#yes he WILL be getting a leather jacket and spiked collar. and piercings. and the chains.

[hallowforest]

i am unstoppable. [ immediately starts making another creechur now that my little deer is done ] y'all get a starting progress pic AND the thing it's based off of this time :)

[heavenfordoms]

”Innocent“ Hug (Deku x fem! Reader):

Pairing(s): Deku x reader

Warning(s): 18+ minors DNI, cussing, manga spoilers, riding, death, semi-public sex, eating out

Genera: angst to fluff to smut

A/N: wait this was actually fun and easy to write for me wtf

Fandom: My hero academia (boku no hero academia)

Glossary:

Y/n = your name

Summery: Bakugou looses his life in battle and y/n goes to comfort Deku, soon Deku ends up forgetting about Bakugou as y/n rides him

You sucked in a breath, holding it for a while as you stared at the villain in front of you. You where crouched down low so you knew that he couldn’t see you. But you sure saw him. Your quirk was called memory, you could memorize anything that you wanted. The downside to this quirk is that while your mind was full of knowledge your body was weak so it was no good for battle-training, another bad thing (or more annoying then anything) is that we can’t forget it, ever, even if you wanted to. You remember every single detail of your life and every single thing that has happened to this point in grave detail. Not like you wanted to remember it, but you felt so worthless that it was almost blood to memorize everything. Like how there where five street lamps outside the bar. They where dimly lit and flickered every five second, each one after the other. The one on the very right was the first to flicker then it would go all the way to the left. Sometimes the one in the very middle would shut off at random times as the other lamps brightly shone in the night-sky.

“Could you stop mumbling?!” Katsuki whisper-yelled at you. You slightly cringed at the blonde male’s words before nodding your head in a form of acceptance (for some reason people saw that as acceptance so you did as well).

Katsuki is a young man of average height for somebody his age, with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He has short, spiky, ash-blond hair with choppy bangs that hang over his eyebrows. His eyes are sharp and bright red in color. His hero costume is composed of a tight, black, sleeveless tank top, with an orange "X" across the middle, forming a v-neck. There are two dots along the left line of his collar, indicating the support company that designed his costume. His costume also has a metallic neck brace worn with rectangular ends that have three holes on each side. His sleeves reach from within his large grenade-like gauntlets to his biceps. His belt, which also carries grenades, holds up his baggy pants with knee guards, below which he sports black, knee-high combat boots with orange soles and eyelets. His mask is jagged and black, and as it goes around his eyes, a large, orange-rimmed flare shape protrudes from each side.

You focused your eyes off of Kastsuki and onto Dabi, the villain who was standing guard outside the bar. Dabi is a fairly tall, pale young man of a slim, somewhat-lanky build, described to be in his early twenties. He has white hair with a few red streaks at the crown that spikes upward around his head, hanging low over his eyes, which are thin, turquoise in color, and heavily lidded. Before the reveal of his true identity, his hair was dyed black. His most striking features are undoubtedly the patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that cover much of his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs due to him having a quirk at a early age and not knowing how to control it. These appear to be attached to the rest of his skin by multiple, crude surgical staples or hoop piercings. He has several silver cartilage piercings in both ears, and a triple nostril piercing on the right side of his nose. He also seems to be lacking earlobes on both sides of his ears upon close inspection, he wears a dark blue jacket with a high, ripped collar, and matching pants, cut off above his ankles, a pair of dark dress shoes on his feet. He also has a plain pale gray, scoop-neck shirt, below which a gray belt with a circular pattern wraps around his waist, a leather satchel attached at the back.

Nobody knew his real name, until now, Dabi had revealed himself as Touya Todoroki. Everyone now calls him Touya but it never settled right in your gut to call him that. His name was Dabi to you and it will always be Dabi. It didn’t matter if he did a big entry and say that he is part of the Todoroki’s Dabi didn’t seem like them. The Todoroki’s where a strict family with ruled set in place. Endeavor, now the number one hero, had tried to welcome his family with more open arms. You could tell that Dabi’s opening was not out of grief for his family but instead out of spite. Like saying to Endeavor that he needs to take a chill pill with this whole anime redemption arc thing that he has going on for himself (and you didn’t quiet disagree with the oriole scarred man either).

You often thought of life like a anime, it was easier to explain. If somebodies life was broken they just ended up in the wrong anime. It also helped reminded you that every villain has a backstory. You never got to see their perspective in things. You never got to see what happened to the villains after they got defeated. Nope. You never got to see that, maybe if people saw the villain’s side. Everyone would hate the hero‘s and build their own path just as villains do. They make a path that no one has ever gone on, slowly making it a dirt road and them turning it again into an actual road that everyone can go on. Villains never got the roadwork. Hero’s probably always destroy it.

“So what’s the plan?” You leaned in close to Katsuki and whispered in his ear, Kastuki tensed up next to you and sucked in a breath before looking at you through pointy eyes.

”I will distract scar-man while you go and get Deku from the bar.” Kastuki explained, you nodded your head ‘yes’ before you pointing in the direction you where going to go. Kastuki grunted to himself as he crawled slowly in the opposite direction. Sending explosion at Dabi’s face before ducking behind a large wooden tool-box that had the words ”Back Bend Inc” on it in Ariel black font. Although it had been there for so long that the black ink looked to be a dark smoky gray. You quietly padded off into the opposite direction, your head ducked and eyes darting every five seconds to catch every detail around you.

Silently, you slipped into the bar. There was a wooden plank that held up the first stand, it looked to be pretty normal from here. There was dark wine stands that had a light brown color to them. The walls where colored with a sand tan. Over by the bar there was stacks and stacks of different liquor that people could have. Above was the general black chalkboard menu, there was smeared blue chalk that said “SPECIAL: Burbon” the strong smell of liquor and whisky hung in the air. There was a cigarette hanging off the ledge, still lit and everything. It looked pretty normal, but there was a slight piece of the cigarette where it was unwrapped and that told you enough to not say ’fuck it’ and have a smoke break. Turning your head slowly you walked up to Kurogiri. Information began flooding in your head about the villains and the bar. Unluckily for you everyone noticed the smartness you had and quickly found out your quirk. They began to flood your Brian with information. Information that a kid didn’t want to hear. You heard everything when you where just in High School. Now, everyone hated your quirk, everyone fucking hated it. The people who raised you said that you where a monster and that they didn’t know you anymore. But the sad part was you didnt do anything wrong. After hours of racking through your mind you couldn’t find a single moment where you did something bad. “I need to see Tomura.” You stared blankly at the mist villain. Kurogiri's entire body is made out of a dark purple mist, save for his eyes, which are glowing yellow. He normally wears a very elegant suit with a tie and has a metal brace that goes from around his collarbone to just below his eyes. It was pretty simple description of the villain, but there wasn’t much to him.

“Now?“ The male inquired, a hint of annoyance traced his smooth and calming voice. His voice sounded a lot like a gently sea softly rippling in the waves. But in actuality he was more like a thundering storm as the large ocean waves crashed harshly against large dark-gray-almost-black rocks.

“Yes, it is important.” You answered, putting a fake smile across your face. You still heard the faint sound of explosions from Katsuki and knew that you didn’t have a lot of time. Katsuki only could hold off for fifteen minutes before he went full on battle mood. And the villains would definitely think at something is up. Kurogiri hummed thoughtfully before nodding his head in agreement and holding out his purple misted hand.

”Come on dear…” The man whispered soothingly and smiling up and down at you.

“Thanks!” You chirped getting up and going behind the bar, following the villain down the stairs that creaked underneath your feet.

“BOSS!! Somebody wanted you!!” Kurogiri called, you took a deep breath before flinching as you looked into the villains base.

It was the same red bricks that seemed to be different colors every brick that was placed down to make the wall of the bar. There was smooth fake wood counter with clean royal red plush bar stools with the smallest backs on them. There was a few hero posters scattered around the base, one medium sized All Might poster hung to the right of a small screen TV. The dull gray light picketed on and off as the headlights didn’t provide much protection against the dark loom of everything. Different types of bottles hung on narrowed shelves behind the bar. Right next to the bar was a metal door, the window had cages around it and a long shiny knob that went down the left side. To the right of the door was a old faction radio station with LED lights surrounding it. It was currently playing Take Me to Church, apparently just starting to play it seeing how the introduction was still on. You narrowed your eyes before leaning against the red brick wall and giving everyone a swept gaze. All of the villains names that where forced to memorize came to your head all of a sudden.

Himiko Toga was standing in the farthest left, spinning in the red barstools.

Himiko is a relatively petite, fair-skinned girl who is very prone to blushing and is frequently described as to having a rather pretty face. She has slightly inward-tilting bright yellow eyes with thin slits, making them somewhat resemble those of a cat, and her wide mouth is also rather feline, as both her upper and lower canines are more pointed and longer than the rest of her teeth, giving her a vampire-like appearance. Her hair is a pale, dirty ash-blonde and is styled into two messy buns, with numerous wild strands sticking out at all angles from their centers and where they’re fastened, a straight fringe and two chin-length side bangs to frame her face. Himiko’s outfit consist of a plain seifuku with a Kansai collar, both the skirt and the shirt dark blue with a double white trim, which is paired with a red scarf that she ties loosely below. Over this, she wears an oversized beige cardigan with a rather long hem and cuffs, and pockets on either side, the right one shown to hold a number of trinkets on either a keychain or a cellphone strap. She sports knee-length black socks and dark brown dress shoes with thick heels, the same as the outdoor uniform shoes students traditionally wear in Japanese schools.

Tomura was standing next to Himiko, a bored expression clouding his features.

Tomura is a slim man with deathly pale skin, tinged yellow, and wrinkled a great deal around his eyes. His lips are chapped and uneven, a small mole on the right underneath, with visible scars on his right eye and under his lip. He has messy grayish-blue hair of varying lengths, the longest clumps reaching to about his shoulders, left hanging over his face in uneven waves. His eyes are normally obscured, but when visible, they are usually stretched wide in a rather maniacal manner, their bright red irises are very small.

Interestingly, when Tenko was at the age of five, he bore a striking resemblance to Izuku Midoriya, with his blue hair originally being dark black in color, while also having dried patches of skin around his eyes, though his lips were shown to be healthy in appearance. After his Quirk manifested, his appearance changed giving him a wrinkled face and changing his hair color.

Nobody else was in the base, the rest of the villains where busy surviving customers or dealing with Bakugou.

Then you saw him

Deku…

Deku has been a classmate of yours for a while, although you guy’s rarely talked to each other you always admired his strength and wisdom. Soon he became the number one hero and you became the second, Bakugou and Todoroki following closely behind. The only real reason you where able to make it to number two was due to the popularity votes for citizens. Everyone liked you, they loo up to you. So rationally you often teamed up with Deku. He was not good with the citizens since he never got a chance to talk to them due to the fact that he broke his bones in battle often but his quirk was amazing. And you didn’t have a lot of strength so that gave you time to connect with the citizens. The two of you working together helped everyone live a better place. Now seeing him tied up and helpless, it made you pretty angry.

“I would love to sit here and chat, but I got a hero to save!” You smirked as you raced on ahead and grabbed Deku, pulling him out of the chains before the villains had any time to react. Standing next to the hero you where slightly taller (mind you he hasn’t grown since high school so that wasn’t really anything to brag about being taller then him).

”HELLPPP!!!” A scream shouted from Kastuki, your eyes widened as you sprinted off to get the number three hero. Deku closely followed you as he got his quirk ready. But by the time that you rushed out you knew it was too late. Katsuki had been crushed by the blue flames that wrapped around his body.

“KACCHAN!!!” Deku screamed, DabI whipped his head around and started at the number one hero.

”You idiot!“ You hissed as you grabbed Deku’s arm and made a run for it. Dragging him out into the open where a bunch of other hero’s where’s standing just in case something happened. You noticed that they where busy on their phones and probably didn’t even hear Katsuki screaming for help. You rushed Deku to the side of the red brick building and waited for a ambulance to come pick Deku up. Once they carried him away you narrowed your eyes at the pro-hero’s.

”I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY IF YOU ACT LIKE THAT AGAUN!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRESS YOU PUT US THROUGH??? DYNAMIGHT COULD HAVE STILL BEEN ALIVE IF YOU HAVEN’T SAT ON YOUR ASS ALL DAY AND ACT LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING SLUTS!! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO RIP ALL OF YOUR HEADS OFF, FEED THEM TO MY DOG, MAKE MY DOG SHIT OFF A BRIDGE AND SEE THE SHIT SMEERED ON THE TIRE, GET A LIGHTER AND BURN THE CAR DOWN, TAKE THE ASHES AND PUT THEM IN A GROUND, I WILL TAKE THE GROUND WHERE THE ASH IS AND MAKE IT A STRIPER CLUB, AND THEN GET A EXORCIST TO PUT YOU TO HELL!!!” You started cussing them off, the pro-hero’s shuffled uncomfortably and looked at each other with weird stares. They knew that they where in shit when they pissed you off. You weren’t very easy to piss off so when somebody pissed you off they knew they were in deep horse shit.

*** You rushed into the hospital bed where Deku was at. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stood on the edge of the male’s bed and watched as thick tears streamed down his face. You grew soft and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down baby…I am here…” You reassured, slowly climbing on the bed and getting on him. Deku gulped thickly at the closed distance between the two of you and began sweating nervously.

“Y/n!“ You yelped, trying to scoot back. You looked up at him and gave the male a cocky smile.

“What? Are you suggesting something?” You leaned in and whispered in Deku‘s ears. Deku whined before nodding his head ‘yes‘ you rolled your eyes and began to unbutton your shirt. Popping out a few buttons in the process. Gently, you pulled down your panties and threw them to the side, lifting up your skirt and showing your ass to Deku. Deku trembled slightly and started licking at the entrance, slowly, he began eating you out. You moaned quietly before bucking Your hips backwards. Deku gasped before moaning also and continuing to do his work. Once Deku are you out for a few minutes you pulled away and Deku looked at you with large puppy dogs eyes. His Greek emerald eyes blown wide in lust.

You leaned down and took off his pants with your teeth, dragging your nails up his clothed hero uniform shirt. Deku bucked his hips up and whimpered. You smirked into the material. Once you actually got the pants down you slipped off his boxers and starting to get settled on Deku.

You and Deku had this off and on thing. You guy’s weren’t dating each other and fucked other people but it was always a delight when you got to fuck him. A smile always formed on his lips when you topped him. He always thought that everyone was going to leave him to be the top, so it was reassuring when he saw that somebody cared about him enough to dom him and show him who is in control.

You where snapped back into reality when Deku gasped in shock as you took him all in, groaning slightly at the fact that you took him with such ease because he has been in you so much. Slowly you waited for yourself to adjust (which didn’t take that long) before you started bouncing up and down. Deku threw his head back and moaned loudly as felt your walls clench around him. You kept bouncing on him up and down in a rhyme pattern.

“Come on baby, thought you liked it…” You pouted, looking down on the green haired hero and smiling cockily.

[bellafarallones2]

a/n: t-rated indruck fluff from #21 on Veronica Bunch's college au prompt list: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

Duck had signed up for Performance Studies because he needed arts credits and because the meeting time, seven to nine in the evening Tuesdays and Thursdays, worked well with the rest of his schedule. He was less happy when the professor emailed out the homework for the first day: a reading that examined the question “what is performance?” for thirteen dense pages without managing to come to a conclusion.

By the time he showed up to the first class, he barely remembered any of the points the reading had made. Most of the other students already seemed to know each other, and were talking in groups when he arrived. Only one man, a tall guy with silver hair whose black roots suggested he’d spent an evening bent over a sink for it, was sitting alone and silent.

“Anyone sitting here?” said Duck.

“You?” said the guy hopefully. He was wearing jeans and a soft beige cardigan over his white shirt, and there was a small rainbow-flag patch on his black backpack.

“I’m Duck,” Duck said. “And my pronouns are he/him.” He still occasionally got read as a butch lesbian, and it was better to establish the pronoun thing right out of the gate.

“Indrid. I also use he/him.”

That was all they said before the professor showed up and class began. The professor genuinely cared about the material, which made the whole thing more interesting, though Duck was still distracted. Indrid had very nice hands, nails painted chipped black, and he doodled the entire class, filling a whole page with spiky fractals.

Finally nine o’clock arrived. The sky outside was pitch-black. “I’m not really looking forward to walking home this late,” Duck said as he stood waiting for Indrid to finish packing up. “Wish I had your punk privilege.”

“Excuse me?” Indrid looked amused.

“You know. You’re tall and you have piercings.” As Duck said that, Indrid stood up, revealing that he was even taller than Duck had previously thought. Jesus, this guy had Slenderman legs. “You look like you could throw a punch.”

“I could use my punk privilege to walk you home, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate it, if it’s not too out of your way - I live on High Street next to the REI.”

“Yeah, I’m going that way.”

Duck held the door as they left the building and walked together down the half-lit street. The planes of Indrid’s face looked almost unearthly in the streetlights.

“You an art major?” Duck asked.

“Visual arts and math. I needed to take something in theater or music as a distribution requirement and this was the least theater or music class I could find that was also after noon.”

Duck laughed. “Yeah, I’m in the forestry program and I had to take something artsy.”

Indrid nodded. They walked in silence for a while, but Indrid didn’t seem to mind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his face turned up.

“This is me,” Duck said when they reached the REI. The door to the apartments above was almost unnoticeable next to the brightly-lit storefront.

“Alright,” Indrid said as Duck fiddled with his key. “See you on Thursday!”

“Goodnight!” said Duck when the door swung open, looking around. As soon as Indrid saw that Duck was inside, he turned and walked back the way they’d come. Duck wondered vaguely where he lived; this block didn’t have many students. Ah, well. A question for another day.

--

On Thursday before class Duck stopped at the snack bar for dinner and spotted a familiar head of silver hair. Indrid was drawing, his head tilted at an odd angle so he could both look at the page and drink from the straw on a sixteen-ounce cherry slushy.

“Mind if I join you?” said Duck.

Indrid looked up and his face lit up. “Of course! I don’t mind, I mean. Please sit.”

Duck realized then that what he’d assumed was art was in fact math, that Indrid was taking notes out of a slim, intimidating textbook. Duck recognized a couple of integral signs and that was about it. “Math, huh?”

Indrid nodded.

“I had to take Calc 2 for my major, I wish I’d known you then so you could have helped me with it.”

Indrid laughed, tapping his pencil. “I’d have been happy to. Certainly numbers make more sense than people do, sometimes.”

“Probably more sense than that performance reading.” Duck leaned forward. “I don’t suppose you’d be down to walk me home again?”

Indrid shrugged. “You’re good company.”

--

Duck met Indrid again at the local park that weekend. Their homework for the week was to record themselves performing in a way they did in their daily lives, and Duck didn’t feel like getting into gender, so he’d decided to show how he performed when giving a nature talk, and he’d asked Indrid to help film. (He’d offered to help film Indrid’s performance in return, but Indrid had politely declined, joking about performance anxiety.)

It was less awkward than Duck had been expecting. He walked around the park, pointing out the fungus on a tree trunk and a frog sitting with just its eyes over the surface of the water. Indrid, filming on Duck’s phone, smiled encouragingly whenever he met Duck’s eyes, and it was all Duck could do not to break his train of thought to grin back.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said when he was done.

“Thank you for the free nature walk!” said Indrid as he handed Duck’s phone back to him. Their hands brushed against Duck’s smooth phone case. “I come here to draw sometimes, but I’ve never noticed all that before.”

--

They watched everyone’s videos in class that week. Most of them were pretty boring. Duck cringed through the playing of his own video, though Indrid had done a good job with the camerawork, and a few of the music majors in the class had recorded themselves playing their instruments, which was at least nice to listen to. And then it was Indrid’s turn.

The video opened on a close-up shot of Indrid’s face. I am an artist, the voiceover said, Indrid’s own voice booming across the classroom. Sometimes I even look like it.

The Indrid on the screen bent his head - he was looking not at the camera but at a mirror behind it, putting on heavy eyeliner and spotty mascara. He switched out the subtle studs along the shell of his ear for something heavier, flashier, chain running between the holes. Then he stepped back from the camera and shrugged on a black leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders. A punk jacket. He posed, self-conscious, and as he started laughing the camera cut sharply to his face, again large.

I had an internship last summer with an insurance company calculating risk. He rubbed the makeup off his face with a makeup wipe, his eyes reddening slightly at the contact. He removed the jacket and folded it carefully before placing it out of frame. And then he picked up a pale blue button-down and buttoned it carefully down over his undershirt, and tied a tie in a perfect Windsor around his neck. He removed the bar from his eyebrow and the chains from his ears, which looked rather naked without them.

I perform to look like the things I know I can do. He dabbed concealer over the rosy maple moth tattooed at his neck, one wingtip peeking over the collar of the shirt. Then he held his hand out for a handshake, a business handshake, and sure, he looked like the kind of person Duck would trust to sell insurance. But there was something about his smile, something Duck wondered if anyone else could see. Something that lingered no matter what he wore.

Duck probably should spend less time thinking about his mouth.

--

“So my lease ends in January,” said Duck casually as they turned the corner onto his street. “And I’ve been having trouble finding other places that rent to students in this neighborhood, so I was wondering how you found your place.”

“Oh,” said Indrid, sounding guilty. “Well, I don’t know how much help I can be. I live up by the corner of 16th street and Broad.”

Duck did some quick mental geography as he climbed the step up to the front door. “That’s completely the other direction!”

“I know.” He was dressed like neither an insurance salesman nor a metal punk, today, with gold studs glittering in his ears like grains of sand and a soft, oversized sweater falling off one shoulder. The black roots of his hair had grown since the beginning of the term.

“You told me the first day of class that walking home wouldn’t be going out of your way! You know I don’t need walking home, right?”

“Of course. I just. Uh. I wanted to spend more time with you. I’m sorry for misleading you, we can stop if it makes you feel weird.”

Duck looked down at him. Indrid stood silently, awaiting judgment. “How about you come in?”

Indrid looked up. “I don’t mean to impose, it’s no trouble to walk home -”

Duck held out his hand. Indrid took it and followed him up the stairs without letting go. “You aren’t allergic to cats, are you?” Duck said when he finally had to take his hand back to unlock the door.

“Even if I was, I’d happily resign myself to sneezing.”

Duck opened the door and, as soon as Indrid was inside, crowded him up against it. Indrid slowly lifted his hands, trembling, and rested them on Duck’s shoulders. His gaze beneath his glasses flicked from Duck’s eyes to his lips and back again.

“Can I kiss you?” Duck said.

“Yes please.”

Indrid’s mouth was warm and soft and yielded so easily to Duck’s tongue, fuck, they should have done this sooner. Class would have been so much more bearable if he could have been looking over at Indrid’s lips the whole time knowing that as soon as class was over he could drag him out into the hallway, into one of the gender-neutral bathrooms in the arts building and kiss him silly.

“You don’t have any morning classes tomorrow, do you?” Duck asked when he finally pulled away enough to speak.

Indrid shook his head.

“Want to watch a movie and make out?”

“That sounds perfect.”

[shade-romeo]

S.. sanders sides... b..ba...band au..

(There's a shit ton of info under here but I'm gonna reblog with even more :) ))

(Also let me know if I need to tag anything, I'm not sure if there's anything triggering down there, since it's mostly just a brain fart)

Roman plays guitar.. Janus does drums... Remus is lead vocals... Janus and Roman both also sing backup....

Their band is names Epifany. A misspelling of Epiphany because Remus liked the sound of the word, but he changed the spelling because "Ph doesn't deserve to take away all of F's hard work."

They're all in highschool together, (Seniors, the twins are 18, and Janus is 19, so they're not minors. Just putting this out there so Remus' stage outfit isn't like.. bad.), so in order to keep everyone off their back, they never reveal who they really are when they do band things in public, so like.. they all have what is essentially a celebrity persona.

Roman calls himself Prince, obviously.

On stage, Prince wears a black long sleeved shirt, with a red vest that is absolutely covered in patches, no pins tho, cuz they rattle and the mic might pick up that sound. He also wears like.. grey pants, that /look/ like dress pants, but they actually aren't, they're super comfy and flexible, but they give off the vibe of like.. professionalism. And then of course some nice heeled boots, that you really can't see because of the pants, but they're there.

And then when doing interviews, he wears a white button up, with black tight jeans, so he can put on his pretty boots and actually have them be seen. He also likes to wear his white silky gloves to interviews, cuz silk feels really nice, all slippery when he rubs his hands together, but sometimes he doesn't, mostly because he forgot to put em on that day. And he only ever remembers as soon as they're at the interview and he gets so upset, cuz now he can't rub his hands together and have it be all slippery :'(.

Two things Prince is never seen without though? His mask, and his crown. His mask is a deep red, with white around the edges, and lil crowns in the corners. And his crown, it looks like one of those plastic crowns you get at like party city, which.. it is, only because it has the foam inside to keep it on his head, otherwise it would fall off constantly.

Remus goes by Duke. Again, duh.

On stage, Duke wears a dark like forest green tanktop, with tons and tons of bracelets on his arms, they aren't loose, because if they were, they would clack together, and that's not good for the sound on stage. He also wears a black choker with spikes and a hoop on the front. It literally looks like a dog collar, and lots of fans speculate that it actually is a dog collar that he bought at pet smart. Anyway, uh, he also wears black shorts, and fishnets underneath because bitches wanna be hot, alright? And of course he wears platform boots because yes bitch. And makeup. Bitch goin off.

To interviews, he wears literally the exact the same thing, except with WAY more jewelry, like, necklaces, piercings, bracelets, most of which are loose so he can just shake his arms and it makes maraca noises which is just fuckin awesome.

Remus has decided that instead of a face mask to hide his identity, like Roman and Janus use, he will wear one of those things that goes over your eyes, and makes like.. the electronic eyes?

These!!! He wears one of these, and like controls the reactions during interviews, on stage he normally switches them between songs, and bases it on the vibe of each song. Like if it's a love song, or a song talking about being in love at all, he'll put on the hearts. Then if its a song about like.. death, he'll put on the X's over his eyes.

Janus is Serpent. Honestly I'm not too good at original names.

Snake, on stage, wears a brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt, the t-shirt has a picture of a yin-yang on it. He also wears jeans, and work boots. Very casual on stage to be honest.

During interviews tho? Bro.. u better be ready to simp bro. He's got on a yellow button up, with a black vest, black dress pants and dress shoes, literally just dressin up all sophisticated and hot.

Though Serpent is never, EVER, seen without his bowler hat or gloves. Ever. He has both items on at all times, though he has two separate pairs of gloves for when he's on and off stage, the onstage pair having hidden grips so his drumsticks don't slip out of his hands. He also wears a face mask to hide his identity, though his is different from Roman's. His mask covers the bottom half of his face, but also covers the left side of his face. The bottom half of his mask is a darker yellow, brighter than mustard yellow, but still a darkish yellow, with black accents, while the part that covers the rest of his face, is green and looks like scales. He figures if Roman's gonna play into his Prince thing as much as he is, then he can have a mask with scales. Fuck off.

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART I: A COLLAR OF SPIKES}

Nessa has organised an underworld street race three towns over in Bay Haven, but an unbidden guest threatens to ruin her fun. @bebemoon​ @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules @blubbingbeautifully​

[Smash Shit Up - The Dropkick Murphys]

…I wanna be a rebel / I wanna break some bones… The stranger had not expected a party. Her dervish dance bounced the tawny bar lights off her silver jewelry and into the rowdy sea of singers, like spellwork. Bacchanalia for middle-aged punk rockers and genre-savvy millenials. Leaning against a vintage Guinness poster with his arms crossed and a nonchalance wholly at odds with the energy of the room - an energy he had known in the ports of Nassau or the harvest festival in Naples - he watched her black hair fly, and frowned. …Maybe they'll be yours / They might be my own… Husky voices that may, in another decade, have bellowed sea shanties in shabby taverns now chanted celtic punk choruses in downtown bars with sticky floors. Their owners raised glasses to toast the enchantress on the bar counter as they might once have a siren of the sea... Was that why he got faint whiffs of withered oak and moonshine? His nostrils flared. No, there was a memory of salty breezes around her, but also that of blood on asphalt. For a moment, he indulged in imagining her enthroned on a stack of barrels filled with rum, wearing a pinstripe suit and an Al Capone hat… ‘New in town, eh?’, said a jovial voice next to him. A scrawny guy in black wearing a tweed flat cap - true vintage, 1940s perhaps - grinned up at him. Vintage-style sailor tattoos, the stranger noted, and smells of diesel oil on his hands. He said nothing. ‘Round here, we can always tell a fella’s new, ye know - by the way he looks at our Pixie.’ The guy nodded proudly at the girl-shaped creature on the bar counter. ‘Quite something, ain’t she? All kinds of trouble, that one, but never a dull moment.’ Quite something. Yes, the stranger thought. He had expected the damp chill of the grave, or the dry musk of something withered, not this - not warmth and sweat and cold smoke and beer. ‘You here for the race? Look like the type, ye know. Not for the faint-hearted, though, that’s for sure. If you’re going against her, you better have your things in order, my friend…’, his new friend chattered on. ‘Funny’, the stranger said, almost to himself. ‘She looks almost…’ ‘Wait- did you say something?’ ‘… alive.’

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

[Voodoo People - The Prodigy (Pendulum Remix)]

The smell of burning rubber, sharp and sweet, stung in her nostrils, and Nessa huffed. That dirty, shaggy flea-bag! When she had devised an underworld street race, she had not expected to be hounded - ha!- by an actual werewolf. And a fast one, no less. She hunkered down on her bike and took the corner sharper than was probably smart, gritting her teeth as the back tire slithered over the icy asphalt. His bike roared closely behind her. No dice. He was good. Three mortals had crashed in the fist third, defeated by back alleys or night time traffic. Four of the seven vampires who had turned up to race had bitten the dirt - get it? - at the scrap yards, and she, too had almost been catapulted off her ride by an unwieldy chevvy and narrowly escaped being impaled on a 90s’ satellite antenna. Not wood, but not pretty, either. But through the neon-lit city and the downtown alleyways, the wolf had prevailed, silently tracking her. Not once had he tried to overtake her. Not that she’d have let him. Not once had he lifted his mirrored helmet shield, but she had been a vampire long enough to sense a wolf. To hell with politics, she had thought back there at the starting line, high on anticipation and roaring motors, and had reared her head, declaring the race a neutral zone and beckoning her tattooed grand marshals to give the go. Apparently, the wolf had not got the memo. Ignoring a red light, Nessa zipped through between a pickup truck and a taxi, heading for the coast. It had been fun at first, the thrill of racing an enemy of the coven, knowing that Ysa would collapse in a dead faint if she knew, and imagining Yinmei levitating away muttering ancient curses. But here, with the cold, crisp air pushing sharply against her bike and the frozen Bay in view, Nessa started to wonder if she had just been really fucking stupid. Again. Somewhere behind her, shrieking brakes and a thunderous crash hailed the disqualification of yet another racer, but the wolf clung to her like a shadow. Always the same distance. Not pushing, but not relenting, either. Nessa bit her lip and tightened her grip on the brakes. No way she was gonna let politics ruin her race. Or her fun. Bracing for the serpentine road curving down to theBbay, she leaned into each curve, sinews straining as she fought to balance the weight of the bike with the momentum of the curves. Knees scraping gently over the ice. The thrill of being suspended right there, between pure motion and a brutal crash. Left - then right - and left again… But she was starting to get annoyed - at him, and at herself. What if he was here to kill her? And she was just serving herself to him on a silver - well, not quite, but still - platter? Sure, vampires were generally stronger than wolves, or so Ysa had told her. But then again, Nessa wasn’t a great listener, so she couldn’t be sure, and she was still young for a vampire. And a sheep separated form the herd, and all that… Fuck. Okay. Nessa made a decision, in the instantaneous, short-circuit brain-glitch sort of way she made decisions, and crushed the brakes in the last curve of the road. Screaming, her bike drifted over frozen snow and spun her around, drifting. For a split second she grinned manically, delighted to have surprised the pursuing wolf. And then, as he desperately tried to pull his bike around, his machine veered into hers with a booming crunch, catapulting them both off the road. They went flying. The hard ground hit her sharply - once, twice. And again. Pain blossomed through her limbs as they tumbled downward, machines crushing them with weight and piercing skin with shrapnel. She could hear bones break- were they hers? Then her head hit the ice with a wet crunch, and her vision went red as they slid over the smooth ice, seemingly forever. And then, there was silence.

When she came to, blinking and dizzy and tasting blood, they were alone on the ice under a vast black sky, the city noise damp and far away - or was that her head ringing? She pushed herself up and got to her feet, legs trembling softly with the remembrance of a life that may have been lost, if she had been human. The bikes had left a black smudge trailing behind them, like something crushed and crawling away. She grinned. She wanted blood. She felt very alive. ‘That’, said a deep voice behind the second bike, panting, ‘was entirely uncalled for.’ She could hear his broken bones reassemble painfully, and winced at the sounds, the slurping and cracking. But then, he must be used to that, she remembered. The wolf - man, at the moment - towered there, broad shoulders taut beneath a sadly torn leather jacket, and removed his helmet. Oh, fuck. She hadn’t counted on him being that handsome - square features, black hair, piercing, dark eyes... and bloodied. Ruddy wolves. She took her helmet off, and knew her own hair was all over the place. ‘I don’t like dogs yapping and biting at my ankles’ she said, with a shrug, playing it cool. Or trying to. Her adrenalin was through the roof. ‘I’m funny like that.’ ‘You’re an absolute raving lunatic, is what you are’, he countered, but not angrily. There was a soft melody in his speech, well-worn, but distinct. Mediterranean? And had she hit her head that badly or was there just the slightest hint of approval in his voice? ‘I do what I can.’ She grinned. ‘I hear that’s usually your job.’ He ignored the jab. ‘Did you really just do that… to annoy me?’ ‘You started it, you… bloodhound.’ She crossed her arms. Now, down to business. ‘So- are you here to kill me?’ He brushed dirt and snow off his sleeves. ‘I hadn’t quite made up my mind yet.’ Honesty. She could respect that. Nessa gestured at the vast expanse of ice around them. ‘Go ahead. Knock yourself out.’ For a moment, he said nothing, just tilted his head, as if thinking. Or seizing her up. Beneath them, the ice crinkled quietly. ‘What makes you think I won’t?’ he asked, eventually. She shrugged again. ‘Nothing. I mean, you’d think by now you’d have got out your funky werewolf kung fu stuff or-’ she waved her hands - she really should have listened to Ysa more - ‘or whatever you guys are using these days.’ ‘Fire, mostly.’ The corner of his - well-shaped, wow - mouth twitched with amusement or disdain, it was hard to tell. He seemed oddly calm for a mortal enemy. ‘Well, that ain’t gonna fly out here, obviously. Pity. I do enjoy an occasional brush with death. Makes you feel that more…. Well, you know - whatever it is we are.’ ‘Right. And that triple backflip you just pulled there like some crash and burn cirque du soleil shit- that was what?’ ‘That was me telling you not to mess with me. But, like, in a fun way. ‘Cause I’m nice.’ ‘…Nice.’ He picked the word up, perplexed, as if it had suddenly become strange. A sharp cracking sound interrupted them. Oops… ‘So -’ she said, ‘if we’re all done here I’ll be on my way. Race to win and all that.’ She could feel his gaze on her as she picked up her bike. Battered and missing a few parts, but it would carry her well enough. ‘Just like that. You don’t think I won’t follow you again? Or beat you?’ The last bit with the hint of a grin. She mounted her bike and tested the engine. Still good. Phew. ‘Not with that piece of junk you won’t.’ She nodded towards what was clearly a lost cause, at least for now. That soft crackle again. A rift, razor sharp and angry, appeared in the ice. Time to go. ‘Sorry!’ she said, merrily, ignoring his quiet curses in a foreign language. Italian. Of course. And then she was off. With the engines roaring beneath her and a vicious cracking sound just below, she sped across the frozen Bay, elated, heart fluttering with triumph. All that space in front and the dark emptiness above - receding, eternal. Nessa grinned. No time to ponder the meaning of time in a deathless existence- She was free.

[mwub]

Etched in Stone

Chapter 1: Celestite

Sorry for taking so long, I’ve been moving and have limited internet access so I’m not online as often as I would like😅.

Anyways this is the first chapter for my multi fic Etched in Stone, thank you @ineffable-nalu for beta reading it, it gave me some ideas how to progress the story better

Without further ado~

——————————————————————————-

“Mama!”

“Yes dear?”

“Can you tell me our story?”

“Lucy dear, you've heard that story what must be a thousand times. Are you sure you want to add another to that tally?” A regal blond woman laughed at the expense of her now pouting daughter. The little girl greatly resembled her mother both in bearing and in looks. Golden blond hair framed her round but not too round face, a light dusting of freckles crossed the bridge of her button nose underneath large chocolate brown eyes, now sparkling with wonder as her mother began the story.

“Long ago,” Layla hummed, tucking Lucy deeper into her bed. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There was nothing, no animals, no plants, no people to call Earthland home. For Earthland did not yet exist. And then one day the sun and moon, who loved each other very much but could not be together began to cry for they were lonely and wanted to share what they have with others. From those tears came life.”

“When the moons tears fell, so did the stars, oceans formed and moved to the moons silent songs. When the suns fell, volcanoes reached high up for the heavens in hopes of one day meeting the stars.”

“Get to the part about how real life formed mama”

“I’m getting there sweetheart” Layla laughed in reply.

“When the volcanoes split the earth, so did the ocean in response, creating lakes, rivers, and streams. And in some areas so cold the oceans becomes living stone.”

“ But it was not enough for the Sun and Moon, for they wanted more. They wanted children of their own. So in desperation they shed more tears and breathed life into the environments of their own creation. From the sea the first mermaids and mermen sang their first songs. From the stars came the first celestial priests and priestesses. And from the volcanoes came…”

“Dragons” Came an excited squeal from underneath a mountain of blankets.

“Uh huh, from the deep depths of volcanoes came Dragons. Now, when the Sun and Moon formed their children , they warned them that they must not consort with humans, for it will bring disaster. The creatures of the sea and stars agreed but the king of the dragons did not. He believed one should love who they wanted and did so anyway.”

Lucy clutched her dragon plushie tighter in anticipation.

“The Sun and Moon grew angry with the dragon and so cursed him with his disobedience. Never to be seen again”

“Whatever happened to the rest of the creatures, mama?”

“Despite obeying the Sun and Moon, the others were punished as well for fear of rebellion. Their powers locked away in the stones for which they were born, serving as relics to a great betrayal. Living as ordinary beings amongst the humans they were told to fear.”

Lucys eyes began to droop as a deep yawn escaped her, sleep taking its toll. Layla smiled lovingly at her daughter, reaching to wind a small music box on her bedside, delicate music tinkling gently.

“What do you think happened to the Dragon mama?”

“ Well I would hope he’s found peace, one who loves too much shouldn’t suffer forever.”

“Good night my Darling... “ Was the last thing Lucy heard before letting sleep take her.

———————————————————————

“What do you mean you don’t have any of those kinds of books?”

“We sell fact not fiction mam, as I’m sure you are well aware of that by now miss Heartfilia.” A flat voice drawled in reply, timbre as dull as the face making it.

19 Year old Lucy Heartfilia couldn’t believe it, this was the third town she had visited that refused to sell any of the old lore books, believing them to be blasphemous to the sacred teachings of Zentopia. She had really hoped that Hargeons famous library would be different but no such luck.

Oh well, time for good ol’ plan T.

‘Are you sure there isn't any dusty old books hidden the back~” Batting her eyelashes with gusto, leaning onto the counter, giving the store keeper a peak at her generous cleavage.

“A-Absolutely not! For the last time miss, no one carries that type of literature anymore, the church ordered their burning years ago.” The old man blustered with a face as red as a Roma tomato. “I couldn't sell you any even if could get my hands on a tome”

“Now get out”

“Stupid old Geezer’ Lucy huffed outside the shop now, refitting her paperwork back into her leather satchel and straightening her dark blue tartan skirt and white button down blouse topped with a adorable black vest. She had even dressed the part too, a scholarly student researching for a history project. What a waste of time, Another day, another bust.

Oh right, I forgot to introduce myself didn't I? My name is Lucy Heartfilia, daughter of Layla and Jude Heartfilia, Jude being a local bank owner and Layla a seamstress, at least they were until the economy crash 13 years ago. Jude died of a stroke from over working and mama… let's just say fate had other plans for her. I’ve essentially been on my own since I was 15, with only a few belongings of my own I've been on my own ever since.

Taking out her notebook Lucy couldn’t help but sigh, there goes Hargeon off her list, uncapping her marker to cross it off. At least that’s what she was trying to do when life hit her with an unexpected surprise. A pink one in fact.

Before she could even put the tip of her permanent marker to the paper she suddenly was shoved to the hard concrete, black ink streaking across her cheek in a zigzag. Oh NO, her makeup was completely ruined.

Rising up on her elbows to give whatever hit her a piece of her mind Lucy was stopped short by something extremely odd. No, not something. Someone.

As her vision cleared she was confronted first with dark, almost black green eyes inches from her own chocolate ones, and even more oddly. Salmon pink hair sticking up in a messy disarray of spikes all over his head, almost seeming intentional in its unruly chaos.

Next was the alarmingly warm hands on either side of her waist, breaking the fall of what Lucy now realized was a boy perhaps her own age. Lucy could say for a matter of fact he was good looking, decently built with a muscular physique comparable to a pro athletes and a perfect tan to boot. Yes, definitely cute.

Lucy didn’t get to ponder for long as the stranger then suddenly jumped to his feet with surprising agility, his hands bringing her up with him in a rush that had her head swim a little dizzily. One hand on her waist and the other holding her own limp hand.

“Watch where you’re walking weirdo, don’t wanna get yourself hurt do you?’ The boy laughed, still holding her a little too close for a stranger to be doing. What’s with this guy?

“Excuse me? You bumped into me, who the heck sprints down the street like that without looking where they’re going” Lucy huffed, her head finally clearing from the shock of her present situation.

The boy only smirked. “Oh I know I where I was going, you just happened to be in the way. What's the point of going somewhere if you don’t know where you’re headed”

“I-I Know where I’m going” Lucy blushed. “I’m going to the Magnolia after I finish my work here.” Lucy finished with a sense of finality,gripping her satchel more firmly, why would he even ask that silly question? Of course she knows where she’s going.

“Ok… well in that case you were walking in the wrong direction. Magnolia isWest, not East of here.” Snickered her mystery boy.

“Oh, well thank you” Lucy coughed a little awkwardly, taking a step back finally to take in his full appearance finally. He really was in excellent shape. Broad shoulders tapered sharply under a black one armed waistcoat trimmed with gold thread, cream trousers held up by a similar colored sash around his waist and a pair of black sandals adorned his feet simply. The collar of his jacket open just enough for Lucy to get a glimpse of toned chest littered with faint white scars.

A bit of an odd outfit in Lucy’s opinion, but for whatever reason it seemed to suit him.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked suddenly, snapping Lucy back to reality.

“Lucy… Lucy Heartfilia” Answering automatically, Lucy cursed herself, she just met this boy and she already felt the need to spill all her secrets. Aquarius would be ashamed of her. Never trust a man with your secrets, secrets are a woman's best hand in a war.

“Thats a nice name,” Pinkie whistled. “My names N-”

“STOP RIGHT THERE! THIEF” A booming voice rang out over the stone courtyard, suddenly dozens of Zentopian royal guards flooded surrounding area.

“Thief..” Lucy whispered, eyes widening slowly.

“Crap” N growled, his Happy Go Lucky demeanor suddenly dropping as he made a run for it, he was practically a blur as he made a mad dash onto a more crowded street and seemed to vanish among the crowds of the local shopping district and boutiques.

“Excuse me miss” A grave looking guard approached Lucy. “Do you happen to know anything about this boy?” Holding up what appears to be a wanted poster of N. Except instead of the seemingly happy guy she just met, she was greeted with the face of a much more menacing looking criminal. Sharp soulless eyes pierced her soul with malice and a cruel sneer curved his lips. She did not know this person.

“No, nothing at all.” Lucy said curtly. Keeping a firm jaw in hopes of not giving anything away. While it was true she didn’t know anything about him, she wanted to. Gripping her satchel more firmly in an effort to stand her ground, she stared back at the guard.

Giving her a hard look the guard finally deemed her innocent enough and thankfully moved on to interrogate more passerby.

Releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding, she bent down to collect some of the papers that had fallen with her unexpected date with the ground, noting that some appeared to be missing or at the very least out of order. She’ll check on that later on the train to Magnolia.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts of pink hair and a fanged grin, Lucy slowly made her way to the train station with vague hopes of catching the last train of the evening. Better luck tomorrow she guessed.

[wildtige429]

Crush

@lynea-kureji

This is how Toshi first met the girl of his dreams. I hope you would do some cute pics of the two together.

May contain references to Gravity Falls. And a touch of Jurassic Park.

--------

(Six Months Ago)

Toshi was hanging out in the lobby of St Olga’s whilst the other princesses show Star and Marco (as Princess Turdina, liberator of the oppressed princesses of St Olga’s), the new reform school that was once a prison and now turned into a place of self-acceptance, non-stop partying and brunching.

The young lizard hid from view because he felt embarrassed and nervous around so many girls of every kind, who are gushing and admiring him for his cool and good looks. He did stand out and gave them forced smiles at their way with some cool gestures pointing at them, spotting them swooning at how cool he is, and kept on walking out of the lobby. When he reaches the dining hall, he froze upon the sight of a very pretty elvish-looking princess.

“Oooh, a girl!” he shivered, temptation and delight swelling up and filling his brain. He realised what he is going through and took deep breaths to calm himself. He is going through what boy lizards, make it a Septarian or a Lacertian, are going through when they see a girl they like in coming of age. 

The urge to mate.

“Calm down, Toshi,” he advised to himself, hiding behind a potted plant so the girl wouldn’t notice him, “Think normally. Don’t do anything lizard-related just like those lizard men from the anime, Overlord, cause it will make the moment super awkward, and be cool. Besides, what could happen?”

The moment the elvish girl stopped by the plant he’s hiding behind, he peeked through the leaves, wearing a calm (though really forced) grin on his snout. His sudden appearance was so sudden, the girl was taken back.

“Clever boy,” she whispered in fright.

“HI!” he greeted in a sudden loud voice, “NICE TO MEET YOU!!” He stuck out his hand to her for a handshake and he bared his sharp teeth through his creepily forced grin.

The girl’s reaction? She shrieked, threw the cup of punch she had in her hands at his face, and ran away screaming like a bat out of hell. 

And Toshi’s reaction to his super awkward greeting? His face twists into a miserable frown and he moved back to hide behind the ferns so he can hide his shame and embarrassment. 

However, unbeknownst to him, Marco and Star had witnessed what happened.

(Six Months Later)

“DUDE! YOU’RE SOCIALLY AWKWARD WITH GIRLS!!!!!????” 

“Marco, please! Don’t shout like that,” Toshi whimpered, face buried into his pillow to hide his shame, “I don’t wanna think about that night.”

“How can you get so awkward with girls even though I’m a girl?” Star pointed out.

“If you were a Septarian or a Lacertian, you would understand!” Toshi cried, muffling his sob in the pillow.

“But still-! Dude, you need help on going out with girls! Or not you’re going to be single and awkward forever!” Marco suggested.

“HOW!?” the young lizard howled, lifting his head up and giving Marco the big sad lizard eyes that are brimming with tears, “I never been out with anybody for 20 years living like an outcast and fugitive from the law and treated like a villain like my DAD!”

The Hispanic smiled and rested his hand on his shoulder, “Tosh, you got me and Star. We’ve been out with a couple of people and we’ll help you get better in talking with girls.”

Toshi sniffed, rising up and wiping away his tears, “Thanks, guys. But I-I-I think it would be best if I ask my parents.”

“NO!” Marco and Star screamed, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hold till their faces are squished side-by-side, “Toshi, if you want good dating advises -!” Star screeched.

“NEVER TAKE DATING ADVISES FROM PARENTS!!” Marco howled dramatically.

“Why? I thought and heard getting dating advises from parents will be better than friends’ dating advises,” he protested, pulling himself out of their hold, “I know, but sometimes dating advises from parents can get you into crazy trouble. I saw a friend did it by listening to his dad’s advice on how to hitch a girl and he ended up shunned by girls everywhere he goes,” Marco warned.

“And we don’t want you to end up in that same fate,” Star cried, hugging him.

“Speaking of my parents giving me dating advices, you should see this if you can trust them on giving me dating advices,” Toshi hopped off his bed and strode downstairs. A moment later, he came up with a family photo album and took out a picture from a page. He hands the photo to them, and they were stunned by what they see.

“WOAH!” they shouted in unison.

It was a picture of the young lizard’s parents together, when they were teenagers, celebrating a crazy party with the two in each others’ arms, their wide grins showing they are having fun.

“THAT’S your DAD!?” Marco gasped, pointing at the picture of Toffee as a teenager.

“HE’S HOT!!!” Star commented in stunned awe.

“I know, now you know where I got my good looks from,” Toshi rolled his eyes, dryly.

“Okay, we can trust you on getting help from your parents, but let’s just hope nothing bad happens, okay!?” Marco cautioned.

“Sure. Besides, sooner or later, I gotta take a drive on Razor in Mewni,” he said, “Need to.....clear my mind from all things.”

“Good thinking,” the two friends nodded in agreement.

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

(In Mewni)

“Razor, if you ever meet a beautiful she-dragon cycle one day, would you do something casually until it ended up so badly? Well.....if that ever happens, we’ll be the only guys who are socially awkward with girls for life. Bu hey, we still got each other right?”

The cybernetic-looking dragon cycle chuffed and growled in agreement, nuzzling his owner in the shoulder. Toshi chuckled at the gesture and patted his head as the two watched the horizon of the desert, sitting on a hill to watch the view of the sun setting. 

“I already talked had the dating talk from mom and dad and Marco and Star just now,” he said to his dragon cycle, “All I have to do is calm down, take deep breaths and approach the girl like normal. Last time, I made myself look like a creepy stalker to that cute girl back at St Olga’s,” he sighed at that memory, “I wonder if I can apologise to her for scaring her. Maybe she won’t know me. Marco’s advise is girls’ like boys who are cool and kind, knowing full well he gets that with girls. Star’s is show the girls’ my talents and tell them about what I like, no matter if they don’t like anime or not. I just hope they don’t say Kamen Rider sucks and super childish.”

“But for Mom and Dad’s, it’s just be who I am and be patient when a girl talks to me and when you feel like doing something for her, you have to show her through actions. I remember that story of how Mom first met Dad. She began to love him later after he treated her as an equal when he made her part of his posse, especially on the days of war, made her his second-in-command. And Dad also told me, loyalty is what makes a girl like in a boy. I’m loyal. So I hope she is too.”

Razor nodded in understanding and agreement. It was getting late, so Toshi was about to mount Razor when the dragon heard a faint vroom of another dragon cycle. He turned his eyes to the direction and was smitten upon what he saw.

Well I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way? My girl (my girl, my girl) Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl ooh)

A beautiful female dragon cycle with the most beautiful red and yellow scales came into view, sniffing a bush filled with sweet-smelling flowers. The female has dazzling green eyes, beautifully curved and arching black horns, a nice set of tusks, and a long tail that ends with a few spikes.

Hey hey hey Hey hey hey Ooh yeah

Razor knew what he’s feeling, even his eyes are showing signs of it. He’s in love with this beautiful she-dragon cycle. And without warning, just as Toshi was getting on the saddle, the dragon cycle zoomed off towards the female and the sudden action flipped his rider onto his back.

“OW! Razor!” he shouted at his dragon cycle. 

“Oh, is he your dragon cycle?” a female voice surprised him. Turning his gaze away from his dragon cycle, approaching the female and giving out friendly chuffs and growls in greetings and getting the female dragon cycle’s attention, he saw a girl walk out from behind some trees.

And his heart just skipped a bit on the appearance of the newcomer.

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight It must have been something you said I just died in your arms tonight

She was the most stunning lizard girl she has ever seen in his life. Reaching to his shoulders, her scales were scarlet red, giving her the impression of a ruby, smooth yet wild white hair that streak down her shoulders and back, a pair of yellow horns protruding from her forehead to the back of her head, bedazzling gold eyes that pierces into your soul, and a long tail that ends with a flame on the tip. She was wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket, a white strapless singlet, a chain necklace with a lock on it around her petite neck, black fingerless gloves with metal plates on the back, matching jeans with one leg cut and short, matching heavy metal boots with silver buckles around the top and what caught his attention is that she’s holding a sketchbook, filled with anime character drawings on it.

I keep looking for something I can't get Broken hearts lie all around me And I don't see an easy way to get out of this Her diary, it sits by the bedside table The curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle Who would've thought that a boy like me could come to this

Be cool, Toshi, remember what everybody taught you, and don’t mess it up like last time, he reminded himself. Taking a deep breath, he got up onto his feet and approached the girl, “Hi,” he greeted. To his relief, she smiled, genuinely smiled at him, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat, “Yes, that’s my dragon cycle. Razor over there,” he swept the collar of his jacket to calm himself, “I see that he’s....interested with your dragon cycle.”

She giggled, “Valkyrie has a way with boys. Usually, she’ll scare them off if they get close to her. But somehow, your dragon cycle has gotten her attention and I’m impressed.”

They both looked to see the two dragon cycles rubbing noses in affection, purring. They couldn’t help but laugh that their dragons are in love.

“I’m Ruby”, she introduced herself, “Ruby Ryot. What’s yours?”

“Me? Uhm?” he cleared his throat when he felt his anxiety coming up, “Ahem. I’m Toshi. But my real full name is Shirogane Tytus Wyrmbane.”

Ruby’s eyes widened in amazement, “Shirogane? You’re named after Shirogane the Unbreakable!? That is AWESOME!!”

“I know right? My dad came up with that idea,” he spoke out in excitement.

“Your dad? Wait! Is your dad.....Toffee!?” she squealed in pure excitement, “Wow! I heard about you! Your the son who saved Mewni from Kurogane the Black Sail and was able to reunite with his dad! Is it true your dad and Kurogane are living with you now?”

“My dad, yes,” he nodded, “But Kurogane has became the kingdom’s guardian. You’ll see him roaming around sooner or later.”

The two lizards gazed at each other’s eyes for a few moments, feeling a spark happening between them, until they realised the time.

“I gotta head back home, it’s getting late,” he told her, fetching Razor, “So uhh, Ruby? When can we see each other again? I would like to know more about you.”

The lizard girl winked at him, making him blush as she fetched Valkyrie, “My dad’s gone off work tomorrow. So tomorrow?”

The two got onto their dragon cycles, revving them up in preparation for take off, “Tomorrow,” Toshi agreed. And with that, the two took off into different parts with Toshi using his dimensional scissors to open the portal back to his home and the girl flying off into the opposite direction of the desert.

Toshi could not believe it. He has finally talked to a girl, and the girl’s reaction was what he wanted and he couldn’t help but feel one thing.

He has a crush on her.

[lexiseigneur]

Chapter one: The man on the hill

Chapter on ao3

The perimeter alarm blared and the woman froze, for she knew death was on her doorstep. Three monitors displayed the feed of a dozen cameras and on one of them, a group of fifty Strigoi darted through trees. Low stances, white bald heads, and muscle spasms were evident even on the low resolution afforded by the cameras. The woman pressed a red button by her keyboard and the lights of the bunker died down with a crack. Above her, the hum of the ventilation system grew tired and stopped. Only the bluish glow of the screens remained. The beatings of her heart were so intense, they had become painful. Still, she hoped. In the forever clouded sky, the midday sun was piercing through. It would protect her for the time being as both entrances leading to her underground haven were exposed to the toxic light. How had they found her? Why would they even care about a single human being? Certainly, this army was more than what was needed to put an end to her existence.

Running ahead of the horde, a lone figure was getting closer. One small Strigoi caught up to it and was swiftly beheaded. Her jaw dropped open. This was their target, not her. Considering how easily the hooded man had dispatched the creature, their numbers suddenly appeared justified. Stepping out of the darkness and into the sunlight, he put his sword back in its sheath. The man stood in the clearing, on top of a small hill surrounded by thick woods. Rushing in the shadows, the Strigoi surrounded him. In less than one hour, the ochre light would return and the man would die. Torn to pieces by this nightmarish army. This prospect did not bother the fighter. Arms wide, he taunted the creatures and the woman wished she could hear what he was telling them.

She could help him. The charitable part of her wanted to save this fellow human. The part of her not yet tired of living wanted to stay safe in the compound and pretend that nothing outside existed. Sitting crossed legs on the dying grass, the hooded figure took the time to extract sunglasses from his pocket. If she departed now, she would be able to make it. It would be so very easy. The northern entrance appeared on the same screen as the man, hidden by a lone bush. By the light of the monitors, she dressed. A balaclava, goggles and a leather collar with metal spikes. When no skin was left uncovered she grabbed her weapons. A Beretta went to the holster on her hip and two rifles hung by their straps on her shoulders. Loose bullets tinkled gently in one pocket and a full box weighed down another. The last thing she reached for was a small pill shining by the red button. She placed it in a pocket near her heart. Death might come, but it would not be forced upon her. Sweat was already drenching her armpits and the small of her back. The woman hesitated as she unlocked the bulkhead which would lead her to the hill. Could she die? Was she ready? Yes. At least she would die fighting and not driven insane by solitude.

Her headlamp provided only modest illumination but she would have been able to find her way in complete darkness. She had always inspected this tunnel and other key facilities obsessively. The concrete tunnel ran for several kilometers, narrow and reeking of mold.

Her hands shook violently when she grabbed the bars of the ladder at the end of the underground corridor. The small body was struggling to accept its fate even as her mind was set. She closed her eyes, shoved that fear down mercilessly and breathed. The dark room in her head swallowed the anguish and her face hardened. She climbed up without hesitation. Between the tunnel and the topside entrance was a small space with a single table and modest surveillance equipment. On a map of the immediate surroundings, red crosses marked the placements of remote-controlled explosives. Those had been buried for exactly this type of situation.

Some of the Strigoi stood close enough to the mines. The black detonator was not yet armed and she removed the plastic covering the switch. When she flipped it, a red led turned on at the top of the hand-sized box. Would they even still work? Eyes fixated on the screen, she detonated the first charge. Vibrations shook the table and she smiled viciously. Charred and dismembered bodies laid amongst the trees.

Instead of getting deeper in the forest they shifted positions to continue surrounding the man. He was looking around madly in a desperate attempt to understand what had happened. At some point, she could swear he was staring into the closest camera. Every time enough Strigoi approached the location of a mine, she pressed another button. The sky was darkening and once she was certain no explosives could be used effectively; she put the detonator on the table and climbed up the second ladder.

The trap door opened quietly thanks to her care and the woman crawled out under the thick bush. More exposed than she had been in a year, she lied down, took aim with one of the rifles and shot. It was like kicking a hornet's nest. They danced wildly between the trees. But their desire to keep their prey in sight made them easy targets. One attempted to step out of the shadow cover and retreated with a screech. Its skin smoked and sizzled. The hooded man ran to her position but she did not have time for introductions. She tossed the second rifle as well as the last intact box of bullets out of the bush. He grabbed them but that was all the attention she could afford to give him. The bangs of gunshots resonated in her chest. Both his and hers.

Ochre light descended upon them like a death sentence. A dozen Strigoi were still alive and they barreled toward them. Dropping the rifle, she got on a knee and discharged her handgun. It was more practical in close range. Not that it would make much of a difference. Only one of the creatures perished from her shooting before another got into the “danger zone”. Meaning, it was close enough for its stinger to reach her. Desperate, she adjusted her aim but its mouth was already opening. It was too late. The woman held her breath and stared at her incoming demise. There was a splatter of white blood then eerie silence. The man stood where the Strigoi had collapsed and wiped his sword on the tattered clothes of the creature. Had he killed all the others? Just as she thought that his face seemed strange, a swarm of bullets hit him in the back.

The woman kicked the trap door open as the man plunged in the nominal shelter of the bush. Without a single word exchanged, they both plunged into the darkness below. Quickly, she locked the latch and jumped the two meters instead of climbing down. She glanced at the hooded figure standing. Relief washed over her and she immediately concluded that he was wearing a bulletproof jacket. Still, they had little time.

The monitors showed more Strigoi coming, including armed ones.  But she did not care. This entrance would have to be sacrificed. The detonator went into her pocket and she had a slight pinching of in her heart as she noticed the absence of both rifles. Too bad. She opened the other door leading to the tunnel and the man rushed down, unprompted. Good, he was quick on the uptake.

They ran down the humid tunnel and by the time they reached the halfway bulkhead, the woman felt like they might make it alive and well. At least she would. She had no idea how many bullets he had taken and how injured he truly was. Once their adrenaline levels died down, he might very well go into shock and kick the bucket.

She closed the armed door, smiled under her hood and pressed all the remaining buttons. Vibrations shook dust from the low ceiling. The Strigoi on that hills were likely in small pieces. They continued down the tunnel in the relative silence of her pounding heart. She broke one of her rules and undid her spiked collar before locking the last bulkhead behind them.

The woman tossed it on the floor as well as the goggles and the baklava. Then she rushed to the monitors. The northern entrance had collapsed and the few Strigoi remaining were slowly leaving. Despite herself, she laughed then pressed the red button which reactivated all the dormant systems. Giddy from this obvious victory, she turned toward her guest. He had lowered his hood and removed his glasses. Faster than she had ever moved before, she took out her Beretta and aimed directly at his head. He was one of them. Hairless skin, pallor and throat markings were all very obvious under the neon lights. With her other hand she took the pill out of her breast pocket. The little bundle of death felt heavy in her fist. She would die on her own terms. A million thoughts rushed through her head. Maybe he disguised himself to pass as human…but why stop this other Strigoi from killing her then…Why would they want to kill him if he was one of them? Was that a bone on his sword? Her Cartesian mind started analyzing all those matters.

 The small woman unlocked the bulkhead almost quietly. The mechanism had recently been greased. Quinlan grimaced as one of the bullets scratched at his shoulder bone. Warm blood dripped lazily against his back and on the concrete floor. He was starving and this would make it worse. The room they entered was remarkably large judging by the way their steps echoed. With a sigh of relief, the human shed the mask covering her face. A long brown braid flowed down her back. Darkness enveloped them except for the glow of three monitors. One displayed the clearing they had just left and the crater the explosion had created. Strigoi bodies surrounded the scorched earth while the few still alive attempted to track a scent trail which did not exist. The woman had a mirthless laugh and slammed a large button next to the keyboard. Strong lights shot pain through his sensitive eyes. He regretted removing his sunglasses and hood.

The dhampir knew exactly how she would react to his appearance and remained stoic when she turned to face him. Loose strands of wavy hair framed a young face. Quinlan deemed her unremarkable except for the unusual pink on her cheeks. Malnutrition and lack of sunlight had not marked her face which intrigued him for a single second. With dexterity stemming from repetition, she had unholstered her sidearm and aimed at his face. Fatigue coursed through him. Every single time. The weapon shook slightly. Her other hand fumbled with her breast pocket to retrieve a small object. Curiosity made him look but she kept the object in her fist, invisible. A thin eyebrow shot up and she cocked her head. Her gaze went to the wormless blood pooling at his feet, at the markings on his face then at the swirls adorning his throat. The woman frowned in confusion.

-        “If you shoot me, I will kill you.” He promised.

It was only a half-truth. Quinlan would kill her regardless because he was starving and his throat burned fiercely with each knocking of her heart. She ignored his threat which annoyed him greatly.

-        “What are you? You are not one of them…They wanted to kill you...You didn’t burn in the sun.” She rambled on.

Foolishly, he found himself surprised at the sound of her voice. He had expected a high-pitch squeak and instead he listened to deep, rich and smooth intonations. The woman spoke as would an American but some of the inflections were strange. It mattered not. Quinlan gathered the last of his energy for a bolt of inhuman speed. She squinted and without warning, lowered the gun. Interesting. The dhampir changed his mind and relaxed his muscles.

-        “Is this infectious?”

She pointed the gun toward the white blood.

-        “No.”

The muscles of her jaw tightened and she mulled over that information. She met his gaze and held it.

-        “Sickbay is that way.”

A delicate chin pointed at a blue door behind her. Quinlan’s eyes widened slightly. Did she mean to help him? The dhampir did not move. She sighed and put her gun back in its leather holster. Her right hand remained on the handle.

-        “You’re bleeding…please.”

The dhampir stepped ahead of her and opened the door. The room was large, each wall covered with cabinets. There were a fridge and a sink, all chrome for easy clean-up. In the center of the room stood a single metal slab that he found quite sinister. Quinlan sat on the cold table after letting his coat fall to the floor. The sword he kept with him. Removing his sweater would be unnecessarily painful and he did not wish to exert himself further. He might still change his mind and drink her. Strength would be needed to make it fast. The woman gathered equipment on a tray from various drawers as well as a small bottle from the fridge.

-        “Local anesthetics work on you, right?”

He glanced at the bottle of lidocaine. A doctor had once used that on him.

-        “It will but not for very long.”

The rubber gloves slid on her thin hands with great ease. Was she a physician?

-        “You’ll have to tell me when it stops working then.”

She selected the trauma sheers from the plater.

-        “Lie down, please.”

Quinlan glanced at the various instruments within her reach. Some were extremely sharp.

-        “I prefer to sit.”

The woman sighed in frustration.

-        “Well, I left my ladder in my other bunker.”

He despised the wittiness of the retort. Nevertheless, it was evident that she was too short to reach his shoulders. He complied reluctantly. The woman cut his clothes and pulled them away from his skin with caution. She grunted, wiped the blood away then counted the number of injuries.

-        “Do you feel any other wound beside your upper back?”

Quinlan focused but only the pain there was perceptible.

-        “No.”

She filled the syringe with the anesthetic. The injection burned but receded quickly. She plunged pliers into the farthest wound. Quinlan gripped the edges of the table. The drug was completely inadequate but he remained quiet. He focused on breathing between clenched teeth. The stitching was quick and precise. Once again he wondered what kind of medical doctor she was. That human could be useful. After all, the previous doctor had been to an extent.

-        “I told you to let me know about the pain. You will only exhaust yourself if you play the hero.”

Quinlan frowned at the last comment. Was it a trait shared by all medical experts to be so very irritating?

-        “I do not feel the stitching but the bullet extraction is…painful.” He conceded.

She filled another, much longer syringe and this time started by also stabbing the inside of the wounds. Quinlan said nothing but it helped tremendously. She worked quietly and efficiently until she made her way to the last bullet hole.

-        “You did not answer my question…why did they try to kill you?”

The dhampir considered his response carefully.

-        “Because their master wants me dead.”

She paused in the middle of a stitch.

-        “Who’s that master?”

-        “The vermin who controls them all and is responsible for the current state of the world.”

The woman’s face appeared in his field of vision.

-        “Why does this guy want you dead?”

-        “Because I will be the one who will destroy him.”

After finishing, she removed her gloves and tossed them on the tray.

-        “What happens if you kill him? Another would just take his place, no?”

-        “No. He is unique.”

Her mouth fell open.

-        “What happens if he dies?”

-        “The Strigoi perish with him. They are all bonded.”

We are all bonded. That thought would not cross his lips. She stared, her eyes widening as the meaning of his words reached her fully.

-        “This one dies and the nightmare ends?”

Her voice was cautious as if she imagined that it was a cruel joke. Quinlan pondered his situation. If this small woman had survived here through the Fall then the place was decently secure. In addition, she possessed some medical knowledge and possibly the will to aid him.

-        “Yes. It all ends.”

Her face contracted. She fought tears away by shutting her eyes tightly.

-        “We need to talk then.” She said when she won the battle over the emotions.

-        “I cannot stay. I need to feed.”

The sound of her rushing blood was becoming more intense and he had made the final decision not to kill her. The woman’s mouth contorted in disgust and she took a step back.

-        “I guess you don’t mean beans.”

He shook his head. Was she going to run from him? No, she walked to a drawer, rummaged its contents and placed several objects on another tray.

-        “I’m not a big person but…If I give you some of my blood…will you tell me more?”

The claws of his stingers clinked together loudly and he forced them still. Thirst was tearing through his chest, throat and entire body. Her offer appeared as nothing less than a godsend. There was worry on her traits. His control had slipped and she had noticed. With immense effort, he rained himself in.

-        “I will.” He whispered.

The woman stripped her jacket to reveal a tank top on her petite silhouette. She tied a string on her bicep and dabbed alcohol on her forearm. The chemical stink burned his nostrils. She found an appropriate vein but it kept rolling away from the needle tip.

-        “Can you try? I’ve never done that on myself.”

Since needles had been invented he had become proficient in their use. However, he had never had to stab anyone with them while that close to starvation. His body was painfully tense when he took the small instrument. The woman inhaled sharply when his fingers closed under the knot. He focused and the blood became apparent under the skin. The needle pierced through smoothly and the flexible tube filled red. Fortunately, there was very little smell. He secured it with medical tape.

-        “Do you have a name?” She asked and leaned against the slab.

-        You may call me Quinlan.

She smiled and quickly raised a hand to hide it. For the first time since she had removed her hood, he paid attention to her appearance. Her eyes were large and a dull hazel color. Her nose small and straight. A narrow jaw made her lips too full for her face. Quinlan’s general impression was that she appeared frail. He missed the sturdiness of some of his previous associates.

-        “My name amuses you?”

-        “No!” She replied instantly. “No…it was just unexpected.”

-        “What is yours?”

-        “Ale…just call me Lexi.”

He glanced at the bag and regretted it as the thirst intensified. Quinlan concentrated on the hazel eyes instead.

-        “What are you? A cousin species of the Strigoi?” She asked.

Lexi shook her head and the braid dangled against her back.

-        “That’s not something I ever expected to ask anyone…” She added.

-        “I am dhampir. Not another species…just a half-breed.”

Dark brows shot up and she examined the matter.

-        “How were you only half-turned?”

Humans were always curious about his nature. After thousands of years, it had become monotonous.

-        “I was not turned, I was born dhampir.”

-        “How?”

-        “I was conceived by two humans but my mother became infected while pregnant.”

Her gaze became distant, lost in memories.

-        “They ate everyone but not my friend…she was pregnant. They just…I always wondered why.”

She looked away and remained quiet for a moment. Quinlan could only imagine what Strigoi would do to avoid the birth of another Invictus. Knowing them, they would have torn her apart and made very sure she and her baby were properly dead.

-        “I don’t even know what to ask you so…whatever you find relevant.” she said.

Her eyes focused back on him. The dhampir spoke in a low voice as to avoid further irritating his throat. He started by explaining their attempt at locking the master away and how it had failed. Then he told her of his year-long quest for an atomic warhead which he now knew no longer existed. The Master had cleared them all long before he could find any. The last weeks he had been chased relentlessly, unable to rest, feed or in any way collect himself long enough to devise another plan. Her lips had turned clearer and he looked carefully at the full bag.

-        “It would be prudent to remove that needle.”

Her heartbeat was distinctly quicker. They had waited too long. He took the bag as soon as she pulled the needle from her skin. Quinlan removed the tube poking out of it. The warm liquid poured down his parched throat like water on fire. It tasted full of the countless fragrances of healthy blood. The dhampir sighed in delicious satisfaction. The thirst abated but lingered as the last drop touched his tongue. The pleasure drove a low purr out of the now lubricated throat. Having just finished placing a band-aid on her skin, the woman licked her dry lips. Blood loss would make her thirsty.

-        “You should not sta…”

But he was too late and as soon as she stood erect her eyes rolled back and she crumbled. Quinlan caught her before her head could slam on the concrete. The body was too light which confirmed his first assessment: frail. Quinlan deposited her on the slab and rushed to the tap to fill a glass of cold water.

-        “Oh…” She whispered and grabbed her head.

-        “Move slowly to let your body adjust to the blood loss. Drinking will help.”

She pressed a fist to her forehead and nodded. When she managed to sit he gave her the glass and waited until she finished then took it back and filled it again.

-        “Let’s go to another room. I don’t warm this one and I’m freezing.” She said.

Quinlan had not noticed but then again, his high metabolism spared him from those concerns. He accepted and waited patiently for her to stand and direct him to the other side of the compound. The sword remained on the slab, unneeded. Behind the black door, the air was distinctly warmer. This was clearly where she slept. A simple double bed frame stood at the farthest corner from the door and in between was a large table covered in paper, pencils, and paints. No doubt where she had created the myriad of illustrations covering the walls. Plants, animals, and landscapes were plastered everywhere.

Quinlan was very surprised to see a piano by the entrance, even if it was just electrical. Near the foot of the bed, a door led to a small bathroom. In another corner, stood a large metal wardrobe. Lexi deposited the glass of water on the table and made her way gingerly to the wardrobe. Her gait was wobbly. She gave him an appreciative look and searched through the various pieces of clothing. One seemed to please her and she tossed it in his direction. He caught the dark long sleeve cotton shirt and put it on. It smelled clean but felt slightly too tight around his large chest. This would be several sizes too large for her small frame and he inhaled deeply. No…the only human scent was hers. She was alone. But still, he doubted because he always did when chance turned his way.

-        “Who does this belong to?”

-        “It’s mine.”

She replied and sat at the table with a small notebook and a pencil. Lexi kicked a stool in his direction but Quinlan did not move. He stared, hoping to intimidate her into backing out of a possible lie.

-        “I like loose clothing when I sleep, ok?”

Then under her breath low enough for a human to miss, she whispered “ungrateful twat”. Quinlan sneered at the insult but sat. For the next hour, she took careful notes while he recounted the important event following the landing of that plane and the invasion of New York. On several occasions, she asked him to clarify a point while she flipped to previous pages to correct a misunderstanding or add details. She rubbed her face and neck more and more often. Her eyelids sometimes drifted shut for a second too long.

-        “You need to sleep” Said Quinlan eventually.

The woman nodded and closed the notebook.

-        “There is another bed in the next room if you want.”

She stood and glanced at him.

-        “Please don’t use the elevator to go up as long as the Strigoi are around. Check the monitors first.”

Quinlan grunted in agreement as this was a reasonable request. He took his leave and started exploring. There was the center of operations, a room big enough to fit several small houses with labeled doors on each wall. Her bedroom had once been a mess hall. Next to it was still a kitchen. He was extremely surprised to find it stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables. That explained her apparent health. Most other rooms served as storage or were simply unused. A poorly equipped gym was obviously utilized often. On the farthest wall from the elevator, he found bullet holes within a target drawn in sharpie. Resourceful, the human had taken advantage of the length of the compound to practice shooting.

The elevator led to the surface but also to a lower level which he decided to explore as well. It was an identical space as the one above but with regular pillars instead of rooms. The luminosity there was disagreeable because plants needed the full range of the light spectrum. This was how she had grown all this food. Plastic barrels containing a wide variety of plants filled the entire space. Some were even small fruit trees. The air was heavy with the scent of wet dirt and sap.

Back in the control room, Quinlan stood in front of the monitors and the detailed map of the compound and the surrounding area. He committed them to memory then turned his attention toward a lone laptop displaying a list of dates. He cliqued on a file dated six months prior. The smooth voice of the woman came through the small speakers. 

"I finished with all the soil downstairs...it took forever. It will also take forever for the first plants to produce anything..."

There were a few moments of static then the voice starting again.

"The seeds look good but I am not gonna wait around for a stupid tree to grow...on a road nearby all the houses are empty but I'm sure I've seen some potted trees..."

He cliqued randomly in the list of dates. 

"... truck... how can they even drive? It makes no sense. If they turn me will I suddenly be able to drive an eighteen wheeler? Shit...I forgot to soak beans yesterday...lentils will do...Jules! It's not cooked!...you moron..." The voice was interrupted by a loud alarm which had also been recorded. He paused the playback and silence fell on the compound. The bedroom door slammed open and the woman stood there, confused with a gun in one hand.

-        “What are you doing?”

Quinlan faced her without an ounce of remorse. Part of him felt vindicated and convinced she had lied to him earlier.

-        “Who is Jules?”

She blushed and walked to the desk. With unnecessary violence, Lexi pulled a drawer open and extracted a large binder full of loose pages. She tossed it in front of him and the paper sheets spilled. They were sketches and drawings of a large tabby cat. Some had contexts placing the pet in her bedroom or the kitchen. Most had tape on their corners as if they had once adorned the walls of her bedroom.

-“I see.”

He simply said and turned to her. Quinlan did not feel foolish or guilty, his doubts had been perfectly reasonable and justified.

- “She died a month ago.” 

Her nostrils flared from righteous anger and her eyes turned glassy. She closed them then exhaled deeply. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

- “I understand that you don't get to survive as you did by being careless about who you associate with...I get that. But...There is nothing of interest on those recordings. At best you'll learn about gardening…”

She grabbed the mouse and opened another folder with the same list of dates. 

- “Knock yourself out. But at least stick to the transcripts so you don't wake me up.” 

She walked to her room again and added:

- “If you have questions, just ask. I have literally no reason to lie to you.”

- “Good night.” Said Quinlan as she closed the door.

He understood her rage at his intrusion, however from such a tiny human, it felt out of place. The light footsteps headed away, then there was the rushing of fabric on fabric. Lexi tossed and turned in her bed and it became obvious that she would not fall asleep anytime soon. Allowing himself to give in to the exhaustion of the past months, he retrieved his possessions from sickbay and went to lie down on the bed in the vacant room.

[croatian-nt]

Mario’s snippet

I recommend reading through my high school AU masterlist(in the notes since tumblr fucked uf links) first for this to make sense 

Word Count: 2293

Warnings: again, some violence, fighting(do @domo-no-domo-yes and I have a thing for injuring main characters and them having anger issues? Perhaps. 

Notes: So this is Mario’s introduction post. Some things you should know about him:

he’s the star striker of the local football club

has an unexpected interest in fashion

Is 18 and in fourth year

Seems very intimidating to most people a lot admire him but keep him at arm’s length

his best friends are Dejan, Mo and Leona(important to note mo and Leona are gender swapped football players. You’ll learn more about them later ;) )

Also big shoutout for @wordpuddle as always for editing our works 

That’s about it. Enjoy :)

For Mario, it was bad enough that he had to be stuck in detention instead of going out or playing football. This wasn’t his first time, and he knew that he technically broke school rules, but the fact that he got detention and Santini got away scot-free for doing something at least equally bad just pissed him off. However, hearing the news that another student was going to join him in detention only made his mood worse.  

He knew that he was supposed to be thankful. Less work and an extra pair of hands did sound like more than a good deal. However, he did not exactly like the idea of someone bothering him as he worked. Also, even if he was supposed to have someone who was going to be serving detention alongside him, they seemed to be running late, and Mario didn't plan on getting in more trouble because he waited for that idiot.

Mumbling “no good” under his breath, he wiped some sweat off his brow, soaked his rag and squeezed out the excess water. Just as he was about to start cleaning the first table, the canteen doors swung open with a loud bang.

Mario quickly turned around, nearly jumping as he was startled by the sudden loud noise. His eyes fell on a certain smirking, blond punk, who looked him up and down as if they never met each other before… even though both of them knew otherwise.

“Not you again.” Mario groaned, fighting the urge to rub his forehead. His detention companion was none other than Domagoj Vida - inarguably the most notorious troublemaker in the entire school, and all too proud of that fact.

Vida's shit-eating smirk only grew at that as he approached Mario with intent, like a panther stalking its prey. Still, Mario refused to budge. Instead, he put down his rag and returned the smirk with a grim, hard expression of his own. He wasn't about to be intimidated that easily by a guy who wore black eyeliner and had a stupid lip piercing.

“Aww...did you miss me, Mr. No Good?” Vida's eyes playfully flashed. Mario rolled his eyes and curled his lip with disapproval. If the idiot thought he could get under his skin quickly, he was in for a rude awakening.

“No, I didn't miss someone who almost ran me over with his bike because he doesn’t know how to fucking drive.” Mario gritted his teeth together, stopping the rest of the insult from pouring out. If he went on, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he knew that things would inevitably end up as more than a fight with just words. He also knew that while Vida was shorter than he was, he wasn’t a pushover.

He turned around to face the table again, huffing. He couldn’t believe that he was going to be spending detention with Vida for the next month. From the way the punk was dressed, it seemed as if he didn’t even care that he was supposed to be at detention and was going to be cleaning for a couple of hours. In contrast to Mario’s own simple navy tank top and faded jeans, Vida wore his usual all-black - ripped skinny jeans, combat boots, fingerless gloves, at least two necklaces, and a black leather jacket with spikes adorning its collar and shoulders.

“Just leave your stuff and start cleaning...and for fuck’s sake, wear something more practical next time. This is detention, we’re supposed to be working, not fooling around. This is not the time for your stupid pranks unless you want even more detention time.”

He could hear Vida laugh, and he looked back. The blond had taken off his jacket, his tattooed arms in full view now that he was just in his black shirt, and was now pulling his long hair back into a high ponytail. He then gathered the rest of the things he had taken off and set them aside. Mario tried to fight the urge to roll his eyes or say something sarcastic as he tore his eyes away and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“What did you do to end up here? You don't seem like the sort to enjoy having a bit of fun anyway.” Mario didn't have to turn around to know that the fucker probably still had that stupid smirk plastered on his face as he tried to get a rise out of him.

“Who the hell said that it was a stupid prank that landed me here? It’s none of your business.” Mario’s patience was wearing thin, though he didn’t exactly have much of it, to begin with. Vida’s remark, however, made him recall the events of two days ago that led to him getting himself into trouble.

========

“Santini, enough!” Mario roared as Ivan Santini’s fist connected with the jaw of Alen, one of the new recruits. A sickening crack followed, and Mario swiftly grabbed his fellow striker’s wrist, gripping it tightly.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! What does this stupid hazing achieve? What we need are uninjured players to win our games! Are you trying to fucking sabotage us?!” His eyes blazed with anger and hearing Alen whimper in pain, as well as seeing all the other new team members’ bruises only made him more furious. Santini, however, only returned Mario’s glare with a cool expression of his own.

“How many times have I told you that these harmless little exercises are meant to build character? Football is a man’s sport, Mandžukić, and wimpy little boys don’t belong on this team. Do you understand?” Santini’s smile was cold and cruel as he carelessly regarded the players in the locker room. “Or are you too soft?”

Santini laughed, but Mario cut it short by throwing a hard punch at his face, followed by another. Santini’s rough hands grabbed Mario by the neck, but Mario ducked, before elbowing Santini in the gut. He stumbled back, and Mario kicked him down. Before Mario could make another move, however, another voice cut them off.

“MANDŽUKIĆ! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” Mario, realizing that they were in the school’s locker room rather than the club locker room, looked towards the doorway and saw Coach Lopetegui. The man’s expression was stormy and his arms were folded. Two bad signs. Rather than defend himself, Mario remained silent, his face hard. Frankly, Santini deserved it.

“To the headmaster’s office, Mandžukić! This is not proper behaviour befitting a star striker!” Coach Lopetegui ordered, clearly meaning business.

========

Mario noticed Vida glancing pointedly at his bandaged knuckles, and it almost looked like something akin to understanding flashed through his eyes. It was a brief moment, however, as Vida’s usual smirk crept back on his face a few seconds later.  

“No stupid prank huh? I knew you weren't the fun type. Shame. Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like you though.” Vida remarked, flashing a brief, impish grin before proceeding to grab one of the rags hanging above the sink.

“Just because you probably got detention for a stupid prank yourself, doesn’t mean I did. Let me guess, were you the one responsible for the beers?” Mario had heard about Mr. Čačić’s outburst after finding beer cans glued to the walls of his office. It was difficult not to, actually, considering that Mario was in the chemistry laboratory, which was right next to Mr. Čačić’s office when the old man discovered that somebody had vandalised his space. The math teacher was known for his short temper after all.

“Hmm...what makes you think that, Mr. No Good?” Vida chuckled as he held his rag under the running tap until it was soaked, then proceeded to choose a table to begin working on.

Mario expected Vida to keep talking and that he will have to try and mute him out during the whole detention but to his surprise, Vida pulled out headphones, quickly selected a song from his playlist and continued cleaning. Mario heard the faint yet distinctive beat of aggressive, hard rock music.  

He wondered exactly how high had Vida set the volume. Even without wearing headphones, Mario could already hear the loud, heavy music. He also wondered exactly how loud it was for someone listening through headphones. He also wondered if Vida could even hear his own thoughts with such loud music. Assuming that of course, Vida was capable of thinking for extended periods of time, which he highly doubted.

As the time ticked, Mario couldn’t help but harbour suspicion towards the blond punk, and he regularly looked over his shoulder to see what Vida was up to. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him felt as if he was going to spring a trap on him anytime soon. Yet, for some reason, nothing happened. Aside from offering up his headphones a couple of times, and as well as the occasional grin, there was absolutely no indication that Vida was about to do anything that Mario was dreading.

By the end of their detention, Mario found himself seriously considering his impression of Domagoj Vida to be partly wrong. He seemed rather different from his usual, annoying prankster self, at least while serving detention. Of course, part of him was still reluctant to accept this. That part of him was giving him that nagging feeling that, if what he knew and heard about Vida was true, Vida wasn’t going to let him get away that easily.

“I guess I should be going now. See you around on Monday, Mr. No Good?” Vida had shrugged his leather jacket back on and was now buckling his choker around his neck. Mario noticed that the blond was smiling warmly, but he could’ve sworn that he noticed a hint of mischief in his smile. It was fleeting, but Mario was certain that he saw something. His suspicions only heightened when Vida swiftly took his leave. Wondering if something had happened when his back was turned, he reached for his bag and unzipped it. He dug around for his wallet, his keys and his phone, and when he found them, he was secretly relieved to see all of them there, and that none of them had been stolen. He still checked the rest of his bag’s contents, however, not fully trusting the punk. Nothing had been touched either.

Grumbling to himself, he slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, hung his rag near the sink and left the canteen. When he reached the parking lot, the first thing he noticed was that Vida’s motorcycle was still in its usual spot. He furrowed a brow, remembering all too well that Vida had left earlier than him.

Mario then went over to his own car, thinking that perhaps, Vida was probably just squatting and drinking a beer somewhere in the parking lot. What he didn't expect to see was a familiar black-clad blond leaning over his car and attempting to place a cracked-glass prank sticker on his windshield.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, letting annoyance slip into his voice. This caught Vida by surprise and nearly made him fall into the car, as it didn’t have its roof put on. Mario couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit amused at the sight, as well as a bit proud of himself for catching Vida in the act. He bit back his laughter, however.

Vida caught his balance and momentarily leaned against the red Bentley to steady himself. He then quickly turned around, the sticker still in his hands. There was a look of surprise on his face as if he did not expect Mario to show up that quickly.

“...Decorating?” Vida’s smirk was its usual cocky self, but Mario knew better. He saw a hint of sheepishness in Vida’s expression, one that someone who had been caught in the act would have.

“Nice try. Give me that.“ Mario quickly snatched the sticker from Vida's hands, tucking it into one of the pockets of his bag. He gave Vida a dark, warning look. “Now get lost before I decide to run you over like you almost did to me.”

Vida rolled his eyes but Mario could see his pierced lip twitching in amusement and the corners of his mouth raising. As if his look had not fazed him the least bit. In fact, Vida was looking into his eyes a bit too intently. As if he was intrigued, rather than intimidated. It was something that Mario wasn’t exactly used to. Most people looked at him with equal parts respect and intimidation, but here was someone who didn’t. Someone who wasn’t intimidated by him, for some reason.

“Just wanted to make your life a bit more fun, Mr. No Good. But I guess you’re still too boring...or at least, making a valiant effort to resist my efforts,” Vida laughed as he threw a mock salute in his direction before they parted ways.

Mario shook his head before getting into the car. That guy really was as much trouble as he originally assumed. And yet, why did Mario take his words as a challenge? He knew that he could’ve easily just ignored them and act maturely, yet here he was, thinking about his next move in the strange but oddly exciting game that Vida had unwittingly started. The thought of wiping the smirk off Vida’s face rather appealed to him.

As he drove home, he momentarily looked at the cracked glass sticker he had swiped, and an idea wormed its way into his mind. He was going to have to head to school early on Monday. If Vida dared mess around with him, he wasn’t going to make things easy, or go down without a fight.

The game was on.

Taglist:

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@synne-sol

@loodalo

@croatianstan

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@marice-marice

@pinessa

@igecko1320

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@childsmokers

[queenofallcorgis]

The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth (Chapter One)

Summary: Although the Association of Supernatural Species (yes...A.S.S.) brought together all the various magical beings for conferences they didn’t much mingle. At least not until Phil met Dan. Pastel!Vampire!Phil and Punk!Fairy!Dan

Warnings: Violence, smut, noncon touching in later chapters.

Title is from A Midsummer’s Night Dream

The whole conference was just ridiculous.

 Booths lined the hotel ballroom, clashing horribly with the gaudy carpet and wallpaper. Their bright colors and signs beckoned to the milling crowd and all Phil wanted to do was flee.

 Wolfsbane Wearhouse!

 Patricia’s Potions! An elixir to get her!

 O-Neg Subscription! Five Percent Discount for Every Century!

 The Association of Supernatural Species (yes, they actually used the acronym A.S.S.) had been around for centuries. Millennia of wars and violence between different supernatural sects had finally ended for the most part in an agreement.

 They would work together to keep themselves from being noticed by the humans and to make life easier on all of them. The old tensions still lingered but there was an actual attempt to live peacefully.

 That was how the annual conventions began. Every coven, group, pack and herd would send a few representatives as a show of good faith. There was a resigning of the peace treaty and then the marketplace and sessions would open.

 Phil glanced through the brochure, mint colored nails tapping on the map. He knew he looked a little off among the gothically dressed (gaudy) vampires that were sent from their covens. Instead of the red costume jewelry and faux velvet capes he was dressed in sky blue trousers and a light pink jumper.

 The blue streaked through his fringe completed the look along with the lacquered daisy pins along the starched white collar. He didn’t look particularly terrifying but hey, pastels had been popular in the 50’s.

 “The mermaid table is over there,” a snotty girl sneered at him at the blood drive booth. She flipped her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and rolled her overly made up eyes.

 “Doll, I’m here to renew my coven’s subscription,” he flashed his fangs. “We’re the South London Coven, haven’t you heard of us?”

 The girl paled slightly, obviously not having thought he was a potential customer. “Oh…I…”

 “And I can smell the newness on you. You’re too young to be sassing your elders,” he took the clipboard from her hands. “I’m expecting a discount as well. Think of it as your payment from this little lesson in humility.”

 She blushed so bright he could even see it behind her caked on white makeup and scribbled something onto the order form. The rest of the transaction was completed in silence although Phil did give her a sweet smile as he handed back over the clipboard and accepted the receipt with a friendly goodbye.

 When he turned around he met the eye of a young man along the other side of the booths. The man was just as tall as him, a smug smile on his face highlighted by the snakebite piercings in his bottom lip. He also had a piercing through his eyebrow and one through his septum.

 The look continued with threads of colors running through his hair, making his fringe (similar to Phil’s) look like a rainbow. A dark leather jacket covered a simple black t-shirt and he had on ripped black jeans and spiked doc martins. Delicate black tattoos curled up his neck and across his hands.

 “Such sass,” he said as soon as Phil stepped away from the booth.

 There wasn’t any tell tale signs of what the man was. He wasn’t a vampire or werewolf and the scent wasn’t obvious enough to Phil. The man did have a strange light to his caramel eyes, making them almost glow.

 “People should respect their elders,” Phil quipped back and got a grin in response.

 “Completely agree,” the man leaned towards him to take a look at his name tag. “Philip Lester, Vampire Coven of London.”

 Phil cracked a smile and reached over to grab the man’s name tag, turning it around so he could read it. “Thank you, Daniel Howell, Fae Association of London. Fae?”

 “Mmhmm,” Daniel nodded and shrugged slightly. “The technical term for a group of fairies is a frollick but we all agreed that it probably wouldn’t be the most respected.”

 “Pardon me but you don’t look much like a fairy,” Phil noted and the other man grinned, letting out a laugh.

 “Excuse me Vampire Barbie,” he teased. “We go by a lot of names. We’re the fae, the sidhe, the goodly folk, or the wee folk to start. Legends and tales kind of got us all mixed up. Plus, you don’t get to be the only one to break stereotypes.”

 Something about the fae drew Phil in. “And what booths or talks are you joining?”

 “I’m mainly here for the coupons and free shirts,” Daniel raised the plastic bags in his hands. “But also for the talk about magical herbology and star readings. Which is…starting now. So, Philip Lester, I find you interesting. Care to exchange numbers?”

 “Why not? The whole point of these things is to network right?” Phil handed over his phone and got a laugh in return.

 “A sliding keyboard? I haven’t seen these in forever!” Daniel grinned and tapped in his number. “Very retro.”

 “Cold hands,” Phil wiggled his fingers. “I don’t have the electroconductivitiy in my skin that makes the iPhone work.”

 The fae hummed and nodded, tapping in his number before handing it back. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around.”

 With a slight hop to his step, Daniel turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. A smile spread across Phil’s face and he looked down at his phone.

 Dan Howell.

[notgonnarememberthis]

Our May

Hello! I’m so sorry for the sort of hiatus I have taken over the past two weeks. I have honest to god fallen into the most unfortunate series of bad news possible. Starting from my ex-best friend’s backstabbing to rejection letters I have not mentally been in the best place as of late. However, with the help of Em, Gwyn, Riley and a couple of irl friends I’m getting back onto my feet again. I’m hoping to have A Better Tomorrow updated soon as well but I was inspired to write a little headcannon/theory based off of the next episode’s stills and promos and basically what I hope goes down. I hope you guys enjoy. I just want to say a quick “I love you.” to Em, Gwyn, and Riley. I don’t know where I’d be right now without you guys.

Her heart thuds heavily against her chest, lungs heaving for air as she runs. She can feel them stretching a compressing against her ribs, she could feel the pounding of her own feel off of the wood, she could feel the way her throat constricted with every concentrated breath. How is this not real? How is she not real? She could feel pain incredibly spiking through her arm. The headache builds at the edges of her temples. How is that even possible with what she is? She doesn’t survive off of vital functions yet the phantom sensations of these organs torture her paralyzed mind.

“May here!” Phil dashes into the library holding the door open for her to duck underneath his arm. He shuts the door behind them grabbing a nearby flag to barricade between the handles of the door to jam it shut. “Are we the first ones here?” He asks, his hand poised and ready on the pistol strapped to his side.

“Looks like we beat them.” She smiles slightly. She shouldn’t find satisfaction in this, in defeating the Watchdogs. That’s not her sensation to feel. She’s not real.

The Watchdogs had taken one of the Koenigs hostage, trying to torture him for where he had hidden the Darkhold. What did Nadeer want with the Darkhold? Was there some sort of secret hidden in it’s pages to ride of the inhumans? The thought threw ice down her spine. These sensations bother her more and more as time passes. It shouldn’t be her here. It should be May.

Through a series of convoluted hints Coulson had tracked the Darkhold down to a library. Of course of all places a library was where it had to be hidden where anybody could stumble upon it in any given minute.

“I’ve got it.” Coulson smiles standing up straight. A brown satchel is clutched in his hands, bearing the weight of what could possibly be the world in its contents. A book much too powerful for it’s own good. Her feet carry her forwards without her consent until she is directly in front of him. Wordlessly, he opens the brown leather bag showing her for proof. Sure enough the book glared back up at her teasingly. Her body was no longer in her control as she reached out to take it.

Realization settles over her like cold ice. Fear gripping her from head to toe. This was why the Watchdogs wanted the book.

“Nadeer is working with Radcliffe.” She whispers horrified. This was her mission. She was programmed to retrieve the Darkhold for Radcliffe.

“What? How do you know?”

Because so am I. “I-” Take it away from me. “I-” You’re not safe with me.

“May what is it?”

I’m not her. “Radcliffe is building LMDs, soldiers if you may. If she gets the Darkhold for him which AIDA,” and I, “wasn’t able to do, he’ll build her an army.”

“Son of a bitch.” He whispers shaking his head. “We have to get this somewhere safe I-”

His words are cut off with a loud pounding noise. Someone is trying to break into the room. They’ve found them.

“Take it.”

“Phil-”

“I can boost you up through the window. You’re much quicker than I am anyways.” He smiles passing the satchel over to his grip. Her entire body freezes, tensing as her programming starts to whirl. Punch him and escape. That’s all she needs to do.

“No!” Melinda cries out against her programming. She can’t hurt him. She won’t hurt him. Phil looks at her startled, kind eyes sparkling with worry. She wants to lean forwards and kiss him. Anything to take that damned look off of his face. He shouldn’t be worrying about him. She’s not who she should be worried about. She would only hurt him.

“Melinda I trust you more than anyone. I need you to get out of here and destroy this.”

“I can’t.” She whispers. His fingers wind through her hair pulling her face up to meet his.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Phil please I-” A crash echoes through the room as the door is separated from it’s hinges. It’s already too late. Four heavy footsteps, about five seconds before they would be discovered at the back of the library.

One, she grips Phil by the collar taking a breath of encouragement. She just wanted to memorize every single part of his face one last time. Two, she pulls him to her, her lips colliding with his. She just had to know how they would feel before she does this. Three, his hands fall on her waist. It’s better than she ever could have imagined. More than she ever could have dreamed. Four, she pushes him away loading her gun. Five, she pushes Phil behind her as the bullets begin to spray.

She fires her shots as carefully as she’s trained. Three bullets lodge in only two skulls. Phil grips her waist tugging her backwards behind his shield sparing them the spray. It’s already too late.

The air leaves her lungs as three bullets impact with her body. Her programming is far away in her mind now. The satchel slips from her fingers as she clutches her stomach, crimson pouring onto her fingers. A small whimper leaves her lips as her body falls slump against Coulson.

“May?” He asks panicked. Her weight drags him down with her, he’s cradling her upper half in his lap now yelling desperately into the comms. “I need medical now! Agent down!” The entire ground trembles with realization of a force. Melinda can practically hear the broken cry now as Daisy wipes out all of the Watchdogs in one fair swoop.

A woosh echoes through the halls as a startled Elena stands above them.

“Let me take her.” Elena says. “I can get her there quickly.”

“No. We can’t move her. We could make things worse.”

“But sir.”

“Take the Darkhold. Run as fast as you can. Hide it.” Phil commands passing the satchel to Elena. The young woman bows her head for a minute. The whispers of a praying passing through her calm lips. May lets out a shuddered breath which transfers to another whimper. “Elena, go.”

“Yes, Sir.” With another whoosh the woman is gone once more. Phil frantically removes his jacket, pressing it to the bleeding wounds. There’s so much pain.

“I need you to stay awake for me Melinda. Just listen to my voice.” He begs. She briefly wonders if he had begged Rosalind in the same tone. Holding her as she took her last breaths.

Glass shatters around them as a figure leaps through the window dramatically.

“No.” Daisy whimpers rushing towards the two of them. She collapses on her knees on the opposite side of her, the ground beneath them shaking ever so slightly.

“Breathe Daisy.” The girl nods with tear-laden eyes. She smiles sadly combing her fingers through her hair. Melinda began to feel tired, this couldn’t be normal. She never slept anymore. She had shrugged it off as night terrors before but now…

“Keep your eyes open Lin. Help will be here soon.” She needed to tell them. They had to know it wasn’t her. May wasn’t dying. She was.

The bullets must have pierced a vital portion of her mechanics. She wasn’t built like AIDA was. She wasn’t meant to withstand these sorts of shots. Her mechanics were messy, quickly assembled. She wasn’t meant to be a shield she was meant to be a distraction. An experiment to be tested. A tool to get what they truly needed. She could feel herself beginning to shut down. She had to move quickly.

Melinda takes Daisy’s hand softly. The younger girl lets out a heartbreaking sob. She has to end this. She has to end their pain.

Melinda slides Daisy’s hand under her own shirt, guiding her fingers to the wound. The girl tries to tug her fingers away but Melinda’s strength keeps them there. She presses her fingers into the shot. The girl startles at the feeling of cold metal. A series of emotions flash in her eyes before she speaks.

“You’re not May.” She whispers. Hope, anger, devastation, fear. The last thing she sees before her vision goes dark is the anger settling over Coulson’s face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Phil startles at Daisy’s words echoing through the large library.

“You’re not May.” Phil rips his jacket off of the wounds, startled and angry. His eyes trace over the wounds feeling as if his own heart were beginning to tear out of his chest. Sure enough glimpses of silver sparkled up from beneath the skin. This wasn’t his May.

“Where is she?” It’s already too late though. The figures eyes are staring unseeingly up to the rooftops. His heart catches in his throat. This is what it looked like. This was what it had looked like when May had died. “Answer me!” He shakes it angrily. How could he not have known? How could he not have known this wasn’t May?

“Coulson she’s gone.”

“We have to find her. She has to know.” Phil states panicked.

“We’ll have Fitz scan her hard drive when we get back to the base but for now, I don’t think she knows anything.”

“Why?”

“Because she looked almost scared. I don’t think she knew, not for a while that is.” Daisy sighs.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Hey. We’ll find her.” Daisy states grabbing his shoulder.

“How do we know she’s not-”

“She’s not. Knowing May she’s probably fighting like hell to get out of wherever she is right now.” Coulson pushes himself to his feet making his way quickly out of the library. “Where are you going?” She calls after him.

“I’m going to find our May.”