him and listened. There must’ve been something very bittersweet about discussing his childhood, she assumed. It sounded like he had quite a nice one while his parents were still living. She gave a light chuckle. “Did they show off your ears too?” she teased. But as soon as the words left her, she instantly shunned them, for she realised a second too late that, of course, he wouldn’t have had his pointy ears at that time. Nor his green complexion, nor fangs, nor powers. It had been a stupid mistake, but she feared now she had stirred some of the not-so-happy memories. This unease made itself known in her frown and creased forehead.

“Oh, I mean-” she scoured for a save, but couldn’t find one. “… Sorry.” punsandtofu: He gave a weak smile. “Heh. It’s fine. But, no, they didn’t. I only had my powers for a very short time before they… y’know…”

“They gave me my powers, you know. Back when I was around seven years old, my parents were searching for a rare green monkey. They found it… or rather… I found it. I thought it was pretty. It was little and fluffy and green, my favorite color.”

“Being a dumb little kid, I tried to pet it. But, when I got close, it bit me. Then I got sick. Really sick. The bite gave me the Sakutia virus. In order to save me, my parents made a mix of animal… antigens, I think it was? It cured me, but also gave me my green appearance and ability to transform.” azarathian: “– before they… y’know…” She felt a lump form in her throat, a pressure grow in her chest. But her eyes stayed on him. “Mm,” she nodded in understanding. “It must’ve been a big scare for you all. It’s a good thing your parents were such brilliant people, and could save you. You must be proud to be their son…” Hesitantly, her smile attempted to return, though this time around there was a certain sympathy weaved within it. A brief pause deterred her speech. “And there’s no doubt they’d be proud to be your parents.” punsandtofu: “I am proud to be their son, but, do you really think they’d be proud of me? They were geniuses and I’m… not. And they were able to save me, but I couldn’t save them.” He looked a way, being overcome with a feeling of guilt.“There was a flood… about a month after I got my powers. I tried to save them, but I couldn’t turn into any animal that was strong enough. I kept trying and trying, but I couldn’t get them to safety. I watched them drown… before I flew away.”

azarathian: As she absorbed the story, a frown formed. It was a horrible thing to hear, and she could only imagine what the reality of living it had felt like, and to a child no less. Raven had always known that her teammate’s parents were no longer alive, that they’d passed when he was very young. But until now she had been unaware of the intricacies their tragedy held; that Beast Boy had been present to witness his parents’ death, that his life was almost taken along with theirs in the chaos. The guilt he harboured was evident in his pained expression, and caused Raven’s stomach to churn with empathy for the boy. “Beast Boy,” she said, a hand instantly planted to his shoulder to better keep him grounded. One of them had to be strong here, and though the changeling was incredibly strong in his own right, she undoubtedly had far more practise with controlling her emotions.

“You and I both know that their death wasn’t your fault. Don’t think it for a second.” Her tone was stern and level. It had to be, for his sake, though she could have easily succumbed to the same temptation to release tears. It was against her nature to do so, by now.

“We can’t change what happened. But know that they would be proud of you. Despite all that’s happened, look at where you are now. You should be proud of yourself, too.” punsandtofu: He was trying his best to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He brought his hand to the empath’s on his shoulder. Grabbing it tightly, perhaps too tightly, he tried to find the strength not to break down completely. He took sharp breaths as he choked back sobs, unsure of why he was fighting it in the first place. Raven told him it was okay to cry, but he’d spent so long trying to pretend he was happy all the time.His breathing began to calm and he loosened his grip on her hand, but still held it for support. “I guess I was responsible for taking down the Brotherhood of Evil.” He said trying to stay positive. “I never thought I’d be able to lead like that.” He offered a strained smile. azarathian: The hand upon her own didn’t go unnoticed, and though her eyes flitted to the sight for a moment, there was a more pressing matter before her. In the space of a mere few weeks, she’d never seen the teen so vulnerable and willing to open up before. And she could now say that this wasn’t the first time her friend looked upon her with teary eyes. His unfaltering facade of constant merriment and revelry was once again peeling back to expose the troubled and tortured boy beneath. She let him breathe, though his breaths came in sobs. It didn’t matter. He needed a moment to calm himself, and she knew this. Sure enough, before long, he seemed to regain himself as best he could for the moment, and it was then that Raven looked on at him with complete patience and consideration. “But you did,” she said. “And you’ve done much more.” Her hand fell from his shoulder as she leaned back and looked out to the sea. “You’re a hero, Beast Boy. I think because we do this sort of thing every day, it’s easy to forget that…” Her eyes found his again. “I’m sorry you couldn’t save them… But you’ve saved so many others since, and for that you should be proud.” punsandtofu: He brought his hands to rest at his sides on the rocky shore. Taking a deep breath of the night air, he exhaled, calming down a bit further. He looked to her with a smile. “I may have not been able to save my blood relatives, but I have saved my family more than once; the Doom Patrol, you guys…” He looked to the sea and sighed.

“But that wasn’t always appreciated. Did I ever tell you how I first turned into a large animal?” That was a rhetorical question. He knew he hadn’t. “We were fighting the Brotherhood of Evil; me and the rest of the Doom Patrol. They had a black hole generator. They got caught in some sort of trap of energy that was hurting them and they couldn’t escape from. Mento told me I needed to destroy the generator. It was too big for me though. But, when I saw my team, my family, in danger like that, I was finally able to transform into something big; a T-rex!” He smiled excitedly. “I finally turned into something big! And my first priority was to set them free. I destroyed the trap with my giant tail and freed them! Negative Man took out the generator after that. I was so happy! After years of trying to transform into something big, I did it! I transformed and saved my family! I was so excited when I told Mento I finally did it, but…” He frowned as he remembered what happened next. “He just yelled at me. He yelled at me because I saved their lives instead of destroying the generator, which got destroyed anyway. He told me I would never be a part of the team if I couldn’t follow orders.” azarathian: “Did I ever tell you how I first turned into a large animal?” Though he wasn’t looking at her, she gave a small shake of her head, listening intently and absorbing the mingle of emotions in his face as he relayed the memory. “He’s a harsh leader,” she stated with assurance. She knew this already from having observed the way he treated his own team during their fight with the Brotherhood. “You have to see things through his eyes. He looks at the bigger picture, beyond his team. To him, they’re second priority to defeating the villain. That’s the most important thing. But we don’t do things his way. We look out for each other, and when that happened for you - when you transformed - that’s what you were doing. Looking out for your team. Your family. … Just because he does things differently doesn’t mean it’s right. You did the right thing, in the end.” punsandtofu: “Tell me about it. I lived with him for years. I know what he’s like. He sees the bigger picture… unless you achieve the bigger picture without following his orders.”

He scowled, showing his anger at his former leader. He’d never have talked like this while he was back with the Doom Patrol. Mento would never allow it. “He only cares if you obey his orders, thinking he always knows what’s best in every situation. He acts like you can’t see the bigger picture and care about the smaller one at the same time. I know what I did was the right thing, but it burns me up to think of how he’s supposed to be a leader, but he can’t lead us to do the right thing.” He was on a rant now, one that had been building up for years. “And he cares more about being the Doom Patrol than anything else. We’re supposed to be a family too. Him and Rita? They’re my adoptive parents. Legally, I’m their son. But, did he care? No. Whenever Rita showed me too much affection, Mento would argue with her, telling her I needed more discipline. He’d even get mad when I called Rita Mom. She’s my mother now, but I can’t even call her that in front of him. Is it really that much to ask to be a team and a family?“ azarathian: Only remnants of how Beast Boy felt towards his adoptive father had shown through in the discord of their battle with the Brotherhood, but even then it had been apparent to any observant eye that he held within him certain dregs of resentment from how the man had treated him in his youth. Clearly Mento wasn’t the ideal father figure; it was somewhat a surprise Beast Boy turned out the way he did considering the strict and steely nature he’d been raised on. In her mind she credited him for not having picked up on the man’s traits, and felt almost grateful for the fact. It just didn’t suit the boy to be cold and sharp. He could’ve grown into someone she wouldn’t recognise as her teammate at all, but thank Azar, he seemed to maintain his true parents’ innate kindness and zeal. “It’s not. And that’s why you’re with us now. We are your team and family. And you don’t do things his way anymore. We have our own way, and that’s all you need to focus on now. Let him lead his team how he sees fit – you’re no longer a part of it.” punsandtofu: He sighed. “You’re right. The Doom Patrol are adults. They can speak out or leave the team, if they want to. I didn’t really have that choice… I mean, I guess I did. I did leave eventually. I just didn’t leave sooner because I didn’t want to be a wandering, homeless orphan. It’s not like I would have been adopted again. Who would want a kid who’s green?” He paused. “But, that’s the past, like you said. I have a home now, with the Titans. And I can visit the Doom Patrol whenever I want. I have two homes. That’s more than most people have.” His usual grin returned. “I guess I do have it pretty sweet right now.”

azarathian: “Exactly,” she smiled, relieved to see that cheerful air return to him. “And if you find yourself hung up on the past again, just try to remember that. Things are different now, for all of us. It’s all worked out in the end. That’s what matters. ”In a strange way, she was grateful he’d shared these concerns with her not only because it disclosed his trust in her, but also because it served as a good distraction from her own burdens that had led her to reflect outside the tower in the first place. She might not have two homes like the boy beside her, but she had her friends, her home, her whole future - all things she had been completely convinced were intangible things. “I guess we all have it pretty sweet right now,” she echoed, quite unlike herself, but in the moment she didn’t care. It was true, after all. punsandtofu: He chuckled, not used to Raven using the term “sweet” in such a manner. Smiling to himself, he watched the sea with a content sigh. He was in a good mood now and she seemed to be too. Maybe now would be a good time to ask something he’d been planning to… “So…” He drummed his fingers against the rocky shore. “Do you wanna hang out tomorrow? I was thinking we could visit that one cafe and you could recommend a tea you think is good. I never really drink the stuff, but you make it look like it’s delicious.” Honestly, he wasn’t interested in tea. He just wanted to go somewhere with her he knew she would like.  azarathian: The little laugh merely deepened the warmth in her smile, eyes soft as they looked to him. She hadn’t understood just how important his happiness was to her. There was something extremely wrong about seeing Beast Boy upset and distressed, and she honestly felt a certain need to amend the troubles in his mind. At his offer, she blinked a touch, a blend of surprise and an unexpected flurry of something else. Something unfamiliar… … Eagerness? For some reason, the first answer that formed in her mind was ‘Yes.’ Nothing more, nothing less. And the realisation of this instinctively shocked the girl, for such a proposal would’ve always led to a solid, sturdy ‘no’. When had that changed?… “That… sounds nice,” she admitted, tactfully revealing but a tinge of the emotional flood stirring within her chest. Behind her ribs, a faint flutter dwelled, though she ignored the sensation as best she could. punsandtofu: Yes! He was celebrating internally, trying to keep the excitement from showing. He didn’t want to put her off with his eagerness. “Alright, tea for two tomorrow it is then~” He stretched with a yawn. He hadn’t slept that night yet and he was starting to feel the effects. “Hopefully, it’s the kind that wakes you up.” He chuckled. azarathian: If she were to dwell on it, Raven would come to conclude that the arrangement seemed, in short, entirely extraordinary for the two. True, over the past month they’d spent a handful of times together without the presence of their fellow companions, and yet no such thing had ever taken place outside the tower before. Of course, this discluded matters regarding their profession; patrols and the like weren’t exactly considered leisurely. Who knew? Perhaps having grown closer to one another, spending some time just for the sake of it could be nice, after all. Ultimately, there was only one way to find out, and against her reputation, some unknown force was undoubtedly urging her to take the chance. His yawn brought her to her senses, acknowledging how late it had become during their talk. Time was something completely unknown to her in that instant; they could’ve been sat out on the harbour for a mere ten minutes or an hour. Either way, she wouldn’t know.

“Yeah,” Raven returned wearily. “Maybe we should… go back inside. It’s late.” punsandtofu: He pulled his sleeve up to check his watch. “You’re right. Jeez. I didn’t realize how late it was.” He stood up and stretched. “Gotta get to bed.” He turned and headed towards the tower. azarathian: As he rose to his feet, she granted herself one last glimpse of the ebony ocean waves and city lights before following his lead and heaving herself from the rock she’d been sat upon. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, cloak catching in the breeze as she followed his path and quickly caught up to his pace. Hopefully this time she would be able to get back to sleep with ease. Her mind certainly felt more settled and calm than it had been before the other joined her. punsandtofu: Once inside, Beast Boy gave a “Goodnight.” and headed for his room. Rather than going straight to bed, however, he decided to look for something first. Finding the item, he tucked it away and headed back to Raven’s room, lightly knocking on her door. “It’s me. Mind if I show you something real quick?” azarathian: “Night,” she echoed quietly, careful not to wake any of the others now they were back in the tower’s corridor. She entered her room and let the door slide shut behind her, but as soon as she took her first few steps she was halted as she heard a light tapping again at her door. She turned and paced back to the sound, to be met with the same face she’d talked to through the night. “What is it?” she asked, curious. punsandtofu: He smiled. “Something I’ve never showed any other Titan. After the talk we just had, I think you should see it.” He pulled out a photo and handed it to her. The picture showed a man, woman, and young boy. The three were posing in front of a lion enclosure at an animal sanctuary. The boy was pretending to have claws and snarling at the camera while the other two made similar faces. azarathian: When he took out the photograph, her eyes fell instantly to it, taking in the image it displayed.  The two adults looked like no one she’d seen before, but the child… He looked awfully familiar, in a vague and strange way. The boy adorned messy blonde hair, a fair complexion and bright, baby-blue irises that seemed to light up his entire face. She surveyed the picture, a twist of confusion burnished in her wandering stare. And then, like a bolt, it hit her. Her lips drew apart and brows rose in succession.

“Is that you?”

Bewildered, the question left her with a heavy resonance that almost filled the hallway. punsandtofu: He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. Not Beast Boy, but Garfield.”

“Hard to believe it’s me, huh? And those are my parents, if you couldn’t tell. It was a long time ago, but, if I remember right, we were at an animal sanctuary in Africa. We visited a lot of those when I was a kid. Most people can’t just visit a sanctuary, so I was lucky to get to see all those animals like that.” azarathian: Raven’s fingers found one of the photograph’s edges, tracing over the border before gently taking hold of it to get a better look. When Beast Boy released his own grip on the photo she took it as a sign of permission to do so, so she brought it closer to her line of sight, absorbing every aspect of the three figures within. Her face was wistful, and her eyes once again examined the boy in the photo, only to look up and compare to the teen she saw in front of her and had come to know. “Lucky you,” she smirked, resisting the urge to tease. It was just such a rare thing to see him like this; it was almost as if she was looking at a different person, and yet certain features made it clear that they were, in fact, one in the same. She noted the playful way his parents mimicked the lion claws and snarl. “They look like they were really great people…” punsandtofu: “They were. Even though they were busy people, they always made time for me. They took time from their work to have fun.” He looked at the picture in Raven’s hands with a smile. “I think that’s part of why I am the way I am. They taught me you can work and play. They also knew how to make me smile. It’s funny. Even though she was my mom, she would always tell dad jokes to cheer me up. Dad usually just made faces. They made it difficult for me to ever be mad at them. They always wound up making me laugh.” azarathian: Somehow it was all seeming to fall into place; why Beast Boy so stubbornly remained the jokester that he was. His parents clearly influenced his personality far more than the trauma he’d lived through had. Far more than Mento’s constant berating. No - the changeling stayed determined even after all these years to preserve the positivity his parents left with him. And Raven was only realising this now… It all made sense. And, honestly, she admired him greatly for it. “Safe to say you’ve inherited that side of them,” the empath smiled. “They’d be happy you have, too. Even if it tends to grate on the rest of us.” It was merely another tease, and she knew he’d recognise it as such by now. punsandtofu: He chuckled.

“I try~ I try~” He smiled. “Thanks, Raven. It means a lot. I used to worry I was just a goof, but talking about it made me realize I’m more like my parents than I thought. And since they were great, I guess that makes me great too. And hey, some people like the comic relief guy!” azarathian: “And when you find those people, I’m sure you’ll feel very fulfilled,” she smirked, handing the photo back to him with a light touch so as not to crinkle the corner. “Thanks for showing me. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.” punsandtofu: He smirked right back. “It’s a shame there aren’t any people like that staying in the room next to mine.” He chuckled, taking the picture back. “You’re welcome. Thanks for listening. I don’t get to talk about my parents much. It felt nice. Well, I’ll see ya.” azarathian: “Tragedy,” she returned with a slight glint in her eye, willingly playing along. “It’s fine. Sleep well, see you tomorrow.” With that, she turned back to her room and once more the door slid shut behind her. As she wandered over to her bed, she noticed the clock on her bedside table read 3:40am. The moment the hour dawned on her, her eyes felt suddenly very heavy. Sleep was calling for her, and this time she had faith that her return to slumber would be a more pleasant one. She hoped, at least. As the heroine slunk beneath her quilt, she allowed her thoughts to dissipate into the air. She no longer had the energy to mull over nightmares of the past; though, if Raven had possessed any energy at all, she would’ve probably found herself contemplating a different matter entirely. No longer would Trigon occupy her thoughts, but the acknowledgement that she had, in fact, agreed to an outing with her green teammate for the following day. Willingly agreed. Because she wanted to. Indeed, had she possessed the energy, this realisation would’ve almost certainly plagued her mind well into the dawn. However, as it happened, the poor sorceress was entirely drained as her cheek nuzzled into the pillow beneath her. Slender fingers curled around the bridge of her duvet, pulling it close to her chin as she lay snug in her bed, slave to the deep sleep overcoming her. [ FIN ]

[myselfinserts]

she can’t speak your language anymore. she talks in the language of dead people now.

The moon was slowly rising high in the night sky, bathing the world in a soft, loving silver gleam. The woods were alive with the bustle of camp, smoke rising from the fires as a wave of meat scents wafted through the air. There were a few guards patrolling, and a rather nice tent near the center was busy with many bandits coming in and out to visit the priestesses. 

The entire area stank of death. 

Lady L smirked. “This will be fun.”

“I don’t think it will,” Regi said. “Are you sure this is where Marianne was taken? It’s so far from our camp...”

“Rest assured. She’s here.” L took a deep breath, preparing herself. “Regi, I’m going to need you to go locate Marianne. When you do, do what she says.”

He stared at her in shock. “Are you sure? What about you?”

“No need to worry.” She adjusted her veil, raising her hood up so her face was completely hidden. “I’ll take care of the bandits.”

Regi watched her carefully. There was no fear. No anger. Only acceptance. It was clear that Lady Lazarus had a plan on taking care of this. Reluctantly, he adjusted his ponytail, pinning it into a bun so that it wouldn’t be grabbed as he tried to sneak in. He was glad for the dark green of his robes, blending perfectly into the foliage. He took his sash from around his shoulders and wrapped it tightly around his face. 

“Alright. Let’s go then.”

Marianne kept Myko’s face covered, breathing slow, controlled breaths as she prayed that no one came to check on her. The mama cat, Meatloaf, was fast asleep with her litter of kittens in their basket. The area around her was deserted for the most part, with most of the bandits having gone toward the center of camp. She had heart a few excited cheers coming from the central tent. 

Whatever was going on, someone was happy about it. 

And Marianne didn’t want to know why. 

I just want to go home.

Soon, the cries of cheer became cries of anguish and sorrow. The sound of metal on metal, battle cries, and orders to attack began to rise. Flames from smaller campfires grew to unbearable heights. Ir wasn’t long before Marianne could see a few bandits run past her cage in a vain attempt to escape, just before collapsing on the ground in agony, blood pouring from every orifice. 

“Please Lady Iona,” Marianne whispered. “Should I perish here, I beg of you to let my brother and sister be alright.”

“Mari? You there?”

Marianne felt the ground give way as her fear flew higher and more erratic. Slowly glancing around, she tried to make out the outline of her brother in the dark. “Regi? Is that you?”

“Right here.” Slowly, her brother emerged from the dark, removing his face coverings and giving her the brightest smile he could. “L and I came to rescue you. Heard you were in trouble-”

“Regi, get in the cage!”

Regi jumped in shock. “Marianne? What’s wrong-”

“You have to get in here!” she insisted. “Please, Ava told me that if we leave the cage we might die, so you have to get in here. Now!”

“Ava? Wait, you mean Lady Ava?”

“Yes! Now hurry up!” 

“No way.” He grabbed hold of the bars tightly, eyes glowing a soft lavender shine. “I’m getting you out of here. We gotta go now.”

“Dammit Regi, just listen to me!” With a strong arm, she threw open the door of the cage and grabbed her brother by the collar, dragging him in before closing it behind them. 

Just as she did, the lower half of a bandit flew at the cage and hit the bars, sliding down in a depressing pile of flesh and blood. 

Regi looked like he was going to faint. “Oh my god.” 

“Now do you see why?” Marianne returned to her spot, checking to make sure Darnell didn’t get hurt by her sudden movement. “We have to stay in here until L is done.”

“But...but that’s just...”

“I know. I know, Regi.”

The two waited in the cage for hours, curled up together and trying to block out the carnage. Marianne told her brother about the time in the camp so far. Being trapped in this cage. The encounter with Lady Ava. She even handed him the basket of cats to take comfort in. Meatloaf immediately warmed up to him, just as she thought she would. 

Though through all of the time, the siblings kept their eyes averted, trying to ignore the screams of terror and pain. 

It reminded them too much of before. 

Most of the campsite around the cage was burned to ashes now. Anyone who had managed to crawl out of the wreck didn’t last more than a few seconds. As the moon began to set, the screaming eventually started to calm down, until all was silent again. The flames died, and soon the sun slowly began to rise again. 

Marianne didn’t remember falling asleep during the night, but when she awoke, the cage was gone. 

“This isn’t good,” she muttered. 

Regi slowly woke up as well, eyes widening as he saw their protection gone. “Oh no.” 

Both siblings looked up at the sound of footsteps. Lady L, hooded and radiating with malice, slowly started to approach them at a frenzied pace. Bodies around them, long since dead, twitched and writhed on the ground as she got closer. 

“L?” Regi called. “Hey, come on. It’s fine now. We can go. Marianne’s safe. You did good. It’s time to stop, okay?”

Marianne felt her blood run cold. “She can’t speak your language anymore. She talks in the language of dead people now.”

L was only three feet away now, hand outstretched and ready to kill. 

“That’s enough, my darling.”

Marianne gasped when she saw Darnell had moved at a speed impossible for normal humans. Or rather, his body. The flower mark on his face was glowing softly, and his voice was distorted and warped. His body went right up to the necromancer, pulling her into a tender embrace. At first, L struggled against the contact at first, but after a moment, she began to relax, her low growling frustrations fading into a soft hum of content as she wrapped her arms around him. 

“Ava,” she muttered softly. 

Regi looked at Marianne in confusion. “What’s happening?”

Marianne smiled in relief. “Lady Ava interviened. We will not die today.”

L held on tighter, voice cracking slightly. “Ava-”

“Shh, it’s alright now,” Ava said softly. “You did well my dear. You did so very well. You can rest soon, I promise.”

As Regi was about to approach them, Marianne held her arm out, stopping him. “No. Leave them for a moment. Darnell will wake up and be back in control soon enough. Once both L and Darnell are settled, we’ll head back to camp and rest. Then come back here and gather whatever supplies that survived that we can.”

“Alright.” Regi’s ears twitched. “Wait. What’s that sound?”

Marianne strained to listen, her head still spinning from the carnage they’d just seen. Whatever it was, it was soft. Almost like silver bells dancing in the rain. Yet it was sharp, piercing right through her very core like the fiercest of arrows. She found herself drifting toward the sound. 

Cinders and dried blood crunched beneath her feet as she wandered through the remains of the bandit camp. There were still many bodies left that L had yet to ‘prepare’. Marianne tried to pay them no mind. Instead, she focused on the sound. The gleam of old weapons laying on the ground. Broken bows and dented swords. The fire still cooking whatever was meant to be dinner, along with a few other unmentionables. There was much damage to the tents, most of them becoming unusable. For the most part though, the supplies seemed to go untouched. Along with a couple of horse drawn carts. 

Those will be useful, she thought. If we can get them back to the others. These carts are bigger too. More space. We could probably sleep in them too. 

Eventually, Marianne found herself at the center of camp, where the priestesses and their tent were. But there were no priestesses. All of them had seemingly vanished. Cautiously, the healer stepped inside to see where the noise was coming from. 

The interior of the tent was far greater than its exterior, filled with books on shelves and fine furniture. There was a painting of an intimidating deity she’d never encountered before, with pale skin and snow white hair, and eyes red as blood. He stood before a congregation in tears, holding a mighty scepter over his head. Beyond that, however, the tent appeared rather ordinary. Almost like a study. Save for one, small detail. 

And that was the small, crying infant in a crib at the center of an alter. 

“Iona no,” she gasped, hurrying over and wrapping the child in the nearest piece of cloth she could find. She held the child in her arms, lightly rocking him as she hummed a sweet lullaby. The baby was very small, with snow white hair much like the deity in the painting. But as he began to calm down, Marianne could see his eyes were not red. They were green. 

The same emerald shine as Mykolas. 

“Marianne?” Regi entered the tent, slowly followed by L and Darnell, who had finally gone back to normal. “What’s going on-”

Marianne turned around, eyes welling with tears as she looked to Darnell. “What were the priestesses doing in here, Myko? Whose baby is this?”

Darnell’s face softened as he stepped forward in shame. “That’s my nephew, my sister Blanka’s son, Viktor. He’s only a week old.” He lightly ran a hand over the soft white hair. “My sisters were the head priestesses. They believed that they could potentially create a new god, using their magic and a great deal of study. Blanka offered to be the one to carry their ‘divine creation’. Viktor was meant to be just that. But...” He smiled gently. “But that didn’t work. Viktor was born without magic. He’s just a normal boy.”

“He’s an orphan boy now,” L lamented. “None of the priestesses survived my powers.”

Darnell shook his head, gently taking Viktor from Marianne’s arms. “He’s not an orphan. I’ll look after him.” 

“All by yourself?” Regi asked. “Taking care of a child is an enormous task. Are you sure you can do that?”

“I won’t know until I try.” 

Marianne and L exchanged a look, nodding in silent agreement. L took Regi’s hand and lead him out of the tent, while Marianne kept a hand on Darnell’s shoulder, following not far behind. 

“You’ll both be coming with us.”

[chezzkaa]

Cinders - Chapter 35/36

All Chapters

WC: 3853

In a swift and lightning quick motion you’re rocketing back, Jon’s blade skidding across the arm you’d raised in defence; Gareth’s simple smile stretching into a morbid grin. Bruises make promises as your body clatters to the floor, the water clinging to your clothes helping you slide away from the madman stood before you. Despite the Cheshire swirling in your chest you can’t bring yourself to rush forward and attack, instead concern overwhelming all other emotion screaming inside of your head. Determined, you manage to crawl across the ground amidst Gareth’s cold chuckles. Pulling Jon’s face into your hands your fingers curl around the tape and rip it away, his lips left chapped and irritated. You press your forehead against his frantically, his hands finding yours and holding on for dear life. “Oh god, you’re okay,” is all you can quietly choke, eyes brimming with tears that you refuse to shed. Anguish flashes across his face, burrowing into the deep hollows surrounding his uncomfortably bright eyes. “Okay, so about that,” his voice is rough, rasping painfully through his throat, voice box struggling to play a tune with broken strings, “please don’t look down.” “Why?”

Before you can stop yourself your eyes have drifted downwards; raking over his mangled body to see the glass protruding from infected wounds while they ooze puss – deep scars having healed only to be torn open again. It’s not the sight of his hands littered with cigarette burns that sparks the fire in your belly, nor is it the vicious brands singed into his forearms to scrawl derogatory slurs. Instead it’s a sight so familiar you want to scream, want to claw your eyes out so that you could never see such a thing again. But you can’t. Rather you are left to take in the sight of the empty space occupying what should have been his leg; severed at the knee. Your stomach lurches as bile rises, feeling yourself turn green while a painful cold settles over your shoulders and into the tops of your ears. His stump glares back at you, having healed completely with skin folding like a parcel, a clean amputation on the opposite side of your own.

Slowly you stand, the red mist descending over your vision as you stare at his mutilation, his eyes brimming with sorrow. You can’t quieten the screams inside your mind. You can’t force any thought into your mind, plagued by the sight of your brother. You’d been too late – why were you always too late? Every time you’d never been quick enough, no matter how hard you’d tried you couldn’t save them. You’d lost so many. So, so many. But not Jon, you can’t lose him like Amber. You can’t wake up every morning swimming in the blue waters of his eyes, knowing they’ll rush into your throat and clog your nose; drowning you in guilt. You refuse to never utter his name again for fear of pulling apart at the seams. You won’t lose Jon, not like her.

In an instant the Cheshire has you snatching a gun and spinning to point it at Gareth, a bitter snarl curling on your lips. His movements are quicker grabbing the barrel of the gun and twisting you arm. With a small yelp you have no choice but to move with him to save your arm from snapping; vicious growls resonating in your chest. You don’t realise how far you’ve moved until the gun points down at Jon. You watch his head shaking back and forth, barrel pointed at the temple and voice distorted by the blood pounding desperately in your ears. And then you’re struggling, kicking out and twisting best you can to break free, but each move Gareth has foreseen; pulling your strings like a puppet. “You know,” starts Gareth, voice pleasant and conversational as he forces his fingers around your own, trapping them as you spit your snarls; “I heard that if you destroy a certain part of the brain you can kill an immortal. Why don’t we test that out?”

You know as soon as pressure increases on your fingers that you should be closing your eyes to block it out, but you can’t leave Jon alone. Instead you’re staring into his eyes, shining and full of a forgiveness you don’t deserve. He barely manages to speak, “it’s okay” continuing to ring in your ears far longer than the bullet that slides through his skull. A gentle cry is all that’s left inside of you, falling from your lips to join his body collapsing to the ground. His hair traces his descent, pooling around his empty face and shielding the eyes that stare into the nothingness. Quiet. It’s far too quiet. You’re on your knees, metal biting at your skin. Hands reaching out to brush away his wild hair, leaving his eyes to fade before you; the water receding as the tide goes out one last time. You can’t push his name past your lips, the Cheshire already building up her walls and blocking him out. You’re fighting desperately, refusing to let him fall into the same hole you’d buried Amber, nameless for far too long. Instead your shaky hands cradle his head in your lap, stroking back his hair with the same nervous energy you’d seen him do so many times before. You had so much left to talk about, so much left to explore. And now you were holding the world in your hands, feeling hope drain away and pool sticky and red around your feet. No matter how gentle you are the truth shatters against your shoulders, curling over and pressing your forehead against his for a final time; a mourning wail tearing through your ribcage.

“What a shame.” The words lap at the edges of your consciousness like water at the shore front, cold and biting. “It’s always the pretty ones.” You try to block him out and focus on Jon, fighting with the Cheshire for control as she tries to rage against your sorrow. You’re clutching his hand, willing him to squeeze your fingers, chocking on your sobs as they fall limp in your grip, palm slipping away. “He’s not coming back.” You rebel against the statement, body trembling and teeth grinding so hard your jaw was starting to set. You wouldn’t forget the sound of his laughter, nor the way his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. You wouldn’t let his memory be tainted with anger – you just had to hold on. “Just like Amber.”

You can almost see her kneeling with you, a soft smile on her lips as she places a tiny hand into Jon’s remaining. A deep and shaky breath smudges your vision with unshed tears, “look after him, baby.” Your whisper is soft within the pounding rain, hammering heavily against the metal container and weeping over the loss of such a good soul. At your words the weight lifts from your shoulders, leaving you incredibly alone and numb; watching as Amber pulls Jon away in your mind. Eyes closing to allow the tears to trickle.

“You know,” Gareth’s words are clear now, cutting through the tension thick in the air; “I’m pretty sure it was all your fault.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your hiss is sharp and vicious, the Cheshire redirecting her rage towards the chuckling man, and you welcome her like an old friend. “You didn’t think I’d do my research before I got here? I’m offended!” The heavens continue to pour, but the sky is the only one left weeping. Instead darkness throbs in your mind, encasing your heart in ice, impervious to the burning rage flickering within your chest. “Funny thing is, you really should have seen it coming. Did you honestly expect them not to come after you? Of course, she didn’t – see it coming that is. Bullet tore straight through that baby’s eye. Very impressive!” He seems unfazed by your silence, pushing forward with blatant disregard, “what, don’t want to tell me all about your little girl?” Your body stiffens as a response, but not defensively. Rather the Cheshire tenses inside of you, ready to pounce and waiting on your mark. “Oh,” his voice isn’t surprised, despite the nature of his exclamation, “or maybe you can’t. You really are just like me.”

You bark out a laugh, harsh and rough, battering against the walls while you let Jon slide away from your knee. Gareth sucks in a offended breath, venom lacing each word. “Oh, The Cheshire’s too good for people like me. How ignorant. At least I know I’m a fuck up, don’t tell me; the Cheshire’s a coping mechanism? And the Vagabond’s the same, right? Oh please! What fucking losers, you have no idea.” Each dark chuckle lashes at your exposed back, whipping into your core to drag out a concept you’d long since abandoned. The ring of heavy footsteps clomps towards you, shaking beneath your knees until your hairs are standing. A rustle of fabric sees him crouching to your left, a genuine smile teasing beneath the malice. “Do you want to know why the Cheshire’s such a hassle?”

A glint of anger is the only indication he’s able to process before your elbow swings upwards, colliding with a wicked crunch into his windpipe. He hurtles back, stumbling and clutching his throat while he gasps for air. Each cough racks through his airways, eyes narrow and offended as you stand – the Cheshire as strong, dangerous and angry as she’d ever been. “Oh, there she is,” he chokes. Regaining composure he tries to mirror your stance, unable to achieve the same level of intimidation, body flinching with every inhale. “You’ll never be able to get rid of her,” he coughs again to clear his throat, eyes flashing “your body thinks she’s the original copy. With every death you’re brain’s going to reconstruct her, over and over again until there’s nothing left. Same for that frightful Fabio character you like so much. Same as me.” “You going to start making sense any time soon?” you growl, eyebrow rising curiously, almost bored. He chuckles, wincing and slightly ruffled by your cool demeanour. He doesn’t have time to react as you rush at him, a right hook smashing against his jaw before an uppercut catches him in the stomach. Doubling over the back of his head is met with the downwards force of your opposing elbow before a front kick sends him back. He doesn’t retreat, instead steadying before blocking your next punch, forearms clattering together. Another swing, another blinded opportunity. A firm and powerful slam of his palms against your chest, only defended against with your arms forming an ‘x’, has your heels skidding against the floor and sliding back with the force.

“Don’t you remember the explosion, Y/N?” Though his words are strained from exertion they send a hungry fire through your mind. You can’t see, trapped in the Greek humidity as the blast rolls towards you, a glowing orange chasing through the cool marble hallways. Taking advantage he pulls out Jon’s blade, swinging the hilt upwards into your gut and knocking you to your knees. His next move brings around a punch and has you bouncing into a crouch, cybernetic sweeping out to topple his balance. In an arc he falls and releases the weapon, legs lifting above his head as it smashes against the ground, container shaking. From your crouch you leap over his still falling body, fingers snatching his foot. The sound of his face turning to grind across the floor rattles satisfyingly through you, continuing to flip until his body passes over your own to smash into the opposite wall. The impact is intense, the crate you occupy shuddering unsteadily while he falls to his knees. Chuckling and shaking to his feet he brushes the dust away from his jeans, face displeased by the state of his outfit. “So you don’t remember then,” he smiles, conversational despite the blood tracing the shape of his neck and collar bone, seeping into his shirt. “How very interesting. Does that mean the nail bomb doesn’t ring any bells, either?”

You aren’t giving him the courtesy of listening to his taunts while your head and face prickle painfully in the memory, instead charging forward to collect Jon’s blade from the floor; bringing it up in a smooth swing to slice at his face. Instead he dodges, weaving away and digging and elbow into the back of your neck, muscle screaming in pain. “Oh, you guys were such a mess. You and Ryan, I mean.” His teasing does nothing, but the second elbow that comes down is anticipated. Catching it in your hands you twist into his back, hearing the skin tear and pop as you push it too far, blood spurting through his scream. A swift kick forces him onto his front, Gareth clutching at his right arm, limp and useless. “That’s not fair, we were about to get to the brain and nails bit.”

Rolling to his feet his back faces you for a moment, tempting your charge. You lunge forward; face searing from the impact of his powerful backhand. Your body ricochets against the wall, using the surface as leverage to fling upwards and tear a pipe from the roof; bringing it down with a crack. He bellows, stumbling back and clawing at his jaw, stray teeth tumbling to pitter against the floor. With a start you push forward, smashing the pipe into his kneecap, his buckling bringing his head down and into your next upwards golf swing. Falling backwards he snatches at the hem of your shirt, dragging you close before his hands come around your ears in a sharp clap. Then the world is ringing, sound searing through your head until the momentum carrying him back brings his foot up, front kicking you away. The sickening crunch of your ribs fracturing beneath his shoe cracks with the thunder rolling above you, leaving you breathless and on your hands and knees; arm curling around your side.

Somehow he manages to pull himself up; regarding you with a rage you hadn’t seen in him before. It was obvious that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice, unaware of your proximity to the closest blade and powering on with his narrative. “You know, I had the same thing happen to me when dear ol’ Geoffrey decided to blow me up. Funny what shrapnel on the brain will do to an immortal. Nails are worse, I’ll admit. You one-up me on that. Still, that much metal shooting through a person’s hippocampus and frontal lobe can really change your outlook on life. Your personality, you know?” He lurches towards you, right arm hanging far lower and fingers brushing the bottom of his knee; swinging sickeningly as he approaches. A smile twists across his lips as he takes the upper hand, watching you squirm to keep you ribs in place long enough for them to heal into fractures and keep from puncturing your lungs. You blink hard and frantically, trying to clear the blood that had traced to your eye from the cut above your eyebrow, smudging your vision red.

“A damaged brain doesn’t have much to work with, but it does its best. Goes with the stronger traits and builds from there. Problem is,” he picks up the pipe you’d dropped, spinning it playfully, “emotions can make the whole process a little messy. Still, immortality’s a stubborn thing. If all it’s got is anger and murderous intentions, hell; what else does it have to reconstruct?” He kneels down beside you, victorious and beaming “and it’s just a never ending cycle. Each death brings with it more anger, and further solidifies that personality until you aren’t you anymore. You’re the Cheshire. Just a burning pit of pointless, misdirected rage.” And then you feel his hand smoothing back your hair comfortingly, his tone shifting to a deep, resonating sadness and understanding. “Welcome to the club.”

You swing the blade you’d managed to work your way upwards, catching him off guard and slicing away what was left of his arm. His guttural screams are thick and wet as blood gushes from the wound, arm falling to the floor and rolling back and forth. You stand despite your aching ribs, the movement shifting what felt like sand beneath your skin. And then you buckle into a duck, an explosion rocking the stack of containers you were in and tearing away the walls and roof; remains of the structure rattling in the rind whipping around you.

The outside battle rages on, Mama Bear shooting past in a lone jet as Michael retakes the perimeter on his own, the jovial Brit unheard within the chaos. Rain pelts down, stinging your open wounds and blinding your vision; Gareth clutching his stump in disbelief and agony. “You fucking bitch!” he spits through his teeth, trying to pull himself up and collapsing, “all you’ve done is get in the fucking way!” You’re advancing on him, each step ringing out powerfully, cracks of light tracing the sky above. “All I wanted to do,” he manages to regain his balance, leaning into his stance, “was brutally murder Geoff and everyone he’s ever loved. He deserves, you know that! I’m as broken as you are, why don’t you understand?!”

He shrieks as you crouch, launching towards him and forcing his back against the remaining section of wall, ribs aching beneath your touch. With a shudder the structure strips away, taking you with it and leaving you both to plummet towards the ground unbelievably far away. You plant your feet and push up off his falling body, rocketing him quicker towards the earth as you turn in the air to dive after him; blade ready. Your momentum drives you through the space, cutting through the air and then his elbow, his shrieks filling your ears as you roll onto the ground, body smashing beside you.

You’re breathing heavily, air rasping through your raw airways and legs shaking from the impact. You can barely register the mayhem unfolding around you, the smell of burning bodies washing away with the rain. The battle is quietening, at least. No longer are men streaming in, instead they litter the passageways. Though the sound of gunfire persists, the urgency that had rattled between the containers and into the bones of your crew had settled into a slow hum. The trembling sounds escaping Gareth’s broken body, however, have no problem catching your attention. Straightening up you pass your gaze over Ryan, his mask in hand and watching you with glittering eyes. Hair whips around his face, blond tendrils plastered to his face and tracing the sharp structure of his jaw. You can’t make out the emotion buried within those dark circles, but at this point you don’t care. All that matters is the poor excuse for a human being at your feet, spitting insults into the stream of his own blood.

Your back faces Ryan, willing him to look away while you let the Cheshire out to play without her chains, muscles tense and restless. It doesn’t take long until you’re standing above him, feet either side of his hips and face a vicious mask carved with gold shimmer and splatters as black as soot. The tightness in your chest doesn’t ease, instead growing increasingly frantic as he squirms, trying to drag what remains of his body away. “What are you gonna do, kill me?” he yells to the sky, his final triumph “I’m immortal!” You don’t respond, instead bringing the blade down on his other shoulder, slicing the skin and smashing through the bone, his kegs kicking out and knocking your knees as he screams. You stay steady, breathing hard amidst your crew’s destruction as it slowly dies down.

You’re floating, out of control as you stare murderously down at the man between your feet. Ryan’s face creases in worry at your anger, body running cold as he bellows at anyone who’ll listen to him – ordering someone towards the crate you had fallen from. At his instructions Michael is rushing up the side of the stack, Ryan watching with panic and a dropping stomach as Michael’s broken wail tears through the shipyard at the sight of Jon. You feel the blade lift in your hands, see the gleam of metal shift as you ready for the next strike, but cannot concentrate through the rage poisoning your mind. With a final smile Gareth watches the Cheshire; dangerous, imposing, and in complete control. “You’ll never be more than your anger.” “You’re wrong.”

And then you’re thrusting down, knees buckling to carry to forward to spear the blade through his skull. The bone cracks and splits, skin peeling back and curling while you lean in the hilt, watching the life drain from his smirk. Adrenaline continues to course through your veins, numbing you to the blood loss and dizziness tugging at your mind. Yanking away the skull lets off a breath as the vacuum is released; before your screams claw out of your throat and just don’t stop. Each slash brings the sharp edge across his face, smashing his face to pieces until the features merge. Around you the sound of Ryan and Ray clearing out the remaining men barely registers, instead you don’t break free of your frenzy until a bloody pulp throbs into submission beneath you. But even then your body won’t respond, throat running raw as screams continue and his chest splits open. You discard the blade, hands coming down to claw at his flesh and force through to his rib cage, a swift punch cracking free the bone to open the lungs. There’s no more sound, ears ringing into silence while your voice escapes you, whimpering into Gareth’s chest cavity and pulling out the organs to hurling them away.

You don’t notice Ryan until his hands are tugging you away, arms vices around you to force you to still. The Cheshire thrashes within you, desperate to maim what was left until he had never existed. Wipe the world clean of his hatred, of every trace. You knew that the vain hope was useless, knew that the destruction of all he was would never bring back Jon; but you had to try. Damn it, you had to try. But you can’t, instead Ryan’s kneeling with you, your legs kicking while you try to tear free. You had to get back to the corpse, had to tatter everything so that there was no way he would be granted life after taking one so important. Jon deserved better than this, Jon was better than this.

The soft humming doesn’t register immediately, rather nibbling at your raging insanity while Ryan presses his face into the curve of your neck. His arms are still strong around you, but not restraining. Their comfort slows your thrashes, chest heaving until his hums are all you hear. And then you go slack, collapsing into his gasp and letting him hold you as he world comes crashing down against your battered and bruised heart.

[clnriswood]

Kara x Mon-El

VALOR

a/n: I never write stuff for Karamel, or stuff that’s not x reader, but I just really wanted to do this so I hope you like this mess.

x

“How’s it look?” Alex’s voice came crisp through Kara’s earpiece.

“So far so good,” she breathed quietly, her bright red boots clacking against the crumbled concrete floor.

She’d been sent over to the abandoned looking warehouse when pings had rung into the DEO system warning them of an alien who needed aid in the location. Though they didn’t know what they were up against, Kara felt ready, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, cape swaying gently to the breeze that wafted through holes in the walls.

“Why is there nothing here?” Kara asked, voice lowering with worry.

The silence rang in her eardrums, a faint whirring emitting from a while away.

“Oh my god,” Alex’s voice crackled faintly, “It’s a trap. Kara, get ou-”

Suddenly, a huge force, one strong enough to even cause the girl of steel pain, went slamming into Kara’s front. She was propelled back, legs dangling in the air, breath knocked from her system, her blonde curls tangling around her face. She went back first into the wall, letting out a cry of pain, and raising her blue eyes to the shadow that loomed over her. She only saw glimpses; long hair, pale skin, glinting armor, a flowing cape.

“Who are you?” Kara gaped, blinking through bleary vision.

“You made me,” the voice, a female’s, responded.

Kara bent forward, eyes blazing a vibrant aqua color as she fired two lazer bolts from her eyes, sending a searing burn into her new enemy.

The woman released a cry and swung out a sword that hit Kara square in the jaw and made her crumble back to the ground. Kara grabbed at her face as she bounded up and dove through the air, sending a punch at the person’s stomach, which didn’t seem to affect them much. The woman sent a fist at Kara, who ducked beneath her arm with a short gasp of air. Kara reeles back, releasing a streaming white puff of air that froze over and slowed the alien creature.

“You’re strong, but not as strong as me,” Kara growled.

“Really? Think again,” the voice rasped.

Kara heard Alex’s voice distantly cry out as a trickle of kryptonite entered her system, the captor’s hand on Kara’s throat as she crumbled in her arms with a low groan.

“Kryptonite,” she wheezed, “how did you know?”

“Like I said, you made me.”

Kara toppled onto the concrete, chest heaving, sprawled like a child, “w-what?”

“Your people did this to me,” the voice rang, “tell me how, tell my why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

“I’M A WORLDKILLER AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

The face leaned over her, features bent into a cold sneer, the girl both beautiful and terrifying.

“Who are you?” Kara said again.

“Reign.”

Kara blinked, too weak to move properly.

Three more shadowy figures appeared in a ring behind Reign, poised as they watched Kara struggle under the worldkiller.

“Give me answers,” she demanded.

“I don’t have an-”

Reign slammed a fist into Kara’s jaw, making her scream out in anguish, Alex’s staticy voice crackling out.

“Shame, Supergirl. Looks like you have to die today.”

A fist to the stomach, another to the face, a third in the ribs.

Kara couldn’t think, her vision fogging over as the kryptonite weakened her further.

Reign withdrew a glimmering pointed sword, her hair swinging as she raised it above Supergirl with a sneer, “I hope it hurts.”

A faint crash came from behind them, and Reign whipped her head to the side in alarm. The rumble grew louder, and suddenly the ceiling split open, a figure coming crashing to the ground. One of the three aliens she’d brought with her went soaring across the room and smacking into the wall, instantly going out cold and collapsing to the concrete. Another raised their sword, but it was swung from their grip, and a fist went to their jaw, a knee to their stomach, and a smack of their sword to the head, and they too, passed out. The third worldkiller threw out a fist, which hit the unknown man but did nothing to hurt them, and instead they picked up the vicious woman and sent her through the roof, and so the savior momentarily vanished, a loud smack emitting from outside. And then he was back, sinking through the gaping hole in the roof, floor cracking under his boots when he landed.

This all happened in a matter of seconds. One moment, the three worldkillers stood together behind their leader, and the next, with a whir of a blue cape, they were defeated. Reign, her sword still raised, stood in shock as her eyes flickered over the person in front of her. Kara, still pinned beneath her, was too weak to raise her head from the ground and see who it was, but she didn’t have to, because the next instant, Reign went pummeling across the room. The man had thrown her with such force that her skull slamming into the wall was almost enough to take her out. Reign let out a scream of rage as she stood, throwing out a punch which the figure caught in his hand and promptly used to twist her wrist so as to flip her to the floor. Reign kneed him in the chest, and he responded with fists to her jaw over and over and over again, until she was a gaping and beaten down mess beneath his superhuman grip. When she still tried to fight back, he hoisted her by her neck and did a three sixty spin as he flew into the air and threw her body so hard into the ground that the floor split wide open, and she sunk deep into the black hole in the earth with a faint howl. She wasn’t dead and he knew it, but she was taken care of for now.

The man turned on his heel, blue boots sending dust flying as he approached the beat down Kryptonian woman. She was pretty much passed out, honey colored curls framing her face, her eyes closed, but she was as beautiful as ever. He knelt down with a long and shallow breath, fingers trembling as he extended a hand to her face, and ever so gently, his palm went to her skin and cupped at her right cheek. When she twitched, he felt his heart leap, but her hand snapped up and wrapped gently around his wrist, thumb brushing over his arm as she snuggled into his palm and breathed in his scent, making his gaze soften with longing. He took in a shaky breath, and withdrew in a second when he saw her blue eyes start to blink open. Kara rubbed at her face and groaned softly as she stood in confusion, the last couple minutes being a hazy blur to her. The room looked empty, yet she could sense a presence. Her eyebrows furrowed as she registered a tingling in her cheek, and she raised her fingertips gently to the spot where she could have sworn someone’s hand had been a moment ago. She pondered the feeling of those slender fingers with contemplation, familiar and warm on her flesh, and the unforgettable scent of her home she’d breathed in so long ago. Then, at once, her heart dropped in her chest, hand falling to her side as her eyes went flickering up, and mouth dropping with a faint pang of realization in her heart. She turned, just in time to see a blur of red and blue shoot through the ceiling, and she followed in with a pounding heart.

He was in the air, hovering in the sky against the canvas of white clouds and fading blue sky, his back turned. He wore a tight red suit, blue cape billowing in the wind, head tilted away from her.

“I know who you are,” she breathed, her voice cracking as tears welled up in her eyes. They were far from the ground now, and he hovered slightly above her. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew.

Her whole inside felt on fire, a churning in her stomach as her tears went sliding across her cheekbones. She could feel it in her heart, could feel him.

“Turn around, Mon-El.”

So he did.

He spun in the air, sun glinting against his face like a halo of warmth around him. His blue eyes were determined but sad, his jaw set with worry, hands balled at his sides. He looked different than the last time they’d held each other, stronger. His defined muscles rippled against the fabric against his crimson suit, and the way he held himself showed a newfound strength. His cape lapped around his legs, brown locks pushed atop his forehead, eyes flickering over Kara’s tear stained face.

“Kara-” he started softly.

The next second, he was thrown back into the air as Kara barreled into his front, soaring into his arms and grabbing at his collar as her lips attached harshly to his. Mon-El’s arms swung out in surprise as they plummeted through the sky, hair whipping in the wind, before doing little twirls as they sunk through the air, his hands falling to her waist as they molded into each other. They were still flying, sinking against the pastel blue sky and entangled in one another, months of pent up longing and heartache poured into their kiss. They slowed, coming to a stop as Kara detached herself from him and rested her nose to his like they always used to do. She had no idea what to say, there were so many questions and worries bottled up within her, but for now they didn’t matter, because she had him, and he had her.

She smiled.

He smiled.