#then the wounds re-opened and he saw his enemy

[hydrangeawrites]

Was thinking about Takasugi seeing Gintoki again for the first time and all the emotional turmoil that must have come with it like "He's alive." "It's been so long." "He looks taller." "What the hell is he wearing." "How could he move on." "How dare he move on." "I can finally end everything." "I can finally kill him end him." "He's alive." "He's alive."

"Gintoki is alive."

[starry-bi-sky]

Another small Clone^2 thought

Danny's hands are scarred.

Really, every part of him is. His arms, his legs, his torso. All of them littered in nicks and scratches and scabs that he's picked at over, and over, and over again. And then bigger ones, jagged scars from debris stabbing at him, and burns of ectoplasm blasts that melted through his regular clothes and hit his skin.

The one thing that never really got scarred were his hands. They were callused, of course, from all his climbing, and hitting, and hanging on for dear life to things. But never really scarred, not really. Maybe he just got lucky, maybe it was the fact that he wore gloves and they leather, and leather is harder to get through than cotton. Maybe both.

But, well, that's no longer case. But the scars on his hands take place on his palms. Two clean, thick lines going diagonally over his palms. Not from any enemy he's ever faced, but proof of his meeting with the little boy sitting between his knees, running his tiny fingers over those same scars.

Damian, his little brother. He scarred them, with that katana of his.

First when they first met, when Damian called him an imposter and proceeded to attack him. It was really only from Danny's exposure to the quick movements of ghosts that kept him from getting shish-kabob'd by Damian's sword.

And it was only because he was an idiot, and his brain was not faster than those reflexes that he kept grabbing the blade with his hands. That it kept cutting into that leather until it started cutting skin.

And then numerous times over on those rocky first months of Damian staying with him, when he didn't know any English, and Danny didn't know any Arabic. When Danny would piss him off or go looking for him when he ran off, he would have to grab his katana while Damian was swinging it at him.

His hands wouldn't heal for months because of it. The wounds kept being re-opened. Kept bleeding. Kept hurting. Until they slowly stopped hurting, and he knew that it wasn't a good thing.

Danny's parents were very upset when they saw his hands. It was hard to lie about where he got them - the lines are too clean, too consistent, to have been accidents. Danny didn't know how to lie and say it wasn't because of Damian. That it wasn't his katana that they knew nothing about that was stained with his blood.

He found a way to anyways, because he thought Damian was worth it at the time. He was a kid. He was scared. He was hurting other people and that's all he was ever taught to do.

So Danny thought a little pain was worth it.

(He still does.)

Oh, fun fact. There are three nerves in the human hand. the radial nerve, the median nerve, and the ulnar nerve. From what he could find on it, the ulnar nerve traveled up into the pinky and the ring finger, the median went through the middle of the palm and the ring, the middle, and the index, and the radial nerve went into the thumb and the index.

Fun fact, did you know consistent (or deep enough) lacerations to the palm could end up cutting a nerve? And that such lacerations can cause numbness, loss of feeling, and weakness in the hand, fingers, and thumb?

Here's a final fun fact: Danny had to go to physical therapy after his hands finally began to heal. Because Damian's katana had cut his radial nerve. There are seventeen thousands touch receptors in the hand, Danny's lost some of those.

His hands still hurt when he closes and opens them, the scarring pinches a little. He doesn't know why but his fingers hurt now when its too humid or too cold, or when its about to rain. It sucks. It's worth it.

He lied about before; here's the final fun fact:

There is a deeply, deeply, guilty look on Damian's face as he runs his little hands over Danny's scarred palms, carefully closing and opening his fingers in a slow rendition of his physical therapy workouts.

(Because even if it's ended, he still has to do them. Pain doesn't go away even if it's healed.)

"I'm sorry." Damian says in a meek, thick voice. He's said it before, when they've done this before at all hours of the day. Danny's wondering if Damian does it on purpose - hurt himself with this, that is. Not apologize. "I hurt you."

Danny sighs, deeply, and leans forward to press his face into his little brother's hair. "It's okay." He mutters, again. And he'll say it again, and again, and again, until Damian finally believes him. "I'm not mad."

"I am." Damian insists, his voice wobbles. "I hurt you, Danny."

"And I say it's okay that you did, Damian." Danny repeats, and wraps an arm around Damian's middle to sit him on his leg. Damian doesn't look at him, just curls his fingers around Danny's other hand and looks at the scar there. "Like I said, I'm not mad. I would do it again."

"Do not."

So, Danny's hands are scarred.

[thordottir45]

The Outlaw's Spirit

After a reveal gone wrong, whether intentional or not, Danny books it. Sam and Tucker have to stay behind in Amity to prevent Maddie, Jack, and the GIW from following their best friend. The trio is 16~17 or so at this point.

Jazz, being the best big sis that she is, has been taking college classes online to protect Danny. She helps the two destroy the Drs. Fenton lab before grabbing her go bag and getting out of there. She plans to start anew in a different city so that Danny can eventually join her. She's thinking Gotham, with the ambient ectoplasm, and high crime rates, it'll feel more like home than Star City, or Metropolis.

Danny, meanwhile, keeps running. He comes across a high-tech jet and hides in it, pulling a stowaway.

This jet is a Batplane, but is currently being used by The Outlaws for a mission.

Danny's ghost sense has no idea about how to react to Jason, so it causes him to cough, revealing his location to the group.

"B." Artemis instructs Bizarro with his nickname.

Bizarro moves in slowly, while Jason pulls out his guns, and Artemis her sword. Bizarro opens wherever Danny is hiding, revealing his black hair and blue eyes of his human form. Seeing the shaking teen, B gently pulls him out and 'restrains' him via hug.

Danny is freaking out at the sight of these out-of-the-norm people, and his ghost sense is triggering a coughing fit, aggravating whatever wounds he may have.

"One of your brothers?" Artemis asks Jason, despite keeping her guard up.

"Not that I know. What are you doing in here, kid?" Jason lowes his guns, but doesn't holster them, wanting to keep them in hand in case this kid is an enemy.

Danny, coughing, takes a closer look at the three surrounding him.

"Red Hood? Artemis of the Bana-Mighdall? Bizarro? What? Huh?!"

"Worry, we hurt you." Bizarro says soothingly.

Tensing, Danny prepares to use his powers, but Artemis explains what Bizarro means before he does.

"What are you doing in here, kid? You're hurt." Jason reiterates before noticing just how the boy is breathing other than his coughing fits.

Feeling safer with these three than he had with his parents in a long time, and with them all not being entirely human themselves, Danny is willing to explain some things, but not everything.

"My parents, they're scientists, they found out that I'm not entirely human... I had to run. I saw this jet, and it was a chance for me to get further away from them before they track me down."

"They can track you?" Artemis asks while Bizarro releases Danny, setting the teen down on a bench. Jason pulls out a med kit and sets it down next to Danny.

Jason then gets the Batplane into the air while the other Outlaws get to know the stowaway more.

Jason's inner bat wants to do so much research that he resembles the Replacement more than himself, but more of him sees himself in the kid and, as much as he loathes to admit it, pull a Bruce to take care of the much-too-thin teen.

Setting the autopilot to Gotham, Jason re-joins the discussion, noting that the kid's coughs get worse the closer he gets. Odd.

Bizarro and the teen have bonded over video games and movies, even with Bizarro's speech mannerisms.

Artemis, on the other hand, is patching the boy up, not offering much to the conversation other than clearing some things up for B.

"Course's set for Gotham. Figure we'll want Alfie to get some proper food in ya. Now, can you explain all the coughing?" Jason plops down across from the teen, keeping some distance to not make the coughing worse if his hunch is right.

Danny explains in the broadest terms for his ghost sense, that it can tell when people have died, and that Red Hood didn't come back right.

Tense, Jason's vision bleeds into green as he questions, "How?"

"I can tell because I didn't come back right, either..." Danny then tries to explain ectoplasm as glowing green goo, causing Jason to tense even more.

"Lazarus Waters."

"What?"

Taking off his helmet, the lenses of Jason's domino are glowing, "Lazarus Waters. They threw me in mostly dead, and I came out mostly alive."

"That shouldn't..." Danny tilts his head, thinking of the lessons from Frostbite on the nature of ectoplasm and what happens when it gets corrupted. All part of his training for taking the throne. "Huh. Sounds like you got a batch of the more corrupted stuff. With pure ectoplasm, it would bring you back fully, with few side effects."

"Ectoplasm?" Bizarro asks from Danny's right.

Explaining in more detail, since Red Hood is some sort of subject of his and needs help, time passes and soon the autopilot is landing the jet.

"Come on, kid. Let's get some food in you, then we can see what to do about the Lazarus Waters." Jason puts a hand on the door to the Batplane, opening it to reveal the Batcave.

Just something that was floating around in my head. Not sure if I'll continue it, it's unlikely.

[cherry-coloureddfunk]

if i should think of love, i think of you, kylo ren

Kylo blinked his eyes blearily to get the look of exhaustion out of them. He did a quick double take, his eyes wild with the hope that you were still in his arms. His lips curved into a sloppy grin as he inched toward you. Every time you breathed, he observed the motion of your chest. Just like this, you were very stunning. So beautiful and calm in his once discarded black T-shirt from yesterday night's activities. He sighed with relief. He hadn't yet had to wake up for the day, as he knew his automatic curtains had been programmed to open when it was time.

You were snuggled up against him, and he stifled a groan as his hands traced the shape of your body. His index finger slid down from your shoulder, around your waist, and onto your exposed thigh. You awoke slightly, and Kylo put his hand on top of your waist, obviously feeling awful for waking you up. You mumbled something incoherent that made Kylo snicker behind your back. He looked at your face intently, as if attempting to imprint the image on his mind permanently. It was at moments like these he was the happiest. 

If he was being honest, he couldn't remember a time when he felt so happy, so content;

So whole.

You were the source for it all. You kissed the blood and pain away from his wounds and treated him with the kind of tenderness and concern he had never experienced before. Kylo had never felt anything like this for anybody before you, and it was a lot to take in.

At times it was too much. 

He questioned whether or not he was worthy of you. More and more, as he contemplated it, a shadowy feeling began to settle over his subconscious. Why could an angel like you be so patient and kind towards him to the point it made his chest hurt? Why would someone like you love someone like him who’s done the atrocities he had? Kylo realized the risks involved. Since he was so widely reviled, it was obvious that he would have made enemies if he had ever let himself fall in love. Many people had the impression that Kylo Ren was a merciless tyrant who would eliminate any threat to his reign. Yet you never once made him feel like an emperor. He felt most like Ben with you. Though he despised and even detested the moniker, whenever you were in his immediate vicinity, he became euphoric and carefree, just as he had been as a child. Someone being that close to him was obviously risky. When he initially attempted to drive you away, he failed miserably because, as he'd suspected all along, he just couldn't deny you. The persistent negative thoughts in his mind kept him on edge. Holding you tightly, as if he thought you'd slip away somehow.

He remembered the day he’d done the unthinkable, killed his father. 

He remembered what you did for him.

You had made yourself comfortable on the black velcro sofa in the far corner of Kylo's living quarters. You hung your feet over the sofa and put a hand on the hard, dark ground. Black and white were the predominant colors of Kylo's room, creating a consistent pattern. You weren't as bored when Kylo was out discovering new worlds and doing first-order responsibilities, thanks to the data pad he gave you. Using the holonet, you tuned in to your favorite radio station, which played reports on the many exciting activities and breathtaking vistas to see on the many worlds. After learning that Kylo was born on Chandrila, you kept re-watching an episode in which the planet was discussed. He's always wanted to take you on a getaway, as he thought it would be amazing to see Hanna City with you by his side. If you went on a trip with him, he would waste all of his money on high-end eateries and tourist attractions.

All for you. 

The blast door to the chamber opened, and you put away your data pad as you saw a towering, recognizable figure appear in the opening. As you heard his booming entrance, you couldn't help but crack a grin. You awaited Kylo's return from work so that he could give you the kiss he always gave you. At this stage, it had become routine. But you frowned when the only sensation was the wind from his quick departure.

You glanced over at him, his massive figure bent over the foot of the king-size bed where the two of you spent your most intimate moments together. You sprang to your feet and walked over to lay a hand on his shoulder, comforting him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, your voice dripping with concern, as you rubbed up and down his back. 

“I did it.” A modulator in his still-on helmet caused his voice to lower by many octaves. The irregular rhythm of his breathing within the helmet made you wrinkle your brows.

“Did what?” You asked, not having a clue as to what he was referring to. You waited for him to answer, wanting to help him with whatever he was going through. You hated to see him so distraught. 

“I killed him.” He replied. Despite the modulator, you heard the crack in his voice filled with pain and regret. He shook his head frantically, “I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.”

“What… Kylo, who did you kill?” You asked quietly, fear evident in your voice— not fearful of Kylo himself but what could happen to him because of who he killed. You knew many people didn’t like him but couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Ever. You stayed quiet, hoping he would fill the silence and tell you what happened. 

Kylo must’ve noticed your tone, “I didn’t mean…” You paused for a second to look him in the eye. You could see the tears on his face and the glistening in his eyes. His broad mouth scrunched into an agonizing grimace. You lifted a hand to cup his face as you gasped. When you touched him, he almost immediately relaxed; clearly, he needed this. You were essential to him. With his eyes closed, he let himself be comforted by your touch as more tears ran down his cheeks. You slid your finger behind his neck and gently tugged, allowing him to lay his face on your shirt.

“I killed my father.” he let out meekly, partly muffled by your shirt in his face. You felt his tears dampening the material. You froze at the information, not really knowing how to process it. Kylo seldom ever talked about his father in a positive light, but when he did, it was usually memories from his childhood. The fact you’d never get to meet the father of the man you were in love with did make you a little sad. When you didn’t respond for a few minutes, kylo began to become frantic. 

“But this doesn’t change your mind, right— you still love me? Right? I love you— Please… Please don’t leave me.” He choked in between sobs, gripping at the material of your shirt, panicking, spewing out incoherent sentences, “Say you love me— please, star. I need you… so so much.” His voice broke entirely as his voice was barely above a whisper towards the end of the sentence. 

“I love you, Ky.” You spoke immediately, not wanting to scare him any further, “I always have, and I always will.”

“Really?” He uttered, looking up at you, glassy eyes filled with hope, “… you’re not going to leave?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You carded your fingers through his hair, moving so you could now sit on his lap. You grabbed his hand, placing little kisses on each of his knuckles, much like he’d always do for you when you were upset, “Isn’t that what an empress does for her emperor?” 

He smiled at that for a split second, which then turned into a frown. He ran his fingers over your thigh, taking a minute to try and steady his breathing, “I just thought that if I’d done it, snoke would be proud, and it would show that I’m no longer— tempted.”

You immediately understood. Sometimes when you two would lay in bed, Kylo would confess things to you that he wouldn’t dare tell anyone else. He confided in you, and you loved him for it. You’d listen for hours and hours as he’d open up to you. One night, in particular, stood out when Kylo began to question his loyalty to the first order. He would always find himself playing with the ends of your hair and stroking your cheek, thinking out loud; 

 “What if this isn’t worth it in the end?” 

Kylo was obviously not wicked in your eyes. Maybe it was because you saw the side of him that he tried so hard to keep hidden from everyone else. Even though Kylo had a tough demeanor, he was really a softie and a very kind person on the inside. This proved without a reasonable doubt that he had succumbed to the allure of the Force's light side. He apparently believed that murdering his father would further solidify his descent into evil, yet the reverse was true. Others saw him as a shell of the man he used to be; he appeared so shattered.

For you, though, it was the complete opposite. You got the impression that Kylo did what he did because he wanted to make a statement, to prove everyone wrong and achieve what they said he couldn't do in the first place. This, along with snoke's encouragement, led to Kylo's actions, and they couldn't be undone. Time and time again, you assured Kylo that you would stand by his side no matter what battle he decided to fight. 

If he wanted to watch the world burn, you’d burn it with him. 

”I shouldn’t have done it.” Kylo muttered, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you stroked his hair lovingly. 

“I know, I know.” You lift his face from its place on your neck, placing soft kisses all over his jaw.

The whole night was spent with you whispering comforting words into his ear, staying up to make sure he eventually fell asleep in your arms.

Kylo’s love for you just blossomed even more, that night, though he wasn’t sure that was even possible. 

You never judged him for that night. You had seen the most vulnerable parts of him that he knew no one else would ever get to see ever again, and you didn’t have a single negative thing to say about him– about what he did. He knew he deserved to suffer for what he did, and he knew that much was coming but what he didn't get was why you stuck right next to him. 

Even if you had the slightest intention of leaving, he knew you would have left long ago. He's given you a lot of chances, and the stars know it. This was the first time he'd ever put his confidence in someone and not feel any remorse for it. Kylo sighed weakly as a wave of emotions crashed over him.

What were you doing to him? 

When Kylo felt you shift against him, he froze; his eyes met yours with devotion and affection. Your eyes flew awake, and you stopped looking around as your gaze fell upon Kylo. As you blinked away the sleep from your eyes, a grin crossed your face.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He responded, giving a breathy chuckle. 

You felt your cheeks burn up, tucking your face into the crook of Kylo’s neck. “What’re you doing up?” 

Kylo chuckled at that. You've always had such a reserved personality. When it came to anybody else, he would have found it irritating, but he thought it was cute when it was you.

“Just thinking. Go back to sleep, my love.” He snuggled up to you, kissing the top of your head gently.

“Are you going to go to sleep?” You asked while removing your head from his neck and placing it on the pillow so that you could face him.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” He questioned in a tone that suggested mild amusement; he clearly enjoyed making you squirm with his questions.

“Yes.” In a voice just barely softer than a whisper, you replied. You and Kylo had been dating for a while, but you were still too embarrassed to tell him what you really wanted. And this was especially true when all you wanted was his love and attention, or even just to cuddle up with him. But he would give you everything and so much more. You didn’t have to ask.

He smiled, “Okay, let's go to sleep, my love.” 

“Okay, goodnight Ky.” you snuggled up closer to him, your half-asleep state making you semi-aware of what you were saying. 

You two only said "I love you" when it really counted, never on arbitrary days like today. You and Kylo obviously placed a high value on the emotive connotations of the term. The wordless admittance was sufficient to convey the sentiments you both carried for one another, and it was enough for the two of you, as it was worth a thousand "I love yous" in both of your eyes.

Kylo and you fell asleep in one other's arms, your legs entwined, your breaths steady, and your hearts ultimately beating in unison.

If Kylo had to think of love;

He’d think of you.

[eunoiaaaivy]

๑ INVISIBLE STRING...

tw: bad writing, idk how i made this, fem!reader, a bit of angst, blood, mentions of enemies to lovers trope, a bit of flashbacks, hyperventilation, a bit suggestive, a bit of fluff at the end

a/n: this was another self-indulgent fic but pls excuse my poor writing. 😭

the moon shimmers down on him, the spotlight as the wind flies along his cape. his insomnia chasing him as the cold breeze continued to glide along the cold night. the sound of sea, night crickets and the buzzing filled his ears as the memories accompany him.

the echos of laughter, the laugh of his innocent days, the warmth of the touch he never wants to forget- sasuke remembers it all.

the bright smile, the warm touch, the lingering gazes, the small fights and the pouting; he could remember it all, the days where everything wasn't tormenting him.

the guilt ran free in sasuke's blood, the realization of everything as he drowns these voices in his head "you don't deserve her."

yet he knew that wasn't true. "you've hurted her." the demon in his head whisper's as he holds a frame, gazing at it as if it was going to disappear anytime. the beauty and essence of your face was all he saw, making him smile small.

"you lost her." that voice whispered in his head again, this time hitting a bullet. sasuke's smile falters a bit, like a child who realizes life. "you gave her pain." continued the demon running around his head, feeding his turmoil and starting the killing of happiness.

sasuke slowly puts the frame down, a gloved hand clutching his head as he tried to drown this stupid voice in his head. breathing ragged, forehead dripping with cold sweat as he fights his inner demons, he felt like he was fighting for his dear life.

it felt like one of those wounds he could never close, bleeding and filled with pain as the voice whispers on. "stop this silliness. you can't be with someone you've scarred."

"stop! stop it!" he whispers to himself, no sigh of relief left his mouth as he tries to kill this demon of his. sasuke could still hear the way it taunted- tattering his heart as his memories went back to a series of reverie.

the demon stops, yet he feels like his gut is being re-arranged as the scene of him- in his younger days- driving a chidori near your neck, where your jugular could be. sasuke can still remember that small smile you had. blood splurged on his hand, eyes widened with the sharingan activated and the sensation all so familiar to him as you whispered three words he never heard of.

"i love you." you muttered out, pavement becoming red, the wild sounds of water reaching his ears as you took the blow for sakura. sasuke retracts his hand, catching you as you breathed heavily and pressing pressure to stop the wound from bleeding.

"hey! keep your eyes open [name]! don't play this game with me, you've won already! stop it!" sasuke frantically shouted as kakashi stood in front of sakura, shielding her as the scene unfolded all to greatly to them- when did your relationship progress like this?

for all they knew, you hated each other to the guts. they would expected him to laugh- one like of those madman's howling laughter.

not this scene, sasuke shedding a few tears as blood spilled from the side of your neck and him pressing on it to stop the wound.

sasuke's chest heaves up and down, mangekyou sharingan activated as he remembers everything. the sensation, the guilt, the warm trickle of blood, the tears he was shedding- the begging of you to not die out on him.

he remembers it all too well, like the first fall of snow that touched his skin with warmth radiating off from you as you hovered over his lips. the mutterings of promises, the howling of laughters sweet as honey, and the taste of your lips.

the intimacy of it all felt so amazing- the fleeting feeling of just knowing that both of you knew of this. the privacy only known to him, you and the world sent warmth through his cheeks like a warm, pristine, visit to the sand village with no hindrances.

the immaculate sensation of his head throbbing was insane, it was like the feeling of panicking over the wound he inflicted all over again was new. it felt like yesterday, as the moon shines it's beautiful light on his handsome face.

sasuke's been holding for so long, hissing as his head throbbed- the demon in his head cackling at his doom.

yet a warmth he's so familiar with, one that his sharingan can't top, pulled him out from the demon drowning him; defeating it with just a flick of warmth from the touch alone.

he can no longer hear the demon roaring with laughter, screams of agony was all he heard as his demon dies pitifully in his head. sasuke's sharingan died down, reverting back into his onyx gaze.

he could feel the warmth seeping from the hand that's cupping his face, breathing coming to slow down as the amity filled more of sasuke's senses to which successfully calmed him down.

you stared at him in worry, eyes gazing over his crouched state while rubbing a thumb over the apple of his cheeks. "what happened sasuke? why are you up so late?" you asked him in a soft tone hinted with agitation.

the moon coated your skin perfectly, the wind reading his thought of you looking so beautiful in your night gown yet the frown etched on your serene face broke him out of his thoughts. "i couldn't sleep so i went out for a walk." sasuke briefly answered, his hand coming out to touch yours on his face.

as if reading what was destroying his sleep, you sighed out lowly, hand reaching out the one that hovered yours and giving it a short kiss. "it's all in the past sasuke. im alive, you're alive. you don't have to go back, it wasn't your fault you chidoried my neck. i chose to sacrifice myself. don't blame yourself, okay?" you coaxed out, like a warm breeze and wind meeting his skin.

sasuke stood silent for awhile, trying to calm his raging thoughts. after awhile he finally spoke, "i know, but i can't help but feel guilty." he said in a murmur.

"oh dear, you don't have to. i understand you, but if you continue to think about it you won't be able to sleep." you whispered while caressing sasuke's face, placing a small peck on his forehead. retracting from the small peck, you kissed his wrist where his pulse is.

"you're alive. so am i. you don't have to worry alright? you could even kiss my wrist if you really need it." and so sasuke did, he kissed it to reassure himself. over and over, like how he did with your lips on the night he left. at that time it was to reassure you that he will be safe and that he'll come back. but right now...it was to reassure himself you were alive and not part of anything his demon whispers to him.

and you were alive.

alive like the day he kissed you so gently under that wisteria tree, banter on something stupid long forgotten already. he kissed you like there was no tomorrow, like the rays of the sun wouldn't reach you anymore.

alive like when he saved you from madara, from being stabbed as if his life depended on it.

you fought as kids, like one of cats and dogs, yet made an oath under a serene moonlight. the weight of the world and the burden of being apart- it felt weird.

alive like that one encounter you both made in the middle of the forest after a year he left konoha, shock-ridden with a gleam so bright. sasuke didn't know if it was adrenaline or out of impulse, he did. he kissed you- a kiss so passionate, so tender and filled with longing.

it felt natural, out of everything why did kissing you had to be it? it was like a string tied you to him. strings of fate and strings of gold. he felt pulled either way, the way his heart beat pulsed through his chest when he sees you, the giddy feeling in his vein.

the love that conquered his hatred.

who knew all along there was an invisible string tying you to him?

[animatorweirdo]

When the dragons fly

A fire was kindled in your heart. You decided not to stand by while your brother was in danger. Aelon makes a friend.

Chapter 9

[] = Valyrian

Warnings: mentions of blood, lost body parts, dead bodies, crashing, hunting, sneaking inside an enemy fortress, wounds, planning to get out, reader being a bit too daring.

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

The night has fallen. 

You were sitting at the edge of Aelon’s bed, holding one of his old toys in deep thought. You stared at the little rabbit doll. It was one of the first toys you made for him when he was two years old. You could still remember how he laughed in happiness when you first gave it to him. He never went anywhere without it till he was seven and decided he was too old carrying it around. It was one of your most precious memories of him. 

You glanced outside the window and saw some of the Watchmen patrolling the village while others were looking through the forest for Aelon and Samuel, who was also kidnapped, most likely by the same mysterious hooded creature. Ennard insisted that you should stay put and rest since your arm was still in poor condition. You should not stress yourself and allow the Watchmen and other villagers to look for the boys. 

Helena and Eda said the same thing since you didn’t look well after hearing the news, so you agreed to stay put to appease them. However, you did not feel any better. The search didn’t seem to make any progress at all, and your anxiety for Aelon’s well-being only grew. 

You take a deep breath and glance at Aelon’s rabbit doll. Its color had dulled over time, and one of the limb’s stitches was slightly loose, but it was in good condition. Aelon took great care of it. You don’t think he has ever broken a toy over the years. He always treated the toys like they were the most frail things in the world. 

He grew up to be such a bright, gentle boy. 

You shed a tear while thinking about the horrors he would face. The dark lord’s servants have never been known to be gentle, even toward children. Aelon would never be the same after being exposed to such violence like that, and you do not even know what might be happening to him right now. 

You looked outside again, seeing the moon rise in the distance. You feel something ignite within you. A flame that had been lit after so many years, filling your soul with anger and determination. Your brother needed you more than ever. Since when have you ever listened to someone like Ennard? 

You gently laid the rabbit toy down and then left Aelon’s room. 

You throw away the armrest and re-opened the bandages on your arm. 

You then rewrapped them while adding wide sticks to stabilize your arm. You pulled the bandage to tighten the knot, groaning from the tightness and slight pain for a moment. You then moved your fingers and arm around to test its mobility. 

There was a slight ache in your bones, but your arm was good enough for use. You can take the medicine to numb the pain. 

You then went to gear up for a long trip and possible combat. 

You dress up in dark clothes to give you cover in the night and protective leather guards thick enough to protect you from possible attacks. 

You walked into the kitchen, wearing a cloak. You came to one of the planks on the floor and pushed it open with your foot. You then slide it to the side and find a hidden compartment which had a sword and old weapons of yours. 

You picked up the sword and unsheathed it halfway. You gazed as the bright valyrian steel glowed in the light. Memories and sounds of old battles echoed within your ears as you continued staring at the sword you had once used to win them. 

The Night’s Whisperer. The heirloom of your family. You once hoped you never had to use it once you settled down in the village, yet here you were — holding it again in your direst need. 

You pushed it back into its sheath and grabbed all the other weapons you might need before closing the compartment. 

Your boots hit the ground as you walked around the village, avoiding unwanted attention and people who were searching through the woods with torches and dogs. 

You arrived at the local stable and paid the stablekeeper to lend you a horse for the night and keep quiet about your activities. 

Standing in the spot where Aelon and Dwenn got attacked by the flute-playing vampire, you carefully examined the scene. 

Dwenn’s blood still dressed the mossy ground, and there were even some parts of him he lost during the attack. It was a miracle he had survived. He should have died from the severe blood loss, yet the stubborn man managed to get through and refused to rest till he informed you about what happened. 

He was one of a kind. With that kind of determination, he would have made a fine knight for the King’s guard. You certainly need to try to compensate him for trying to defend Aelon and suffering so much for it. 

As you looked around, you noticed smaller footsteps, most likely Aelon's. Then, you came across another, larger yet fainter set of footprints. Aelon's footprints abruptly vanished, suggesting that he was likely picked up from behind and carried away. Telling from the tiny sharp holes on the moss where the toes should be, It was definitely not a human that took him. 

They even tried to walk lightly to avoid leaving a trail. They would have been hard to spot, but you have always been sharper when it came to hunting and tracking. 

You see the footprints leading into the forest. You fetched your horse and followed it. 

You ride through the forest, keeping your eyes on the trail of footprints till you find what seemed to be a crash site. 

The tops of the trees were broken in half, all pointing in the same direction. Some of them were missing pieces of their bark, and you saw moss everywhere as you rode closer to the crash site. 

You find the footprints and white scales that gleamed against the dark green ground. You then guessed what happened since they were Falconer’s scales. 

Falconer most likely sensed Aelon’s distress when he was kidnapped and gave chase but was then blinded by the dark matter and crashed to the ground. You did notice some bruises on him when he came to you. 

You returned your attention to the footprints and clicked your heels, making your horse follow the trail Aelon’s captor left behind. 

You prayed from the bottom of your heart that Aelon was alive and in your reach and that it was not too late for you to save him. 

Aelon was walking around in his cell, brushing his feet against the floor and looking outside from the tiny window. He sighed, feeling anxious, tired, and a bit bored. He had been alone in his cell for quite some time, and Samuel was asleep. He didn’t know what to do in the meantime. 

Someone from the cell beside his cell sighed. “You know, walking around is not going to do anything but make you even more tired? “ the person said. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I can’t bring myself to sleep with those things walking around,” Aelon said as one of the orc guards walked past. 

“It’s fine – but don’t waste your energy,” the man sighed. 

Aelon sat down, leaning against the wall. He then glanced over at the man. The man had long hair and pointy ears, which immediately caught Aelon's attention.

“You’re an elf?” Aelon asked. 

“I am…” the man answered. 

“Why are you here?” Aelon asked again. 

“I was captured just like you, except…” The man showed his bruises. “In a less pleasant manner,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Aelon uttered with a tune of sympathy in his voice. 

“Don’t apologize. We’re both prisoners here,” the elf replied. 

“What’s your name?” Aelon asked. 

“Lastor. And you?” The elf looked at him. 

“Aelon,” Aelon said with a smile, feeling somewhat happy to have a conversation. 

“Aelon… that is an interesting name,” Lastor said thoughtfully. “Thanks…where are you from?” Aelon questioned. 

“You know chit-chatting will not help us out of here?” Lastor started. “No— but it might make you feel better,” Aelon said with a hopeful tone. 

Lastor chuckled dryly. “Be careful when saying such things. They love making you feel bad,” he pointed out at the orcs. 

“Well, we don’t have to be careful once we get out of here,” Aelon stood up, looking out the window of his cell. 

“And what makes you so certain we’re going to escape this place?” Lastor questioned doubtfully. 

“Maybe not us, but my sister could help us,”

“Your sister?” Lastor questioned with confusion in his tone. 

“She’s a strong warrior and really smart. She can definitely help us out of here,” Aelon said confidently. “If she can find us that it…” he muttered in the last part. 

“I mean no offense… but I doubt your sister can go against a whole army of orcs. She will be either captured or killed before she can enter this place,” Lastor stated. “I don’t think so… she always comes up with something,” Aelon said, then looked down. “She always does…” He said, now unsure if Lastor’s words could come true. 

Outside, you crawled on top of the hill and carefully observed the small fortress that inhabited the area. It was challenging to see, but luckily, the orcs carried enough torches to light up the place. 

You frowned. 

You already had a dreadful feeling when the tracks led you to a tunnel system of sorts and finding it full of orcs, but finding a hidden fortress filled with those creatures was just another cake to the feeling. 

The fortress was relatively small, nothing but a hidden base. It looked like it could only house approximately a hundred people, most being soldiers, those in charge of those soldiers, and those in charge of them all. 

It was a well-hidden location, and it would definitely be challenging to infiltrate with the lake and the ravines surrounding it. 

If Aelon was in there, then it was not going to be easy. You have infiltrated fortresses and bases before, but back then, you had a group of your most trusted men to help you. This time, you would be doing this on your own. 

You glanced at the dam that was obstructing the lake's natural flow. You furrowed your brow in thought. You recalled coming across the dried-up river on your way to the fortress, the very same river connected to the wells in your village.

If you were correct, the dried-up river was connected to this lake which was blocked by the dam built by the orcs. It would explain why the wells dried up all of a sudden. The orcs had blocked the river flow. It would definitely require more than yourself to destroy the dam and get the water flowing again. But for now, your primary concern was to find Aelon.

You began crawling toward the fortress. 

Silently, you slid down the hill into the bloody ravine. You carefully stop at the bottom, the bloody water soaking your boots and cloak. The smell was awful, but you tolerated it and observed the orcs that patrolled the bridge and the walls.  The torches they held in hand were a dead giveaway to their location, so you quickly made your way to the bridge where you could climb up to the fortress. 

You kept a careful eye on the orcs on the bridge, but when you saw one of them stop and look over your way – you quickly lay against the ground, pretending to be one of the bodies that dressed the ravine. 

The orc looked over to your way with a suspicious look. Your heart began to race when you heard the orc sniffing the air. He looked at your location, and you thanked the gods the torch in his hand couldn’t light up his view much further, so you were still safe in the cover of the dark. 

When he looked elsewhere, you took the chance to cover yourself in the bloody water to mask your scent and pulled a dead body over you before lying down on the ground and watching the orc look your way again. 

The orc watched you intensively, but when you lay unmoving, the orc shrugged his shoulders and continued his patrol. You silently released a sigh of relief before pushing the dead body away. You waited for a moment before crawling toward the bridge.

When you reached the base of the bridge, you stood up and looked up to the fortress. You had already calculated where the dungeons could be since that was the most likely only place, where they would keep Aelon. You hoped he was there. His silvery hair and violet eyes would make him stand out, so you hoped he was there with other prisoners. You don't want to consider the possibility of someone with a disturbed mind taking a sinister interest in him.

Taking a deep breath, you began climbing up to the fortress. 

Aelon silently sat against the wall, playing with a piece of wheat he found in his cell. The cut on his cheek stung, and hunger was bothering his stomach. It felt like he hadn’t eaten for days. He missed your food. You always made good food. 

Aelon jerked when he heard something behind the wall of his cell. It sounded like something was moving against the wall and jumping. He backed away and looked at his barred cell window, where you suddenly appeared, holding onto the bars. 

Excitement and joy beamed from within Aelon’s chest, and he was about to call out to you till you pushed your finger against your lips, telling him to be silent. He shut his mouth, realizing causing noise would catch the guard’s attention. He walked closer to the window, where you looked at him with a relieved and gentle expression. 

“Are you hurt?” you whispered before noticing the deep cut on his cheek. “Who did that to you?” you questioned, feeling slight anger for the culprit who wounded your brother. 

“I… think his name was Amdirvelui. He’s the one who brought me here,” Aelon quietly replied before looking at you. “I’m really happy to see you again,” he said with tears swelling in his eyes. You looked at him softly. “Me too,” you smiled, holding onto his hand through the window. 

“It’s really scary here. Samuel is here too. Can you help him out of here?” Aelon asked. You looked at him with hesitation. “It will be difficult,” you said. “Please, (Name)! I do not want to leave him in this place. They will hurt him like they hurt me, ” Aelon begged. 

You stared at his pleading eyes, feeling slightly conflicted. Getting him out could have been possible, but getting both him and Samuel out would make things much more difficult, even if you wouldn’t personally leave Samuel behind either. You needed a new plan. 

You looked over to the walls and the towers that loomed above you. It will definitely be more challenging. You looked down on Aelon. “Okay,” you said, and Aelon smiled in relief. 

“I’m gonna go find the keys. Stay sharp and be prepared. I will explain what we will do once I come back. Understood?” you questioned. Aelon vigorously nodded. 

“Good…” you hesitated to leave. “[Stay strong for me, my little dragon],” you uttered in valyria before disappearing from the window. 

Aelon stared at the cell window, feeling a mixture of worry for your safety and hope that you would help him and Samuel escape from this place.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn​ @kimnamnu @thatrandomidiot182

[jiliansky-blog]

Wake me up. Chapter 12. What you lost

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1855

Morpheus

Her words felt like they opened my wounds. I shouldn’t believe her. But does she really believe in me? I'm not broken, that I am hurt. Why did she tell me this? Could she really understand what I feel?

“Are you alright?” she asked, while we were going to the fortress.

“Yes, why?” I replied.

“You are so thoughtful all the time,” she answered. “I mean, you lost yourself in your thoughts. I hope you are not angry with me”.

“I’m not,” I said. “I just have a lot to think about”.

I understood that her words caused not only this painful feeling, but also a feeling that I hadn't felt for a very long time. I like her. She was bold, brave and reckless. And, perhaps, a little bit of hurt. Or broken too. And I shouldn’t have. She was a mortal, even with powers. She woke up one day. And then it will be forbidden. And also, I am afraid that I will get used to her being here, and I won’t let her go.

Then we hear the sound of horns. Someone attacks us. So I grab her, even though she wants to fight. But I want to protect her.

“Let me go!” she said angrily. “Did you even hear what I tell recently?! I want to fight! Morpheus, let me go immediately!”

“And you promised me not to risk it,” I said.

“I’m not risking it,” she hissed. “But I can’t hide all the time. You were the one who told me to stop hiding”.

“I meant hiding here in general,” I said, annoyed. “You can die in your world if you die here, you stupid mortal”.

She looked at me like I had slapped her. And pushed me.

“I may be mortal,” she said. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t understand some things. And you are hiding too. From feelings and everything that can make you hurt”.

“You know nothing about me!” I hissed.

“Is that so?” she asked. “Then why don’t you talk about what happened to you? It won’t feel better if you just let it boil inside of you. I don’t remember what hurts me, but you remember and don’t let anyone help you”.

I wanted to wake her up immediately or leave and let her fight her own demons. But it won’t help her finish her quest faster.

“I’m endless,” I said. “I don’t have feelings”.

“Oh yes, you do,” and she suddenly kissed me fiercely. Her lips were cold and sweet. But then she quickly ran away.

“We’re in trouble,” I whispered.

What the hell did you just do? You kissed him. Now he will leave you, for sure. You just didn’t know how to react to everything he said.

By the moment you joined the fight, everyone almost killed all the enemies. Legolas found you and was worried sick.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, Morpheus saved me,” you said.

“And where is Aragorn?” the elf asked. “I don’t see him anywhere”.

“He fell,” you said.

“What?” He looked at you. Worry in his eyes grew bigger.

“But he is alive, I assure you,” you said. “The river should take him to the riverside. He will join us later”.

“If you say so,” he sighed. “And where is your companion?”

“He joins us later too”, you replied.

You can only hope that he will join you. And let Legolas take you further to Helm’s deep. You were surrounded by people. Also Eowyn came to you, asking about Aragorn. You told her the same you told Legolas. She wanted to send rescue team for him, but Teoden didn’t approve. So you just move along with the rest of your companions and people. And you don’t even know if Morpheus is following you or run away again.

“Eowyn, can you tell me, please, if Morpheus is following us”, you said. “We had a fight, and I don’t want to look for him myself”.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “But I don’t see him anywhere. I’m sorry”.

“That’s not your fault,” you sighed.

You had hope that he would return eventually, like he already did. You hate the idea of finishing everything and leaving that world without saying goodbye to him, at least.

“Do you love him?” Eowyn asked suddenly.

"Maybe," you said.

“I saw that he protected you,” she admitted. “Maybe he loves you back”.

“Or he doesn’t want more troubles,” you replied. “I need to return home when we win, and he also should return home. And we can never see each other again”.

“But you can visit each other, right?” she asked with hope.

“I don’t think so”, you sighed. “I’m not sure he wants it”.

Very soon, you reached the Fortress. Of course, Aragorn joined you all. But Morpheus didn’t appear. And you felt heartbroken a little.

“Is he run away?” asked Legolas. “He saved you there, but left you for this big battle. He is not decent”.

“It’s not his battle,” you sighed.

“It’s everyone's battle,” he objected.

“He can return, but I don’t know when.” You shrugged.

And then elves of Lorien arrived with Haldir. You wanted to save him. And you will.

Morpheus

I wasn’t sure should follow her or not. This complicates everything. What should I do now? Why she keeps make men from her dreams?

“Boss, are you alright?” Matthew found me. “You know they are going ahead. You can lose him. Or are you going to return home?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Why did this girl fall for me?”

“Oh, I dare to say that you are her type,” he said. “And you saved her. Even if she was angry, she may like it”.

“Maybe I should let her be...”, I whispered, but then her words echoed in my mind. She said that I’m hiding from pain. And she was right. I wronged everything a few times. I don’t want to do it again. Furthermore, I should do at least that.

“You can’t run away, boss,” he said too.

“I know; I will follow her later,” I said. “She is safe for now. That elf will protect her. Perhaps that’s the answer. Perhaps I should make one dream later that she can love and that will love her. And then she will forget about me”.

“Something tells me it’s not a great idea,” he said.

“What would you know about that?” I asked.

“You wanted to let go of her dreams,” Matthew replied. “And that will have the opposite result. It can make her want to stay more in her dreams”.

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. She will forget about me once she wakes up. They all forget in the end. And her realm doesn’t need another catastrophe.

“And you?” asked the raven. “Do you have feelings for her?”

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter,” I replied. “It doesn’t mean to be”.

You were supposed to wait for elves, but everything you could think about was Morpheus. Is it going to come? Or is he going to leave you until you leave his kingdom?

“Are you alright?” asked Legolas.

"Yes," you said. “Just nervous a little bit”.

“I’m not surprised”, said Haldir. “The woman shouldn’t interfere in war”.

“I can’t stay aside and wait for the end,” you said. “It is so much worse than just fighting alongside you”.

First, you were afraid to fight, but then you remembered that this was only a dream and started fighting with a rage you didn’t expect from yourself. And you can save Haldir. He looked at you in amazement, and you smiled.

But then someone hit you, and you fell. You saw a big orc who was prepared to attack you again, but then someone saved you. Morpheus. He returns.

"Morpheus," you sighed.

“I need to apologize,” he replied. “I shouldn’t have left you”.

“That’s alright,” you said.

“Let me take you away from here,” he said. “Did you finish your mission?”

“I did,” you said.

You let him take you away from the battle, and you appeared in the beautiful meadow. You were sure that you hadn't seen such a sight earlier.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“In Fiddle’s green,” Morpheus replied. “It is the center of the Dreaming. And there is my castle. If you are curious.”

“Wow, that place is beautiful,” you smiled. “You brought me here for the first time”.

“I suppose you need a change of scenery,” he replied.

And then you remember the kiss. You still felt how soft and warm his lips were. His lips are so perfect. And then you blushed.

“Do you have feelings for me?” he asked.

Wow, he was really straightforward. So he wanted to talk about it.

"Perhaps," you replied.

“We can’t be together,” he said. “I’m not one of your dreams or nightmares. You will wake up soon, and we will never see each other”.

“I don’t wait for you to start dating me,” you said. Even though his words hurt you. «Just don’t push me away.”

“I don’t want to bring catastrophe to your world,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to get used to you only to feel your disappearance”.

“I’m not going anywhere yet”. You almost smiled. His voice trembled with insecurity and pain. “I’m right here”. 

And then he kissed you first. It was a desperate and emotionally painful kiss. But you kissed him back, gentler. You tried to reassure him that everything would be okay.

“I can’t believe you’ve got under my skin,” he whispered.

“Well, I can say that too,” you smiled. “But I’m not complaining. You are so different from everyone I knew”.

“I thought you didn't remember anything from your past,” he admitted.

“Well, I can feel that I didn’t meet anyone like you,” you smiled. “So, what are we going to do now?”

“Do you wish to continue your dreams?” he asked.

He was still deadly serious. You can see the straggle he has in his eyes. He wanted you to finish everything, but he doesn’t want you to let go.

“I wish,” you smiled. “But we can stay here for an hour or so”.

“You need to know,” he said seriously. “Those relationships between Endless and mortals are forbidden, and they end in ruination”.

“Is that what's stopping you?” you asked.

“Yes, and also that I can hurt you,” he said. “And that we can never see each other again. You are not supposed to live here.”

“You mentioned it,” you replied. “Once or twice. So what are we going to do now? Are you expecting me to just forget everything in the end?”

“I don’t know,” he pouted. “But I don’t want you to suffer”.

“I suggest that we need to finish my quest, and then we talk about it, alright?” you asked. “I don’t want you to run away from me”.

“You ran away from me the last time,” he smirked. “I just gave you some time. Very well, let’s finish your dreams”.

“Can you promise me not to run away again?” you asked.

“I will try,” he nodded.

“So are you ready?” you asked.

“When you are,” he replied.

[cinematicnomad]

the terror fitzier fic recs below the cut for @skylessnights

this far from heaven by 5runner5 (1/1 | 10k+ | Ex) fitzier; slow burn; missing scenes; masturbation; hurt/comfort; getting together

this man—this irritable drunk who apparently saw nothing of worth whatsoever in james—was a sad, far cry from the man he had imagined, when he’d first thrilled at reading the name crozier in dispatches.

forged in the ice by captaincrozier (28/28 | 97k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; fix-it (of sorts); secret relationship; canon typical violence

something was forged in that arctic ice, something crozier will carry with him always, something that gave him hope, and the strength to get home. it was love... but the moment of its existence was cruelly brief.... and what is he without it now? haunted by and faithful to its memory, he tries to carry on, but how does one continue when faced with its ghost, every day?

mirror, mirror by palpalou (2/2 | 26k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; sick fic; misunderstandings; getting together

in which francis flatters james back to health, without noticing how hard he's flirting, actually. [for the terror own language fest, english in chapter II]

sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me. by gwerfel, kt_fairy (19/19 | 85k+ | M) fitzier; past francis/sir james; canon divergence; post-canon fix it; slow burn

they came upon a furrow in the landscape, too shallow to be called anything but a scrape, and all stopped in their tracks. there were indeed men. a crowd of them, walking and talking or sprawled upon the ground, not raving or twitching or gurgling foul smelling blood. they were in appalling condition though, ross could tell even from this distance, but they were still men. a figure stepped towards ross' party, and he would recognize that damned hat and the way hands were tucked up high into greatcoat pockets anywhere. he scrambled with the harness, throwing it off and taking off in a stumbling, inelegant dash across the shingle. "ross!" he heard francis gasp just before he collided with him, holding his dear friend in an embrace that nearly sent them both crashing to the ground. OR ross arrives in time, wounds are still open, and the risky business of having survived is navigated. the arctic does not let you out of its grasp with a wave and a goodbye.

untitled (perfect lovers), 2019, mixed media, london by caravaggiosbrushes (8/8 | 70k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; au–artists; enemies to lovers; self-inflicted wounds 

sometimes there is nothing pretty in art. when francis crozier, a conceptual artist with a long and successful career, is invited to the franklin art gallery to put up a solo exhibition of his artworks, the last thing he expects is to find james fitzjames, performer artist and Instagram phenomenon, there, ready to work with him.

penumbra by crafterofwords (23/23 | 84k+ | Ex) fitzier; francis/sophia; canon divergence; period typical homophobia; angst with a happy ending

captain francis rawdon moira crozier and commander james fitzjames, of the royal navy, have survived their harrowing experience in the frozen wasteland of the arctic circle. a safe return to london has been these men's only desire through the very long nights in the arctic, so it is with confusion and discouragement that they find their homecoming has left them wanting. haunted by the memories and knowledge of horrors beyond the scope of what most men can bear, will they be able to find happiness, despite being given all they thought they'd ever wanted?

till human voices wake us by ktula (1/1 | 14k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; flatmates; repression; trauma recovery; tenderness

“thank you for last night,” james says, because it’s easier to say that than it is to say what he’s actually thinking. “i wasn’t…you’re welcome,” francis says, his gaze going to the sideboard a moment before re-focusing on james. “did it help?” “yes,” james lies. the second batch of nightmares, after all, hadn’t been francis’ fault any more than the first ones had been.

when all the world shall melt by neverfaraway (8/8 | 49k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; somebody lives/not everyone dies; fix-it; pining 

i’ll not have a picture, he thinks, gazing grimly at james’ drawn, damaged face. i’ll not have a miniature to tuck inside my breast pocket, or a sketch made on a winter’s evening by the fireside. it will be my own burden to remember him, until such a time as this cursed land takes me, too. twenty five men return to england. for francis, this means making a poor job of keeping james from scuttling his career, and working out what a sea captain might do with himself in the absence of a ship.

de remedio amoris by crownlessliestheking (1/1 | 14k+ | Ex) fitzier; past/background francis/sir james; canon divergence; introspection; pining

francis has always been a grasping thing. covetous to the last, drenched in vice, and gripping tight to whoever—whatever—is closest, be it james ross or sophia or the the neck of a bottle. or all three. now, there is james fitzjames.

a moon-blanched land by wildcard_47 (10/10 | 44k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; sharing a bed; hurt/comfort; retirement; pining

almost a year after their return to england, francis crozier is tired of london society and tired of fighting an inexplicable restlessness. when given the chance to move to a seaside cottage with his former second, james fitzjames, how can he refuse?

so much spring by icicaille (1/1 | 17k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; emotional hurt/comfort; angst with a happy ending; pining 

in the half-year since their return, francis had become aloof, impassive, withdrawn. there was no logic to this strange metamorphosis. at greenhithe, francis had promised to look after him. had told james: come find me. yet francis had never been further out of reach. on a cold spring day in 1849, francis drops everything and flees london for his sister's farm in ireland. james, hurt and hungry for answers, gives chase.

what ice does by what_alchemy (4/4 | 44k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; internalized homophobia; sharing a room; slow burn

captain parry’s third arctic expedition takes a year longer to prepare than planned. it leaves in 1825 with ship’s boy james fitzjames aboard HMS hecla. master's mate francis crozier takes him under his wing. this changes everything.

a pair of finches in a brass cage by fiendlikequeen (1/1 | 5k+ | M) fitzier; unrequited francis/sir james; canon divergence; POV sir james; accidental voyeurism

james clark ross brought francis crozier back from the arctic, but he finds francis a changed man—perhaps the most striking change being francis's constant companion, james fitzjames. james discovers, only partly by accident, the true nature of the relationship between francis and fitzjames.

i'll describe the way i feel, weeping wounds that never heal by velocity_owl87 (8/8 | 26k+ | T)  fitzier; canon divergence; hurt/comfort; career ending injuries; recovery; introspection

by sheer blind luck ross manages to find the remaining members of the franklin expedition, many of whom are at death's door. one of these being commander fitzjames and the main concern of crozier, whom ross judges far changed in ways he can't begin to understand. he offers his friend and fitzjames a place to recover while francis faces both external conflicts and comes to realisations about his life, his ambitions...And the person he wants to have with him for the rest of his life. all the while fitzjames struggles with coming to terms with lingering injuries, the ordeal of being known, and the possibility of finally getting his heart's desire.

trafalgar, happier by fiendlikequeen (1/1 | 17k+ | Ex) fitzier; francis/sir james; canon divergence; jealousy; accidental voyeurism; angst with a happy ending

james fitzjames has decided that he is perfectly ambivalent about death— provided he may die with francis crozier by his side. but when james clark ross arrives with both a rescue party and competing affections for francis, things change.

the devils before us by masterofallimagination (6/6 | 42k+ | T)  fitzier; canon divergence; somebody lives/not everyone dies; slow burn; pining

after five years in the arctic, francis and james return to england and begin the long journey home.

starcross by reinetta (1/1 | 17k+ | Ex)  fitzier; au–historical; au–regency; misunderstandings; enemies to friends to lovers

“there is barely a ribbon or a feather or a scrap of silk left this side of exeter.” “no woman under thirty is left unmoved,” tom said, grinning around the stem of his pipe. “even our essie is taken up with the idea!” esther’s dark eyes were dancing in the firelight. “though she is far too young to think of marrying at present—least of all to mr. james fitzjames.”

sleeping felt like lies by the_ocean_weekender (2/2 | 41k+ | T) fitzier; canon divergence; flatmates; depression; angst with a happy ending

escaping the ice is more down to sheer dumb luck than any happenstance of sight, divine intervention, or the not-insignificant amount of skill their crews bring to the occasion, but they all get out alive (bar unfortunate souls sir john and cornelius hickey, whose deaths are viewed by many as, contrarily, rather fortunate.) now, in london, pressed by commander fitzjames to saving their navy half-pay by sharing rooms together, crozier is struggling to return to normality. it would help, he admits begrudgingly, if he could tell the difference between dreams blessed/cursed by the sight and just good old trauma-induced nightmares. and if he hadn’t started to develop feelings for the man who, even ridden with scurvy, still deserved the title ‘handsomest man in the royal navy’.

never seek him, defiantly, at night by veganthranduil (1/1 | 17k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; slow burn; bunkmates; recovery; pining; alcoholism 

“the loss of a ship is a small price to pay for the completion of the passage, wouldn’t you say?” james said, employing his best smile. make it look easy, make it look painless, and people would gladly follow you—he’d learnt that early on. “well i’d not thought to see it,” said sir john, looking between the two of them. “if both of you are of one mind, there must be some truth to it. very well.” he clapped his hands together. “francis, james, the two of you can figure out the logistics. i’ll inform the men after david young’s funeral service. begin preparations immediately.”

to be made whole again by 5runner5 (10/10 | 29k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; eating disorder; survivor guilt; recovery; nightmares

james bit into a laden slice of toast with the undamaged side of his mouth. “i thought we agreed that thinking was very dangerous,” he said, and though his voice was light francis could feel a weight behind it. it was a weight made up of sleepless nights and crying jags; of francis punching a solid wall and of james shouting himself hoarse; of the unbearable social calls and wrenching letters and pitying looks which they could not avoid. they carried a great many heavy things with them, now. london, 1848: francis and james try to put themselves back together.

each mortal thing by jouissant (6/6 | 26k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; friends to lovers; gender identity; the dress

truth is a concept with which james fitzjames has been variously acquainted.

pressure ridge by alitneroon (8/8 | 18k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; missing scenes; POV alternating; happy ending 

here, so far away from the world, it felt as though consequences didn’t exist. he’d already been through so much with the men, he almost imagined that they could know about this too and understand, that it wouldn’t matter. despite everything, the bleakness of the landscape and the food that was slowly killing them, francis managed to find a moment or two of happiness when he was with james.

SWIPE RIGHT (or: THE TINDER AU) by caravaggiosbrushes (2/2 | 29k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; POV francis; falling in love; author james; fluff

francis is 51, single, almost two years sober. he has a nice job, a dog, and a tinder profile he doesn’t use that much. one night, he decides to give the app another try. the rest is, as they say, history.

between the pain and the treasure by mysleepyrambles (2/2 | 22k+ | M) fitzier; canon divergence; hopeful ending; slow burn; mutual pining; fix-it

with sir john wilfully blind to the danger they are in, francis takes matters into his own hands.

death is a sailing ship by maleann (7/7 | 27k+ | M) fitzier; canon compliant; canon-typical violence; afterlife; POV james; body horror

james had died knowing that his heart, the core of his very being that no biographer would ever know, would carry on in francis crozier. would be protected, cherished even, because francis deemed him worthy of such care. oh, how he had loved francis then. he had been at peace with this being his last living thought. it’s his only thought now. in this undead life, his love has nowhere to go. james fitzjames wakes up in the afterlife. it looks strangely similar to his cabin on erebus.

one fast move or i’m gone by cosmogram (3/3 | 25k+ | Ex) fitzier; unrequited james/dundy; POV dundy; au–modern setting; au–academia

in a lifetime of unsubtleties, the affair with crozier is james’s worst. crozier’s hand resting on james’s lower back, there for all to see. crozier’s fingers nudging gently at james’s shirtcuffs when they stood around at receptions; crozier’s pale eyes going soft and foolish when james entered the room. sometimes simply crozier’s nod, sharp and proprietary, as though to say get upstairs, get in my office, close the door—as if the rest of them were not right there. or, the one where james and dundy are bright young things (baby post-docs) in english literature, and there’s a cranky new professor in town...

let the river rush in, not wash away by kt_fairy (4/4 | 27k+ | Ex) fitzier; canon divergence; established relationship; crossdressing; internalized homophobia

“it’s not something you wish known when you look like i do, i have learnt. ‘handsomest man in the royal navy’ feeling…” he shot a look at francis before bowing his face towards his teacup. “i had enough on the line, with my parentage, without everyone guessing how...how fine i felt in that dress. how soft and light and bright i felt, playing the very opposite of all i try to be.” or most people come home, boundaries are set, james (eventually) gets a dress.

let us live now / only this by furiously, ilcardinalecheballa (5/5 | 25k+ | T)  fitzier; canon divergence; slow burn; mutual pining; flatmates; friends to lovers

“i've put in for another commission.” james' voice was perfectly ordinary: so much so, in fact, that francis was sure, for the space of two blissful seconds, that he must have misheard. francis crozier and james fitzjames are alive. they are home. so are most of their men. but coming home—coming home together—is a more complicated proposition than it had at first glance appeared. then james' career comes to call.

'tis past, and so am i by glassessay (1/1 | 26k+ | T) fitzier; time travel fix-it; everyone lives/nobody dies (eventually); POV james

james fitzjames dies as francis cries above him, bleeding out of too-old wounds and thinking if only we had known. he opens his eyes in his cabin.

seen by ktula (9/9 | 97k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; BDSM; slow burn; author francis; explicit sexual content

against his better judgement, francis crozier goes to a kink convention in canada to promote his new book. it's the dead of winter, and he has a vague suspicion he should have stayed home. then he meets james fitzjames, and confirms his suspicion is correct.

paper boats by Kt_fairy (4/4 | 25k+ | M) fitzier; pre-canon; canon divergence; gender identity; period typical attitudes; the dress

james did not feel quite like himself, dressed up like a sailor. and, strangely, feeling unlike himself was rather satisfying. he supposed it was all the change going on. in a few days he would step onto the pyramus and begin his life at sea, in the hope it was vast and varied enough that it contained a place where someone like him might be able to be honest about themselves, and still live a good life. or james fitzjames goes to sea, finds a place for himself, then finds a way to be himself.

rotten work by for_autumn_i_am (1/1 | 26k+ | Ex) fitzier; au–modern setting; coworkers; pining; misunderstandings; enemies to friends to lovers

james fitzjames, COO of erebus voyages, has a tragic crush on his straight colleague, francis crozier. (well. he thinks francis is straight.) there’s no way his tender feelings will ever be returned, is there?

don’t you (forget about me) by soft_october (1/1 | 6k+ | G) fitzier; canon divergence; POV sir james; outsider POV; misunderstandings; secret relationship

all oddities were temporary anyway! they were going home, francis would be well again, the enterprise would soon return to england, and there would be a farce of a court martial before a knighthood for francis and an easy retirement. and as for fitzjames…well, fitzjames would be reassigned, of course, continue his meteoric rise within the ranks of the navy. he would send a suitable number of letters to francis from somewhere exotic and warm before the draw of newer company turned his thoughts away from the arctic, and those who came with it. after rescuing the remnants of the franklin expedition from the ice, ross would prefer everything go back to normal. it doesn't.

some unknown tropical bird by hauntinghouses (1/1 | 4k+ | T) fitzier; canon divergence; ghosts; supernatural elements; fix-it; angst w/ a happy ending

even after returning to england, francis crozier is haunted by the past.

[harryssyndrome]

The Enemy: 1 | Castaway

A/N: It's nice to be back along a idea with my love life. Hopefully my spark will stay alive to finish this short story. Thank you for your support in all of my stories. Guess what's gonna happen next and let me know in the comments. And I'm sorry in advance for any historical errors if any in the future chapters. More to come soon!

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC

Word Count: 1.2k

Series Master-Post | MASTERLIST

Home - July 22nd, 1944 - 4:38 PM - Syracuse, Italy

The sun was slowly heading toward the horizon and air felt soft, bunch of seagull were playing in the open sky. Kate was sitting on a chair in a comfortable silence by the coastline. She was reading a new thriller novel when a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders, alarmed, she gasped, making her roommate laugh. Rave was her soul sister more than a friend or roomie.

"Oh I'm gonna get you" Kate says, throwing her book on her seat as she ran after Rave, both laughing like little kids. Running into the beach, time waiting for either of the girl to slow down and eventually the girls stopped, catching their breath.

Rave walked up to Kate and sat down pulling her as well, the waves were touching their feet. "Girl with your face and fantasies mostly read romance novels but you are just the opposite, what is it with you? Bad taste in boys or you're hiding a secret I don't know." Rave asked with mischievous voice.

"You know everything there is missy! I never dated a boy so can't comment about a taste and you know it besides, thriller is something my life is missing out right now." Kate says playfully.

"Point to be taken my lady. Who knows a thrill ride finds its way to you by just a boy!" Rave smiles while Kate playfully rolls her eyes and mimics talking with her hand like 'blah blah'.

"I'm serious Katie! Life gets exciting babe"

"Maybe... but right now? I wanna enjoy this moment with my girl." Kates smirks and then splashes salty water into her face. Rave softly moans and starts splashing the water back at Kate.

The clouds were slowly rising from the ocean and mist was hid the outline of the coast. The girls were giggling and smiling through their wet faces, when Rave's eyes befell on something black and she stopped playing, making Kate confused. "What is that thing?" Grabbing Kate's attention, Rave nudged her to move on and check it out, while she would stay behind her. "Why?"

"Because you read more thriller books than I do."

Taking steady steps toward the thing Kate's heart hammered into her chest, approaching further they began to realize it's a man. He was flung up out of the ocean. Arms above his head, feet by the beaker; girls stood in front of the unconscious man wondering how he managed to come through the dangerous spiked rocks. Well he did somehow - he must've been badly torn. They inspected him to find indeed he was so. The sand on one side of him slowly became stained of red soaking through.

Kate squatted down to take a look at the condition of his face, upon his young and tortured face was a cut, his brunette hair, wet. Blood flowed freshly at her touch. On the right side of his lower back Kate saw that a gun wound had been reopened. The flesh was blackened with charge of powder. Sometime, not many days ago, the man had been shot and had not been tended. It was bad chance that the rock had struck the wound.

"Help me get him inside" She said in hurry, as Rave helped her to lift him. The girls swing his arms around their neck when Rave exclaims "He's a British soldier!" As she stops, "I know" Kate voice sounds small, eyes still looking at the unconscious man.

"And you're helping him? Still?! Do you even realize the consequences of this?!" She spat back.

"I know... but we can't leave him here to die now that we've found him. I know he's the enemy, but it's not his fault that the world is standing on a battlefield, he was doing his part and anyways we as a doctor take a oath. We're bounded by it. And if we not even consider that, then we really shouldn't be doctors and most importantly, I'm doing this for humanity. I'm ready to be a traitor and at least for now I'm not regretting it."

"Well... I can digest this by simply saying this again 'thrill ride found its way to you by just a boy' yeah?"

"Yeah" girls passed a small smile to each other.

They carried him up the steps and into the side door of the house. This door opened into a passage, and down the passage they carried the man towards an empty bedroom. Kate bent down and started to peel off his clothes so that she could later wash off the sand and dirt while she had Rave get a bucket of water and a small towel to wipe him.

Rave rushed back into the room with the bucket and handed over the wet towel to Kate as she asked her to prepare the tools for operation, she headed out with a nod. When she came back, she gave the man an injection of anesthesia, Kate located the area where the blood flowing like a river, she felt the tip of his instrument strike against something hard, dangerously near the kidney, then quickly, with the cleanest and most precise of incisions, the bullet was out.

The man quivered but he was still unconscious. "He won't need more anesthesia I guess" Rave says calmly while Kate turned as swiftly as though she had never paused and from her medicines she chose a small vial and from it filled a hypodermic and thrust it into the patient's left arm. Then putting down the needle, she took the man's wrist again. The pulse under her fingers fluttered once or twice and then grew stronger.

"He will surely survive." Kate says with a tearful grin, hugging her best friend. It was her first ever operation without any assistance and she pulled it off with ease moreover she was happier about the fact that this man who seems not more than 25 years old will live.

She checks her wristwatch it was almost 8 pm so they decided to let him have rest and have some rest themselves after having an 'exciting day. Kate lied down on the couch, closing her eyes and taking deep breath while Rave brought two glasses of cold coffee in her hand, she softly whispered "Katie" as she sat in semi-sitting position and took the glass from Rave's hand and says "thank you". The girls sipped in silence until Rave broke it, "what are we gonna do next?" Kate just shrugged.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this chapter! Reblog and likes are appreciated!💗 Dm me or comment to be added on the tag list!

Chapters earlier available on Wattpad

[spotlightstudios]

To be kind to myself as I take a break from packing: this is an oc post! If you don't want to read about my oc Nash, then keep scrolling!

I've been finally being kind to two of my biggest comfort characters, my ocs Ichor and Nash.

Ichor is a character that will continue to follow me, and so his story develops as I do, but Nash? Nash helped me with a lot of self-discovery and self-confidence. (Ex. He was his party leader, and despite not always being right as in Correct, his party trusted him to do right by them as in what was best for them. Helped me learn that mistakes are okay and people will still support you.)

So, Nash's story was cut short. Our dm chose to not continue the plot, and we swapped campaigns. We were in the midst of a world-destroying war, people all over the continent were dying, and all of the pressure for helping then was directed Solely towards Nash (he'd established a kingdom w/ the party before these tragedies started, and he was deemed King alongside his husband Maldric.) And Nash had no way of helping them. The first city they visited that called for aid? They tried to fight off the monster, and they won, but at the price of Nash's life.

That should've been it. He died. The hope for the war died with him. Maldric locked himself in his lab, Nash's siblings were heartbroken, the whole city mourning.

Then the party realized they couldn't win without Nash. They sought him out in the afterlife and brought him back at the price of one of their souls. He ressurected alone in his tomb with no memory of dying. He broke out from his mausoleum and stumbled into the daylight without a second thought, afraid for his party and people. And then when the townsfolk saw him, they screamed.

He was undead. His wounds were still raw, blood coagulated and black, skin pale and cold. His heart didn't beat. The undead were riding all across the continent, and that was the doing of the enemy. His people feared the same had been done to their king.

It took some getting used to. Nash (who worshipped Helios, titan of the sun) could no longer feel the warmth of the sum. On adventures he was often so distressed that he couldn't lead his party or save them. He felt horrible that Maldric could no longer hear the beating of his heart or comfortably be held (despite the dwarf saying he didn't care), and he hated the way his people seemed to avoid him even months after the ordeal.

That was where we left off.

Now though, I've decided he deserves to be happy.

Nash grows old, and remains King of his city, Haven. Or, actually, he remains the same age. As an undead, though the fighting and defeating of their enemy left him with more scars and grey hairs, he grew no older. His God, Helios, chose to bless Nash after he survived the final encounter. As he struck the final blow beneath the sun, Helios made Nadh a champion.

He's immortal now. When under the sunlight, he is living. He breathes, his heart beats, and his wounds all close. While at night he's undead once again, his skin pales and his wounds re-open. During the day he gives off a natural glow, and everyone knows him as the Immortal Sun King. (Maldric, as a boon from his God Hepheastus, chose to inhabit a cyclops-made metal body, effectively becoming immortal to live beside Nash.

Nash's siblings aged and died as he ruled, their offspring (adopted and biological) are his bravest warriors and smartest scholars. He loves them dearly. He watches them grow, and the melancholy replaces the grief fairly quickly.

And, of course, he's the patron of many, many, adventurers. He's a father to a lot of them, a friend to others, and a savior to the continent.

The longer he rules, the closer he gets to godhood alongside Maldric, but he doesn't care for that much at all. He only wants to take care of his people as he always had. He has himself, his husband, his faith, and his home. What else could he ever hope for?

[lenora-reyes]

The Anguish of Defeat

Music

10 days of fighting and now the final battle was upon them. The sky was dark with large puffy clouds aggravated by the Tempest's Fury. Lightning streaked in errant paths towards the mountain's top, where the forces called upon staged their final stand. There a Watcher had emerged to initiate the fight, the construct succumbing to the power and might of the Primal Infused Dragon hellbent on revenge. He was known as Stratogeth. The storms heralded to the bellowing roars of a creature that did not need the titan's blessing to demonstrate or showcase his inate power.

Even with dragons on the Coalition's side, their blades and spells did little in the way of impeding this behemoth's intentions. Throughout the combat, Squire Reyes found herself seeking to save friend and ally alike, to patch herself and others up, and defend herself in the times she was at the mercy of the storm. Even with all her efforts to keep her fellow Knights alive, there was breaks beyond her control. Dame Eleysia Stormcrow had fallen more than once in battle, as did Yelena Sunshield, and eventually Sir Melek. And for a moment, it seemed that despite the adamant resolve of their forces, the enemy's tide would sweep them away.

Electrical discharges that were used in an area-wide effect quickly brought down their numbers as Stratogeth mocked their resolve and feeble attempts to slay him. One by one, she saw her friends and new family fall. And with her oath, she stood her ground against all odds to try to assure victory for the people, House Sunshield, and the Borderland Coalition. But as those electric shocks were dispensed into her and comrades alike, she felt her muscles fail her beneath the weight of plate armor and ruined terrain. Her knees buckled as her hand was paralyzed from maintaining a grip on her sword and shield. She could feel the blood coagulating beneath her armor from wounds received days before now festering into something worse. Words bubbled out of her from her chest as she swore a death to this creature some day. But whether it had left her, she wasn't so certain when her body started to shutdown.

She didn't even know when she hit the ground as that out of body experience began to take place. The streak of lightning flashed before her eyes as the monstrosity of a dragon bailed from their fight, assured that he had sentenced them to an early death. As the sounds rang in her ears from thunder on high, she watched the form of Eleysia become perpetually still beside her alongside Yelena. However, Melek was not within sight of her as her head lulled to the side and wet dirt covered her skin as she had been thoroughly beaten. Rain had fallen on her face and into her eyes, but from the electrical current still keeping her paralyzed, she had no reaction to it. She couldn't blink as her vision became more difficult to see.

Within the edge of her field of view, something dark began to take over the light. It was amorphous at first and she wondered if it was a real image or an illusion. A clawed hand obscured by shadow reached for her and blotted out the rest of the world in a realm of darkness.

To those around her, her body would convulse as if going into a sudden shock before she fell still once more. Her heartbeat now an irregular rhythm as she lay in wait for the dragons to come evacuate her and the remainders of the coalition. The emptiness of awareness was as if she had no existence at all when she was brought into the Medical area with Sir Melek and Dopey.

Living flames, and life blossoms had mended some of her minor injuries until a priestess could take a look at her. Stratogeth's electrical spell held her from examination until it was dispelled and that breastplate was removed. Blood had nearly escaped her entirely on the side as that deep impaled laceration from a glacial spike had re-opened. It stretched from the top of her waist towards her lower breast. The sight had caused panic among the menders as more healers crowded to the use of the light and forced stitches through terribly maimed skin. But all throughout this, there were pleas for Lenora's soul to stay with them. And at this point, how could one tell it was even there?

Color gradually returned to her skin as that breathing continued again after having stopped. It was the only symptom of her life still being availed to her. It was coarse as if someone had her swallow a lump of coal and tried to breathe from the residual smog of dust that covered it.

But soon the tone of the Wife, Aelin could be registered to those with better auditory reception than Lenora.

"Send word to Miss Bee, prepare the medical ward. Jonathan! Yelena was taken to the medical tent. They ain't got enough fucking medics for this!"

It was strange how murky the world was in shadow. There was no light, no hope, nothing. Had there been any semblance of thought, she might have felt pity for letting the others down. For not running when she stood her ground. Questioning the choices she made when there was no direction by their Commander to delay their assault. Burden upon burden would have been taken on by the Squire if only she could speak. If only there were words she could think to even say.

And what would Sir Jonathan say? Sir Adamar? Could they even be proud of this? In the previous battles, there were statements made not to let overconfidence rule her in a fight before it transpired. And she did heed the words of the Knight Captain and tried her best. But even at her best, she fell short. The grief that would have claimed her was also lackluster and gone.

A numb acceptance to the workings of world as her body and belongings were brought back to the Eastern Kingdoms. Even though she was cleaned of her blood and covered in a blanket, there was only the residual scent of water from the rain and sweat that had soaked her. Hands quickly stripped away those armor pieces once more to the bare minimum of cloth beneath her armor. Her shirt was a tattered mess, torn from battle as it hardly covered her stitched side. Bruising had offered a dark complexion on her face from rocks that had hit along her helm, and a bite mark that settled upon her other shoulder from a smaller proto-dragon.

How long would Miss Bee and her staff toil with the unresponsive form of the Squire? Would she be even able to return to Darkshire? What of Dopey and his various injuries? All those souvenirs she had wanted to give to everyone when she got home now lie in wait in various bags brought back with her. And when would the sun rise again for her?... Mentions:

@theborderlandcoalition @valorandvictory @honorablecombat @agilneanrose @adamarmeadowcroft @melekdyneer @sunsandwolves @eleysiastormcrow

[silvia-luna]

✈ - an eye-opening memory for Sphinx!

((OOC: This one might get a bit dark. So content warning: injury, attempted murder))

"Why?"

Sphinx looks at her, his eyes wide. He grasps at his neck as crimson oozes from the wound.

She looks at him, a sickening smile plastered on her face. "For my Master," she laughs, a sickening laugh. She hoists her blade once more into the air. Sphinx summons his shield from thin air. The blade clashes harshly against it. Why? After everything. Why would she betray him? The girl who had been his friend since childhood, the one he loved... the one he mourned for so many years. They had only just been re-united. Yet here she was, attempting to murder him. Why? SHWING! The blade hits his shield again. Sphinx looks up at the cackling woman. He looks at her, desperately trying to find any sign of the one he once knew so well in there...

But all he saw reflected was the eyes of a monster. CLINKANG! The sounds of metal hitting magic rings through the air.

"You can't hide under there forever Sphinx! You're already bleeding out!"

Had they not been friends just moments ago? Adventuring together and talking about their plans together? Why?.. "Why?" he asked her shakily aloud. Her face twisted into a wicked grin. "For Set!"

It hit him all at once. He finally understood. The one he cared for, his friend now turned enemy. She was no longer the girl he once knew, she was a monster of the dark god Set. Nothing more than one of his puppets.

Everything she had told him... her survival in the dark lands of Uruk... what she had done for the nine years he had thought her dead... It was all a lie.

She was not the friend he knew. She was-- "You're the cursed shadow..." he spoke quietly. A cruel laugh filled the air. She raised her blade again. His friend, turned greatest enemy. A prophecy of shadow rings through his mind. A prophecy that was now at hand. "If the Chosen One succeeds in his endeavours, a cursed shadow will emerge from the darkness to destroy him, only death will allow either to fulfil their destiny."

Anger, betrayal, hatred... He raised his blade.

[ovaabibia-s-fanfics]

„Alright, how many injured?“ Asked the commander. „Twenty not hard and eleven hard.“ Answered the medic. „Alright, dead?“ Asked Cody again. „Five, sir.“ Answered Treepwood bitterly. „Copied that, I´m going to report to General.“ Told Cody looking away. He didn´t like talking about losses. About losses on lives. Then he went away.

„Have you seen our General? I´m searching for him for two hours now. Who was with him, who knows where he is?“ He asked very unpatiently. „I lastly saw him on the battlefield, he was on the back.“ Answered Gregor. „Did he come in?“ Asked Cody. He almost shouted the question. „We didn´t see him, sir.“ Answered Gregor. As this words fell, the commander started feeling unwell. ´His General is somewhere out there. Wounded? Dead? AloNE? WITHOUT HELP? BLEEDING OUT? SURROUNDED BY ENEMIES? TORTURED? ALONE? LEFT ALONE? DYING BECAUSE THEY LEFT HIM TO DIE?´ His eyes full of teror looked around. „Capitain, find ten Troopers who are able to come with me. I´m going for General.“ He told his order silently like death. „I´m-“ „YOU´RE NOT COMMING WITH ME, I NEED SOMEONE IN CHARGE HERE IF I WON´T COME BACK!“ Cody yelled on Gregor. In ten minutes, there were ten Troopers. And Cody.

Cody was worried more and more as time passed. Every second was imoprtant. ´Why didn´t I think about it sooner? Why I LEFT HIM ALONE? WHY-´ „Sir, there´s something!“ Shouted someone from the ten. Commander ran. Without thoughts. Yes, it was General. His General Kenobi. His robes soaked with blood. He rushed to him even more. Then he kneeled to him. They had luck, Kenobi clearly wasn´t injured for long. Cody lifted him up a bit and held his hand. „CALL TREEPWOOD! NOW!“ He ordered shouting. He examined him a bit then.

„Treepwood listening.“ Told small hologram. „General Kenobi is badly wounded, come or send a good medic.“ Told Cody. „He has a wound on his chest and is bleeding bladly. He isn´t conscious. Also he is -ehm- beaten up a bit. You know, a bit for him and a lot for anybody else.“ He reported to medic. After that, he turned to his men. „Search why was he there, he can´t be bleeding for long and there must be a reason why he stayed here then.“ He told. „I think I know.“ Told the medic. „Two Brothers are missing.....Someone did a mistake in counting and didn´t count them up.“ „So we have reason. Find them.“

Treepwood came. Troopers were found. Silence as they carried them to the camp. What ifs were in minds.

Many were guarding their General. One of those two Troopers died. One woke up. Kenobi took good care of them ´till he could. But he didn´t wake up that morning. He stayed as he was, breathing but still and frowning from the unbearing pain as he did before. Even after the painkillers. One more day. Yes, they were soon comming away. And Skywalker came, acompanied by his Padawan. When she saw him, she cried. Yes, Ahsoka cried a lot. But her tears didn´t change anything, nor Skywalker´s pleases and screams. Everything stayed still and full of pain. Third day came.

Hum was there. Was he on ship? Or? Everything blurry. Eyelids heavy. A lot of pain. Silence. Someone there. Two someones. Three someones. Maybe four? One holding his right hand. One cuddled next to him. One on chair near there and one standing a bit more away. He slowly tried to open his eyes. His left arm was- Was it wet? Like from water? What was happeneing? Who were those? He opened his eyes finaly. And he remembered. The one holding his hand was Cody. Yes, his good loyal Cody. Never too far from him. He would give him smile if he had the strenght to do it. On his left, there was a teenage girl. A Togruta. Ahsoka. Yes, it was her. On the chair, full of worry and pain? Anakin, his former padawan. Standing somewhere? Rex, the Capitain. Yes. Alright. And what happened?

First to realise that he is awake was Ahsoka. She shifted and sat up. She started stroking his hair. He looked to her eyes. His eyes like glass-made from the fever he for sure had and also from the pain. And he remembered. He wanted to ask if the boys made it, but he couldn´t find his voice. Not even breath. As if she knew, she whispered. „Good job, master Kenobi, you did well.“ Question still there. „You saved them.“ So they survived? He hoped that yes. Cody turned and saw. „It´s good now, rest, you realy need it. Also is it bearable?“ Cody asked softly. „Hm.“ First thing he got from himself. „Gonna be better.“ Cody asured him. „Gonna be fine.“ Rex came and held his left hand. „You already had came thought the worst. Treepwood and Kix...and others had a hard time with you. We all were worried.“ He told.

Ahsoka stood up and went to her master. „Wake up, Skyguy! It´s time to smile.“ She told him. „Shut up.“ „You aren´t nice. Our master is waiting for you, you stubborn martyr.“ She told him. „He- he- He WOKE UP?!“ Anakin shoted in surprise and stood up so fastly, that he almost tossed Ahsoka to ground. „Calm down.“ She told him as if he was her padawan, not vice versa. But he didn´t hear anything. He came to Obi-Wan. „Master? Do you hear me?“ He asked. Rex went back and Anakin sat on the bed, holding his master´s hand. „Hnn“ Tears of happines. „We almost lost our hope, you can´t do this to us!“ Anakin told. „Look at Cody, now he can get some sleep. After THREE days! And look at me and Ahsoka, you owe us two nights of worries.“ He told him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible, if there was any way he could. „Mm“ Sleep now.

[ofmoonlitmagic]

An almost cheshire-like grin spread along his lips in reply, as if to say shutting up would be short-lived. There were more questions than answers between them, covered under a life for a life arrangement, and yet neither seemed prone to offer any answers. Best that way as Briggs saw it. He had an indeterminate amount of time to fill, and if the hunter was going to sit there all broody and conflicted, then somebody had to fill the space with witty remarks and nonsense.

"Just because I wouldn't care doesn't mean you can't share," he offered with a tone of sincerity, giving the illusion his words were nicer than their face value. "It's the baby blue eyes, isn't it? Nothing to be ashamed of, they get a lot of people. Gives a very... innocent vibe." Yeah, he was definitely going to enjoy this too much. In actuality, he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with him specifically, and he just happened to benefit from a moment of hesitation...of weakness.

His gaze shifted to the other, trying to read him and whatever was going on in that head. The walls seemed as impenetrable as his own. Well-practiced probably. "Oh, it's a thing." Truth was subjective, only as honest as the other person believed it was. This battle was exhausting, a re-opening of old wounds, reminders of all the reasons not to trust anybody, so when he could take delight in a moment--even someone else's discomfort--well, that had to be grasped as it came. "Don't say things you don't mean," he quipped, reaching over to hook a finger around the gun and implying he was ready to change the direction, "you could always shoot me now." Giving that a second, he feigned the realization, "oh, but if you shoot me, the illusion fails, and you have to explain how you came out of nowhere. Damn."

Jolting a little at the entry of the 'soldiers', he cursed himself for reacting at all. Especially when he trusted his own spell, and after he'd been talking so much shit before they came through. He found it unnerving to be reminded how many people wanted him dead for simply existing, and despite his magic, he could so easily be outnumbered and...helpless. Again. "You could shoot them," he mumbled, almost a devil on the shoulder of the hunter. That would be something he'd like to see, complete the betrayal against his own full stop.

"Tit for tat. You didn't kill me, I help you not get killed. No debts, we're all squared up." That may have been an oversimplified version, but they weren't having a fully honest conversation. Still on opposing sides, after all. "And it always nice to have a man on the inside. You know, if I have a question." Wearing a smirk, he tilted his head toward his reluctant ally. "You know, watching them doesn't make you more invisible? Relax...and trust thy enemy."

A little scrunch of his nose said he was back on his bullshit. "So, while we're waiting, do you want to share traumas? You go first."

“Shut up” Asher groaned, suppressing a deep sigh into Brigg’s direction as the hybrid made his remark. Although Asher couldn’t be certain as to why Briggs hadn’t just used him as leverage to escape (or at least try to), he was grateful for the fact that he hadn’t. Although, that did mean that Asher would have to suck it up and ride out the snarky comments as they came and he was certain that Briggs had plenty more to pass. For now the hunter simply drew a sharp, prolonged breath before gritting his teeth to refrain from biting back.

He did his best to conceal the fact but Briggs’ inquisition caused for the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end, knowing exactly why he hadn’t killed Briggs, but admitting it would only add fuel to the others fire. The hunter cleared his throat, cautiously with the threat of the OEA still outside before shaking his head “doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t care either way.” 

As the footsteps of the OEA grew closer, Asher's anxiety only grew, but he'd spent twenty seven years masking the emotion, so what harm could a few more minutes cause him? “Yeah, that’s not a thing.” He could sense just how greatly Briggs was beginning to enjoy his annoyance and so he made a conscious effort to recognise that. Another sigh was suppressed and the hunter shifted uncomfortably on the spot, continuing to point his weapon towards the doorway, but he felt confident enough to speak just above a whisper. “You’re really making me regret this."

His gaze narrowed as three hunters then flooded into the room, quick to pull all of their black ops bullshit as the led weapon first, which was embarrassing to see play out in itself. He only recognised one member of the OEA out of three and it wasn't one that he particularly liked. But it was debatable that there weren't many who's company he did enjoy.

The sound of boots on the hard wooden floors continued to creep closer, but eventually the hunters were satisfied that they had cleared the area and after one final sweep, they were bound to retreat. That didn't mean that he and Briggs were in the clear however, as this could just as easily have been a trap for the pair of them.

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned cautiously, not yet having taken his eyes off of their company, but the question was clear towards Briggs. "You could have sold me out. You know as well as I do the punishment for sympathisers." But Asher knew as well as Briggs that if he had sold him out, they'd likely both end up dead.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Remember that old one-shot fic you did

the immortal reader one-

Could you do one with chuuya where he has to watch her dieing and can't do anything to save her memories so when she comes through she has to fall in love again?

ō_ō ニ_ニ ō_ōニ_ニ ō_ōニ_ニ ō_ōニ_ニ ō_ōニ_ニ ō_ōニ_ニ ō_ōニ_ニō_��

The pain I suffer from just reading this request. My dear Anon, the pure amount of angst that is going into this is not for the weak of heart. I fear you XD. Anyway, I am going to add a happy twist.

Chuuya X Reader

Love’s Corruption

Words: 2215

Every life has a beginning and an end.

Every start has an end.

Life is meant to be a flower consumed by the wheel of life. You grow to be beautiful than wither, growing old till death after producing new life or raising life. It wasn’t meant to be like the leaves on trees. Forever returning. No matter how many times you crumble to the floor there will always be re-birth. A new start with the same self and body.

It wasn’t fair to those who loved you. It was never fair for you to grow close and die within the arms of those who you cherished. Then again, when was life ever fair? When was life fair for anybody?

Brisks of winter carried in the open air, the slam of bodies going down onto the pavement, crushed under gravity. Restraint still evident on the male’s face. Threatening to let himself fill with complete rage and succumb to the depth of his ability. His thoughts pointed anger at himself, and at Mori for admitting he knew you’d probably die. He was mad that nobody, not even you, saw a problem with that. With you dying. So what if you come back? So what if you didn’t really die? You still lost your memories! All the laughter, the joyful cheers, the sorrow, it all disappeared with your next life. It was hard to kill you due to regeneration, he knew that. Yet there was still a chance… one day the bullets may come too fast, too many all at once, poisoned. Even Mori had said your abilities information had been leaked, that you would most likely die, it all came down to your skill. You knew, perhaps that’s why it hurt so much to be so late to you. You knew the danger but you went anyway. Stupidly loyal, as loyal as he. You truly believe they wouldn’t use you to the extent you were no longer usable. You were an idiot… but didn’t that make him an even bigger idiot?

So many thoughts weigh down on his conscious mind. So many irreversible thoughts. The enemies were all taken care of, why had they not sent him? He’d have dealt with this, no casualties for the Mafia. Why did it have to be you? He went further into the twisting overgrown bushes, walked faster, killed more, he searched up and down until the entire quarters of this damned underground organization were coated in the blood of its members. Those who may have taken his one and only away.

In one building, the third to last on the list, with the wind rushing past his face, still, only when his feet entered the house did all those thoughts come to a halt. The entire world seemed to be gone. All but three people remained. The person who shot you still shaking in fear, you, his sense of pride and joy, and him. When he noticed the man was alive his face contorted to rage. Slamming a foot onto the man's head. Enough to hurt but not to kill. “What did you shoot them with!” His lips pulled into a sneer. That man did not answer so Chuuya pulled him to the ground further. His foot was standing to crush the man's fingers. “I asked you, What the fuck you shot them with!” the man only smiled as he took his last breath. Furious he kicked the wall pacing around before he heard your soft, whispery voice.

“Chu?” His knees buckled, collapsing over you. His hands pulling beneath you. He could tell your body was trying terribly to heal your wounds. The headshots, the ones to your throat. All lethal shots, but not lethal that they would kill you right away. They would knock you out for a bit before you had enough collection to wake up and fight back. Weakly that tender hand of yours lifted to his cheek. “Don’t…. Cry…”

Chuuya shook his head letting his usually neat locks of ginger flow freely, strands of frizz and unkempt curls, as he brought you closer to his chest. “You’re okay, right? I’ll take you to Mori and-”

“Chuuya… I’m dying… I can't heal with the poison in my system.” Chuuya tightened his hold on you, unable to prevent his ability's impulse to crush the floor beneath him.

“No, we’ll fix this!” you shook your head, weak but conscious enough to give a last request.

“Chuuya, I was shot 23 times all lethally and all poisoned. I can't keep the wounds closed long enough to heal completely… I can’t keep it away from affecting my heart for much longer. Once my body shuts down. I’m gone, I’ll probably be out for a month, maybe two. During that time, like a clock being reset, everything will dissolve and I’ll wake up again… But Chu...” he covered your mouth, letting down his pride to cry in front of you.

“Stop… don’t say it… don’t tell me you’ll forget about me… please.” It wasn’t good if you also got emotional. You fought, but the tears still came.

“Chu, I don’t want my next life to be in the darkness. Runaway with me. Build out a new life outside the Mafia… This world did this to us.” Chuuya froze, his loyalty to the Mafia suddenly put in question. You’d promised him to never make him choose his loyalties… you had promised him. “I always remember the scene of my death, the sounds come to me at times, but never the faces or names, only the words, and feelings.” He remembered you explaining this one day when he’d asked. The guilt that he’d even thought about betraying your final wish overtaking him.

“I’d be betraying them… I…” You laughed lightly, running your bloody fingers through his hair.

“They betrayed-” you cringed as coughs racked your body, blackened blood spilling from your mouth. You were not healing because you couldn’t dissolve the effects of the poison while healing injuries and recirculating your blood flow. Chuuya leaned you over, hitting your back to clear your lungs. He watched you strain to close the wound that had opened by simply breathing. Sweat formed as you drained your energy. The second you pass out, you die. The second you die, you live, but forget. It scared you, never had it felt so terrifying. Leaving behind the memories of the dark age, the memories of feeling like a real human being. The memories of loving Chuuya... When the coughs stopped and you could breathe regularly, you took a deep inhale. “They betrayed you first. Mori knew, yet he told you not to come after me, right? You disobeyed to save me. They want to restart my memory… I’m sorry, but I don't want to be the puppet under a master. Feeling free, being happy only to live this cycle over and over again.”

It finally clicked in Chuuya’s mind. A year ago, a friend, or rather, somebody you had both come to see as a friend, had simply disappeared after the death of a member. He knew the ex-executive had been close to that male. Had he been asked by that man, who did not kill, to leave? “I’ll leave with you, we’ll live a simple life… just you and me…” he watched you smile, rubbing away his tears as you grew paler and your eyes began dropping, your breathing no longer clean. The raspy inhales and shaky exhales plaguing his mind.

“Thank… you.” Sound faded from your head before the depths of nothing took over your mind. The familiar scene before you. The truest form of your ability taking on. A blank space of light fading into darkness as you fell into water, drowning, head-splitting in pain. Your hand reaching out to grasp laughter and smiles as they faded away and left you.

Chuuya pressed your face to his chest, he held you close to him. He screamed, letting everything crash beneath his rage. He let all of the things he held back in your last moment go. Your words echoing in his mind. Hadn’t the boss promised him he’d never use you like this? Hadn’t he been ensured he wouldn’t lose another person? Even Ane-san had said she’d never let something happen to you. Yet, your body was cold, devoid of life. It would be this way for an unknown amount of time. It would be ages until you came back to life.

He hated it, carrying your body to an alleyway. Holding it light upon his back as he called a number he’d thought he’d never want or need to call again. He hated asking for favors, having to owe people. As he expected, it rang and rang until going to voicemail. He didn’t bother, instead, calling again. Glaring at his phone, when he was sent to voicemail, he searched you for your phone. Though it was splashed with blood, it appeared to work just fine. It wasn’t unexpected for the male to accept this call. “Ah, Y/n-chan! A pleasant surprise you hardly call me these days! You’re so busy with-”

“Dazai…” Chuuya interrupted him. Letting your body slide down to rest limply against the wall as he collapsed. This was the only connection he had… the only way he knew he would be able to leave. “Don’t… please don’t hang up." When the line didn't go dead Chuuya felt a sliver of hope.

“Chuuya, why are you calling me from their phone?” You sound like you’ve had quite the day today… are you drunk, ah no, are you both drunk?” Dazai had no idea how could he? He left, maybe you'd still be… no, he couldn’t blame anybody but himself for being too slow to find you.

“No… I…” Could he even say it? He knew it, but could he admit it? Didn’t saying it to somebody mean admitting you were… this version of yourself was gone forever? Shit, he’d started crying again. He tried and tried not to. He couldn’t show this in front of Dazai. He couldn't be weak. But you were right there, limp and lifeless. When you became a being of life again, you wouldn’t remember him. You wouldn't love him anymore.

“Chuuya… a-are you crying?” Was his shock genuine? Then again, Dazai never had the pleasure of seeing him in tears.

“N-no!” Chuuya trailed off leaning over himself with a heavy whimper. “M-maybe… listen, I need… I need a favor… for… for Y/n…” When Dazai heard the name leave the boy's lips, there was silence.

“I’ll text my address… you can leave them there.”

“No! I promised… I...” This was the last person he wanted to be saying this to. “I’d go with them… they said… they didn't… Mori he...” Why was it so hard? Hadn’t he already let all his feelings go? Hadn’t he already accepted this?

“Alright, then you can both crash with me. I’ll pull some strings to get your pasts completely clean from the book. Then when it’s clear, we’ll go our ways again… do you need somebody to come get you… both of you?” Chuuya nodded, grumbling a reply as he leaned against the wall, keeping his legs pulled to his chest. The shock that Dazai had agreed, settling in with far too much weight.

~

It took a while to get used to it, walking to check up on your limp figure, rooming with Dazai, having to deal with him and his slob habits. He had the audacity to play the bitch card when he was using Chuuya’s money. He bought, with the help of an old friend, to keep their address from the mafia, a small home. Three bedrooms, a kitchen, living rooms, two baths. It wasn’t what he was used to, no penthouse, but it was comfortable.

A month slowly turned into two, and into three, until half a year had passed. That half-year period had been agonizing... Until you woke up, eyes unfocused and lost. Your only knowledge lands in your ability and name. Past unknown, location unknown, the person rushing in, unknown but familiar.

Just as he promised, he let you live happily. You often bickered around with the two boys. Scolding them for fighting as if they were children. Though you often smiled fondly. A sense of familiarity and loathing in your chest. Dazai’s condition for keeping things a secret and letting Chuuya do this was he came and joined the Agency with him, of course, that included you.

The days were long, but eventually, that old feeling would rise, and that day, being held in your last breaths would be clearer. The words exchanged were unforgettable. One day you’d be in love again. One day you and Chuuya would kiss again. He’d see your embarrassed face, he’d see your temperament and your soft expressions. He’d be the center of your love again.

No matter how many lifetimes you live and take on you never truly change. The personality, the true you is always there. It may have taken years, but your lips on his were sweet and familiar. “I love you, Chuuya.”

His eyes glimmered as he spun you to him tightly. Keeping you close, as if he’d lose you again. “I love you, Y/n.”