#they’re insane there’s blood there’s holding each others hand over a blade as it stabs someone

[yea-baiyi]

YALL. everyone go watch story of kunning palace i swear it’s worth it im still riding an insane high after i finished it last night.

it’s a very good solid drama for 30 episodes kinda slow burn but well written with good characters and decent plots.

and then in the last 8 episodes, the guy’s sidekick tells him “maybe you should show her how you really feel. show her the real you” and he proceeds to go batshit feral insane. which after watching her pine after and then reject the most morally upright guy ever it fucking WORKS ON HER because she is ALSO insane!!

after that it’s just 8 episodes of him being sloppy desperate for her and begging her to give him an answer while she’s just there buffering because she has to readjust her whole worldview with this news that he’s liked her all along?? she went out to meet her former crush and when she got home he sat her down and made her eat a dinner he made. that was drowning in vinegar. because if he had to drink vinegar then SO SHOULD SHE. and after she doesn’t eat much at dinner he plops down a tray of her favourite cake. that he had given her before earlier in the drama. announces that he made it with his own hands. and she’s like :0 “you made it for me even back then?? but back then we were only….” and he’s immediately like “only? only what? what were we back then? what about now? is it different now? what are we?” and she’s just like .

[dearabby1990]

Twd Daryl Dixon- In a world of our own Chapter 1: Scavenging

Your POV: Before the fall you lived in Virginia helping your family run the pizzeria your grandfather owned. The day it all went to shit you were on your way to go pick up supplies for the days batch of dough when you heard screaming from the other side of the grocery store seeing a man take a huge bite out of the woman in the produce section was something that made your blood run cold. Fight or flight kicking into your system you bolted for your car leaving everything behind to goto your family. Upon pulling up the the shop it was completely overran by what at the time you thought were insane cannibals of some sort. That was until you saw your Nonna come up to the car looking like something out of a horror film as she tried to reach in and take a bite out of your arm your scream slamming your foot on the gas. You drove until you almost ran out of gas helping yourself at an abandoned gas station a few towns over. Ever since then you’ve kept moving never staying in one spot too long as you never felt safe because it’s just you. With your dads shotgun & a handmade weapon you made out of a baseball bat & some saw blades & scavenging a nice knife set. Your car has held up pretty well taking parts & stealing gas from abandoned vehicles & shops that was until you were digging for supplies one day & a board broke its was through the store you were in running to your car you see it’s fully surrounded leaving you no option but to abandon it. That leads you to now you’re making your way through the woods it’s dark out & you’re looking for somewhere to hole up for the night. You hear something a bit away not the groaning of the dead but what sounds like actual people. Being weary you quietly make your way closer to inspecting what’s going on. You’re hit with the site of men beating on one man a kid being pinned by a fat man and an other man holding someone at gun point. What really got you to jump into action was watching how the fat man started to unbuckle his belt above the boy you spring from behind a tree swinging your bat straight into his head dropping him straight to the ground without anyone noticing telling the boy to stay quiet you creep up behind the man with the gun & stab him right through his temple the man on his knees in complete shock & that’s when you kick the gun towards the man on the ground & you both go after the small group stomping on what looks to be one person. After they’re all down you go over to the boy “hey kid are you okay?” He shakes his head teary eyed “thank you for saving us” “don’t sweat it I’d hope someone do the same for me sometimes the people in this world are worse then the draggers” the two men come over to you one extends his hand “the name is Rick Grimes thank you for helping my son & me & my brother” “no problem really… but it is pretty dark y’all be safe I can’t stick around waiting for draggers to come piling out from somewhere” Rick gave you a confused stare “Draggers??.” “Yeah them dead bastards eating each other??” He nods while the man behind him fiddles with his crossbow “well we have a community you don’t have to be alone if you don’t wanna be.. this is my son Carl & my brother Daryl but before I tell you anymore I have to ask you three questions” you stare at him eyes wide like an owl “community? How in a world like this?? & okay shoot cowboy” “how many walkers have you killed?” “Y’all count them bastards I don’t know a lot been on my own this whole time” “okay… how many people have you killed?” “Three besides these assholes” “why?” You stared at your feet before looking back up at them “because they tried to do something terrible to me & if I didn’t kill them they were definitely gonna kill me when they were finished” Rick didn’t need to hear another word after that he knew what you were implying. Those men were going to assault you & leave you for dead & the fact that you lasted this long alone had all three males shocked. “Okay we’ll you can come with us we’ll find somewhere safe for the night & head back to Alexandria by morning”.

Walking for what feels like about an hour as the four of you stumble across a cabin covered in overgrowth. You’re the first to tap the butt of your knife against a windowpane looking back at the three males & giving them the go ahead that it’s clear as Rick & Daryl head inside to check the rooms & you & Carl start checking for anything you all could use for the night finding a nice haul of food & medicine & then upon prying an odd door open you realize it’s an pantry completely full seeing a few bags of Doritos you smile grabbing one of them & turning to Carl “hey kid” he looks up at you & sees what you have & you watch his face light up & toss them to him “have at or & come check this out” he rips open the bag & starts to make his way over “Woah look at all this stuff we could definitely use a lot of this stuff for back home everybody will be excited to see more food” you rest a hand on his shoulder “don’t worry I know a spot with a crap ton of food & supplies I just need a vehicle I lost my nonno’s car awhile back hoard of draggers swarmed it I had no choice but to leave it” “Nonno?” You laugh “yeah it’s Italian for grandfather my grandparents were more my parents I lost my mom when I was young & my dad isn’t the best person to be around he wasn’t very nice to me so that’s why I was raised by them… you’re lucky you know?.. even in a world like this to have a dad as wonderful as yours he’s already done more for me in less then a day then my father has my entire life” little did you know Daryl was silently listening to you & Carl talking he thought you were just some typical woman but now he’s starting to see you aren’t much different from each other. Rick is busy starting a fire & you and Carl are in the kitchen you found some canned potatoes & a few cans of spam digging in your bag to pull out one of the jelly burners you have & finding a frying pan in one of the cabinets “hey Jamie what’s that thing your lighting?” Carl looks down at you confused “oh it’s a jelly burner before the fall people used these for like holiday dinners or banquet halls use them to keep food hot but they burn hot enough to cook on plus they can burn for up to 6 hours so you can always snuff it out & save it for another time” he crouched down beside you watching everything you did & sees some braided materials hanging from your bag “these are cool what are they?” You pick one off & hand it to him “keychains I made with glass noodles if you want I can teach you I was also in the scouts can show you knots & other things we took archery & shooting lessons & had wilderness survival training I think it’s why I was okay this long alone I just don’t like being completely isolated from people tends to take a toll on ya but I can teach you how to spear fish & hunt as long as it’s okay with your dad?” You say loud enough for Rick to hear which he smiles & nods in return “wow you’re probably one of the coolest girls I know besides michonne” you look at him with furrowed brows “michonne?” He smiles endearingly “yeah she’s… she’s my step mom i guess you could say I lost my mom too after she had my sister & then dad met michonne & now we’re a little family well our whole little group is family & now you are too” you smile at him eyes watering you don’t want them to see you break so you make an excuse to collect yourself checking out one of the bedrooms as the food cooks finding some cigarettes & a bottle of whiskey you toss into your bag you look at yourself noticing that your clothes are worse for wear your covered in dirt and blood & whatever else Mother Nature threw your way so you decide to at least change your shirt & pants. Pulling out your last pair of jeans & a black button down with your brown combat boots just as you’re grabbing your shirt Daryl enters to let you know he’s got & skinned a rabbit to go with dinner but his words die in his throat as he sees the marks that littler your body some look like scars others like burns you notice him standing there & gasp quickly covering the rest of yourself & he quick shuts the door.

Coming out of the room you try not to look anyone in the eyes out of embarrassment what if he told them what he saw? You finish cooking & set the table with what dishes you could find all sitting down silently eating you finish up going to your room to grab the whiskey you found earlier & grabbed coffee mugs filling them & handing Rick & Daryl one lifting your glass “to living to fight another day & to falling in shit to come up smelling like roses” Rick chuckled “here here” you all toss your drinks back & pour seconds. Digging into your pockets digging out your cigarettes & zippo making your way to the door before Daryl gets your attention “hey..” you look over your shoulder at him “hmm?” He stands up slowly making his way to you “uh you got a nother one of those?” You smile nodding & gesturing towards the door. He follows you out & you light yours passing him one & offering to light it for him just as you spark the lighter & he takes a drag you see just how blue his eyes are almost getting lost in them before quickly looking away trying not to be to obvious of your staring. “Thanks” “no problem here take this pack I have another anyway” he grunts as a thank you shifting his feet to lean against the wall outside you plop down in the grass looking up at the stars it’s one of the things that helps center you because no matter how shitty the world may be the sky stays just as beautiful as it ever did feeling envious of how brightly they shined wishing it was possible to dance amongst them. Knowing everyone you love is already up there hopefully peacefully waiting. Daryl taking in your form studying your face even covered in dirt and blood he can tell your beautiful even if you don’t feel like you are. Your scars being your biggest insecurity & that you’re not thin like the models you used to stare at in the magazines you’d see in stores before the earth fell to pieces. You both make your way back inside Daryl taking the couch Rick & Carl in the bedroom with bunk beds & you taking the spare room “you know you don’t have to sleep on that lumpy ass couch there’s plenty of room in there & I promise I don’t bite” he scoffs “nah it’s alrigh’ I’m good right here used to being in cramped space’s anyway from huntin” kicking off his boots to lay down and rest his hands across his chest not seeing the look of rejection & hurt on your face. Who were you kidding he’s gorgeous & well you’re just you. Not having the heart to say another word in fear of crying in front of him you bite your bottom lip turning away from him just as he goes to look at you to see why you’re so silent all of a sudden you walk straight back to the room not even turning to shut the door but simply using the back of your boot to push it shut not wanting anyone to see you. You’ve always had way too much pride to ever let anyone know they’ve upset you or hurt your feelings. Something you had to teach yourself due to your abusive father wanting reactions out of you after physically or emotionally ripping you apart. You sink sitting on the bed kicking your shoes off grabbing one of the pillows & sleeping curled up silent tears leaving clean streaks down your dirt covered face. Daryl lays on the couch wondering why you’d ask him to lay down in the same bed as you. No woman has ever asked him that before & he had it drilled into him by his father & merl that nobody would ever want him in any sense especially romantically. He thinks maybe you feel sorry for him & he sure hates pity from anyone. Why would you want him to sleep next to you he was a trailer park redneck. Little did he know you really did fancy him. You thought he was beautiful, broken but beautifully broken in a way that made your heart race the second you saw his face & got a good look into his eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING. You’re woken up by the sound of a soft knock on the door. “Yeah?” You hear feet shuffle “are you decent?” You head Carl ask you giggle “yeah come on in” with that he opens the door & comes & sits next to you on the bed as you shuffle getting your boots on he takes in the clean streaks that have dried on your face analyzing you "heyy.. were you... Crying?" You shug "I'm okay" he hums & then answers "I know we just met & everything but I'm here if you ever wanna talk I'm a great listener" you give him a half smile "thanks Carl" fixing his hat for him "I'll go get a damp rag so you can wash up I can tell you don't wanna talk about it right now so best clean up the evidence" he gets up & leaves the room as you look into the dusty mirror to see that you can indeed tell youve been upset. You sigh waiting patiently Carl comes back & you stick out your hand to which he swats away making you flinch a bit "please let me it's the least I can do for saving us" you roll your eyes & nod letting him gently rest a finger under your chin starting to wipe your cheeks clean. "there good as new" you smile at him "thanks bud i appreciate your kindness you definitely take after your dad i can tell" he chuckles & waives you to follow him "time to head out we need some more supplies from somewhere before heading home" you both grab your bags & head out. You don't even spare Daryl a glance looking at your feet as you step outside not saying a single word "she alright?" Asks Rick "she will be" Carl nods & smiles heading outside Daryl in a world of his own not even paying attention to your deflated frame at least not until you all start walking "Rick?" "Yeah?" "I know a place with a lot you could use it's about three miles east though" he looks at both men "how much stuff we talking about here?" You turn looking only at him "enough to last well through the winter if your community is as big as i think it is" ricks face lights up "well lead the way". Walking you stick tight next to Carl & Rick & Daryl not too far behind. "Now I'm not too sure if the truck is still at this place but if by chance it is & nobody has stolen it's gas should be a full tank in there just haven't had the heart to go back there until now hopefully with you guys I can do this & we can help each other" Rick walks faster catching up with you "so you've been here many times?" You smile at the memory of once was "it's my grandparents restaurant... The restaurant itself probably has nothing that's not spoiled by now but we're not getting supplies from that area anyway..my nonno he has a shelter he built after 9/11 he got really paranoid about being attacked as a whole so he built a bomb shelter has a lot we could use we filled it with stuff weekly for years I just have to make a pit stop upstairs in the apartment I have some personal things I want to grab before we head out" Rick seems pleased at your information meanwhile Daryl & Carl are a little behind you both chatting amongst each other "so wha' was goin' on earlier she really alrigh'?" Carl sighs "not too sure she didn't want to talk about it but she was definitely upset about something had dried tear stains on her face I felt bad figured maybe she's scared or something" "nah people like her don't scare easy there no way missin family maybe but scared I can't see it". Watching the sun hit high noon you finally see your destination your heart heavy at the last time you were here. Remembering the way it all went down Carl's voice pulls you out of your thoughts "y/n's Italiano bistro? They named it after you?" You smile with pride being the only grandchild had loads of perks being your grandparents world being one of them just as they were yours. You take them around the back to the storm cellar opening the padlock & leading them inside

Walking them to the back you’re met with a bookshelf you start pushing out of the way with carls help revealing a door made of ship steel you put the pin in the door & reveal a large room filled with everything one could possibly need or want “Rick there’s old milk crates up front to use to load things im going upstairs for a few things” “Daryl why don’t you go with her” slinging his crossbow over his shoulder he follows behind you as you head to the stairs the lead to the apartment once shared with your grandparents. Opening the door you see everything is just as it was the day you left. Like a mini time capsule of everything beautiful in your life now gone frozen in time. Daryl looks at the family photos on the wall one in particular catching his attention causing him to chuckle “this you?” Turning to see is a photo of 10 year old you covered head to toe in mud with your best friend Charlene “yup first successful hunting trip without help from nonno he was proud but most definitely mad he only got a rabbit & I hit me a 200 pound buck” you head to your old room grabbing your spear & found nonno’s 357 huckleberry rifle putting it on the kitchen counter before pulling out the last 2 bottles of makers mark & a cigar box stuffing it in your bag & snagged a few photos too “ready?” He grunts & leads the way back downstairs. You twirl the truck keys on your finger before tossing them to Rick “you drive I’ll start loading up” grabbing crates you scurry outside the feeling of Daryl’s eyes burning into you making you more embarrassed about last night. They all come with the rest of the stuff & you jump into the back “only three seats up there I’m used to sitting back here no biggie” you see the confusion on their faces but plop down before anyone can protest “you sure I can sit back there y/n?” Carl offers “yeah I’m sure I’ll be alright” you pull the doors shut sittings with your thoughts wondering what the future will hold & if Alexandria is the place for you. The ride stretches for what feels to be hours as you prop yourself & drift off to sleep At the rocking of the truck on the dirt roads. Maybe this place will be good for you god only knows.

[americachavez]

did cas really tell dean to kneel before their new god? did that actually happen? i thought him beating the shit out of dean in that alley was the most unrestrainedly horny thing this show had ever done ACTUALLY you know what scratch that new question: top horny moments from the cw's supernatural (2005 - 2020)

getting this ask feels like my sins of the last week have been weighed against the Trials I Have Gone Through since the premier of supernatural on the wb in september of 2005 and I’m not sure if it is a punishment or reward

some notes before we begin:

the ep with dean’s male siren was like, conceptually horny but not actually that horny because the dude was uglie. I’m sorry to this man

all you sam girls out there. I respect you but I do not respect jared padalecki who is JUST tall and has zero sex appeal. but those eps where he’s like, drinking ruby’s blood and then eating her pussy are. you know. I’ll give you that

I am ONLY UP TO SEASON 10 so fair warning this is not comprehensive but the horniness does seem to drop off sharply after the mark of cain is no longer in play lol gotta love a good demon murder tattoo plot

this is easily the most insane thing I’ve ever done, including the destiel manifesto

S1 EP12: the scene where dean gets healed by the faith healer, on his knees with a hand in his hair and looking somewhere between religious ecstasy, brain death and an orgasm. starting this list off great

S1 EP22: azazel possessing john winchester. no I will not explain further if u know u know <3

S3 EP10: dean being taunted by a dream version of himself, this is where we first got the daddy’s blunt little instrument line. still burned in my hippocampus a good 13 years later thank yew

S4 EP1: dean crawling out of his own grave covered in grave dirt. hot. the HANDPRINT. HOT. also tangent but this reveal after the s3 finale was WILD back in 2008 I hollered in my dorm room after canvassing for obama. simpler times man

S4 EP 1: cas’ intro scene. the barn. the shadow wings. the hair??? getting stabbed in the chest by the man you just pulled out of hell. getting aaaallll up in that personal space. his little eyebrow. “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” OUTRAGEOUSLY FLAMING

S4 EP02: “I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in.” <<< this angel tops. mark dean down as scared and horny etc

S4 EP16: this ENTIRE EPISODE but specifically the part where dean tortures alastair as some kind of foreplay and then alastair kicks his ass. carved you into a new animal. jesus.

S4 EP16: wait I forgot about the part where cas also gets his ass kicked and looks all....hm. dazed and covered in blood while he’s on his knees and about to die. yeah.

S5 EP4: I mean this entire ep is unfairly horny considering everyone is dying of a zombie plague and hasn’t showered in like, 4 years but if I had to pick one hmmm. the dean/dean interrogation scene with the panty kink yeah I know it’s not original but hm. it happened. also misha collins just being able to convey that CAS IS A FLEXIBLE SLUT with a single roll of his shoulders. who SAYS this man can’t act!!!!!

S5 EP18: the ALLEY SCENE. DEAN DOESN’T FIGHT BACK. CAS HOLDS HIM UP OFF THE GROUND AND THEN THROWS HIM ACROSS THE ALLEY. WHY DID EVERYONE THINK CAS COULDN’T TOP. you all had brainworms.

S5 EP18: when cas locks dean in the panic room to stop him from saying yes to michael and “well cas not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” I hate this show. wait I think the blow me cas line is in this episode too what the fuck were they on here

S6 EP5: the scene where dean gets turned into a vampire. between the old dude who I think calls dean a pretty boy (??) and soulless sam....watching??? no ******* but there were just some absolutely foul energies in that scene and I still do not understand WHAT they were thinking

S6 EP20: cas doing a double smite on two demons by slamming them to the ground and then shoving another demon back in its vessel and then smiting him in the same motion. TOP. ENERGY.

S6 EP22: season 6 is possibly cas’ horniest season because he’s like, going through angel puberty after getting his first boner for dean, but the final cas eps are. whoof. cas eats a bunch of souls and proclaims himself to be a new god in order to handle said boner, and then the season ends with cas telling them to bow down and profess their love to him, their new lord, or he will destroy them. note: the way this is framed makes it look like cas is only staring at dean while he says this, even though sam and bobby are also there. the season ends with dramatic zooms on both cas and dean’s faces respectively. this made me actively regret ditching this show after s5 lol

S8 EP??: literally EVERY SINGLE PURGATORY FLASHBACK. cas dean and benny are all purgatory hot in the “pop 10 cranberry pills and risk the UTI” kind of way but also. dean being the hot girl bottom between two tops who hate each other. I really. whew. I need to go take a shower.

S8 EP17: if I get canceled for including the crypt scene on this list I blame you bud. but dean on his knees begging a brainwashed cas to stop killing him WAS sexy. how many times has dean been on his knees in this list wait there’s another one coming up next jsldjfsldkjf

S9 EP2: abaddon getting dean on his knees (YEAH) and pulling his hair and praising him for always coming when called HELLO???? the only thing that ruins this is dean says “I can’t tell if we’re gonna fight or make out” because this is the CW and they won’t let him say fuck

S9 EP6: ah. this entire episode is Emotionally Horny but the horny horny part is when they’re in the car and dean is telling cas to unbutton his shirt and. watches. I know this was on my destiel manifesto but I need it here too

S9 EP9: cas, covered in blood, slitting another angel’s throat and eating his grace after getting tortured. that shot alone made me understand why this website was so goddamn horny for misha collins for nearly a damn decade

S9 EP11: MARK OF CAIN BABEY. cain watching dean beat up a bunch of demons as an audition for taking on the mark, while crowley also is a fucking voyeur to the whole thing. cain is also a hot silver fox with daddy energies. I said what I said

S9 EP 16: dean getting the first blade. he’s chained to a pillar and being menaced by a foppish dandy who wants to add him to his “collection” (WOW). dean then kills him with the blade and whew. murder is sexy sometimes

S9 EP21: dean being pinned against a wall by abaddon’s power, then using the mark of cain to break her hold, calling the first blade to him psychically and then killing her. god the mark of cain is hot

S9 EP23: dean waking up with the demon eyes NUT

S10 EP2: demon dean beating up that dude with the boring backstory and kicking his ass. really was a go on baby I got your flower moment because I hated that dude and I love demon dean

S10 EP3: demon dean being chained up and taunting sam about how his brother is gone, then hunting sam through the bunker. demon dean in general was VERY fun for me, someone who loves trash

S10 EP9: dean going berserk and killing a bunch of pedophile rapists/child abusers. I’m sorry I know this show is trying to preach morality at me about monsters and unnecessary murder and humanity or whatever but we blew past that like 8 SEASONS AGO. also the mark of cain is sexy

S10 EP14: the rest of this list is really gonna be mark of cain stuff isn’t it look I’m here to have fun. cain and dean’s fight. cain continuously tossing his mane of hair back and taunting dean with the picture of what he’s going to become, who he’s going to kill. dean begging cain to tell him that he can stop, and then ultimately killing him. rip daddy.

S11 EP4: again I have not watched this however. every shot of this episode is PRESTIGE TELEVISION because driving a muscle car is sexy. and especially the shot of dean all beat to hell and begging his car to start and giving her a little kiss from his fingers to her dash. ugh. masculinity.

S12 EP10: the bearded salt-and-pepper daddy look returns, only it’s an angel this time and he’s wearing a vest and shirtsleeves and he swordfights with a hot redheaded lady in a suit and an eyepatch. this show is good sometimes!!! and oh fuck lol I just realized this is the same guy who played krissy’s hot hunter dad in s7 probably the first guy who’s hotter as an angel than a hunter. huh.

S12 EP 11: dean riding larry the mechanical bull to “broomstick cowboy.” I have no idea where this factors into the ep but I have seen. the youtube clip

S13 EP23: from what I can tell s13 is way more emotionally horny than boner horny, although dean burning cas’ body was sexy. but the horniest part was dean saying yes to michael and then michael taking over and saying “thanks for the suit.” we are going to ignore the silliest fight scene in existence as well as the final shot ending on a FREEZE FRAME like a goddamn tiktok

S14: not gonna pick a specific moment because I have not watched yet!!! but michael dean is hot. idk why michael is weirdly hot and I cannot stand any iteration of lucifer on this television programme. it should be the reverse but I’m forever an older sibling stan apparently. someone who is catholic could probably explain this better.

S15 EP13: genevieve padalecki and danneel ackles fight flirting as ruby and anael I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY HELD OUT ON THIS TILL THE LAST SEASON

I know I am missing things but this is already an absolutely incomprehensible screed. I know I’m missing shit from the latter seasons but give me time I’m pacing myself

[tlou2holland]

Joel x reader (Pt 4)

Summary: You sneak out of Jackson and worry Joel 

warnings: some cursing, killing of infected 

you can read the previous parts here

The rest of your night is spend hidden away in your home, thoughts racing and keeping you from any sleep. Are you and Joel in a relationship? Although the thought scares you, you like how it sounds in your mind. Boyfriend and Girlfriend. Who would have thought that dating in the apocalypse is still nerve wrecking and scary? You always thought that if you meet someone you like, you’d be together and that’s it. Nowadays is not the time for tiptoeing around and playing games, given that you could die any day. But you and Joel are not official, and only stand at the beginning of god knows what. Do you want to be official with him? Face the judgement of others and live under pressure of having to make it work? You don’t know, another question about Joel you can´t find an answer to. You just know that he likes you, finally, after four years of playful flirting and hidden glances. You toss in your bed and hug the covers close up to your chin, nose poking out so you can breathe. You almost got intimate with Joel, if it wasn’t for Tommy to walk in on you. You just hope he keeps his mouth shut, to talk with Joel about it would be embarrassing enough. But how did all of this happen? How long has he liked you, too? And what made him make a move on you? Jesse and Dina would tease the shit out of you if they knew about your little fling with Joel, but you don’t want to tell anyone, at least not yet. What if Joel changes his mind and suddenly doesn’t want you anymore? You wouldn’t be ready for the rejection, less everyone knowing about it. But you doubt that Joel would reject you, he looked at you in a way only few men looked at you before, and never did it feel so good to you. He wants you, and it makes you insanely giddy and happy. Joel really wants you.

Once your mind grows tired and your body becomes heavy, time passes faster and you awake the next day, feeling truly rested for once. Having no duties or meetings planned, you lazily stretch and yawn, running a hand over your sleepy face. You could stay in bed and let the day slide away, or take a walk and do whatever afterwards. So you get up and quickly wash yourself, eating an apple in between. Your jacket keeps you warm as you leave your house, the people in Jackson already wide awake and moving around. You see Marcus along with some of his friends moving a load of vegetables towards the kitchens. Maria quickly walks past you and just waves, a map and pencil in her hands. You watch her walk towards Tommy´s and hers house, Tommy already standing outside the porch with a mug in his hands. You quickly turn around and walk the opposite way, feet carrying you towards the east gate where you slip past and dip into the woods. You won’t stroll too far away, having only your knife and no gun with you. You just want to find something nice to decorate your home with. Maybe a rock or even flowers, depending on what would cross your path. You inhale the crisp air and observe the ground, seeing traces imprinted into the wet mud. You wrinkle your forehead and lean down, fingers touching the earth. It still moves around and squeezes to the side at your touch, so the trace is fresh. It almost looks like some kind of hoof, maybe from a deer or moose. You decide to follow it and rub the dirt between your fingers until it dries and dusts off. It’s been ages since you’ve last seen a moose, and the thought of maybe finding one excites you. You carefully creep through the woods, eyes still stuck on the trace while your ears listen for any unusual sounds. But there’s nothing, just your own breathing and munching of footsteps in the ground. Peaceful, you think. You find comfort in silence, and turn your thoughts off for once as you concentrate on finding the majestic animal. After wandering around and loosing the trace a couple of times, you finally find it again. Footsteps? You tilt your head and count the imprints. The hoofs are still there, but next to it are footsteps, the imprint of the sole clearly visible. You frown and grab your knife, hiding in the safety of trees as you continue your way, eyes now looking around with caution. As much as you’d like to, you can´t trust foreigners these days. And the thought of possibly meeting one doesn’t sound much appealing to you. Your heartbeat quickens as you hear an animal breathing heavily somewhere to your left. It sounds like its in pain and moans from time to time, making you tighten the grip on your knife. “What the-“You mumble as the sound of smacking and scratching fills your ears. You hide behind another tree and peek your head out, mouth opening at the scene in front of you. Apparently the footprint aren’t human ones, but from Runners. Three of them delight themselves on the moose, a bloody trail showing where they surprised, and brought the animal down. You feel your stomach turn and look away, feeling sorry for the moose that draws its last breaths, throat and insides pried open. Kill them or go home you weigh out in your head. The runners are distracted and probably wouldn’t notice you, but you’d alert the remaining two after killing one. But if you don’t kill them, they’ll stroll further around and hurt innocent people, or find their way towards Jackson. You sigh in distress, and just decide to risk it. Maybe if you’re fast enough, you can take two down before they put up too much of a fight. You come out of your hiding spot, creeping up behind them with silent steps. They’re to occupied with ripping meat of their prey, and you choose the one at the back to kill first. Determined to make your plan work, you jump forward and clasp your hand around the runners mouth, holding it closed while you stab your knife into its skull and pull him backwards, further away from his infected friends. One raises its head and looks around with wild eyes and bloody mouth, the usual screams coming out before he digs into the moose again. You’re quick to duck and lay on your stomach, knife secure in one hand while you crawl yourself forwards with the other one. Maybe if you throw something into the woods they’ll split up and follow the sound. You feel around for anything heavy to throw and find a rock, weighing it briefly in your hand. That one would have been nice to take home. You think, before throwing it with all your power into the labyrinth of trees. One runner sees the rock connect with a branch and fall to the ground, instantly sprinting towards it. The other one just looks up and drops the flash he’s eating, furiously biting the air. You shake your head in disgust and get up, running over to the infected with your knife held out in front of you. Your blade connects with its chest and you push it in, knocking it down onto the moose and holding his face away from you with your hand. You pull your knife out and aim for the head, but the runners fist connects with your temple and sends you flying to the ground, rolling off the runner and onto the moose. You feel it’s warm blood soaking your clothes and groan, shielding your face just in time to dodge another hit of the runner. He´s trying to scratch and bite into your skin, while you struggle to keep its nasty mouth away from you. “Get off!“ You mumble breathless, anxiously looking for your knife but not seeing it anywhere. At the sound of your fighting, the other runner returns from the woods and looks for the source of the noise, teeth clasping upon each other. You see no other way out and let the runner get to you, waiting until his teeth almost sink into the flesh of your neck before grabbing the head and ripping it to the side with all your strength. You quickly get up and kick the runner that lays beneath you, boots connecting with its skull. You feel the bones breaking beneath your feet and continue bashing its skull in until it stops moving. You have no time to think about what to do next, and simply run. Shit shit shit. You jump over fallen trees and slide beneath some that are too high, the sound of blood rushing through your ears the only sound you hear. Your head hurts and your lungs ache for air and a break, but you push through. You have no idea if the runner follows you or not, but you don’t want to find out. “Y/N!“ You collect with something hard, falling to the ground and wincing as your leg lands on some branches. You look up and see a tall figure standing in front of you. You wipe the mud from your face and blink fast, trying to see clear again. “Joel?“ You squint your eyes and he crouches down, giving you his hand. You take it and he pulls you up into his chest. “What are you doing out here?“ He sounds angry and puts you at arms length. Your face and clothes are covered in a mixture of blood and mud, and your jacket ripped at one arm where the runners nails almost got trough. “I was- Runners.“ You stutter, catching your breath while holding your temple, feeling something warm. “Are you alright?“ Joel runs a hand over your arms and sides, looking for any visible injuries. “I think so, one is still here somewhere.“ You crane your neck to look back, but Joel grabs your chin and makes you look at him. His touch is firm and its clear to see that he’s not amused. “We´re going back. I´v been worried sick looking for you.“ With that he urges you to move in front of him. You sigh, still out of breath and start walking, your leg hurting more with each step. Surely it’s going to form a bruise. “How did you know I was here?“ You ask, hearing Joels heavy steps right behind you. “Tommy saw you slipping out the gate and told me.“ He grumbles. “He told you?“ You try not to sound too confused, but Joel catches up on your tone. „Well-“ He starts, stopping to form his next words before catching up with you. “After what he saw yesterday, he thought I’d like to know. And he was right.“ Joel walks next to you now, sneakily grabbing your shaking hand and slipping his fingers trough yours. You steal a glance into his direction, and he does the same. “Your hand is muddy.“ He says. You snort at the dryness in his statement. “That´s because I was crawling in the mud only minutes ago, in case you didn’t notice.“ You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but he’s only holding tighter onto you. “Don´t do that again.“ His voice softens slightly and your heart melts at the concern written all over his face. “I won´t. For the next couple of days at least.“ You mumble the last part and Joel gives you a warning look, not finding your little comment all too funny. 

“So Tommy knows about us?“ You change the subject and take a deep breath, your lungs still burning. “He knew way before that I like you.“ Joel confesses, staring straight ahead and the tip of his ears turning red. “He´s my brother.“ He shrugs his shoulders and you try to read his face, but can´t pin his emotions. “Why didn’t you make a move before? I mean, I’ve been here for four years and you never gave in to my flirting. I thought you don’t like me that way.“ You quickly wipe over your forehead, getting rid of some of the sweat that collected there. “It´s not easy for me. You’re way younger than I am, you know? It just felt wrong.“ He reasons, grip on your hand loosening. This time, you hold him tight and shake your head. “I don´t care about your age, never have. You cant choose who you feel attracted to.“ You wanted to say love, but stop yourself last minute. “That´s what Tommy told me, too. I just couldn’t believe him. But when we were so close and you touched my face, I don’t know. Something inside of me just snapped.“ Joel´s eyes start to soften and he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. “I´m glad that it did. I felt guilty for liking you, still do, but it feels good. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.“ He continues, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest, while it breaks at the same time. “You don´t have to feel guilty for liking me, Joel.“ You lean into his side but he stays stiff. “You don´t think I’m holding you back? You could be with someone your age who acutally-“Joel talks but you only hear nonsense coming out of his mouth, so you stop him. “Holding me back? You’re saving my ass and make me feel good. I want you, Joel. No one else, only you.“ You gently grab onto his arm and pull on it to emphasize your words. Joel chuckles and nods his head, sighing in defeat. “I´ll always save your ass.“ He mocks your choice of words and you roll your eyes, smiling. “Good, cause I wouldn’t want it any other way.“ You end the discussion by quickly leaning up, ignoring the pain in your leg, and pressing a soft kiss to his beard. “Now lets go back, I want to get out of these clothes. “Oh, I can help with that.“ Joel winks at you and you blush, grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe another time.“ You teasingly nudge his side and let go of his hand as soon as the gates of Jackson come into sight. You regain your composure and Joel does the same, clearing his throat. “Can I come over later?“ You ask, resting your palms against the top of your jeans. “I´ll be waiting for you.“ Joel gives you a smile and walks towards the gate, you following behind with a little distance. So we’re unofficially official, you think. I can live with that.  

————

Thank you all for the positive feedback, I appreciate it ! Reading your comments makes me really happy :) This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but the next one will be longer (and smutty *cough*), so be ready!

[kuiinncedes]

guess who keeps writing random quinntina drabbles in completely unrelated aus and refusing to expand on any of them :D so yeah i wrote a shadowhunters!quinn and tina thing (that i actually might expand on bc i was working on a klaine shadowhunter thing and it’s not super different or anything ANYWAY) idk if i need to explain shit to make it easier to understand or anything but here’s some explanations :P

shadowhunters = demon killers born with angel blood, they draw runes on themselves to do things like heal or give extra agility, strength, etc. also shadowhunters usually have compound last names it’s a whole thing but i kept their last names anyway it doesn’t matter lmao

iratze = healing rune, when a shadowhunter uses one it heals them :P

parabatai = platonically bonded shadowhunters basically, and runes given to someone by their parabatai are sometimes more powerful

Behemoth demons = gross slimy demons with like a giant mouth or something and they’re really hard to kill bc they reform and stuff lol

witchlight = a stone that shadowhunters can use that lights up when they hold it

and i think that’s it, if anyone reads this lol and is confused about any of the shadowhunter aspects feel free to ask me about it :P

also kinda took some things from this prompt list that came across my dash - “you’re bleeding” and “There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow your close.” idk it doesn’t really stick to that tho

oh but yeah that means there’s description of blood and stuff not a lot at all and it’s not graphic or anything but yeah just fyi :3 

ANYWAY YEAH I KINDA REALLY LIKE THIS LDFJSLFJ maybe one day i’ll stop adding this random stuff at the beginning of the ficlets i post lol

---

“You’re bleeding.”

“News flash, Fabray, we’re Shadowhunters. It happens.” Tina rolls her eyes, then returns to scanning the surroundings for the Croucher demons that just disappeared. “I can’t believe I got stuck on a patrol with you,” she grumbles.

Quinn scoffs. “I’m not too happy about it either, hon.” She rubs her forearm, bare to the chill of the night air, and examines the wound on Tina’s leg, as best as she can given the distance between them. The blood has already soaked through her gear, the material itself slashed viciously halfway up her thigh. “Let me give you an iratze, at least. It looks bad,” she says, trying to keep the biting in her tone to a minimum. It’s hard, though, around Tina. She thinks she at least succeeds at not sounding like she’s actually going to kill Tina if she gets close.

Tina looks at her with an indecipherable expression, somehow different than the contempt and anger that she usually directs at Quinn. “It’s fine, we don’t have time for that. Mercedes can do it when we get back.” Tina seems to swallow, then looks away. “You know, being my parabatai, it’ll be a lot better than anything you could do.” The insult doesn’t carry half the heat of anything Tina usually says to her, which confuses Quinn. But she doesn’t have time to think on it when Tina’s eyes widen at some point behind her and Quinn whirls around with her seraph blade to meet the dark face of a demon, Tina coming up beside her, stabbing one demon and effectively causing another to vanish with a perfectly-thrown dagger.

Try as she might, Quinn can’t ignore just how insanely good of a Shadowhunter Tina Cohen-Chang is. And it annoys the fuck out of her.

Together they easily kill the demons in the group -- Croucher demons are not the brightest by far -- and Tina is retrieving a dagger from the ground when Quinn sees them. 

Three Behemoth demons, moving sluggishly, and not towards them, but they are going to have to take care of them. 

“What the fuck are Behemoth demons doing in a group…?” Quinn mumbles. They need help for this; no matter how exceptional of a Shadowhunter Tina is, and although Quinn is far from bad herself, two Shadowhunters can’t take on three Behemoth demons. 

“Fuck,” Tina whispers, coming up beside Quinn again. She can’t help but notice how Tina’s dark hair has fallen out of her bun a little, messy strands surrounding her face but of course she still looks so good --

“How do you feel about Behemoths, Fabray?” Tina says quietly, her tone challenging. They’re still just watching the demons, who haven’t done anything yet and have given no indication that they’ve noticed the two Shadowhunters.

Quinn scowls, “Hate them.” Which is an understatement. She and Kurt had a terrible experience with one a few years ago and she prefers not to think about it.

Tina nods. “Same.”

Of course, one of the demons finally turns their way and spots them. “Fuck, we gotta run,” Quinn hisses. She can already see that the demons are dispersing their slimy, disgusting bodies -- she really doesn’t like Behemoths -- to reform somewhere else, no doubt somewhere significantly closer to where they’re standing --

Or behind them. Quinn is yanked sideways by Tina and they sprint down a small road, dark but for the dim street lights reflecting off the wet asphalt.

It doesn’t take long for Quinn to notice something is wrong. She hasn’t patrolled with Tina before, but she’s trained with her, she knows Tina is somewhat faster than her. So why isn’t Tina way ahead of her right now… 

Quinn spares a glance over and right, her leg. Before Quinn can think about it, she’s pulling Tina into a small alley off the side of the road. 

“Shit,” Tina breathes, clenching her jaw and leaning against the wall in this really very narrow alley, they barely have enough space for the two of them, each against one of the walls -- 

Quinn looks at the wound on Tina’s thigh and hisses, “You idiot. You should’ve let me put a damn iratze on you, or you should’ve done it yourself, Angel’s sake -- ”

A Behemoth slides past, dispersing and quickly reforming further up the alley. The other two follow close behind. Quinn presses herself into the shadows of the alley, lessens her breath and tries to force her heart to stop pounding so loudly. She doesn’t think Behemoths have a sense of smell, she’s never learned that, but if they do, she and Tina are screwed and she will need to have a little chat with her demons instructor Will Schuester because this would not be a good time to find that out.

The demons pass. Quinn lets out a slow breath. 

“Lost my stele.” Tina’s breath is coming in shallow gasps; Quinn can tell she’s trying to minimize the sound. The gash on her thigh is way deeper and longer than Quinn realized. It’s hard to see anything with the lack of light in the alley and lack of contrast between Tina’s blood on her skin and the black gear she’s wearing.

“Fuck, do you have a witchlight?” Quinn asks. 

“No.” Tina’s muscles are tight and her body is wound. “It doesn’t matter right now. Call the Institute, we need someone to get rid of those Behemoths.”

Quinn wants to argue, wants to ask Tina if she’s seen her leg, but Tina’s right, infuriatingly. She quickly presses the number for her parabatai on her phone while Tina closes her eyes, resting her head against the brick wall, seemingly trying to calm her breathing.

“Quinn!” Kurt exclaims when he picks up. “What happened? Mercedes said she felt something happen to Tina and you guys have been out longer than you’re supposed to -- ”

“We’re fine,” Quinn interrupts. “Tina’s mostly fine, just a nice cut from a Croucher. We ran into some Behemoths though, need someone to take care of them.”

Kurt groans. “Of course you guys ran into Behemoths.” There’s some faint talking in the background -- Quinn can make out Mercedes demanding to know where her parabatai is, some other voices chime in that she can’t recognize. “Okay, luckily Mike’s here and he can go try to magic them away or whatever he does. Beiste is going with him. Mercedes and I will meet up with you and Tina. Send me your guys’ patrol location.”

“Don’t you know it?”

“Yes, but send it to me anyway,” Kurt says, exasperated, but Quinn can tell he doesn’t really mean it. “Okay? Be careful.”

“Always am.” She ends the call and shoves her phone back into her pocket. Then she remembers Tina, who’s sitting against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her and looking exhausted. 

“Here,” she says, finding her stele and holding it out to her. Tina gives her a half-smile and accepts it. She rolls up her jacket sleeve to draw the rune on her forearm, flowing black lines of the iratze stark against her skin in the dim light. 

“Kurt and Mercedes are coming,” Quinn says. “And Mike and Beiste for the demons.”

“Good, saves me from more time with you,” Tina mumbles halfheartedly.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Let me help,” she says, kneeling down and reaching for her stele. “It will work better closer to the heart -- ”

“I’m fine,” Tina says hurriedly, leaning away from Quinn slightly. Quinn ignores the slight disappointment she feels at that and exclaims, “Are you serious? Your leg is still pouring blood, you can see that, right?”

Tina swallows. “I don’t want you that close to me.” Her voice is resigned, quiet and Quinn can barely hear her.

“Again, are you serious? What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Quinn knows she shouldn’t be getting angry, especially when they don’t know how far the demons are and they could hear her raised voice -- can Behemoth demons hear? Mr. Schue really didn’t do a great job in their demon education -- and come back to finish them off.

“Quinn, just… just don’t.” Tina rolls her stele back towards her. “Thanks for the stele.”

“No, I want to know! I want to know what the fuck I did to make you treat me like this, because I sure didn’t ask for it.” Quinn is seething now, unable to stop even if she tried. “When we were kids you were okay, but ever since the Shadowhunter Academy you’ve been such an asshole to me, and now you can’t even let me near you to help you, to put a fucking iratze on you -- ”

“I have feelings for you!” Tina yells, effectively shutting Quinn up. Quinn looks down at her in surprise. 

“What -- ?”

Tina puts her head in her hands, running them through her hair and pulling out her bun, her shining black hair spilling across her shoulders. “I… can’t let you near me because… I’m scared,” she says softly to her boots. “I’m scared of what my feelings mean when you get close to me and I want to kiss you so fucking badly... I want to be with you. I -- I realized that at the Shadowhunter Academy when I saw other girls kiss each other and I just,” she shakes her head. “I realized I want to do that with you. And I know there’s no chance for that, I get it. But that’s why I’ve been... mean.”

Quinn stares at Tina, jaw dropped open. Tina meets her gaze for a moment, then averts her eyes and smirks slightly, sadly. “It’s fine, Fabray. I’ll stop being an asshole and you don’t have to talk to me again. Except, you know, when Kurt and Mercedes want us all to hang out, but I’ll stay away.”

Quinn wants to say something -- wants to say no, I don’t want that, when the alley floods with light and she turns to see Kurt and Mercedes, the light coming from a witchlight stone in Kurt’s hand. 

“You know,” he says, smiling, “you could’ve come out after the demons left, would’ve made it easier for us to find you.”

-

Quinn makes her way through the unfamiliar halls of the Columbus Institute. She has a vague sense of where she’s going but she doesn’t live at the Institute so she’s still a little disoriented. But she mostly tries to follow the sound of voices and sure enough, it leads her to the library, where Mercedes and Tina are huddled together over a book, talking and laughing with each other. She watches them, quietly, awkwardly, for a second, then Tina turns and spots her, smile faltering a little.

“Hey, Quinn,” she says softly. Mercedes turns too and waves at her.

“Hey, guys,” Quinn says. She swallows. “Um, could I talk to Tina for a second?” Mercedes shoots Tina a look. She nods back and Mercedes pats her hand and leaves the library, and now Quinn and Tina are alone.

“How’s your leg?” Quinn asks, deciding to stall.

Tina smiles a little, walks up to her. Her hair is in braids today. “Good as new. Tends to be the case after a few iratzes.”

Quinn nods. “Good.”

A moment passes, then Tina exhales and says, “Look, Quinn… I’m really sorry about what I said in the alley. I… can’t say I didn’t mean it, but I promise I won’t act like anything’s different, okay? We don’t even have to talk about it -- ”

“I want to talk about it.”

Tina stops. “You do?”

Quinn runs a hand through her hair. “You meant what you said?”

A slow nod from Tina, and a deep breath from Quinn.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Quinn says, gaze fixed on the floor between their feet. “I think I feel the same.”

“… what?” 

“I want to kiss you. If you’ll let me.”

At some point, they’ve gotten closer, and now Quinn stands right in front of Tina, their faces almost touching. She barely has to move to press her lips to Tina’s. Tina inhales sharply, but then relaxes and her hands flutter up to lightly cup Quinn’s face as Quinn pulls her closer.

They pull away and Tina laughs slightly, breathlessly.

“Does this mean you still hate me?” Tina asks, her dark eyes sparkling, pupils dilated. Their breaths mingle in the lack of space between them.

“Of course,” Quinn murmurs. “Do you?”

“Why would I like you?” Tina tries to say, grinning, but she’s cut off by Quinn’s next kiss. 

And another, and another.

[faimrpg]

Name: Savatier Age: ? Occupation: Imperial Historian and Librarian Faceclaim: Cillian Murphy Pronouns: He/him Currently: Taken

YOU HUNGER FOR —

A return. You know what awful things human beings will do to each other, in the name of victory: you have toed the edge of the Obsidienne, a blade in your belly, and lived. Your magic deals with time, the quickening of it, the slowing of it, the stopping of it, and when Odeline sacrificed herself to stop the threat in the Obsidienne, you were there with her, right alongside Jaster. You’d watched her die, and in your grief for the woman you loved you’d displaced yourself on accident, falling through centuries, only to awaken in an entirely different era, your friends gone and family name forgotten. You’ve tried going back, but you are far weaker now than you were in the beginning of your life, and so you have temporarily resigned yourself to being stuck. Working in the so-called Imperial library seemed the only way to learn your own history, so you… ahem, removed the previous librarian and took their place. Miraculously, all mention of you has been wiped clean. Only Jaster and Odeline remain, and Jaster was not nearly as glorious as they make him out to be, given that he’s the one who stabbed you in the stomach. It makes sense that he’d begin an Empire -- and that he’d keep the prophecy about its downfall so far hidden it might never see the light of day. You know what awful things human beings will do to each other -- but most don’t realize until it’s too late.

CONNECTIONS

Agrippine: Whatever it is they’re going through, it obviously pains them -- so when they came to you for help, it felt almost impossible to say no. You took them up on their offer, and have spent long nights working through historical records of citizens in Val Faim, for anyone who might be their age, reading off long lists of names that might strike up a memory. None have worked so far, and it’s a very long list. You know the burdens of having memories that you can do nothing with, that bring you no joy, that you cannot speak on. When the days come where they can only weep in silent rage, you hold their hand in yours and weep with them.

Celeste du Leon: In some ways, they make you laugh. They’re not very good at sneaking around the Palace, and you can always sense them coming before they’ve even arrived. They ask you bold, unfiltered questions in an effort to either catch you off guard or glean information from you that would truly be of no use to them. You’re tempted to just sit them down one day and invite them for a cup of tea, if only to tell them to get it all over with. It’d be far easier to do that then whatever strange process they’ve concocted for themselves in an effort to appease their betters.

Hector Geraud: You knew the Gerauds. You knew Hector’s greatest of great grandmothers, and what a mountain of a woman she’d been, standing at nearly eight feet high. When the time had come for you, Jaster, and Odeline to bring down one of the great winged beasts terrorizing a village, it’d been her who’d slain it, blood slicking the axe that was as tall as you’d been. To see her heir in Hector, who has done as their family has but will never achieve that same level of victory, of glory? It pains you. You want to tell them, but they’d most likely look at you like you were insane.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 7: Ch 3

Previous 

Summary: After finding Syco, the duo finds an unsettling, new reality.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

The bow’s string recoils, lurching forward and backward, each time quicker than the previous. The arrow seemingly stretched the longer I looked at it. It was a golden blur that when it finally hit Cala, which missed Syco’s kick by a split second, finally emanated a sound. The sound it made was as quick as its movements and as powerful as its strike. The arrow, embedded between his pecs, which squeezed against each other, had torn into him, but not into his heart. Still, his blood squirted around the arrow. Distracted by this, Syco is finally able to overpower him again. He grabs the arms closest to him, pulls Cala towards him, and headbutts his opponent. 

The giant stumbled back and struggled to defend himself against Cala’s punches. The fusion between Saamuki and The Speaker stood back, watching as to not get in the way. No one and not anything could ruin Syco’s long-awaited moment, not even a blast that strayed away from the battle that took place above could. The two split when it came cutting towards them and they reunited as soon as it left. Not even as the ship moved, moving away from the incoming, second stray blast, the two remained concentrated on pummeling the other, Syco mostly. 

That is until Cala’s face became covered in bruises, had gotten a swollen eye, and his blood nearly painted his face, and his chest became one big, green smudge. He moved back twenty paces. Whatever Cala had in mind Syco didn’t want to find out. He tried stopping him, but something purple was shot out of Cala’s mouth. Seeing it begin to eat away at the distance between the two of them, I find out it’s acidic and it’s my turn to return to this fight. I fire multiple arrows at Cala, but they’re not fast enough to stop him from encasing himself into his exoskeleton.

Syco makes the jump. The acid ate away a lot of the space between him and Cala. He makes it and is about to strike, but with wings, spikes, and green ooze shooting out of Cala, Syco is pushed away before he could. Two steps further and he would’ve fallen into the large hole the acid created as it ate through the ship’s dense metal. All too close Syco witnesses Cala transform into a demon. Not really, but he looked like one. Cala’s wingspan was double his size. Attached to their edges and around him are razor-sharp spikes that could do way more damage than the deadly, purple substance that came out of his mouth.  

Stretching his wings, he pushes us away. As he now flew above us, the strength of his wings pushed us even further. It was difficult to stand even for Syco, but we managed. “My wounds have healed, yet to do so and to transform into this took a lot out of me.”

“Back to square one,” Syco commented. 

Again, Cala smirks. 

Cala swoops down towards Syco. I shoot. He dodges and pulls his two right fists back and thrusts. Syco can’t dodge. He doesn’t have the room or the time, so he’s forced to try to defend. He knew it was foolish, but it’s better than nothing. Syco is overpowered. He’s pushed into the death sentence waiting behind him. 

“Syco,” I screamed out. I don’t get to hear him fall before Cala comes after me next. The fusion between friend and ghost fly towards him way before he’s able to touch me. The two get entangled. My glowing, blue ally tries to hold their own, but it’s clear Cala is outclassing them. With every new punch, they make Cala throw four, half hit the duo. Through all of this, I’m not just standing and watching them slowly fall closer to defeat. I’m trying to aim, but I can’t get a clear shot. Eventually, I do, but I’m not thankful for it because of the two spiraling downward and eventually crashing into the floor. I don’t hesitate after. I’m shooting, but Cala uses the strength of his wings to deflect each attack. When he gets all too close, I swing the newly reformed sword at him. I got a slice into his face, which he touched, and looked up at his hand to see his blood with a grimace. After, the demonic creature wastes no more time when he once again transforms all four of his hands into blades. Unlike last time I’m able to keep up, but I don’t know how long I’m able to. I’m tired. I’m sweating. My muscles ache, burning with each movement, and it’s hard to breathe in this. Each breath causes my glass to fog up. Just right when I’m about to go unconscious I’m saved by a familiar blue beam of light. It pushes Cala away from me. It pushes him further as the fusion, which now has blue flames acting as hair and glowing veins, moves closer towards him. The strength of this attack is the strongest I’ve ever seen as it burns away the metal beneath it and Cala’s exoskeleton, which causes him to scream.  It’s only a matter of time before the wall shielding Cala, protecting him from being blown away into the deep, dark reaches of outer space gives into the superior strength of the duo’s attack. The wall is cracking and I can hear it bending. A hole is eventually made, caving around him, but it’s not enough. The strength of the duo isn’t enough. Saamuki falls to her knees, apologizing as she’s trying to regain normalcy in her breathing and fight to remain conscious, but I can’t help her now. I can’t go to her yet.

The pain is unimaginable as if Cala got to me before Saamuki got to him and is now squeezing me, but I run towards him. I shove the blade into his chest. 

Gagging out blood, which spills onto the blade and my fingers, I push it in even further. I was so close to killing him. I could feel the yearning in my heart, but he stopped me. Syco places his hand on my shoulder and I don’t flinch from it. I instead turn around and see a hole in his right shoulder closing, healing. Without words, our eyes spoke for us. In response, I pluck out the sword and move aside, causing Cala to fall, but he’s still taller than Syco. Spitting out more blood, Cala says, “Of course. You live to see your enemies suffer.”

“No,” Syco crouches down, “For so long I imagined this moment, me standing victorious over your pitiful body. Now, that no longer interests me. Bloodlust no longer fills my head, Cala. I’m not going to end you. I don’t want you to die.”

“Syco, it’s not like you to forget. It was because of me your people are the way they are.”

“I remember perfectly, Cala.”

“Then, end me now. Kill me,” his eyes move towards Syco’s newly healed shoulder, “You clearly have the advantage here.”

“No.” Cala raises his eyebrows. “Instead, I offer you your life and in return, I want your loyalty,” Syco continued. 

“Loyalty for what? To be part of your foolish plan?” He lets out a chuckle. 

“This is your chance to redeem yourself, Commander Cala.”

“It’s a death wish that’s built on irony.” Again, he coughs.

“You are dying, Cala. You don’t have time for this. I’m giving you an opportunity that will benefit us all.”

Cala looks down at him with watery eyes. He closes them so that his tears flow down his cheeks as he gulps. The dying commander reopens them to look at Syco with helpless eyes. “I’ve wronged your people. I’ve regretted it, haunted by it, and rightfully so I have, yet here you are showing me mercy. You truly have become insane,” he clutches his wound and twitches, “But I’m the monster. I-I’m sorry, Syco.”

Syco places his hand on top of Cala’s. Cala grips it, holds it, and when his eyes close for the last time, he lets go. Cala, the cause of the civil war that took place on the homeworld of the Tauvoxes, has died underneath one of its last inhabitants. Syco’s face is emotionless, but his eyes tell a different story. For the first time, I see Syco cry. 

Saamuki lies unconscious on a bed much bigger than both of us, as her body is healing itself. She remained glowing, but her eyes remained shut. Her breathing is normal, which is a relief. I and this ship’s commander who’s just entered the room didn’t need someone else to fall. 

Back relaxed and pointed towards Syco as my hands are holding Saamuki’s right, he reports, “Your spaceship is being collected as we speak. Additionally, your friends and Commander Knox are en route to Quadrant Forty.”

It comes back to me. His body being ripped apart as he cried out for it to stop, for mercy. I gag, but I hold it back. I let go of Saamuki and turn around to face him. He stood in front of the doorway with his eyes glued to the screen resting between his hands. He looked a lot like Mikrovos. I mean, of course, he did. They’re the same alien species, but Syco is now no longer another piece of the unknown. Now, he’s just another person. His ears twitched when he finally noticed me looking at him. 

“Ah, yes, I promised you answers.”

“The Lords. Me. Us. What are you planning?”

His words are cold, reminding me he’s far from being like Mikrovos, “In words, it’s simple: get as many on our side, and get to the Lords, and defeat them. The nanites in us will help us do just that.”

He has the screen vanish as he steps towards us, which I instinctively reach for the dagger resting in my pocket. As he looks down at Saamuki with his arms crossed behind his back, he makes sure I know he noticed my reaction with, “Given the chance, you’d stab me again. Of course, you know better than to do that because not only is it pointless at this current time but you know you need me as much as I need you.” 

I set the dagger down. He turns around to look into my eyes. Again, and further reminded he’s not Mikrovos. 

Syco continues, “The first intergalactic war was the long, drown out reaction towards the Lords taking control. Wild animals cannot be controlled. It will kill you long before you’re able to tame it. We are equal because we are both wild animals. Both of us had our homes taken away from us because of the war. You don’t trust me, but I do. I trust you with my life. Helping me defeat Commander Cala was the final test to prove that. I won’t ever force you to believe my views, but I will ask you to once again fight beside me. Stand by me, or stand behind me,” he pulls my hand along with my dagger close to his chest, “If you so choose the former and once this is all over I will let you take your revenge. I will fall by your hands.”

Still looking into his eyes, “Why?”

“Because once they’re defeated I no longer have meaning.” He lets go of me. I bring the dagger back to my lap and look down at it. I’ve heard something similar before, so I look back at Saamuki. He turns around and walks away. Before he leaves us he relays, “We’re an hour away from our next destination.”

I sat in silence, thinking of our conversation over and over again. The look on his face is etched into the back of my mind. The look in his eyes as he revealed the conclusion to our conversation has my grip tighten on the dagger. I nearly stabbed my other hand with the abrupt cough from Saamuki. She’s woken up and after she’s done coughing looks at me. Rather than asking if she’s okay I for some reason look away, ashamed. 

When I finally dare to look up, I instead see the emotionless black-figure rather than Saamuki’s concerned facial expression. 

[heoneyology]

Hearts on the Line: Ch.9

A/N: Things have calmed down a bit! Heads up there’s a portion where the MC has to get stitched up, I tried not to go into too much detail.

Genre: action, angst, romance, outlaw!au

Word Count: 4925

Summary: You’ve got a debt to pay, and Wooyoung has an agenda of his own. But for your help with just one last scheme, Wooyoung is willing to allow your debt to drop off—unknown to him, though, you also have your own agenda, and a loyalty to an unspoken Other. With hearts on the line, you each will end up having to make a decision that may risk what you both thought was simply just a game.

The ride back to the base camp is uncomfortable, to say the very least. You’re barely able to stay in the saddle on your own, and so Yunho rides behind you and allows you to lean back against him, an arm snaked around your waist as he holds you upright. He leads his horse along at a gallop with the reins in his free hand. He attempts to go slow and gently, but there’s an urgency to getting you back to camp that you can understand—that doesn’t make it any more comfortable, of course.

Each movement of the horse beneath you jostles you in a way that has you clenching your teeth against the pain. Every now and again, Yunho will ask you a question softly, close to your ear. You answer each time, not really able to remember what it is he’s asking and what you’re giving an answer to. You know he’s making sure you’re conscious still and not slipping away on him.

After a while, he begins to softly hum in your ear. Despite his deep voice, it’s melodic.

You don’t fall asleep, but the sound reverberating from the back of his throat soothes you enough to make the ride pass in a way that seems too fast yet too slow at the same time. You’re unable to firmly grasp at the concept of time.

“San!” Yunho’s sudden shout pulls you back to reality. You aren’t sure how much time has passed, having been lulled into a strange state of in-between by your riding partner’s humming. “Choi San!” He yells again, this time a bit more urgently.

Yunho slides from the saddle first, keeping a firm grip on you with a single hand as he does so. You realize then that you haven’t stopped clenching your jaw since the start of the ride. Slowly relaxing, you let out a breath, mentally preparing yourself for the pain about to come. There’s a frown furrowing Yunho’s brow again.

“Careful,” he croons to you, as you position yourself slowly to assist him in getting you down from his horse. Arms wrapped around you, he slips you from the saddle. You’re about to tell him that you can walk, but he’s back to carrying you bridal style without a single shred of hesitation.

“Choi San!” Yunho yells, once more, this time the urgency hovering close to a state of panic.

A sudden thundering of hooves, followed by some faint barking, makes you peek over Yunho’s shoulder. “There,” you murmur, and Yunho turns with you in his arms. The two of you watch San ride back into camp on his palomino, a small dog haphazardly barking as it trails a little too close to the horse’s hooves, pulling up short to a stop.

“You found Shiber,” Yunho comments off-handedly, before continuing, “Did you search the camp at all? Are your supplies mostly here, still?”

San dismounts, and as he does so he shoots his hunting hound a wide grin. The last you’d seen of the canine was when the dog had been curled asleep by the fire next to a contently sleeping Yeosang and Jongho. That seemed like ages ago, now, despite it only being close to a week, maybe a week and a half. You briefly wonder if Shiber had gone missing all of a sudden—it was no unknown fact to anyone that the dog was extremely fond of his owner, and didn’t take well to moments that San was away for days on end.

That’s when you notice the state of camp. You feel your head rolling along your shoulders in imitation of an owl as you do so, attempting to crane your neck around Yunho’s frame. While the camp isn’t completely torn apart, it’s clearly disheveled, as though some sort of tussle had happened. Items have been upturned, ripped open, and contents even spread around.

What happened? You wonder, just as San asks aloud, “What happened?”

He’s right in front of the two of you then, staring down at you with a stricken expression across his face. You pull your attention from the camp to meet San’s gaze, giving a meager smile.

“When you guys taught me how to fight and fend off knife attackers, you never followed up with what to do if that person had two knives.” Your attempt at a joke is quite lame, but you hear Yunho let out some sort of scoff-like laughter, and San—though he presses his lips into a hard, displeased line—gives a good-humored head shake.

“Yes, because you weren’t actually ever supposed to get into a knife fight,” San mutters, before nodding towards the center of the camp, close to the barren fire pit, a silent instruction for Yunho. San turns away, saying, “My tent was still fine, I should have enough to stitch her up.”

Yunho follows San’s silent direction, carefully setting you down on the ground next to the fire pit. He glances around the disheveled camp, moving about to collect some fresh wood to put a fire together.

“What happened here?” You ask, turning your head enough to allow you to study the state of what had been your temporary home until then.

“We don’t know.” San is the one who answers, returning to your side with a bag. He sets it down before he crouches at your side. “Hongjoong has an idea, but it hasn’t been confirmed. Seonghwa is also missing.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. He was the only one who hadn’t come to town that night. Yeosang and Jongho had said that they weren’t able to extract him from his tent, pouring himself over the books he carried with him. You remembered that the first night when this all had began, Seonghwa had been focused on studying something, but you could barely remember what. Considering he hadn’t been in the line of danger at all, despite his warnings, you found yourself worried.

“So, what happened?” San asked as he set about to work, he glanced up briefly at Yunho. “Get some water boiling in a pot, since we aren’t in any immediate danger ourselves and she isn’t, I want to sanitize this wound correctly. The bleeding seems to have stopped a while ago.”

You hear a hum of acknowledgement from Yunho, before the sound of a small spark against wood touches your ears. You flinch in surprise, briefly turning your head to watch Yunho tend a campfire, doing as San instructed with the water. Letting out a sigh, you turn back to San, watching him rummage through his belongings and pull out some various vials, bottles, and instruments, until he was satisfied with the assemblage.

“Short version of the story,” you begin, too tired to give all the details. They’ll hear it again, anyway, when Hongjoong inevitably sits you down to question you. “Wooyoung had a stupid idea, I went along with the stupid idea. I was acting as a spy. Got in a scuffle with a woman from Wooyoung’s past after gathering some information. We had a physical fight, I got stabbed—” You cut yourself off, glancing up at San then, “—the blade was doused in Gila monster venom, by the way.”

San has been handed a pot of boiled water by Yunho at this point, and he’s working on carefully cleaning a regular old sewing needle he’d procured. “Oh my,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Well, how are you feeling? I hear those are nasty to deal with. They won’t kill you, but they’re insanely painful. Unfortunately you have to just ride the venom out.”

You let out a grunt. “Ride it out is exactly what I’m doing, and it’s definitely not the most pleasant experience I’ve had.”

Quirking a brow, San studies you. “You’re handling the pain quite well.”

“I think the venom numbed me, to be honest. I ache inside. The stab wound I can’t really feel unless I make a sudden movement. Feels like my body has failed on me, because I feel nothing at all.”

After the needle is sanitized to his liking, San sets it aside. “Well, I hope you’re ready to feel something, because these next few things probably won’t be pleasant.” From under a curtain of hair, he looks up at you as he hovers of you. “For now I’m just going to clean this wound. Painkiller after, before I stitch it up. Can’t do anything for the venom, your body will naturally fight that off in its own way.”

You nod, grateful that he’s at least explaining to you what he’s doing and intends to do. Lying your head back, you let out a sigh, bracing yourself as you stare up at the night sky, littered with stars. You hear the tear of cloth as San cuts away the lower half of your shirt, flinching as he gently pours the hot water Yunho had boiled over your stab wound. The liquid, despite being smooth, is uncomfortably hot as it rushes around the edges of the wound and into the cut itself. San’s bare hand moves gently over the wound, rubbing away both dried and fresh blood.

As he works, you find yourself hyper focused on what he’s doing without looking, attempting to piece together a mental image of his hand at work.

“So,” you exhale, deciding the continuation of your story will distract you, “we got into a physical fight, I got stabbed—and I’m not really sure what made me think it was a good idea, but there was this lamp on the table in the room—we were in the saloon private rooms. I started to fall, my body couldn’t hold up my weight, and so I grabbed the lantern off the table and threw it onto the floor as I fell.”

“I thought the room would set on fire,” you lie, surprised at how easily it comes to you, “but then the whole building went up in flames.”

They don’t need to know that you were aware of Jean’s plan, or that you even knew Jean. They didn’t need to know that you’d smelled the gunpowder on the floor when you’d fallen the first time, and they definitely didn’t need to know you’d planned all of that to help ensure your survival. Now that Wooyoung was possibly injured because of you—these were things they didn’t need to know.

“Well, we heard that explosion from this far off—Yunho, sit her up—and let me tell you, I don’t think it was just that saloon you were in that set on fire.”

San is easy at holding multiple conversations at once, easily talented in the art of juggling multiple thoughts swarming through his head. It was no wonder he still had a shred of sanity left. Everyone liked to tease him for thinking too much, all at once, but somehow he still was able to keep a head about him despite all the ideas he had.

Yunho does as San instructs, carefully sitting you up as San presses a cloth over your stab wound to ensure it doesn’t begin to bleed again from the movement. As you’re guided into a sitting position, you’re met with a flask practically in your face, right at the tip of your nose.

You groan. You hated alcohol.

“Time to drink away the pain. Gotta numb you up,” San gives an impish grin, knowing your dislike for the whiskey.

“Quack doctor,” Yunho mutters under his breath.

San wrinkles his nose at the other. “Hey, you’ll be saying that when I patch Rosette up here nice and good. You’re going to end up being grateful.”

“What I would have been grateful for is if you hadn’t let Hongjoong fall out of his damn saddle,” Yunho argues, “quack doctor!”

“I digress, Hongjoong chose to fall from his own saddle. I had absolutely nothing to do with that—”

“A doctor should have control over his patients!”

“How many times do I have to say I’m not even a real doctor?!” San wails, and you suddenly find a headache growing, not just for the fact that he’s literally crying in your ear—but also from their bickering. It’s something they do often, Jongho often joining them, as well. That was something that created an even bigger fiasco.

“And Hongjoong isn’t, nor was he ever, a real patient! He went to sleep after a concussion! Who does that?!”

“Who lets someone do that?” Yunho retorts.

“Okay I didn’t see you wake him up, either—”

“Wait… Hongjoong fell from his saddle? He has a concussion? What’s going on?” You’re dizzy, glancing back and forth between the two of them as they continue their squabble.

But instead of answering you, San decides at that moment, it’s perfect to drop the subject entirely. Yunho seems to be in some sort of silent agreement with him. San shakes the flask in front of your nose. “A story for another time, maybe later when you tell us the lengthened version of your own. Now, bottom’s up.”

You wrinkle your nose as he presses the flask to your mouth, though you have no choice but to part your lips and accept the whiskey. Grimacing, you close your eyes against the bitter taste. San doesn’t lower the flask, and so you’re forced to keep drinking it steadily until he seems satisfied you’ve had enough. When he tilts the flask away, you sputter and let out a cough.

It’s not instantaneous, but you can feel the aged whiskey slowly take hold of your body, a sort of vertigo beginning to build up at the forefront of your mind. You close your eyes against the sensation. “Gross,” you mutter, aware that now the back of your throat burns with the rest of your body.

“Necessary,” is San’s one word answer, as he nods to Yunho, who gently lays you back down. Before you’re completely settled, San is pressing something against your mouth again. Obliging, you part your lips, greeted by the taste of old leather. Your eyes shoot back open, and from the back of your throat you let out a complaint against the leather, lifting your hands to pry San’s away.

“You’d rather bite off your tongue?” San asks, holding the leather there firmly. Though it tastes disgusting—you have to admit to yourself that you would rather not do so. San doesn’t let go until you drop your hands, positive you’re going to concede. “I’m going to start stitching.”

You’re about to close your eyes again when Yunho is suddenly reaching forward, collecting your hands in his own.

“In case it hurts too much.” He gives your hands a small, reassuring squeeze.

“Make sure she doesn’t struggle or move,” San directs, adding to you, “please try and stay still, Rosette, even if it hurts.”

You give a curt nod, feeling your jaw tightening as your teeth clench against the leather. Just as the pinpoint of the needle touches your skin, you snap your eyes closed and find yourself squeezing Yunho’s hands. The needle slides along your skin in a smooth and effortless manner, San working quickly and efficiently. You know he’s trying his hardest to not make things worse for you, but you can’t help the whimper against the leather that escapes from you. If you were to look, you were sure you’d be gripping Yunho’s hands so hard that your knuckles were white.

From faraway, you hear Yunho begin to hum again, until his voice builds up into something a tad bit stronger, softly singing, “It was you, my shine light; true light, came with destiny…”

You focus on that soothing sound, beginning to doze off. Yunho’s singing with the vertigo swimming in your head is enough to keep you unfocused—jumping between different thoughts and feelings. The sensation of the needle and thread and San’s warm touch against your stomach, the burning fire that still lingers in your veins, back to the gentle touch of Wooyoung as he tended to your lip… wondering if Wooyoung was okay, and wishing he were here.

At some point, your body can’t handle fighting against the pain any longer. Yunho’s voice and the whiskey lull you to sleep, a more comfortable warmth settling over your body. The day had been much longer than you’d anticipated, taking a very large toll on your body and mind overall. Nothing had panned out the way you had anticipated, and at the back of your mind is a small worry about what Hongjoong will say about everything. He didn’t know about your connecting to Jean, yet a part of you was concerned he was somehow aware of the buildings in the town being prepped to go up in flame—that you knew exactly what you were doing when you’d knocked that lamp over.

There was also a worry over what Jean was going to say—or even do. Did this ruin her plans? Clearly they’d been thwarted, to an extent, since the three members you’d managed to get to the saloon were all alive and well. That also made you wonder, though, where the heck had Seonghwa gone? And why was the camp in such a state of array?

You felt guilty for being relieved that everyone that had gone to the saloon was alive and well, like you were betraying your best friend. Could you even call her that, any longer? Even with the history you shared?

At the very least, you’d gotten a name out of Monica. Mr. Kim. It narrowed absolutely nothing down, but maybe Wooyoung would be able to do something with that information. You wished you’d gone alone, like originally planned. If only you’d been the one to meet with Monica, and hadn’t dragged the guys along… maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe everyone would be alright.

You aren’t sure how long you sleep for, but the sound of voices drags you unwillingly back to consciousness and reality.

“They got caught, the both of them. They’re in a holding cell right now.” Immediately, a sense of further relief washes through you at the sound of Jongho’s voice.

“They didn’t get shot on the spot?” Yunho asks, surprised.

“Sheriff wants to do a public execution,” Yeosang’s quietly calm voice interjects into the conversation. They’re talking about Hongjoong and Wooyoung, you realize. “Everyone thinks they did it—set the town on fire.”

“But—” Mingi’s deep voice suddenly appears, seemingly out of nowhere.”

“There’s no ‘buts’ to it, Mingi. I know you don’t think it’s entirely fair. With their combined bounties? Honestly, what man with a clean name wouldn’t think they did it? It’s not exactly like the sheriff needs a cause for the crime, to kill them. We’re all outlaws here.”

When you blink your eyes open, you find yourself lying on your side. A blanket has been placed beneath you, along with one covered over you, and a pack laid beneath your head. You’re met with the sight of San’s beloved hunting hound, Shiber, lying next to you. When you stir, the dog lifts his head to sniff you, before plopping it right back down and returning to his own dozing. You reach out, resting a hand on Shiber’s side as your eyes adjust to the dark and the firelight.

The dog stirring again, this time at your touch, catches San’s attention.

“You’re awake?”

There’s a pounding in your head that makes you wish you weren’t awake, but you answer with a, “Yes, kind of. Waking up still.” The fog of what’s left of the whiskey in your system and the heaviness of the sudden sleep that had overtaken you make it a bit difficult to push past the grogginess you feel.

San’s suddenly there, hovering over you. Shiber moves out of the way, tail wagging as he stares at San with such dedication and compassion in his eyes. You kind of envy the love the dog has for the man.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hungover?” You offer with a small smile.

San chuckles, smiling enough that his cheeks dimple. He reaches forward, gently taking hold of your shoulders and guiding you to return to laying on your back. At your waist, he parts the shirt you’re wearing—you realize that it’s one of the guys’, a button-down that’s only half-buttoned, that probably belongs to Yunho since it seems to fit you so loosely and clings to your frame like a curtain rather than a shirt.

“It looks good. Bleeding has completely stopped, no signs of infection at the time,” San studies his work, “I made some poultice with some yarrow not long ago that I put to help stem the bleeding. Whiskey’s all we got for painkillers around here, so if you’re in any pain, you’re either going to have tough it out or drink up.”

You wrinkle your nose at the idea of drinking anything more, not a fan of the latter option. Toughing it out seems like the better of the two ideas, considering you seemed to have done a decent job of it earlier if you’d managed to stay on your feet through all the events that had gone down.

“Good news is I think the venom is mostly out of your system. Had quite a scare after you fell asleep, you started running a fever,” San explained, letting the material of the shirt fall back down over your exposed stomach. “For a moment I thought you’d caught an infection, but then I realized your body was seemingly sweating out the last of the venom.”

“How long have I been sleeping for?” You wonder, your voice cracking as you speak.

Instead of answering, San turns away from you for a moment to rummage through some items nearby. You glance around at what you can see without jostling yourself too much, aware that the guys seemed to have cleaned up most of the camp. San returns with a jar lid in his hand, and you squint at the thick syrup sitting on it. He reaches forward, slipping a hand behind your back. You brace yourself, helping him assist you into a sitting position.

“Take some honey for your throat, I don’t know how much smoke you inhaled,” he instructs, handing you the jar lid.

You stare at it. There were plenty of cooking utensils around this camp, and this was how he served honey to you? Lifting your eyes, you narrow them into judgmental slits aimed straight towards him.

“We’ve all shared germs here before, but we haven’t shared germs with the ground. I wasn’t about to wash some dirty dishes just so you could have a spoonful of honey. Take it.”

You supposed that made sense, considering the camp had been ransacked earlier. Sighing, you do as he commands and swallow down the sweet fluid. Immediately, it soothes your parched throat.

“Well?” You ask after testing your throat out, satisfied that it doesn’t feel as itchy when you swallow. You hand the lid back to San.

“Long enough,” Yunho answers from over San’s shoulder. You shift your seated position to turn toward the fire, to the rest of the group—Yunho, Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang were all present.

Mingi gives you a small smile, it being the first you two have seen of each other in a while. You return it, though you have to admit that seeing the latter two’s faces eases some pent up tension you hadn’t been aware you’d been holding onto. They looked worn, hair ruffled and some smudges on their face, presumably from their escape from the fire. They seemed unscathed, though.

Yunho adds, “We’re about three hours off from midnight.”

You’d been in a daze of pain, brain addled by smoke, but you briefly remembered Hongjoong’s words. “Didn’t Hongjoong say—” Before you finish the thought, Yunho nods grimly.

“That’s not going to happen,” Jongho speaks up with a sigh. “Sheriff caught them, presumably not long after you and Yunho rode off. Yeosang and I got out of that fire pretty easily, but we stuck around the outskirts of the town—helped put some of the fires out as best as we could without getting caught ourselves, but I drank too much to really do anything worthwhile. We were waiting for you and Wooyoung. He insisted on returning for you.”

“When neither of you met up with us where Wooyoung told us to wait, we assumed the worst, so we went back into the town to take a look around. Everything’s a mess at the moment and the townspeople are pissed. That’s when we got word that Hongjoong and Wooyoung were being held at the jail,” Yeosang supplies.

Jongho nodded. “We went to check it out, just to be sure—y’know how people can talk, sometimes, especially in a small town. But sure enough they were both there. When we saw Wooyoung, we realized he must have gotten you out. We rode back here, figuring this is where you’d return to since it’s the next safest spot.”

“And that’s where we’re at now, after they kind of filled us in on what happened to you and after I came back from scouting the area,” Mingi speaks up now, a frown on his face. “Trying to figure out why Seonghwa is missing, why the camp was ransacked and who was looking for what, and what to do about Boss and Wooyoung.”

You glance around the fire at each of their faces. None of them seem particularly tired, but there’s a mental exhaustion that lingers on their faces. They’d probably been discussing this for hours, you assumed, while you’d slept off what you’d went through.

“Ideally, we have until dawn to make a decision.” You glance over in surprise at Yeosang as he offers up this information. “Public executions aren’t done until noon.”

“That’s not safe!” You protest, to everyone’s surprise. They all glance at you. “Waiting that long to make a decision is really pushing it. What if they decide to do the execution earlier? If the town thinks that Wooyoung and Hongjoong did this, then now they’ve got a bounty for arson added to their heads. If everyone is as angry as Yeosang says, then that means they’re riled up enough to take action sooner rather than later.”

Yeosang purses his lips, frowning, and turning his blue gaze toward the fire in thought.

Yunho sighs. “She’s right. It’s risky.”

“Going back into town is risky, too,” Jongho muttered from where he sat next to him.

San, who had been quiet for most of this time, speaks up. “But when haven’t we been willing to take risks?” He quirks a brow as he asks this, as though it’s the most obvious question in the world. Which, in reality—it is. “Not only that, but working in the cover of the night is better for us. Things could get messier, in more ways than one, if we wait until morning to take care of this.”

“Can I help?” You ask, glancing at San. Since he was the doctor, and your care provider currently, you figured the decision fell onto him. Not that you were about to take no for an answer.

But before he does have a chance to answer, Yunho cuts in, “No, absolutely not!”

Your head snaps toward Yunho, a glare and a frown on your face. “Why not? If I did all the work I did earlier with the stab wound open and bleeding—yet made it out fine, then why can’t I do this with the stab wound stitched closed? Plus, I’m a woman! If you need into the jail, it’ll be easiest for me.”

You turn back towards San then, raising your eyebrows at him, prompting him.

San clears his throat, giving a small one-shouldered shrug. “Well, she’s not exactly wrong…”

“Quack doctor,” Yunho growls from across the fire.

San turns toward Yunho this time, wrinkling his nose at the other. “If you keep saying that, I may fall under the impression you’ve swallowed a duck.”

Ignoring their squabbling, yet again, you turn towards Mingi. “What do you say?”

There’s already a look of concentration written across Mingi’s face. When you direct your question toward him, he glances up, pulling himself out of his thoughts. With Hongjoong gone, and Seonghwa missing—leadership fell to the next in line. Mingi was one of the three founders, one of the two co-founders, to the ATEEZ gang. That left him in charge for now. It seemed to be something he was aware of, since he’d already been deep in thought.

Everyone turns their attention to Mingi, then.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do.” He pushes himself to his feet, “Rosette can help—”

A complaint from Yunho sounds, and Mingi glances at him, but otherwise ignores it.

“San, you’re going to accompany her, for the most part. Make sure her wound doesn’t open on the ride back in. One we get to town, it’s on you, Rosette. You’ll infiltrate the jail like you’ve suggested,” as Mingi speaks, his eyes scan and rest upon everyone surrounding the fire, even yourself.

You’re part of the team, you realize.

Have you ever actually felt uncomfortable with us? Seonghwa’s words ring in the back of your mind.

You always have been a part of their team.

“Yeosang, stay behind in case Seonghwa returns. Everyone else, saddle up. We’re leaving in the next twenty minutes. I want everyone alert and on watch. When Rosette goes into the jail, we’re her backup if anything happens. San, you stay closest to her without revealing yourself.” Mingi pauses briefly, glancing once more around the fire, “Everyone ready?”

[apriumjam]

Satsuriku no Tenshi Light Novel Volume 1 - B3 (Part 4)

Satsuriku no Tenshi - Until Death Do Them Part - B3 (Part 4)

Story by Makoto Sanada, written by Chiren Kina, illustrations by Negiyan, translations by me.

If you want to help out with translations, feel free to contact me!

Prologue | B7 | B6 | B5 | B4 (Part 1 / Part 2) | B3 (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4) | Zack’s Memory || Index

A wide, open room spreads out before her, lit by bright fluorescent lights.

The walls and floor are both pure white. It’s as if the room was just recently built, or perhaps recently repainted. There’s not a speck of dirt to be seen. At the far end of the room is a large monitor and a complicated-looking machine; a wall of clear, bulletproof glass serves as a barrier. In other words, this is a dead end.

“…”

(There’s nowhere to go…)

She knows Zack is drawing nearer even without looking behind her.

Taking in a small breath, Ray stands completely still.

…I can’t go back anymore. There wouldn’t be a point even if I did. There’s nowhere to run…

(And nowhere to go home to…)

“Your mother and father…are waiting for you in hell – ”

As she stands there motionlessly, she dimly remembers what Danny had told her while she had lain upon the operating table.

(Doctor…is hell an even worse place than that house…?)

She slowly turns to face the entrance to the room.

Zack stands there silently, not even a bit out of breath. And the Zack staring at her right now looks different than both the Zack she had first met, and the Zack who had accompanied her to this floor. He stares at her with hollow eyes.

“…”

Wordlessly, slowly, he approaches her. Then, he lifts up the grim reaper-like scythe once more, and brandishes it toward her.

(Zack, I’m sorry…I’m going to make you a liar…)

She slowly closes her eyes.

(…But…if he kills me here, I’m sure that I can go to heaven…)

Secretly, beneath her eyelids, this is what she thinks.

And then –

“Bang!”

A loud noise reverberates throughout the room – so loud it makes her heart seize.

(…!)

A bad feeling stirs within her. After all – that was unmistakably the sound of gunfire.

She opens her eyes wide, and sees Zack kneeling on the ground, hanging his head as he crouches there. Blood spills from his calves, staining the floor like some kind of juice.

“Ahahahah!”

Cathy appears behind the glass along with that insane laughter.

“So sorry for cutting things short just while things were getting good! This is my gun room, so I shot you.” Cathy’s voice is calm as Ray stares at her dumbfoundedly.

“…Gun room.”

“Yes. Just look around at all those guns pointing at you! I can make them aaaall shoot you with just a flick of this button. Amazing, right?��� As she speaks, a number of gun muzzles poke out from the white walls. They’re surrounded at all sides – this definitely isn’t something they can avoid, like at B3’s entrance.

“Ah, putting that aside…watching your fall out just now…was veeery thrilling! Especially you, Zack! You truly are my ideal sinner! You struggle and writhe, but in the end, you truly can’t hold back your impulses! How wonderful…!” Cathy speaks to him in an ecstatic tone of voice – though her words don’t match her appearance of a lovestruck maiden. Just remembering how Zack had looked as he had abruptly changed expression and given chase after Ray makes Cathy tremble in excitement.

“…Shut…up…!” Zack slowly stands, dragging himself to his feet, and glowers at Cathy from behind the wall.

“…Zack!” Reacting to his voice, Ray instinctively rushes up to him.

“Stay away! I’ll kill you!” he barks out in rejection, glaring at her sharply.

“See? It seemed like you got a little control back from the pain, but look at you. You just can’t…hold back, can you?” Cathy licks her lips as she watches Zack desperately trying to stop himself from raising a hand against Ray. She speaks with the full intent of provoking him.

“Aah?! You just try to piss everyone off! I’ll kill ya!”

“Ahahahah, I only speak the truth. And the one who is going to be killed is the sinner – in other words, you, Zack. …Look. Rachel Gardner. I’ll give you this.”

From behind the bulletproof glass, Cathy tosses a red gun over to land at Ray’s feet, as if it were a piece of trash.

“You’ll be even with that, right? Now, kill each other! And then I’ll give the winner an even more splendid punishment!” She laughs shrilly, sounding entertained from the bottom of her heart.

In her insane mind, she vividly sees Zack and Ray’s beautiful battle. Her chest bursts with her insatiable desire to see it, to see it now.

(Kill each other – )

After a brief silence –

“…What’s the point in doing something like that?” Ray asks disinterestedly. Cathy’s expression changes immediately.

“Haah? Oh, stop it. You truly are boring. What’s the point in looking for something like meaning? Do you think something will come out of it? A sinner can’t accomplish anything. So there’s no need to look for meanings in anything you do.”

Cathy’s expression doesn’t fit a beautiful woman at all.

(…Boring…)

Ray falls into silence once more.

“…How fuckin’ boring…being some doll’s tool…”

(Zack thinks I’m boring, too…)

Did mom and dad not listen to me…because they also thought I was boring…?

(…But all I wanted…was to have a puppy…)

Why did things turn out this way?

On that cold night, the puppy had stared at her from out of that dirty, broken cardboard box, as if asking for helped. Thinking of that lovely face, Ray gently leans down to pick up the gun.

(It’s heavy…)

That feeling causes Ray’s memories to grow even more vivid.

“Now, entertain me…!”

Cathy’s voice grows more excited. She sees Ray’s movement as a signal that her awaited match is about to start.

(…Entertain…)

…But that wasn’t…entertaining…

“If yer gonna shoot, hurry up,” Zack says. The girl stands motionlessly in front of him, not even lifting the gun to point it at him.

“Hey, could it be, you’re afraid of pulling the trigger? You can’t escape from being a boring, uninteresting girl?” Cathy attempts to goad her into action. It’s almost like Ray really has become a doll.

“…No.” Staring fixatedly at the gun she holds, she says this clearly.

“Hey, Ray, even if ya don’t shoot me, I can’t stop myself from killing!” Zack yells, his eyebrows furrowing beneath his bandages.

The pointed end of the scythe trembles near the skin of Ray’s pale neck, skin which has never been burnt by the sun. But the blade doesn’t feel cold anymore.

“…I won’t shoot you.” After looking away for a moment, she says this firmly and resolutely.

“…That so. But I wanna kill so bad I can’t help it!” Zack’s voice is mixed with sorrow and frustration.

(Argh, shit!)

I don’t wanna kill ya like this. This is fuckin’ humiliating. I can’t even control myself. I know I don’t wanna kill ya right now.

But he can’t – stop.

(I wanna kill…)

When I try to think, that’s all I can think about. I want to feel that thrill so much. But if I killed you right now, I wouldn’t. All I want to do…is kill someone with my own two hands. I feel like I’m going insane.

“Haah…haah…”

Zack looks as if he’s trying to stop himself. His breathing becomes more and more ragged.

“…I’m sorry. I’m going to make you kill me while I’m still boring.” Ray sounds as if she understands everything.

“Yeah, yer right…! I’ll feel like shit! That’s why I told ya t’ shoot me already! Ya won’t miss from this range!” Halfway through, his voice changes as if to try to persuade her.

“…I won’t shoot you.” This is her will. It won’t change, no matter what happens.

(I won’t kill Zack…)

Because Zack swore he would kill me –

“Hahahah…what are ya sayin’ at a time like this? Ah, but…that’s right, ya want me t’ kill ya.” Zack’s mouth curves as he laughs humourlessly. But Ray tilts her head to the side.

“That’s true, but that’s not it. …This is my will – ”

And, within the room cloaked in silence, Ray begins to speak.

“I’m fine being killed by you. But…I don’t want…I don’t want this to turn out the way that woman wants. After all…Zack, you and I…aren’t tools.”

She speaks, staring intently into Zack’s eyes.

“So…killing, and being killed…are our own choices.”

And Zack feels as if all his strength leaves him.

…I’m not a tool.

That’s right…that’s right. It’s easy. Why didn’t I realise it before? I really am an idiot.

Aah, Ray. It’s like ya said…killing and being killed are both our choices.

‘Cause if they aren’t, then what the hell are they?

(And I wouldn’t make a pointless promise in the first place – )

“…Hahahahah!”

Zack gives out a large laugh, as if reclaiming his sanity.

“Hey, Ray…what are ya doin’, sayin’ interestin’ stuff now? Aah, I can’t hold back anymore! Hey, at least give me a smile! Now!”

Somewhat agitated, he sidles up to her.

(…Smile.)

Ray closes her eyes.

…When was the last time I smiled?

She feels like it had been when she had taken the puppy home, but she can’t remember.

How did I smile back then? I feel like I always smiled when I saw something cute.

And…I liked the sound of that music box. My favourite music box.

Mom bought it for me when I was seven years old. I was so happy. I listened to it all night. Because listening to that sound always made me just a bit happy…

(I wonder if I’ll be able to smile if I remember that music…)

“…”

She slowly opens her eyes, and looks at Zack.

And shows him a smile with just the corner of her lips, with eyes that look as if they reflect the very end of the world.

“…What a shitty smile. …Yer eyes really are dead.”

That awkward expression seems to sap up the last of his strength. He slowly lifts his scythe, keeping it away from her.

“…But…if yer smile becomes real…it’ll be great. Just imaginin’ myself killin’ ya like that…makes me smile better than anyone else.”

He stares at the monstrous face, wrapped in bandages, reflected back at him from the gleaming blade. And then, he shouts in a voice as loud as the very first time they had met:

“So good…that I could just kill myself!”

And then, he stabs himself in his abdomen with his own scythe, as hard as he can.

(…!)

Dark red blood splatters across Ray’s vision.

“…Zack…!”

(What just happened…?)

She can’t grasp the situation. Overwhelmed with confusion, she rushes up to him.

“What?!” Cathy’s voice rises threateningly.

Zack’s actions have completely and utterly surpassed her expectations. Rather than confused, like Ray is, she’s also enraged. Using the machine, she opens the door in the glass wall. Then, she advances upon Ray, and slaps her pale cheek as hard as she can.

(Ow…)

As if remembering something from the impact of that blow, for an instant, Ray looks up at Cathy with eyes full of hatred.

“Ugh, disgusting! I was wrong about you! You’re a failure of a sinner! Even though I gave you that gun, and all you had to do was pull the trigger! And to think that Isaac Foster was so stupid that he would kill himself to satisfy his own urges – how disappointing!”

Cathy almost sounds as if in mourning. This is the utterly worst situation that could have happened – it doesn’t look like anything she had pictured at all.

(I wanted to see Zack kill Rachel, unable to help himself…! And then I wanted to slowly, carefully take my time punishing him…this has put a damper on everything…!)

As she watches the bright red blood seep from Zack’s wound, she bites her own lips – a vivid red of the same colour.

“Aaah…I wish Zack had been the one left. He would have surely looked better covered in bullet holes…even if you are a sinner, you’re completely boring! Oh, Rachel…you’re so, so boring…!”

Cathy hits Ray on the cheek with all her strength once more, venting her anger.

(…It hurts…)

Ray closes her eyes for an instant. Beneath her eyelids, she can see her mother and father shouting and snarling at one another as they quarrel.

She doesn’t know when it had started anymore. But her father always beat her mother when they fought. It had been painful, and maybe that was why her mother had gone mad. Because her mom hadn’t been that way when she had bought the music box for her…

(But I’m boring now, so that’s why I’m being kicked…? By this woman…)

“…I don’t remember you having the right to decide something like that.” Ray’s voice now has a bit of anger as she looks into the woman’s lined eyes.

“Hah? You’re trying to defy me, you failure of a sinner? Hey…why did someone as boring as you…even come here?”

Cathy looks down at Ray, her large eyes flaring up despite her discomfort at the girl’s actions.

“…Uugh…”

At that moment, a soft groan reaches Ray’s and Cathy’s ears. Zack.

Ray reflexively turns to look at him. The man convulses and twitches slightly.

“…Oh my, he’s still alive! He really is just like a monster…how wonderful!”

Cathy’s abrupt change in attitude is amazing. She rushes up to him as if running to her lover.

“…Are you going to kill him?” Ray asks.

“Of course. After all, I’m the only one who can judge such a splendid sinner…” Cathy answers, as if it should be obvious.

And then, Cathy recalls how Zack had looked on B6 – before he had become a sacrifice, he had been killing sacrifices himself. And his expression had been solely that of a murderer. Seeing him through her cameras – remembering him now – causes a vivid chill to rush through her. It had been so stimulating to see him kill the sacrifices as his instincts and desires bade him to. So unlike her…

(But because of this bitch, he became a sacrifice…)

But, to tell the truth, this is convenient.

Because of her, I can punish him.

“Ahahahah!”

Simply imagining herself killing him has her laughing uncontrollably.

I’ll be the one to execute him…! Because I’m the only condemner here!

(I wonder what face he’ll make as he dies? I can’t wait to see…my chest is absolutely burning!)

…Ring.

And from somewhere, a small bell rings. Of course, Ray is the only one to hear it.

“…Stop.”

As if reacting to that sound, Ray points the gun at Cathy, who looks agitated. Ray’s expression is stiff.

“Oh, my…Rachel, what are you doing now? You want to shoot me? But, sorry to say…that gun wasn’t loaded from the very start! Ahahahah! However…I’m a little impressed by your attitude to point that at me.”

Cathy sneers at Ray mockingly. To her, the girl looks like nothing more than a small deer.

(It’s not…loaded…?)

Seeing Ray waver uncertainly, Cathy reaches into her tight skirt with a smirk. She pulls out a small handgun.

“Bang!”

Her tone is jesting. But she points at the red gun Ray holds with keen precision and shoots it out of her small hand.

“Heheheh…now then, I’ll keep you alive so I can punish you.”

Cathy touches Zack’s body with her red gloved-hands.

Ring…

In that moment, Ray hears that ring again.

(…A blue…full moon…)

When she closes her eyes for just a second, she sees that blue moon. That large, almost artificially blue full moon…

Yes…she remembers the night of that blue moon very well…

Beneath the small light hanging from the ceiling, a man straddles a woman. His face is terrifying, monstrous. The man stabs the woman’s body over and over and over again. She doesn’t move at all, like a doll.

As she had looked upon that scene, she had wished it was a dream. But it wasn’t.

…What happened after, too…

“…No.”

Ray opens her eyes. She mumbles as if waking from a dream, and reaches into the purse slung about her shoulder.

(…I shouldn’t be alive…)

So –

“…I won’t let you kill Zack. Because he’s the one who is going to kill me.”

And then, almost like magic, she pulls a black handgun out of her purse, and points it at Cathy unwaveringly.

In an instant, Cathy removes herself from Zack, and whirls to face the girl.

“…Where did you get that?!” Her face twists in confusion.

One would never believe that Ray were wielding a gun with that calm face of hers.

“Bang.”

And, without even an atom of hesitation, she shoots Cathy in the abdomen.

“…!”

Cathy is mute from astonishment. She could have never expected this to happen.

(Why does she have a gun…? I don’t understand…)

But she doesn’t have time to wonder about her situation right now. A sharp pain from her abdomen makes her unable to stand. She falls to the ground.

“Aaargh…! Where did you get that gun?!” she screams, trying to drown out the pain.

“…” Ray silently looks down at her. Her eyes are cold. They hide no emotion.

But why? For an instant, as Cathy looks into those emotionless eyes and sees herself reflected in them, she feels a thrill.

“Ahahah! Rachel, you’ve shown your true colours! …Amazing!”

Cathy’s laughter becomes more and more deranged as she bathes in that strange sensation. She crawls along the floor, drawing nearer to Ray’s legs.

(…Why does she look so happy…?)

Ray tilts her head at the abnormality of the situation. For some reason, Cathy’s expression is creepily delighted to her.

“Hey, Rachel. I’ll judge you, okay…? No, I will judge you…I’ll judge the demon hiding beneath that composed face of yours…!”

Cathy speaks almost coquettishly at first as she staggers to her feet; then her voice grows rougher. She holds her gun up to point it at Ray.

“…Shut up.”

Someone whispers.

That harsh tone isn’t Ray’s.

“Eh?”

Slowly, Cathy turns around. Behind her stands Zack, thirsty for blood.

“What are ya lookin’ so happy for when ya got shot, you sadomasochistic bitch?” He sounds groggy, as if he’s just gotten up from bed. He lifts his scythe.

“’Cause of yer annoyin’ voice, I wanna kill so bad…that I woke up!”

With a bout of insane laughter, Zack slices off Cathy’s pale arm. For a second, she doesn’t recognise the shape as if falls in an arc.

“Aaargh?!” The moment she realises that arm to be hers, a hot pain of the likes she’s never felt before rushes through her body. Helplessly, lets out a scream of anguish.

“This…can’t be real…”

Her vision swims as she looks up at Zack with an expression of despair.

(Why…? I was going to punish Zack…!)

I’m not a sinner. I’m always right. So it’s not right for me to be killed…

“This is reality! Wake up!” Zack yells. He sounds as if he’s talking to both himself and to her. Then, he slices Cathy’s abdomen from top to bottom. Cathy falls, her body twisting unnaturally. Zack seems satisfied as he looks upon her and smiles.

“…Ah, but…guess ya fell asleep anyway.”

His expression turns to disgust as he looks down at Cathy’s body, lying on the ground like a motionless doll.

(Aah…this is the worst…that I would be killed by a sinner…)

Cathy’s eyes close to the world that whirls around her, as if to sleep. Her mascara is perfectly applied to her long eyelashes.

(But…it’s awful, but…it’s wonderful…)

She laughs. She has been killed by Zack.

And then, in the pool of her own blood, like melting chocolate, she stops breathing.

She will never wake up. She can’t judge people as good or bad anymore.

In her life, she had been a sheltered girl; she had fallen into ruin due to troubles in her family; and then she had worked at a jail. There was only one thing that remained the same throughout all the lives she had led. And that was that she judged sinners.

(…I am…the condemner…)

All Cathy knows is that in the darkness, there are no good or bad people.

▲▽

“…Zack.”

As Cathy’s vision grows dark, Ray rushes to Zack’s side as quickly as she can.

“Yeah…” Zack looks down at her with a somewhat uncomfortable expression. All the madness has left him.

“Zack…are you okay?”

(…Did the poison wear off…?)

Ray feels relieved to hear his gentle voice.

“Aah?! My stomach hurts, what d’ya think?!” Zack answers briskly.

“…”

(His stomach hurts…?)

Ray looks astonished.

She didn’t think she would hear those words from someone who had cut themselves a few minutes ago. After all, Zack looks calm and composed, to the point she nearly forgets her worry.

(…So he can’t be okay. But…he looks fine. But if I’m too pushy, he’ll get upset…)

“Um…don’t push yourself too much.”

After careful consideration, this is what she says.

“Shut up. You worry about yerself.”

But Zack is annoyed at her concern, and speaks with a delight one would not associate to an injured man.

“Anyway, did ya see her face?!”

“…Yeah.”

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by how much energy he has, she gives a quiet nod.

“That was great! And ya did pretty good, too!” Zack grins as he recalls the expression of despair Cathy had made when he had raised his weapon at her. It was as if she had become just a normal woman. Simply remembering that wretched face has Zack in a good mood. He feels as if all his pain might simply melt away.

“…Really?”

“Yeah! I feel all better now!”

“…That’s good.” Looking at Zack’s satisfied expression, Ray can’t help but feel rather complicated.

(That woman really did end up getting killed by him after all…)

She feels a bit as if she’s been defeated by something.

(I wonder…if Zack had killed me back then, if I would be in heaven now.)

She’s lost in thought for a moment as she thinks of that place; a place no one on this world has ever been to.

“So, now that the bitch is gone, let’s go.”

Zack lightly smacks Ray on the top of the head as she continues to look down at the ground glumly.

“Eh…? Your stomach…are you okay now?”

“Ah? It just hurts a little, it’s nothin’,” he replies. It’s true that he’s in pain. But – it almost doesn’t seem like he’s cut himself that deep. The pain is ebbing away. And that’s impossible – but Zack doesn’t wonder about it.

All he does is think privately to himself – I really might be a monster.

Ray can only be surprised at Zack’s resilience. After getting shocked and escaping from a room of poison gas, he seems to be lively and energetic. It’s true that he has a resilience normal people don’t have.

“Okay…I’m sure there’s an elevator somewhere ahead.”

Whilst yet finding his apparent immortality to be utterly baffling, the girl points to the other side of the glass wall.

“Then let’s get goin’.”

“Okay…”

(…Is he really all right?)

In the room with Cathy’s large machine is a passageway marked EV. Ray predicts that this means it leads to the elevator. However, the door is locked.

“Hey, Ray. The door won’t open,” Zack says, kicking it.

“Wait. I’ll open it now.” Ray flicks the switch that says EV up. The machine also has numerous other buttons and switches, like “electric chair”, “dolls”, “applause”, and so on.

“Oh, it’s open now.”

“It looks like she was using that machine to do all sorts of things…”

“Aah? She was doin’ somethin’ that stupid? What an annoyin’ person.” Zack’s statement is intermingled with a yawn.

“Yeah.” Ray nods as she recalls Cathy with cold eyes. That is an expression Ray shows when she’s angry. But Zack doesn’t notice that slight change.

“Hey, Zack.”

“What is it?”

“…We aren’t tools.” As if to push away the rage she feels toward Cathy, Ray repeats the words she had said earlier.

“Yeah, we aren’t.” Laughing lightly, Zack turns his back on Cathy’s dead body.

“We goin’?”

“Yeah.”

Then, the two of them finally proceed through the now open door.

▲▽

Walking down the hall, they find that there really is an elevator there. Ray pushes the up button. But the doors don’t open. No matter how many times she presses the button, the elevator doesn’t give any indication that it will open for them.

(…Why?)

“…The elevator won’t work.” Ray tilts her head in confusion as she glances toward Zack.

“Huh? We came all this way, ‘n this happens. Maybe ya gotta use that machine?” Zack clicks his tongue.

“Maybe, but I didn’t see a switch like that…”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“I’ll think of a way to open it…”

“Hurry up, my stomach hurts.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

(Is there some sort of mechanism…?)

Ray is somewhat worried. No matter how Zack appears to be, it’s obvious that they must get out of here quickly and treat his injury. Because it’s still slowly bleeding.

(But…is it because he won’t kill me unless the wound is healed…?)

As she comes upon that strange thought, she suddenly realises that there is something written on the opposite wall to the elevator.

“If you wish to open the door, pronounce your name to God.

“If you are free of lies, give the name that resides within you,

“And then know yourself.

“However, know that God has no need of the impure.”

There is nothing else that would appear to point toward how to open the door. Therefore, Ray can only assume that this must be a hint.

(If you wish to open the door, give your name to God…)

“Rachel Gardner.”

With a small voice, Ray faces the elevators and whispers her name. However, the doors don’t open.

(So that didn’t work…)

As if to divert her gaze from the truth, Ray looks away.

(Or maybe – )

“Hey, Zack…I want you to say your full name in front of the elevator.”

With just a slight amount of pain in her expression, Ray asks this of Zack.

“Aah? Why?” His face twists in a scowl.

“Because the doors might open…” Her voice sounds like it might fade at any moment.

“Your name won’t work?”

“…No.”

(…God has no need of the impure…)

The words scrawl across her vision. They pierce her heart.

“Well, whatever…Isaac Foster.”

Despite feeling confused by Ray’s instructions, the man recites his name as asked. And then, with splendid timing, the doors indeed open. It’s as if someone had been operating the elevator from somewhere else.

“What the hell, seriously?!”

Zack seems utterly delighted, almost viewing the door’s trick as some sort of magic. He quickly steps into the elevator.

(It opened…so, my name wasn’t good…)

I really am…

Her heart throbs in her chest. With a grim but determined expression, Ray embarks upon the elevator as well.

▲▽

“Hey, Zack…were you happy when you cut open your own stomach?” Ray asks as the elevator finally begins to move.

“Huh? Don’t compare me t’ that sadomasochistic bitch. I just thought it would be better than killin’ ya when ya got that borin’ face, and then gettin’ killed by her.” Zack’s expression is somewhat bitter as he replies.

“I see…”

“…Anyway, that gun ya used wasn’t hers. Where’d ya get it?” His voice is somewhat sharp now.

“…That was my gun…”

Despite feeling somewhat shocked, she replies carefully.

“Where were ya hidin’ that thing?”

“…I wasn’t hiding it. It was in my purse. Wrapped in a handkerchief…I witnessed a murder, so, I’ve always…”

“…Then why didncha use that in the first place?”

“…I won’t kill myself. Because God won’t allow it.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“And, you’re the one who is going to kill me.” Her declaration is resolute, as if to interrupt him – or perhaps to put this topic of discussion behind them.

“Haah…I can’t really tell if yer smart or stupid. …Well, whatever. Ya were right t’ shoot her back then. Yer timing was so good, just rememberin’ it makes me want t’ laugh.” Zack smiles gleefully.

“…You’re in a good mood,” Ray says.

She isn’t sure why, but seeing him look so happy makes her happy as well. That’s what she feels.

“…I guess so. You are, too…yeah?”

But – she doesn’t notice that his voice grows softer and softer.

After a short while, the elevator doors open with what sounds like a thunk. They’ve probably arrived at B2.

Ray takes a single step into the hallway. This floor smells sweet. And the hall is lined with numerous stained-glass windows, almost like a church.

(Pretty…)

She stares down the hallway in fascination for a short time.

However, for some reason, she can’t sense Zack coming out behind her at all.

“…Zack…?”

A terrible feeling assails her from head to toe. Slowly, she turns around.

(…Eh?)

Her gaze falls upon Zack – quietly lying down on the floor in the elevator.

A large pool of blood has formed beneath him from the wound he had given himself earlier.

(…Was that sound earlier…from when he fell…?)

(…He really wasn’t okay…)

Aah…

No…

No…

No, Zack, no…I don’t want this.

Even though he swore he would kill me. Even though he swore to God.

Ray rushes into the elevator and tightly grasps one of Zack’s hands, as if in prayer. Though this hand had previously brought countless people to despair – to Ray, that large hand was that of an angel’s, an angel who would lead her to heaven.

“…Zack…!”

Ray calls his name from the very bottom of her heart, trying to convey those emotions, wishing that he would open his eyes.

In a hollow world that doesn’t contain even despair, Zack faintly hears Ray pleadingly calling his name.

Previous | Next

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[rex101111]

Swipes of Sword And Fan 12

Fear and Guilt.

This chapter has some gore in it, not like...buckets of it or whatever but worth mentioning here. Also! I actually started on a different story for this chapter but it kinda...stalled, so I went with this one which I managed to write down...almost in one day. Nice.

Enjoy!

Anji loves the sound of Baiken's laugh. It’s a rare pleasure, full and loud and floating out of the top of her throat and bursting from her lungs, her shoulders shaking and her hand slapping her knee. When Baiken laughs, she laughs with her entire body and soul.

She was laughing like that now, in front of him, in the dark yet illuminated, her whole form trembling with her mirth. Or, rather, her madness. As she laughs and shakes, drops of deep, dark red fall from her, every drop wipes away the shadows around them both, and every revelation is a shock of gore and savagery.

Bodies, piles and pits and hills of them stretching out into the horizon, if he lingers on a few select bodies, he thinks he recognizes them. A torn yellow ribbon, a broken monocle, a union jack bandana ripped and bloodied, a black hat held tightly in the death grip of a hideously young corpse dressed in cheerful orange.

In the middle of all that death stands the lone samurai, screaming out her victory in bloody peals of laughter. She's smiling too, grinning even, widely and brightly, and as she turns to him in her brutal cheer he can see her teeth are a pure, shining white.

There's joy there, somewhere, hidden in that one eye, beneath all insanity, more joy than he thinks Baiken has ever shown him in all the years they've known each other. "Look," she says, pointing to her feet with her sword, the weapon gleaming and drenched in her hand. "I've done it!"

He looks down, sees white robes trimmed with black and topped with a hoodie, the body wrapped up in the hoodie is mangled and ravaged beyond all recognition, limbs twisted if not missing and bones sticking out of the many deep slashes and stabs covering it. A smoking stump is all that's left of the head.

All in all, it's about what he expected her to do to Asuka if she ever found him.

"So you did." He says, his voice finally finding him, his throat is dry and his mind is sluggish with shock at that he sees…and all that he sees in her. "He's…you did it."

"They all tried to stop me." Her voice is wrong, twitchy and scratchy and giddy in a way only a monster could manage, and he knew a monster is the last thing Baiken would ever be. "All of them, the king and his gear queen, the monster who tried to be a man," she spits on a corpse with black, draconic wings. "All of them, and I killed them all!"

He rushes forward, seizes her by her shoulders and shakes her, a stab of ice cold fear going through his heart. "Baiken, look at me." She laughs at him, his worry amusing, his fear hilarious. "Baiken! This isn't you-!"

"Isn't it?" She growls, yanks his arms from her and stomps away with another bloody laugh. "Blood and death is all I've ever been, for the moment a monster darkened the skies of my home, that is all I will ever be." She directs a chilling smile his way, her teeth sharpen in the stark shadows. "You know this is true, who knows me better than Anji Mito?" Her smile twists into a snarl. "Who would know me better, then the gnat constantly buzzing at my ear, no matter how many times I've tried to swat it?"

The glower she sends his way is unlike any annoyed glare he ever saw from her, hatred, pure and burning stabs his lungs and it takes every scrap of strength he has to even breath and take another step towards her. "Why?" He trembles, eyes flitting over the bodies in rapid succession (a bloodied nun habit, a broken guitar, a ripped eyepatch), ice clawing at his veins, "why would you do this? All these people��Baiken some of them-"

"Because they forgave him!" She kicks the prone and mangled body of the Gear Maker, twice more before stomping on it and then wiping her foot like it was a burning bag of dog shit. "All the blood on his hands, soaking them to the bone, and they just threw it away!" She spits on the body again, "millions of lives, made pointless because…" She breathes heavily, laughs again, but this time it is bitter and hollow, her voice calming, "because they wanted to move on…to forget…" She sighs, her whole body still before she slowly turns her gaze towards him again, the depth of the sorrow in it drowning him, "did you forget too Anji? Forget that night, full of rain and fire?"

"Never." He hisses, finally reaching her again, gripping her shoulders with shaking hands. "I will never forget that night, my home burned that night along with yours, it was our people that perished."

"You allied with him." She accuses, once again stepping away from his reach, the anger on her face diluted with pain and betrayal, "you found the one responsible for all that death and you placed yourself at his ear to offer advice." She narrows her eye at him. "Your hands are as bloody as mine and his, maybe even more." She scowls, "guilty, like all those who would pardon him."

"I left!" He shouts, voice cracking in panic, arms gesturing wildly, "I left because of you! I couldn't hurt you!"

"Bastard!" She slaps him as she screams, "what was all that bullshit about your home and our people!?" She slaps him again as he tries to step towards her, "stay where you are! If you remembered that night, if you cared for me as you claim, why did you stand with him in the first place!?"

"BECAUSE I WAS A COWARD!"

The darkness swarms them both, once more hiding the corpses from sight and leaving him alone with her. He is breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face as he stands before her. Her face is stone, unimpressed but passing no judgment, waiting for him.

"You became death that night," he pants, putting a hand to his eyes. "I was consumed by it. Every night after a miasma of burning bodies and lifeless faces that refused to go away." He laughs this time, the sound mixing with a sob in his throat, "I could not escape it, this mind numbing fear, I was willing to do anything to avoid it, to flee as far as I could from it."

She touches him of a sudden, her hand lightly brushing his cheek as she gives him a smile so gentle he dares not breathe for fear of blowing it away. "Except hurt me?" She chuckles lowly with a fond shake of her head. "Dumb bastard, that, of all things, that was your line?"

He answers with a chuckle of his own, "does that truly surprise you?"

She swipes her thumb over a trail of tears, sighing quietly before falling silence.

He brings up his hand to hold hers with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Do you still consider me guilty?"  

"Do you deny that you are?"

He doesn't answer for a long while, the silence of this dark place drowning out the beat of his heart. Soon he sighs again…and shakes his head. "Never. For all the truths I've twisted, I will never lie to you."

She nods heavily, taking a few steps away, her sword appearing in her hand again. "Then you know, there's still one more grave to dig."

He lets out a shaking breath before he spreads his arms wide, opening up his heart to her with a laugh and an easy smile. "I am, as always, yours." The smile falters when she shakes her head. "Baiken?"

"No Anji." She says softly, sadly, lifting the blade in the air. "Not yours."

Terror, deeper than anything than he ever felt for the shadow of Justice, struck his heart and drove the air out of his lungs, "no…"

"When one seeks revenge, "she intones lightly, gaze passive to the horrid agony and fear Anji must be showing. "One must dig two graves." Her smile grows a bit, a mockery of the smile she would give him in private, when only Anji and the shadows could see her. "The Gear Makers' grave is dug."

His feet are rooted, he cannot move. "No." He searches for Zessen, but they are gone. "No!"

"The only one left is…"

"Baiken!"

The sword flips, its edge pointed directly at her heart.

"Mine."

He bolts awake, sweat soaking his sleepwear to the point it sticks to his skin, heart pounding on his ribcage hard enough to make him flinch in pain. His twitches left and right almost on animal instinct, desperation to find a shock of pink hair in a darkened corner of the…the…oh.

Inn room. They're at an inn. He and Baiken both, they went to sleep, and then the-

"Anji?" His eyes snap to the sound, he sees Baiken slowly drag herself out of the covers, her clothes loose around her shoulders as she blinks up at him in mixed confusion and drowsy annoyance, "what happ-" She stops as she looks at him, her shoulders sagging as an odd look crosses her face.

"Sorry." He chokes out in a dry voice, clearing his throat, "didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep I'll-" He stops short as she places a hand on his cheek, the gentle touch brings a spine freezing echo of the dream, and he nearly bolts before he can stop himself. "I-"

"Hush." She says simply, her gaze searching, focused, considering him for a long moment. He only realizes he'd been crying when she, again like the dream, brushes her thumb to wipe one away. "You were tossing and turning before you sat up…what was it about?"

Anji almost laughs over the fact that she didn't even need to ask why he awoke like he did, but all he manages is a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Nothing I'm not used to."

A flat gaze falls on him, and this time he does bark out a quick laugh, her scarred eyebrow lifting a couple inches, "you need to get better at lying."

"To you?" He chuckles, inwardly wondering when his dream would content itself to stay in his head. "Never."

She pinches his cheek for a quick and painful moment before shaking her head and getting up from the futon, groaning as she did and making her way to a cupboard. He's still busy rubbing the feeling back into his cheek when she sits back down with her sake gourd in her hand and shoves it into his chest.

"What?" He looks between the gourd and the samurai, who was resting her face on the heel of her palm as she was watching him. "This-you don't need to-"

"You're not going back to sleep." She says simply, no room for question in his tone. "So neither am I." She pokes the bottom of the gourd with a foot. "Now, drink." Her gaze softens mildly as she sees him wiping what was left of his tears. "We don't have to talk, if you don't have anything you want me to hear."

He stares into the mouth of the gourd for a long moment, watching the liquid inside by the moonlight reflecting on it, before he takes a deep breath and lifts it to his lips for an even longer gulp.

He hands it back to her when he finishes, and she matches his gulp with one of her own.

"Baiken." He says of a sudden, the samurai looking at him from the corner of her eye as she hands him back the gourd. "Was there ever a time…" He takes another deep breath, willing for the alcohol to numb his nerves. "Did you ever wish…to burn the world down, for what happened to you? To all of us?"

She looks out the window, the light of the moon bringing all the various scars on her face into sharp relief and shining in her eye. "Once." She said after a long pause, still not looking at him. "There was a time, a few years back, when I was close to just…throwing the whole world away, ready to bring my blade down on anyone who would dare cross my path."

He takes another long sip of sake, a pit forming in his gut as he scowls morosely…before she continues.

"Like I said though, once, was, past tense." She waves the thought off like a pesky fly at her ear. "Something changed my mind and the possibility never came to me after that."

"Something?" He says incredulously, the late hour dulling his thoughts along with the alcohol. "What do you mean by something?"

She finally turns to face him, her eyebrow once more climbing up a few inches as she leveled a blank look at him.

It takes another heavy moment for her answer to sink in properly into his addled mind, and a fierce burning red fills his face when it does. "…oh."

She snatches the gourd from his limp hands, hiding her smile as she took another large gulp. "Idiot."

(At some point, they fall asleep, Anji doesn't know for sure when, but when he opens his eyes again, it's well past sunrise, and he and Baiken are bundled up on the futon, her ear right over his heart.

She woke soon after, only lifting her head enough to look at him, "sleep better?" His only answer was a smile that reached his eyes, so she hummed laid her head back over his heart. "Good.)

[sarahjtrash]

The Dreadful Dark

Nessian, 1.9K, Rated T

Summary: All Nesta wanted was a the next book in her series. Instead, she got an unwanted adventure all her own. Enjoy!

-o-0-o-

It was three in the morning.

Three in the morning, and Nesta was insane enough to be outside in the Velaris winter. 
Her coat was pulled so tight against her body that it felt like a human corset. Her breath curled in front of her, and her tote bag bounced against her side.

Nesta Archeron was nothing if not determined

There was one book store in Velaris that offered twenty-hour hour service. Only half an hour ago, she’d finished the second book in the series, and Nesta would be damned if she didn’t start the next one immediately.

She walked briskly, fueled by the cold and her need to start the next book.  She avoided the crowded main streets, instead following quieter residential ones as she trudged home, book already purchased. Despite her strange route, Nesta never saw a single soul. Rarely was she awake this late, but many in this city opted to sleep in the day and live for the night. The only person she had seen was the bookseller who seemed a cagey.

As she passed rows of brownstones, her shadow grew longer as the street lamps next to her flickered out. Nesta tensed, and quickened her pace. All she needed was to get to the alley. The townhouse was barely a two minutes walk from there. And then she could curl up in bed, start her book, and no one would be the wiser. None of that would matter though, if she froze to death before she reached that stupid alley.

Her slippers muffled her steps.

She glanced over her shoulder, noting nothing, before turning into the alley. Cassian would probably kill her for not sticking to main streets, but he could burn in hell. At least he’d be warm there.

Light at the end of the alley slowly drifted from the other end. The darkness encompassing her dissipated. Nesta pushed some of her hair out of her face. Distantly, she heard someone approaching. Their gait inconsistent, as if they had too much fun drinking.

When she turned to look, though, there was no drunk patron. No, a man stood not six inches behind her. A wicked grin consumed his face as he thrust a hidden blade into her stomach. 

Instantly, she doubled over and was pushed to the ground. She managed to roll onto her back before someone pinned her and the pain spread through her gut.

“Hello Emissary,” her assailant purred, breath licking her ear.

Nesta tried to squirm, trying any tactic to remember that Cassian had taught her. But she could barely move. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Her legs could move, but it made her stomach burn. She inched her fingers towards her gut and found them wet.

Stabbed. She’d been stabbed.

Nesta groaned in a mix of frustration and pain.

“That’s right,” the man hissed as he roughly shoved his hand on her mouth. “Don’t you even dare to try and call for help.”

Nesta bit his hand. He swore but kept her mouth covered. Nesta bucked her legs, trying to upend her attacker.

“Bitch,” he snarled as he grabbed her hand from under his leg, pined it above her, driving a knife straight through it.

Nesta’s shriek was completely muffled behind his hand. Her thrashing increased against the pain in her wrist and her stomach. She felt her night gown being rucked up and panic flooded her veins.

There were two people.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not supposed to rape you,” the second man snorted as his hands squeezed her upper thigh. Nesta wanted to vomit at the use of Cassian’s nickname.

Her screams increased and she tried to dig into her magic reserves. Maybe she couldn’t be physical with them, but she could increate them into oblivion. When she reached, though, she found them empty. Her stomach wasn’t even clotting and she could feel the blood seeping through her nightgown.

Her magic could not fail her now.

The man on top of her laughed. “It’s faebane, witch. You’re as good as dead with your wounds. Clearly, the High Lord needs to watch his little Circle more. Would you shut up?”He backhanded her. Nesta kept squirming and hollering under his hand. Her teeth continued to try and bite him.

“We could make this so much easier if you just stopped. That Commander needs to watch his little whore more—” he licked her neck—“Delicious. I see why he likes his little hellcat. Kier preferred us to get your sister,  but any one of the three of you would do.”

Nesta stopped moving.

Kier.

The bloody streets were empty because of the Courtiers from the Night Court. Rhys told everyone in the city to avoid the streets at night during their visits. No one would even risk leaving their house tonight. They would not show her mercy, and no one would help her.

Her breath became shallow. Her vision blurred.

The second attacker’s freezing hands gripped her legs tighter and slide up.

Nesta felt her power draining the longer that stupid dagger pierced her wrist.

Her vision was fogging over, blurring at the edges. She shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it.

Holy Gods. She might die. Holy Gods. She might die. Holy Gods. She was going to die.

She was going to die. Her throat burned at her screams. It felt like she might choke to death, and she released a small whimper.

The man at her legs grunted, presumably at her sounds. Nesta felt him leave her legs. She closed her eyes begging someone to help her.

Please.

The world felt like fell off its axis. More grunting. Nesta willed herself to pass out, it was cruel of the mother to make her stay conscious for this.

The man on top of her turned his head.

“Ba—“ he suddenly flew off her. Nesta pulled the dagger pinning her wrist out. The movement caused her gut to convulse. She managed to push herself against the brick wall, knife wielded in front of her.

Her breath was shallow, and she could barely see. Black and red rimmed her vision. Men were swearing, and she thought she heard a body thump to the ground. She prayed it was someone here to help.

Nesta felt herself slipping towards the precipice of passing out. Her head weighed on her neck. If she could just close her eyes and get her godsdamn breathing to deepen. She looked down and the hand on her stomach was coated in blood.

She was dying.

They always try and convince people to stay awake when they’re dying, but Nesta couldn’t remember why. The small release of closing her eyes was orgasmic. She focused on breathing evenly, and she felt her head drop to the side.

Someone was calling her name, swearing too. Nesta couldn’t hold it together much longer, but someone reached under her arm. She would never let those men take her again. With unrestrained conviction, Nesta threw herself away from her assailant. Pain roared through her body and her vision flooded with black.

-o-0-o-

Nesta woke in a white linen bed, and a cold sweat across her brow. Her body ached, and when she moved her hand to her stomach, it met bandage. Around her were fluffy sheets so white it seemed like she had died and ended in the great beyond.

A chair creaked next to the bed.

In it, Cassian stared at her like she could break in moment.

However, he also looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His under-eye circles shrouded half his face, and his eyes were blood shot. The intensity in his gaze almost sacred her, except there was too much concern laced in it.

She opened her mouth to say something, but found her mouth parched.

Immediately, Casian moved to pour her a glass of water. He cradled her head gently and helped her drink. When she was done, he set her head down and moved the glass back.

She cleared her throat. “I guess we’re even now on saving each other’s lives.”

Instead of responding, Cassian breathed heavily. He licked his kips twice but didn’t say anything. Nesta couldn’t stand the intensity of his look.

“Listen, Cass—“

“You could’ve died.” His voice broke, and his face crumpled when he spoke.  

Nesta swallowed. “But, I didn’t.”

“Barely.” He whispered.

Nesta couldn’t look at his face any more. Neither of them had seriously talked about what was between them, and Nesta strongly preferred that it didn’t happen now.

“Where are we?” She said as she turned back towards him.

“Madja’s. Luckily, you were less than a block from her place. She said that if you been out there for just a few more minutes, you’d be dead.”

The word clanged around Nesta’s head. It seemed unreal. To be gifted immortality, and then be almost dead in less than a year of that gift. She wouldn’t exist anymore. One look at Cassian showed that he was thinking the same thing.

“What?” She challenged anyway.

His eyebrows raised. “Really? What? Nesta, you could’ve died.”

“Do the others know?”

“Rhys and Feyre know that they attacked a civilian, but I did not specify who. I thought you might want this to be private. But, if he knew it was you, then we could probably ban them from Velaris for good.”

She considered it. Her sisters would never stop if they knew. In fact, Feyre would probably rip apart the entire Court of Nightmares. Despite how warming the thought was, Nesta could not do that yet. Not now. She wanted to recover more before that.

She only nodded in agreement to his decision. She hated how much he could guess her desires. “I guess we’re even now,” she said, “so if you want a thank you, you won’t get it.”

“I know. I’d be even more concerned about you if you did thank me. But you have to know that they were smart. It was almost silent where they found you. I was the only one who came, and it’s not because I could hear you.”

Nesta knew, and she would not be baited like this. “I am not an idiot. I understand how these things work.”

“Do you? Because it’s not just about getting even.”

Nesta scoffed. “I get that, but please respect me enough not to have this conversation right now.”

Pained shock drenched his face, and Nesta cursed herself for caring about it. “Just not now, Cass. We can talk about it later, but I am far too exhausted to do it right now.”

He nodded before leaning back in the chair. “Then what would you like me to do? Because you can get me to avoid this conversation, but you can’t get me to leave.” She expected as much. “Did you grab my bag?”

Almost sheepishly, he raised it up from he was hiding it below his chair.

“Great,” she told him sincerely, “can you read to me?”

He laughed sharply. “You want me to read to you?”

She shrugged. “What else are we to do? I did have a reason to be outside at three.”

“Indeed, you did, Nes. Indeed, you did.”

He flipped open the book to first page and began to read. His voice carried through the room until Nesta felt completely enveloped in his soft inflections. Soon, they’d talk about why he knew to come. But right now, all she wanted was her favorite characters personified by the one person who came to save her.

-o-0-o-

Thank you so much for reading!

[jackblankhsh]

A Blood Red Reindeer Knows -- Part 7:  Under the Krampus Mark

Death has a weird way of making people immortal.  The flesh may been six feet under, but the legend is a star in the sky.  People tell tales about Krampus the way they swap bogeyman stories.  The worst part about the stories is that they're all true.  Like the time Krampus forced a candy-maker to eat her own caramel-coated hand.  

 Still, Krampus died ages ago.  Back in the day he and Big Red ran the whole show.  Then Big Red decided he didn't care to share.  Krampus took two copper rounds to the back of the head.  They say his skull is still up on the wall in Big Red's office.  

 Standing outside the building with the Krampus mark I can't help admiring the artist.  It's almost a kind of Rorschach striking a primal chord.  A tribal inspired mess of jagged lines clustered into the semblance of a goat skull -- there's an occult quality to it I doubt is by accident.  In a way, it's the perfect street tag:  marking property, and saying go away in one symbol.  

 The building itself is nothing exceptional.  The Krampus mark is the only thing setting it apart.  Otherwise, I can't see anything other than a brownstone two-flat.

 A goose in rags shuffles by shaking a tin can, "Help a honker out."

 I flash a few bucks, and ask, "What do you know about that place?"

 The goose squints at the money.  Licking his bill he shakes his head, "Horrible spot.  I stay away from there."

 I deposit a c-note in the cup -- courtesy of Black Jack -- then ask, "Why's that?"

 Scratching a wing the goose says, "Weird folks go in and out of there all the time.  I don't know who, but I know trouble when I see it."

 Slipping another bill in I ask, "Anybody in there now?"

 Shaking his head the goose says, "Nope, and I pay attention.  I'd choke on a stone before talking to any of them."

 Thanking him I watch the goose waddle away. He pauses at one point to gander at the place before glancing back at me.  Before I can be sure what look he's giving me, he turns away.  The cup rattles, and he calls out, "Help a honker out," though the street is empty.  

 The building resides on the corner.  Windows on all sides make it unlikely to come at the place without being seen. However, I remember a few tricks from my youth.  

 After walking up the block I climb an apartment building's fire escape.  Up on the rooftop -- click, click, click -- I head back towards the Krampus mark.  I used to do this as a kid back when I thought I might be a flier.  Even when those dreams died I kept running along roofs, only then I did it to break in.  Either way, the skills still remained.

 Back at the Krampus building I find an attic window.  Taking a chance I break the glass.  After waiting a minute there's no sign of anyone coming to investigate, so I go inside.

 The only light is a column from the street stabbing in through the window.  At a glance the attic is empty, though I can see a few boxes piled in corners.  It takes a while to find an exit.  The door isn't locked, and I worry I'm wasting my good luck on mediocre wins.

 The second floor isn't much better than the attic.  The rooms are mostly empty except for one.  A set of mismatched chairs around a scarred table.  Spotting letters on the table I use my lighter to read a few pages. However, everything is in gibberish. I'm sure it's a code, but without a key there's no chance of me reading it on my own.  That doesn't stop me from pocketing a page before going downstairs.

 The first floor finally looks like someone lives here.  There are rugs, plenty of furniture, and lamps, though I don't dare turn any on.  The street provides enough light down here.  Yet, I don't see anything worth noticing.  

 Moving towards the back takes me into a kitchen.  The fridge is empty, so are all the drawers.  However, there's a butcher knife in the sink.  Knowing better than to touch it, I flick my lighter to life. The blade is still bloody.  

 A low moan drifts through the house.  My blood chills a degree or two, and I snap the lighter shut.  Waiting in the darkness I start regretting not snatching a gun back at Black Jack's.  It's not like the corpses need them anymore.  I consider grabbing the blade.  However, hearing the moan again I realize it isn't something sinister. Someone is in trouble.

 Following the noise to a door I open it revealing a wooden staircase.  The steps disappear into a dark basement.  Flipping a light switch beside the door brings an illumination my lighter could beat.  

 Each step groans and crackles as if it's about to break.  The moaning gets louder the deeper I go.  Finally I reach the bottom.

 The basement is nothing more than bare brick walls.  The Krampus mark adorns every one.  A few scattered bulbs dangle from wires.  The only furniture is a metal chair, and it's already occupied.  The occupant is a blindfolded elf.  He's tied to it with packaging ribbon.  Stripped to the waist it's easy to see why he's moaning, also how the knife got bloody.  

 His torso is covered in slashes.  His arms and face aren't doing well either.  The tips of his ears are missing.  Someone's been working him over slowly.  Having been on the verge of this nightmare, I can appreciate the situation.

 As I hurry over, he flinches at the sound of my hooves.

 Shuddering he says, "Please!  No more!"

 I say, "Don't worry buddy.  I'm not here to hurt you."

 "Who're you?" he asks in a quivering voice.

 "Not a fan of this lemme tell ya."  

 I pull off the blindfold. He blinks, the dim light blinding.

 He says, "We've gotta hurry.  They could be back any minute."

 Immediately I go to work on the ribbon.  Along the way I ask questions.  He says his name is Elfonso.  He works for urban planning.  

 "They used to ask me questions about the city.  I told everything I know, but then."  He starts to cry.

 So I tell him, "Everything's going to be okay."

 I hate the fact it feels like a lie.

 Elfonso says, "What's going on?"

 I say, "Hate to tell ya, but I was hoping you know."

 He shakes his head. The ribbons finally give way.  His sigh of relief -- I've heard less joyful orgasms.

 Elfonso says, "I don't know who these people are, but I'm sure they're insane.  Look what they did to me."

 Up close the wreckage is even worse.  He's a trail of canyons.  Poor guy is bound to be scarred for life.  

 Helping him to his feet I have to ask, "Why'd they do it?"

 "It was like some initiation thing.  The one in the mask would say, 'Prove you're one of us.'  Then they'd give the knife to someone and..." he trails off, but I don't press him.  I can guess the details.  

 So again I lie, "It's going to be okay.  You're getting out of here."

 Sure enough that's the cue for the sound of a door closing upstairs.  Elfonso sucks in a breath.  I get the feeling a scream is coming, so slap a hand over his mouth.  

 The only way out is the stairs.  Worse, it doesn't take a genius to realize there's nowhere to hide down here.  The best of our bad options is to get under the stairs, though I doubt it would take a blind fool long to find us there. Since it's better than nothing, hand over his mouth, I drag us there.  I can feel Elfonso shivering in my arms, sweat is already pouring out of him.

 Footsteps above.  I can't be sure how many, but more than one.

 A gravelly voice says, "Basement 's open."

 Another voice responds, but down here I can't hear it.  

 Boots thud, and the steps groan.  Elfonso starts to wriggle.  His sweaty body is hard to hold onto.  The boots continue to slowly descend.  Elfonso struggles more.

 I whisper, "Hold still."

 The boots reach the bottom of the stairs.  It's a pig dressed in black.  He looks like a walking tank.  His eyes go straight to the empty chair.  

 Elfonso jerks to one side, and pops out of my arms.  He launches himself forward, snatching a chunk of brick off the floor.  Next thing I know Elfonso is literally screaming through the air, swinging the brick.  The blow strikes the pig in the head.  Elfonso doesn't hesitate, though, he keeps hammering away with that chunk.  The swine goes down, and Elfonso follows him.  Using both hands he pounds way until piggy's head is nothing but a pulpy mess.  

 Breathing heavily Elfonso grins, "I'm --"

 Whatever might've come out his mouth gets cut off by a bullet.  His head wipes to one side, while a spray of red and brains splatters the wall.  Elfonso collapses into a heap.  The whole moment lasts the blink of an eye -- so sudden I'm not even aware it happens.

 Someone starts coming down the stairs.  The creaking plants a thought in my head.  The plan that forms doesn't inspire a lot of hope.  Yet, I'll take anything.  

 I wait, hands ready, as whoever it is descends.  When their feet touch the step above me I grab the plank, and pull down as hard as I can. The wood snaps.  The step bursts apart.  Whoever is above, their webbed foot punches through.  They don't fall through, but trip enough to go tumbling down the stairs.  

The second I hear a body falling I move. Quick as I can I dart out from under the stairs.  The person hits the bottom just as I'm coming around.  Jumping over their body I go up three steps at a time.  

 No fool, I go out the nearby backdoor.  I'm three blocks away before my body protests enough for me to slow.  When I stop I realize I've been running in a blind panic.

 I don't know what's going on, and I'm definitely in over my head.

[xx-multi-fandom-fics]

His Best Friend

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “The government didn’t give me a choice.”

Written for: @caplansteverogers’s writing challenge

Word Count: 2,242

Warnings: None

Summary: Takes place during Civil War. The reader had been friends for a long time with Steve. He has told her about the Winter Soldier but ever since the day that she met him, she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

A.N.: I might do a part two to this if enough people want it.

The entire event of meeting the Winter Soldier ran through your mind as Sam and Rhodes fought about whether or not to sign the Accords. Tony had called the meeting, but so far, no one was getting anywhere. You let your mind drift as the yells became more and more out of focus.

As you blocked the blow that the Winter Soldier tried to deliver to Steve, you felt a sharp pain in your arm. You looked down and saw the red blood gushing from your forearm. You also saw the silver blade with a black handle sticking out from the source of the blood. You staggered back in pain and yelped. Steve got back up prepared to fight the Winter Soldier again only to see that he was frozen and staring at you. You clutched your arm oblivious to the soldier staring at you.

You finally looked up when you heard Steve talk.

“Bucky?” he asked the soldier. Bucky, you remembered that Steve said that was the name of his old best friend from World War II, but it couldn’t be him. Right?

As the cogs in your mind turned, the soldier replied, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

As you attempted to get closer to Steve, the soldier noticed your movement and ran in the opposite direction. You turned to Steve, “Did you call him Bucky, as in your old friend, Bucky Barnes?”

Steve sighed and wiped some blood off of the side of his head, “Yeah. He looked exactly like him. Well, besides the hair.”

“Why did he stop fighting?” you asked as you surveyed your wound with the knife still sticking out of your arm.

Steve noticed and reached for it.

“Leave it!” you gasped. “I’m going to let the medics handle it.”

“Suit yourself,” Steve shrugged. “But my guess as to why he didn’t hurt you was because he felt guilty.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “The Winter Soldier felt guilty for stabbing me and stopped fighting even though we’ve never met before? Yeah, right.”

“You don’t understand Y/N. The entire time we were fighting, he had a weird look in his eyes. A look of emptiness. Like he’s going through the motions that have been ingrained in his brain. And he’s doing it without any emotion. When he looked at you, I saw the same look that he had before we went to war and before my injection. It was the same look that he’d have whenever he would save me from some guy who beat me up in an alley. He looked sad that it happened and mad that he couldn’t of helped more.”

“There’s no decision making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game,” Tony yelled towards Steve while Steve looked at his hands angrily. You had already made up your mind on the topic, but you didn’t know how to tell Steve who had been there for you through everything from your first mission to your first battle wound all the way to dealing with your first death of a loved one.

“I agree,” you said finally raising your head to look at Steve. He gave you a face of confusion and shock.

“Y/N-” Steve began.

“You can’t change my mind on this, Steve. I’m sorry. I have to do whatever I can to help save people in the best way. I think it’s with the Sokovia Accords. We’ve become reckless,” you explained as a tear ran down your cheek. You felt all eyes on you as the silence became harder and harder to bear.

“Please don’t hate me,” you begged as you got up and ran to your room.

Later that night as you stared at the ceiling thinking about everything that had happened, you heard a knock on your door. You quickly wiped the tears off of your cheeks as you sat up in bed.

“Hold on,” you yelled through the door as you rushed to your mirror. Your eyes were extremely puffy and red. You sloppily smeared on some concealer and tried to blend it in. You ran back to your bed and sat down.

“Come in.”

You heard the door open and saw Tony’s face peek in.

“Hey, Y/N. I just wanted to check to see if you’re okay,” he said with two mugs in his hand. He gave you one to which you grabbed happily. You took a quick sip and smiled at him when you tasted the familiar sweet taste of hot chocolate.

“Thanks, Tony. I’m okay. I just feel awful,” you laughed trying not to cry as you ran your free hand through your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered sitting next to you while rubbing his hand on your back. “You made the right choice. He’ll come to see that eventually.”

Tony had always acted like a father figure towards you. He called you out when you needed it, but he also comforted you when you were upset.

“Does he hate me?” you asked turning to him.

Tony paused, dropped his hand, and looked towards his mug trying to find an answer. That was enough of an answer for you. You leaned into him for a hug as tears once more streamed down your face. Tony took the mug of hot chocolate from you and placed them both on your nightstand.

“He doesn’t hate you, Y/N. He’s hurt, because he thinks you betrayed him. But we both know that you didn’t. Just talk to him.”

It had been about a week and you hadn’t gotten any closer to Steve. You tried to talk to him the next morning, but you ended up just getting into a worse argument. That afternoon, he left “on a trip” according to note he left behind. The entire team had been acting suspicious around you lately. Vision had been sticking as closely to Wanda as possible. Since you and her had been fighting over the Accords despite being extremely close, you didn’t see either of them much. You had walked in on Tony, Rhodes, and Nat whispering together. When you asked what they had been talking about, Nat looked at Tony with a sad look in her eyes. Tony looked at the ground then up at you.

“Great job, Y/N! Just planning a surprise birthday party for you is all!” Tony said faking anger as he crossed his arms to add to the act.

You rolled your eyes, “Tony, my birthday isn’t for another seven months.”

“I know,” he muttered shifting awkwardly. “But you know I don’t like waiting till the last minute.”

“Sure. Let me know when you actually want to tell me the truth. After all, I deserve it. I’ve proved my loyalty. I lost my best friend, because I believe in the same ideals as you. The least you can do is treat me with the same decency.”

You stormed off and had been keeping to yourself ever since then. You walked down to the kitchen for breakfast to see Tony, Vision, Rhodes, and Nat walking out.

“Where are you going?” you asked Tony.

“Out. We’ll call you if we need you,” he said as he gave you a goodbye hug.

“So we’re still lying, are we? Okay. Well, I’m completely free today, so don’t be afraid to call for help.”

For most of the day, you’d been sitting around. Finally, when you saw a man in a suit walk over to you, you knew it was time.

“Finally, so what mission do they need my help with?” you asked the man.

“They’re at the airport. Steve and the others are there.”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

“Steve? Does Tony want me to fight against him?” you asked breathlessly.

The man nodded his head.

“I can’t. No. I won’t. He’s my friend. At least he was my friend. I’ll have to sit out on this one,” you said heading back to the couch. However, you felt a tight grip on your arm and turned to see the man holding you and digging into his coat pocket. He pulled out a badge and flashed it at you.

“Miss, as a member of the FBI and a dedicated citizen to the United States, it is my duty to make sure that you fulfill your promises as stated in the Sokovia Accords. Those include that you will protect citizens from criminals. Do I need to remind you that Steve Rogers acted out against the government and is officially a wanted man?”

You sighed an exasperated sigh and looked at the man.

“Okay,” you breathed realizing that there was nothing you could do but do what you had said you would do. “Debrief me on the rest of it in the jet.”

As you flew above the fight, you saw Tony. You turned to the FBI agent.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“We’ll drop you off, Miss.”

“No need,” you smiled as you opened the back door of the jet and walked to the edge. “I prefer to make a dramatic entrance.”

With that, you jumped off and let your suit deploy it’s parachute, which you promptly cut off as soon as you landed. You immediately had something thrown at you as you stood up and gained your balance. You looked around and tried to figure out who had just attacked you hoping that it wasn’t Steve. You saw Wanda looking towards you and you sprinted towards her. You kicked a nearby piece of debris to disable her but not kill her towards her. That’s right, your power was your strength. You had always been insanely strong ever since you could remember which is what led your parents to give you up for adoption. You shook the bad memory from your mind as you looked around to find your next target.

It was then that you saw him and forgot what you were previously doing. The Winter Soldier. Bucky. He looked up and saw you. It was as if time froze. You stared at each other feeling some weird connection between yourselves. You began to walk towards him, until you felt a sharp pain in the side of your head. Everything began to go black as you felt your body hit the concrete. The last thing you heard was Wanda screaming and yelling apologies as she rushed over to your body.

You woke up and felt a throbbing sensation on the right side of your head. You brought your hand up to it only to feel a hand pull your arm down to its previous position.

“Be careful, Y/N. You took a hard hit. You’ll be fine, but first, you have to heal.”

You looked towards the voice, “Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he smiled.

You jolted towards him and wrapped your arms around him. You began crying ignoring the pain due to the sudden movement.

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to fight against you. The government didn’t give me a choice.”

“Shhhh. You’re okay. We’ll drop you off with Tony once you’re healed up.”

“I don’t want to go back. Tony is great, but I can’t fight against you again. You’re my best friend and I can’t lose you again.”

You pulled away from Steve and saw Bucky staring at you.

“Bucky?” you asked him.

He nodded his head. “Sorry you got hurt because of me Y/N.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach.

“It’s okay. It’s not like you meant for me to get hurt.”

“I wanted to say thank you by the way,” Bucky said getting out of his chair and walking over to you.

“For what?” you asked with a confused expression.

“For saving me.”

“Wha-”

“For bringing me back. When I saw you and Steve on the highway, it made me realize who I was. For years, I had been serving HYDRA without a second thought. That day, you both brought me back to reality. After that, I did everything to remember yours and Steve’s face. I knew I had to get back to you.”

“Wait. I’m still confused. What did I do? I mean sure. Steve brought you back because he was your best friend. But why me?”

“Your beauty and innocence stirred something inside of me. You found the tiny bit of light that was hidden in my soul.”

“Did you say beauty?” you asked trying to figure out if he was flirting with you.

Bucky laughed, “Yeah, I did.”

He leaned closer towards you and kissed you on your cheek. You smiled as he pulled back.

“I’ll let you two talk some more. I’ll see you later, Y/N,” Bucky smiled as he walked out of the room.

“I haven’t seen him act like that since before the war,” Steve laughed to himself. You realized he had seen the entire thing and blushed.

You tossed a pillow at his face. “If you tell anyone,” you began.

“I’m sure you’ll make me suffer,” Steve joked.

The two of you talked the entire night and you decided that you would stay with Steve and Bucky and fight with them. That night as you sat in your hospital bed listening to the rhythmic sound of the monitors, you thought of Bucky. You blushed and pulled your blankets over your shoulder. You planned what you would say to him tomorrow as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Like, reblogs, and giving feedback is always appreciated! Requests are open for certain fandoms. :)

[youarentreadingthis]

Sam Winchester and Gabriel finally come face to face after the death of the Devil.

Part 10 of my 13x21 series.

Part 9. Part 8. Part 7. Part 6. Part 5. Part 4. Part 3. Part 2. Part 1.

Sam Winchester is sitting on the hood of a car, holding an archangel blade.

No, his archangel blade.

The one he used to kill Lucifer.

He feels no remorse, even when he had cleaned the remaining bright-red-angel-blood off.

Sam thinks it should have been black. Black as the Devil’s heart.

He turns it slowly in his hands, examining the writing circling the shining metal. The Enochian words are bunched together in a twisting and turning line, none of them forming complete sentences.

Sam Winchester can read them all, but not because he now has grace.

SamaelSamuelPoisonOfGodNameOfGodArchangelSoulGraceBornDemonRaised–

And on and on they go, speaking of an intricate description of him, of his life, of what he thinks, feels, knows. It should probably creep him out, but for some reason, it doesn’t.

He hears footsteps approach him from the side, crunching quietly in the mix of dirt and gravel.

Sam sighs softly, and the blade disappears with a thought.

He tilts his head a little bit to his right, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise as he sees who it is.

Gabriel. Loki, Trickster, Liesmith, Archangel, Messenger Of God.

Something deep inside Sam whispers, Brother.

Sam shifts to the left, waving his hand in a gesture to sit down.

Gabriel nods, doing exactly that, and knits his fingers together in his lap.

They both stare into the empty space in front of them, neither one looking at each other.

Gabriel swallows, looking down. “I heard you killed my brother.”

Sam stills as he hears those words. Not Lucifer, not the Devil, but my brother.

For the first time after Lucifer’s death, Sam feels guilt.

But he won’t deny that he did it. That’s not him.

Sam nods reluctantly, forcing the words out. “I did.”

His wings ruffle uncomfortably. He doesn’t know what else to say.

There’s silence for a bit before Gabriel releases a strangled breath. “I don’t know, Sam…I know he was, well,” Gabriel snorts. “A great big bag of dicks, yeah, but he was also my brother.”

Sam flinches, shoulders curling inwards. “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel looks over at Sam in surprise, straightening up.

“I’m not mad at you, Sam. I just…”

Gabriel turns away once again.

“It’s strange. Having everyone nearly gone.”

Sam doesn’t need to ask who everyone is.

“All the archangels are dead, Sam. Raphael, Lucifer, Michael.”

Gabriel’s eyes flick to the ground, beginning to glow a faint amber-whiskey-gold, like polished bronze, while Sam’s is a bright shining gold, and Gabriel murmurs, “Except me.”

Sam swallows. “Michael isn’t dead.”

Insane, crazy, lost a few of his marbles, sure, but he isn’t dead.

Gabriel frowns, tilting his head to look up at Sam. “What?” He croaks out.

Sam shakes his head, forcing himself not to look at Gabriel.

“He’s not dead. He’s…” A mess of limbs and heads bleeding bright-blue grace as it huddles in a ball, mumbling words that come from a shattered mind. They make no sense. “He’s in the cage.”

“What?” Gabriel’s voice is sharp, demanding answers. But Sam looks at Gabriel, and all he sees is pain.

Pain, because Gabriel knows what the cage can do to someone.

Sam stares at nothing again, licking his lips and taking a shuddering breath.

“Michael is in the cage. Our Michael, at least.”

“How?!” Gabriel snarls, and it sounds broken.

Broken like Michael, Sam thinks, and he shakes his head to clear it.

“You…you told us to get the rings. We did. Then we trapped Lucifer. Michael came along for the ride.”

Gabriel leans back, shocked. Then he asks the question Sam has been dreading.

“How’d you get them in the cage?”

Sam stops breathing as his eyes turn glassy, unfocused.

Pay attention, pay attention, pay attention, pay attention.

Pay attention, says the Devil, you don’t want your tongue ripped out, again, do you?

Pay attention, says Michael, sneering. Abomination. Learn some respect around me.

There is a burning sensation wrapped around Sam’s wrist and he whimpers, oh God, what a pitiful sound, and wait, no, it’s not burning, it’s just really, really warm, too warm for the Devil, too cold for Michael, what is it, why isn’t he being tortured, what’s going on–

“Sam!” Someone yells, and Sam thinks that an archangel’s voice in the cage should shred apart his eardrums like paper like they’ve always been a million times and they don’t and now he just feels lost–

“Sam, listen to me!” Sam thinks he knows that voice, now. Who is it? It’s been so long.

“Sam, fuck, I don’t want to have to explain this to your brother, he might actually kill me. So please. Open your eyes.”

Sam does, and the world explodes with light.

Gabriel knows something is wrong as soon as he asks the question. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have asked at all.

Sam freezes, eyes looking at nothing. And then Gabriel notices he stops breathing.

He’s seen that before. In himself.

What was Sam not telling him?

Gabriel grabs Sam on the wrist, using what grace he has left to try and take a look inside, to see if he can bring Sam back. But Sam’s mind is completely shielded. And to add insult to the injury, Sam curls inwards, closing his eyes and letting out a whimper. Shit.

Blocking should be impossible, Gabriel wants to say, but he knows his powers are more than a little down, and Sam was psychic in the past. So he tries what anyone would do. Yelling.

He shakes Sam’s shoulder. “Sam!”

Sam doesn’t respond.

“Sam, listen to me!”

Gabriel growls in frustration. “Sam, fuck, I don’t want to have to explain this to your brother, he might actually kill me. So please. Open your eyes.”

And then Gabriel nearly flies away in shock when Sam does.

Sam is kneeling on the ground, head down, and has blasted everything within a twelve-foot radius away. Except for Gabriel.

Sam’s wings are stretched out, feathers splayed, glinting like metal and his molten gold halo is dripping and hissing when it hits the ground like it’s evaporating, and there are scorch marks on the ground, surrounding where he kneels and his eyes hold no trace of human, they’re just rippling energy contained within a vessel and Sam lets out a breath and it shakes the ground–

And then Sam throws up.

The power snaps back into his body as Sam begins to stand shakily, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his head and turning to Gabriel, who stands there, amber-gold wings outstretched and a disk of solid bronze hovering over his head.

Gabriel’s eyes are wide as his wings fold back and halo dissipates. And then they both look human again. Although they are very much not.

Sam stumbles over to another car, leaning on it and hanging his head.

“Sorry,” He grunts.

“You have grace,” Gabriel says, and it’s not a question.

Sam frowns. “Yeah, I thought you could tell.”

Gabriel walks over slowly, stiff. “No, I couldn’t- my grace wasn’t strong enough, I was far too weak.” He narrows his eyes as he looks Sam over. “Why do you have grace?”

It’s not, “How do you have grace?”, because Sam thinks Gabriel already knows. Just take a look at the golden feathers, golden eyes, golden halo.

It’s why, because Sam knows a soul should not be able to contain grace, no matter how powerful it is. A soul is all soul, that’s it. Except for Sam Winchester.

Sam’s hands shake, and he grabs onto the edge of the car. It creaks under him, and when he moves away, there’s a handprint-shaped dent in the metal.

Am I ever going to get used to this? Sam thinks, sighing. Then he turns back to Gabriel, eyes full of pain.

“My soul…” God dammit, Sam, just say it. “It was shredded, torn apart, whatever you want to call it. The cracks, well,” He snorts. “The cracks are filled with gold, so to speak.”

This time, Gabriel is the one to freeze. “What happened?” What happened to your soul? Why is it shredded? There are so many other questions behind the words Gabriel says. Still, he says it quietly, not demanding an answer.

But Sam chooses to anyway. “The Cage,” He says simply, as if it’s no big deal at all.

Gabriel snarls. “How?”

Sam bites his lip, turns away. He speaks as quickly as he can. “I said yes. Jumped in. Accidently dragged Michael down too.”

Gabriel makes a wounded noise as he flinches backward. “How long?”

Sam winces and shuts his eyes, shuts the memories out. “Five thousand years,” He whispers, and his wings curl around him like a tent of feathers.

Gabriel chokes. “How are...how are you still alive?”

Dear boy, you're all duct tape and safety pins inside. How are you alive?

Sam shrugs, putting on a bitter smirk. “Honestly? No idea,” He rasps out.

Before this, he knew he’d been falling apart for quite a while.

The only thing holding him together now is grace.

Gabriel looks wary, but he sighs and a weak smile forms at the edge of his mouth.

“Come on, let’s get back to camp.” Gabriel’s three pairs of wings stretch out in anticipation.

Sam looks at them and feels something break in his chest. “Gabe…I’m sorry about your grace.”

This time, Gabriel grins, eyes sparkling. “It seems I got a super-charge from you. Don’t worry about me.”

Sam sucks in a breath. “What?” He whispers, shocked, confused, and thankful, because for once he did something right in his life.

Gabriel rolls his shoulders, wings stretching out as well. “Yup! Okay, now let’s go, because I’m pretty sure Dean will stab me if we don’t get there on time for food.”

Sam looks at Gabriel, frowning. Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I think he knows you don’t need to eat, but food is excellent, yes? Come on, let’s go.”

Sam nods, getting up from where he was leaning against the car. This time, when he stands, he’s stable. Good.

And Gabriel sobers a little bit when he watches Sam. And then he looks Sam in the eyes.

Amber-whiskey eyes to those of an ever-changing color.

Archangel to archangel.

One, old as time and the other newly born.

And at this, fate herself, trembles.

And Gabriel, Archangel, Messenger of God, speaks.

For what it is worth, Samael, I think of it as an honor to have you as a brother.

Sam falters at Gabriel’s voice in his head, but then he smiles and replies with a quiet,

And I you, Gabriel.

They both disappear with a whisper of wings.

Tagging: @saintsurvivors

[bloodycalligraphy]

multi-purpose-tool-guy replied to your post:

im just gonna.... scoot in here and uh..... enable you..... scoot scoot....

OK hear me out. Here’s some TLJ-based Kylux mpreg thoughts.

I think Snoke always knew Kylo was the knock-off brand of what he really wants. That Kylo is broken by the fact that he FEELS SO MUCH and he lets his feelings drag him around even though he clearly wishes he wasn’t like this. He was probably always like this. 

And Hux? Hux is useful but Hux lacks the sort of power that Kylo has by birth and breeding. Also he’s an absolutely sucking void of a human being with bile where other people have blood. He’s easy enough to control, but mostly exactly as you would a dog — reward it when it’s good and make sure it knows you could beat it if it’s not. Watch the teeth. Don’t take your eyes off it.

They’ll be steps to power, but are they really going to be heirs to his vision? Or are they the tools he’ll use until he can get better, shinier, less buggy and broken ones?

I’d like to thank the Rlos who want Rey to “continue the Skywalker line” because that sure sounds like the exact sort of shit you could feed Kyle Ron to make him do some Fucking Weird Shit and well, General, just lie back and think about the Empire. Kyle has probably never seen junk that wasn’t his own and the one Knight that he kissed once got sent out by Snoke to some planet acid-spitting worms and came back with their lips melted shut by scar tissue. And frankly I’m not sure anyone has ever in his life taught Hux that sex is about anything other than Power and Pain.

Anyway, Kyle over here’s like literally twice as wide as Armie, so obviously he’s got the space in that refrigerator-size torso for whatever demonspawn comes out of this.

Throw in some Force garbage about how if Kylo doesn’t spend a certain amount of time around Hux regularly he feels like he’s gonna puke his kidneys out because this INCREDIBLY FORCE SENSITIVE fetus would like to vibe with whatever weird vibes Hux gives off. Actually they’re probably very chill. Since he’s only got one (1) emotion: Hatred. And he’s got a boss and a PAIN IN THE ASS who can read his mind, I’m sure the inside of his brain is WMD blueprints and elevator music most of the time.

So they chill. They don’t... like each other? But maybe they realize that they’ve made some misjudgments and now they’re actually even better prepared to murder each other.

Hux starts researching weapons that a lightsaber can’t block. Force-resistant materials. He starts packing a couple extra energy blades on his body at all times. He buys a slug-shooting rifle and starts carrying it damn near everywhere.

Kylo is still gonna be killing his dad and getting gut-shot by a wookie and finding the true power of hatred after THE ANGRIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD hands him his own ass on a platter, obviously. You could stuff a whole watermelon in that boy and it would not slow him down. But it’s fucking with his head. Are his priorities... right? What does it all mean? Existential crisis with a side of his body literally doesn’t belong to him and he didn’t choose this at any point and WHY IS HE DOING ANY OF THIS AT ALL

Things explode. Things still very, very much explode.

And that’s going to be rather important, really, because Hux knows he can rebuild a planet-sized weapon and he can buy a new warship and he can train a hundred thousand more child soldiers. Every life except his own is replaceable and it always, always has been.

And Kylo is thinking obsessively about family, about his parents, about his childhood, about his life and where it has lead him, about right and wrong, light and dark. 

But all things must come to an end? And the boy sith who would be supreme leader doesn’t have enough time to telepathically tell Rey NOT to swing by really not a good time right now. 

Kylo gets his guts excavated by unfeeling, uncaring medical robots because this is a hideous dystopia of reproductive rights or something. Hux is there because, well, he’s a little bit of a sadist everyone knows that. That’s the only possible reason he could be there, isn’t it?

Haha no. He’s gonna make eye contact with that blue-eyed, screaming creature and all the crazy in that heavily hair-gelled head is gonna skew in exactly the expected ways. Because, well, he can BUILD another weapon. He can BUILD another army. But he can’t BUILD a fucking baby. Or well, he could, but it wouldn’t be this exact baby, now would it? And honestly, honestly? Why would he build any other? This one is PERFECT. He made that and it’s his and he would rather drown in his own blood than let anyone hurt it. 

(See? He’s not his father after all. He cannot even understand his father in this moment. He has always known himself to be weak and sought to protect himself. Now here is the weakest imaginable version of himself and he feels that same urge. It’s his and he will protect it or he will die. That has always been the only two options.)

And Kylo wakes up with his internal organs rearranged and stapled back together to see a fucking armed sociopath holding HIS CHILD and nearly kills Hux right then and there except if he died then he would definitely drop the baby and if Kylo sits up too fast his spleen is gonna pop out probably. 

They don’t even have to talk about things or lie to each other because they have spent a stupid amount of time with one another and they know. The fear in Hux now is the same fear that is swallowing Kylo up like a howling cyclone.

So they go to Snoke and it seems very much like Hux will betray Kylo like the untrustworthy dog that he is and Kylo will stay the loyal and steady servant of the darkness, but Kylo is a nest of serpents held together by medical tape. And all of Hux’s research? Well, if you want to blow the most powerful Force user you’ve ever met’s head off his ugly shoulders? You might need a real firearm and some Force-resistant bullets.

Cue a very different fight against the Praetorian Guard. Rey shows up twenty minutes late with Starbucks to a room full of corpses and fire and Kylo “Ben Solo” Ren trying to hold his torso together while Armitage “General Hugs” Hux looks increasingly red-faced and distressed at a very small and screaming baby.

No lightsabers explode.

No one’s around to sign the paperwork on DJ’s deal so he fucks off on the first ship he can break into while Phasma’s calls keep going directly to Hux’s voicemail.

The Resistance makes it to Crait safely and Holdo does not explode anything and Rose does not have to contemplate kicking 500,000 stormtroopers to death with her own two feet. (I mean she doesn’t, but she still DOES.)

Phasma’s call goes through. 

“Hey I’ve got two big Resistance morons and a soccer ball.”

“Cool. We killed the Supreme Leader and also it’s a girl.”

“Congratulations, sir. Does she have a name?”

“Not yet, I was a little busy.”

Rey watches Kylo get increasingly pale. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he says.

Hux remembers that someone helped MAKE this baby and she’s probably fond of him or something. Maybe Hux is fond of him. He’s not sure yet exactly. But he would probably shoot the scavanger girl if she hurt him. Of course, he would probably shoot her anyway, y’know? Just because.

Chewbacca is sort of waiting for Rey to come back.

He does not expect her to come back in the company of the First Order’s three most powerful leaders and also Rose, Finn and a VERY ANGRY BB-8.

Also there’s a baby? It’s a very cute baby. She’s got Ben’s nose already.

“What’s her name?” he asks.

“Haven’t decided,” Kylo Ren says at the same time Rey says, “I don’t know.”

They glare at each other. Chewie does not smack Kylo upside the back of his head simple because it looks right now as though a stiff wind would knock him over just as well. Also, well, he wouldn’t have helped Rey with this COMPLETELY INSANE PLAN if he didn’t think Ben Solo could still come home.

He can’t. Really. This is not Ben Solo going to his mother. This is Kylo Ren going to General Organa with three and a half hostages and a burning desire to get some war criminals off the hook.

(Maybe DJ does a nice thing and leaves something explosive behind when he goes. Or he gives the whole First Order a computer virus or something. They’d deserve it.)

Anyway, Hux probably is still set on handing his daughter the whole known universe and does something incredibly stupid like pull a gun on Leia and gets every blaster in the room pointed at him while he’s holding the infant Skywalker scion. Kylo forcibly (haha) disarms everyone in the room and gently sets Hux on his damn fool ass and not so gently shuts his jaw so tight he can barely breathe. But he can still breathe.

This still unnamed baby is going to be a princess in a world where everyone won’t be trying to kill her all the time, isn’t that good enough for you? (It isn’t, actually, but Hux can make world domination a back-up plan for at least the next two hours.)

Phasma refuses to take off her helmet. Or talk to anyone.

Rey is going to loudly insist that they’re not that bad — and they have a baby! They can’t be bad? At least the baby is probably not bad! 

Leia is going to call Kylo “Ben” and so everyone else is going to follow suit as he bleeds internally and hates them all. He would still stab his uncle if he saw him.

(MAYBE HE DOES HAHA.)

Does Phasma particularly care if her life’s work is sacrificed on the altar of peace? Uh, as long as she still has her LIFE, not particularly. 

Empires, warships, armies can be rebuilt. The universe is always going to be there to conquer. Right? And "princess” doesn’t seem like such a bad title, really, when it’s his baby girl.

Kylo is still an angry, bitter sack of vipers. Hux now has two emotions and they’re both terrifying and involve firearms. Not saying they “fall in love,” but they do practice kissing and trade insults that are maybe affectionate? Hux kills more than one person who tries to get at Kylo with his bare hands and a energy blade. They try extremely hard to be good parents.

Phasma takes her immunity and fucking RETIRES to make LOTS OF MONEY doing what she’s GOOD AT which is fighting and not dying.

Anyway they name the baby Padme. She has a COMPLETELY HIDEOUS temper and blue eyes like her great-grandfather.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[mrneighbourlove]

Snake who Smiles: Finale. Head of the Hydra

Baron Victor Von Zemalocke looked over the crowd of rioters that had gathered. At long last, his destiny was at hand. The Dragmires would pay for their insolence and barbaric nature in tormenting him. All the frustration and humiliation, they'd pay ten fold.

He took a deep breath and addressed the crowd.

"Faithful people of Hyrule, your liberation is at hand!"

The crowd cheered at his voice, weapons and torches raised.

"How long has this beautiful land been under attack by foreign demons? For the longest time Ganondorf and his Gerudo pillaged our lands? Their greed tore us down and made us rebuild our civilization time and time again. NO MORE!!!"

The crowd roared and roared, a wave of hatred rising.

"And now the Gerudo have brought the Lordeidians! Witches of terrible magic. They too selfishly brought a war. A war of darkness and insanity! How many of your family and friends were killed on the wedding day of the Bastard King and Queen!? TOO MANY!!!"

Zemalocke took a sword out and raised it high.

"Are you ready for the Hylian race to take its rightful place?!"

"YES!"

"Then we must FIGHT to defeat our oppressors! I promise you that freedom! We will rise from the ashes and I will lead you as King! Now we will march through the castle, annihilate all the puppets of the Gerudo and Lorliedian scum, and I will bring you the heads of Zarazu and Covarog himself!!!"

The crowd of angry hylian supporters cheered, along with a band of monsters Zemalocke paid off for extra muscle. This lot would prove most effective as his pawns and knights.

Zemalocke waved his sword and the explosives set off. "CHARGE!!!!"

~

"Covarog! Our children!"

"Are with my mother, you can't defend them right now. She's hiding in the hidden tunnels with them and Impa."

"Why are you taking me to the tower?! I need to be with them!"

"We can't move your wheelchair in the tunnels if you need to move! No one even knows where the bloody door is for the tower, just stay up here, and be quiet while I settle this."

Zarazu didn’t like it one damned bit, but she nodded in reluctant acceptance. “Be safe Covarog.”

The King gave his wife a kiss. “Always.”

~

Zizi saw the mob approaching from afar. She just could not run fast enough on her two legs. The Zemlja had called several of the Lorleidians to help their queen, as well as some of the townspeople. The soldiers were waiting for most of the mob at the gate. She could only hope her sister was somewhere safe. Surely Covarog had taken her to a place that was well hidden in the castle. He would not risk Zarazu's life when she could barely defend herself.

"I really hate to bother you in the same week, but I need you again Ve'nusa!" Zizi said in-between breaths for air. "I hope you're hungry!"

~

Malik waited in the main hall. The sounds of yelling and light combat could be heard behind the bared door. The High Commander looked back at the soldiers behind him. He wore the Golden Hybrid Iron Knuckle Armour his wife had given him, a terrifying symbol of power.  "Captain Tulilad, I want you and the men to stay behind me as second wave of defense. I shall stay here and take the brunt of the attack. Any stragglers that get past me I want to be taken down without any mercy or hesitation."

"Lord Malik, with all due respect, there's a ton of them and one of you." Captain Tulilad readied his sword. "You can't possibly hope to defeat them all."

Some soldiers inspected their weapons, praying to the gods to get through the day.

"We're at his side, we'll help him drive the mob back."

"I know, but some of these are civilians as well, we can't hurt them, can we?"

"They're on the edge of treason, of course we can use deadly force."

"Our first priority is to protect the king and queen, and the heirs."

Malik looked down at Tulilad through his visor. His stare was cold and final and his eyes still. "I might not be the undead monster that could tank blows and go head to head with the blows of demons anymore, but I am presently, more protected, more skilled, and more powerful than any man or woman here, even as I am now."

Malik's grip tightens on his battle axe. "And you will remember, Captain, who we face. The man responsible is the mastermind behind all the attacks on the Royal Family. Any those that follow him are traitors plain and simple. Any come through that door, man, woman or child, with their hatred and racist malice, you will kill . Now am I clear Captain?"

"... if you get hurt, then I'm not the one telling your wife. She scares me more than you do." Tulilad muttered under his breath as the troops opened the doors. There were so many in the mob. He could not comprehend how Zemalocke was able to get so many people on his side. Hyrule and its inhabitants thrived under Covarog's and Zarazu's rule. The economy was at its peak and poverty rates were lower than ever. There was no need to worry about hunger or sickness due to the new magic. New homes, buildings, ports, and roads were being built. Why was there still so much hate? Tulilad would never understand how such a simple thing such a race could result in such a primal aspect of fear. So he fought, slicing his way through any foe in his path.

Malik's eyes went cold and dead as he charged forward. With a wide swing of his axe, he removed several men from their torso's in a fountain of blood and carnage. Fighting against momentum and stress on his body he turned the direction of the weapon to cut down more men. He needed to change weapons. The axe was too bulky. Not suitable for so many opponents, and especially with a new body like this. With the snap of his finger in mid swing he changed from his axe to his great sword, cutting down a woman from her neck vertically through her torso.  The next movements he found himself fighting more signal threats, cutting them down one by one. Many were uncoordinated, but few had skill. Many blows harmlessly grazed off his armour, until finally a mercenary got close and hit the more vulnerable chainmail on Malik's hip. He grunted and took a defensive position. It was then he realized he was cut off from the rest of the men.

The rioters charged at him, and Malik went to work, fighting back, cutting down as quickly as he could each person that came close one or two at a time. What he didn't expect were a few creatures outside the angry Hylians fighting for Zemalocke. A Dinoflos tried to attack him with a bladed tail and an armoured Areoflos flew about making a swift strike to take Malik's head off. Perhaps they were paid. Maybe they missed Ganondorf's more tyrannical reign and felt cheated. Or maybe they were just stupid.

Malik ducked and rolled to the left, and with a quick parry, stabbed the Dinoflos through the chest. As he pulled out he was shot by a fire ball from behind by the Areoflos. Before he could strike back more rioters attacked him. Malik was getting sluggish in fighting so many. How many had he killed now. Seventy, eighty? He hated to admit it, but he was getting tired. He had not fought in a large scale battle since the last war, and back then his undead strength gave him unlimited stamina. How much more could he take?....

~

Asakonigei was still on the mends from giving birth, but was doing much better in the past couple of weeks. Revan was growing as the days passed by and was a happy baby as long as his stomach was full. However, the case with Zemalocke was one that kept her up at night. The baron seemed hell bent on making Zarazu suffer to torment the Dragmire family. She worried for her friend's sake as well as her family's. There was no proof yet according to her husband, but if he believed he was the culprit, then she’d believe too. What if his final intention was to drive all the Lorleidians out of Hyrule? Or worse, kill them?

Her answers arrived when she saw the mob outside of the castle door. Somehow, Zemalocke had rallied a force large enough to attack the palace. After ensuring her baby her safe along with Zelda and the Dragmire grandchildren in the tunnels, Asakonigei went back to look upon the betrayers. There was her husband and the guard, trying to hold off the mob from the castle doors. Malik was getting tired, his steps were faltering and his swings were getting chaotic. How long until sloppy? As strong as he was, he was now human and could tire more easily. She had to do something to help him.

Hurrying to her forge, Asakonigei dashed to the very back where all the metals available were stored. There were five towering figures covered with drapes. The Kovina knew it was a long shot, but it would have to do for now. Pulling off the covers, there stood knights. Perhaps her newest creations could help turn the tide of the battle.

~

Malik kept fighting as well as he could. So many tried to cut him down, but he kept pushing them back. Taking in his surroundings he saw that Zemalocke, for all his talk of a pure race, had hired quite the number of other species. Maybe he and his followers thought of them as slaves.

The worst came when the halls shook. Turning around he saw a very large and very angry Hinox rampage through. The large Cyclops roared and through a punch at Malik. If he wasn't so tired he would have rolled. Instead he summoned a shield to protect him and for his troubles was sent flying into a wall. The concrete broke along with a rib. Malik spat some blood, covering the inside of his helmet and rose to his feet as the Hinox stomped over to clobber him more.

"Damn Beast...."

Before the Hinox could land another blow, a blur of gray stood in front of Malik. It blocked the attack and then slammed its own fist into the cyclops. Four thunderous thuds struck the ground, causing the earth to crack. Each knight was different from the other in size and shape, not to mention their weapons were various as well. A sword, a mace, an axe, a scythe, and a halberd were in their clawed hands. It was a rather eerie feeling, seeing no eyes behind those holes in the helmet. With one swoop, the knight with the mace knocked back the mob a good distance to give the guards some time to catch their breath.

Asakonigei stood on the bridge's archway, up high from all the fighting, standing on solid stone. Her hands were spread out with strings of magic attached to the knights. These knights were her puppets and she intended to use them to her best ability. However, the only problem was, it took an immense amount of magic to be able to work them all at once.

"Love..." Asakonigei spoke as she poised her knights for the next wave. "I can't do this for long. It's really..." She grunted, trying to focus her magical energy. She should have trained more with the knights, but she never had the time. With the baby and all the work in the forge, it was so limited. "I'll need you to hurry..."

Malik nodded with gratitude and understanding. With having some breathing time for just a moment of relaxation he took a few breaths to gain his composure, then ran forward towards the Hinox. Channeling his energy he concentrated his magic and launched an energy spear into the eye of the Hinox. The monster roared with pain and stumbled about holding its eye. Malik wasted no time rushing forward and climbed up the Hinox, reaching his head. Summoning his Battle Axe, Malik ground his feet in and threw his arms down with all his might, roaring in ancient Gerudo.

"SLUUR!"

The axe split the skull of the mighty Hinox and with a sad moan it slowly fell onto its back. Malik slid down onto the monster's stomach and gripped the handle with both his hands, shaking the axe above his head in a display of victory and defiance. Some of the rioters grew scared and ran, a few into the jaws of a very hungry plant.

Ve'nusa was hungry and elated at having all this food. The plant seemed to grow in size with each traitor it consumed. Blood dripped down the fanged mouth while the tentacles kept the mob backing into the knights. Zizi hated having to use violence, but when it was against her family members, she would use whatever was necessary.

Asakonigei, on the other hand, was slicing as many intruders as she could. The knights moved as a formation unit, each making sure that the other had another open target. It was getting difficult to keep up such a fast pace. Still, she refused to let anyone touch her husband or the guards. Zizi seemed to be protected by the meat-eating plant of hers and those incredibly thick vines.

Malik looked around. Where was he? Where was Baron Zemalocke? A terrible feeling of dread filled the Commander. The Baron was not foolish to the details of the castle. If that snake could be anywhere, it would be hunting Zarazu. “Asa, I’m going after the Queen!”

Before she could reply he was already running off.

~

Zemalocke went through the hall with his closest guards. The mob would do its job, and more would rise to his aid once Zarazu was dead. Nearing the library he looked around at the book cases on the wall. One of the guards looked around carefully. "Sir, you sure this is it?"

"Yes fool. My son was very clear on what area he played with the bitches offspring."

Carefully sliding a finger along the books he pulled a red one down. A click popped and the shelf slid open. "Ah. There we are."

Walking down the secret hallway Zemalocke smirked upon seeing his final challenge. "Covarog. Fancy meeting you here."

"You won't go another step." Covarog growled at Zemalocke as he held his sword ready. "Whatever you hope to achieve will not work, Zemalocke. Hyrule is united under my rule, my wife's rule." The young king was ready to face whatever the guards had ready for him. Nothing was going to harm his beloved wife as long as he was breathing.

Zemalocke laughed coldly at Covarog. "Your kind brought death upon us. I will FREE the people under my rule. And I think the first thing I'll do is make sure every single Gerudo is wiped out for good. Along with those witches. Honestly if it was your brother I'd stay, but alas, you are nothing to me. Men, if you please." Zemalocke snapped his finger and his guards rushed at Covarog with agility and grace. One had a chain and blade, flipping in the air and throwing it at his head while the second rushed to cut his stomach open with a short blade.

Covarog managed to avoid the blades, however, these guards were dangerously quick. The chain caught on his sword while he managed to stop the other with his arm brace. He would have to get these guys out of the way before he could handle Zemalocke. Yet, the soldiers gave Zemalocke just enough room to sneak by Covarog. The king lunged for Zemalocke's foot but had to block a sword aimed at his head. His wife! He had to protect his wife. Kicking one of the guards in the face, he tumbled backwards down the steps with a loud crack.

Zemalocke simply walked by Covarog without a care in the world. "Goodbye Covarog. May Hell embrace you with open arms."

As he walked away another guard threw a bladed ball and chain at Covarog's kneecap.

The blade nicked Covarog's leg but still he kept fighting. He would not let Zemalocke hurt his wife!

Meanwhile, Zarazu was once again in her wheelchair. She was really beginning to loathe this stupid thing. Once it had served its purpose, she was honestly thinking about asking someone to set it on fire. It would be nice to watch it burn. While her legs would move a little, she still stumbled around like a klutz on them. Hearing noise on the stairs, she perked up.

"Covarog?"

Zemalocke’s foots steps echoed as he walked in. He took his final step at the top of the stairs. He looked at her with a gleeful smile. "Ah, Zarazu. So good to see you. Seems fate has lead me to you one last time."

Zarazu nearly shuddered at that creepy smile. Somehow, Zemalocke had gotten past her husband and she suddenly feared for his sake.

"If you hurt Covarog, I'll freeze you inside out!"

"Then how about we just skip the pretence and correct the term. I 'killed' Covarog." He looks at her furiously. "I don't appreciate the lengths you made me go over the years trying to put and end to you and your barbaric family."

"You're the plague in this society!" Zarazu spat at him venomously, knowing there was no possible way Zemalocke could ever hope to defeat her husband. "My family has done nothing to you! You're so stuck in the past traditions you cannot see how bright the future already is!"

"The future has a dark one that only I can prepare us for. That only MY rule will lead us away from. Honestly I'm glad that the poison hit you instead of its intended target. Maybe I'll keep your youngest son alive just for the sheer entertainment of seeing him grow retarded due to you giving birth to a poisoned rat." Zemalocke laughed cruelly at Zarazu.

"You will never touch my babies." Zarazu hissed at him. "Zahirog is alive and getting better. My twins are already showing signs of being great users of magic. Even if I am no longer on this earth, they have people to look after them. If you even dare to get near them, I'll guarantee you'll be ripped to shreds."

"No. They will die. I will spill their blood. But not before showing them the head of their mother. Show them what vile blood they came from."

Zemalocke draws his rapier. "Time to bleed Zarazu. And die."

If there was ever a time that Zarazu really hated being in a wheelchair, now was that time. She needed a weapon, something to try to hit him or stab him. Kanisa sure left a lot of books in this tower, but where was a damn knife when she needed one? At least there was a glass telescope for her to enjoy the stars during her pregnancy. Wait, that could work. Grabbing the telescope by the hilt, she held it as if she was going to swing a sword.

"You'll have to get through me first, you vile, filthy, two-headed son of a damn Dodongo!"

Zemalocke looked at her dead pan, then laughed hysterically, his accent really breaking loose. "I must say, you are making this far more enjoyable then I thought you would. Was annoyed when your sister failed to be raped, and the tree hugger's farms weren't all destroyed, but at least you've been entertaining.” He brought his hand to his mouth and chukled. “Ho, ho, ho. But oh no, you clearly have the range advantage now, what ever will I do?" Zemalocke keeps chuckling as he pulls a revolver on her and fires a round into her leg. Perhaps some pleasure first. Get one scream in.

The bullet stung horribly, making her leg ache. Yet, that was all she felt for now. Maybe it was not so bad since she could not feel such pain. At least that would give the adrenaline coursing through her system a bit more purpose. Biting her lip, she held back a pained groan. She had to move. With a deep breath, Zarazu managed to stand out of her wheelchair, wobbly leaning on the desk there for leverage. Her feet moved awkwardly as she still held onto the telescope. Well, now it was time for projectiles. Grabbing books as fast as she could, Zarazu mentally told herself she'd get Kanisa another copy later. She hurled them at the baron, doing anything to distract him in hopes she could reach the stairs.

Zemalocke manoeuvred around the books and gave the Queen a swipe across her arm. "Pathetic! This is what the Queen of Hyrule is capable of?" As she ran to the stairs he grabbed her by the hair and threw her back to the centre of the tower.

A yelp escaped her lips as Zemalocke tossed her to the floor. She hit the ground and reacted by pulling the rug underneath his feet, hard. Covarog would come, someone would come, she was NOT going to die by the hands of this maniac! As Zemalocke lost his balance, Zarazu kicked him in the knee, hoping to do some damage and then swung the telescope at his midsection.

Zemalocke grunted in pain at the kick to his knee. Grabbing the telescope he snarled at her. "You DARE lay a fibre of your filth against me?!" He threw the telescope to the side and smacked her to the floor. "Enough of this. First you, then the children you have hidden in those underground tunnels."

"You won't get my children!" Zarazu shot her hand forth and grasped his bare ankle to... what?! The shock was apparent on her face. Her magic... wasn't working?!

Zemalocke smiled like a mad dog seeing her magic not work. The medallion around his neck worked!!! "Foolish witch. Your powers have no effect on me! Superior Hylian Intelligence prepared me." He drives his sword through her palm, and grinds it around. “HAHAHA YOU’VE LOST!!!”

~

Covarog paced himself as two of Zemalocke’s goons prepared to strike. The King parried a few strike then threw a fireball of dark magic at one of them. They kept dodging about with incredible flexibility.

The King was getting tired. One of them lit a fire arrow and prepared to strike, when Ralnor drove his sword through the man’s heart. “No one gets to rough my brothers dashing face.”

Malik came running through and slammed his fist across the last guards head, caving in a part of his skull. He didn’t even stop, gaining a clear lead on the brothers. “Come on!”

Ralnor nodded to his brother, and when they heard Zarazu’s scream of pain, they knew time was running out.

~

Zarazu screamed as the sword pierced her hand. She gritted her teeth and yanked her hand away, the middle and index finger ripped apart from her action. Magic or not, she still had to fight. Scuttling backwards, Zarazu yanked a sharp letter opener from the desk.

"Coward!" She snapped at him. "Using dirty tricks!"

"Alas. Words. Words are all you have." Zemalocke smiles gleefully and draws his gun at her head. "Any last of them?"

"Yeah... you should have never called Malik a filthy undead right to his face when he used to be that way. He really hates it when someone does that."

Zemalocke didn’t catch on right away until Malik threw an energy spear directly at Zemalocke's gun shattering it. Another immediately in range at his head. The magic broke apart when it got too close. The Darknut Commander immediately rammed his blade at Zemalocke.

They each spoke in union as they clashed. "You bastard! How DARE you!!!"

Zarazu made sure to get out of Malik's way. There was no much she could do in this state without magic. Seeing that Zemalocke had some kind of force blocking her use of it in close range, there was no much she could do. Eyes watering, the queen wrapped her bloodied hand in a strip from her dress, securing it tightly. There had to be a way to get out of this mess.

"Zarazu! I'm coming!" Covarog's voice rang from the stairs.

Zemalocke kept his footwork light, dancing around Malik. Malik had taken off his helmet for this one occasion. He wanted Zemalocke to see the man who killed him, to look into the eyes of his superior.

"You tried to wipe my family out!"

"They deserved to be with the devil!"

Malik made quick motions, parrying back and forth with Zemalocke. He had the power, but the Baron had the speed. Zemalocke spun and cut Malik's cheek. "Fool, you can't win!" Drawing a second rapier he charged Malik. The duel bladed style was a fighting technique Malik was uncustomed against. He had to take on more hits. If he dodged, Zemalocke could go after Zarazu.

The way Zemalocke moved allowed the necklace dangling around his neck to come into view. Gasping, Zarazu knew immediately where she had seen a description of such an item. That was what limited her magic. The queen shouted, "The medallion! Malik, crush the medallion!!!"

Zemalocke snarled and kept fighting. "You're kind is over!"

Malik held his blade locked with Zemalocke's. At the stairs he saw Ralnor with his brother. If anyone was skilled with a precise strike it would be the Prince. He nodded at him. One shot at this. Zemalocke might feel threatened by multiple opponents and kill himself if it meet killing Zarazu.

"Kings have tried. Demons have tried. You won't even get a start."

Malik spat in his face, and bashed against the Baron's blades, knocking him off balance.

Ralnor was quick to withdraw a dagger. He had heard Zarazu telling Malik to destroy the necklace around the baron's neck. With absolute precision, it pierced the medallion, causing the ancient token to crack. Shattering to pieces, the item restricting magical energy was no more. Covarog held up his blade to strike Zemalocke, but Zarazu's voice rang out clear.

"NO!" The queen told her husband as the ice traveled from her fingertips to the floor, restricting the baron's movements by his feet. "He's mine. He threatened my children and my family... an easy death is much too merciful."

Zemalocke growled and raised to throw a sword at her. "I WON'T ALLOW-"

Malik cut him off by severing his hand. The Baron screamed in pain. "You dare make me bleed you animals!!!"

"Help me up." Zarazu told her husband, Covarog carefully lifting his wife. Ralnor stood guard, keeping a watchful eye out for any other traitors that may come up the stairs. On shaky legs, the Lorleidian queen had to hold onto her lover to keep upright due to the bullet in her leg and the blood loss from her shredded hand. "I might have spared your life for your son's sake... but you threatened my babies." She stuck a finger into his severed hand, having the ice spread throughout his arm. It stopped at the shoulder and the queen nodded at Malik. "Crush it."

screamed as his arm was frozen up. Malik nodded and snapped his finger, summoning a mace. With one strong swing he shattered the arm. Zemalocke's yell echoed throughout. "Don't you know who you're dealing with?! I am BARON Victor Von Zemalocke! You're master!!!"

"A Lorleidian has no master, a Gerudo has no master, a Hylian has no master, and you, Victor, are master of none." Zarazu froze the other arm, the ice creeping up ever so slowly to the baron's shoulder. "You're just a sad and pathetic man. You use low tactics to manipulate those less fortunate than you and cowardly hide behind others to do your dirty work. You're lower than dragon shit." She didn't have to tell Malik what she intended to do. "The other one."

"Love, is this necessary? Lorleidians do not condone vio-" Covarog was interrupted by his wife.

"The worm threatened my babies, threatened to show them my severed head before killing them." Zarazu silenced him with a look. "You will not deny me this."

"Then we do things the Gerudo way. The Ancient way." Malik spoke to Covarog in their tongue. He shattered the other arm. Zemalocke screamed once more, then started to laugh again. "You still deny your barbarism?! How low you maggots are?!"

"Actually, I think a touch of barbarism is exactly what I need right now." Zarazu traveled lower, starting with a leg. "Lorleidians had a penalty for treason against the crown; death. No arguments or excuses made, just death. However, it had a twist. If found plotting, then the traitor was usually thrown to the dragons. Yet, a failed assassination attempt? The king or queen was able to select their own method of punishment." She narrowed her eyes at him, a crass smile caressing her lips. "Care to guess what mine is? Malik crossed me once and he learned his lesson. It seems to me, you're not learning fast enough." She pointed. "Now that leg."

Malik scowled at Zarazu for bringing that up, and gave Zemalocke a kick to knock him backwards, his legs snapping off and staying in place. The Baron hissed with wrath as he wiggles around. "You'll all BURN! ALL OF YOU!!!"

"Sorry dear, just making a point, at least you got a new arm." Zarazu apologize as she watched as the baron wriggled on his back like a flipped turtle. It was just pitiful. Still, she found a tint of enjoyment for watching him suffer. "You don't get it, do you?" The queen bent down far enough to hold a finger under his chin. "There's always going to be scum like you, not liking changes in the kingdom or others that are difference. The only problem is that you'll gain no loyalties for being a racist asshole. You only gain loyalty and trust when you are kind..." Her eyes glanced to Malik. "And understanding despite what disputes were in the past." As the Baron's head started to freeze, Zarazu told him with a grin, "Don't worry, Victor... I'll see to it that your son is raised properly."

"This isn't over....you....bi-" Zemalocke's face was frozen with fury. His heart stopped beating and all his organs shut down. Malik looked down at the rioters below the tower that were left. Grabbing the body, he took it and threw it down to the people below.

Zemalocke was conscious the whole way as he fell. How could he fail? He was supposed to be King. He was supposed to rule. Immense fear filled him as he neared the ground. Mercy. He wanted Mercy. In his last moment, he tried to scream, but nothing of such magnitude came, instead, a simple hiss as his lungs failed him. He shattered into pieces hitting the ground.

His followers, upon seeing the body of their would be savour, surrendered immediately. Malik sighed thinking over how much devastation that man had brought. “It’s over.”

"You need to get that hand looked at." Ralnor gently touched Zarazu's crudely wrapped palm and she grimaced. "The Dusas can heal such a thing, right?"

"Yes, though, I'll probably earn another scar." Zarazu held onto Covarog heavily before looking at him in the eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just a few scratches here and there." The king sighed as he held his wife close. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"You should go check on Asa." Ralnor told Malik with a slight frown. "She's been fighting this entire time. She's probably on her last legs using her latest... um... puppet knights."

Malik looked down at all the Hylian traitors silently as they were arrested and round up. At the remains of their leader. How much destruction these people caused. His fist squeezed at his hatred of those people. Would it ever leave him fully?

~

Tulilad was breathing heavily as he walked to see if any of the fallen traitors were still alive. Some were arrested and the others were put out of their misery. Even Kelly was exhausted from fighting off so many enemies. Asakonigei, though, she looked like she was having a fit. Her entire body trembled with effort to keep the knights upright. The metal puppets were shaking, a few on their knees and the others using their swords as a cane to keep upright.

"Is... is that all of them?" Asakonigei asked, sweat drenching her forehead.

"I think so." Tulilad replied. "I hope so."

Kelly wiped the blood from her sword, absolutely drained, physically and emotionally. "You two ok?"

"I will be after I sleep until the end of time." Tulilad chuckled dryly as wiped some dried blood off his cheek. "... but before that a shower."

"It sounds like... Tulilad has the right idea..." Asakonigei slumped to her knees, unable to keep upright as her chest heaved for air. The magic strings connecting to the knights vanished and the puppets were dead still. Her hands shook terribly as she tried to take a moment to gather her bearings.

"Good to hear." Kelly leaned down, and, clearing the blood off his other cheek then down to his lips, kissed him.

Malik slowly walked in, observing the carnage.

"Asa? Are you well?"

"Hrm... I could perhaps be persuaded to wash your back if you ask nicely enough." Tulilad flirted with Kelly. "What do you say to that?"

Kelly smiled and kissed him again. "I'd like that."

"You first." Tulilad teased as he followed Kelly back to the castle. "I'm not cleaning up this mess. We'll let the rookies do it."

Asakonigei looked up at her husband with a sheepish, but tired smile.

"I... I haven't used magic like that since giving birth and..." The Kovina still shivered from the lack of magic in her system. "Well... I'm a bit out of practice. I think I used too much too soon..."

Malik nodded and scooped Asakonigei up. "Let's go to bed. Zelda can return our son later."

"I'm a bit icky, Malik." Asakonigei pulled at the front of her sweaty shirt for emphasize. "Might need to wash up a bit before sleeping. I could sleep for ages... and making Zelda a babysitter for now, hrm?"

"She owes me whatever I want after killing me..." Malik carried her away. At least the battle was won.

~

Alexander meekly looked at the floor as he was brought before the Queen. He wore a black suit for mourning.

The threat to the kingdom was gone yet it still left damage. Little Alexander was now an orphan. His maidservants had been watching after him for the time being. Zarazu felt sorry for the poor boy, yet she knew in her heart that Zemalocke was a traitor. There was nothing she could do or say to comfort him about the terrible stories floating around the castle. The most she could do was offer a safe place to stay.

"Alexander?" Zarazu spoke softly, her hand still wrapped in bandages. It would return to normal within a few days, thanks to the healing from the Dusas. Her leg was healing nicely, the bullet passing clean through her flesh. "I know you must think poorly of my family after all this mess, I wouldn't blame you. However, you have a choice to make for now. You can either stay here and learn at Hyrule Castle under the same tutors that teach Luimaya and Turagor, learning the ways of the royal court. Or, you can seek out a distant family member to go and live with until of age to resume rule of your late father's castle."

Alexander didn't know what to think. "I'm smart enough to rule my father's business Queen Zarazu. I don't HAVE any family left, and I won't let anyone else take hold of my family's property, our.....legacy...."

"I know you are, dear, I know, and no one will take what belongs to you, I promise. Right now, you're just still too young to be on your own." Zarazu tried explaining to him very carefully. "Do you know of anyone would can take care of you? An aunt? An uncle? Someone?"

"House maids."

"I meant blood relation, Alexander." Zarazu told the boy with a small frown. "The laws of our land state that a youngling like you has to have someone to care for him."

"No. They're all dead. I'm an orphan in every sense. Father gave me an education higher then most. I am more then qualified. Hand maids are fine."

Alexander kept his emotions as tight as he could, a little scowl on his face.

"... let us compromise, Alexander." Zarazu hobbled toward the young boy with her sole crutch. Standing in front of him, she gently placed her bandaged hand on his shoulder. "I'll let you go back to you castle if you take one of my caretakers with you. Most of the women have children that are grown and gone, a few are widowed. It would be a good job for them and you'd get the care you needed. You can even pick which lady you like best." She smiled quietly at him. "Though you know, you are always welcome to stay here."

"I..." Alexander tried to stay tough, but then hugged her, snivelling. All that he had been through was too much for him. "O-ok."

"Shh, shh, it's okay to cry." Zarazu bent down on a knee to hug the boy. "I'm here if you need me, no matter what it is. For what it is worth, I'm sorry about your father... but I am glad you are a good soul." She stroked his hair gently. "You'll be a fantastic baron one day and your land will flourish. Just make sure you come and visit once in a while, yes? Knowing Luimaya and Turagor, you'll be missed on our afternoon picnics."

"O-ok. I will." Alexander dried his tears and, letting go, gave Zarazu a bow. "I should choice a caretaker. And for what it's worth, I hope I’m a good Baron too one day. Different then my father."

"You'll be wonderful, Alex." Zarazu gave his head a small pat, smiling at the boy. "We'll all be here for you, cheering you on no matter what. You be safe traveling home and never hesitate to call upon me if you need me."

Zarazu hoped that the boy could be a beacon of hope, and a proper link for her people and Hylians in the future.

   (Glad to finally have finished my second larger collaboration with @ridersoftheapocalypse! Expect more stories from us to continue in the future!)