#you insult the earth herself by saying “just brown

[sliced-grapes]

@thegroundhogdidit

What's all the commotion for ed's eyes? Aren't they just brown?

I'm too angry to even respond to this properly. "Just brown???" You cannot be serious. Followers, please destroy them.

[paytato435]

Chapter 1: After Dark

Containment Reflections

Today, Earth is different.

Billions of people are waking up to see the news: we are not alone in the universe, and our peers are not so welcoming.

It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who's picked up a history book; intelligent creatures are cruel and cannibalistic by design. We are narcissists, everyone. 

Imagine, for a moment, the damage these creatures could have wrought upon us if they had been successful in their endeavors. This is only the smallest sample of what could be waiting for us out there among the stars, their fangs bared and knives sharpening. How much time do we have before they return? How long before something else catches us unprepared?

The data is still incomplete, but the conclusion is all too clear: we must not allow this to happen again.

Unfortunately, despite the subject's love for baseless insults and threats, she herself has not communicated to us anything useful. All we have is her unrelenting cries of misery. We've considered putting her down just to shut her up (we haven't found anything inside we could guess are vocal cords), but living samples are far too valuable, especially considering we only have the one.

Biologically speaking, her constitution and regenerative abilities are astounding. Perhaps even more astounding is what has prevented her from regenerating. An unknown substance found in her missing eye has prevented the organ from regrowing. All other appendages, except for tissue samples we took from her brain, could be replaced. What substance had so irrecoverably damaged my specimen? Where can we find more?

And then there are the… mutants. The world is also changing with their arrival. The yokai that had lived for so long hiding in the shadows are slithering to the surface, making themselves known for the first time in hundreds of years. We know they've been there, of course, but one particularly devious mind of theirs has actually produced what could be another potential solution to this extraterrestrial dilemma. 

Unfortunately, there is no clear path forward to obtaining these four exceedingly valuable creatures without leaving a trail. Patience and observation is necessary. Until an opportunity presents itself, I am here, entertaining the thoughts of a deluded, xenocidal monster. For now, that is enough.

After Dark

“Marina, we are not walking all the way to the park from here! We should head home.”

“Dad please? It’s my birthday!”

“Yeah Doug! It’s Marina’s birthday!” Angel pouted, throwing her arm over Marina’s shoulders.

“And it’s gorgeous out!” Marina put her free hand to her hip, her silver bangles clinking together.

Doug sighed. He knew if he didn’t let them go he would never hear the end of it. Marina had a smile that could melt anyone’s tough exterior, not that Doug had one in the first place. Maybe it had to do with her round face and big brown eyes. Or it was the constant way she bounced as she moved. Her mother often compared her to a little rabbit. She was definitely acting like one now.

“You know it’s going to take twice as long to get home from there, right?”

“Because we’re already halfway there!” Marina smiled, seeing the fight leaving her dad’s eyes.

She spun out from under Angel’s arm and started dancing her way down the street.

“Let’s go Elphaba!” She called back to Angel.

Angel, Marina’s best friend since middle school, seemed at odds with Marina’s vibe, until you saw them together. She was usually cool and laid back, but when Marina pushed her buttons they were as chaotic and playful as kids half their age.

“I’m Elphaba?” Angel asked incredulously, but jogged to catch up with her best friend. Doug lingered behind at a distance, texting his wife that they’d be out a little longer than expected.

“Are you trying to say you’re GAH-linda? Give me a break! You only have friends in school because you hang out with me. Otherwise you’d have your face glued to a book all day.”

Marina did a little spin and ended by pointing her finger right at Angel's studded nose.

“You… will… beeee….”

“Popular!” They both sang together. “You’re going to be POP-yoooo-LAR!”

Angel’s voice was anything but what her name would suggest. Marina didn’t know half the words, but they made it up as they went along, eventually making their way to Central Park.

“Dad, what did you think of the show?!” Marina asked as she plopped herself into a swing. Her brown curls bounced as she fell into the seat.

Doug’s face lit up. “It was fantastic! The set was very cool.”

“Of course you like the steampunk stuff,” Angel rolled her eyes, joining her friend on the adjacent swing and tucking her raven hair behind her ears. “Hey, think you’re gonna try the backflip again, Marina?”

“Girl, you know my backflip is flawless,” Marina scoffed, kicking off the ground.

“Oh really? I haven’t seen it in at least a year,” Angel narrowed her eyes. “Surely it can’t be that good.”

Doug rolled his eyes and began picking out pictures from the show to post to Facebook. The girls tried in vain to somehow swing higher than each other before each trying to show the other up with precarious dismounts. Doug wasn’t concerned- they’d done this a million times before, and Marina knew she’d never hear the end of it if she twisted her ankle and had to be carried all the way home.

No, Doug trusted his daughter. But… 

Swish.

Doug stopped scrolling through pictures and looked up.

Huh. He thought he had heard something.

Was it the wind?

It was late, there wasn’t really anybody else around. In fact, they’d probably get in trouble if a cop drove by and saw people out here after dark. Was he setting a bad example?

Swish.

There it was again. Doug jumped to his feet and looked around.

“Everything alright, Dad?” Marina asked, flipping over her swing and masterfully sticking the landing.

“We shouldn’t be out here, sweetheart,” Doug tucked his phone away. “We can come back another time.”

“But we just got here!”

Doug gave his daughter the look. Marina deflated.

“Ok, we’ll go,” she relented.

Angel dismounted from the swing on the backswing, and rolled her eyes. Doug could see her thoughts loud and clear. Adults are no fun.

Well, she would just have to get over it. Her parents would kill him if anything happened to her.

He was on edge the whole walk home. It was as if something in the air had changed. There wasn’t any wind, the weather was fine. Was it humid? Doug checked to see if his wife had texted him back. She hadn’t.

“So, what classes are you taking this semester, Angel?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the unease.

“I’m taking Biology 2! We get to dissect a cat!”

“Oh,” That didn’t help Doug at all. “Lovely.”

“And PE, and Geometry… Marina, you're taking Algebra 2 though aren’t you?”

Marina nodded.

“You’re so smart. I-”

Swish.

“Do you guys hear that?” Doug interrupted.

Angel and Marina looked at Doug with concern.

“Is something wrong, Dad?”

Doug looked around, but there was nothing.

“We should have gone straight home.”

Marina reached out and took her dad’s hand.

They didn’t talk the rest of the way home, and Doug didn’t relax until they were safely inside the apartment. He was grateful they didn’t have to take Angel home tonight. She had already gotten permission to sleep over.

He decided to turn in early. All the doors were locked, the girls were safe, and his wife was reading in the living room. She would probably be up for a few more hours, the night owl that she was. He gave her a quick kiss goodnight and ascended the stairs to their bedroom. He could hear the girls chatting away in the kitchen, talking about the musical, school, and field hockey…

He shut the door behind him and made his way over to the window. He didn’t think there would be anything but…

There was.

He saw it only for a second, but just under the streetlight at the end of the street he caught movement. There was no way, it didn’t make any sense.

Well, he’d heard some weird stories coming up these days. Half-animal people were supposedly appearing around town. He thought maybe it was related to the hysteria the other day. The “alien invasion.” Surely it was nonsense. There couldn’t actually be aliens.

But he could have sworn he saw a long, reptilian tail sliding through the streetlight’s glow and into the shadows. Gators in New York were an urban legend. Surely he was just psyching himself out. 

He closed the blinds and turned away from the window. He crossed the room and stood in front of the glass cabinet where he kept his small collection of antiques. He opened up the door on the side and gingerly took out his favorite World War One antique.

Sometimes when he was stressed it helped to hold onto something, and for some weird reason, holding his great-grandfather’s trench knife did the trick. He probably should take better care of it, honestly. He shouldn’t be touching it with his bare hands. Hell, it should probably be in a museum. But Doug and his family were practical people. If you couldn’t enjoy something, why have it?

He ran his thumb along the handle. If this protected his family over a hundred years ago, surely it could help keep his mind at ease now.

Ok, that was probably dumb. It was a knife, not a therapist. He put the blade back in the cabinet and buried himself in his sheets. He didn’t know how his family put up with such an anxious dumbass.

The Essay

I don’t belong here. The thought hadn’t really set in until maybe the 3rd day after all this stuff went down. That was when all the hype started to settle. We were all over the news. Some networks loved us, we were heroes. Others were grateful, but concerned. Who were the Mad Dogs? April did an interview with the local tv station, and it went VIRAL. “They’re my brothers, they’re my family. I’m just grateful we’re all safe.” That sound byte has been bouncing through my head and playing on every news station in the country, every radio station, and of course, it's been remixed all over social media in cute formats of people just… appreciating each other? I’m kind of addicted to the warmth of it all. I haven’t felt this happy in a long time. And yet…

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I tried to, I really did. But I just kept lying there, convincing myself over and over in my head that everything was ok now. I don’t remember when the idea crept into my mind, but I just feel like I’m waiting for the next bad thing to happen. It’s coming right? We get too comfortable, we get cocky, we get caught unaware, someone dies. My mom, Uncle Raphael, Donatello, Commander O’Neil… Master Michelangelo and Sensei. And while my brain tells me logically, the invasion is finally over, realistically, we are safe, emotionally, I could not bear to lose them all over again. I see them in my nightmares. Friends and family, new and old, here and gone, all of them suffering.

The one place I feel safe is here in the Lair. Underground is safe, underground is home. The guys have tried to take me topside a few times- to go shopping, see a movie, whatever. But I get this tight knot in my chest when I see the sky. I keep looking for the technodrome. I jump when I see the lights of an airplane fly over. I try to act like it’s fine, but to be honest I’d rather stay inside where it’s safe. Safe. I know it’s safe outside, it’s over… it’s over… but… 

it’s fucking not.

Doctor Feelings I

“Bro, that is a LOT.” Mikey noted, scratching his head.

Both he and Casey were sitting together in the kitchen of the Lair. The others had gone out to the zoo to see the new penguin exhibit, and once again, Casey had turned down the invite. To his surprise, Mikey decided to stay behind with him.

“Well, I thought you’d actually write more but like…” Mike glances over at the dysfunctional teen. Casey is staring at a bowl of plain ass oatmeal. It was one of the only things he could eat at first, after living off a diet of leaves and rats for several years. The pizza after the invasion had left him fucked up for hours. He’d tried one of Mikey’s lemon bars yesterday after dinner, but he was still afraid of pushing his luck.

“What do you mean?”

“How do I put it…” Mikey waved his bandaged arms around as if he could summon the words. “I thought you’d write about more than just the invasion.”

“Did you want me to write about something else?”

“No, no!” Mikey shook his head. “You can write about whatever you want.”

“But then you’d read it,” Casey grumbled.

Mikey looks away and purses his lips.

“Yeah, I guess that was the point.”

“I don’t know what to do with the future, I can’t talk about the past,” Casey reminded him, standing up to put his bowl away.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember the spiel. Is that really for the best? I mean, it must be hard, knowing all this," Mikey gestures at the paper. "And not having anyone to talk to about it."

"Do you believe in destiny?"

Mikey looked a little surprised by the question.

"Come on, you're the mystic one here. Wouldn't you know?"

"I don't know," Mikey shrugged. "I haven't thought about it before."

"You've never thought about it, but you fulfilled the Hamato destiny when you defeated the Shredder, didn't you?"

"What's your point?" Mikey asked, crossing his arms.

"I suppose I wouldn’t call it destiny, because we did just alter the future the other day…. but I think there are some things here in this time that… would be very hard to change."

"Like global warming?"

"Uh, sure. I meant on a smaller scale, though."

"Oh."

"Maybe an example would work best," Casey sighed, tapping his spoon against his bowl.

"For the record, I'm bullshitting here; nothing I'm about to say is true."

Mikey nodded.

"Let's say, someone gets married in the future," Casey posed.

"Who gets married?!" Mikey shot up out of his seat excitedly. 

"This is a hypothetical! Pick anyone."

"April! I want April to get married!"

"Ok… let's say April gets married in the future. You'd be excited if I told you that, right?"

"Well yeah, I just said I'd like it to happen," Mikey caught himself. "… if that's what she wants, of course," he added quickly.

"Sure. It's a great thing. Now, would it make sense for me to call April right now and tell her who she is marrying and congratulate them on their future engagement?"

Mikey pursed his lips together.

"That'd be creepy, wouldn't it? She may not have even met this person, and now you're just… shipping them because that's what Future Boy said." He said 'Future Boy' as if he was some kind of mystical fortune teller.

"Same goes for how you die. Now, your death had… extenuating circumstances," Casey saw Mikey shift uncomfortably. "But like, if I told Raph he died falling down a flight of stairs he'd probably never use stairs ever again."

"Did Raph die falling down a flight of stairs? That'd be lame."

"Of course not." Casey crossed his arms.

Mikey flipped Casey's essay over.

"...flight of stairs…" he mumbled as he wrote.

"What are you doing?"

"Gathering intel," Mikey looked away.

Casey narrowed his eyes.

"I'm serious, Mikey. If you want to feel like you have control over your own life, it's better if I don't say anything."

"Maybe you should make some new friends then!" Mikey suggested. "Ones that you didn't know in the future, and then you can talk to them about your trauma!"

"I don't have trauma!"

Mikey blinked.

"Ok maybe a little," Casey sunk into his chair. "But it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, who'd want to be friends with me anyway. I can't even go outside."

"Sure you can, it'll just take some getting used to," Mikey smiled.

Well, he did smile, until he saw the look Casey gave him. Everyone had started calling it the ghost look. 

Casey would sometimes forget how to breathe when his family would do certain things. Little, dumb things that reminded him of the future past. Mikey's warm smile was one of them.

Even at the end of the world, Master Michelangelo always found a way to keep smiling.

“Your handwriting is immaculate by the way, did Donnie teach you that?” Mikey was making a conscious effort to change the subject.

“Yeah,” Casey shrugged. “He was always ripping into Sensei for his pretentious cursive notes, so he sat down and made sure mine was legible, ha.”

“So why is Donatello the only one without a prefix there? Uncle Raph, that’s cute. Of course I’m the badass mystic warrior Master.” Mikey wiggled his brow and smirks. “And Sensei is self-explanatory. What’s up with Donnie?”

Casey dropped his spoon in the sink as if it had burned him. He quickly fished it back up before putting it in the dishwasher.

“Oh, I must have left it off. You don’t need to read into it- he’s Uncle Donnie, yeah.” Mikey made that ‘I’m not buying it' face.

“It’s kind of hard to differentiate between you all when I think it out,” Casey sighed. “So in my head you guys are the short names and they’re the long ones now, unless I specify otherwise. I didn’t call him Donatello, that’d be like… calling Master Splinter, Yoshi.”

“Ew, I get it,” Mikey scrunched his face up.

"And I just… I just told you the less you know the better."

"I'm sorry."

There's a heavy silence for a minute. Maybe Casey should head back to his room; or he could go back to deconstructing the wreckage salvaged from the Turtle Tank for Donnie.

But neither of those things seemed to interest him, and he didn't want to leave Mikey feeling down like this. He'd been guilty of doing that around everyone recently.

“Mikey, are you really going to go to school?” If Mikey had chihuahua ears, they would have shot right up.

“Of course!” He grinned, squeezing Casey’s paper, and crinkling it. “Oh crap, sorry,” he straightens it out quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Casey waved it off, and sat back down at the table across from Mikey with a glass of water; the safest of liquids. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you'd want to, considering…”

“Times are changing, Casey Junior!” Mikey beamed, dancing in his seat. “You wrote it yourself, everyone loves us! And Pops is always grumbling how he wished we’d get an education.” He started rubbing the paper to his face like a teddy bear. “And there’s art class, I’ve always wanted to take a proper art class!”

Casey can’t help but smile; Mikey’s optimism was too infectious.

“You should come with us!” Mikey encouraged.

“With you? I… I don’t know,” Casey shrugged. “Donatello left me enough lessons to get me through college in any STEM degree I could ask for.”

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want?” Casey repeated. He hadn’t really considered that before.

“Yeah. Do you want to go into a STEM field?”

Casey chuckled to himself.

“I guess not. I think he was just projecting what he wanted onto me a bit. And I didn’t ever really have time to think about it. This-” Casey gestured all around him. “-didn’t exist for me. It wasn’t a planned thing. He made those lessons for fun and gave them to everyone who wanted to learn. God knows we needed as many educated people as we could get.”

Mikey nodded thoughtfully. “But what do you want?”

“Do you have any suggestions?” Casey asked.

“Really? Nothing?!” Mikey’s mouth gaped open in surprise.

“I don’t know what people did before the apocalypse, how am I supposed to answer that!” Casey shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe you could be a martial arts teacher!” Mikey’s eyes sparkled.

“And compare myself to Sensei everyday? I don’t think so. I did my best but… I don’t think I’m that great a fighter.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re great! I’ve seen you sparring with Leo.”

“I’ve got a long way to go,” Casey scratched the back of his head. “And I’m sure Master Splinter and Raph would still kick my ass.”

“I could see Raph being a teacher too,” Mikey smiled, giggling to himself.

“I could see that,” Casey agreed. “What other jobs are there? Like, ones you wouldn’t find people doing in the apocalypse. I know there’s cleaners and doctors and cooks, caretakers…”

“Zookeeper,” Mikey suggested. “Designated Penguin Patter.”

Casey sulked at the reminder. He wished he didn’t feel so anxious all the time.

Truth be told, it was embarrassing. Casey hadn’t felt this useless in a long time. He supposed he never had the opportunity to. The opportunity to feel afraid of the world around him. When push came to shove he was business as usual, but now that nobody was shoving him…

“I feel bad staying home again. And you’re missing out on it too, that’s not fair.”

“I chose to stay home,” Mikey tapped his fingers together. “But for you…”

“I told you already, I don’t want to go out. Well, I do but…”

“It’s scary.” 

Casey nodded.

“Is there anything that we could do to help make it less scary?”

“What could make the imaginary pink monsters around every corner go away?” Casey asked sarcastically.

“Have you tried grounding yourself? Like, reminding yourself where you are when you get scared?”

“How am I supposed to think about that when I’m scared?”

“Well if you don’t know when it’s going to get to be too much, but you’re afraid it will, do it preemptively. ‘I’m at the zoo, the invasion is over, I’m with my family, I’m safe…' that kind of thing.”

“I suppose I could try it,” Casey thought it over. “It sounds a bit exhausting though.”

“What makes the lair safe?” Mikey asked, seemingly out of curiosity more than anything else.

“Uh… it’s underground?” he answered as if it were obvious. “The Krang were always on the surface. This was the one place we could hide.”

“But you’d have to go out onto the surface sometimes, right?”

Casey nodded. “We’d go foraging for stuff. Supplies and such.”

“And did you panic there?”

No. Casey didn’t remember feeling that anxiety on the surface. Even though it was arguably more dangerous. What was the difference? He was with the turtles up topside, and he would go out on missions in teams of people foraging, sometimes with his sensei or Master Michelangelo. They were always on alert, and it was always quiet. 

That was it.

“We didn’t talk on the surface. Sounds would easily give away our location,” Casey explained.  “The noise up there…” he gestured to the surface. “… it's overwhelming. We also always brought our weapons, but you can’t bring those to the zoo.”

Mikey tapped his thumbs together again thoughtfully for a few seconds, thinking. 

“Well, maybe we could go out at night? For a late night walk? It’s quieter, and we don’t have to talk.”

‘We can still talk,” Casey signed. 

Mikey watched Casey move his hands with curiosity.

“Is that sign language?”

“Oh, you don’t sign yet?”

“I feel like I’m a comic book you’ve already read,” Mikey pouted, crossing his arms.

Casey laughs.

“I’m sorry. I could teach you?” He signed as he spoke. “In the future we had to communicate somehow in the field; it’s pretty fun, too. And then, maybe we could sign on walks outside. That could help.”

“Yes! Show me show me show me!” Mikey jumped out of his seat.

“You.. want… learn… sign?” Casey asked slowly out loud and with his hands.

“Want… learn… sign?” Mikey mimicked him. “Yes!”

“Yes!” Casey knocked his fist in the air.

Masterpost Next!

Notes: Thanks for checking out my fic! It's the first thing I've written in probably a decade, and I've never written fanfiction before so... I hope it's coherent lmao. At time of writing, I have about sixteen chapters planned out so far, and I don't have an ending, so we'll see where it goes haha!

[yandere-writer-momo]

Heart Shaped Wound: Yandere Various Baki x Reader

Chapter 3

Author’s note: the faster updates of updates.

Koreha Shinogi is now added to the love interest list.

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

    (Your name) hummed to herself as she sat on her hospital bed. She had gotten really lucky with her legs. The doctors said her legs would recover in a week or two so for now she’d be under one of their top doctors, Doctor Kureha Shinogi. 

     “I was able to reattach all the muscles back to your legs.” Doctor Kureha told the young woman with a smile. “The flexibility and strength you show cased in that fight were admirable. How are you able to be so flexible with such a soft, muscular body? I’ve never seen anything like it. Not to mention, your skin didn’t break open when Hanayama grabbed and pinched you with all his might.”

    (Your name) gave the doctor a small smile. “I lived in a small village in the Amazon rainforest. Everything there could kill you so I trained my body to be able to protect myself against anything that could potentially kill me.” (Your name)’s (eye color) eyes stated deeply into the doctor’s brown eyes. “The anaconda was just my favorite among all the predators. It’s one of the first creatures that tried to kill me.”

     “I am in now way trying to be unprofessional do inappropriate, this is a question for science, can I study you?” Doctor Koreha asked, (your name) trying not to laugh at how curious he was about her. 

    “Doctor you’re acting as if I’m some sort of biological anomaly. It’s just contortion, muscle memory, and growing up in a constant state of survival.” (Your name) stated. “You are looking into a  bit too much. I do appreciate your stare of professionalism. Thank you for the interest.”

     “Ah.” Doctor Koreha didn’t think she’d refuse him. Most women couldn’t resist his pretty face and his sweet words when he asked them something. A shame his charms didn’t work on her, but it’s not like he could try throughout her two week stay. “I will continue to persist then, until you accept my efforts for medical science.”

    “You’re goofy. I was trying not to directly say no since you’re a doctor but it seems I must be firm. No. Now leave me alone you quack.” Doctor Koreha had never been called goofy in his entire life, it was almost refreshing to be insulted by someone for a change.

    “You’re funny. I like you.”

    “I don’t like you. Now leave me alone.” 

     Doctor Koreha laughed, leaving the room before (your name) began to become more feisty. She was a hoot.

    Doctor Koreha narrowed his brows when he saw a thin man carrying a giant bouquet of roses, camellias, and carnations towards (your name)‘s room. 

    “Kizaki.” The yakuza perked up at his name, turning to look at Doctor Koreha. “Why do you have so many flowers?”

     “Hanayama sent me to give these to miss (last name). As well as to tell her he paid for all of her hospital expenses. I think he may be smitten.”

    Doctor Koreha frowned. Hanayama was interested in the woman who beat him in a fight? How interesting.

    “Alright. I was just hoping you weren’t planning anything violent in my hospital.” Doctor Koreha bit his lip. This just wouldn’t do. He couldn’t have someone so valuable fall into Hanayama’s clumsy hands. Hanayama could break her.

    “Hello?” (Your name) tilted her head at the man in the suit who entered her room. Who on earth was he? She has certainly never seen him before.

    “I am Kizaki. I am Hanayama’s right hand man. I’m here on a personal delivery for him.” Kizaki held out the bouquet to her, a smile on (your name)’s lips. It seems mister Hanayama covets her affections now. He must be a very peculiar man from how sweaty Kizaki was.

    “They’re lovely.” Red roses for passion, pink camellias for longing, red camellias for desire, and light red carnations for admiration. How interesting that a stoic man picked such loud flowers. It was incredibly romantic if she thought about it. If he wanted her attention, he certainly has it now. “Will you tell him I accept these?”

     “Of course, ma’am. He also paid for all of your hospital expenses.”

     (Your name) smiled as she smelled the flowers gifted to her. This was extremely flattering, she almost didn’t know how to react. It’s been a long time since she’s had such big demonstrations of affection done for her

     “I’m flattered to the highest degree. Please tell him of my thanks. May I be so bold to ask to see him once we have both recovered?” 

     Kizaki���s eyes widened in surprise. She was interested in his boss? Hanayama would probably be happy to know. He’s never been so interested in someone before, at least someone of the opposite gender. His boss never was one for romance. Maybe the pressure of getting his head crushed between thighs changed his mind. Who knew with Hanayama.

     “I will let my boss know. Have a safe recovery, ma’am.” Kizaki bowed to (your name). He wouldn’t mind if she became the boss’s girl. She must be someone special for Hanayama to go so far out of his way to do all of this for her. 

     Kizaki brushed past Zaria, the girl quirking a brow at the man in the suit. (Your name)‘a mother couldn’t have sent a man to pursue (your name) yet, right? 

    “(Your name), who’s as the weird man- whoah.” Zaria’s eyes widened at the huge bouquet of flowers in her (skin color) hands. And was (your name) smiling. “Who are those from?”

     “Hanayama. My opponent from the arena.” (Your name) smiled at Zaria. “He paid for my hospital expenses too.”

    “How does he have all the money to do all of that?”

     “He’s the head of the the Hanayama group. He’s yakuza.” Zaria choked on her spit in shock.

     “He’s what-“

    “He was announced as the strongest yakuza during our fight. Don’t you remember?” (Your name) chuckled as she placed the flowers on the side of her bed. “I’ll need a vase for these if you’d be so kind as to get me one.”

    “I didn’t even hear it because that guy was getting naked-“

     “Shh. It’s what Japanese brawlers too. He seems to be a very traditional man.”

    “Well I personally liked that Katsumi guy for you. His whole family fights. His mom supports his dad and him.” (Your name) smiled at her friend. It seems Katsumi’s mom must’ve been near her to put a little worm in her ear.

     “The cute karate guy?” (Your name) giggled, holding a hand on her chin. “He seemed pretty strong too. And respectful.”

    Katsumi seemed to be the type of guy who would treat a girl really well. The gentlemanly type with a playful side. And he was nice to look at, so (your name) wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of going on a date with him.

     “His mom, Natsue, said you could come to the Shinshinkai dojo whenever. She said they’d accept you with open arms.” (Your name) smiled at her friend.

     “He had said I could stop by at anytime. Maybe I’ll go see him. And see what his karate is all about.” (Your name) hummed, before glancing out the window. “And that Jack Hanma guy asked me out on a date too. How lucky am I?”

    “Retsu and Katsumi also wanted to go dancing with both of us. It could be like a double date.” (Your name) giggled at her friend.

     “There’s a lot of romantic options around here I guess.” (Your name) didn’t think there’d be so many bachelors around here but guess she was wrong. “I wonder if my mom would accept any of them.”

    “At this point I think she’ll be acceptable of you dating anyone at this point.” Zaria chuckled. “She just wants you to be happy.”

     “I know. I just wish she’d stop trying to force me to marry. I’ll just beat most of them up anyways.”

    “What even is your type, (your name)?” Zaria asked with a furrowed brow. “Do you even like men?”

     “I do. I just like men who are stronger than me. I just don’t want to be with someone who thinks that women can’t fight. Is that too much to ask?” (Your name) laughed, Zaria placing her face in her palms.

     “What about personality traits? Physical appearance?”

     “I’ve never dated nor have I been attracted to anyone. So I’m open to anyone.” (Your name) smiled, her friend looking at her with a deadpanned expression. “Hanayama is very ruggedly handsome and so is Jack. Retsu is a gentleman and much older. And Katsumi is cute. I think he is the most conventionally attractive of all of them.”

    “You’re something else.” Zaria took a seat beside (your name).

    “So I’ve heard.” (Your name) bit her lip. “We’ll see how long these suitors last. I give it a week.”

     “Do you really think so little of yourself?” Zaria asked curiously. “I mean your the whole package deal. Also speaking of packages, do you want me to undo your chest binding?”

     “Please!” The two girls shared a quick laugh before Zaria unfastened the bandages around (your name)’s chest, the girl moaning in relief when her chest finally fell back into its proper place. “It was killing me.”

     “But no boobs were seen during the fights so it’s all good.” 

    “True. I still have my dignity in all of this.”

     “I’ll go get you your vase. Inform me of anymore visitors that appear while I’m gone. Also, about that hot doctor.” Zaria winked at (your name), the woman merely smiling at her friend.

     “I will. Be safe.” (Your name) waved at her friend. A relieved sigh leaving her throat. All this socializing was making her tired. 

    (Your name) laid back on the bed, making herself comfortable. A small nap sounded nice. 

    (Your name) folded her hands across her stomach before closing her eyes. She couldn’t wait to get out of this hospital.

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

Author’s note: thanks for reading!

[drowned-debris]

@dotflowweek Day 4: School Uniform Effect, School, Repeatedly Going Over Thoughts

He should’ve been here two hours ago.

Two hours.

She expected him to be late —he always is— but not by this much. It feels like a jab at her, like one of those half-serious insults he’s so fond of. Mocking her for taking him at his word.

All things considered, she should probably leave. If Smile is gonna be a no-show, there’s no reason for her to waste her time sitting in this classroom any longer. She risks getting trapped in the school when the gates are locked.

…But then again, she doesn’t really have anywhere better to be.

Half the reason she even agreed to meet with him was out of boredom. Hanging out around town with a guy she mostly hates still beats going back to where she’s staying. For the millionth time, she laments her complete ineptitude at making friends; maybe if she talked to her classmates more, she’d have a companion with whom conversations didn’t feel like battles.

Unfortunately, she’s stuck with the smuggest, most arrogant bastard on the planet. It’s just like him to leave her hanging like this; their time together thus far has been an elaborate dance of one-upping each other. He’s probably going to show up tomorrow and laugh at her for being so gullible, for waiting two whole hours for him to arrive. Then he’ll mockingly ask if she’s in love with him, to which she’ll respond by telling him he wishes, and then they’ll kiss to shut each other up. It usually goes something like that, anyway.

What if something happened to him?

The thought comes out of nowhere, shocking Sabitsuki. Her nails stop scraping against the desk— she didn’t even notice they were doing so until now.

Just what on Earth even provoked that thought? He’s proven he can handle himself. Smile knows this town just as well as she does; the idea of him being caught off guard in a bad place is ridiculous.

You can’t say that for sure.

“Urgh!”

Sabitsuki slams her fist hard onto the table she’s sitting on. She wishes she could deny it, but… there’s always a chance. Her eyes dart to a clock in the corner— the incessant ticking only fuels her unease.

With a groan, she pushes herself off of the desk. Sabitsuki feels like she’s gonna start going crazy if she spends another second just sitting here. Surely she can at least go check around the school?

Shakily, she steps out of the classroom and creeps over to the rooftop staircase. She has no idea whether anyone who works at the school knows about the two of them staying late so often— but she’d rather not risk it, so she takes her time heading upwards.

She arrives at the roof, and the cold night air rushes out to greet her. It’s refreshing, good for clearing the head. It’s not even six o’ clock yet, but the moon is making steady progress into the sky. She’ll never get used to winter.

Taking a few steps towards the railing, she bends carefully over it and surveys the area below. No signs of movement within the school grounds. The lights of the town outside the gates glow resolutely, like knights in shining armour riding out to combat the darkness. It’s funny— the night makes this shithole look almost beautiful.

“Not that I don’t like what I see, but that looks sorta unsafe.”

She stands up straight and swivels around instantly at the sound of a familiar voice. It’s him: Mr. Human Garbage himself. Before she even knows it, she’s marching towards him, her steps making heavy footfalls across the grey floor. Smile is standing next to the doorway that leads back inside the school; she grabs the sides of his brown jacket and pins him against the wall.

“YOU!” Sabitsuki yells. All intention of staying quiet vanished the moment he appeared. “Where the HELL were you!?”

“Just taking care of something. Why? Can’t live without me?”

She’d never admit this, but she’s grateful that he’s okay with her shouting; she feels so goddamn angry these days, and he gives her somewhere to let it out.

“Taking care of something for two fucking hours?”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “So clingy. If you must know, my sis hurt her leg and I went to help her out.”

Sabitsuki sighs and lets go of him. She knows how much he cares for his sister— it’s one of the few things she likes about him.

Stepping back a little, she speaks, more calmly this time. “...Fine. Just try to be quicker next time! I thought something had happened to you!”

He gasps in mock surprise. “What’s this? Sabitsuki is worried about me? My fair lady Sabitsuki is worried?” He pretends to swoon. “Oh my, I think I might faint!”

She scowls. “Oh, shut the fuck up. I didn’t even want to think about it! The thought just wouldn’t leave my head, is all. Jesus.”

Smile shrugs nonchalantly, then leans forward toward her. “Well, if you need a distraction…” he grabs at the tie of her uniform and pulls hard, bringing her face mere millimetres away from his. He offers up his trademark grin. A complete loser wearing a winning smile. “...I think I have an idea.” Before he even stops speaking, he’s already closing the gap.

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

[theapprenticeofthanatos]

TAoT: Chapter 22: Ultimate Enemy: Part 2

‘Old friend’? Danny eyed the newcomer warily. I’m sure I’ve never met this guy before.

The ghost’s grin gained a sphinxlike quality. “Oh, we haven’t met yet, have we? At least, not from your point of view.”

Sam marched forward, placing herself between Danny and the ghost. “What did you do with Skulktech?” She demanded.

The ghost waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I just sent him back to his time. Or, rather,” the ghost’s appearance changed, growing old in the blink of an eye; near-skeletal hands gripped the staff, and a long, grandfatherly beard hung from his chin. He looked like an old wizard, especially with the same scar still on his face. “Forward to his own time. Time does not flow linearly for me.” The ghost changed again; this time, he looked like a child, and the staff shrunk in size. The ghost scoffed. “But why should I bother explaining? You’re fourteen.”

Was that an insult?

No. It is the truth, and you know it.

That felt like an insult.

Danny clenched his hands as annoyance began to simmer beneath his skin. “Who are you? Where are we?”

The ghost changed back to an adult and idly turned a dial on his staff. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you go by many names. You should know all about that, right?” The ghost gave Danny a sidelong glance, and his unblinking gaze grated on Danny’s nerves. “Or should I say, you will know.” The ghost shrugged nonchalantly. “But, in answer to your first question, you may call me Clockwork, Master of Time.”

Danny stepped protectively in front of Sam. “‘Master of Time’?” Danny scoffed mockingly. “That’s a bit pretentious, isn’t it?”

He could feel his friends’ eyes boring into the back of his head, and he could practically hear them saying, ‘Danny, please don’t do something stupid. Please don’t pick a fight with this guy.’

Clockwork’s expression was mildly amused as he changed once more into an old man. “I suppose it is.”

“Okay, so if you’re the ‘Master of Time’,” Danny did air quotes with the title. “I’m guessing that you know why Skulktech showed up in my time. Right?” Danny was having difficulty trying to keep his emotions in check as his annoyance bubbled into anger.

“Oh, that was me,” Clockwork answered lightly, now in child form. “I was charged with destroying you, so that,” he gestured to the monitor they had been looking at. “Never happens.”

On the display, the image changed again, now showing the ghost—Future Danny—fighting against Annabeth and a guy that looked sort of like Danny, but with tanner skin and green eyes. The scene changed, and the ghost was now facing off against a girl in a green headscarf, a blonde guy with a glowing sword, and a person in a garish pink and green outfit. The scene changed once more. Now the ghost was fighting against a girl with caramel hair and a guy with dark brown hair, both of whom were dressed in simple white clothes.

In every scene, the ghost was clearly winning.

The scene started to change once again, but Danny couldn’t handle any more of… the future. His future.

“That’s not me! It can’t be! I would never do that to anyone!” Danny’s voice rose with each word, until he was shouting at the end. “Why do I have to pay for something that somebody else did?!”

Clockwork tilted his head, regarding Danny with a rather curious expression. Danny doubted it to be the case, but the ghost even appeared slightly apologetic.

Danny would have apologized for raising his voice, but he’d had a crappy day so far, and this ghost was the cause of it. He was late for school, he’d completely forgotten to return the test answers, and he had gotten beaten to kingdom come by a ghost from an apocalyptic future that Danny did not want to be a part of. And it was all this ghost’s fault.

“I’m goin’ ghost!”

.

.

Danny and his friends fell out of the portal. Danny managed to slow his fall and float a few inches above the ground, while Sam and Tucker tumbled to the earth below.

“Ouch…” Tucker whined as he sat up and glared at Danny. “What, you couldn’t catch us?”

“Sorry, I was a little busy trying to avoid getting us all murdered.” Danny argued back; admittedly, it had been rather stupid of him to pick a fight with a ghost who could literally control time, but… “Besides, you’ve got all those cushy plants to break your fall.”

Tucker frowned as he looked down. The asphalt where he and Sam had landed was cracked and worn, and thick green plants—vines, ferns, trees, etc—had broken through the rock. He stood and helped Sam up, glancing around uneasily as they took in the scene around them.

Tucker’s eyes widened in shock. “This is ten years in the future? It looks more like fifty! I’m not taking the CAT if this is all I’ve got to look forward to.”

Danny looked at the landscape surrounding them, and he had to agree. The buildings were in absolute ruins, with vines and other leafed plants climbing up their sides. The apartments, stores, and offices looked like something out of The Little Shop of Horrors. Some of the buildings were completely covered in vegetation, to the point that Danny couldn’t even tell what they had once been.

As for the plants, Danny realized upon closer inspection that they weren’t quite… normal. The greenery was thick and overgrown—far more than seemed natural. Danny didn’t recognize most of the plants—some looked like giant ferns, and others looked like they belonged underwater. Some of the plants were so bizarre, Danny was almost certain that they had existed during the time of the dinosaurs.

“Yeah, I’m a fan of nature and all, but this is a bit much. Even for me,” Sam admitted, kicking at a leafy vine the width of a tree trunk; it didn’t budge. “How did this all happen?”

“I don’t know,” Danny mumbled as he flew forward a few feet. “But based on what we saw back in Clockwork’s Tower… I have a really bad feeling I’m the one responsible.”

Suddenly, a hint of danger tingled at the back of Danny’s mind. A fern in front of him rustled, and before he could move, a pink net shot out and wrapped around him. He tried to phase through the webbing, and a sharp jolt of electricity shot through him in response. He cried out as he fell to the ground, and the one who had trapped him emerged from their hiding place in the undergrowth.

It was a woman in a strikingly familiar red and black jumpsuit. Though, the woman herself looked quite different from when Danny had last seen her. Her long curly hair had been buzzed short, and what was visible of her skin was marred with nicks and scars. She looked older—not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Hatred burned in her eyes like embers in a fire.

“Valerie?” Danny gawked in disbelief.

The huntress didn’t answer as she readjusted the bazooka on her shoulder, taking aim at the trapped halfa.

“Wait, you gotta listen to me!” Danny struggled against the net.

“You can’t fool me this time, Phantom.” The coldness in Valerie’s voice shocked Danny. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” The bazooka whirred to life as Valerie glared hatefully at Danny. “Goodbye and good—”

The huntress was cut off as Sam and Tucker jumped between her and Danny, shielding him from her line of fire.

“Valerie, no!” Tucker exclaimed.

“Don’t shoot!” Sam pleaded.

Valerie stumbled back as if she’d been shocked. The bazooka was, thankfully, no longer aimed at Danny or his friends. Valerie paled as her gaze flicked between the living teens, and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost (No, bad Danny. This is not the time for jokes.)

“Sam?” She gasped, her voice raspy and full of disbelief. “Tucker? No, this has to be a trick! You died!”

Danny’s core stopped. Sam and Tucker died…? What…? Who…?

“‘Died’? As in ‘died’ died?” Tucker dropped his arms and looked at Sam, his expression horrified as he took a step back. “If that’s our future, I’m definitely not taking the CAT!”

“The CAT?” Valerie looked dazed. “That’s… that’s the last time I saw you guys alive. The explosion at the Nasty Burger… you and Lancer, and Jazz, and… and…” Her eyes widened in realization.

Valerie pointed her weapon at Danny again, the pink glow of its charge reflecting off the pavement. She looked furious. “And it was all your fault!”

Without warning, a wave of ecto-energy shot between the young teens and the older woman, sending Valerie flying backwards with a scream. Danny and his friends looked towards the source and Danny suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe.

There, floating several feet above them, was the ghost they had seen on the monitors in Clockwork’s Tower.

It was him.

The ghost glared at Valerie. “Actually, that was me.” His voice was lower than Danny’s, more grating. Danny shivered when the ghost turned his cold gaze to him with a malicious smile. “And you, eventually.”

The ghost, Future Danny—no… Dan (Danny refused to let this become his future)—landed in front of Danny and his friends.

“Sam and Tucker,” he drawled, his gaze flicking between the two humans. “It’s been a while. Ten years, to be exact.”

Dan raised his hand, ecto-energy glowing in his palm, and waved it in front of him, casting an ecto-stasis field over Sam and Tucker. They remained frozen in place as Dan sauntered forward with a smirk.

“So, to what do I owe this blast from the past?” Dan smirked, but it turned into a scowl when he saw the time medallion around Sam’s neck. “Clockwork, meddling again.” Dan’s gaze landed on Danny then, and his scowl deepened as he took in Danny’s appearance—specifically, the laurel wreath. “And why are you—”

Dan was interrupted by a pink ecto-blast that sent him flying backwards into an old building covered in a thick layer of ivy. Danny looked over and saw Valerie struggling to her feet, a wrist blaster on her left arm and two grenades in her right hand.

Dan emerged from the plants, looking slightly dazed, but his expression quickly morphed into one of anger as he snarled and flew towards Valerie. She flung her grenades one after the other at the fast approaching ghost. Dan turned himself into a weird green mist right as the grenades met his skin, causing them to pass harmlessly through him.

Unfazed, Valerie brought up her wrist ray and began firing at Dan. Dan split into two—one duplicate continued on Dan’s path towards the Red Huntress, while the other flew around to flank her. Valerie could only focus on one duplicate at a time.

With her attention focused on the duplicate that was trying to sneak behind her, the one charging towards her reached out and grabbed her wrists.

The two ghosts remerged, and Dan lifted Valerie into the air by her arm. His fist connected with her gut, and Danny heard a painful crack as the air was knocked from Valerie’s lungs and she was sent flying once more. Valerie landed roughly on what was left of the pavement a good fifteen feet away. Dan landed at her feet, looming menacingly over her.

“Where’s your usual fight, Valerie?” Dan asked mockingly. “I’ve let you live this long because I enjoyed our little squabbles.” Dan leaned down, grabbed Valerie by the throat, and lifted her into the air once more. He looked rather unimpressed as she clawed at his hand and began to squirm and kick. “But if you’re not going to fight anymore, I guess I’ll just have to kill you.”

NO! Danny struggled desperately against the net that held him captive. I have to… have to save her.

Danny watched helplessly as Valerie scratched weakly at the hand around her throat. Her eyes bugged out as her face turned red, and her mouth opened in a desperate gasp for air. Dan’s gaze was cold as he tightened his grip.

If only I could break these stupid ropes! Danny pulled at the netting, growling in frustration as it zapped his fingers. But then an idea came to him. What if he used his other transformation?

Danny remembered the weird transformation he had done three months ago; he also remembered that he had passed out each time he tried to use said transformation. As long as it could help Valerie, then I’m willing to try anything.

Danny closed his eyes and focused on the icy cold of his core. He hesitantly pulled at some of the power, and dug a little deeper until… there. He felt the faint burning of that roaring green fire. Just a little bit…

Danny felt the warmth of the transformation begin to envelop him and focused on expelling it out around him, destroying the net he was trapped in. Then he imagined that the flames were gone, and when he opened his eyes, they were. He was also wearing the tunic and sandals again, but he had far more important things to focus on at the moment.

Danny looked up to see Valerie hanging limply from Dan’s grasp, her hands dangling lifelessly at her sides. A blue mist hung in the air around her head, the last of it wafting from her mouth. Dan looked at her in vague disgust before he tossed her aside like a piece of garbage.

Danny reacted quickly and sped forward to catch her. He managed to grab her just before she hit the ground, and flew off before Dan could grab either of them.

I need to get her somewhere safe. Danny thought as he glanced down at Valerie. Somewhere-

Wait.

Something was wrong.

Danny abruptly came to a stop, only twenty feet or so from Dan. He floated down to the ground as dread settled over him. No, she can’t be…

He laid Valerie down on the ground as gently as he could and took her wrist, pressing his fingers to her pulse point.

He felt nothing.

Frustrated, Danny pulled off her glove and tried again.

… Nothing.

His gaze went to her chest, and he watched anxiously, hoping, praying that…

Nothing.

She wasn’t breathing. She had no pulse. Her skin… her skin was already far too cold.

Valerie was dead.

And he hadn’t done anything to stop it.

Dan cackled behind him. “There was nothing you could have done,” he called out, as if he had read Danny’s mind. “Not once I had my hand around her throat.”

Danny didn’t turn around—not yet, at least. He gently folded Valerie’s arms across her stomach, and closed her eyes. Now, she at least appeared to be sleeping.

:Thank you for your help, my friend,: Danny whispered.

Danny felt like there was something more he could have done for her—something he should have done—but there wasn’t enough time for him to think about it. Not right now. Danny felt something brush against his arm; it felt like a cool breeze.

But… there wasn’t any wind.

Danny ignored it as he got to his feet. He turned to face his evil older self, and dread dropped like a rock in his stomach at what he saw.

Sam and Tucker were suspended a few feet off of the ground, still frozen in green ecto-energy. Dan paced in front of them, like a lion around its prey. His mouth moved as if he were talking to them, but Danny was too far away to hear him.

Danny’s vision wavered for a split second—his strength was fading. He couldn’t stay in this form for very long. He shook his head to clear his vision, before he brought his hands up and shot a dual ecto-blast at Dan.

The beam was bigger than Danny had anticipated. It forced him back a few steps from the sheer force behind it, but Danny didn’t have time to think about that as his ecto-blast flew towards Dan.

Dan seemed to sense the impending attack and turned around, firing one of his own ecto-blasts just as Danny’s hit him square in the chest, knocking Dan to the ground and freeing Sam and Tucker. Dan’s ecto-blast hit Danny in the gut, knocking him flat on his back and forcing the air from his lungs.

Sucking in a breath, Danny sat up and looked at his friends. They hadn’t moved away from Dan yet, clearly in shock. They needed to move before Dan got back on his feet.

:Sam! Tucker!: Danny shouted.

His friends’ gazes snapped to him.

:Run!:

Tucker just stared at Danny, as if he didn’t understand him. Sam, on the other hand, jumped to her feet, grabbed Tucker’s arm, and ran away, dragging Tucker behind her. Tucker, thankfully, was quick to get his feet under him and run after her.

Danny caught a glance of where his friends were running to, and froze. He recognized that building, no matter how it looked now, all derelict and covered in wild plants. How could he not? He grew up within its walls.

Sam and Tucker were running towards what was left of FentonWorks.

Dan got to his feet with a pained grimace, but he shook it off as he realized that they were trying to escape.

“Run? Where are they going to go?” Dan grinned evilly at Danny, before he turned around.

Danny watched in horror as Dan inhaled and released the power he had used to annihilate Camp Half-Blood and its residents.

Sam and Tucker froze in their tracks, covering their ears in an ineffectual attempt to block out that horrible sound.

Nonono I have to save them. I have to stop him. Danny flew at Dan with blinding speed, ramming into the older ghost. Dan’s wail was cut short, but not soon enough to stop the dilapidated building from crumbling and falling towards Sam and Tucker.

Danny tried to fly to his friends and rescue them—he had to save them, he had to—but Dan caught him by the ankle. Danny could only watch as what was left of the Ops Center fell on top of Sam and Tucker.

NO!!!

Danny cried out in pain as electricity suddenly coursed through his body. His transformation shorted out, leaving him exhausted and human. Dan cackled as he swung Danny around and threw him into the pile of rubble that had buried his friends.

Danny landed heavily on the pavement. None of the plants had broken his fall—it was almost as if they had a mind of their own and had moved out of the way.

Groaning, Danny propped himself up on his elbows and turned his gaze up towards the wreckage. He nearly cried out in relief when he saw two medallions laying among the debris.

They’re alive! Danny thought with relief as he pushed himself to his knees. “They took off their medallions and went back to our time.” Danny reached up to his medallion. “Which means I can…”

Dan’s hand shot out and grabbed Danny’s wrist. Danny was roughly pulled to his feet, and brought face to face with his evil older self. Dan looked infuriated, and his eyes reminded Danny of two red supergiants, ready to collide with one another.

“Means what? That you can go back home and act like this never happened?” Dan snarled, his free hand glowing green. “I don’t think so. You’re not going anywhere. Not if I have anything to say about it. Oh, wait.”

He bared his fangs in an awful grin that sent chills down Danny’s spine. “I do have a say, and you will never leave. Especially,” he ripped the medallion from around Danny’s neck. His eyes glowed with a malevolent light. “If you can’t remove your time medallion.”

Dan turned the medallion intangible and plunged it into Danny’s chest.

Danny screamed, his voice echoing through the decimated remains of Amity Park. Every square inch of his chest was filled with a searing pain as the medallion touched his core. It felt like dry ice was filling his lungs, and it burned. It burned, it burned, it burns-

Dan pulled his hand out of Danny’s chest, but the pain didn’t cease. The medallion continued to shift, its teeth scraping and gouging against Danny’s core as it settled into place. The medallion struck the bottom of Danny’s sternum, and his vision went white, his ears ringing so loudly he thought he might go deaf. He knew that he was still screaming, but it sounded echoey and far away, as if it were somebody else. He couldn’t feel anything except pain, so much pain…

And then he blacked out.

.

Danny stood by the lake again. He could see the three islands clearly in the distance; he hated those islands. Those islands, where he could not go. Where his mother would be going, and leaving him behind. He turned to his mother, whose hands he held tightly in his own.

:Why?: He asked, although he already knew her answer. :Why must you go?:

His mother smiled at him sadly. He was not used to her new form; she still had blue eyes (just like his own), but her once black hair now glistened like snow, and she glowed with a heavenly sort of light. All that remained of her old form was her priestess’ laurels—silvery white leaves, tied together with light blue ribbons—which Danny now wore atop his own head. She had traded them for a flower crown that Danny had made for her. Poppies, lilies, anemones, chrysanthemums, and dianthus now adorned her hair.

Once, Danny and his mother had looked almost the same; Danny didn’t really have any physical traits from his father, except for the faintest hint of gold in his irises.

:Because I am needed, Athos,: his mother explained patiently. :My father has bestowed this role upon me, to guide and welcome those who have done good. Who have given their lives for a greater cause, given their life for another, or lived a virtuous life.:

:But—: Danny’s throat constricted as tears filled his eyes. :But that is not fair! It is not good or virtuous of you to leave me, and go where I cannot follow! I never lived a full life!:

His mother brought her hands to his cheeks, where she wiped away the stray tears that had begun to fall. :Athos, my son, have faith,: she said softly. :Have faith in yourself. You can live a full life. You have that choice.:

Danny felt his stomach churn at what she was suggesting. :But…: He looked away from her and to the east, where he knew there flowed a river of white that, if he chose its path, would erase all that he had ever known. :But what if I am not good? What if I do not do right, and I cannot return home to you?:

His mother pulled him close and placed a kiss on top of his head. :I have faith in you, Athanasios. You will return to me, one way or another.:

.

Something was wrong. When Danny inhaled and exhaled, he felt something wrong—like some object was rubbing uncomfortably against his core. Slowly, his other senses came back to him. He could feel rough pavement against his cheek, and the familiar chill of ectoplasm coiled tightly around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. Danny winced at the bright sunlight as he opened his eyes, and he slowly sat up.

Everything hurt, but that was kinda normal for him by this point. His vision spun, and Danny closed his eyes as he tried not to throw up. His head hurt, as if someone had cracked it against a brick wall.

How long had he been out? Had he been dreaming? What had he dreamt about…?

The more Danny tried to remember it, the faster the memory left him, until he wasn’t sure he’d dreamt anything at all.

Feeling more stable, Danny opened his eyes again. His vision had cleared, and he now noticed a large statue in front of him. It was old and weathered, covered in thick greenery. But, as Danny watched, the plants slithered away, revealing the stone monument underneath. Danny shuddered—it was like… the plants were sentient. Like they were moving themselves.

However, he quickly lost interest in that once he realized what the monument was. It was a memorial for his family and friends, with the inscription, “Gone But Not Forgotten” etched across its base.

Danny felt his heartbeat pick up, and tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes. What happened to them? What got them in the end?

Danny managed to roll onto his knees despite his torso and arms being wrapped tightly together in glowing green ropes, and he winced as the bindings rubbed against cuts and bruises on his arms. He looked around, taking in his surroundings.

He was in a spacious clearing with the ruins of a large building next to him. Huge plants—flowering trees and overgrown bushes—sat along the edges of the clearing, their leaves swaying in a nonexistent wind.

Why am I here? Danny asked himself, before turning his focus back to the ruined building.

Underneath the dirt and grime, Danny could make out what were once white walls and doors. Glass littered the ground around the building. From the stinging pain in Danny’s cheek, he guessed that he might’ve gotten some of the finer glass dust in his cuts. Ouch.

Something white and red in the corner of Danny’s vision caught his eye. It was a sign.

A sign that Danny knew very, very well.

“The Nasty Burger?” Danny’s throat felt like sandpaper. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing much.” A cold voice spoke. Dread filled the pit of Danny’s stomach at the sound.

Danny looked back up at the standing remains of the Nasty Burger just in time to see Dan round the corner. He appeared nonchalant, but Danny’s core sensed the dangerous vibes Dan was giving off.

“Just one huge fireball of combustible condiments that changed my whole future.”

“W-what?” Danny looked back at the ruined restaurant. This time he could see burn marks and stains beneath the soot and dirt. N-no, that c-can’t be… “T-that can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Dan leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest.

“T-that can’t—” Danny swallowed past the lump that was forming in his throat. “They can’t be dead. That can’t be… how they died.”

“How childish can you be? No one chooses how they die.” Dan chuckled mirthlessly. “Some die in fiery explosions, others get shot in the head, and others… never even get a chance to live…” Dan trailed off, scowling into the distance as if he were lost in thought.

Danny felt like a vise had clamped around his chest, making it hard to breathe. M-mom and Dad… gone in an… explosion? Danny blinked away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. What about Sam and Tucker a-and Jazz? Did they… were they there when…?

Dan looked back towards Danny, glowering. “Giatí eísai tóso diaforetikós? (‘Why are you so different?’)”

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re saying,” Danny said shakily. He had understood a couple of the words, but…

“Interesting,” Dan quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t know Greek in your human form.”

“Well, I know a few words,” Danny corrected. “But what do you mean ‘in my human form’? It’s not like I know it better in my ghost form, or… any other form.”

Dan stared at him, dumbfounded. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure that I heard you speaking Greek when you did that weird transformation earlier.” He gave Danny a strange look, one that Danny couldn’t quite place. “Decided to take inspiration from the old look, did you?”

Danny could not be more confused. “What?” What did Dan mean by ‘old look’? Was… he talking about Danny’s… other transformation? “What are you talking about?”

Dan stared at him through narrowed eyes for a moment, before a Cheshire grin spread across his face. “You don’t know yet, do you?”

“Know what?” Danny asked, growing rather frustrated. What did Dan know about Danny that Danny didn’t?

“You don’t know the single most important thing about yourself.” Dan sneered before turning towards the plants. “You hear that, Mitéra Gi? (‘Mother Earth?’) He doesn’t know!”

The plants swayed, and the rustling sound made Danny strongly suspect that the foliage was laughing at him.

“What’s with the weird plants? Why do they move on their own?” Danny asked, trying to focus on something else for a time. He… didn’t want to dwell on what had happened to his friends and family in this timeline.

“Oh, these little things?” Dan gestured towards the plants. “These are just a little something from my… benefactor.”

“Benefactor?” Who would possibly support this nutcase? “Why would anyone support all this chaos? W-who would…?”

Dan bared his fangs in a grin that sent shivers down Danny’s spine. “Someone who wants all of humanity and their gods destroyed.”

Danny’s core froze. Someone wanted all humans and gods destroyed? Who would want something like that? Why would anyone want that?

Danny hadn’t noticed before, but there was a strange golden coloring to Dan’s gloves. It completely coated the tips of his clawed fingers, and continued down his forearms. Danny didn’t know what it was, but… an uneasy feeling filled his gut as he looked at it.

Dan noticed Danny’s stare. “You looking at this?” He raised his hand as if he were showing off a ring, and the golden stains glittered in the sunlight. “Yeah, ichor is pretty messy. Doesn’t like to wash out.” Dan grinned sharkishly. “Not that I mind, though. It’s kinda like a trophy.”

“Ichor?” Danny repeated slowly. He’d heard that somewhere… “Wait, like, god blood? You killed a god?”

Dan’s grin turned maniacal. “Oh, only the ones that got in my way,” he gloated, but then his expression faltered slightly, as if he were remembering something upsetting. “Well, them and a couple of others.”

“W-wait, but…” Dan’s revelation just didn’t make sense in Danny’s mind. “Y-you can’t kill a god. They’re immortal.”

Dan barked a short laugh. “Immortal, my ass! All I had to do was hunt down a stupid sea cow, and next thing I knew they were just as killable as any old human.”

“Wait, hold up.” Danny grunted as he stood up; his knees were killing him. “I am so lost right now. A sea cow? What even…?”

Dan scoffed amusedly. “I know, right? Who even thought of using the Ophiotaurus for that?”

“The what?” Danny said bewilderedly. “Okay, now you’re just making up words.”

Dan’s amused smirk faded as he stared at Danny in disbelief. “You don’t know what the Ophiotaurus is?” At Danny’s shrug, Dan scoffed again, more scornfully. “What is he even teaching you with that worthless apprenticeship?”

Something about the way Dan said that caught Danny’s attention. Wait, is this version of me not an apprentice? Danny wondered. Did Thanatos end the apprenticeship with him? W-will he end mine as well? What did I do to…?

Before Danny could ask anything about Dan’s apprenticeship—how it had ended, or if he’d even had one—Dan let out a long-suffering sigh, like a teacher trying to explain something to an especially slow student. “The Ophiotaurus is a sea monster. When a demigod kills it and burns its entrails, they gain the power to kill gods. And that’s what I did.”

Wait a minute…

WHAT?!

“B-bu-wait, I’m not a demigod!” Danny stammered. His brain was… having trouble processing Dan’s statement, to say the least. “You’re me, a-and I’m not a demigod! I-I’m mortal. I’m just a legacy o-of Hades, not…” Danny shook his head. “No, you’re lying.”

But why would he lie about that?

Dan grinned venomously, his fangs bared like a snake’s. “What would I have to gain from lying to myself?”

Danny was lost. Demigod? There was literally no way Danny was a demigod. What was Dan talking about? He didn’t… What had happened to cause this future? Why would his future possibly end up like this? H-he didn’t want to kill people. Why did… why did Dan cause all of this destruction? Why did he…?

“What about Thanatos?” Danny asked quietly.

Dan flinched, his gaze snapping to Danny’s own. “What?” He growled out.

Another chill ran down Danny’s spine as Dan’s flames flared up like a fire with fresh kindling. “Th-Thanatos…?” Danny repeated. “W-what does he think about—”

“I heard you the first time,” Danny scrambled away as Dan stalked towards him. Dan’s eyes glowed like coals in a furnace, his expression full of unbridled rage as he snarled at Danny. “And I don’t give a damn what he thinks.”

Dan lunged forward and grabbed Danny by the neck, lifting the smaller halfa from the ground and bringing him face to face. His furious gaze bore into Danny’s rather alarmed expression.

“You know what? I just don’t get it,” Dan muttered. “Why did he choose you? What’s so special,” his grip on Danny’s throat tightened, forcing a small, pained gasp out of him. “About you?”

Danny couldn’t respond, even if he wanted to. Stars danced across his vision as Dan’s grip tightened, completely cutting off Danny’s airflow. Why was Dan so upset? What did Danny say to piss him off? Was Dan just going to kill him, just like he did to Valerie—

Dan’s grip loosened, and he threw Danny roughly to the pavement. He regarded Danny with a cold glare as the younger halfa coughed harshly, trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t know why he chose you,” Dan sneered. “But it doesn’t matter. You’ll still become me, whether you want to or not.”

Dan waved his hand, and a swirling green portal opened behind Danny. The younger halfa glared at Dan as the elder drew closer to him.

“You’re not me,” Danny spat at him. “I could never become someone like you!”

“No,” Dan remarked coldly. “You couldn’t.” And, much to Danny’s horror, Dan changed. A blue-white ring formed around his waist, and it split in half before traveling over Dan’s form. When it faded, he looked…

He looked just like Danny.

“But I can make you.” Dan finished, and he even sounded like Danny, he—

Before Danny could say or do anything, Dan grabbed him by the ropes. He walked forward, stopping just feet from the portal, and threw Danny into the swirling green depths.

First: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 21

Next: Chapter 23

[battinsonseyeliner]

Another shifting story abt tom riddle

Prequel: https://battinsonseyeliner.tumblr.com/post/692222749493641216/sequel-to-this-onebasically-just-abraxas-taking

The cruciatus curses Tom used on me two weeks ago has weakened me, my physical body especially, now I just feel drained every single day, even with Abraxas taking care of me. “You should just stay here today, I will take your notes for you,” Abraxas said after pulling his blanket and place it onto my chest carefully, “it’s alright, he has a full day today so he won’t be here before I get back,” Abraxas said before I could ask him if Tom is going to be here, “ok then, I will see you at lunch,” I said weakly, “before lunch, I will pick you up,” he said while messing with my hair.

I start coughing all of the sudden, the next second he is on his knee beside the bed watching me carefully, “do you need water?” He asked me, “yea don’t worry, I can just get it myself,” I said before trying to do wand less magic, but it didn’t work this time. “What, it should’ve worked, it always works,” I said out of frustrations, there’s no way on Earth that my wand less magic is not working, Vinda has taught me herself, “you’re too weak to do it at the moment, it will work again once you’re fully recovered, I will get you some tea, just wait here for a moment yea?,” Abraxas said before standing up again.

However before he got back with his tea, I have already fell asleep. The next thing I saw when I opened my eyes is Tom Marvolo Riddle, the culprit of all my sufferings, he’s sitting on his bed reading a god damn book as if nothing has happened. I wondered how long he’s been here.

He has sensed that I am awake, he puts down the book and turned to look at me, I simply ignored him and started drinking the tea, which is cold by now.

Tom didn’t say anything at all except just staring at me, I put the mug down on the bed side table before turning around and facing him with my back, but then I felt even more unsafe, so I turned around again facing him directly, but I realized I don’t wanna face him either, so I had to cover my head with his blanket. The scent of fresh lemon, fire whiskey has calmed my nerves, it was Abraxas’s scent, it’s always so calming.

Until Tom Riddle disrupted my peace again.

“When are you going to be done with your tantrums?” Said Tom Riddle.

“My tantrums? I am like this all because of you.” I pulled down my blanket to answer his question, clearly he was shocked by how drained I looked, my brown hair is a bit tangled at the end, it’s not as shiny as they used to look, my lips are just as pale as my skin, my eye bags have never been more obvious under my blood shot eyes, the dark circles are more purple and red these days, and my cheekbones are sinking in as well.

Tom only let out a scoff, “all because of me? You must’ve hit your head because from what I remembered, you were the one who insulted me first, it was really your fault if you think about it, you should’ve been more careful there, don’t blame your recklessness on me,” he said nonchalantly.

“Whatever makes you sleep well at night Riddle,” I said before the door was opened. Abraxas didn’t even need to ask to know what has happened. The tears in my eyes, the anger on my face, the cruelty of Riddle, he knew them too well. “Riddle, we had a deal, you have to hold onto your part in order to make the deal works,” Abraxas tried to sound as calm as possible, “we do, but Rosier provoked me again, you should be thankful that I am not hexing her right now,” Tom said as he stood up.

But Abraxas was not having it at all, he pulled out his wand and quickly casted a stupefy charm at Riddle, however Tom saw this coming so he blocked the curse even quicker. “How dare you? Love had made you weak Malfoy,” he said before hitting Malfoy with the cruciatus curse.

Abraxas fell onto his knees due to the amount of agony, I took out my wand under his pillow and terminated Riddle’s spell. “Do you wish to take his punishment for him? I don’t think you can take anymore of it,” Riddle looked at me with a sinister smile.

“Punishment? How many times have you done this to him?” I looked at him with anger, but then I felt Abraxas trying to pull me back, “once or twice, only after he fell in love with you, he got too protective over you, guess love do make you weak, so at the end of the day, it’s your fault as well,” Tom said in his usual tone. “Get your hands off of my husband, how dare you treat him like that, if you touch him again I will make sure that you will regret it deeply.”

Tom being his usual egoistic self, laughed at my threats. “What are you going to do? Hmm? You are too nice to hurt anyone from all I know, you’re nothing like your families, you were weak before and now you’re even weaker, the best thing for you to do is dress well, talk less, and serve me alongside your soon to be husband,” he scoffed again, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do anymore, Tom, you went too far,” my body started shaking slightly due to my anger, he let out another scoff.

The next second I started to use non verbal spell to fire different hexes towards him, he blocked them perfectly, he started to fire back at me as well, I have also blocked them successfully, I heard Abraxas’s weak groans behind me.

I suddenly stopped shooting hexes at him, he looked at me suspiciously, he raised his wand again, before he could do anything, I have sent a non verbal killing curse towards him, the jets of green light landed on his chest perfectly, knocking him down on the ground, “don’t ever do that to my husband ever again, or the killing curse I fire next time will be far stronger than this one.” I said before leaving him alone on the ground like he did to me before, and helped Abraxas getting up.

“Come on, we need to take you to the hospital wing,” I said while helping him getting up, “alright let’s go.”

“I didn’t know you could do that, firing a killing curse with non verbal magic,” he whispered, “Vinda and Gellert taught me, and the Black blood in my body also contributed,” I said jokingly, “well then, remind me to never start a fight with you.”

[violets-page]

Shot Down |R.R.|

MASTERLIST

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! Hope you enjoy <3

The 100, Raven x fem reader? If your kay with it maybe where reader and Raven are in a relationship and had an argument but then the Murphy situation happens in the dropship so the reader helps raven out and when shots happen the reader protects Raven?

You loved Raven, truly. In fact, you loved her more than you thought your heart was capable of. But you couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t really over Finn. You saw the way she looked at him when he and Clarke were together. You saw the pain of losing your first love and the crushing weight of having to watch him happy without her. No matter how many times she smiled and told you she was ‘so over him’ , you couldn't help but notice how her gaze always lingered on him for a second longer.

When Raven crashed to earth only to have her heartbroken you were there to comfort her. Brought together by her tech-savvy ways and your creative ideas the two of you spent countless days together, thinking up and prototyping weapons. And when night time crept up, throwing darkness onto all those below her, She’d creeped into your bed shuffling blankets to make room on your lap for her head. You’d play with her hair and hum her to sleep as she cried on your lap over a boy who didn’t deserve her.

As you two had grown close an unspoken thing rose between you.

Little kisses through the day, always over before you could move towards her. Cuddling into her bed at night, warm bodies pressed against each other as you fell asleep to the lullaby of her beating heart. Makeout sessions in the forest when no one was around but the trees and birds and all of earth's problems melted away when her hands were in your hair and her lips planted on yours.

Raven hadn’t been one much for public PDA and for a while you thought that was just how she was. It never really bothered you, so what if she didn't feel like sharing your intimate moments in front of a group of immature strangers.

That was until Finn approached you and asked if you knew what boy she was seeing.

*    *   *   *   *   *   *   *

You rolled your eyes as Finn sauntered toward you.

“Hey.” his voice sounded exhausted. Much like everyone's did nowadays.

His hands were shoved in his pockets and he glanced around as if searching for someone. With all that you knew about Finn, you had never actually spoken to him. In fact, you actively avoided him. Desperate not to give off the impression that you were willing to talk to him you let out a hum of acknowledgment.

“I'm worried about Raven.”

Your eyes shot up to meet him. He had no right to worry about her, anything worry-worthy had been his fault. You bit back all the lectures and insults you'd thought you'd say to him someday, the ones you thought up while wiping tears with your shirt sleeve.

“Why.”

“I heard her talking to Octavia the other day about a guy she was seeing. I don’t think she knew I was there but..” he sighed, his hand going in towards his greasy hair as you tried not to grimace at its look.

“None of the guys here are good for her.”

Yeah, none of the guys.

You shoot him a frown and bit back your laugh. “No, but if she was seeing someone how would I be able to tell?”

“Well, when we were together she was always very affectionate. Holding hands in public and kisses all the time. She’s really big on PDA. Ya know?”

You didn't know.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

You held in your emotions for a few days, desperately trying not to let his ridiculous words get to you. But you couldn't help it as you drifted away from Raven. Every time you were together your mind drifted to her and Finn on the ark, holding hands and kissing in the halls where anyone could see. Your mind soaked up awful thoughts until you felt your heart might just explode.

This led to you storming into her tent in a fit of anger. You waved your hands furiously through the air as you told her about the conversation you'd had with Finn.

“I know you're not over Finn, and I know you're just using me to get over him but you don't want him to know about it in case he wants you back. I won't be your safety guard to fall back on until you're ready to get up and walk away!”

“What? That’s not what’s going on at all.”

“Oh yeah, cause it sure as hell seems like every time we’re out you want nothing to do with me. You won't even hold my hand outside this tent much less kiss me.”

“Y/n listen to me!”

“No, I’m so sick of this shit”

You loved her but you weren’t going to sit and watch her fawn over her asshole ex.

When the yelling had gotten too much for you to handle you stormed out of the tent, sweat running down your back from the hot weather and your bubbling anger. You hate how it felt and how it reminded you of stupid Finn and his stupid greasy hair. You remembered a stream you had seen on one of your forest explorations with Raven.

Raven. Raven. Raven.

You hated how even when you were mad and anger flowed through your veins, you couldn’t escape the thoughts of her. You needed to get out.

The stream was probably a 20-minute walk from camp. You knew the woods weren’t safe but you couldn’t stand being cooped up in camp for a second longer. You took one of Ravens’ guns with you, just in case.

When you reached the steam you glanced around before stripping. The woods were hauntingly beautiful, but every time you looked at them all you could see was Raven. Her back pressed against the trees as her fingers weaved knots in your hair. Your fingers slipping under her shirt exploring the curves of her hips. Her lips against yours, silent gasps for air interrupting the rustling of leaves.

You wadded into the water as if it could wash the thoughts from your mind. The water was like ice and only reached enough to go a little over your knees. The light breeze made goosebumps peak from your skin as the water suddenly seemed much warmer. You squatted down, the algae rocks tickling your toes. Splashing your face with the cool water, you scrubbed it, thankful to get rid of the sticky sweat that had built up over the weeks you’d been on earth. You took a deep breath and tried to relax your muscles.

As you sat in the water you thought about everything that’s been going on. More specifically everything going on with Raven. You hadn’t even let Raven explain herself before you stormed out. Your quick temper was always your biggest problem. Hell, it's how you ended up down here in the first palace. Guilt was a sickly feeling, it nestled into your stomach and made you feel like a monster.

Suddenly the woods felt too empty, The river too dirty and everything too loud. You felt loneliness fill your heart, its claws creeping their way up as you choked back sobs. As Raven's face once again visited your memory you decided it was best to get back and apologize before the sun disappeared and sleep took your lover.

As you got closer to camp you took note of the eerie silence, a major contrast from the usual laughs and shouts that filled the camp. Walking in you saw why. Everyone was crowded around the dropship. Most people looked indifferent or only had slight concern etched across their faces. That was until you came across Octavia standing at the front.

She looked as if she would just about pass out. Fear covered her whole face as she tapped her foot impatiently. A walkie-talkie clenched tightly in her hand as her teeth pulled tightly against her bleeding lip.

“What’s going on”

Without her eyes ever leaving the doors of the drop ship she answered you.

“Murphys got Bellamy trapped inside. I- I think he’s going to kill him. Jaspers under the ship trying to get him out.”

You surveyed the crowds trying to find Raven but nowhere was the girl donning the red puffer jacket anywhere to be seen.

“Where's Raven?”

Octavia’s eyes flickered to you for only a moment before returning to the dropship. But with that one look, you knew she didn’t want to tell you.

“Octavia, where is she.” You moved in front of her, blocking her view of the dropship. Annoyance flashed across her features but it quickly vanished.

She sighed “She's under there helping Jasper but-”

That was all you needed to hear before you turned around and headed toward the dropship. Before you could make it two steps Octavia had grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You considered pulling your arm out of hers or even pushing her down so she would let you go. But the girl had a grip like iron and an attitude to match.

“She’s got this. By going in there you could mess up everything. Just trust her. Okay?”

You nodded and stayed put. But her words did nothing to ease the fear that washed over you like a tsunami, drowning you.

A gunshot rang through the air and Octavia’s grip on your arm tightened. One part in an effort to reassure herself and another part to keep you put.

You weren’t super religious but at that moment you begged whoever -if anyone- above to make sure Raven came out of this alive and unharmed.

Minutes seemed like hours until finally a familiar mop of brown hair appeared from beneath the dropship. You felt every muscle in your body relax and the headache that you hadn't even noticed disband.

You shrugged out of Octavia’s grasp and ran to Jasper quickly engulfing him in a hug. His arms hung limp at his sides and you could see his anxiety written across his face. But at least they were okay.

“Oh thank god”

You peered behind him, expecting to see Raven, but no one was there.

As if sensing your unspoken question he spoke,

“She’s still in the dropship. She-”

But you were already gone.

As you squirmed your way through the complicated working of the dropship you spotted the brunette. Your lungs filled with air and the knot in your chest eased. She was okay.

“Raven ..”

She jumped at your sudden appearance and something within the circuit she was working on sparked. She let out a slight scream as the sparks burnt the tips of her fingers.

You both looked up as the noises from above ceased

And then came the gunshots.

After the first one, you dived over her without a second thought, knocking you both to the ground. You heard her head hit the ground with a loud thunk as the air left her lungs. You covered her body with yours tucking your head into her neck as you covered her face with your hands. You breathed in her scent as bullets rained down on you. You could feel her heart's erratic beating against your chest. It felt like forever until they finally stopped.

When they did Raven wasted no time moving you off of her and getting back to the control panel, finishing what she started.

You however couldn’t move.  

Damn adrenaline.

You took a few deep breaths and calmed your heart as much as you possibly could. You tightened your muscles in an attempt to sit up, the same way you've sat up your entire life. Except for this time, your muscles wouldn’t tighten. It was as if they had stopped working entirely.

“Raven “ you called out to her. You were terrified, your heartbeat so loudly you could feel it in your eardrums. She was too focused on finishing the control panel to hear you. Finally, she got it, shooting you one of those proud smiles you always loved. It quickly dissolved when she saw the fear on your face as tears streamed down from your eyes.

“I can’t move. Oh god. Oh my god. “ Your tears turned to sobs as your body shook. She was by your side in a second as she quickly took to examining your body.

“I can’t find a wound.”

“Please, please, please Raven.” She had no idea what to do but couldn’t bear to watch you break to pieces in her arms.

Slowly she moved you so you were sitting up, and although it took a while she was able to get you up and onto her back.

A bang sounded from above and the whole room shook. Her hand slipped from its grip on your thigh but she quickly managed to catch it.

She held your legs as you wrapped your arms around her neck. Although your cries were no longer audible she felt you shake against her back as warm tears splashed her shoulder.

Before she even got into the camp she was yelling.

“WHERE'S CLARKE. SOMEBODY GET CLARKE.” the blonde rushed to her side, a sharp intake escaping when she saw you.

“She says she can’t move. Murphy shot her. I couldn’t find the wound but I don’t know.” She tried desperately not to cry.

Not now.  Raven thought.  Not when she's breaking.

She carried you into the dropship, laying you carefully down on the table. It took a while but Clarke finally made it in to help.

After sanitizing her hands with what was left of the alcohol she looked at Raven. They both knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“I need to get the bullet out. Can you distract her?”

Raven nodded and held your hand tighter. You could feel her warm palm against hers, the only thing keeping you from falling apart in a fit of hysterics. That was about the only thing you could feel. Everything below your chest was dead weight.

“Remember how you thought I wasn’t showing you public affection because I still had feelings for Finn?” Clarke risked a quick glance at the girls before resuming her work.

You felt her fingers enter the wound in your back and let out a scream.

“Is now really the best time to talk about this” you tried to say between screams and grunts. She nodded, a determined look on her face.

“That’s not why.”

“Okay..” you urged her to go on so you could focus on her voice instead of the fingers probing around underneath your skin.

“No one knows that I am ya know,” although she didn't make a show of it you knew Clarke was listening.

“And I guess I was just- am just, afraid of the way people might look at me.” the raw emotion on her face almost made you forget what was happening.  Almost.

You screamed again as Clarke’s fingers exited the wound.

“Got it. Now comes the painful part” You looked at her in horror.

She turned your head away so that you were once again looking at Raven. The brunette couldn't hide the horror that flashed across her face at whatever Clarke was doing behind you.

“Trust me, it’s best not to watch this part.”

Raven almost couldn’t handle the look of fear on your face. She wanted to wrap you up in her arms and keep you safe and away from this cruel world. She laced her finger between yours, light kisses against the back of your hand in an attempt to calm your pounding heart and shaky breaths.

Clarke handed her a cloth for you to bite on. It would stop you from breaking your own teeth is what she had said.

Raven squeezed your hand in reassurance and placed a gentle kiss on your head as you let out a ground trembling scream. She felt her heart fall to pieces at the sound. The world around you disappeared as you tried desperately to focus on Raven instead of the hot metal searing your flesh.

And then-

It was over.

You just lay there, studying Raven. Her lower lip was redder than the top one due to her gnawing on it anxiously. Her eyelashes were long and cast delicate shadows across her high cheekbones. Her jawline was sharp and unmoving. Skin pulled tight in a frown of worry. The whole thing had taken a toll on you. But you refused to let yourself fall asleep.

“Raven, I’m so sorry.”

She let out a sad laugh as tears started forming in her eyes

“Never do that again.”  She wanted to scream at you. She wanted to hit you and yell at you for being so stupid. For putting her life above yours and trying to be the hero. But she knew you wouldn’t be able to handle that. Not today at least.

Your eyelids were so heavy. You decided you would just close them, not sleep.

As your eyes fluttered closed Raven turned to Clarke.

Is she going to be okay?

“Yes, but…”

“But what”

“She suffered a slight spinal cord injury. I don’t know how bad it is. She might be able to walk again in six months or a year or possibly never.”

As you heard these words your mind drifted as the welcoming arms of sleep embraced you.

As longs as Raven is okay,

I can handle it.

Pt.2

[moscnios]

                                             SOUL ━ﾞ

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           kujo jotaro           fem!reader

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           au           angst           fluff           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           the orphaned vampire prince of the           joestar kingdom, jotaro spends his           days alone in the castle that used           to belong to the family that was taken           away from him in his youth by humans.           but one day he meets a human woman           who will change him forever.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           mentions of death ‘ a bit of ooc jotaro tbh

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           2.5k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           this wasn’t the request word for word           per say but i started writing and i couldn’t           stop. so i really hope you enjoy this one.

A light nightly wind slipped through the dark green leaves of the tall trees of the forest. The wind’s whisper was soft and distant, but it could be heard many miles away through the heightened sense of hearing of one being.

Through the chilly winds was another being that interrupted its flow. Its flight was as silent as the dead, as it inched closer and closer to the castle that sat in the middle of the dark forest. Its bright yellow eyes were all that could be seen.

The lanterns placed at the entrance of the castle had revealed the creature. A gray-brown great horned owl flying up to one of the high balconies, perching itself on the shoulder of a dark-haired man who had leaned against the railing.

The man took a long drag from the oddly-colored pipe in his hand, letting the smoke out through his mouth, partially revealing sharp fangs. He opened his eyes, revealing the irises. His irises were blue-green, blood-red had glossed over them in the moonlight from above.

He hummed lowly, staring at the moon.

Tomorrow was the day.

The night the moon would be its fullest.

The night he would bind his immortal dark soul, to the mortal, pure soul of the woman he had come to love.

If you had told him he would be marrying a mortal woman one day, he'd probably kill you where you stood. But when she washed up on the gates of his castle two years ago, bruised and battered with no place to go, his life changed forever.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” The young maiden’s voice’s reached his ears from across the room. She stood, terrified in the corner of the cold room with a glass shard in her hand dressed in old linen he could not fit anymore, as opposed to the bloodied rags she showed up on his doorstep with.

He gave her the change of clothes to not only protect her but to control his vampiric urges.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew who he was, rather what he was. It had dawned on her the moment she found what she assumed abandoned castle in the middle of the forest.

It was clear as night. She had heard the many tales of what lurked deep in the unexplored forest. Ferocious beasts that were taller than man, demon children of the devil, witches of the elements, and bloodthirsty vampires. The red irises that pierced through the darkness of the night he took her by the throat did not fool anybody.

He was a vampire. But not just any vampire.

Prince Kujo Jotaro, the last prince of the Joestar bloodline.

She had heard the tale over and over again through her childhood of the tragedy of the Joestar bloodline and their kingdom from almost a millennium ago. How the kingdom had fallen apart. How its citizens and the Joestars themselves had met their end. How only one remained. Or at least that is what she believed the story had been.

“Would you have preferred me to?” He answered her question with another question.

It was the first time she heard him speak since she had taken shelter unwillingly in his abode. His voice was monotone, uncaring of anything.

Though the truth was, he was unsure. He had been asking himself the same question since he brought her in, checking up on her the past few days, controlling his bloodlust to tend to her wounds and care for them the best he could.

She was a walking blood bank for the taking. She practically plopped down at his feet. Her intoxicating humanly scent, the blood rushing through her veins, her pounding heart. She was just the perfect catch to sink his fangs into and drain the precious life she clung so dearly to as she struggled in his grasp as he had done other victims.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Though she feared him, she stood her ground. She wasn’t going down without a fight, made apparent by the glass shard she held in her hand toward him. Even if she had no chance, she still wanted to attempt to make it out of here alive.

“What is your name?”

She didn’t say, rather firing out an insult.

Her words had begun to irritate him. With a blink of an eye, he stood in front of her. With no time to react, he removed the glass shard she held pushed her further into the corner, entrapping her with the weight of his body. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

Had this been the end?

Jotaro had leaned down, near the shell of her ear. He whispered, “Do you fear me?” He lowered his head further, as she gulped shallowly preparing for her end. She could feel his lips ghosting over the skin of her neck, breath sending chills down her spine.

“N-n-no!” She stuttered out, lying to both herself and him.

He pulled himself away from her as if nothing happened, leaving her out of breath and confused. With that, he had left her. The door was wide open for her to escape, to which she had done. She didn’t spare him a second glance she ran out of his castle back into the forest.

She had nowhere to call her home, but she couldn’t stick around and be the meal of a vampire.

But alas her escape was cut short. Tripping over a large tree root, right into the clutches of a tall blonde man who had lurked in the shadows with those similar red eyes to Jotaro’s. Just her luck to run from one vampire into the hands of another one.

He had done this on purpose. He set her up!

( y/n ) backed into the tree, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“A young, beautiful maiden all alone in these parts of the forest? It’s dangerous out here. Are you lost, little one?” He grinned.

The pet name sent chills down her spine, but not in the way Jotaro’s breath did. This was viler, more disgusting. She hated this feeling, this gross feeling he had on her.

She took in his face, he was quite breath-taking. He was sculpted by the devil himself, dressed in the finest fabrics.

He inched closer to her, as she scooted back further.

“Don’t fear me, little one. I just would—”

She backed into a figure, one that did not feel like a tree. One that felt like strong legs.

“Dio.”

That voice. He had come back, standing right above her.

Jotaro.

“Oh come on, Jotaro. I’m sure you can share your company. Only for a little bite,” The one named Dio suggested with a wink followed by him licking his lips.

Jotaro had reached down, pulling ( y/n ) up to her feet by the back of the shirt she wore. He ushered her behind him, a protective hand placed high on her waist. His touch startled and confused her. Did he not send her to her own death by this man? Was he really trying to save her? Why?

“Jotaro, protecting a mere human?” Dio laughed hysterically. “You Joestars with your human affairs. You would think you’d hate every last one of them after what happened to your poor family before your young eyes, Jotaro. Humans are not our friends. They lie about us, they harm us, they hate us, they fear us.”

“She does not fear me,” He defended. His voice was still flat, void of emotion, but his hand had seemed too tight on her waist for a brief moment as if he was giving her a reassuring squeeze.

A squeeze that was meant to put her at ease and let go of the worries that clouded her mind. A squeeze that was meant to make her trust his words. A squeeze that was meant to show this was his fight. The sudden squeeze was different from earlier when he towered over her in his castle. She did not feel like a helpless doe, rather protected and guarded by the vampire of tall stature.

But his touch was as gone as fast as it had come. He removed his hand from her waist, returning it to his side. It left her with an emptiness that was unexplainable.

“Run,” He whispered to her.

“W-What? But I—”

His eyes hardened, as he looked over his shoulder to her, “If you don’t have a damn soul you care about in this world, then stay here and die! So be it! But if there is one soul, just one soul you want to see again, then you run and you don’t look back.”

One soul?

Not a single one had come to mind. She was alone, without anyone to care for. When she landed at his doorstep, she had been abandoned, left to die.

Those bruises she wore were nothing done by the forest or any beast known to man. Those bruises were caused by the hands of other humans. By the souls who were supposed to be her family.

So there was not a single mortal soul she cared about in this earth, this harsh realm that spared no one. She barely found the strength to care about her own. But there had been a new soul she wondered about.

The immortal, impure soul of the man that stood in between her and her fate.

An evil that stood in the way of another evil.

“What about you?” The words tumbled out of her mouth. He was a strong man, she was sure he could take care of him. Not that she even cared, at least she believed so. But he was the only soul who had shown her such kindness through his own harsh way. But it was kindness nevertheless.

He hadn’t answered her question with words, leaving her with a telling silence.

He didn’t plan on seeing her again. Not that he even believed he would if she made it out of there in time. Nor did he believe he deserved to see her again. He didn’t plan on making it out of this battle alive.

This was his judgment day and he embraced it with open arms.

“I’m sorry...” She muttered out. She turned on her heel, running away from the scene. Her mind has called her a coward. There wasn’t much she could do now. She was mortal, she couldn’t stop a fight between the supernatural even if she wanted.

Her feet came to a sudden halt as a loud groan, followed by a hard thump among the commotion behind her sounded.

She had done what she told him she wouldn’t do. The action that would change her life forever.

She looked back.

Her ( e/c ) eyes had met a scene she could barely make out from her distance, but it was clear who the current winner had been.

Dio held a battered Jotaro up by his throat. He did not struggle, he did not fight, he had just accepted his loss. Though another competitor had made itself apparent before her unbeknownst to the two other fighters.

The sunlight.

Her feet had moved on their own, right back to them. She had no clear plan, but her goal was clear. To save Jotaro from perishing in the sunlight. Even he didn’t understand what her plan was at first, until she collided with him roughly, shielding his body the best she could from the bright rays of the morning.

“What are you—! You…harlot!”

A horrific screech filled their ears until it faded into nothingness.

“You came back and…saved me. Why?”

“The same reason you didn’t kill me the night you found me.”

He didn’t understand what he had done to earn her care. After the battle, she shielded him from the light, making it back into the darkness of his castle where light could not shine through. The wounds he sustained were life-threatening, making it hard for him to move.

He expected his sins had caught up to him, expecting he had finally reached the end of his days. Jotaro closed his eyes for what he believed would be the last time and drifted into a deep slumber.

Alas, his slumber did not last forever. He arose in a cool sweat, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as he looked around the familiar bedroom he had spent his entire life in.

He lived? He was alive?

He stared down at his arms and exposed chest, his wounds were almost completely healed. How long had it been?

A calmly beating heart filled his ears, sounding from just at his bedside. There she said asleep, ( y/n ). She sat in a chair with her head resting on the side of the featherbed. She had been worn out, skinnier than he remembered, dressed in some more old clothes of his, bandages covered her hands. She looked peaceful as she slept, he thought. An involuntary smile had come to his face.

She was the reason he was alive. She took care of him. She...she didn’t leave him alone. He remembered how he reached a hand out to stroke her cheek. Instead of moving away from him as anyone else had, she relaxed under his touch. “Thank you,” He recalled whispering to her.

“Can’t sleep?” That same melodic voice reached his ears from behind him. He could hear the sound of her calm heart beating in her chest from where he stood on the balcony. It put him at ease.

The owl resting on his shoulder had flown away into the night. The light shuffle of her feet grew louder and louder until they came to a sudden halt.

( y/n ) wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, letting her head rest on his broad back, "Having doubts about tomorrow?"

He relaxed under her gentle touch. She had always been so gentle with him. "Why would I?"

"You always answer my questions with questions, why is it?" She pointed out.

"I suppose it's a habit of mine. Now answer this question," He turned around in her embrace, now face to face with the mortal. Not just many mortal, the woman who changed his view of the cruel world that took his family away from him. She changed his view of humans, she wasn't the monster the others had been. She gave him a new reason to live.

Love.

He continued, "Why are you awake, ( y/n )? It's awfully late."

"I couldn't fall asleep. So I thought a late-night stroll around the castle would help me feel tired, and I found you here," She answered, pushing a loose of his hair behind his ear. "We're not supposed to see each other until the ceremony tomorrow when our souls are finally bound as one."

The corners of his mouth curled into a grin, "When have you ever been one to follow the law set in place?"

"You are right about that. If I did follow the law set in place we wouldn't have met one another. I don't know where I would be without you."

"And you'll never have to think about being without me. For the rest of our days, however long that may be, I'll be yours, heart and soul."

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION …

[allisondraste]

Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep On Living

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4019

Summary: It's only been two weeks since the Reaper War ended, and the Alliance is already trying to bury Shepard.

[Click Here for A03]

Two weeks.  It had only been two weeks since the war ended, since that devastating flash of red light burst from the Citadel and bounced off every active relay in the galaxy, since the Reapers fell dead in space and the Normandy crash landed on some tropical little human colony world just on the edge of the Terminus Systems.  It had just been two weeks, but the Alliance and the rest of the whole damn galaxy were already willing to declare Shepard dead.  And to add insult to injury, they’d  given Garrus the great honor and privilege of hanging her name up on a memorial wall in some trite ceremony to make the crew feel better.

“There isn’t anyone who could’ve been at the epicenter of that blast and survived,” Hackett had explained, far too matter-of-factly. “It’s time for us to move forward.”

“Shepard isn’t just anyone,” Garrus had replied, and then promptly told the admiral where to shove his plaque. It was not his finest moment.

Now, he sat in the mess hall, alone and staring down at the dextro-amino rations he’d barely touched. The bastardized version of some overly seasoned human dish would have been unappetizing even if he had an appetite. But he didn’t.  Something about the person he loved being declared dead left a sour taste in his mouth.  He’d only even tried to eat because Liara insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood for another well meant lecture about taking care of himself.

No longer willing to bother, he shoved the plate away from him with the back of his hand, and looked up in just enough time to catch Williams walk past him.  She stopped, performed a proper about-face and marched up to his table.

“Hey,” Ash greeted him like she’d never spoken to him before in her life.

“Hey,” Garrus replied and watched as she shifted uncomfortably and darted her eyes around the entire room before meeting his gaze.

She motioned to an empty seat across the table from him. “Can I— I mean, do you want some company? You just look—”

“Like I’m one news vid about the ‘late’ Commander Shepard away from going postal?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah.”

Williams smirked and  eased herself down onto the bench without waiting for him to agree to her company. “I was going to say ‘like shit,’ but that works too.”

He answered her dryly. “Gee. Thanks.”

There was a pause in conversation, then Ash tilted her head in that sympathetic way every human who knew him seemed to do since Earth. “Seriously though… how are you holding up?”

I’m not , Garrus thought, but the words didn’t make it to his mouth, just sarcasm.. “Didn’t realize you cared… or is this just one of those human things where you pretend to care for my benefit?”

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who pretends to do anything for anyone’s benefit, especially yours?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

“Listen, this is off the record but… Hackett had that mouthful coming.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m just glad it was you that said it and not me because, well, I like my job.”

If anyone had told Garrus that one day, he’d have a heart-to-heart with the human woman who’d spent their entire first mission together shooting daggers at him from across Normandy’s shuttle bay, he’d have said they were crazy.  But there they were, raw from the absence of someone who meant so much to the both of them.

“It’s been two weeks,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “ Two. They haven’t even found her bod—“ he tried and failed to choke back the lump in his throat,  but continued talking anyway, glancing up at her— “It’s too damn soon, Ash.”

“I know,” came her firm reply as she reached across the table.  She hesitated for a split second, but then let her hand fall on top of his.  Deep brown eyes welled up with tears that she tried to blink away.  She let out a frustrated huff as one rolled down her cheek anyway, then cleared her throat.  “ Damn. Pretend this isn’t happening.” “Pretend what isn’t happening, Williams?”

“Perfect,” she remarked, wiping her face with the heel of her free hand and laughing. “Kind of hard to believe it’s only been three years since we tracked down Saren.  Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“And look at us now, being mostly civil,” he said with a sigh, staring down at Ash’s hand.  Alien as it was, it reminded him of Shepard’s, strong to be as small as it was, with too many fingers.  He recalled the many times those fingers had traced the hard edges of his face, how that hand had fit so comfortably into his (after a few clumsy attempts, of course).  He’d take another missile to the face to hold it again.

“You know, Shepard worked her ass off to convince me it’d be fine having aliens on board an Alliance vessel,” Ash observed playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You? Paranoid over a handful of non-humans? I’m shocked .”

“Nothing personal,” she explained,“Just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a station with a guy whose grandpa probably shot at mine during the War.”

“Hate to break it to you but—” he leaned back in his seat— “My grandfather was just a run of the mill C-Sec officer.  All he would have done was write your grandfather a nasty citation. ‘Being human in Citadel space,’ used to be a finable offense.”

“God,” she said with another laugh, “Back then, I rolled my eyes and told Shepard I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. ‘You tell me to jump, I ask how high.  You tell me to kiss a turian, I’ll ask which cheek.’”

“We don’t really have cheeks,” Garrus corrected, laughing when Ash shot him a pointed look, “But that’s beside the point.  I’m guessing Shepard never followed through with that order.”

“No, she told me, and I quote, ‘Nobody’s going to be kissing any turians on this mission, Ash,’” she said in her best Shepard impression, then muttered, “Fucking liar.”

“Well, to her credit, I don’t think she planned on me being so… irresistable.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, ladykiller .”

There was another pause in conversation, and her expression fell.  She looked down to where her hand still lay on his. “Back then, I just assumed you’d jump ship as soon as things got rocky, as soon as we— as Shepard — really needed you, but…” She trailed off, grip tightening around his hand.  “You never let her down, not once.  Not even when I—”

“You didn’t let her down, Ash,” he argued, sensing where she was headed, “She never thought that.”

“Yeah, well I do,” she snapped, words clipped, “I should have seen the signs that Cerberus had her pinned down, but I let my ego get in the way.  I’m surprised she wanted anything to do with me after that.”

“You’re not the only one who has ever screwed up trying to do the right thing,” he reassured her, “Shepard, of all people, understood that.”

“That’s… you’re probably right,” she nodded and looked up at him, “Thanks. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Uh, sorry for what?”

“For ever believing you weren’t an important part of the crew,” she stated seriously, then smiled, “And for calling you birdbrain  behind your back.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in amusement, and he gave her hand a few friendly pats. “No harm done,” he said, then paused for a beat, “Besides, you didn’t hear what I said behind your back.”

One of her eyebrows shot up. “You talked shit about me?”

“So much.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” shouted a familiar voice from across the mess, causing them both to snap their heads toward the sound. “Somebody get this heartwarming moment on camera.”

Ash stiffened, retracting her hand quickly and stuffing it under the table. “Joker.”

“Hey, Joker.” Garrus waved. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered, words pointed. “You know, aside from the soul-crushing agony of my girlfriend dying. ”

Garrus had spent enough time around humans to know that the Flight Lieutenant looked rough, even for someone who’d never cared about keeping up appearances.  His eyes were red, the skin underneath dark enough that even the shadow cast from his hat couldn’t disguise the lack of sleep. He made his way unsteadily to the table and sat down next to Williams.

Garrus opened his mouth, preparing to speak, to express sympathy, but Joker cut him off. “And before you start with any of that ‘I understand how you feel’ crap— no you don’t.  Everyone knows you can’t say Shepard’s dead until we’ve ID’d the body.  Maybe not even then. She just keeps living… like a cockroach. ”

“You know you could just say, ‘I’m not doing so hot,” right?” Ash scolded him,  but there was still a softness to her voice. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Yeah, but see… being an ass is way more my style.”

The table went completely quiet as Joker crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, tension palpable enough it might as well have had mass.  Not one for tolerating awkward silences, Garrus ventured a question. “What the hell is a cockroach?”

Ash smiled, clearly thankful for the change in subject, and began to explain. “They’re these—“

“ Beetles ,” Joker cut her off, “Big, disgusting ones that are supposed to be able to survive extreme conditions other organics can’t.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus admitted with a shrug.

The pilot flinched and glared at him. “Wait. I called Shepard a disgusting beetle and you’re just okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I be,” he asked sarcastically, “It actually explains why she kept molting. ”

“You’re having fun. Stop it,” Joker whined, scowl deepening, “Stop having fun!”

Garrus laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. My cockroach is missing.”

Joking though he was, his words were honest, something Joker must have detected.  His expression softened even as he puffed his chest out. He deflated immediately as another familiar voice called out, likely interrupting whatever barrage of barbs he’d prepared to hurl at Garrus. This time, it was Vega who strutted over to the table carrying an entire fifth of some sort of human liquor.  Cortez trailed solemnly behind him, examining the rectangular objects in his hands.

“Yo, don’t tell me the party started without us,” shouted Vega, setting the alcohol down on the table with a loud clank , pointing a thumb back at Cortez, “Esteban here took forever polishing the name plaques.”

Garrus stiffened at the mention of the plaques, knowing full and well there had been one commissioned with Shepard’s name on it despite all his protests. Turned out, the Alliance brass didn’t give a damn about some loud mouth former C-Sec officer or his feelings after all. He just hoped none of the humans were able to read the pain in his expression— a hope that was in vain if the sympathetic glance Cortez gave him was any indication.

“What’s that for?” Ashley pointed to the bottle of amber liquid Vega sat on the table.

“What do you think,” Vega asked, as if his intentions should have been completely clear, “I’m going to pour one out for the commander.”

“All over the Normandy's floor?” She raised her brows at him.

“Nah.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “Just down the sink or somethin’.”

She picked the bottle up and examined the label more closely. “But…this is expensive stuff, James.”

“Don’t care,” came Vega’s indignant response, “It’s for Lola.”

Ashley gave him a solemn nod, seeming to understand whatever peculiar human tradition he was planning to perform. Satisfied, Vega turned his attention to Joker, snagging his cap, flipping it around, and placing it down on his head backwards. Joker cursed and grumbled, calling Vega a bully among other things, but Vega just smiled and walked over to Garrus, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Slowly, the rest of the crew began to filter in, each with their own expressions of concern.  Traynor and Tali arrived together, deep in conversation if the emphatic hand gestures were any indication.  They both quieted as they arrived at the table, Traynor frowning and bowing her head, whileTali approached and slid comfortably  into the seat next to Garrus.

She looked down at the uneaten food and back up at him, giving him a nudge with her elbow and complaining. “You are wasting all of the good dextro rations.”

“Good? Oh, come on,  we both know it’s garbage.”

“Well… yes, but it’s digestible garbage,” she said, holding a finger up to make her point.  Her voice softened when she continued. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything the past few days.”

He sighed and looked down at the rations. “Yeah.”

Tali observed him for a second, eyes glowing behind her helmet. She then grabbed his plate and slid it toward him. “Eat up, Vakarian. Or else I will have to feed you myself… with a spoon I am pretending is the Normandy.”

Garrus let out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’ll work, Tali.”

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t heard my engine noises.”  She laughed along with him for a few seconds, then grew quiet once again and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “The Alliance is going to feel very silly when Shepard gets back and they have to explain why they hung her name up on the wall and sold her hamster.”

“ If she makes it back this time.”

“She will,” Tali asserted, voice cracking, “She has to.”

It was Javik who entered next, voice booming in a debate with Liara, who had taken it upon herself to explain human customs for memorializing the dead. He shook his head and ignored her entirely, stating that if he wished for a history lesson, he would ask for one.  He then snapped his many-eyed gaze to Garrus.

“You should not be saddened about Shepard’s fate, Garrus.  She died with great honor.”

Liara let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in one of the empty seats at the next table over, bringing her hand to her face.

“What is it, asari?” Javik snapped, “Honor in death is something turians hold in high regard, is it not? This should be a great comfort to him.”

“Perhaps with time,” Liara explained,”But right now it is… insensitive.”

“It’s nothing my dad hasn’t already told me a dozen times,” Garrus stated flatly, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Weird that a fifty-thousand year-old Prothean reminded him of his dad.  Then again, Castis Vakarian was as about as traditional as turians came, and they butted heads on almost every subject, including but not limited to: Garrus’ disregard for rules, his decision to leave C-Sec—twice, his “risk- and attention-seeking” behavior, and his “absurd infatuation with a human woman”. Their relationship had always been strained, to say the least. Still, he had always been there when Garrus needed him, and listened when it mattered. He was the first call Garrus made from the medbay after the Reapers were destroyed, when he realized Shepard might not be coming back.

He’d been sympathetic, but not even remotely comforting, not unlike Javik was at present. Garrus just didn’t have it in him to explain to either how little he cared about the honorable nature of her sacrifice, the high esteem the galaxy now held her in, or the way history would remember her. None of that mattered when she wasn’t at his side.  How could he be proud, when all he felt was empty?

Once all parties arrived and settled in, the group spent time talking and sharing memories. The Alliance crew members all told stories about encounters with Admiral Anderson, how he more often felt like a parent than a commanding officer, and how his reputation was so much larger than his ego. Traynor did most of the talking about EDI, their friendship, and how seamlessly she’d fit into the crew, how easy it had been to forget she was an AI. Joker just pulled the bill of his cap down to cover his eyes.  Then, the reminiscence moved to the commander.

Every single person present had a story about Shepard, about how she went above and beyond the call of duty to help them, and to make sure they were taken care of while aboard the Normandy.  Shepard had always taken time to check in with the people who worked for her, even when the galaxy was falling apart and herself along with it.  She was a good leader, arguably the best, and an even better friend.  It was clear that everyone in the room admired her, and that she was missed.

Garrus knew he should say something, tell one of the many stories of the trouble he and Shepard had gotten into together. The others all watched him expectantly as he scrambled for words.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his omni-tool, followed by several bright flashes of light. He cursed and pulled up the interface to silence the damn thing.  An urgent message alert flashed on his screen, and he tapped the icon to open it.

From: Dr. Chloe Michel

Subject: Jane Doe

Dear Garrus,

I hope this email reaches you, and that you are still alive to read it.  I am on the Citadel working with an emergency medical unit out of what is left of  Huerta Memorial. The blast from the Crucible caused some severe structural damage near the epicenter, and we have been searching the area to find and identify survivors and remains.

There is a Jane Doe here, who I believe you might know. Please contact me on a private channel whenever you are able.

Take Care,

Chloe

His heart sank like lead into his gut as he read what could only be a request to come in and identify a corpse.  The space around him was suddenly too full, too loud, and the curious eyes of his companions lingered on him for far longer than comfortable. He tapped the display on his omni-tool once again to close it, glancing around the room from one set of eyes to another.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The truth would only cause unnecessary alarm he wasn’t equipped to handle at the moment.  He stood abruptly, a jolt of pain coursing through his leg that was still recovering from a fracture, and excused himself. “Just need to make a quick call.”

“Now,” Liara asked, frowning, “But the memorial ceremony was just about to begin.”

“So start without me,” he snapped and made his way to the main battery.  He’d apologize later, when his world wasn’t caving in.

The battery doors shut behind him with a familiar hiss and he sank down into his seat next to the workbench where his favorite rifle lay surrounded by tools and unused thermal clips. It had taken a beating in the battle on Earth, and Garrus had poured over repairing it in the days following its end.  He hadn’t touched it since.  There were no more enemies to fight, and the gun just reminded him of Shepard.

Bringing up his omni-tool once again, Garrus established a link using the information Michel provided him.  He only waited a second or two before a voice on the other end picked up.

“Garrus,” exclaimed the woman, “I am so glad you received my message.”

“About that Jane Doe,” he began, cutting straight to the chase, “I— do you need me to identify the b— her ?”

“No… it is Commander Shepard,” she explained, “I am absolutely certain.”

“ Oh, ” Garrus said with the breath he’d been holding.  He was glad he was already sitting down, as the last shreds of hope he’d been clinging to slipped from his grasp leaving him dizzy and sick.  It was Shepard.  She was dead. There was nothing to be done about it.

He took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts, cleared his throat and told the doctor, “I, uh…I’m not really sure how to— I mean, I guess I should make funeral arrangements. That’d be better than letting the Alliance—“

“Garrus,” Michel interjected firmly, “She’s alive.”

“ What,” he asked, more loudly than he’d intended.  Hoping nobody had overheard outside, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean, how is she? What’s her condition? Is she going to—”

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor interrupted again, “Her injuries are serious, and she has been comatose since we found her.  Still, her vitals are strong and stable at present. She is a fighter.”

“She is.”

The line was silent for a beat then Michel spoke up again.  “I had a wonder… Shepard’s body has, ehm… extensive cybernetic modification. More extensive than I have seen. We are not certain how, or if it is even possible to repair all of the damage.”

One name came immediately to mind. “Miranda Lawson.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to contact Miranda Lawson,” Garrus clarified,  “She is an ex-Cerberus operative, the scientist responsible for Shepard’s upgrades. And a friend. She will be able to help. I can send you her contact information.”

“Good, yes. I will contact her immediately,” Michel replied, relief noticeable in her voice. She then sighed and said, “I apologize for sending such a vague email.  I am realizing now that it was likely… anxiety provoking. I simply did not wish for the wrong people to find out about Shepard’s survival.”

Garrus huffed, “Yeah, if the media caught wind of this, it’d be a circus.”

“That is what I feared,” she agreed with a sigh, “Besides, I thought you should be the first to see her. I know she is important to you.”

“Thank you, doc. For everything.”

“It is the very least I can do.  I owe my life to the both of you. Twice over, now it would seem:”

“I’ll get to the Citadel as soon as I can.”

“Talk to you then.”

The call ended with a beep and Garrus shut off his omni-tool display, staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room for several minutes, attempting to recover from the emotional whiplash the last half hour had given him.  He took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and headed back out to the mess hall.

All eyes turned to him as he made his way toward the memorial wall just outside the elevator.  EDI’s and Anderson’s names had already been placed, tears already shed. Now they looked to Garrus, Cortez approaching with the name plaque meant to commemorate Shepard’s death. He took the polished silver plate and examined it, light glinting off its corners as he stepped up to the wall.  For a long moment he traced the letters of a name that had come to mean so much to him, to those crowded in the narrow hallway around him, to the hundreds of thousands who’d cheered from ships in the massive fleet she’d rallied and led to victory, and to the billions of lives she’d saved across the galaxy.  Shepard deserved so much more than a name on a wall.

And now, just maybe, she could have it.

Garrus would have preferred to keep  Shepard’s survival to himself, to snag her from the hospital and elope to some secluded tropical paradise where nobody could ask anything of either of them again, except “Would you like a refill on that incredibly alcoholic beverage?” But he knew he couldn’t do that.  After all, he was not the only one who loved her.

Lowering the plaque, he turned to face the others, all of whom looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern.  He glanced down at Shepard’s name again, mandibles flaring out reflexively as relief and excitement swelled in his chest.

“They found her.  They found Shepard,” he told them, bringing his eyes to meet their gazes as he spoke. “She’s alive.”

[goblinbugthing]

OC Lore: Old God, New Royalty (pt. 1)

He carefully stepped out of the interdimensional rift and onto the soft, lush grass of a forest. He inhaled through his nose, taking in the scent of the nature around him. "Ah… how nice. Just as I had wanted it to be," he spoke to himself, the rift closing up behind him with a quiet breeze. He dulled the fire at the tip of his tail, making sure to not burn anything, and began walking through the terrain.

As he walked, he thought. "I am ever so proud of what I have made," was a line that crossed his mind more than once, likely because it was incredibly true. He couldn't put into words how much he loved what he'd built; it all emerged from nothing into everything, all because of him and his great power. He truly loved and cherished it, from the bottom of his godly heart.

This was the exact reason he decided to visit his most favoured creation, the planet Earth of the Milky Way Galaxy. Lord Galactica said that it was a bad idea, since if the planet's natives saw young God, it could possibly cause a break in reality. He did not want that, goodness no, but he craved to feel what his Earthling creations felt as they lived on their planet. A feeling that could only be felt on Earth, and on Earth alone. He wanted to experience that.

And so, here he was, Nebulis, The Child of the High One, taking a calm stroll in one of Earth's many beautiful forests.

Nebulis took in the sounds around him. Birdsong of various types, light breezes rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding him, his own soft footsteps against the grass… and a sudden inhale. "Oh, wait, oh goodness-- did someone find me? Oh no--"

He turned to his right and came face to face with the tip of a spear, weilded by a young Elven lady with dark brown skin and curly, shoulder-lenght pale green hair, her narrowed eyes a shade of bright emerald. "You there, intruder," she spoke in monotone, though it was clear she was angered. "you are trespassing on Queen Solaris' territory. What say you, in your defense?" Nebulis blinked nervously, struggling to find a response. "Um… I was just going for a walk," he said after gathering his thoughts. The Elf furrowed her eyebrows. "You are still trespassing," she said, moving her spear a bit closer to Nebulis' face. Backing away, he continued speaking. "O-oh, well, I didn't know this was the Elven Forest! There are many forests here on Earth, I-I simply picked this one at random to visit! The scenery here is quite beautiful, thanks to the native flora and fauna… a fit area to experience this planet's highest euphoria."

"Are you delusional?" the Elf questioned. "No--" "What in the name of the Queen herself are you talking about?! 'This planet's highest euphoria?' What does that even mean?!" Nebulis swallowed nervously, his tail flicked about behind him. "Well, each planet in existence has its own unique type of emotion given to its inhabitants that can only be experienced in the proper conditions--" he began to explain, offering a nervous smile to the Elf before she cut him off, holding the sharp edge of her spear against Nebulis' neck. "That was a rhetorical question, you imbecile," she spat. "Ugh. You will be coming with me, Queen Solaris will decide what to do with you."

Since his only choices were to follow the Elf or get stabbed, Nebulis decided on the latter, and slowly nodded. "Good choice," she said, moving to his side and holding her spear against his back, prodding it gently. "Now then, this way. We haven't all day, and in all honesty, I'm sick of your ungodly bright hair." Nebulis' ears lowered sadly. "I don't think insults are necessary..." "Hush and get walking, intruder." "...My apologies."

(I posted a more basic and kinda shitposty version of this part of the lore, but I felt like it didn't show enough detail of what actually happened, so I decided to flesh it out and turn it into an official lore post. Enjoy or something maybe)

[waiting-for-motivation]

trust

summary: Because people always judge and insult (Y/n), she can‘t really trust anybody. That is until she meets a certain archangel.

request: Heya! Could I request a oneshot with gabriel and an alt/goth s/o who’s very stand offish at first. They deal with a lot of creeps and rude people so they aren’t super trusting. Maybe them warming up to Gabriel after he saves them from a creep ~ anon

pairings: Gabriel x Reader

warnings: cursing, blood, violence, piercings and tattoos (not specific) drinking and fluff

words: 948

a/n: I hope you like it and I portrayed the reader the way you wanted it :))

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

“...but I can help you.“

“I don‘t care. Leave me alone!“

(Y/n) turns back to the old manor, drawing out her machete and disappearing behind the wooden door. The archangel she just screamed at stands next to her car dumbfounded. Never in the many years he lived on earth, he let someone speak to him like that.

But (Y/n) is different. He just met her, but he immediately, knew she is special - not because of her alternative style but of her kind heart. Deep down she is soft and sweet, but she seems to hide it from everyone. But Gabriel is an archangel which means he knows everything.

Inside the manor a horde of vampires already await the female hunter, their teeth ready to break her skin. (Y/n) walks inside a room and gets greeted by seven vampires.

“Hello there, little bitch“, one vampire says and takes a step towards (Y/n). She points her machete at him and frowns at him. “You have no chance against us!“

“I like those odds“, (Y/n) smiles and raises her machete, letting it swish through the air and behead the vampire easily. The others run to her right away, showing their disgusting teeth.

The huntress ducks under their arms and starts to move her machete through the air. Again and again she meets a body and after three minutes all the vampires are laying dead on the floor.

Since leaving her hometown (Y/n) learned self-defences because people were and still are mean to her. It‘s always You have too many tattoos and piercings! or Why do you dress like that? It‘s been a long while since someone said anything nice to her.

Until she met Gabriel who offered her his help. But (Y/n) couldn‘t accept that. She was alone for so long, she will manage this hunt and the following without any help. No one is worth of her trust because all men are the same - horrible and shallow.

“Looks like you didn‘t need my help at all“, Gabriel states and leans against the door frame with his arms crossed. His golden eyes lay on her frame which is covered in blood.

“Didn‘t I tell you to piss off?“, (Y/n) asks annoyed and rolls her eyes.

Slowly, she walks over the bodies and to another room. There must be more vampires. There are more vampires. In the next room three more await her.

(Y/n) runs to the vampires with a raised machete and starts a fight. The archangel stays in the door frame and watches her because he is pretty sure she can handle the few monsters. And he is right, after a few more minutes the three vampires lay beheaded on the floor.

“We should go for a drink later“, Gabriel says impressed and walks towards the female hunter.

The next moment a vampire jumps through the window and at (Y/n). Together they fall on the floor and even though (Y/n) drove her machete inside his stomach, the monster manages to sink his teeth in her neck.

Gabriel moves quickly and grabs the vampire by his hair, pressing his hand to his forehead and making the monsters eyes glow until he falls dead to the floor. Then the archangel turns to a shaking and groaning (Y/n).

“It‘s okay. I will help you“, Gabriel tells the female hunter and takes her bloody hand from her neck, placing his right on her injury. A slight glow lets (Y/n)s eyes glisten and then the pain is gone. She takes a deep breath and sits up with Gabriels help.

“How? What? Why? Who are you?“, (Y/n) stammers confused and stares right into Gabriels beautiful brown eyes. The archangel lowers his gaze and smiles innocently.

“I‘m the archangel Gabriel“, he whispers and only looks up when he hears (Y/n) giggle. She grabs one of his hands and squeezes it gently.

“Nice to finally meet you in person. I read a lot about you, Gabe“, (Y/n) returns with a kind smile and stands up, still holding the archangels hand. She doesn‘t know why, maybe because he just saved her from death, but she trusts Gabriel. After all those terrible people she met, she finally can trust somebody.

“Thank you“, (Y/n) whispers and lets go of the archangels hand.

“What about the drink you were offering me?“

And that‘s how they ended in this dark alleyway in front of a now closed bar. While Gabriel is still fully sober, (Y/n) almost stumbles over her own feet. One day ago she would have never let her guard down so much, but she knew that Gabriel would save her once again in case of danger.

“I don‘t even know why I trust you all of a sudden. Five hours ago I wanted to slit your throat because you offered me your help. Maybe it‘s because you are an angel - archangel! You must be good, right? With your fluffy wings and golden harps“, (Y/n) babbles and throws an arm around Gabriels shoulders, leaning fully against him. Together they walk through the little city and head to (Y/n)s motel room.

“Actually we don‘t have-“

“I hate people. I hate people! I never trusted one soul. You wanna know why? Because humans are...disgusting. They judge and insult and are so shallow. I hate people!“, (Y/n) continues.

“I could never insult a beauty like you“, Gabriel says and stops because he fears (Y/n) will stumble and hurt herself. Now they are standing close and look in each others eyes.

“You think I‘m beautiful?“, (Y/n) asks perplex and her lower lip starts to wobble. Happy tears fill her eyes and the next thing she feels are Gabriels soft lips on her own.

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hey! I always loved your writing and you actually inspired me to write some myself so I want to request if it’s alright…

Can I have Hanako x f!reader who doesn’t believe in love (this having to due with her parents never getting along). She says that it’s just a little word people say to make them feel better about themselves and it’s a waste of time.

But she can’t help but fall in love with Hanako and gets on flustered when he’s around but tries to tell herself it’s not love. Oneshot please!

Thank you and feel free to ignore if you want!

hanako x f!reader

a/n: hello hello!! thank you so much for the compliment- that’s really sweet, and it genuinely means the world to me;; but, sure thing! (ahh, the fact that i wrote a rengoku fic about the reader feeling that way not long ago- this is a topic I’m familiar with, so I hope that it makes it turn out even better? haha) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright!!! <333 also, if you ever want to share your writings, do feel free to tag me/let me know somehow! I’m sure they’re amazing, and I’d love to read them, should you be comfortable with it!! :DD

bro i guess this request resonated with me bc i genuinely like,,, went off. So it’s,,, pretty long- i hope that’s alright haanofnaoinf-

warnings: implied parental issues?

word count: 2,363

Love was ridiculous. It was a stupid idea. An overused word, thrown onto any situation in which you felt something other than anger, fear, sadness, or disgust. If something made you even a little happy, you’d claim to love it. If someone showed you basic human decency, you’d claim to love them.

You hated it. It made you feel sick.

It’s not like you could control what everyone else did, you supposed. So, you’d continue on normally. If you didn’t fall in love, then there was no worry about falling out of it- that’s what you figured. That’s what you told yourself. Love wasn’t real in the first place- how could such an overused word hold any true meaning? It was like a 1st grade pinky promise. It was easily broken, as if it held any truth to it when the kids exchanged a deal. No matter how much either part of it trusted the promise, it made it no more real or true.

Yep… love was best put as a 1st grade pinky promise.

Maybe not-

Still, such a strong opinion on love, an unmoving opinion, with your own “proof” to back it up… made it hard when you thought that it may be put to question. You walked near the bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, and heard a girl from your class shout something. You couldn’t tell what, but you did notice her slightly annoyed expression as she left the bathroom.

Ah, the girl who seemed to be constantly head-over-heels for boys- particularly Minamoto-senpai, you had noted. It wasn’t like he’d return the feelings, you figured. It’s not like her “love” was anything more than an obsession.

Still, you figured there must have been some other girl in the bathroom. Yashiro probably had friends- she talked to Aoi a lot. Maybe the school’s princess was teasing her friend. You pushed open the door, noticing that all the stalls were empty. The only other entity in the bathroom was… a floating, slightly-transparent boy. He was laughing, and you went ahead and assumed it was at Yashiro’s annoyance.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Honestly, you just needed to pee, but it shouldn’t have surprised you. Little mokke running around the school constantly, weird things happening, a boy in the girls’ bathroom wasn’t life-changing. Or so you figured.

You grumbled, making some comment you weren’t even sure you got, as you stepped into a stall. Not acknowledging him would surely be best. You were fairly new to the school, and it wasn’t like you were insanely fond of public restrooms anyway. You’d never have to see him again. Plus, if he was anything like the other supernaturals, you were sure he’d be a handful. That was your thought process, as you washed your hands, glimpsing up at the mirror hung above the sink- you caught another glimpse at him.

An old uniform. Brown, almost shaggy, hair. His eyes were amber, and rather large- the way he held his hands, you silently compared him to a puppy. Innocent face, playful eyes- almost too alive for a ghost. He turned his head, nearly making eye contact, but you continued to study his appearance. A white… bandage? Sticker? Something- stuck to his face, the kanji for “seal” written in red.

Weird.

“My, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” He spoke, bringing a hand to his mouth, as a mischievous smirk came to his face.

A pain in the neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked back down, turning off the sink and drying your hands.

“Oh? Gonna pretend you didn’t see me? How cruel,”

Still, you ignored him. He couldn’t be serious. How was he so sure you didn’t simply think you caught something out of the corner of your eye? Was he messing with you, or trying to lighten the mood?

“I don’t think I want to associate with a pervy ghost,” You said, shutting the door behind you. As if right on time, the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. With that, you made your way to class, hoping to not have to deal with any more paranormal things.

…

Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. As the rest of the day took it’s sweet time to pass, you sat, spacing out as you thought about that boy. He was one of the first humanoid supernaturals you had seen at the school- honestly, you half-hoped that all of them were cute little bunnies. Not… strangely eye-catching boys… how weird.

You sighed, clicking your pen, letting the quiet sound drown the teacher’s ramblings out a bit. Ca-click, click-click, ca-click, click-click.

“Y’know, people find that little sound annoying sometimes. It never bothered me, but teachers seem to be so sensitive about it.”

Jumping, you turned your head a bit, only to be practically nose-to-nose with the boy from the bathroom. Your heartbeat increased from the surprise, but you placed your hand on your chin, pretending to not have seen anything. Not only did you not want to give him much of your time or energy, but you definitely didn’t want to attract negative attention from the normal kids around you. Your eyes scanned the room, and you noticed Yashiro looking in your direction, most likely at the boy. Yes, she definitely saw him too.

“Waaah, Yashirooooo, the new girl’s totally ignoring me!” He sighed, floating over to her. She looked away as well, focusing intensely on whatever the teacher had to say. You weren’t even sure by this point, watching the two out of the corner of your eye. You stopped clicking your pen, watching as he stood behind Yashiro, leaning against her as he peered at her notes.

He glanced at you again, and you looked away. The boy, who you were now curious as to what his name could be, floated back over to your desk, glancing at your notes.

“You really aren’t paying attention, huh! Yashiro’s not much better- her page is mainly doodles. How on earth do you plan to pass like this, haha?”

You glared at him slightly, before lifting your pen, and clicking it open. Annoyed, you flipped to another page, and scribbled something down. He leaned forward a bit, looking at whatever it is you wrote.

“Leave me alone, toilet boy.”

He laughed, patting your back. “Toilet boy? What’s with all the insults, I barely know youuuuuu- plus, I have a name. I’m Hanako. School Mystery Number 7, Hanako-san of the toilet! Not ‘toilet boy’, nor a pervy ghost.”

You raised your eyebrows, writing once more.

“Wonderful. Now leave me alone, ‘Hanako-san of the toilet’.”

Days passed, and he certainly didn’t leave you alone. In fact, you grew to find yourself spending more time than you expected to with him. You assisted with supernaturals from time to time, even meeting his two other friends properly- Kou Minamoto and Yashiro Nene. You all slowly, but surely, became friends.

“I’m done wiping the mirrors,” You said, tossing the dirty rag into the bucket.

“I’m done mopping!” Yashiro exclaimed, sighing as she leaned against the mop.

“I’ve finished dusting too,” Kou added.

Hanako nodded, clapping cheerfully. “Great job, everyone! Can’t wait to see the same enthusiasm tomorrow!!”

The three of you collectively groaned, rolling your eyes. “Yes, yes, just like that,” Hanako laughed, moving his legs to sit in the air in a criss-cross fashion. Light conversation picked up, Kou talking to Yashiro, and Hanako throwing in a comment every so often. You stood, leaning against the sink, watching your friends look so happy. Hanako glanced at you, closing his eyes as he grinned.

Your heart rate picked up, and you felt your face grow warm. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, as you glanced away. It wasn’t the first time a little action like that made your heart go haywire. Not just your heart- your stomach, your legs, your arms. The moment Hanako grinned at you, hugged you, or emptily flirted, you felt as though you lost the ability to function. It couldn’t be love… no, you didn’t want to fall in love.

“Right, but it's getting late, guys. I should really head home,” Yashiro spoke, putting the mop up as she did so. Kou nodded, glancing over at the clock. “I’ve got to get home and work on dinner,” He said, putting the duster away, and grabbing his things.

Hanako glanced at you.

“I don’t really have any plans. I finished homework in class, so I think I’ll linger around for a bit more.”

“Alright! Be safe when you head home, (Y/N)! I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Yashiro spoke, waving as she left the room. “Bye guys! Be safe!” Kou added, leaving not long after she did. Silence filled the room for a moment, the only thing breaking it being the sound of your shoes as you made your way to the window seal. Taking a seat, you looked at Hanako expectantly.

“Well? Any more stories of the things I missed out on?”

...

“The Confession Tree?” You questioned, the other two humans long gone by now, leaving Hanako to recount to you previous adventures they had gone on.

“Yep! Yashiro and I took care of that one- it was honestly easier than most of them were. He’s still around, just nothing bigger than one of those pre-cut broccolis. The rumor was, you’d confess under him, and he’d make the feelings mutual~, buuut, it obviously got way out of control.”

“That’s so stupid.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a distasteful tone of voice. “What is?”

“A supernatural forcing some kids to ‘fall in love’,” You made air quotes, before continuing, “it’s pretty gross. Love’s nothing more than some overused word. It’s tagged onto everything, and it’s basically used to make you feel better. It’s all a waste.”

For once, he was silent. Several questions began to circulate in his mind, but a part of him was… somewhat hurt.

“But what if I love you?” He questioned, tilting his head. His face felt warm, but he tried to steady his heartbeat. It wasn’t a direct confession. No, just a question. A ‘what if.’

You blinked, your face feeling warm. You understood- of course, it was nothing more than a ‘what if.’ “It wouldn’t be love. You’d be interested in me, only for the interest to go away eventually- even if it took a week. Even if it took years. Just… trust me, Hanako. I’m not the smartest person in the world, but- once you see it happen to the two people who are supposed to be there for you forever, you get the memo. It isn’t love. Never was, never will be.”

Those words you spoke… you didn’t like the fact that you questioned their sincerity. Especially when you were blushing, the boy who made you question those words looking at you with his big, rather beautiful eyes. “Or… that’s… what I think,” You added, the heat rising to your face only making you feel worse, as he blinked. His undivided attention on you- on what you said- made your heart beat much faster than you wished it would.

And suddenly, he was closer. Too close. Way too close. His eyes began to shut, as his face drew closer to yours. Your heart began to beat quicker than it had before- your face grew hotter than it already was- your eyes widened, as you silently questioned what on earth he was going.

One of his hands grabbed your wrist, and you looked over at your arm he was holding, then back up at him. His face was still close, so close you were sure you’d smell him if he still had a scent. So close he could probably feel the heat radiating off of your face, if he could still distinguish hot from cold.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?” He finally questioned, thumb pressed against your radial artery, as if the warmth of your face wasn’t enough of a sign.

“Because- you’re… way too close.”

“But you aren’t pushing me away? I’ll scoot back if you want. I’m not a mind reader though, so just use your words.”

Your mouth felt dry. Why weren’t you saying anything? You could speak. Open your mouth and tell him to move. Take your free hand and shove him.

But… a part of you didn’t want him to move.

Hanako smiled once more, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, as if he were saddened by something. “I’m sorry that you were dealt a hand like that in life. It’s easy to look around and find all the negatives in life. But,” He leaned forward a bit more, nose nearly touching yours, “you aren’t your parents. You don’t need to follow in their footsteps. Don’t let their problems influence you so heavily to where you miss out on potentially great things. It’s okay to be sad about it. It’s okay to be scared. But it’s still your life, not theirs. If everyone’s overuse of it bothers you, then only say it when you mean it. Still, if you feel love, embrace it.”

Your eyes felt slightly prickly, as they watered up a bit. His sincerity… your racing heart. Maybe, just maybe… you were in love.

“I… think I love you, Hanako,” You muttered. You were scared. You were scared that he’d tell you he was joking- or that maybe this wasn’t love. Scared of so many things, stemming from one little word. Yet, you tried to embrace it.

“I love you, (Y/N). And nothing will change that,” He said, his smile widening. Quickly, he closed his eyes, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips were… cold. His touch was the only thing that reminded you that he wasn’t alive. Still, the warmth of his words made up for it, as you closed your eyes into the kiss.

His encouragement wouldn’t drown out the fear completely. He couldn’t take the memories away. But he tried… he told you that he loved you, so… you’d believe him. After all, you hadn’t heard him overusing the word. It only made that moment feel that much more genuine.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 24

First

Previous

Next

~~~

She groaned when she felt someone shake her shoulder, nuzzling her face further into her pillow. Did she notice that her ‘pillow’ was far harder than usual? Maybe. Did she care? No.

“Encore cinq minutes, Maman,” she murmured.

“Marinette, please,” Red Robin pleaded. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Sucks.”

The vigilante cursed and she tried her hardest not to grin. She waited a few more seconds to sell it before pulling away.

“Kidding, kidding.”

He gave her one tiny grin before running to the bathroom. She could hear the sound of people scuffling until, eventually, Robin was pushed out.

She shouldn’t laugh. Really shouldn’t. Everyone’s first hangover is easily the worst one, and he hadn’t exactly made it easy on himself the night before by gradually getting into it. But...

She wheezed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth in a fruitless attempt to stifle it.

His face reddened. “What?”

“You look like you got run over or something!”

He huffed and sat on the counter. “I feel like I got run over.”

She grinned and pushed herself to her feet. She dusted herself off and looked around.

Red Hood was easily the best off, puttering around the kitchen with interest. When he saw Robin come out he gave a cheeky grin and handed over a grocery bag. “Here, use this.”

The kid clearly didn’t know what it was for, because he nodded and put it over his head.

Marinette sighed and plucked it off of him. “No. It’s to throw up in,” she informed him.

He blinked a few times and then nodded again.

Her eyes fell on Nightwing. He looked stressed as he typed on his phone. He himself was drinking from a glass of raw eggs with a bitter look on his face.

She supposed she’d be looking bitter, too, if she was drinking raw eggs.

She shook her head with a sigh and walked to the kitchen and started whipping up a hangover cure. “You guys are vigilantes, how can you not deal with a little headache?”

“I’ll kill you,” Robin hissed.

“Oh, like you tried to kill Red Robin?”

His eyes widened. “Who told you about that?”

“You did. Last night.”

Poor Robin. He rested his head in his hands. “How much did I admit to?”

“You only got a few rounds in, so not as much as you could have,” she promised.

She combined her ginger, tangerine extract, and brown sugar, then handed them out to everyone.

After a few seconds of thought, she replaced the glass in Nightwing’s hand. She was pretty sure that the raw egg thing was a myth. He didn’t even notice, too focused on his phone.

Red Hood beamed as he took it. “Not the best, but I do like the taste better,” he said cheerfully.

“How are you... okay? You drank the most! You were blackout drunk!”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes! That’s why I asked!”

Red Robin finally came out, his hair wet. The moment Robin heard the door open he pushed past his brother to get back inside.

She grinned. “I guess he’s too good to puke in a bag like the rest of us?”

Red Robin grinned. “Probably.” She handed over the concoction, but he just shrugged. “It’s fine, I took a shower, I feel better.”

Marinette huffed. “I’d hope so. You smell like my soap.”

He gave a small shrug. “I figured I’d look like the responsible one instead of smelling like alcohol.”

“Oh. Smart.”

He winked. “I’d like to think so.”

The receiver clicked in her ear and she saw all the bats reach up to cover their own with pained expressions. Nightwing looked even more pale than normal. The temptation to turn on her own to see how guilty she should feel about them getting chewed out was almost too hard to manage.

Red Hood came up behind her and slung himself on top of her like a backpack, pressing his cheek to hers. “Thanks for the cookiiiiieees,” he cooed.

She almost pushed him off before she noticed something. She could almost make out the words Batman was saying. She rolled her eyes as if annoyed, but leaned into him.

“-- VE YOU LET ROBIN DRINK. HE’S A KID. LET ALONE YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE GOING TO GO ON PATROL, NOT A WORD ABOUT HOW YOU WERE GOING TO HANG OUT AT MARINETTE’S HOUSE. AND YOU RED HOOD, YOU --”

She winced slightly and pulled away. Marinette thought for a minute about how to help. “You should actually be able to get the cookies before you thank me, huh?”

He grinned. “I mean, I stole a few from the freezer, but I’d love a completed one.”

She rolled her eyes a bit but went to work.

Red Robin watched over her shoulder with a frown on his face. “You don’t fill the whole way?”

She shook her head as she carefully twisted on the top. “The filling would overflow.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“For taste? It’s great, but not so much for looks.”

He snickered. “Looks don’t matter here.”

“Obviously. Have you seen your outfits?”

His smile dropped and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong with them?”

Marinette glanced at his face to make sure he wasn’t joking. And he wasn’t. Oh, wow, they don’t know. She was saved, yet again, by Red Hood coming over.

“Shoo! She’s making cookies! Don’t distract her by making her list every flaw of our outfits! She’s a designer, we’d die before she finished!”

She grinned and piped frosting for a little while until Robin stumbled out of the bathroom.

“I threw up blood.”

“Okay, but how much?” Said Red Hood.

Marinette rolled her eyes and gave him a small shove. “You’ll scare him.” She turned and gave him a small smile. “It means you drank a little bit more than you should have, but as long as it wasn’t too much you’ll be fine.”

“How much is too much? I thought any blood is too much!”

She sighed. “You’d know if it was too much. Relax.” She handed him a cookie.

Red Hood looked offended. “Why’d he get first cookie?”

“‘Cause he’s suffering and you’ve already eaten a few shells.”

He gave a shrug. Fair enough.

Nightwing finally stood, groaning as he walked over. “Great. At least it’s mostly over. We need to head home before Bats gets even more upset.”

She nodded and gave them a Tupperware each (she had a feeling that if she put all of them in the same one Red Hood would eat them all). She wasn’t finished, but she only had a few more cookies to make, and she’d like to give them to someone else.

Nightwing and Red Robin were the first to leave, giving small waves over their shoulders as they disappeared around the side of her building.

Red Hood wrapped her in a hug. “Spar soon?” He whispered.

She smiled and hugged back. “Give me, I don’t know, a week.”

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before jumping out the window.

And so it was only her and Robin. She raised her eyebrows slightly as she watched him shuffle his fee uncomfortably, unsure if he was going to say anything if she didn’t make him spit it out.

She opened her mouth after a bit in irritation, but he chose that moment to speak up: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have drank last night. I used you for alcohol, that was wrong.”

She blinked. Where was the prick that had nearly gotten them both killed in his anger? He didn’t apologize for that but he was apologizing for drinking underage? What?

“I’m not... supposed to drink.”

“Whaaaat? I couldn’t tell,” she said with a weak smile.

He only gave a small frown in response.

She sighed and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Just be more careful about it while you’re figuring out your limits, okay?”

He looked skeptical for a second, before nodding. With that, he left.

She watched him leave with a small frown.

The worst part of cleaning wasn’t the germs, or the exhaustion afterward. It was the monotony that left you with nothing but your own thoughts. And she didn’t like where hers were going.

She’d been rude to Chloe. Right after she’d found out the girl had actually done something very nice for her. She was literally attempting to help make sure her wound was okay and Marinette had insulted her to her face.

And Robin... hadn’t actually been all that awful. He’d actually been rather pleasant to be around, he clearly was enjoying himself and his laugh had been infectious the night before.

Her grip tightened on her mop as she closed her eyes. Had she been wrong about them?

~~~

Glad to know I’m not the only one using this fic to procrastinate

~

Also I am here to tell you all that you need better sleep schedules. You reply at all hours of the day. SLEEP.

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks

<3

[beinmybonnet]

29th June 1613 - London, England

   “Remind me again why we’re doing this?

“He went to the trouble to have a draft carried all the way to Brandenburg for me, the least I can do is attend the opening night.”

Andromache rolls her shoulders into her partlet. “The least you can do maybe. Why am I doing this?”

“Because you missed me. And because you cried when we saw Othello.” Yusuf replies, looking sideways at her. Curbing the inevitable objection, Quynh squeezes Nicolò’s arm and strides forwards to overtake them. He lets himself be dragged after her, taking care not to tread on her skirts.

“I love the theatre. Plus, we’ve spent the last week sleeping in a shack in the Dales. This,” Quynh waves her free arm over the bridge rail, “is a nice change of scenery.”

London Bridge is teeming with people, the warmth of the bustle settling like cinders into his skin. The city writhes in its haste. Against the far bank of the Thames tall buildings strike against the horizon, the old Southwark Priory still reaching high in spent pride. Buildings are painted pale with dark beams striking bold across them. It is beautiful in its own way, Nicolò thinks. Inelegant, but unique.

“It wasn’t that bad. I still think we should have stayed a little longer, at least until-

“Andromache we’ve slept in nicer caves.”

Quynh glances back over her shoulder meaningfully, brow rising. Andromache shrugs. A smile, although few would recognise it. They step down onto the riverbank as one, turning east.

Nicolò nudges his shoulder into Yusuf as they pass the gardens. “You fail to mention you sent that script back with corrections.”

“Revisions. Small ones.” Yusuf’s voice is low, his expression impish. “Barely noticeable.”

                                                         *

“Ah, here we are.” Yusuf waves Andromache forward into their usual first-floor booth and steps back to allow Quynh to pass. Nicolò pauses, peering up the stairwell.

“Full house.”

“First performance. Trust me, this will be one to remember.” Yusuf is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and it makes Nicolò want to tuck his chin over a bobbing shoulder.

“You’d think the city would be a bit more subdued,” Andromache settles herself on the bench tucking thick plum skirts around her calves. She happily accepts a bag of roasted hazelnuts from Yusuf as he passes her to stand at the balcony. “They’ve only just recovered from their last bout of plague.”

“Exactly! This is the power of art.” Yusuf beams, arm sweeping wide. “Look at these people.” All around them the crowd is seething with anticipation, the noise growing as the wait goes on. Children scramble in the lower level of the yard for better vantage points, clawing their way up the beams supporting the lower galleries. People are shouting and laughing and drinking, the sound cocooned tight within the impressive structure. A man swings a laughing boy up over the mass, and a small group of women pressed against the stage begin shouting a suspicious sounding rhyme, pointing across the pit. Before they can finish a man in the gallery beneath them roars his response across the yard.

Nicolò’s brow furrows. “Clot-pole? I don’t…”

“She’s calling him an idiot,” Andromache supplies, “and insulting his hat.”

“It is a bit much.” Quynh’s leaning over the balcony to get a better look. “I think she’s accusing him of, err – short-changing her. Last night.”

Still grinning, Yusuf peers over beside her. “Oh, she’s quite angry. Here we go.” He sounds delighted. What looks like a parsnip sails over the head of the crowd. “A pity, she’ll want those for the third act.”

Quynh’s now bent almost double over the bannister and Andromache reaches to steady her without looking. “Isn’t this sort of thing that made the man move half of the troupe over to Blackfriars?”

Yusuf shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Ah, William has become far too prudish in his success. The engagement of the audience is the nature of theatre.”

“Engagement?” Nicolò smirks as something below meets its mark with a splat and a shout.

“Well, you cannot deny their enthusiasm-”

Quynh reappears with a whoop of triumph clutching her prize; a browning cabbage intercepted in the air. She rotates the rotten vegetable in careful examination. “Excellent.”

Yusuf raises his hand in hopeless protest as Nicolò leans back in his seat, eyeing Quynh. “10 crowns says you can’t hit the stage from here.”

She snorts derisively.

“20 if you can take King Henry off his feet.” Andromache counters, rising slightly to gauge the distance. Done, Quynh agrees happily, settling beside her and tucking her cabbage under the bench. Yusuf mutters an exasperated appeal for help to the heavens and Nicolò quickly tugs him down into the remaining space with a hand over his knee.

The parting of the stage curtain prompts the dropping of remaining projectiles and an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. The herald clears his throat, steps to the edge of the stage and spreads his arms.

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

I come no more to make you laugh; things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

Be sad, as we would make ye

“Oh, so a comedy?” Quynh says brightly and Yusuf shushes her.

The first actors emerge from the wings in their velvets and the tale takes flight.

                                                                                                                                                                    *

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

Yusuf is mouthing the words soundlessly, engrossed.

There are many things Nicolò has enjoyed about visiting theatres over the years. He will readily admit this performance is an enjoyable one - the young man playing Buckingham is particularly charismatic, the audience viscerally immersed in his indignation. The actors proudly deliver their lines and their story to an increasingly hypnotised audience.  

But the play itself has never been what really draws Nicolò to this place. He glances sideways again and immediately, expectedly, loses the thread of the plot. In this moment the talent on the stage could never hope to hold his interest as he sits beside this man. Yusuf has lost himself entirely to the unfolding tale, gaze flitting from figure to figure calling below. Passion alight in his eyes. The arts do this to him in a way Nicolò has seen nothing else in all their time together. They have walked familiar paths in gallery halls for hours on end, Yusuf’s eyes roving walls of painted expression. They’ve sat in houses of the dying and listened to children bringing comfort with songs of naivety. Literature, dance, poetry, music; in all their changing forms they have always arrested Yusuf in his entirety.

These things give people freedom Nicolò, true freedom, he had once said. Free of limitation and expectation, in art people reveal their true selves. It is beautiful.

For Nicolò, that beauty is reflected blindingly in Yusuf’s own experience. To watch him like this for the rest of his given days would see him depart this earth achingly grateful to his God.

But Yusuf feels his distraction and leans toward him. “You’re missing it,” he murmurs, smile pulling impossibly wider. Unbridled delight is etched at the edges of his eyes, and Nicolò wants to trace his fingertips over the creases. He only realises he has reached out and done so when Yusuf captures and kisses his palm. “Watch the play.”

“It is a story still within living memory, I know how it ends,” Nicolò whispers.

Yusuf will not have it, nodding towards the actors. “Watch them tell it.”

Anne Boleyn is drifting across the stage, hand at her chest and Nicolò turns dutifully back to the performance.

Was he mad, sir?

O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

But he would bite none; just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

This time it’s Yusuf’s eyes that flicker back towards him and Nicolò hears silent words in the curl of his lip. Twenty kisses in a single breath. A risky venture, no?

Nicolò hums, his thoughts mirrored beside him. We shall see.

                                                                                                                      *

Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and once more

I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all!

King Henry VIII emerges from the curtains with a flourish, the actor clearly taking great pains not to stumble in breeches that billow around his knees. The theatre bursts into applause as a round of trumpets sound, and they shout their approval at the blast of a canon from the rafters. The actors move to their marks to begin the scene in earnest, and Andromache leans forward with interest for the first time.

“See, I told you! With the funding now available, they’ve really spared no expense,” Yusuf is still clapping. Andromache hums noncommittally sitting back, but her eyes are suddenly bright with curiosity.

“Quynh, if you’re going to win your money, I suggest you do it now.”

“Why? I was going to wait until the trial scene,” she replies, confused.

From his place beside her Nicolò can see clearly that Andromache is struggling to suppress a smirk. “Well, there won’t be much left by then.”

“What?” Quynh looks down the bench at him. He shrugs. Andromache sighs around her growing amusement.

Seconds pass before she speaks again.

“They’ve set the roof on fire.”

He doesn’t need long to piece together what’s happened. There’s a thin plume of smoke rising from the inner curve of the roof and within, a flicker of light no bigger than that from a candle waving gently in the rafters. The canon. They wadded the canon, he realises. The little flame wafts higher in the breeze. The crowd is oblivious, too focused on the stage to be looking upwards. He taps Yusuf’s thigh.

It does take a moment. “Oh dear.” Yusuf looks back and forth between the roof and the stage, face falling. “Well maybe-

There’s a loud pop as the flame meets eager fuel. It dances up into the thatch lining the hooped roof and flares wide and greedy. Whip fast, it licks across the reeds consuming them in crunches and cracks that have people now looking skywards and shouting. Those in the highest galleries rear back as the fire completes its rapid circuit of the roof. By the time the actors have abandoned their attempts at continuing and stand dumbstruck on the stage, the theatre is ringed in an ominous halo of flame.

“Yusuf, unless your intention is a repeat of ’54…” Quynh trails off sadly, holding her cabbage.

Clumps of lit thatch are beginning to drift into the standing audience and the pushing and shoving follows in earnest. One man charges through the crowd braying, his breeches alight. Andromache stands looking decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, we’ll help them clear the pit.”

Nicolò follows suit, a hand falling to Yusuf’s shoulder. He has to work to quell an absurd urge to laugh; Yusuf is glaring at the roof with all the stubbornness of a chastised child. He squeezes gently, sympathy winning out. “I’m sorry.”

“Canons, who on earth thought canons in a wooden building was…” Yusuf trails off, glancing up. “Nothing to be done I suppose.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Drawing Yusuf up behind him, Nicolò moves out into the stairwell twisting up into the higher galleries where people are starting to pile down in haste. An older man stumbles in the rush and he reaches out to steady him. “Careful, sir. Head out towards the river.”

The man nods and quickly hurries on pressing his handkerchief to his mouth. The next woman through the door snatches her arm up to her chest before he can move to offer any assistance. Dirty papist  she spits as she veers away. Yusuf tenses, a hard line pressed at his back. Nicolò just dips his head.

“Please hurry.”

By the time the flow of people has ebbed the flames are beginning to consume the ornate stage pillars. The curtains masking backstage catch like parchment and blaze furiously. “We should make sure the galleries are clear,” he says, “you take the east, I the west?”

Yusuf eyes the roof timbers warily. “Five minutes. No more.”

In the end it only takes Nicolò four minutes to usher the last stubborn gamblers from the gentleman’s room. The fact that the smoke has now crept down to waist level speeds this along nicely, and they hurry to the stairwell hunched and coughing. Nicolò stays low, following them down the last steep flight when his foot catches on something in the darkness, almost putting his hand through the adjacent wall in an attempt to steady himself. There’s a man slouched in the corner, limbs sprawled wide and snoring. An empty bladder clutched to his chest. The strength of the brandy fumes punch through the dense smoke to further sting at his eyes and his irritation almost threatens to outweigh his conscience. Almost.

By the time he staggers out into clear air dragging his oblivious charge Nicolò know he’s been much longer than five minutes. Behind him there’s a crash which sounds very much like the galleries have finally given in and collapsed. Sounds like, because his eyes are clenched shut, burning and watering. Pressing his hands to his knees, he tries not to gag on the tar in his throat.

A hand settles on the back of his neck whilst another cups a palmful of water to his face. Nicolò winces.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, “He’s heavier than he looks.”

He can hear Yusuf grinding his teeth but his response is surprisingly placid. “Rinse your eyes.”

Yusuf presses a water skin into his hands and moves away. When Nicolò’s vision has cleared he spots him back near the eastern entrance, patiently shepherding two enraptured boys further from the fire as they gape at the sky. Even for one who has seen much, Nicolò must admit, it is quite a sight.

The playhouse’s cylindrical shape has moulded the fire into a twirling steeple of flame inside the structure, now reaching twenty feet clear of the building itself. The Globe resembles an enormous cauldron struggling to hold its roiling contents. It belches clouds of thick black smoke as its rim splinters and cracks under the pressure and heat. What’s left of the thatch continues to feed the furnace, keeping the flames bright and fierce.

Quynh appears, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow to steer him away. She leads him to a grassy curve of the riverbank where people are congregating in groups and beginning to resettle on the ground. From one muse to another, the audience remain eager spectators, gasping and whooping as the bones of the building begin to break, sending up showers of sparks. Yusuf and Andromache join them just as the walls start to keel inwards.

“You were right, definitely one of his more memorable works,” Andromache announces as they sit. “Perhaps my favourite.”

“Yes, I’m so very glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yusuf’s tone is flat, but his eyes roll indulgently.

Quynh settles herself back against Andromache’s bent knees, facing the playhouse. “We can still make a night of it. We get a bottle of wine, some pastries. Watch the sunset.” Her voices softens slightly and she levels her gaze at them. “You really must go so soon?”

He looks to Yusuf, who nods. “We have passage on a ship to Antwerp. She leaves on the tide tomorrow morning.”

Quynh’s sigh is dejected. “You won’t consider staying just a little longer? We’re moving on to…” she trails off, peering up at Andromache – Devon, she supplies, “We could use your help relocating these women. The trials are becoming barbaric.”

Yusuf shakes his head, surveying the crowd. “I’d prefer not to tempt fate. London is not at its most welcoming for us presently.

Nicolò quirks his lip. “You mean for me.” Ah, he sees now. The woman from earlier is stood just a little further up the bank, clutching at well-dressed man and pointing at them. Yusuf stares back unflinchingly. Nicolò feels him shift to further block her line of sight to him.

Then he turns back to meet Nicolò’s eye and speaks firmly. “For us. If a place does not welcome you, it does not welcome me.” 

Quynh has watched the exchange carefully and suddenly sits up. She clears her throat and calls out loudly enough for those nearest to turn. “Thou art a boil, madam, a plague sore!”

Andromache snorts and the woman raises her fan to her face appalled, tugging on her husband’s arm. It has the intended effect on Yusuf though and his grin returns to its proper place. Nicolò feels a familiar rush of affection for Quynh and her unfailing ability to put people at ease.

“King Lear,” Yusuf says proudly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“Of course she was,” Andromache interjects, “It’s a magnum opus of insults.”

Quynh grins up at her. “Oh, you worsted-stockinged knave.”

The retort is instant. “Brazen-faced varlet.”

“Ancient ruffian.”

Andromache shrugs. “Accurate.”

Their laughter comes in easy unison and Yusuf’s expression is unbearably soft as he watches them. “It won’t be for long,” he promises.

Quynh pulls her eyes from Andromache and nods. “Probably a sensible choice at the moment. You do look violently Venetian Nicolò.

He wrinkles his nose, affronted. “I do not-”

Yusuf is reaching for his face, so he pauses his protest for the gentle pass of a thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It’s your profile my love.” Yusuf’s tongue darts out over the pad of his thumb before it returns to rub more firmly at his nose. “Which currently is very sooty.”

With his hands still upon Nicolò’s face he murmurs.  “Oh but what a piece of work is this man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,” Yusuf blinks, his sincerity blinding, “in apprehension how like a god.”

It’s all Nicolò can do not to rub his flushed cheeks into Yusuf’s palms like an alley cat.

Andromache arches a refined brow at Quynh. “Nicolò gets a Hamletian ode to his soul, and I get ‘ruffian’?”

Quynh rocks onto her elbow in the grass without missing a beat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Mayhap a smouldering playhouse, ablaze in righteous flame?

“Likened to a smoking wreckage, how romantic.”

Nicolò would laugh but Yusuf is still holding his gaze and his face, everything else muting around him. He does this; bestows his love in soft declarations that leave Nicolò stunned, and then holds him steady until the words perfuse. Nicolò loves him so much he feels he might combust, with all the ferocity of the fire at his back.

Centuries before, he had allowed his disbelief to ask a question once, and only once. The intensity frightening him. Could a gift such as this truly be his eternal?

Nicolò smiles at his world and whispers.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and gives life to thee.

 held in the embers on ao3 at theexistentialteapot

 part one of this series can be found here

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame VIII

Author’s Note: Here’s the newest chapter, as promised as my early Christmas gift to you guys! It’s the longest thus far, and my personal favorite (I feel like I say that all the time) so I’ll let you guys be the judge. Enjoy and happy holidays!

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader Word Count: 4176 Warnings: Language, sexual themes, master/servant dynamic

Ivar now knew the identity of the spy in the camp. She had presented herself to him when he was alone, under the guise that she wanted to be with him. It had come as a relief that she was not sent to kill him, at least not yet. Her name was Freydis, and she was beautiful, a deceptive beauty that he would have fallen for had he not already been made aware of her treachery. But he had to keep her close enough to not become suspicious, and so he played into her duplicitous act, even as he was wrought with anger and guilt to do it. Her kisses and gentle caresses were like being held in the cold clutches of Rán. Ubbe and Hvitserk now knew her identity as well, so they had eyes on her when he couldn't. She was clever and had yet to make a slip up on who she was sent by.

His time was also divided between Ólaug, and the Bishop, Heahmund. Their time in York was coming to an end, with some of the warriors choosing to stay behind during the winter. Ivar intended to return to Kattegat to have his revenge on Lagertha, but he had not decided on what to do with the pair of Christians. He wanted to keep his nun close, but not if it put you in danger. 

During the day you remained with Audhild and the other healers, but when the sun went down, Ivar ordered you back to his side. It was under the pretense that he needed you to continue to tend to his wound, but he could have asked for any healer to do that. He still wanted you near. Your longing for happiness was all Ivar could think about, but he knew little in the ways of bringing light back into another's life. After spending so much time miserable and alone, he was ill-equipped to breathe joy into someone else.

The splashing of water brought him out of his thoughts and into the dark hallway he was lurking in. He had sought you out for a different purpose tonight. The Bishop thought he could demonstrate his piety by refusing to eat, but Ivar refused to lose such a valuable fighter so soon after acquiring him. You would be able to make Heahmund see reason, that no rational good could come from his fasting. Audhild had sent you away to bathe, and that is where he found you, through a crack in the wall. 

It was wrong. Ivar knew it the moment he spied you naked and did not immediately look away. He couldn’t. You were becoming something of an obsession to him, occupying his thoughts whenever he had a quiet moment alone. He would conjure up delightful and terrifying ideas of a future with you, none of which were at all plausible. The days without you served only to nurture his fondness, and now he was brought back down to a familiar habit, watching but not taking what he wanted.

Your actions weren't tantalizing, you simply washed like the many times you had done so before. Maybe it was the way you went about it, unaware that you were being watched that was desirable to Ivar. If you were his, then what he stumbled across was just a domestic moment of quiet bliss. He could walk up to you, and you wouldn't cover up and hide. You would welcome him with a smile, and he would lean down to kiss your neck, catching a bead of water on his lips that had collected there.

Ivar moaned quietly. That was far from reality, and he knew your reaction if he intruded upon you now. You would shriek and struggle to conceal yourself from his lecherous gaze, and he would be left feeling hateful at you and himself. A part of himself was rife with disgust that he should be attracted to you at all. You were a weak Christian with a false god, and with none of the qualities of a strong Viking woman of Kattegat. Not that he was entirely set on wedding a shieldmaiden either. His mother had never been a fighter, yet she had ensnared Ragnar with her beauty and wisdom. Ivar enjoyed his conversations with you, and he felt your face was pleasing enough. As you bathed, you had discarded your headscarf, and your hair was beginning to grow back. You could be beautiful. 

He found his thoughts tiring, and with sudden energy, he rapped his hand on the door to the bathing room. You startled in the tub, splashing water onto the floor.

"Yes?" You called, face cautious while still unaware of Ivar's presence. You had ducked down into the water and were peeking over the rim as if expecting an intruder to burst forth through the door.

"I require your assistance with something," Ivar answered. "Hurry up. A thrall does not have the luxury to bathe all day."

You frowned in frustration, and Ivar laughed to himself. He knew you wouldn't do so if you knew he could see, but he often caught your irritation when you thought he wasn't paying attention. 

As you stood out of the water, Ivar engaged in your naked form one last time before you slid into a brown slip dress that was ill-fitting. He would hold onto the memory of this moment, and return to it in private when he was allowed to be engrossed with thoughts of you, and not of war and betrayal.

When you came through the door, you breathed out a gasp at finding him so close. It was only to catch a scent of the petals on your skin that had surrounded you in the water, and when he had his fill, he pivoted back to allow you to join him in the hallway.

"What needs tending to, is it your wound?" You asked while rolling the sleeves of your dress up into cuffs.

"No, it is a matter of a stubborn one of your kind. A Bishop."

"I'm not sure I understand. I've never known any Bishop."

"I don't need you to be familiar with him, I need you to make him see reason. He has refused any meal we offer him, and nothing short of forcing food down his throat seems to be an answer. But I assume you'd rather I come to a different resolution."

Your eyes fluttered, and you held your arms around yourself as if chilled. "I suppose I can try to speak to him. But I don't understand why you have a Bishop here."

"He is a strong warrior, and I would like to shift his allegiance to our side," Ivar explained as he started forward.

You shuffled quickly after him, and Ivar was taken aback as you placed a hand on his arm. "Is this man Bishop Heahmund?"

Forgetting for a moment the warmth of your touch through his sleeve, he found your reaction curious. "I thought you didn't know any Bishop?"

"I don't know him personally, but most of the Church knows of this man. That he wields a sword, and goes to war with the grace of God," You said, sounding out of breath and with a fresh flush coming to your face. "How did he come to be here?"

"I captured him," Ivar boasted, if only because he didn't care for how flustered you had grown at the mere mention of Heahmund. "It seems the grace of your God has left him."

You pulled back your hand, and your eyes fell. "I'll see to it that He hasn't."

Ivar's face hardened as he started towards the courtyard where the Bishop was being kept. He hadn't meant to offer you insult, he'd only been wary of the admiration you seemed to hold for Heahmund. When he first spotted the Bishop battling through the mud and rain, Ivar had been mesmerized. Here was a man, a Christian, who fought with the might of a thousand giants. He was everything Ivar would never be, a fate he wanted for his own but could not have.

He swore to the Gods that he would never dwell on matters he could not change. If Floki were here to witness his self-pity, he would have him carving runes into wood with his fingernails. His old teacher never did entertain the idea that Ivar was lesser for being born boneless. Most days he had moved on from the notion as well, but it seemed the appearance of Heahmund had brought forth these feelings of inadequacy.

They passed by the two guards charged with watching over the Bishop, and Ivar instructed one of them to find a hot meal to return with. Heahmund was where he remained the last time Ivar had been around. Chained to a post spiked in the center of the courtyard, still as the dead with his chin tugged down to his chest. Ivar gave a few brusque taps with his crutch on the Bishop's leg to warrant his attention. 

"I've brought a friend. She worries for you."

Heahmund glanced up with curiosity as you took a step forward. You were not a familiar face to him, but you did not hesitate as you knelt in the soft ground at his side. The first hand you reached out and brushed back his dark hair. Ivar felt his bones ache at such a tender gesture.

"Who are you," Heahmund murmured, his eyes heavy as he watched you.

You hesitated a moment, as if not sure how to answer. "I am Sister Mary Catharine. I have come because God still has work for you on this earth. Do not throw away your life so irrationally."

The Bishop took your hand into his own and he began to speak in a tongue Ivar could not comprehend. His eyes grew impassioned, and you appeared to grasp onto his words, leaning closer to the man than Ivar was comfortable with. Whatever the mysterious language was, you spoke it as well, though not with as much confidence as Heahmund. Sometimes one of you would look towards Ivar before continuing to prattle. The situation before him left him bereft of assurance. Perhaps he was mistaken in bringing you here.

The guard he had sent to fetch food had returned, and Ivar had him placing the meal down at the Bishop's feet. He had hoped it would disrupt your secret discussion, but instead, you reached for the cup of water and brought it to Heahmund's lips.

"Enough," Ivar barked, taking a threatening lunge forward that had you scurrying back. The cup fell from your grasp and landed at the Bishop's feet. "I did not bring you here to be his nursemaid. His hands are not bound so tightly that he cannot feed himself." 

You bowed your head, and Ivar knew he had frightened you when you refused to meet his gaze. "My apologies, it was not my place to presume. I should return to Audhild. She did not grant me this much time to be away."

He wanted to snap back that he had not dismissed you yet, but you were no longer his thrall. It wouldn't have done any good to have you distance yourself further from him, so Ivar gave you a curt nod and told his men to let you pass. When he looked back at Heahmund, he was studying him with rapt attention. 

"Heathen," The Bishop started.

"Christian," Ivar returned in kind. 

"Be kind to her. She is a tender angel of mercy."

Ivar felt curious. He agreed with the assertion that you were merciful, but he wasn't sure about the rest. "What's an angel?"

"They are the heavenly protectors that watch over us and guide us. In the presence of our glorious Lord, they stand, and serve Him."

Ivar rolled his eyes with a snicker. He should have expected such a long-winded answer from Heahmund by now. "And what was that language you spoke just now?"

"Latin, it is the language of the Church and all holy scripture."

"What were you saying?"

Heahmund appeared to contemplate whether or not to reveal what had been spoken between you. Ivar knew whatever it was, he had been at the center of it.

"I told the Sister that you are a repugnant creature whose path will lead to sin and damnation. Should you seek penance now and forgo your wicked ways, you may yet save your soul. Renounce your false gods, and accept the one true Lord as your savior."

Ivar began to laugh at the absurdity of Heahmund, and the guards joined him. "Your God be damned, Bishop. My soul is not fated for your boring heaven. We come into this world bloody, and I have plans to leave it just the same. I'll keep to my wicked ways, as you say."

Heahmund did not appear fazed by such a response and had probably anticipated it. He returned to the meal that had been brought to him and began to eat, but not before uttering a prayer and cross gesture first. He was resilient, and Ivar admired the trait as something he had in himself. The goal had been to get the Bishop to eat, and with that rectified, he turned to leave. 

With his crutch clunking beside him with each heavy step, Ivar made his way back inside. He was surprised to see you had not gone far. You had remained back in the hallway, a fretful look on your face. When you spotted him coming towards you, you righted yourself against the wall and brought your hands down to your sides.

"Did he eat?"

Ivar grunted. Of course, you were worried about Heahmund. "Yes. It seemed all he needed was a pretty face. In this, all men are the same."

You grew quiet and pink, the desired reaction he had hoped for. "I don't know about that," You mumbled eventually. 

"Oh but it's true. He called you an angel."

"The Bishop exaggerates."

Ivar was glad to see such flattery had not swayed you, as you lost your previous flush from his insinuating of your beauty. 

"Tell me about your angels. Are they like our Valkyries?" From your confused look Ivar knew he would have to elaborate. "They are the women that guide dead warriors from the battlefield into Valhalla."

"Angels are our messengers to God, though I suppose they do offer guidance. But our angels do not conform to gender in a way that we would understand, and they've always appeared as men to us mortals."

Ivar snorted as he imagined these strange creatures. "What's between their legs then, if they aren't like us, mortal men?"

A peal of laughter bubbled up from your throat that you couldn't contain, and Ivar delighted in the knowledge that he had caused it. You'd never looked so free.

"I don't know. I've never contemplated such things before," You said as your giggles settled.

“He also thinks that my soul is damned, and I’m sure he is concerned I’m going to take you with me,” Ivar said, and not entirely put off by the idea of tainting your pure Christian values.

“If you live your life dedicated to the ways of your gods, then I’m certain your soul is safe. Perhaps it isn’t in our God’s power to decide.”

“I thought you believed my gods to be false.”

You hummed quietly as you appeared in thought. “I don’t think it is fair for me to say what is the one true God. I do not understand the ways of your people any more than you do mine, and I still think it isn't up for men to decide when to take another's life. Perhaps whatever God is, he reaches us differently in our hearts."

"Does it bother you that your Bishop slays men on the battlefield?" 

"I haven't thought of it before. Mostly I just knew of Bishop Heahmund from the stories of chatty nuns," You replied while scratching at the scarf on your head. "I suppose I don't like it, but what he does in the field of battle is between him and God. He'll have to appeal for clemency when his judgement day comes upon him."

"And what about me?" Ivar asked, stepping into your space. You skirted back until he crowded you up against the wall. He could feel your small puffs of air against his cheek, and your eyes were blown wide like a cat's. "Should I be asking for forgiveness for the things I've done?"

You swallowed thickly. "But it would all be a lie. You do not seek forgiveness in your heart."

You were right of course, his heart was not set on forgiveness. It was pounding in his chest at having you so near. Balancing his crutch under his arm, he was able to please his one hand up against the wall and lean in close.

"You seem to know more about me every day," He said, letting his voice go soft as he dragged his knuckles down your left cheek. The bruise around your eye had faded to yellow and was no longer swollen. What a shame it was that he had not been given the chance to learn who had hurt you. "We will leave this place soon, and you'll see my home. Have you ever been outside of England?"

"No, I've never seen the ocean," You said, letting out a shudder each time he grazed your flesh with his.

"I'll take you there." His movements stopped, and his gaze settled on your parted lips. They looked soft, and suddenly they had become a priority to discover.  "Let me kiss you."

His request managed to bring back that fire in your eyes as you squared your shoulders. "No."

Ivar frowned, but he wasn't annoyed by your refusal. He had anticipated it. "Why not?"

"My vow to remain celibate has not been tainted, and I won't break it for anyone."

"I only asked for a kiss, not to hump you in a dark corridor," He teased while bringing his lips to your ear. "It will be our secret, your God doesn't have to know."

"But God sees all," You squeaked as he pulled on your earlobe with his teeth. "Stop that."

His frustration with you was mounting, and he concluded that he had been incensed with your nature towards Heahmund, how readily helpful you had been. When Freydis had kissed him, he had been pulled in by her intoxicating confidence while also left disappointed that it had only been an act. He had kissed her back with the bleak acceptance that only slaves sent by his brothers or spies sent by his enemies had been the only taste of women he had known. 

You were different. With you, Ivar felt as tall as he should have been without the braces. Like an unbred mare, you knew nothing about being taken by a male. Though he had little experience in the matters of lying with a woman, you weren't aware of it, and he could cover his inexperience in what he hoped came off as self-assured caresses. 

"What are you afraid of?" He asked while pulling away enough to read your expression. 

You swallowed thickly around whatever if it was you wanted to keep down, but the words refused to dissipate, and you wore a vulnerability that Ivar had seen when he spoke with you on his bed.

"I refuse to enter into a life of wanton sin. My mother's world was promiscuous and shameful, and all too short. A body used up by the outrageous and cruel needs of men. I won't let that become my fate."

You blinked away your sorrow while Ivar could only look on and listen in displeasure. The Saxons had such bizarre views on fucking with too many rules. Their God seemed to punish them for needful things, and he couldn't fathom such a notion when his gods encouraged sex and love. It was another barrier keeping him from getting closer to you.

"Your beliefs are a hindrance," He groused while stepping back from you enough to make you calm.

"To what? What do you want from me, Ivar?"

What did he want from you? Everything, yet also something indescribable. Your eyes were focused on him without hesitation as if you had pulled all of the self-confidence out of him and into you. Ivar could feel himself falter as he sputtered with a pink flush up to his ears, struggling to answer. He felt more like a boy than the leader of the heathen army. Reduced to silence by a slave, he couldn't let that stand. Gathering up what spirit he could muster, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in close.

"Aren't you ever curious about what it's like?"

"W-what do you mean?" You stuttered as he dragged a finger down your neck to your collarbone.

"To lie with a man. To have his weight on top of yours, becoming one as he takes your body."

"No. I do not have such thoughts," You said, and it was a thinly veiled lie. Your eyes were looking every which way but straight, and there was a blush to your skin.

"I don't believe you," Ivar said, so close to you that your lips could almost touch. "You have wondered about these things. And after the stories of those chatty nuns, I'm certain it was of thoughts of your Bishop that you were tempted with."

Your refusal to answer was everything. Ivar was living in this fog of lust he had created. He was infuriated by your attraction to Heahmund, but he was also satisfied that he had whittled you down back into his skittish nun. He had you. With thoughts of little else on his mind, he charged forward to land a kiss on your unsuspecting lips.

It was a clumsy endeavor. His aim had been poor, with his nose cracking into yours. Your mouth had been agape when he connected, and your tooth had cut into his lip, unleashing a pool of blood that lingered between the kiss. The taste of copper mixed with you made Ivar groan, and his heart was racing like he was charging into battle. 

As if waiting on the edge of a cliff, you were there, and you joined him in the plunge as you tentatively moved your lips against his. You did not kiss like Freydis or Margrethe, because you had none of their skill or experience. You were like him, with none of the practice but all of the passion, and for Ivar, it was enough. He could have lived in that dark corridor forever, with your tongue gently dancing with his and sharing his blood and air, but his stomach began to burn and he wanted more. His hand started to paw at you, and when he made a grope at your soft breast, you let him know that was the end of it. You did not scratch and push at his chest to try and separate you. Your method was more effective, as you went for his weakness: his legs.

Ivar let out a sharp cry as you squeezed his thigh, immediately causing him to reel back. Your back was sucked up against the wall, and you panted hard as he sent you a harsh glare. Your mouth was stained red and swollen, and the collar of your dress was askew. It was a devastating beauty that he had created.

"I'm sorry," You breathed out, and before Ivar could stretch out his hand, you bolted.

He wanted to scream, not because of what you'd done, but because you had gotten away. When you had gone for his leg, it had been only with enough pressure to get him to let go. You hadn't meant to hurt him, and Ivar was oddly consoled by that. He admired your quick thinking to go for a weakness. It reassured him that you could keep yourself safe if he wasn't there. He was certain now that he was in love with you, and in his mind, you were already his. That was just the way of it.

He stood in the darkness, collecting his breath while summoning calm thoughts. His cock was half stiff in his trousers, delighted by the blood and pain you had incited within him. If kissing you was a battle, then fucking you would be an entire war, and Ivar was already forming plans in his mind to signal for your next encounter. You would not be able to spurn him so easily. 

Ivar teetered back to his room, wearily acknowledging that he would find no rest. It would be of thoughts of you that would torture him to daybreak, and with no true name to escape past his lips as he took himself in hand. He would have to focus on other things soon enough, but that night all that plagued him was your surrender. 

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[firerose]

headcannons about each individual member kf the seven as dark?

So I decided to split this answer into seven seperate posts because otherwise it would be too long (I'm having to much fun wit this XD)

I'll post the first one here <3

Ok, here we go <3, Hazel: People expected her to change after Franks death She had lost her boyfriend at fourteen no one expected that to be easy So none said anything when she kneeled over his grave for five whole days and nights Reyna simply brought her food and hot chocolate and mourned with her But if they all could have had a look into Hazel's mind they could have seen the slow death of the sweet kind girl she used to be Thoughts of hate begin to burn inside her She asks herself why Juno who saved Franks stick from burning up as a baby refused to do it a second time. The question makes her storm up to Olympus, her brown eyes hard with anger Her friends are with her, Of course, they want to protect each other now that one of them has fallen Juno awaits them in her usual glory, tall with a cloak around her shoulder and .. jewellery precious metals decorating her arms and neck "Why didn't? Do you save him? Was he just a weapon you did not need anymore?!, hazel shouts out her suspicion and now people, gods and demigods alike begin to worry The queen of Olympus remains silent She sees the hatred in hazels eyes and regrets not answering her grandsons screams for help when he burned in the flames Her silence is Hazel's answer and in her growing rage the necklace on Juno's neck starts chocking the goddess Hazel does not feel remorse, only satisfaction as she hears Junos choking It is Percy's hand on her shoulder that snaps her out and Juno's necklace flys into her open hand "You will never use a demigod like that again I will make sure of that. She says and then with one last glare leaves Things are not the same when shes back at camp Jupiter Everything and everyone annoys her, reminds her of what she has lost They are around her all the time like, Leo who reminds her of Sammy, Jason who made Frank Praetor, Percy who loved Frank like a brother Whenever they talk about Frank she feels the desire to yell at them One time when Jason tries to comfort her once again she snaps "You don't have to do this just because you made Frank Praetor and you feel guilty.", Hazel tells him a bit too harshly and Jason leaves her She feels guilty so she does her best to act as grateful as possible from now on The days are very hard for her That is why she loves the night She hasn't forgotten the power rush she got on Olympus and that is why keeps practising She steals weapons from the night patrols She makes the tunnels under the field of Mars change so that they all lead to dead ends When some of the new Rome's war veterans talk about having seen lost loved ones at night Hazel pretends to not listen She just thanks Jason in her thoughts for telling her so much about the ones that fell in the titan war Hazel disappears two weeks after Frank's death The remaining five of the seven are devastated They immediately go searching for her but even after five months there is no sign of her Other demigods start whispering Even Thalia who visits Reyna often is part of those whispers She doesn't know hazel and Frank well and yet what she has heard reminds her so much of the story of a friend she had once lost He had been left alone with his fate with his insane mother just like Hazel Thalia fears that now that Hazel has lost a loved one she will seek revenge just like Luke once did. Nico and Percy are Hazel's greatest defenders They deny every rumour and says that Hazel just needs time to calm down it's the only thing that keeps them from drowning in their guilt Hazell has gone to her old home in Alaska Arion took her there It hurts to be back but here she is saved from the gods who used her and her loved ones She's so sick of being their pawn The years pass and all alone in this cold country Hazel's heart turns to ice A few old men yell insult her with racist phrases She controls the metal ankers on their ships to impale them She hears screams from her neighbour's house at night and so she breaks the metal lock to get in The man who is beating his wife only has a second to look at her before her senses reach metal and they find it......in his

blood She concentrates hand stretched out and the man chokes to death She leaves without a word There is no remorse in her, if the gods let her sweet gentle boyfriend die why isn't she allowed to kill a few bad peopöe One day she decides to return as thoughts about her past cloud her mind Someone has to show the gods that they can't treat their children like this She returns after ten years but does not show herself to her friends Maybe because she worries that they notice how much she has changed Instead, she decides to try to control the labyrinth just like Pasiphae once did The mist helps her to create new tunnels that lead wherever she wants them to go One day they lead to new Rome She just wants to look at how everyone is doing but when she sneaks near the city hidden in her magic she sees something that makes her furious Her friends have moved on She sees them celebrating with other Romans and greeks They celebrate Gea‘s defeat like it wasn‘t just a terrible unnecessary war they had to suffer through She hates that they enjoy their demigod lives They should have told the gods that they want to live normally away from both camps that endanger their lives Unfortunately, that makes her think of Frank and how he has ripped away from his life, his home country just to serve the gods Hazel feels her rage burning like an active Volcano close to erupting She walks up the hill over new Rome and looks down at the glorious city She could bury it without even trying For a moment she thinks about the lives that will cost but then again what else could make the gods notice their flaws She reaches for all the metals buried under the city She hesitates for a moment but then she thinks about Frank, his sweet smile and with a scream the earth starts shaking Buildings and temples collapse People get swallowed by big cracks in the earth There are screams horns are blowing Mist is rising and People hear voices whisper that this is god's fault They have to be punished for their mistakes It‘s like a storm of fog being thickest at the hilltop Hazel‘s old friends are filled with dread as they have seen those powers before Leo decides to fly directly into the mist together with Piper and Jason Hazel sees them approaching and a soft smile appears on her lips The mist lightens All demigods gasp Leo yells in despair He already blames himself for Franks death and now he sees that Hazel the girl he once loved has gone mad Her once curly short hair now long falls around her shoulders Her once brown eyes glow sickly golden as if the riches of the earth have taken control over her It drives him insane and so he rips out a hammer from his tool belt and attempts to attack her Hazel feels deeply hurt by this and so she moves her hands Leo is thrown of Festus's toolbelt made of metal turning out to be his curse Hazel smashes him into the ground a hundred feet under him Festus claws impale Jason and Piper before they have time to react Hazel feels a sting in her heart but she oppresses it The gods and their quest would have killed them anyway Percy and Annabeth are still in the falling city trying to get as many people out of there as possible They both try to ignore the corpses falling from the sky Percy‘s mind is still refusing that the girl he sees as a sister would do this He knows that she has to be stopped but how is he supposed to do that? He still loves her like a sister despite the lives she is taking Her real brother steps up instead Hazel can feel his presence behind her It makes her lose focus The citizens of New Rome cry in relief when the metals stop resurfacing Their city is in ruins but at least it has stopped Before Hazel can react skeleton warriors jump out of the earth restrain her by grabbing her arms She is furious about Nicos interference and struggles to escape „Hazel please it‘s not worth it just surrender and we‘ll talk about this.“, Nico says while he walks up in front of her. Hazel‘s heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes and she realizes that she is the reason for it She disappeared She came back and murdered

hundreds She did it for Frank but she suddenly asks herself if Frank would have ever wanted to get justice in this way Would he wanted her to become hateful and obsessed with revenge just for him? As she looks into Nico‘s eyes regret strikes her „I……..I‘m sorry.“, She whispers with tears in her eyes. Nico smiles sadly happy that his little sister came to her senses He stretches out his hand to gently touch her cheek Thunder rumbles and suddenly a lightning bold explodes the hilltop right where the children of the underworld Jupiter feels nothing as he watches Percy, Reyna and Annabeth falling to their knees, sobbing and holding each other Hazel Levesque is just another demigod for him, a girl that could not get over her boyfriend Percy buries Hazel next to Frank all by himself New Rome is rebuilt with the help of the greeks The time goes by and slowly Frank and Hazel‘s names are forgotten Juno would love if they had never existed in the first place Whenever demigods speak of them they do it with anger and the queen of Olympus fears that one day a rebellion will start It's not often that their names are talked about but when they are people always refer to them as „Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. The couple that died in Storm and fire