#this man would be a nightmare on stealth missions

[emmg]

Rook: trying to make a serious point to the First Warden/intimidate a Venatori/parlay with Anaris/be stealthy/literally do anything that fucking matters

Emmrich, the walking treasure hoard in the background, adjusting his numerous pieces of jewelry and priceless adornments: jingle jingle

Rook, mid-conversation, pouring their heart out about how important the mission is, and every time they take a step forward for dramatic emphasis, all you hear is Emmrich clinking like a goddamn chandelier behind them

Venatori: “Is he… is he jingling?”

Rook: “IGNORE HIM. FOCUS ON ME.”

[lazycats-stuff]

Bruce rescuing a reader who can shapeshift into a bat when scared, like he can hardly control it at first, he's the product of some experiment and of course Bruce has to take him in. So now Bruce finds himself with a small little bat snuggling into the crook of his neck at night because reader has a nightmare

Aw, that's adorable. Also, some cartoon bats

Summary: (Y/N) is a cute bat who can't really control it.

Warnings: human experiments, shapeshifting... Nothing too detailed.

Bruce sighed quietly as he was sitting in a Justice League meeting. He knew that human experiments will always be persistent, but they had to eradicate it. It was almost like a plague at this point and he didn't like it in the slightest.

" We don't like it either Bruce. " Wonder Woman said from the opposite side of the desk. Bruce just looked at the location that was put on the hologram screen. The lab in America, but somewhere deep in the mountains. Probably somewhere underground... If this is something that the government funds, Bruce will lose his mind.

Is he crazy enough to dress a Bat and fight criminals, assassins and God knows what else? Yes. But the government? Eh. Sort of. If Tim hears about this, he will also flip the lid. Why? Because he can finally prove some conspiracies that circulate around the government. God knows Tim didn't sleep for days, trying to prove a single theory.

Bruce lost count of having to sedate Tim just to force his ass to bed and to sleep for at least, at least, 7 hours in a single night. Not chopped up during the day, just one single damn night. Just goddamn one.

" I would like to say that Red Robin cannot know about this. " Bruce stated, just looking at the screen.

" Why can't he know about this? " Green Lantern asked.

" Because then you will sedate Red Robin, just to sleep. "

Green Lantern look at him in shock. " I beg you pardon? "

" Yup. He refuses to sleep. Sedation was the last step. " Bruce gave a vague explanation and Green Lantern decided to leave it alone. He won't question Bruce in the slightest. He won't get an answer anyway.

" So when do we depart for this mission? " Bruce asked, waiting patiently for Superman to give him an answer.

" We are going tomorrow. According to the intel, there will be resistance, so stealth is very important. " Superman said.

" So that means one of you will mess up. Stealth is something everyone in this room lacks. " Bruce stated with a dry tone and Flash wanted to argue, but knew it was true.

Stealth was something that they all lacked.

" Either way, the goal of this mission is to get information and save people who might be in there. " Superman said.

" If there will be there. " Bruce said in his ominous tone, eyes darkening at the mere thought of it. Superman knew exactly what he meant.

Killing them to cover their tracks.

" Well, I'll hold out hope that they will be alive. " Superman said, still trying to be positive, but Bruce knew it was a low chance that anyone was even alive.

But hey, you never know.

The fight in the lab was fucking tedious. Turns out, Lex Luthor created this lab. Tim is really going to have a fucking field day with this. Bruce shook his head as he made his way down to the holding cells of the League.

They managed to find one person who was alive and that was just in the nick of time. Bruce managed to take a guard down quickly and he was shocked to find a hysterical bat, flying around the lab cell before landing in his arms.

Then the said bat shifted into a human and then back into a bat. It was fun to say the least. But Bruce had no time to waste back then. He took the man and just ran with a lone survivors, while others were busy fighting.

In the end, he had to sedate them man while in human form because everything was triggering the shifting. It was to make the fly back to the League headquarters. After an hour or so, everything was quiet and lab was secured.

They finally have a case against Lex Luthor. Thank God. Bruce still held (Y/N) in his arms while waiting for the others to come. The fly back was smooth and quiet. Everyone was tired beyond belief and in no mood to talk.

Once landing at the HQ, Bruce took the man to a holding cell where doctors were waiting. Bruce called Tim and told him to get to the Batcave as soon as possible. Tim sounded exhausted, but when Lex was mentioned, he was wide awake all of a sudden.

Bruce quickly used the zeta tubes to get to the Batcave. Tim was waiting and Bruce gave him an USB stick. After explaining the situation to Tim, Bruce took a quick shower while Alfred cleaned up the suit.

It was nice and refreshing. Besides, (Y/N) will be out for a few hours anyway. Bruce finished the shower and got into a clean suit that Alfred had ever so cleaned.

" Thank you very much Alfred. " Bruce thanked him as he put on his suit.

" No problem master Bruce. I overheard you conversation with master Tim. Is there really a lone survivor? " Alfred asked and Bruce nodded.

" Yup. He can shapeshift into a bat. " Bruce said and Alfred chuckled at that.

" Batman saves a little bat. How poetic. " Alfred noted, chuckling quietly.

" Yup. I'll go back now and wait for him to wake up to talk to him to see what we can do. " Bruce explained and yawned.

" I see... Is Lex Luthor really the founder of the lab? " Alfred inquired and Bruce nodded as he took the cowl in his hands.

" Yes he is. We finally have a case against him. " Bruce said proudly.

" Is that why master Tim is currently happy? " Alfred asked, glancing at his grandson, who was on the batcomputer, just typing away happily, a cup of coffee near.

" The moment he is done, please sedate him. " Bruce whispered and Alfred chuckled.

" Already ahead of you master Bruce. " Alfred whispered back and Bruce nodded as he put his cowl back on.

And the rest was history. Bruce learned that the little bat's name was (Y/N) and Bruce said that he would take him in. Of course Bruce would take the little bat in. They boys had so much fun with (Y/N) watching him shift.

But one thing that they recognized was the fact that (Y/N) couldn't control his shifting. If he got too scared, he would shift. Too anxious? You have a little bat on your hands.

Soon enough, Bruce fell in love and moved him into his bedroom so they could share a bed. Bruce was more than happy and so was (Y/N). But (Y/N), more often then not, had nightmares from his time in the lab.

And that's why (Y/N) was currently a little bat, moving closer to Bruce's neck. It wasn't to take a bite, it was to snuggle into it. Bruce smile, facing the little bat, but eyes were still closed. (Y/N) snuggled closer, folding himself in a ball and just sighing quietly.

Bruce smiled more as the feeling of his neck being tickled.

" A nightmare? " Bruce asked quietly and (Y/N) just gave a little chirp in return. Bruce gently patted (Y/N) before falling asleep again. This was going to be something very nice in the long run and Bruce couldn't wait.

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: WE MADE IT TO CHAPTER FIVE!! EVERYBODY CLAP!! labour of love fr <3 but we're almost to the scene that sparked the whole freakin series and i. oh man im just yearning for that hurt/comfort

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

CHAPTER FIVE :: CONFIDANTS

You look younger in your sleep, Azriel thinks.

He doesn't think he's ever seen you like this before. The hard lines of your face are all smoothed out as you rest, so unlike your usual expression. There's something softer about you.

The constant furrow between your brows is whisked away for once. He can still see the familiar line between your brows though, if he looks close enough.

If he can look past the bruises that mottle your face, that is.

The damage you've sustained from training within the camp is severe enough to curdle something sour in his stomach.

Azriel had held his reservations about his trip back to Velaris— a suspicion that proved to be well founded. His own memories of training at Windhaven provide plentiful ways for you to have ended up in this state.

You’re curled up instinctively in your sleep, wings tucked around yourself. It sews of thread of worry through Azriel's chest, a slight concern at the state of your wounds and how the position will agitate them. While you don't move much in your sleep, he knows from experience that it'll be hell when you finally do stretch back out.

But... he can’t bring himself to wake you. You need the sleep desperately.

Azriel is fairly certain that the huddled form you take is some subconscious way to protect yourself, even in your sleep. Your wings drape across yourself, keeping yourself covered, hidden.

And while that makes some part of Azriel's heart ache, he can't deny that you—it looks… sort of cute.

Azriel forces himself to avert his eyes, ducking his chin for extra measure. Those pesky thoughts were becoming more and more frequent — something that he's pointedly ignoring at this point.

Protect, his shadows whirl around his ears like tiny gusts of wind, whispering their suggestions. Protect, they whisper.

Protect. Both a thought and a feeling. A guiding intuition that seems to reverberate from his very bones.

The suggestion from his shadows isn't entirely left field either, as they always take inspiration from what he can see. From his wandering thoughts, from his prolonged gentle gaze that lays upon you whenever he can.

Azriel scowls lightly at himself. He had no claim to protect you and further more, most Illyrian males like yourself would take great amounts of offence to the mere insinuation. He knows that you are more than capable.

He steals another glance at your peaceful, sleeping figure and his shadows seem to quieten in response— at least about you. The whispers don't ever truly quieten.

Azriel's fairy certain where they're getting their ideas. It's what he wonders too as he takes in your battered face once more—whether it’s the truth or just his familiar brand of desperate hope.

Something that would explain the urge to protect beyond reason.

Something like... a bond forged in starlight.

The Mother's Kiss whistles quietly outside and Azriel shifts his gaze again and this time, it lays upon the Heartstriker.

Sitting atop the one table-top in your shelter, the blade stays sheathed away in the very same bejeweled case that Azriel had found it in. Same as on that very first day he laid his hands on it.

It had been a wretched mission. One of his very first. It was not performed with the eloquence he would come to learn in future years.

Heartstriker had not been the objective of the mission. Far from it, in truth. The objective was a simple stealth reconnaissance into the Court of Nightmares.

He was to delve beneath the rock of the mountain in a mission very similar to his current. Swirlings of rumours and whispers of rebellion, against the new Highlord. Azriel was there to learn who had the guts to pick up the knife and try.

Heartstriker was a ploy. A shiny trick that Azriel had not yet learned how to evade.

He was still a novice by his own standards, only a few hundred years old. Spying in this sense was still fresh, still new. The work he had done under Rhysand's father during the war had been far more reliant on his brute strength. He had strict instructions not to hesitate to draw his blade.

It had taken time to relearn the importance in a message sent with words.

To remember the power of mercy.

This mission had been the first and only time Azriel had underestimated the measures in place in the Court of Nightmares, meant to keep out the likes of him.

His hesitance to kill had given another Fae time to trip an alarm, to flood the room with warriors. So when he had been backed into a corner by the snarling miscreants that lived in the belly of the mountain, taken by surprise, he hadn't hesitated to snatch up any weapon he could reach.

And it had branded him, singeing him right to his core.

But when he tried to force his fingers apart, they wouldn't obey, even as they screamed with the pain of the invisible flames. It was as though his hand had become fused with the blade, each atom of his being completely joined with the bronze of the sword through a terrible, unstoppable and invisible force.

Every part of him shrieked in agony. An age-old fear reared up within him, his hands burning like they were set alight and he could feel the flames licking at his skin, at his hands, could smell the scent of burning flesh—

He had fought on and won, all the same, taking on two battles at once. Fighting foes by real and faux, all whilst burning up from within all the while. The sword was immeasurably heavy and yet too light, all at once.

And only once almost all his enemies were slain, their blood staining the marble floors, did the burning cease. The blade seem to hum in response to the battle— drawn to the final foe who was clawing for his breath through his blood-soaked throat.

The tip of the sword had urged Azriel forward, like pulled by an invisible string, and he let it lead him, plunging the blade through the chest and into the heart of the last enemy left.

Only after, had the humming stopped. The sword finally clattered from Azriel's strong grip, the fusion broken.

His hands were same as ever, mottled with their scars, but with no indication of the burning he knew he had felt.

On his return, Rhys had told him the history of the sword and it's duly fitting name: Heartstriker.

It hadn't been claimed in centuries and as such, naturally it had come to live amongst other cursed objects within the Court of Nightmares. Unable to be used, unless someone bested the pain it took to raise it.

But Azriel had, entirely by accident.

It is said that once mastered, it will always strike true. Rhys had said, violet eyes gleaming as he looked over the bronze sword with piqued interest. That it's more than a regular sword but a living thing you must work in tandem with.

If anyone tries to take it from you, they must suffer the same fate. It can be gifted freely but, He had paused, that smirk that held no warmth in it pulling at his lips. I'm sure you can guess how often that happens down there.

It hadn't been used within the Night Court either, condemned to another hundred years or so without sight of battle. Azriel had more than enough blades of his own. The Illyrian broadsword that he had earned all that time ago in the Blood Rite for a proper battle and his Truth-Teller for the finer details.

Heartstriker wasn't right for his stature. Too short, strange weighted.

He'd kept it all the same. Perhaps, he told himself, to keep some other Fae from suffering the same fate if they laid hands on it.

His hazel eyes drift back across to you, bundled within yourself. You make a noise in your sleep, a gentle snuffle, and Azriel finds himself smiling.

Or perhaps, he thinks, he knew to keep it for entirely other reasons.

—

The quick healing of Illyrian's is more often a blessing than it is a curse.

On today's quiet winter morning, it is somehow both.

When you wake, dragged from your slumber in the early hours, it's before the sun has begun to make an appearance on the horizon. The shelter is coated in a soft darkness of dawn. The trees sway outside, a thousand creatures still roaming amongst their branches, reliant on the dark before daylight breaks.

It's the pain that wakes you, ebbing in through your sleep til it shakes off your sleep. You wake with your teeth already gritted.

The only pleasant surprise is that fact you're not shuddering yourself awake out of a nightmare, especially considering yesterday's training session.

You have a feeling that it has something to do with the sleeping Illyrian, propped up beside the fireplace, keeping watch.

His shadows still move about, even in his sleep. His neck is tucked down, his forehead pressed against his knee. It hides away part his face but as your eyes adjust to the shadowy light, you can make out his closed eyes. His hair looks messier than you've ever seen it.

It can't be comfortable, sleeping the way he is— but you have a feeling that Azriel has slept in places far worse before.

Shifting about in the darkness, your hand comes down to press tenderly at your sides, assessing as quietly as you can. There's no immediate sting of sliced skin as your fingers tips poke and prod at the skin, which makes you sigh in relief. You press down again, at bit harder this time, and it forces a wince out your gritted teeth.

Extremely bruised. But at the very least, the skin has knitted itself together in the nighttime.

Your face still aches, too. It's not quite the same ringing that made both eyes throb painfully yesterday and with a slow wrinkle of your nose, you can assess that the worst of your broken nose has healed up too.

Your ears, however, poses a different problem. One of them, the right side, still rings lightly. It would be more concerning, you think, if the left one itself wasn't so muffled altogether.

Huffing out a breath, you drag yourself up to a sitting position, moving at a tentative pace. Pain ricochets around your body. You're doing the best you can to be quiet but it's futile it seems — there's one creak of the bed as your weight shifts and Azriel's wings twitch, giving him away. He’s awake.

He lifts his head slowly, letting it roll from one side to the next, stretching out his neck. It's the only indication he gives you of feeling sore from his cramped sleep all night, his attentive eyes already watching you closely. His shadows, you notice, seem to gain speed at his rousing— circling his shoulders and neck closely.

You clear your throat and focus your gaze forward, resuming the task at hand. Raising one hand, you snap your fingers beside your left ear, then your right.

Frustration bubbles up inside you as you repeat the motion, as if it’ll change the outcome.

It doesn’t.

At least beyond the ringing, your right ear can hear the snap clearly— a keen Fae sense that like any warrior, you rely heavily on. The left one…

All you can think is that they must have hit you pretty damn hard to leave it as dulled as it feels. It can still hear, thankfully, but the noise that filters through is muffled around the edges. Buzzy. It makes you feel off kilter and unbalanced.

You let your hand drop and try to remain stoic, so used to hiding your emotions away from your face. You don't realise your drooping, limp wings give you away anyways.

Azriel gets to his feet swiftly, the movement so smooth you would have never guessed he spent the night tucked up uncomfortably against the bricks of your fireplace. He regards you with those burning amber eyes and your heart seems to lurch forward in response. You avert your gaze.

"It would seem we have an opportunity to test out our efforts." He says. His voice is still coated in sleep, low and rumbley, and it sends a bright zing down your spine. You lift your gaze from your lap and raise your brows in question.

He waves a hand to the table, in gesture.

Your various ingredients for brewing the tonics stay tucked in one corner, some wrapped up and set beneath the table. There are several different bottles too, stoppered with corks and containing yours and Azriel's attempts at the healing tonics.

It takes another moment to understand what he means.

"No," You say sharply, climbing to your feet. A thousand parts of your ache and groan in protest and you channel your focus into not letting a single ounce of it show.

Rolling your tense shoulders back, you wander towards your armor in slow steady steps. "Those aren't for me. I've healed enough in the night."

"I see." Azriel replies. "Is that why your left ear isn't working right?"

Gaze snapping back to him, you curse his ever-so observant nature. Maybe that's on you for trying to keep a secret from a Shadowsinger.

You are keeping a secret from a shadowsinger, something whispers in you.

A cold flush fills your body, numbing out every nerve for a single moment. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your wings hike up, tuck in. It feels wrong.

For the first time in your life, it feels so so utterly wrong to be keeping this secret from someone. To be hiding who you truly are.

But Azriel... he was a stranger not too long ago, wasn't he? You're not sure if you can even call each other friends, even if you had begun to in your mind, without even realising.

You think back to last night, to when he could have easily lifted your shirt a few inches higher when trying to save your life and known.

Then you wonder if he did — and he hasn't said anything.

If he's waiting for you to trip up, to fess up, to explain to him why you've been lying to him from the moment you first met him.

Azriel seems to sense your internal battle, the same way he seems senses a thousand things from you as though he's known you his whole life. He clears his throat to get your attention. When you focus your vision back on him, you notice one of the bottles is in his scarred fingers.

"I will train you today," He says. "On the condition that you take it."

Your nose twitches. It's an ultimatum. He knows you want to train, to brush off yesterday and let the pain in your body fuel the determination of today but he won't let you do it so carelessly. Bastard.

Before you can blink, he tosses the bottle across to you. You react instinctively, cradling your hands to catch it quickly before you realise what you're doing. Your nose twitches again, a tiny flare of annoyance at his smugness.

No, not smugness. Surety. His expression, bordering on bored, tells you that he knows you don't have any other options— unless you want to climb back into bed and rot for the day.

You yank the cork off the bottle harshly. Then, just to show him how unpleased you are with this, you lob the cork at him with all your might. Your bruised side screams in response. Azriel snatches from the air easily, without so much as a blink.

He looks like he wants to smile but thinks the better of it, placing the cork gently onto the table. "I'll meet you outside." He eyes the uncorked bottle in your hand then back at you. "Drink it. Please."

—

The tonic, as you find out, is only mildly effective.

It's a gutting discovery. The mixture is nowhere near potent enough to fix the level of nerve damage that gets inflicted during clippings if it barely lightens the bruises on your side.

The mottled blue painted on your skin gives way to a light purple, the edges of them retracting to a tinged yellow. The skin glows hot as the tonic works as best as it can.

The taste of it is nearly as rancid as the failure feels.

You deal with it the only way you know how; chewing it up and spitting it back out as determination to do better. The drive to push yourself harder in training rears up, fiery and stubborn— harder than you logically know is any help to yourself.

What was already tedious and heinous training is made that much worse by your injuries.

You're moving sloppily today, offbeat. The dullness in your left ear helps to keep you off balance. Still, you manage to keep up with Azriel— not quite the one step ahead you're usually aiming for but, at the very least, you're still holding your own.

Your ribs ache and your heads throbs. The ringing in your right ear has disappeared with the help of the tonic, only to have started up in the left. A relief in one sense— it's good to be hearing more of anything. A fucking pain in another.

The only major upside, really, is the sword.

The Heartstriker, Azriel had called it

You had been half convinced it was a hallucination, the gift. Sure that it some desperate illusion born out of the delirium of the blood loss because, really, when was the last time you had ever gotten a gift?

When you'd limped your way out into the snow and saw it in his hands, you had blinked in disbelief.

But it's almost like Azriel had expected it, his scarred hands reaching out to gently curl around your wrist, murmuring its name as he had pressed it into your hand. It's yours, he had said.

He had let go of your wrist go immediately, stepping back but not far, still hovering close by. He let you have a moment to marvel at it before he urged you to follow to the usual neck of the woods you trained in. The sound of clashing steel had soon followed.

It's a perfect addition, you find.

The blade is like a mere extension of your own arm. It's light enough to carve through the air with ease but when you strike, it's buries deep. Compared the Illyrian broadsword used in training at camp, it suits your stature far better. You move more agilely, hit more frequently and harder when you do.

It's probably the best thing you've ever owned— ever held.

You're gazing at it where it rests on your lap, glinting in the light of the day, as you try to catch your breath. Azriel had given you a moment to recover, far earlier than normal, due to your injuries, no doubt. Normally, you'd grumble and snarl and push him to continue but today, you're quite happy to have another moment to stare at the first gift you've gotten.

Azriel breaks the silence with a question.

"Why haven't you competed in the Blood Rite?"

Something icy spikes in your blood and your back straightens instinctively, the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end. Whether he knows it or not, he is treading close to dangerous territory.

"Why do you ask?" You answer his question with another question.

Azriel regards you with a certain look, his dark eyes dragging down your body intensely and back up to your face. It's enough to make you fluster momentarily, to feel a faint stirring in your heart that doesn't entirely feel like your own. No one has ever looked at you like that before.

"You're strong. You hold your own. You're of age." He states carefully. "You remain attached to this camp with no rank until you pass it. Why not?"

You scowl at his frame of thinking, as if you haven't passed over those reasons a thousand times. Beyond the fact you can't ever ensure you wouldn't be burdened with your cycle during the Blood Rite, there's more than enough reason for you to remain a nobody.

You feel oddly disappointed that he would think only in that manner; glory and rank.

"What makes you think I want any rank in my camp?" You spit bitingly, watching as his wings sink down an inch at your tone. His misunderstanding of why you've chosen this way of life bothers you more than you expect.

"Because you did?" You ask. "Because three bastards fought their way through it and won and left their shitty pasts behind? I am not you, Azriel."

Azriel doesn't react, not even the raising of his brows. Only his shadows give himself away, whirling around slower than usual. He speaks in that same careful tone as before.

"I know you are not."

He makes you feel foolish for giving in to any lick of your anger, for so quickly snapping at your only friend. You turn your head away and stare down into the snow, taking a breath. Cauldron, you're tired. Lifting you arm, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, clearing the sweat that beads there.

"I could leave but for what reason? Ever since I—" You suck a sharp inhale, swallowing back words that dance too close to giving you away. You pray he doesn't notice your hesitation. "Ever since I was young, this has been my goal. This change must come from within, you know that."

You inhale again, feeling the breath rattle past every ache and pain in your chest.

"I can only do the things I do... the things I must achieve, by being unnoticeable."

You cast a glance up to him. "To them, I am some bastard who won't give up and die. I am not a proper threat. You, of all people, should understand that it's easiest to work when people are not paying proper attention."

And that's all you have known — how to become unnoticeable when needed and how to be noticed when wanted. Attention, you've learned, only means a target on your back.

Beyond that... you can't imagine someone who would want to notice you for anything more. You've had many, many years to make peace with that bitter fact.

I am.

Without warning, there's a sudden thrum from deep within you, like a echo of a drum, of a call. It's golden and threaded with softness. I am paying attention.

It startles you, one hand flying to your armored chest in surprise. As quick as it had appeared, the hum flees and leaves your bound chest twingeing only in its usual discomfort. One moment of brief serenity. You long for it, despite the unfamiliar nature.

You realise abruptly that you've trailed off and force yourself to move, body aching in the process. Heartstriker sinks into the snow and you use it to clamber to your feet, not nearly as graceful as you would like. Azriel doesn't say anything.

In fact, when you lift your gaze to meet his, he's staring at you more intensely than usual. His shadows seem more agitated. They flit about, circling his hands more than his shoulders, and you can barely see the scarred skin through their inky darkness.

There's a long moment. Around you both, the trees creek as they bend in the wind, a thousand leaves rustling around you in a chorus.

Azriel breaks the silence, casting his eyes to the ground and lifting his blade. "No more questions."

He says it like a promise, his lips pulling at the edges like he might be offering a smile.

"Just fighting."

—

By the time the moon rises, the ache in your body has dimmed to a more bearable pain.

While you'd be miffed at the idea of Azriel pulling his punches, you can't deny the sliver of gratitude you have for it now. As you reach over the cauldron of simmering stew, only a few of your ribs twinge enough to make your motions falter momentarily. The stew bubbles and brews, filling your shelter with a hearty smell.

It's been too long since you last cooked something to share.

You try to shelve the guilt away—you and Azriel have been running a very tight schedule, switching between training, tonics and rest. Taking time to cook, for yourself or others, hasn't even had time to cross your mind.

Your brief brush back with the reality during yesterday's training, however, had provided you with ample reminders. Your home camp and all its violent glory.

So, you cook. The logs crackle on the fire and above them, the stew simmers gently as you stir absentmindedly at it. Giving yourself this quiet moment, you let your thoughts drift as the tiredness of the day trickles into your body. Your thoughts turn to the quiet Shadowsinger.

He had taken his leave as soon as he had declared the end of your days training, needing another trip to Velaris.

I'll be back by morning, he had said, each of his seven cerulean siphons flaring brightly before he stepped between the fabric of the world and disappeared. Another hidden trick up his sleeve.

You'd allowed yourself only one moment of surprise before you closed your mouth— you really needed to stop underestimating him. As the stew before you begins to hiss and spit, you pull yourself from your thoughts and prepare yourself for the discomfort of meal times.

They never are as friendly as you might hope.

Despite your generosity, the different outcasts of Exordor remain cagey. Regard you with pensive and guarded looks, hands hovering on the butts of their swords. You can't blame them in the slightest.

But those that can brave the walk to your cabin, risking both themselves and your own safety against the other Illyrian brutes in the camp, are rewarded with a hot meal. Tonight, you feed 12 hungry mouths before your doorstep grows quiet.

You pack it all away in silence, with a quite yearning for company you've only just become used to having.

It's only as you're tucking in for the night, your wings wrapped around yourself tightly, does the first pain strike. Right to your core, the very insides of your gut feels as though it's being shredded. You gasp, your entire body curling up tighter to fight against the pain.

For only a moment, confusion clouds your mind at the attack that seems to come from nowhere, from an invisible enemy. Only one answer comes forward—the only thing that can threaten to reveal your secret without your permission, through mere scent alone.

A certain agony that only tortures you twice a year.

[NEXT PART: BETRAYERS]

[cheemscakecat]

Tf2 comic details I noticed

Heavy and Medic very much give me the vibe that they know each other better than the rest of the team knows either of them combined.

This is the first time Heavy is seeing Medic again after the team split, but he’s likely been briefed on the mission to rescue the others. So he’d know about Medic being with Classic team. I think he knows what game doktor is playing.

Medic warning his bestie that Classic has a gun as soon as he can breathe enough to get the words out.

And then heavy proceeded not to care about the immortality machine, because his friend died to a man with no honor.

2. Found some more pain again.

Scou no, hon-ey. [Cries]

3. Emesis Blue parallel/foil?

RED Sniper was locked out of the room, but he managed to get in through a window and saved Spy.

RED Spy tried to use stealth to defeat Classic Sniper, and it would have worked if the man wasn’t a dirty cheater with robo-eyes. He got shot in the leg.

Even if he’s grumpy and standoffish about it, Spy did in fact give his Sniper some credit. And a cigarette when he wanted one.

I’m assuming the suit argument comes from not wanting the man -who takes kidney enlarging pills to produce more pee- to use the drip like a diaper and lecture him about Classic’s soiled britches.

It’s actually BLU Soldier that wants RED Sniper to die slow this time. Maybe because he still believes in Archibald being a good man, and he’s angry about what happened to Scout.

Spy had a really good opportunity to shoot Butcher Pyro, but decided to try and threaten the man with a bigger, faster gun anyways. That’s crazy, talking about “Take off the mask” like he’s gonna be threatened.

He gets shot in the leg for it. Other side, but still near the knee.

Soldier has to run for cover [because powerful gun] and the door locks behind him. He isn’t able to open it after Butcher Pyro runs out of bullets, leaving BLU Spy on his own.

And then he does get tortured.

Also, it seems like BLU doesn’t know RED Sniper very well at all. Spy had to be reminded of his Sniping moral code, but he was still salty about the cheater and bleeding near the knee.

Sniper doesn’t monologue. He did talk to Pauling about his parent situation, but why would he talk to the enemy teammate who shot half his leg off and left him to bleed out? Doesn’t sound like him to me.

4. RED Medic brought Sniper back to life after 12 hours, and post-comics I feel like the BLU team found out. “I seen the other side”. And…

BLU Medic killed RED on sight. Either he assumed he was with the Bloody Engineers, or he knows that guy’s crazy and he’s not taking chances.

Also for all he knows, that’s undead RED Hoovy. Given the fact that RED Medic invented the ubercharge, and Heavy was the first teammate to demonstrate it. And this nightmare hoovy is against Builders League, so how would he know better?

[chiqelatasblog]

CHAPTER ONE : The First Failure

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Prologue is here.

-> Chapter Two link is here.

Pairing : Sub Zero | Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : As you navigate the challenges of this forced union, the uncertainties about the future cast a daunting shadow over your every step. Amidst the grand promises that bind your clans, there lingers a fear—the apprehension of an impending first night that both duty and tradition demand.

The journey ahead unfolds as a delicate dance between obligations, fears, and the pursuit of control in a destiny that feels beyond your grasp.

.

.

.

Two months ago…

‘’The plan is quite simple; gain the trust of the grandmaster. Once you win his, the entire clan will trust you anyway.”

‘’Easy to say but difficult to implement. We've been fighting them for too long, brother. That's why it won't be easy for him to trust me. It may take me months or even years to be able to do what you say! If we could come up with another plan-"

"You will do whatever I say."

Your brother rudely interrupted you, casting a disdainful gaze down at you, his stature towering over yours. Despite not averting your eyes, a subtle shudder ran through your body.

Given your brother's easily provoked and irritable nature, angering him was not only a simple feat but also a dangerous one. To maintain your composure, you tightly pressed your lips together and offered a slight bow of your head as a form of apology.

"It seems that our forces are insufficient to defeat them."

While your brother was speaking, he began to slowly circle around you, just like a hunter observing his prey.

“We need a different plan. We must catch them by surprise so that victory will ultimately be ours. Isn't that right, sister?''

One of your brother's hands grasped the end of your hair, which was falling down to your waist, and pulled it slightly, showing that he wanted to get an answer from you.

"Yes brother, you are right."

“A lot of blood has been shed because of this war between the clans. You don't want to let the blood of our dying brothers remain on the ground, do you?"

‘’No.’’

"Good, I'm glad we agree on that."

Your brother caressed your hair with fake affection. When his movement caused you to shiver more noticeably than before, you got angry at yourself for the weakness you showed and stifled your shiver by nibbling hard on the inside of your cheek. Your brother gave a sinister smile, showing that he was aware of the power he had over you and enjoyed it.

‘’You will gain that man's trust, (y/n). Any information you get there is worth gold to us. You can put an end to this war and take your place among us.''

Your brother released your hair, easily reappeared in front of you in two big strides, grabbing your chin and lifting you up to look at him.

"I know how much you desire this. Don't you want to finally be accepted? Moreover, if you complete this task, you will be remembered as a savior.”

You swallowed. Of course you wanted this very much, you had spent years working non-stop, going from one mission to another in order to be accepted. You were cruel to yourself, but your desire to be appreciated was so great that you often ignored your body's flags of rebellion for you to stop. And now, the opportunity you were looking for was presented to you.

Thanks to your talent, you would frequently execute your missions without detection, accomplishing them with flawless stealth and agility. You never found the need to talk your way out of trouble since you had never been caught.

Consequently, people began crafting nicknames for you, acknowledging your existence despite never seeing you. Ghost, Shadow, Nightmare, Specter, Wraith... Among them, your preferred alias was the Silence of the Night. It carried an air of elegance blended with danger, sounding almost poetic.

The more perfect you were at your duties, the less successful you were at impressing people. As someone with the blood of a noble family, you always made sure that your movements looked fluid like water, graceful and measured. However, most of the time, you would think that you couldn't do it right because you tried too hard for it and it looked like the exact opposite.

Despite your abilities being unknown to anyone in the clan, you remained invisible to them. As a result, you didn't have many people around you to talk to in your life. Over time, this led you to give up on trying to establish a dialogue with them, prompting you to retreat into your own shell.

“Put your worries aside,” your brother said, the corners of his lips turning down in distaste as if he heard your thoughts. "You carry our blood, it is not even possible for you to fail."

You swallowed once more. You wanted to succeed in this mission and prove yourself more than anything and anyone. However, this duty also conflicted with your own values. Yes, the Lin Kuei Clan was your enemy and you needed to deceive them for the future of your own clan.

Only then could you bring an end to this war and lead your clan to victory. For this, you simply had to gather enough information and create the right moment by taking advantage of the element of surprise.

But was this really what needed to be done?

Would you be able to do this?

‘'Men are generally simple creatures. Their thoughts often revolve around fighting and sex; complicating matters too much will only confuse them. The grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is no exception. Don't let his cold demeanor intimidate you. Utilize your femininity to captivate him, distract him, fill his mind with you. Refrain from expressing your opinions on any subject; instead, be silent and observant."

Your eyes filled with tears of despair as your eyebrows furrowed slightly. But you didn't spill them, you wouldn't give your brother this satisfaction, nor would you humiliate yourself in front of him.

“When you become his wife in a few months, your body will now belong to the grandmaster. Do whatever he wants. The more you satisfy him, the easier it will be for you to approach him and learn the order inside."

You knew you wouldn't deny what was said; you were merely a pawn in this war, with no right to voice objections. It was unheard of. Nonetheless, despite the looming marriage in two months, your brother's words induced a knot of tension in your stomach.

"Did you understand what I said, sister?"

You were able to say, "Yes." in a dry voice.

A sinister smile, reminiscent of a snake, appeared on your brother's face. He cupped your face with both hands and placed a small kiss on the top of your head, as if sealing the spoken words.

''Nice, very nice. Since we agreed, you can withdraw (y/n).”

Today

You stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do.

About half an hour ago, you were married to the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. The wedding was held in a simple ceremony attended by clan elders, family members, and high-ranking special warriors.

Even though the wedding dress fit like a glove, you felt like you were suffocating throughout the ceremony. It was as if your lungs did not fit into your chest; no matter how deep you breathed, it was never enough, preventing you from suppressing the growing tension inside you.

That's why you focused your gaze on one place, looking only in front of you, and tried not to lose control. You were a warrior; you shouldn't have been intimidated by a marriage. Moreover, it wasn't even a real marriage; it was just a significant step towards leading your clan to victory.

Still, despite all this, the weight of the task, its reality, and the obligation to meet expectations began to weigh on your shoulders with each passing minute, making itself felt more clearly.

During the ceremony, neither you looked at the grandmaster nor he looked at you. Both of your eyes were focused forward, both of your stances were upright, and there was a distinct gap between you, almost large enough for a person to fit in. It was obvious from every aspect that you were married out of necessity.

“I hope this union will end the ongoing hostility between the two clans. Now we are all a family under this roof; your happiness is our happiness, your sadness is our sadness, and your war is our war too.”

With the echoing voice of the clan elder, the trembling in your body increased even more. When the rings were brought to you in a fancy box to be worn, you turned your body towards the grandmaster, and this time you fixed your gaze on his chest, avoiding meeting his eyes directly.

Even in this situation, you felt small and cornered against the grandmaster's large body. You knew you could easily blend into the shadows and escape from there if you wanted; it would be effortless for someone of your skill. Unfortunately, running away was not an option for you as you had to hide your powers from them.

Your head could only reach the man's chest, and the cool air emanating from him had raised the tiny hair on your body. The danger signals emanating from every part of the grandmaster were clear as day; you could feel his dark aura and dominant nature to your core.

You raised your hand when the grandmaster, who was about to become your husband, reached out to put the ring on your finger. Your hand was shaking noticeably, just as you had feared. You hoped that he would think you were shivering because of the cold.

While shame turned your cheeks pink, you felt the grandmaster's gaze on you for the first time and, unable to help yourself, you stole a glance from behind your eyelashes.

When you directly met the grandmaster's eyes, at that moment your heart was filled with a strange feeling that you had never felt before, as if your heart had fallen into the void.

They were definitely the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen in your life. Dark brown eyes, with the gaze of a predator, were slightly slanted and framed by dark lashes. It reminded you of the snow leopard you encountered while wandering through the forest once, beautiful but also wild. He had a distinct danger that meant he could easily tear you to pieces if you got close to him.

The grandmaster's touch sent a shiver through you as he placed the ring on your finger, his dark eyes never leaving yours. It was as if you were jolted awake from a dream, and you quickly shifted your focus to your hand.

The silver wedding ring on your finger was plain, with a smooth surface that felt cool against your skin, and adorned with only a small, dark blue gemstone. After looking at the ring for a few more seconds, you moved to put it on the grandmaster's ring in the same way, and again the man's intense gaze never left you.

You didn't remember the rest of the ceremony, you were too nervous and stressed. You had no idea how you got to this room, all you remembered was the similar corridors and the cold seeping through the stone walls.

You told the two women who came to help you to take off your wedding dress that you wanted to be alone and asked them to leave the room, and you somehow managed to take off your wedding dress with numb fingers.

With your legs feeling like jelly, you open the suitcase left in the corner of the room, where your belongings are kept. Carefully, you take out the nightgown your brother had chosen for you, unfolding it with a sense of reluctance and uncertainty.

Examining the satin, black nightgown with its long, floor-sweeping skirt and deep slit, a wave of nausea washes over you. The front of the nightgown is once again crafted in a deep V-shape, mirroring the design of the slit, making you acutely aware that it could easily expose your breasts without any effort on your part.

As you slip into the nightgown, your growing nausea intensifies, and an unsettling sensation grips you – akin to being a gift meticulously prepared for presentation. The overwhelming feeling brings tears to your eyes, and your lower lip begins to tremble slightly.

Anticipating the upcoming moment, you frequently refrain from pondering how your first time will unfold. Coming from a noble family, voicing your opinions on marriage is a luxury you don't possess. It's a duty, an obligation shared by everyone in your family, a fate dictated by the needs of the clan's future.

Reflecting on your parents' union, you recognize that, for those of noble blood, marriage is more duty than choice. The realization has always been too daunting to confront. The notion of a stranger, someone you've never met, easily penetrating your privacy has consistently sparked fear, causing your heart to race and beads of cold sweat to form.

And now, you've reached a point where you can't run anymore.

With fingers numbed by tension, you delicately adorn yourself with jewelry left by your mother, seeking to conceal the scar that stretches along your throat. Each piece, though carrying a sense of protection, is recognized as nothing more than a fragile illusion.

When the last necklace settled down to stand in the middle of your chest, the question that you didn't want to think about but couldn't stop from appearing echoed in your mind.

Was he going to hurt you?

You were not oblivious to the whispers that circulated regarding the first night, and unfortunately, the majority of the gossip you caught wind of painted a rather grim picture.

Given your origin from the enemy clan, he has every justification to revel in your suffering. Under different circumstances, you would never hesitate to fight and defend yourself.

Your body, shaped by years of training, is acquainted with pain, and you've acquired the skill to endure it. Yet, despite your ability to suppress pain in your mind to a certain extent, it proves insufficient to pacify the fear welling up within you—a type of fear both raw and primal, an emotion you’re unfamiliar with.

Besides, you had no idea how to satisfy him. Your life was spent in rigorous training, tasks, and strict discipline. Moreover, being an outcast in your clan, you had never formed emotional connections with anyone, making you clueless about how to satisfy him.

Finally, you dabbed on a perfume with an intense scent that irritated your nose, applying it to your wrists and a bit on your neck. The overpowering smell of vanilla engulfed your senses, intensifying your nausea. Due to the stress you had been feeling since the morning, you could only manage to drink water, and the bitter taste of rising bile lingered because there was nothing to expel.

Not now. Not now. I can't throw up now, no. Please no.

While desperately trying to calm yourself down through self-assurance, the door of the room opened quietly, causing you to freeze in place. When Lin Kuei's grandmaster stepped into the room in all his glory, a cold breeze also entered with him.

You trembled like a leaf in the thin nightgown you were wearing. Maybe it was due to the tension you felt, you didn't know, but the grandmaster's large body made the room suddenly feel small.

‘‘What are you doing here?’’

The deepest sound you'll ever hear in your life echoed through the room. You swallowed; you were sure you hadn't done anything wrong, but the way the man was asking made you doubt yourself.

‘‘I was brought here,’’ you said in a soft voice. Compared to the turmoil inside, you were glad that your voice came out smoothly and clearly, without cracking. ‘’Did I do something wrong to make you angry?’’

‘‘I don't want you to be here.’’

As the grandmaster approached you with confident strides, you made an effort to project an air of composure, stifling the inner protests urging you to step back and maintaining a poised posture.

You didn't want him to think that you were afraid of him; it was too dangerous to put such power in his hands already.

Once the distance between you closed, you were able to look at him decently for the first time, having to tilt your head back a little to do so.

He was dressed in a traditional outfit of dark blue and black with the colors of his clan, and there was the clan's crest on a silver brooch attached to the left side of his chest. The grandmaster in these clothes looked more like the Chinese monarchs who passed through ancient times than a warrior in it.

His black hair was carefully gathered, and his complexion, pale enough to reflect the moonlight, framed a masculine face. With an arched nose, thin lips, and a jaw marked by strong lines, his features were striking.

Yet, what left the most significant impression and held your gaze was his eyes. Unblinking, dark orbs conveyed pronounced arrogance, a testament to his accustomed habit of looking down on others, coupled with a commanding power that compelled obedience. His dominant air shifted the room's atmosphere in an instant.

Normally, intimidation never came easily to you, a trait instilled by the harsh experiences your own family subjected you to. Your family, especially your demanding late father and your brother following in his footsteps, shaped your resilience. No one had the luxury of choosing their family, so you learned to keep your guard up and navigate around them.

Despite being a stranger, the man before you exhibited a fundamental difference that set him apart from the individuals in your family within seconds. Wordlessly, through his upright posture and tense shoulders, he conveyed a silent threat, one that lingers and continues to affect you.

‘’This is my room," stated the grandmaster. Although his voice was as quiet as the night itself, it resonated so deeply that it seemed to rumble in your ears. "The fact that we are married does not mean that we will share the same room. This marriage is no more than an alliance; you are my wife on paper, not in reality."

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond. This revelation caught you off guard, and as the temperature in the room dropped, you had no doubt that the grandmaster started to notice your trembling body.

In a whispering voice, you finally managed to ask, "But shouldn't we be fulfilling the binding of the marriage ceremony?"

"I can clearly see that you don't want to do this; you look as timid as a bird," remarked the man. One of his black eyebrows slightly lifted in a mocking manner. "I've heard that birds have heart attacks and die when they get too scared. Is that what happens when I touch you?’’

Despite the cold in the room, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a touch of anger at being perceived as weak. The man's words carried a sarcastic, arrogant tone that ignited a surge of anger within you.

You lifted your chin and looked directly into the eyes that were carefully watching your every move like a hawk. This action of yours was bold, perhaps even displaying a rudeness unbecoming of a noble woman, but in that moment, you didn't care.

‘’I am here to fulfill my duty.’’

"We've both just fulfilled what was expected of us already, little bird.’’

You frowned at the sarcastic nickname that came out of his cold voice.

‘’On paper, you are my wife, and I am your husband. We are no more than that. We won't be. If you want this alliance to be sustainable, don't take the ring off your finger, don't try to pry into my business, and keep your mouth shut as long as you're around me. I'm sure you're talented enough to do all of these things.’’

Without giving you a chance to answer, the grandmaster grabbed you by the arm and kind of dragged you after him towards the door, while the coldness emanating from his hand took your breath away.

‘‘Your own room is at the very end of this corridor, I'll call someone in a moment to bring your things.’’

When he closed the door in your face as he finished his words, you stayed where you were in shock. Not only were you kicked out like a little child, you were also insulted.

You stayed there, your rapidly beating pulse create a ringing in your ears, while your breath coming out of your lips created a thin smoke in front of you.

You had failed the first task you were expected to perform. You knew that when you had to report to your brother, he would ask you questions about tonight and wonder if you were successful in influencing him. If you tried to lie, he would catch it very easily. You've had enough time to ignore this concern for now, but you've fallen into a complete unknown about what you should do.

As you walked towards your room with silent steps, you also felt more humiliated than ever. You've never heard of a woman being kicked out of a room on her wedding night.

Marriage was a sacred bond, according to the belief the marriage would end the same way it began. You knew well how important it was to fulfill this, especially for those who care about old traditions, such as your own clan.

Despite the marriage being crafted for an alliance, even if it was merely a facade, both sides exchanged marriage vows. While the incomplete conclusion of the ceremony lessened your concerns about the first night, it now overwhelmed you with anxiety and humiliation that you couldn't fulfill it.

Tomorrow morning, when you emerged from another room, everyone in Lin Kuei would find out the truth. Was the grandmaster's reluctance to touch you solely due to your status as his enemy? Or perhaps, beyond that, did he harbor a dislike for your appearance? Maybe that's why he wanted you out of his sight as soon as possible.

‘’Why does it matter what he think?’’

You said to yourself. Crossing to your room, you closed the door behind you and sat down directly in front of the windows, which illuminated the room with moonlight, without bothering to look inside.

‘’It doesn't matter what he think about me, he is my enemy, and I am his. I need to figure out how I can get this resolved as quickly as possible, that's all.’’

While reassuring yourself, you nervously nibbled on your lower lip. The challenges ahead were proving to be far more demanding than anticipated, yet you hadn't found the courage to vocalize this realization.

[tobbotobbs]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request a Ghost x Male reader where reader isn't one to think of themself or their own needs, they are very self sacrificing. Reader has always hid the darker parts of them away from view projecting a strong, calm, sturdy person. Reader also wants to be Ghost rock give the man everything, but reader has been keeping secrets like the cause of the nightmares he has.

You can only be strong for so long before you crumble

Hey thank you so much for this precious request, I love it! Hope you like it!

Warnings: Talking about death, mentions of selfharm and suicide/suicidal thoughts, parental abuse (mentally and physically)

There were many times where the team of 141 could count blindly on on Y/n. He was their best friend, their loyal colleague, a good soldier and most importantly someoke the could always count on. It didn't matter what the problem was, Y/n was always ready to help or give some advice. They all took it for granted, it was by now a normal thing in the task force. Nobody wondered or asked if he needed some help or advice or just wanted to talk because Y/n always seemed so confident and strong. So sure about anything and everything in his life that everyone stopped the slightest doubt about him feeling alright whenever it started to bloom up their mind.

Of course there is no such thing as always feeling alright and never needing help. And Y/n knew that perfectly well. He was just a professional in hiding his feelings from the others, from anyone that wasn't his pillow in the middle of the night in his barracks. He felr like he wasn't allowed to feel such emotions. Back in his teenager days, his parents made perfectly clear that he wasn't to fuss about other emotions or feelings than confidence and that he rather keep his thoughts about how he felt to himself as to not bother anyone with his problems. Because that's what you do as a good person. You help others with their problems but you keep yours away from the surface to not seem selfish or mean.

It's been years since he really talked about how he felt with anyone other than his own mind in the small room on the base he called his home. Of course they need to talk to Price or Laswell regularly to check of they are still capable of doing their work but it's never personal and intensive talking. They won't check the roots of the problem or the reasons as why a soldier sometimes would go all quiet while eating at lunch or why they would spend their time alone in their room. And like said before, Y/n was very good at lying about his feelings and personal life. He also seemed to be doing so well that sometimes on missions when he would get hit he looked like he was actually totally fine even if he was hurting, all calm and reassuring. Soap and Gaz always wondered how he did it. How he hid it so well because when they got hit or hurt themself on small things they would be whining and breathing heavily and looking as if they're dying in that moment.

Y/n was strong, calm and confident. That chabges though when a specific skull mask wearing brit was in danger or would show some kind of hurting emotion. Then he was all gone. Ghost is on a building keeping his eyes on Soap through his rifle and not noticing the man trying to ambush him? Y/n would be standing behind them in mere seconds, slashing their throats before they can even reach his brit. Gaz and Price would be firing their guns while him and Soap were trying to get to Ghost who was shot on mission in the field? Suddenly he didn't care that was actually mortal and could die from bullets, his legs carried him through the gunfire and to his hurt lover who just had a grazing wound on his leg by getting shot.

One time, it was after a week long stealth mission, Ghost sat silently outside on the grass while looking up at the nearly complete black sky. Y/n had walked out of the building to take a quick smoke because the whole mission got on gis nerves pretty bad. He had to leave the mask wearing man behind for 2 days after getting ambushed. It was the worst time for him and now Ghost wouldn't look at him but when he fpund him outside he sat beside the lieutenant on the freshly cut grass. ,,Gho-" ,,Simon. Call me Simon", he had said to the h/c man. His voice uncommonly soft. In that night Simon had confessed to Y/n that he had felt scared for the first time on a mission after the h/c had to leave him on the field.

Y/n had felt so bad he swore to himself to never leave the others side again and always try to be there for him. It made him feel even more bad and selfish whenever he felt bad or got the nagging thoughts of telling someone how he felt, especially when he wantes to talk to Simon about how he felt. He felt so bad whenever that he tried to punish himself with doing more and more work for anyone of his team to convince himself he wasn't selfish and bad because he still did help others. This obviously did confuse Ghost a little sometimes when his lover got a sudden outburst of needing to help someone even if there wasn't anything he could do for someone because there was no need for help. But it wasn't that concerning because they all knew how Y/n was at times.

When the whole teams expectations changed on another mission, it was a very surprising and shocking moment for everyone. Y/n had been told to clear out a house in a city while the others did the same to a few other buildings. It had something to do with a cartel and it was just regular procedure for everyone. Walk in, clear every room, take informations with them, walk out and leave. Though when the h/c had entered the second room of the house, a bedroom of a teenager at the looks of all the band posters and school work stuff on the desk, his whole world came crashing down on him. There on the side on the floor next to the bed was a body. Nothing special, they had seen enough dead bodies in this job, but this was the lifeless body of a young girl, probably the owner of this bedroom. And she wasn't killed like other humans he had seen, no she had cuts along her wrists. It made Y/n stop in his tracks for a few seconds before he started to look around the room and go through the stuff on the desk.

It made him feel bad but he had to check everything to not miss anything. At a small little piece of paper that looked as if it has seen better days before, the sergeant stopped to take a closer look. It was very crinkled and had a lot of water damaging on it, probably from tears. When reading the text on it, it was soon clear this piece of paper should've been read by the parents rather than him. It was an apology for all the times this poor girl had failed them and selfishly only cared about her feelings and situation than the problems of others. Her guilt ate her up from the inside out and she couldn't take the disappointment of her parents anymore. She was sorry for only carung about herself instead of others. This all reminded him of himself when he was young. He had those thoughts as well- still has them at times. They weren't nice, they were terrifying and bad but he knew not to bother anyone about them. Just like this girl.

,,n?....Y/n? Y/n do you copy?!", the distraught voice of his boyfriend spoke through the radio. For a second he forgot they were on a mission. ,,Y-Yes! Yes copy. Sorry guys, been searching through this room", ,,Alright, Y/n I'm done with my building- I'll come over and help you", ,,Got it Ghost", their conversation was cut off and Y/n tried his best to keep his calmness. A few minutes later Simon was standing in the same room as him, being shocked at the sight in front of him but letting his emotions show not like his boyfriend. A quiet broken sob escaped Simon at the sight. This poor girl was so young- why would she do this? And why didn't her parents find her? Did she had the same bad parents like his dad? Simon's thought's were making him even sadder but the warm embrace of Y/n calmed that river of negative emotions. ,,It's alright love, I'm here. Let's get going and look for the missing information yeah?", they both went on with the mission, but this wouldn't be the last time one of them would think about this poor girl.

The chopper went down and Price turned it off. They were back in the base, it was getting dark outside already, everyone was tired from the mission which went surprisingly successful and everyone had been getting impatient on the flight back to the base. The second the soldiers got the okay from their captain to safely leave the aircraft, they were all gone. Gaz, Y/n and Price made their way to the kitchen, hungry after all those hours out on the field meanwhile Ghost went to the barracks to shower and Soap also went back to his room, but probably to fall asleep the second he hit his bed instead of showering or doing anything productive 'cause he was the most tired and exhausted out of them all today. Back in the kitchen, Y/n stood in front of the oven, waiting for their food to be done meanwhile Gaz took out some plates and forks for the three of them.

It was in the middle of the night, everyone finally went to sleep and get some rest, when Y/n woke up from a terrible dream. It wasn't really a nightmare mire like an old memory that his mind was replaying. He was 9 again, young and still happy and coming home from school with his math test. He got a good grade and he wanted to show his mother and see how proud she'd be of him for achieving this. When he got home his mother was angry with him. He should help her clean the house instead of wasting time with showing her some stupid test he achieved for once. When he started crying about how it was a good test and he tried really hard his mothers hand flew and struck him across the face. ,,Don't be so ungrateful and stop with the disrespectful behavior of yours!" She had screamed at him. It scared the shit out of the young boy and he really just wanted to get away from his own mother. Just like the teen girl did. Only that he wasn't as brave to go through with hus plan.

Y/n never noticed how his hands shook and how he made subtle hurt noises that woke his boyfriend up until Simon slowly sat up next to him and carefully put his arms around the shaking man. ,,Love is....are you alright? I've never seen you like...like this. Baby?", ,,Oh my- Simon just-just go back to sleep it's fine I don't know what happened- actually I'm feeling okay let's get back to-", ,,No, no you're not fine Y/n. You're crying and shaking what...was it the mission? It's because of that little girl isn't it? It's okay Love, I've been thinking about her as well I-", ,,It's....I'm not thinking of her....particularly. I was...I....she reminded me of me....I was dreaming of something that happened back when I was younger it....I'm sorry it's alright it doesn't matter. Are you okay though? You didn't tell me that it bothered you so much, the girl i mean!", ,,My love is....why are you trying so desperately to change the subject from your feelings to mine? I want to check on you and see if you are alright so why are you pushing me away?",

He thought for a second and was confused. Why did Simon want to kniw hiw he felt? That's selfish of him. Did the blonde man want him to be mean and selfish? They never talked about him so why now? Ot didn't make any sense maybe he just waited for Y/n ti finally snap and talk about his feelings just to have a reason to yell at him and call him a bad person...

,,Hey, I can basically hear your thoughts going a mile a minute baby. I care about you. We all do. And we all know that you don't really talk about yourself, which makes me worry because I know you're not alright sometimes but now I can see and I really want to make you feel better. I am worried about you Love", the blondes soft deep voice spoke into the darkness of them quiet room. ,,But...but that's selfish of me. I don't wanna be a bad person Si....talking about my feelings and thoughts makes me a bad person because I only care about myself and-" Y/n was stopped by two soft lips. His boyfriend couldn't hear the awful words coming out of Y/n's mouth so he put an end to it by kissing his love and showing him with the passionate force how much he cared and wanted to help him. He backed away, a small smile tugging on Simons lips as he spoke again. ,,Now please tell me what's bothering you my Love and let me, let us finally give something to you, let us help you yeah?"

Sorry it took me so long to post something! Was having a stressful week and again having another stressful one! Life sucks man, hope I get some free time pretty soon because I wanna try to write for something knew and I already got ideas kind of I just...need time for it!

See yall next time <3

[supercoolsuperqueer]

A NEW COURIER HAS ENTERED THE CHAT

HIS LORE IS EXTENSIVE

lore below cut (don't worry it's in bullet points) and fun facts below lore

TW: SA mention, abuse, kidnapping, Legion typical horrors

His journey began when he ran away to join a caravan at 15

The caravan was captured when he was 17 by the Legion and he was thankfully able to pass as a man

Was forced to fight and either die or become a recruit 4 months after being captured

Lost his eye and ear lobe in the fight, but managed to come out on top through strategy and agility

Worked under Vulpes, mainly doing information retrieval work

Vulpes found out that Leon was trans and threatened to tell if he didn't follow his every order

Vulpes would take his aggression out on Leon (this includes SA)

Leon eventually started taking on spy missions because of his intelligence and stealth skills

Leon was told to obtain and deliver the platinum chip back to Caesar as sort of a suicide mission because Vulpes got tired of him

He was not expected to succeed or come back

He, however, saw the chip mission as his ticket out

Ran into Benny in Goodsprings and got shot in his bad eye (easy target ig?)

Was saved and immediately panicked because his ticket out was gone

Vulpes started to suspect that he was still alive and deserted the Legion and sent assassins to "look" for him

Leon to find the chip and befriended (begged for help from) Boone

he said that the Legion was after him and didn't specify why

Boone took pity on him after Leon brought Jeannie May to justice

Leon talks about his past as much as Boone does, so they got along great

Leon arrived at the Luck 38 and swore his loyalty to House upon receiving a place to stay in the presidential suite (he really needed a home)

He then took his orders to get rid of Benny and retrieve the chip

House took a liking to Leon because of his obedience and employed him full time

Leon sees House as a father figure and House sees him as the protege Benny never was

Ok fun fact time

He's pre-T and hasn't had top surgery but still flies under the radar because he looks young and his chest is easy to hide (especially under legion armor)

He was given the name Leon and lost his last name when he became a Legion recruit

He can't remember his old name or last name anymore

Personally killed Vulpes at Hoover Dam with his old Legion machete

He was super pissed that Benny shot him in his bad eye, causing him to lose his brown eyepatch

Didn't get a new eyepatch until Mr. House gave him some money for a new one

Boone is his best friend 4 ever (maybe more...)

For his first week living in the Lucky 38, all he did was clean because he wasn't used to not having orders 24/7

Suffers from severe nightmares and sometimes ends up sleeping in the same bed as Boone or out in the penthouse by House's monitor

Found his fancy suit in the Lucky 38 presidential suite

It's too big and Mr. House says it's "tacky" but Leon doesn't care

One time he accidentally called Mr. House "dad"

Actually that happens a lot...

House doesn't say anything about it

After living living in the Lucky 38 for a while, Leon decided that his last name should be "House" after his boss-dad

Mr. House felt an emotion when told this information (omg family moment)

HE WILL HAVE MORE INFO SOON 😼

[welldonekhushi]

🌸 Tell me about your OC(s) - with pictures if you want !Pick some facts you want to share about them & let us gush about them together! Then send to other creators to do the same ✨

Arjun! And his Wife! Please? Wanted to know more about this wonderful couple!

(Even Scarlet if you want...if that's ok?)

Hey, Taro! I'd do for the beloved Marathi couple this time! Hope you like it ♡

KavyaArjun 🔪🌷

Arjun wishes if he'd retire soon and spend the rest of his life with her and their child.

Kavya on the other hand holds herself faithful that her husband would come back alive and on foot, and not wrapped in a flag. Her worst nightmare was losing the man she promised to spend the rest of her life with.

Arjun is protective of Kavya. You may think his wife is going out somewhere alone, Arjun wouldn't be there? Nah. He's literally a commando who has been through covert operations and stealth missions, and he'd use that ability to keep a check on her, respectively. It doesn't mean that Arjun doesn't trust Kavya, but to make sure everything's alright and on track, and nothing harmed Kavya in its way.

Kavya even after being a housewife, is also a part-time painter and she earns money by painting portraits of people. She even painted a portrait of Arjun in the army uniform, in this belief that when her husband would come back, she'd see him in this very look.

Some small angst? Moments back, Arjun grew more serious and responsible within himself when he got promoted to a Captain (and especially his behavior changed that day he lost Lakshya), it often created a small distance between their relationship, something which wasn't working out in between them.

So, with the help of his mother's advice, he started to do small acts of service, give her words of affirmation, and give gifts, that helped them create the closure they lost before and it also helped the Captain to regain his feelings back, helping Arjun overcome his strict nature to love Kavya like before.

[weirdbeancurd]

The Hunter Becomes the Hunted- ASTV Tickle Fic

I ground this whole thing out in like one day, i was bored ok

Michelle is just my OC who's a more laid-back version of Miguel from another universe. They have a sibling relationship and love bothering each other. :)

Summary: Miguel's working himself to death again and Michelle and Peter team up to make him take a break, even if it does mean taking desperate measures.

“Take a breeaaaaak.”

“No.”

“What he said.”

“No.”

Peter and Michelle had been trying to get Miguel to stop working for what seemed like days. In fact, he’s probably been in his office for 3 days straight, and if the bags below his eyes told them anything, he was awake for all 3 of them.

“Hey, this stuff can wait, you got some sleep to catch up on. A lot of it.” Michelle says.

“Yeah, you’ve been working on that stupid project for days. And now you’re stalking the kids? They can handle themselves, you know.” Peter remarks.

“I am not stalking anyone. I’m making sure those brats don’t get hurt.” Miguel pauses. “And I don’t need a break.”

“Sure you don’t Migs. And you also don’t got a multiversal stick up your ass.”

Miguel just rolls his eyes. Those two could be a nightmare to deal with, but there was no way in hell either of them would pull him away from his monitors now, not when the kids needed him. Not that he was worried about them, or anything. He was just being a good boss.

“Fine,” Michelle snarks, clapping her hands together. “We didn’t want it to come to this, but you leave us no choice.” 

Peter nodded solemnly, turning to speak to Michelle. “I’ll stay here. You just do your thing.”

“What are you even-”

“Lyla, night mode.”

The room went dark, the hum of the lights cutting out along with his sight. Now, Miguel had better night vision than most, but pitch black was still difficult to navigate. He squinted through the darkness, only to get about 10 feet of visibility. The room was so silent he could practically hear the rise and fall of his chest, feeling like a prey animal lost in the night. Fitting, as there was a predator lurking in the shadows. Miguel whipped around when he felt something disturb the air behind him. There was nothing there. At least not anymore. What are those idiots planning, he thinks.

“I don’t know what you two are getting at, but I have work to do. Lyla, turn the lights back on.” No response. “...Lyla?” Well, that’s not good.

An eerie skittering noise graced his ears, prompting another turn of the head. Again, he saw nothing. It was oddly reminiscent of the way he first met Michelle; his arrival in her universe was met with instant suspicion and aggression, causing her to circle him like a shark. The way she cloaked herself in shadows made her a great asset for stealth missions, but he certainly didn’t like being the subject of her pursuit. Despite this, Miguel knew she’d never hurt him, so he could only imagine how her enemies felt. How ironic. The hunter becomes the hunted. Sighing in exasperation, he slowly makes his way forward, hoping to find his monitor in the dark.

“You’re wasting your and my time. Now if you’ll stop fooling around, I-”

Thwip. The familiar noise of a web shooter going off made him flinch. He was stopped in his tracks by a web tacked on his foot to the floor. Before he could begrudgingly tug at his leg, Miguel was tackled to the ground by a conviving spiderwoman, tearing the web in the process. Aided by the element of surprise, Michelle wrestles him onto his back, restraining both his arms by hooking her own under his shoulders. Now of no use to him, the lights flicker back on.

“Gotcha,” Michelle grins.

“You sure did. Now let me up.”

Their conversation is interrupted by a low whistle, Peter coming back into view. He wears an amused smile with a hint of mischief that makes Miguel’s stomach drop. The man takes a seat on his thighs, fully pinning him to the ground. Whatever it is that they’ve got in stock for him, it isn’t good.

“Well, Migs. You’ve forced our hands,” Peter shakes his head. “This isn’t healthy and you know it, so you, Mister, are going to take a break, whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, sure,” He deadpans. “And how exactly do you plan on convincing me?”

“Oh Migs. That’s the best part. Remember this little weakness of yours?” Peter pokes him in the stomach, eliciting a yelp. Oh. Oh. Oh no. Now that got him squirming.

“And who knows your best spots better than, well, you? But, of course, you’d never tell us where you’re ticklish. That’s what she’s here for.” Peter gestures to Michelle, who waves back smugly.

“One of the perks of being the same person.” She wiggles her fingers in front of his face. A shudder goes down his spine. “Let’s get started, shall we? Peter, get his sides.”

Miguel chokes back a giggle when his fingers skitter across his waist. Laughter bubbles up in his throat, but is held back by him biting his lip. Despite his efforts, a couple noises still escape.

“Ngh! S-stop that- Peheter!”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. The big man is ticklish.”

“Yup, and this isn’t even that bad of a spot. Try his ribs next.”

“Dohon’t talk about me like I-I’m not heRE! Hehehey!”

That sure got his attention. The wiggling fingers attack between his sensitive ribs, making him chuckle. Miguel feels his face heat up, hiding it in the crook of his shoulder. His captors catch a glimpse of his fangs before they're gone once more. Michelle sniggers. 

“Trying to hide your fangs again? C’mon, let us see!” She adjusts her hold so that a single arm restrains both of his, using her free hand to tickle the side of his neck.

Miguel lets out a high pitched yelp that tugs at their heartstrings. He snaps his head against her hand, which does little to lessen the sensation. Just like she planned, Miguel’s fangs are on full display, peeking out of his wide smile. Peter coos at the adorable sight.

“Stahahap thahat!” He tries nipping at her fingers in desperation.

“Hey, no biting. Peter, get his stomach.”

“Aye, aye, maam.”

His hand forms a claw and vibrates into his belly, causing Miguel to screech and lurch forward, nearly headbutting Peter. 

“SHIT! PeheheHETER! STAHAHA-” He cuts himself off with a wheeze.

“Bad spot, huh?”

“Yep. Wanna see an even worse one?”

“Boy, do I!”

“MichehehELLE I SWEHEHEAR!”

“One word: thighs.”

“On it.”

He scoots back to settle on his knees before digging his fingers into Miguel's thighs with one hand, and skittering gently along them with the other. 

"MIERDAHAHAHA! PUHUHUTA MAHADRE!" He was slowly slipping into spanish.

"Language, Migs. What if the kids hear you?" Peter teases, grinning maniacally.

"Aww, pobrecito." Michelle coos. His thrashing was near frantic, nearly bucking the two off.

However, determined to help their friend take some time off work, Michelle and Peter hold strong, much to his annoyance. The contrasting sensations of rough squeezing and light scribbling were absolutely driving him up the wall, but he would not give in. Sure, it was a silly hill to die on, but it was the principle of the matter, dammit! 

"Ready to give in yet?"

"PIHIHISS OFF!"

Michelle and Peter shared a look before they drew back, still keeping their victim pinned. Miguel took the opportunity to gasp for air, a goofy smile stuck on his face.

"Stubborn, isn't he? You got anymore tricks up your sleeve, Mich?"

"Hmm. Just one. Watch."

"Wahaht are you-" Miguel watches in horror as her hand hovers above the crease between his thigh and hip. Shit.

"Wait, nonono. Not there-"

"Well, are you gonna go take a nap?"

"..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Hold tight, Peter. He's about to lose his freaking mind."

"Wait, Michelle, don't-"

Her fingers touched down and Miguel screamed. Her claws dragging against his skin felt unbearable, but his twisting and turning did nothing to deter her. 

"GAH! DOHOHOHO'NT! STAHAHAHA-" 

He could barely form words anymore. 

"Woah, you weren't kidding."

"Yeah, this spot's killer. You ready to take a break now, Migs? We can do this aaaaall day."

While normally he would've bared his fangs at them, the fight had been drained out of him. Miguel just whined through his cackling. His captors grinned at his wild reactions. It took a couple moments of uselessly babbling before he could even find his words.

"OKAHAHAYOKAYOKAY! NOHOW STAHAHAP!"

Michelle slows her scratching to let him speak.

"Alright. But you gotta say it."

"Mhmhmhm…nohoho…"

She swiped a claw over the spot.

"AH! Ohokayokay, fine! I'll take a break!"

Peter and Michelle loosen their grip on him and high five, finally satisfied. She keeps Miguel's head in her lap, ruffling his hair as he tries to wipe the grin off his reddened face. She takes her thumb to swipe away a couple unshed tears of mirth. He slings an arm over his eyes in embarrassment. 

"...Ihi hate you both."

"We love you too, Miguel," Peter says, patting him on the shoulder.

"So…who am I getting back first?" His smile suddenly turns vicious. 

Before Peter can get up to run, a web tacks him to the ground, halting his movement. When he looks up, Michelle is already gone. That little shit, he thinks, before he is tackled by Miguel and subsequently wrecked to the high heavens. 

2 hours later:

Michelle reenters the lab to find the two men nodding off on the couch. Peter looks relaxed as always, but Miguel appears to finally be at peace. The lines under his eyes aren't nearly as prevalent, and a single fang peeks out of his mouth cutely as he sleeps. Shaking her head fondly, Michelle turns away to let them get some well deserved rest. Or she would've, but a red web sticks her foot to the floor. Shit, she thinks. After the stunt she pulled earlier, Peter and Miguel show no mercy. After all, they know just where to tickle.

Reblogs and comments welcome :D

[scarecrow-in-a-hatake]

Leave locked in a chakra suppressing room with Guy & Lee during a Springtime of Youth speech, send to the Kamui dimension, overthrow, or assassinate?

Danzo, Onoki, Yagura Karatachi & Hanzo of the Salamander.

Very interesting lineup you've got there. Trying to get me in trouble, are you?

Tsuchikage-dono can visit Kamui so long as he agrees and can come back right afterwards. If not, he can have the speech. Gai and Lee are both very earnest. Shouldn't end too badly.

Alternatively, Danzo could have the speech, if I got to talk with Gai beforehand— you didn't say they couldn't do anything other than give their spiel, so. Two of Konoha's physically strongest, most loyal shinobi against a decrepit old man. What I wouldn't have given when I was younger to ████ ████ ███████ █████ ██ █ ██████████████████ ████ ███ █ ██████.

Overthrow Yondaime Mizukage-dono. I think Konoha might have been able to manage it in the months leading up to his death, anyways, although the chakra drain of casting and holding a genjutsu on a tailed beast with only one mangekyo sharingan might have put me out of commission for a long, long while. Or in the ground.

Purely theoretically in only the military and combative sense, of course. Getting approval from our daimyo to do so and then dealing with the fallout and annexation of Water would have been too large an ordeal and a political nightmare in reality, nevermind a breach of the terms of the peace treaty from the end of the Third War.

And assassinate Hanzo of the Salamander. Problem is that doing so would've been a suicide mission no matter if you tried stealth or on the battlefield. Shame that we never got to interrogate Pain on how exactly he pulled that one off, although I have my suspicions.

[ralith]

In my pokemon AU Ghost and Soap's teams would be:

(TW Child abuse mention)

Ghost-

Dusclops: his starter. Met when it was a Duskull when he sought shelter in a cemetery. He was running away from home as a child, nursing a bruised face after another beating from his father. Duskull usually enjoy tormenting children, but this one saw him suffering and tried to comfort him, brushing away tears and trying to cheer him up. It followed him home without his knowledge and upon seeing his homelike, decided to make his fathers life hell, tormenting him with visual and auditory hallucinations, tripping him and such. Ghost eventually became aware it was Duskull and further encouraged it. They bonded and he caught it secret using a dirty discarded pokeball he had found in the street. His father had forbid him from owning pokemon because he wanted to exert control over Simon.

Bisharp - Ghost loves knives. This pokemon is one big knife. Need I say more? This Bisharp is very aggressive and was difficult to raise, but Ghost trained it relentlessly and brought out its inate leadership qualities and taught it how to control its strength.

Furret - The sentry. Used for stealth missions and Recon. Very fluffy and can often be seen curled around Ghost's neck, his face buried in its fur as he sleeps. Soap had many pictures taken in secret because it's fuckin cute.

Decidueye - Night recon, stealth missions again. Arrows assist in long-distance takedowns. Loves head pats.

Polteageist - Ghost is Galarian. He loves ghosts and he loves tea. Great for slipping into enemies drinks and poisoning them.

Houndoom - Bones aesthetic. He loves it. The piercing howls at night scare his enemies shitless and this pokemon loves tearing through opponents with teeth and horns. Aggressive but also acts like a puppy to get belly rubs from Ghost. Loves going for walks with Soap's Arcanine.

Soap:

Ampharos - his starter was Mareep. He met it when he was a child in the fields surrounding his home. Would ride around on it when he was small and snuggle into its wool despite getting a static zap. Ampharos is very affectionate towards Ghost. Soap has come home numerous times late at night to find Simon hugging his Ampharos in his sleep, tail glowing to ward off nightmares.

Rhyperior - launches rocks from its palms. For a demolitions expert, this is the perfect pkmn for Soap.

Arcanine - very loyal to Soap. Agile and can quickly eliminate targets with its flames and teeth. Goes for walkies with Ghost's Houndoom.

Blastoise - water cannons. Enough said.

Sceptile- stealthy and agile, great for high speed takedowns. When working with Ghost during night recons, is the perfect compliment to Decidueye. Operates with close quarters combat while the owl covers him from a distance.

Rapidash - you ever see a Rapidash kill a man with its horn? This one has. Stomps escaping enemies to death. Beautiful and deadly. Soap will ride it through fields while shirtless because he knows the sight drives Ghost wild.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 48

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1689

Warnings: PTSD

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: None

Chapter Songs: Eyes Open Tell Your Heart To Beat Again

****

Bryn

The only times the youngest Kazansky had ever seen Annalise Winchester have a full-blown breakdown had been when her parents and sister died. Not even when she and Hangman broke up- either the first or the second time- did she react this way. Bryn had no doubt the breakdown had something to do in part with the traumatic experience she'd gone through with the mission, but still, seeing her best friend lose it after barely saying a word struck a chord with her.

"Talk to me, Ghost. What happened?" Bryn asked, refusing to let her go until Annalise pulled away herself. 

"It's everything," Ghost admitted, hiccupping.

"What made it boil over?"

"Rooster... he's been acting strangely ever since the mission. He won't look at me, he'll barely talk to me, and when he does, it's short and to the point, and so I thought he didn't want to be around me but-" Ghost pulled away and wiped her tears away angrily- "he is always choosing to stand beside me. We could be in the kitchen surrounded by people. I could be on the other side of the room, and he finagles his way over to me. I don't get it. I finally confronted him about it after Mav and Penny left, and all he said was that it isn't me, that he's not mad at me, but I know he is! What else could explain his behavior? And then add these God-awful, post-traumatic stress nightmares I'm having of being shot down and dying and coming back, not having anything to distract me from the grief of losing my mom and the fact that my dad might not actually be my dad and that Maverick might be my dad instead, I- I don't know what to do, where I should go..." Ghost continued her tangent, jumping between the topics so frequently that Bryn had difficulty keeping up with everything and understanding the totality of the situation, but she caught enough to understand the devastation Ghost was going through.

"Annalise, easy, take it easy," Bryn consoled, worrying how fast her friend had started breathing and concerned she might begin hyperventilating. "How long have you been holding all this in? From beginning to end?"

"Pretty much since I got here. It was just one thing after another, and I internalized it, pushed it down, or pushed people away, thinking it would solve my problems because that normally worked in the past, but it didn't this time, and Rooster being upset with me and not telling me why pushed me over the edge. I just want to go home, but I don't even know where that is now."

"Before all this happened, where was home for you?"

Ghost sniffled and turned her attention to the ocean, watching its waves crash gently on the shore. Bryn could see the gears turning in her friend's head. "It's changed over the years. When I was little, it was my family. In college, it was Hangman. When we broke up, it was Rooster. Even when Hangman and I got back together, Rooster was the person I went to. He's the one I thought about returning to, and even now, it is taking every ounce of willpower I have left not to go in there and beg him to tell me what I did so I can fix it because he's still my home, but I don't know what to do now that my home doesn't want me anymore..."

Bryn squeezed Ghost's hand. "I may not be able to bring your family back or help with the nightmares, and I don't know how I can help you figure out if Mav is your dad or not- which, for the record, I'm still trying to wrap my head around that and will demand a full explanation when you're not having a breakdown- but I can help with Rooster," Bryn declared, standing up. "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?!" Ghost asked worriedly.

"To chat with Rooster. I'll be back." Without another word, she flung the front door open with the full intent of knocking Bradley upside the head in hopes it might simultaneously also knock some sense into him. The light remained on in the kitchen, the only one in the house. Everything else remained eerily dark. Bryn scoffed until she saw a light emanating from underneath a shut door at the end of the hallway. The guest room. Rooster's room.

Bryn strode furiously toward it, not caring that he may not want to be bothered or even sleeping. She had a bone to pick with him. Swinging the door open, Bryn demanded, "Rooster, what in the absolute fuck is wrong with y-"

She stopped short, her anger swiftly replaced by confusion and concern. Rooster sat on the floor, slumped against his bed, head in hands, white-knuckling his hair. His crutches lay scattered haphazardly on the floor as if he'd let them fall wherever they wanted. Strangest of all, her friend acted wholly unfazed by her presence, like he hadn't even heard her. As upset as she was, Bryn recognized this wasn't normal behavior. So, calmly and slightly cautious, she knelt next to him. "Rooster?"

No response. 

"Bradley?" Bryn prodded, gingerly placing a hand on his arm. He reacted instantaneously, jerking violently away from her. When his eyes met hers, she noticed how bloodshot they were, along with the dried tear stains on his cheeks. He looked around dazedly, taking in his surroundings. Bryn scooted closer to him ."Bradley? You okay?"

"Wh- where's Ghost?" He stammered, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

"She's on the porch."

"Is she alive?"

What kind of question is that? "Yeah, she's alive."

Rooster's body visibly relaxed, and he braced his head against the bed, closing his eyes. "Good. That's… good."

A realization dawned on Bryn. She'd seen this behavior in others, and it was not something to take lightly. "Rooster, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How long have the flashbacks been going on?" She asked sympathetically, leaning against the bed with him. Although he didn't respond, his head snapping to look at her told Bryn she was on the right track. "Ghost told me about the mission and what happened."

"She- she was dying," Rooster croaked out. "I couldn't save her."

"But you did save her. She would've drowned had you not reached her when you did. Ghost told me as such. Is that what you see in your flashbacks? Ghost dying?" Once more, Rooster didn't respond, giving Bryn her answer. "Is that why you can't look at her? Is it a trigger?"

Rooster opened his mouth but quickly shut it. When he repeated the motion but never managed to say anything, Bryn reached out and took his hand in hers. "Oh, Rooster…

"I-I don't know what to do," he confessed. "I want nothing more than to be around her, but I promised I'd leave her alone and-"

"When did you promise that?"

"After I found her. She was furious at me for being there because she knew that-" Rooster trailed off, shaking his head. "I promised I'd leave her alone once we returned to North Island. She didn't acknowledge the comment, so I took it as her agreement with it. I thought it was what she wanted."

"Rooster, if that's what she wanted, Ghost wouldn't be sobbing over the fact that you will barely give her the time of day. She thinks she did something wrong, and until you tell her the truth, as difficult as it may be, no matter how much you tell her it's not her that's the problem, she won't believe you."

"Ghost is hurt enough, though. She's been through so much, and to add onto her plate by burdening her with my issues, I can't do that to her."

"She wouldn't see it like that," Bryn assured. "Hell, if anyone would understand what you're going through, it'd be her."

"I have loved Ghost for so many years, but every time I have the opportunity to be with her, I fuck it up. I don't- I can't cause her any more pain than I already have."

"The only way you'll cause her more pain is if you keep avoiding her. Be honest with her. I promise she will be open to it, but Ghost isn't going to reach out to you after earlier. You'll have to go to her."

"I know…" Rooster rubbed his face and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Bryn."

"For what?"

"I'm a grown man. I should be making my own decisions, not having to be encouraged by my best friend to do what I know needs to be done and having to deal with more of my shit."

"You're also dealing with some nasty PTSD."

Rooster nodded reluctantly. "I thought I was stronger than this. H-how did you know?"

"That you were having flashbacks? A good guess based on your behavior that I saw in both my dad and brother after they witnessed some deaths of their comrades." Bryn squeezed his hand. "I'm not going to push you to do this, but can I at least go tell Ghost that it really isn't her that's the problem?"

"No," Rooster said, shaking his head. He leaned over with a wince to grab his crutches. Recognizing he wanted to stand, Bryn helped him up. "I need to do that. I-I need to face this. Can I make one request?"

"Of course."

"Stay until this is over. If it goes badly, I want Ghost to have someone to turn to for support."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"If this goes badly, who will you have to turn to for support?"

"Don't worry about me."

"I already am, so it's a little late for that."

"Take care of Ghost first, then come to me if needed. I'll be back." He took a deep breath and then started for the door. Bryn let him go, watching and waiting until she heard the front door shut. Then, she headed to the living room to wait and pray that her friends finally worked things out for the better.

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina87 @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @copaceticwriter @rotating-obsessions @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @starshipfantasy @bennypears00 @avabobava @the-navistar-carol @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @carmellasworld @0hb0llocks @nicangelinee @summ3rlotus @3picklesinajar @magentamistress @the-other-hawkeye @elisha-chloe @emilymarie105 @persephone11110 @luckyladycreator2 @boogdleyboo @k0k3 @bibissparkles @lilmonstrjedi @stinkyrat09 @cocoag19 @suburbzchick @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goodstuff28 @georgiasimpson95 @horselovers2016 @tanithpriad125 @davidshawnsown @sowolfstudentme @agagafafa @callmemana @sec17 @brxklyn15 @h0ppy0the0sheep @tomanybandstolove @abigailannz @mini-bee-bee @super-btstrash-posts

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[teenagemutantninjatrauma]

I’m not saying I wanna make a How To Train Your Dragon tmnt2k3 au, but IF I DID.

I think Donnie should be Hiccup. I am so normal about that idea okay listen shush

He’s the inventor, he’s the pacifist, he is a frickin. Hiccup kinnie if I ever have seen one

No love interests, just 1) Leo being the stern leader everyone looks up to who has to constantly course correct his brothers, 2) Raph being a very hyped up warrior who eventually gets to ride a Monstrous Nightmare, and 3) Mikey being the first one to discover Donnie’s dragon and then pushing him to save said dragon

“But Trauma, you can’t make a httyd au post without telling us what kind of dragons each of them would have” boy am I glad you asked! I am not at all basing these on their weapons, they already get dragon forms based on their weapons, so I’m gonna get a little goofy with this

I think Leo would ride a Light Fury or whatever the white version is called. Great dragon for stealth missions and quick, deadly attacks, but a very graceful creature as well.

Raph would looove a Monstrous Nightmare - a dragon that can set itself on fire?? Badass! Needless to say he is a fire hazard but MAN does he look cool!

Mikey would either have a swarm of Terrible Terrors, a Night Fury, or a Zippleback. Something that on the surface level seems hard to handle but that he has a great time goofing around with.

With Donnie I’m indecisive, maybe he’d have a Stormcutter. Guy would be absolutely fascinated by a four-winged dragon, especially one so closely resembling a bat, and I think, having seen how easily gentle the dragon is, it would look after him :)

[asoulofatlantis]

Its so cute to see Estelle go over from the sibling zone to the realization that she has fallen in love zone. Its a nice and slow transition.

It looks like Joshua has given up here but can you blame him? Estelle had that really loud outburst in the hot spring that I am pretty sure Joshua heard, making it look like he was fooling himself believing that she could ever fall in love with him.

Plus, it is kind of funny to see the situation reversed now XD

But Sanktheim is boring!

How are we saved by the very same man that will be our demise eventually? Well almost our demise... but you get what I mean, right? I mean, he is from Ouroboros and all, but isn't it weid that he helps us? Why let us win this fight against whatever happens with Richard just to get Joshua in that awful position?

Oh hunny, you have no idea what this man is capable off. He can put you through hell with his lies... you and us and the whole Trails-Fandom, for that matter XD

Oh for the love of Aidios... Kloe! Please! Save us from him! If he becomes King of Liberl we are all doomed!

Seriously tho... Liberl would be part of Erebonia or Calvard by now if he would have taken over the throne ^^'

*achem* Excuse her. She is as clueless in seeing the value of Oliver hier, as she is in understanding Joshuas, let alone her own feelings.

So... I will do this the right way in her case: "OH GOD! *squeals in fangirlisch* ITS OLIVER!!! ♥" XD This is how we do it, Estelle!

Moving on...

Yeah... no... ^^' I don't think you are quite there just yet Olivert... XD

Where has that flirty attitude actually gone to? I can not remember him actually flirting with any girl in Calvard. Not seriously enough for me to remember at least. Did Killika actually reign him in somehow despite them not dating? Faszinating.

I do not know what to think about the fact that they force me to watch all those fights ^^'

Once again, that man has learned NOTHING under Cassius. As stupid as Olivert seems to be right now and as useless as his prince title as a bastard may look like, he is a force to be reckoned with and I am pretty sure Cassious would have noticed that immediately. So choosing Olivert also Klaudias future Husband to... uh... weaken her position or something is actually a pretty stupid Idea.

All that aside. Can you imagine Olivert and Kloe getting married? I mean... he would have made a fine King of Liberl and all... but they both would have been so unhappy in this marriage and Olivert would never be happy behind the chains of a crown on his head. So thank the goddess that this nightmare never came to fruiten and instead our dearly beloved debaucherous prince could marry the love of his life instead while Kloe... well Kloe... well at least she didn't get stuck in an unhappy marriage ^^'

You say that but... you have no idea of all the secrets this boy has.

URG! I hate stealth missions. I suck at them so darn badly!

Funny... for me it also feels like its been ages ago XD

The trick is to beat Loewe... uh... I mean the second Colonol *cough cough* as fast as you can. As soon as he is out and stays out, you are good to go.

Its not just that. Dorothy made photos she will very likely publish in an official paper. Olivert has no regard for his reputation OR his god damn safety ^^' Poor Mueller. He has it rough.

That is her, right? The one in that Liberl-Shop we found in Calvard, correct? My... there really are a lot of familiar faces in Kuro, aren't there?

This makes it even weirder that Joshua and Estelle are not among the returning characters in Kai. Thats wrong. Just absolutely wrong!

There is a bit of a hole in tha story. The empty seed would have been Oliverts, if he had attended so there should have been another chair for the Colonel. But everyone is wonder who the seat is for, even tho it made absolut sence that there was an empty seat and that they might have put the dishes there because I can imagine not every stuff-member could have been informed of Olivert not attending.

But... oh well...

[pred1059]

Runaway Wind Chapter Twenty Two

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Erxart had kept the information from Axel and Larxene in mind regarding the other keyblade wielders. After all, the Organization had a directive to ensure the Keyblade wielders do not come to harm, so it would behoove him to know who they were, as well as their companions. 

Yuffie Kisaragi, young ninja mercenary. Axel and Larxene did not seem to mind her too much, but you could never be too careful with someone dedicated to the art of stealth. As evidenced by her holding still her kunai at the ready.

The girl in white, blue, and green, Naminé. The girl who had escaped from Castle Oblivion and found power so close to the keyblade. For someone Larxene had described as “Helpless”, she seemed quite capable, staring him down with a blade and cards in hand.

Which left Ventus. 

The one who seemed to be the spitting image of Roxas. 

The one who called him by that same name as Aqua did in his dream.

The boy took a step back towards his companions, eyes wide and shaking his head,“N..not your name?” A moment later he blurted out, “What do you mean it’s not your name?!”

He had to admit, seeing someone so close to Roxas this distraught…

It hurt.

But Erxart knew who his friends were, so he did his best to stay calm and shake his head, “I mean you’ve got the wrong person. My name is Erxart.”

Naminé moved to the keyblade wielder. With a frown she asked warily, “Ven, are you really sure this is Terra?”

That same name from a dream…

No. Focus. He couldn’t get distracted again.

Yuffie shrugged with a nervous smile, “I mean, it’s been how long since you saw each other? He probably got a haircut at l—”

“No...no! There can’t be a mistake!” Ventus desperately pleaded as he walked towards him, a hand on his chest. “Terra, It’s me, Ven!” 

No, it wasn’t just him mishearing. He was using that same name. “Ven...“ Erxart furrowed his brow. His head began to ache. Like it was trying desperately to piece together...something! He winced as the pain began to grow

Ventus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small charm as he continued, “Don’t you remember our promise?”  Erxart tried to focus on the object, a star of silver and green, “Together with Aqua?”

And as he looked at it. There was an echo of a memory...down in the depths…

“Won’t be needing this anymore.”

Bloody hands. 

Pieces everywhere.

A black keyblade

“Now, to make two from one…”

PAIN.

“Well, isn’t this a reunion and a half!” Larxene’s voice interrupted the vivid flashes of whatever Erxart had been distracted by. Though surprise seemed to be Larxene’s strong suit. Case in point, her suddenly leaning on his shoulder as she continued,“Honestly, if Xemnas was here, it’d be really interesting!”

Though of the two, the comment got Erxart’s attention most as he spun and looked at her, “What? What does he have to do with any of this?” If there was any member of the Organization that had set Erxart on edge, it was Xemnas. Superior or not, he just didn’t want to interact with them more than he had to. 

Letting him go, Larxene tapped a finger to her cheek as she continued, “I mean...he does have your face Erxart. Just a bit different with the silver hair, yellow eyes.” 

No...it couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. He knew he had nightmares of a man going around with his face. Other than dreams and suspicion he had no real reason to distrust the nobody. He had been nothing but cordial in his management over the organization.

But no matter how much he tried to drown it out, some part of him didn’t want to trust a word Xemnas said.

Did Ventus know? Was that why his face grew pale? Why he began to shake and mutter?

“Hey, do you hear something?”

Yuffie’s observation was almost welcome. He needed to get back to the mission, though Larxene hardly seemed to be as welcoming, “Hear what? Listen if you’re trying to distract us…”

Naminé shook her head, “No...I hear it too.” Immediately the group quieted, though Larxene seemed almost annoyed at first. But soon a voice could be heard.

“...magic mirror,”

“Yeah, someone else is around for the mirror.” Ventus’ face became serious as he summoned his keyblade again. It was faint, but clear.

“...farthest space,”

“Sounds like it’s coming from this way?” The three began to head towards the window at Yuffie’s suggestion. Erxart took a step to follow, but Larxene held him back.

Smirking at his questioning look she explained, “Let the heroes do their thing. If that’s Maleficent down there, why not let them do all the hard work?” 

“Through...and darkness...summon thee.”

The voice rose to a crescendo, and it was unmistakable from outside the window as Ventus pointed her out. “There!”

“Speak! Let me see thy face!”

It was the voice of the witch that used him like a puppet to take hearts. And there was no way he was going to let her walk away with anything today. “I want to fight because I want to make things right.” Larxene seemed baffled at his words and let go of his shoulder. Seeing his chance Erxart charged forward, keyblade in hand.

There was no way he could hesitate any more.

Ven couldn’t wait, he had to think of something! Terra showing up had thrown him off, and now Maleficent had managed to snag the mirror while everyone was distracted. A dark portal? Her magic? The how didn’t matter, but what did was that down below the tower was the magic mirror they were searching for. As Maleficent finished the incantation the object spoke, “What wouldst thou know, mistress of all evil?”

“No! Don’t tell her anything!” Ven began to try and bash away some of the bars, hoping that one of them might have come loose in the fight. He had to do everything to stop—

“Stand aside!”

That was the only warning he got from Terra. Looking behind, he saw his friend cloaked in darkness itself, with a keyblade so mangled and corrupted…

“What do you mean about Terra being a different person?”

“Exactly what I said idiot. The Terra you know will be gone forever.”

All of a sudden, Vanitas’ words didn’t sound so stupid anymore.

“Ven, Move!” 

Naminé’s hand pulled him away from the window. Just in time to see Terra, wreathed in shadow, crashing through the window. To the courtyard below.

He could only stare and listen to the sound of the beginning fight outside. Did...did he really not know anything? Was he wrong about Terra? Their friendship?

Larxene hardly seemed to care as she laughed, “Well. I better make sure our friend doesn’t get too hurt.” 

With that taunt, she vanished into a dark portal. Ven could only call out after her, “Wait! Stop!” But she was gone before he knew it.  He dropped to his knees, numb from everything. Just when he thought he knew what he needed to do he was lost again. “Terra...I...I couldn’t…” He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t keep his promise. 

But then a hand on his shoulder brought him to his senses. “Ven, we’ll figure something out.” Naminé smiled and helped him to his feet. Oddly enough, just listening to her helped to soothe him

By now sounds of a fight had already begun to fill the courtyard. Yuffie turned to jump out the window, “Listen, we can talk later, but right now we’ve got to go stop—”

“You.”

Then everyone stopped and turned at the sound of Ven’s voice. A much colder version of Ven’s voice. In the doorway stood his doppelganger in the organization, eyes focused on his counterpart. Raising a keyblade toward Ventus, the boy in black demanded, “Who are you?”

Summoning his weapon as Naminé and Yuffie readied up beside him, “I’m just Ventus. Who are you?” Not much point in giving his nickname to someone he had a feeling he wouldn’t be friends with.

“My name is Roxas,” he advanced, keyblade still in hand. Still staring daggers at Ventus as he growled out, “Why do you have my face?”

“Now that’s a real good question I’d love to hear the answer to,” Axel’s voice preceded him striding into the room. As the trio backed up to the wall, the members of the Organization advanced. Axel demanding, “Well? We’re waiting, Ven.”

“I don’t know! The only guess I have…” Ventus tried to calm his nerves. Keep Axel from getting to him with a friendship that had come apart. At the very least, he had to make sure the worst hadn’t come to pass. So he asked, “Have you ever heard of a man called Xehanort?”

Roxas raised an eyebrow as he heard the name, “Xehanort? First time I’ve heard of that.” As Axel similarly shook his head, Ven let out a breath. At least Terra and Aqua were able to stop him. But then another question came, “What are you after?”

And at that point, Ventus had enough of having the conversation controlled by his enemies. Vanitas and Xehanort did it time and time again when he confronted them. Right now, he felt like he’d given enough information. He stood his ground as the two Organization members advanced, “Why should we tell you?!

Axel just waved a hand casually, “Tell us, don’t tell us, doesn’t matter, really.” In a flash of flame, his weapons appeared as he smirked, “We’re just here for Maleficent.”

Yuffie scoffed at the answer, gripping the large shuriken on her back, “Yeah right. We’re the ones trying to stop Maleficent.”

But at that, Roxas stopped.“Wait…” His brow furrowed in confusion as he lowered his weapon. “If you’re just here to stop her then why are we being so secretive?” He stepped forward and offered a hand, “Shouldn’t we work together?”

Ventus looked at Roxas’ hand. A chance to not have another enemy? To maybe find a way to bring Lea back from what he’d become?

But he couldn’t.

Not after what the Organization did. What they wanted to do.

“No…”

Of course, if he was going to be beaten to that answer, Naminé had the most right to do so.  

Axel chuckled, and scratched the back of his head, “You know...when someone’s offering help—.”

Her sword was shaking as she held it in her hand, “No! The Organization tortured me to make me work for them! I’ll never work for them again!”

“Not to mention they wanted to mess up a friend of mine just to make him a weapon!” Yuffie now her fuuma shuriken ready to lob at the two Organization members, “So yeah!”

“There’s no way we’re working together! Not after what they did to my friends!” Ventus took a step forward with his keyblade toward a retreating Roxas.

But then he stopped, as he realized the expression on Roxas’ face wasn’t just shock, it was horror. He shook his head at the accusations, “No...The...the Organization wouldn’t do something like that! Right Axel?!” He turned to his friend, only to find him strangely silent, “...Axel?”

And even stranger, Axel had no smirk, no quip. Just desperate attempts to explain, “I mean...Sometimes we needed to do a bit of dirty work. An icky job here or there. Not all the time but…”

But as Axel went on, Roxas retreated further away from him.

If someone only did evil because that was all they were taught, or they didn’t know better...

Shouldn’t they have the chance to change?

So Ven slowly offered his free hand, “Roxas, Come with us. You don’t need to stay with the Organization.”

“Roxas, don’t listen to them!” Axel moved between Roxas and the three. Flames gathered around his weapon as he spoke, “We’re Nobodies, remember? There’s no place for us in these worlds!”

Naminé shook her head, “I’ve met people outside the organization and told them what I am. They’re more understanding than you think.” Her eyes were on Roxas as she pleaded, “I believe there might be a place for Nobodies in the world.”

Roxas was silent, lips tight as he heard everything. But eventually, he shook his head, “I can’t.” 

Yuffie was flabbergasted, sputtering out “Why not?! You clearly aren’t happy with what these guys are doing!”

Roxas frowned, as he looked down to the ground, shaking his head,“My friends...I can’t leave my friends. Erxart or Axel.”

For a moment, the flames stopped as Axel looked back in surprise, “...Roxas. You still…?”

But before anyone could speak further, a column of shadows erupted from outside the window. For a moment, everyone was silent as a loud cackling filled the air. Ventus realized he had gotten so caught up in talking to Roxas, he’d forgotten about Maleficent. 

A few moments after the shadows vanished, he saw something hurtling toward the tower from the ground. “Look out!” Just in time, everyone managed to avoid the body of Erxart as he tumbled in through the hole in the tower.Then the tower shook, the sound of rock being crushed audible. And as the shaking grew worse, the massive claw of a black beast gripped the bottom of the hole in the tower. Just as soon, a dragon’s head with green eyes, mouth filled with vermillion flames barged through the castle wall. And the creature bellowed with Maleficent’s voice, “IF YOU KEEP ME FROM THE BLADE I SEEK, THEN YOU WILL BE CRUSHED BY THE MISTRESS OF ALL EVIL!”

[brittanyslibrary]

Liar ✦ Shota Aizawa (part two)

part one

Summary: How could he be so relieved at her return, yet so angry at the same time?

How were they supposed to move forward when everything seemed so broken?

“You’re a real hero, Electra!”

“What would we have done if you didn’t take them down?”

“We are forever in your debt!”

She wanted them to shut up, she wanted them to leave her alone with the swirling thoughts that plagued her every waking moment.

Yes, she had completed her mission, but at what cost? Her sanity? Her friends? Shota?

She nodded stiffly, still opting to stay silent. She hadn’t said a word since she revealed herself as an undercover pro hero to her “comrades” and had the words “traitor” spat in her face more times than she could count.

Her heart raced as one of the nurses announced that she would finally be able to have visitors.

Though, she was thoroughly shocked when Hizashi was the first one to step into the room.

Without his gleaming grin or booming voice, the man looked so out of place. He stood rigidly in the doorway, until she nodded for him to come in.

“I know I’m not who you expected to show up first, but..” the words died on his lips when he noticed the tired acceptance on her face.

“I knew what was going to happen when I accepted this mission, and I knowingly broke his heart. I expected him to be angry, it’s alright” she sent him a weak smile, one he saw right through.

“Fuck,” he spoke her name gently. “everything has been in shambles since you left. I can’t even tell you the state U.A is in. And Shota....I, just, why? Why did you have to be the one to do this? What made you decide faking your death and not telling any of us was the best course of action?”

The bite to his words stung like a slap to the face, but she had expected this as well. They were shocked, they were angry, they were confused.

How could she blame them? After everything she had put them through.

“My quirk was best suited for this, as well as my background with stealth operations. If it wasn’t me that took on this mission, it’s success rate would have dropped drastically” she droned on with no inflection or passion in her words.

She sounded like a damn robot, like the emotions she’d always seemed to display had been sucked out of her.

“Did you even think about us? I’m your friend, so is Midnight and All Might and...and class 1-A? They’re so different, now. Muted, like the life has just been snatched from them”

She asked him to stop.

“Shota...it’s like he’s dying. It’s like when I lost you, I lost him too. He drinks and he teaches but he’s not even there! It’s like a fucking clone took his place or something. He’s more cold and bitter and the nights that he gets so drunk he can barely stand all he does is ask why he wasn’t there to save you. He blames himself for all of it, he doesn’t even sleep anymore, he barely eats. God, he’s my best friend and I don’t even know him anymore and you...you took everything from him when you decided to leave us all behind for-“

“I said that’s enough!” Her voice cracked, hoarse from all that time of not using it. “It was your reactions that made it believable. These thugs knew exactly who Eraserhead was, they were taking all these extra precautions to kill him when he would inevitably be swept up in their plans. The only thing to make them let their guard down was my death, because they thought they’d gotten rid of two birds with one stone. Without me, Eraserhead wouldn’t be on his best game, and they could afford to get sloppy. That was my time to strike”

The reasoning was solid, but as the tears fell freely from her eyes and her shoulders shook with tiny sobs, she knew she would never be able to make this up to them, to anyone.

Hizashi looked away, staring at the blue curtains separating them from the waiting area.

“I don’t know if Shota’s coming or not....but know that he loves you, that he is so relieved that you’re alive but so fucking hurt that you lied to him, to all of us. Don’t question how he feels about you just because he needs time” Hizashi stood, sparing her broken body one last glance.

“I won’t,” she whispered as he passed the threshold, the curtain swaying gently behind him.

It was hours later, after the news outlets had been shooed away and class 1-A had taken the time to stop in and express their gratitude that she was okay and their hope for her return in the classroom, that she finally saw him.

He sauntered into the room with all that grace, but he was off. The usual burnt out appearance seemed too..artificial. As if he’d been trying to come off that way to ward off any sympathetic stares.

To anyone who didn’t know him, he looked like regular, exhausted Eraserhead.

But those eyes, the way they regarded her with nothing but pain, that was her cue to what was really going on.

Her chest ached, she wasn’t sure if it was because of the pain he felt or the fact that it had been months since she’d seen the love of her life, but it ached.

“Hi..” her voice came to be barely above a whisper, and he averted his gaze.

His fists clenched, knuckles turning white and eyes falling closed. He lingered in the doorway, where she’d finally been moved to her own room.

They wanted to send her home tomorrow, but she wasn’t sure she had a home anymore.

“Shota, please look at me” her voice cracked, this time from the tears that already blurred her vision. “I haven’t seen you in months...I just want you to look at me” she pleaded.

Moments of silence passed between them before he sucked in a deep breath.

“How can I?” he simply asked in a low rumble.

Before she could ask him what he meant, or to elaborate, he was speaking again. The edge to his voice got sharper and sharper as he spoke.

“I’ve been wondering, since I saw you on the television this morning, why you would ever accept a mission like this” his arms were folded behind his back as he paced back and forth, like a caged lion.

“I thought you surely must have been blackmailed into it. Or, perhaps there was no room for you to argue as you were being pressured by the police to take on such a daunting mission. So, tell me, were you forced into it? Did you feel like you didn’t have a choice?” the condescending tone was one not usually used on her, making it all the more intimidating.

“Shota, let me explain. It’s not like that-“

“Yes or no?” he demanded.

“No, I wasn’t forced into it. I had a choice, and I chose this mission but-“ once again, she was interrupted by a mirthless laugh.

“So you chose to lie to me? You chose to hurt me? To break me? That’s what you’re saying?” he sneered.

“No! I would never! I love you!” she insisted.

“But you did!” he exclaimed, turning on her. “You lied to me! You betrayed me. Not to mention you betrayed everyone who ever cared about you” he spat.

“You of anyone should understand why I did this! Innocent people were going to die, Shota. I was the best fitted for this mission and if it hadn’t been me then who knows if it would have been successful?” she attempted to defend herself, to make him see this was never about hurting anybody.

“That’s fine, that’s what I loved about you. You save people without a moment’s hesitation, never caring about the affects it will have on you. But this wasn’t just on you this time. You could have told me, warned me at least. Fuck, I thought...I thought I lost yet another person I loved and...” he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to stop tears.

Still, his words echoed in her head like a mantra. What he’d said, what he’d insinuated.

“Loved?” she questioned, fear gripping her in its icy cold fingers.

His silence remained, still unwilling to look at her.

“You don’t love me anymore?” her voice had morphed into a pathetic whine while tears tracked down her cheeks. The heart monitors she was hooked up to mirrored her rapidly beating heart.

His tired eyes found hers, but they were damn near empty.

“I loved a woman who supposedly died three months ago saving a family of four from a burning building that collapsed on her” he fixed her with an even glare.

Then, he left, and took a piece of her with him.

She was discharged the next day, heart in her throat at the thought of having to ask Shota if she were still welcome at home.

Thankfully, Principal Nezu had an extra dorm open and offered it to her for the next few days, as he was well aware of the situation between herself and Aizawa.

He was still his chipper old self as he steered her to the empty dorm room. It was two buildings away from class 1-A’s dorms, she noted to herself.

In case she wanted to attempt to see him, but she doubted he’d even let her in the front door.

After lingering for a few extra moments, Nezu nudged her calf to gain her attention. When her eyes met his, stopping at the thick scar over his right eye, she could see a sentimental smile on his face.

“Your performance was so believable that even I had no idea you were still alive,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “But, for what it’s worth, I’m so glad you’re back. I’m sure Shota will come to his senses soon enough” he nodded assuringly.

She swiped a stray tear that had fallen and thanked the Principal once again for his graciousness.

That night her sleep was plagued by nightmare after nightmare, not only from her experiences undercover, but one Shota Aizawa who would never end up forgiving her and would eventually move on with someone else.

Someone who wouldn’t lie to him.

“Shota...it’s me,” her voice was shaky over the voicemail he had argued with himself for twenty minutes straight to listen to.

He could barely hear the sound of the fan she must have been using to lull her to sleep in the background, and he would have smiled if he could muster it.

Even when it was freezing, she still needed that damned fan.

“Um, I know I have no right to ask this of you...at all, but could you pretend to love me? Maybe just for tonight?” she sniffled, and he could hear the sound of rustling sheets.

“I just really need someone right now-“ her voice broke, but she charged on. “I keep dreaming about them, and about you and-and I just need someone to hold me if only until I can fall back asleep. I don’t know what else to do and I feel so alone right now...”

The broken, tiny sobs he heard yanked at his heart strings painfully. There was nothing he wanted to do more than hold her, or just be near her.

He’d missed her so damn much, and it was getting harder and harder to stay away from her. Then, he would remember how she lied to him, knowing how it would hurt him, and did it anyway.

“I know you probably felt alone, too, when I did what I did. Shota, please know how much it killed me to do it. I didn’t want to, but it’s my duty as a hero to protect those who can’t protect themselves. As much as I hated lying to you, I....I can’t regret it”

No, he wouldn’t expect her to regret it. She’d saved hundreds of lives that day.

. He asked himself, then, if he would have done the same thing. He wanted to think that he would have warned her, allowed her to be in on the facade so she wouldn’t worry.

But what if the circumstances forbade it? What if her knowing affected the mission to the point that it was necessary she be kept in the dark?

Would he still accept it, knowing if he didn’t, people would die?

In his gut, he knew the answer to that question.

He grabbed his jacket off the hook beside the door and began his short trek in the chilly night air.

A delicate knock on her dorm door caused her heart to race and ears to perk up slightly. Was she hallucinating, or had she truly heard a knock?

It resounded again, a little louder this time. She crept toward the door, the floor creaking beneath her bare feet. Her hand hovered above the door handle, obscenely hopeful.

She could barely make out his form through her blurred vision, tears weighing heavily on her waterline, but she knew it was him.

He smelled like that cologne she’d pestered him to get when they first started dating.

“You came..” she whimpered, which prompted her to reach a trembling hand to cover her mouth.

He stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him. The gentle click of the latch felt like it was the loudest sound to invade her ears.

He was standing directly in front of her now, hands frozen in mid air, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed with her. The back of his throat burned, eyes glossy as he watched her fall apart.

She waited for him to make the first move.

Just when she thought he wouldn’t, he roughly pulled her against his chest in a strong embrace. His face fell into the crook of her neck while her shoulders shook with relieved sobs.

He gently rocked them to an imaginary rhythm as they remained standing by the door. She was far too distracted by Shota’s presence to be worried about where they stood in the dorm room.

“I..I thought-“ her voice shook through another sob. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore” she nearly lost her breath with the force that she was heaving her sobs out.

Shota cursed himself for saying such a damaging thing out of anger, out of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into her neck, the strain in his tone muffled by her skin. “I don’t even know why I fucking said that..”

For hours, the reunited couple held each other in the dim light of the television screen, by the front door of her temporary dorm room. The last few months would never be forgotten, both of them knew as much.

But as they climbed into their shared bed that night, slipping under the covers and relishing in the nearness of the other, it was evident that this was worth fixing.

They were worth fixing….