#i do wish death upon her I don’t care anymore she is not an exception to any of the rich just because she writes below mediocre music

[tw1nfl4me]

genuinely if i have to hear any more about miss private jet ozone layer burning nazi dating high schooler stalking swift i will

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Corlys Velaryon, the Blacks’ double agent on the Green Council

Can we talk about Corlys for a moment, and how TG stans like to praise him for switching sides? Did he really do that? It doesn’t seem like it.

Rhaenyra and Corlys had a falling out which got Corlys imprisoned, under suspicion that he helped Addam (suspected traitor) escape. After Rhaenyra’s death, Corlys was released by the Greens and invited to join their side. The war was not yet over, however.

Now, I have seen so many people talk about how Corlys is just like Otto in his ambition for the Iron Throne. They couldn’t be more wrong.

When the Greens released Corlys and invited him to join their Council, Corlys had many conditions. The first being that Aegon the Younger, Rhaenyra’s son, be named Heir to the Throne. The second was that he wed Jaehaera, in order to permanently end the war. Other requests included that the Blacks’ men all be pardoned, including his granddaughter, Baela. Alicent and her usurper son both spat in his face at hearing these conditions.

Now I ask you this: what did Corlys have to benefit from these conditions? The answer is nothing.

In canon, Corlys has always viewed Rhaenyra as the rightful Queen and that has never changed. Despite being a known misogynist, he himself told Rhaenyra in the book how he considers her an exception to tradition because her father, the King, chose her as his heir. And with no succession law in place, the King’s word is law. Despite his own male primogeniture beliefs, he still saw the reality of the matter: Rhaenyra was the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Even after he and Rhaenyra had that falling out, Corlys never betrayed her and never strayed from the Blacks’ cause. With her dead, her remaining son, Aegon the Younger, was the rightful King. He needed to make sure that the boy would end up on the throne.

Corlys had no reason to join the Greens, and he never truly did. His remaining family, Alyn, Baela and Rhaena were still fighting for the Blacks’ cause. Not to mention that the Greens murdered his beloved wife, Rhaenys.

And if he truly was like Otto Hightower, and didn’t care which side he took as long as it benefitted him, I’ll tell you what he would have done:

Rhaenyra was dead. The war was not over but the Greens were in the advantage. Aegon the Usurper had no wife and no male heir to succeed him. Alicent herself was looking to find him a new wife so that she could prevent Rhaenyra’s son from inheriting.

If Corlys were like Otto, he would have made a different proposal to the Greens: agreed to join their cause, on the condition that the usurper marry Rhaena, his granddaughter. This way, with Rhaena as the new Queen, Corlys would get his wish: his kin on the throne.

That’s exactly what Otto would have done. That snake has no problem sacrificing anything or anyone in order to get the Iron Throne. He has no morals, no limits, no nothing.

Corlys is not like that. Despite his own ambitions, they come second to what he perceives is the right thing for himself and his family, and he has proven that.

Aegon the Younger being named heir and him marrying Jaehaera offers Corlys nothing. Nothing. The only thing it does is achieve his goal of putting the rightful King on the Iron Throne.

So, despite the fact that Aegon the Usurper was not honoring the proposal agreed upon, Corlys remained on the Green Council, and he plotted their demise along with the traitor, Larys Strong.

Corlys was outraged when he heard that the usurper wanted to execute Aegon the Younger and called the Greens “fools, liars and oath breakers.”

So, I don’t want to hear anymore bullshit of how Corlys Velaryon switched to the Greens, because that is the last thing he did. He promoted the Blacks’ interests, helped kill the usurper and have Rhaenyra Targaryen’s son ascend the throne.

[whosthere54]

Prison duo playlist analysis day 7 - Brutus by The Buttress

YES I FINALLY GET TO YELL ABOUT THIS SONG! ME WHEN!

This is mostly gonna be me yelling about the season two prison arc and also probably corruption because wow I’m so normal about that specifically. From Icarus’s perspective mostly is what I’ve thought this through same as most things- though it could be corruption arc Centross too.

Starting off strong with

“I’ve been watching him for my entire life. I hate the air he breathes, his foolish decrees his words so contrived.”

They have known him throughout the first reset that they remember at that point- that being the only thing they remember from their life. They hate him- especially after they remember. They were fine around him before but when they remember their put straight back into the mindset the held during corruption and they hold so so much anger and resentment towards him. They don’t believe a word he says, he broke their trust no matter how little of it was real in the fist place. Why would he tell the truth now? They don’t believe him when he try’s to tell them Rae is sick- because their so sure that Rae would tell them even when they hadn’t fully earned that trust back yet because why would he tell the person who tried to kill everybody here over them?

“And I hate the way the townspeople gather outside. They cling on to every breath, cling to his chest. Home to his heart full of pride.”

Most people of not everyone have met Centross at this point- and most like him. Find him easy to hang out with or are just indifferent to him being there. Rae trusts him more than others, and if Centross said something most would probably believe him especially Rae at this point. Would people believe Icarus? Who’s to say- especially if Jamie and Athena remember. Athena I think trusts Centross more than Icarus with that memory. Easton I don’t know about- I think he would be able to tell if they were lying- but I don’t think he’d trust them so easily.

“The Oracle told him beware the Ides. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wishing for untimely death or demise”

Mmmm. See if this was s3 “The Oracle told him beware the Ides” would be a great line.

I don’t remember off the top of my head if anyone except Centross himself was worried about visiting Icarus- so I can’t make the best connection here.

They would be wishing for his death- not exactly knowingly but they don’t want his here. They don’t want him to be around to hurt anyone anymore and the easiest way to do that would be for him to die. They don’t immediately want to do it themself- but they would be lying if they didn’t wish something would happen to him for what he’d done to the people they cared about- as well as what he’d done to them as much as they try to make it about everyone else.

“Or am I just wishing I could be like you? That the people would see me too as a poet, and not just the muse.”

THIS ONE. THIS IS WHY I SAY SEASON 2.

They wished they were like him in many ways in season one- he was Enderian’s favorite. Her speaker, her first choice. She talked to him the most. They wish NIW that they got the same level of trust and support from others he is getting, wishing they could walk around and not have to pretend they don’t notice the shifting feet and fearful glances when they talk to someone, pretend they don’t notice when Rae talks to them different after maybe a nightmare or something else that reminded him of them then. They wish it was like Centross- where he walks around freely and can gain the trust back of the other people on the server. What they don’t know is how he worked for it- he built that trust back and they haven’t taken the steps to do that yet.

“Oh it’s not true, I don’t wish harm upon you. From birth we’ve been like brothers of different mothers. Within the spirit of the same womb”

Even if they hate each other- they probably understand each other the most out of many of the characters on Fable. They’ve had experiences together through corruption and then have probably seen each other at their most vulnerable in both prison arcs- stretching into season 3 where there’s more trust and vulnerability for it to actually be a healthy exchange.

“May the gods strike me down if I forsake you. Frater meus, you’re beautifully made. And to you I’m forever grateful.”

Mmm. Me when. They didn’t want to hurt him at first- they just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

He taught them a lot though season 1- I think. Just in their mental state really- even if it wasn’t a healthy environment they learned a lot about themself and what they were capable of specifically due to his help. He was part of the people who enabled them to do what they did- even if it was a bad thing. That turns into him enabling and helping them heal and do good later in season 2 and in season 3.

“You’re beautifully made” is a line for sure. Mhm.

“I’ll never forget that you showed me to make art. And I know the love you showered me came from a pure and noble heart. I love you, and if you want I’ll call you king. But why do I lay awake at night thinking instead of you it should be me?”

I don’t want to repeat myself- but same things as I said above he taught them a lot, as well as their respect for him vs their returned lingering hatred and resentment toward him wanting to be in the place he had been from season 1.

“something wicked this way comes. And as I’m set to face it, I’m unsure, should I embrace it? Should I run? What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love? What’s more wrong; that I too wish to be great, or my mother wished she’d had a son?”

Agh- me when. What’s more wrong; that I too wish to be great, or my mother wished she’d had a son?

Tell me that’s not so Icarus coded. Or my mother wished she’d had a son- because- was Icarus ever rally her son? She was their mother, yes, but Icarus was always Creations child. Always in fables shadow, his mini me, his perfect golden child that would do whatever he say. They looked like him too- the spitting image of their father taking on his temperament too.

Skipping a bit because- I’m so normal about this part-

“My name is Brutus and my name means heavy. So with a heavy heart, I’ll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy. My whole life you were a teacher and friend to me. Please know that my actions are not motivated only by envy. I, too, have a destiny. This death will be art. The people will speak of this from near and afar. This event will be history, and I’ll be great too. I don’t want what you have- I want to be you!”

Oh me when they nearly kill Centross. I’m so incredibly normal. About that in particular.

“Please know that my actions are not motivated only by envy”

They didn’t just do this for what he’d done to them- at-least that’s what they tell themself- they do it to protect their family. The only people they care about that he hurt. Their actions are not only motivated by their care for what happened to them, but for what happened to the grove.

“I don’t want what you have- I want to be you!”

Now- contradictory to my last statement- this is about them. About the lingering mindset of corruption that has them in the same place of envy and anger and want that they were stuck in before. They want to be him now- wanting the respect of others like he had, wanting people to care about them in the same way- trust them and believe them the same way they do him. They want it to be easy- to not have to be looked at like they’re crazy or with pitiful gazes lines with fear and panic when the people they love look at them like they’re a monster.

“I always knew I could be the one. Though I feel the endless pain of being, and I am scorched by the sun. Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex. My name is Brutus but the people will call me Rex”

NOW THIS IS THE LINE IF BEEN THINKING ABOUT ALL DAY-

“My name is Brutus but the people will call me Rex”

They don’t know their name at this point so I am not going to say it here- but- “My name is Sherbert but the people will call me Creation(Creation’s child)” BECAUSE HEAR ME OUT- Fable was a military guy, he probably taught them a lot about war strategy as a child of them sitting in the war room as a little kid is anything to go by- and he’s a killer though they don’t know that yet. Following in their fathers footsteps, they’ll hurt the people they care about the most when trying to do something they deem as good for the people. Good for a kingdom, or good for the grove. And then end up with angry looks and sharp words that they didn’t want- that they did this to try and *avoid*

Just- me when they’re called Creation’s child and they follow so closely in his footsteps that sometimes it almost makes the lines blur between the two- even just in their tone of speech. Their tone of speech during the S2 arc and also the corruption arc nearly recreated Fables sharp and angry tones he speaks in and I just. Mm. This is all I’ve been thinking about right now.

That’s all I’ll say- I’ll cut myself off here but I have so many thoughts about this and the season 2 prison arc specifically- hence my whole playlist… it’s fine- I’m normal guys totally.

Anyways!

The image chosen from my prison duo Pinterest board today is-

I’ll leave it at that.

You are loved! Go take any meds if you need to and Go eat and drink water if you haven’t already today <3

Have a good rest of your day/night :]

[skelegun]

Warning: really long meandering post about the Persona series. Also spoilers.

So I’ve been playing a shitload of Atlas games the last like month or two for some reason, and I just recently beat both Persona 5 Royal, and Persona 3 Reload: Episode Aegis. Kinda general spoilers ahead, but it’s really interesting the similarities and differences between the two, when I say P5R I specifically mean the new semester that was added for Royal.

So like they are both continuation of their main game’s story, and they both are about how we deal with grief. This is a logical choice of subject matter for P3 because that game was all about themes of death and loss. For Persona 5 it feels like a weird direction to take the story since that game was more about themes of rebellion and injustice.

Say what you will about Episode Aigis/The Answer, whatever you want to call it, atleast what sparse story content there was tonally consistent with its parent game. In it you play as the android Aegis who developed emotions just in time for her first love to die in her arms. Understandably she is plagued with emotions she can’t understand and in her grief she finds herself trapped in The Abyss of Time.

In Dr.Maruki’s wild ride in P5R, Joker wakes up on New Years Day and discovers that a bunch of a formally dead people are alive again and Morgana is now a human, upon investigating it turns out that when they shot God in the face it some how made Dr.Maruki the new God but he’s more like Bruce Almighty in that he can grant wishes and shit but he’s not omnipotent. Goro Akechi, who isn’t dead anymore contacts you and is like “we need to stop Dr.Maruki because he’s just making people happy by giving them what they want, that’s cheating!” Unlike Aegis though, Joker is just blank slate protagonist so the best arguement Dr.Maruki can give to Joker is that if you stop him Goro Akechi will die again… But Goro Akechi is a deranged sociopathic murderer who flat out tells you he cares more about stopping Dr.Maruki than living.

What about the other party members? In Episode Aegis your party gets fractured by the question of whether they should live in the present or go to back and try to change the past. Ultimately you come to blows over this decision and the team ends up learning that Makoto sacrificed himself for a reason and trying to go back and change that would be folly, so together they decide to honor his legacy.

In P5R everyone except Joker (and I guess Akechi’s) get’s their wishes granted, which mostly takes the form of a dead loved one being brought back to life, and these aren’t like secretly evil Pet Sematary versions or someshit, Dr. Maruki altered the timeline so that they just never died. So you just kinda like walk up to people and do like a friendlier version of the FFTA “it’s escapism” bit, and then like entirely off screen (except Morgana) they all just sort of say “huh I guess he’s right” with like zero resistance. They missed a great opportunity to have some drama and division in the party. We don’t even get to see a scene where anyone of these characters say goodbye to their revived loved ones or anything, they just sorta killed them off screen.

Then when you confront Dr.Maruki about why what he’s doing is evil it’s like kinda just dumb arguments about how he’s robbing people of their agency or whatever which like in a normal scenario is true but the whole idea of the Phantom Thieves is that they go into people’s minds and rob them of their agency so it’s just like whatever.

This is an aside but honestly the Dr.Maruki shit makes little sense mechanically, his powers have like “Jojo final boss Stand” vibes where it’s basically just he can do whatever he wants but somehow he still loses to a bunch of teenagers with punch ghosts.

Persona 5 was my first Persona game and I played it back 2017, and I remember really liking it back then. After replaying it for the first time with all the new content Royal added in, I’m surprised how much I hated the writing. The only mainline persona game I haven’t played is the first one, and while I will say 5/R has the best gameplay and dungeons, it also has the worst writing and least interesting characters.

I do also want to say though that Episode Aegis sucks to play. What little story there is in the experience is all at the beginning and end. Everything in between is a grueling slog of clearing out floor after floor of boring dungeons, and recycled boss fight after recycled boss after, with a few extremely short flashback sequences peppered in.

Oh also the icing on the cake is that at the end of Royal it basically loops back in time to a slightly modified version of the original ending of the vanilla game, and in the canonical sequel, Persona 5 Strikers, none of the new shit from Royal is ever mentioned. So it basically doesn’t matter.

I’m currently play Soul Hackers 2. It’s fun. It’s not a masterpiece, but i like the story and characters so far.

[fantasycorrupted-a]

Driving for yourself was one thing - Rigmor could go slowly (well, not too slowly), she got to admire the scenery she passed by, and she could turn her mind off for a while and not think about anything in particular. A bit like meditation, kind of, except she was still careful out on the road.

Now? Now there were so many thoughts in her head that it was a surprise to her how none had shown on her face as she drove on and on. Bobby, right next to her, was a criminal, he had confessed to her that he had killed people. A little too easily, too, she thought.

“Hey, not to ruin your fun, but... just a thought. What if I’d been the type to poke my nose in your situation and I’d tried to call the cops on you? You should watch out. Don’t just trust anyone, Bobby.” As she said the words, her voice was soft, and she tried to give Bobby a small smile to show this was just some friendly advice. “I hate being told what to do. But I like you... I don’t want to see you get into more shit than you asked for.”

“...I see. Well... I suppose sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Even if it means killing people.” Rigmor shrugged. “I’ve never done it, not yet at least. I don’t want to go through the whole being searched for thing and the staying in prison part. But I think I get why you did what you did.”

When Bobby took his seatbelt off and thrust himself out of the window, she gasped. “Bobby! Careful! Don’t fall out of the car, now!... I feel a bit responsible for ya now, you see. We’re friends. I don’t want my friends to get hurt, or, worse, killed.” Perhaps it stemmed from the selfish human need to know that your presence in others’ lives was good to them, and that you helped them. And perhaps Rigmor ought to take it easy, let him do his thing. But still...

“Why don’t you ignore them? Do your thing? There are plenty of things I dislike about the world. Going out and becoming one of them wouldn’t make me happy, though, I know that. I like where I am and what I do. I’m not judging ya. You sound like you’ve found your place, albeit not without suffering.” She sighed then. “You want to die... in prison?... Why? Wouldn’t you feel better if, for example, you stay there only for a while, until you figure out what else you want from life?”

In a way, maybe Rigmor ought to have been scared. She wasn’t. This time, she wasn’t even that worried, either; there had been enough instances of people pushing her away when she showed she cared about them, and in the end, she’d felt hurt. She was not going to have any more of that, not anymore. Whatever Bobby (or Nate) had done, it was his thing, not hers. She couldn’t judge him. Taking the lives of others was not right, though Rigmor knew there were cases where you had to commit such acts, and even worse ones. And to top it all off, this wasn’t her life; it was his. She couldn’t see the entire picture - so she wasn’t going to judge him.

“James Dean... Ah, yeah. I think I’ve seen Rebel Without a Cause once. He was a handsome man, from what I can remember from photos. And a good actor, too. Tell you what, you don’t need to die. There are few that I would wish death upon for the things they have done. You’re not one of them.” At the mention of a tattoo, Rigmor chuckled. “Maybe. I don’t have my equipment here, but we could organise it if you’re sure what you want and where.”

At some point I might tell him. But not now. Now I’m going to stick to the name I just gave him. To the nickname. As she drove on and on, Rigmor felt her anxiety go up, then down, then up and down again, never going away for good. On the bright side, it had not taken over her entirely, either, and that was good.

“...I think they gave up,” she said quietly, taking a glance at the road behind them; it had been empty for a while now. Bobby started talking then, and she listened. “Did you... Did you need money? Or did you just shoot him for fun? And the car, too...?” Rigmor stole another glance at him before she focused back on driving, her heart hammering hard inside her chest. Holy fuck.

As her new acquaintance lit a cigarette, she lowered the window on his side very slightly, pushing a button on the car’s dashboard, opening the window just enough for the smoke to not stay inside. “Sorry... um... the smoke makes me choke. But you can go on. Just keep your window open a little as you do.” She noticed him looking at the radio - or maybe he was just looking at the car, who knew - and decided to put it on. Why not. Maybe they had nicer songs on at this hour.

“You haven’t ruined it... Bobby.” It felt odd to be calling him that way, for some reason. “This was all so sudden, that’s all. I... didn’t expect a guy I didn’t know to slide inside my car. Last time someone tried to surprise me in a similar way I freaked out. So if I’m not talking much, that’s why.” Don’t think about Jareth, don’t think about Jareth. This is not him. You’re safe. Bobby is just one of those spontaneous types. As they talked, Rigmor’s thoughts kept racing.

“Thanks. They’ve been around awhile now. And I started making some of my own, too.” A gun, huh. Somehow Rigmor was not surprised to hear that. “Why a gun, though?... You sound like you’re mad, and you want to pay people back,” she mused. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Just noticing. I’ve felt that way as well.” She exclaimed then, “An actor like James Dean! That’s amazing. And very ambitious. I can see you like that, you know. As an actor. It would have fit you well.”

[therealvinelle]

for experiments sake, let's say Aro DOES have a vampire who can blow people up. how would twilight go then? (that ask was hilarious btw, thank you!)

(Anon is referring to this post.)

Oh my god I'm so glad you asked.

So, since you refer to a post where I used a random generator to determine who would be blown up, I'm going to go ahead and make that Aro's new guy's power.

He can kill anyone within an instant, remotely, and he can't be blocked. His is Death and he will not be stopped. Let's call him Torgrim, it's appropriately badass.

The drawback being that he has no way of determining who gets blown up. It's completely random. Though for the sake of having my character list be relevant, we'll say that his power only works on vampires.

Aro doesn't have any real use for him, but he didn't want the guy runninng around on his own either so, sure. He can join the guard.

SO. I have a list of 53 vampire characters who are alive during the Breaking Dawn confrontation. All of them are named, as I did not feel serious adding "Volturi witness #1" or "Maria's newborn army recruit #1" when I don't know that the already named characters in the appendix aren't witnessing for the Volturi, or that Maria actually has a newborn army at the time of the Breaking Dawn trial.

Also, for the record, I didn't prewrite who gets blown up, I get to find out as I write this post.

Irina is off the list, as Caius just killed her. Torgrim is on the list.

Alec, Jane, and Chelsea try their gifts, each of them fail. The Cullen side is starting to get their hopes up.

Never fear, Caius has an ace up his sleeve.

A new figure, a man cloaked in vantablack (Aro wanted to give him light gray since he can't actually be used for anything, upon second thought he didn't want the guy to get uppity and start using his gift.) steps forward.

No one's seen this guy before.

Everyone turns to Eleazar, and to Edward, wanting to know what this guy can do.

Eleazar stares at Torgrim, squints, tilts his head, squints harder, tilts his head the other way. Finally, he says "He has some kind of offensive power."

Edward doesn't know what the gift is, but he does know that Aro is shitting bricks. He grins, this guy isn't gonna be a problem.

Torgrim grins, theatrically snaps his fingers, and-

Rosalie blows up.

The Cullens and witnesses scream in equal parts shock and terror. Bella can't protect them after all.

Aro, knowing this was extremely lucky and also that they just killed Carlisle's daughter, wants to pack up and get the fuck out, now. They've shown that they have the power to destroy the Cullens, great, let's show them mercy and leave.

There's not going to be a happy ending now, not with Carlisle's daughter dead and Carlisle himself sobbing on the ground, clutching rubble a few hundred meters away, but the Volturi are now in control. There can still be a peaceful ending.

Edward, reading his thoughts, demands that the witnesses hold their positions, Aro isn't in control of this situation after all.

Caius decides to take the gamble. He tells Torgrim to go.

Stefan blows up.

Caius is now cackling loudly, while the Cullen witnesses are closing their eyes in dread. They were fools to believe they could ever stand against the Volturi, or that some newborn girl could possibly protect them from the Volturi.

Aro thinks about how miraculous his luck is, that not only is Torgrim not killing any Volturi, but he is killing the vampires present. This is everything he ever hoped for from Torgrim.

Edward hears all of this.

Being close to panicking, he finds himself incapable of closing his mouth. He tells everybody that Torgrim has no control of his power, and taunts him.

Torgrim has a few issues.

Here he is, so very powerful, he can kill anybody and everybody, he could render Jane, Alec, Felix, and Demetri all redundant, he could singlehandedly rule the world if he so wished.

Except he can't, because his power is randomized.

He possesses such great power, but no way to wield it.

Now, thanks to mathematically improbable luck, the gods have granted him one moment of glory.

And this rebel twerp means to ruin it for him. This rebel twerp dares to mock him.

Torgrim stares down Edward, narrows his eyes, and with every ounce of his being he concentrates on Edward Cullen.

He unleashes his power.

Kebi blows up.

Carlisle begs Edward to stop talking, everyone begs him to stop talking, Bella is losing control of her shield in distress.

Aro is this close to hyperventilating. Torgrim, for the love of god, don't try it again. He doesn't even need to, Alec can take advantage of Bella's inner turmoil now.

Before Torgrim can use his power again, Aro orders him to stop. Point proven, let's be merciful now. (Before Aro himself blows up.)

Edward, desperate for a win in the midst of all this disaster where he just goaded the Volturi into blowing up Stefan and Kebi, decides it's speech time. He starts talking about how the Volturi are tyrants, they're evil and corrupt and will kill just about anybody. Literally, they have a guy who'll kill anybody at all.

Caius starts doing the math on how many vampires Torgrim has to kill before Edward explodes. Sadly for Caius, Marcus was always the one who was good at maths, but Marcus doesn't care anymore. He asks anyway. Marcus, E = {1 ∈ 0 < n }, and P(Edward dies) = 1/E, uh- Marcus, help. MARCUS.

Aro is debating which option makes him look less terrible, to interrupt Edward and start bickering with this seventeen-year-old or wait until he's done before saying anything, or take advantage of Bella's panic and try Alec again, or-

Torgrim uses his power again.

Liam blows up.

Holy fuck, Siobhan should have prevented that. I guess Python is more powerful than she is.

Someone tackles Edward to the ground, the Cullen surrender, and Alice and Jasper arrive just in time to see that they've already lost.

Aro brings Renesmée and Bella with him back to Volterra, not so much out of interest for Renesmée so much as bringing the daughter is a perfect excuse to bring Bella as well. Bella is too dangerous to be left alone out there. In time, she will either come to see the Volturi as friends, or be executed.

This timeline is the nail in the coffin for his friendship with Carlisle, as he killed his daughter and then kidnapped Bella and Renesmée, but it's a sacrifice he can make.

(Though should the opportunity arise...)

A few months later, wanting to prove to the world that this wasn't just a one-off, that Torgrim is indeed a mighty man who can somewhat direct his power in the right direction and should be allowed to do things within the Volturi, Torgrim uses his power again.

Emmett blows up.

... this program is just refusing to harm the Volturi, huh.

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

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

“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

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

In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

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

“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

[yumeyooa]

bippity-boppity bloom: act one | todoroki shoto

—everyone knows the story of cinderella, saved by a prince and a glass slipper. but what if the true hero wasn’t the prince, but rather the fairy god mother? todoroki shoto has been suffering under the hands of his wicked family his whole life, yet everything changes when he meets you: a fairy forced to take care of him as punishment. will the odds be in your favor? or will everything go down from here on out?

➢  pairing: todoroki shoto x female! reader

➢ genre: fluff | angst | fairy tale au | supernatural au | strangers to lovers au | cinderella au | cinderella! todoroki | fairy god mother! reader | rated 17 | sfw

➢ word count: 15.2k+

➢  warning: she/her pronouns for reader | beatings | domestic abuse | insults | bruises | injuries | bullying | mentions of blood and broken bones | mentions of murder and death | the todoroki family is really evil | i also changed up the birth order for the family | please please don’t read if these bother you; it gets really dark :(

➢ love letter: henlo!! i am late but this is for @milktyama​ ‘s once upon an alternative universe collab!! originally this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i eventually realized that it would be better if this was split into two! although most of the romance comes in the second part T_T i hope you like it and let me know what you think!! 

➢ taglist (send an ask to be tagged): @loveinhaikyuu​ @mirakeul​ @strcwberrieswine​ @kunaigirlx44​ @maxzinn @faewraithsworld​ 

navigation | anime masterlist | act two

Magic was a curious thing. 

Since the dawn of time, people have used magic to describe the unknown, to give meaning to the things they could not explain. That quarter you lost suddenly showing up at your feet? Magic. An electric jolt shooting through your veins after coming into contact with another? Magic. Flowers blooming amidst the cold winter? Magic. 

No matter where you went or what you did, magic was everywhere. It hid itself from the world, waiting in silence for those who would come to know the beauty of it. Those who would cherish it with all their heart and soul and would never abuse it for their own selfish gain. 

To the rest of the world, magic was something they could only wish to find.

But the true secret of magic remained hidden in the arms of those who could wield it. 

“Don’t tell me you’re pranking someone again?” An exasperated sigh calls from behind you, and you turn around, startled to find a young man with deep violet hair haphazardly framing his face. He was staring at you with an unimpressed look as if he had gone through this exact situation plenty of times in the past, and from the way you sheepishly smile back at him, he probably had. 

“Me? Pranking Someone? Why I would never!” You exclaim, faking innocence as the man gives you a knowing look, causing a groan to fall from your lips as you heave a sigh, throwing a playful glare back his way. 

“Oh, come on, Hitoshi!” You whine, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance. “What harm can one prank do? It’s not even that bad!”

“Must I remind you what happened that one time you decided to prank Elder Aizawa?” You freeze in your place, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “He nearly convinced the council of elders to have you banished to the human realm! Do you not understand how grave that could have been?”

You remain silent, sulking. As much as you hated to admit it, your best friend had a point. To fairies, being banished was like a death sentence. Without any support from the all-powerful tree of life, a fairy would wither away and die just like that. It was scary to even think about it, and you were lucky that Hitoshi had somehow managed to save you from that terrible predicament. 

From the very beginning, you had always been considered a peculiarity amongst the other fairies. Whereas they were graceful and elegant, you were clumsy and awkward. Where they excelled in soft chatter and gentle smiles, you reveled in chaos and the undignified. 

You were an outcast amongst the fairies, but you honestly couldn’t blame them. 

Fairies were the keepers of magic, after all. They were expected to uphold a particular image befitting of being wielders of the most sacred entity provided by the tree of life. Fairies were supposed to be noble and delicate. They were supposed to hold their heads up high as protectors of the supernatural. That very image, however, didn’t suit you at all. 

You never understood it. Why did they take pride in being so uptight? It was boring. There was no freedom in upholding the elegance of their kind through every single thing they did. They seemed so bare as if being a fairy sucked all the life out of them. Which was ironic, considering they were supposed to be protectors of the tree of life. 

“—(Y/N)? Are you even listening to me? Hello?” You snap out of your trance, looking at your friend who was staring at you with a nonchalant look on his face. Hitoshi has always been a rather unique character, even to you. He didn’t explicitly fit into the stereotypical image of a fairy, yet he was never ostracized for it. It was as if he was an exception— an anomaly from the harsh judgment of the fairy realm. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You ask, trying to come off as if you were paying attention when in all actuality, you weren’t. Hitoshi sighs, rolling his eyes playfully as he ruffles your head, messing up your hair in the process, causing a grunt of protest to fall from your lips. He sits beside you on the ledge you were perched atop on, staring down at the crowd of fairies below. 

The two of you were apprentices to the council of elders, helping them ensure that there was order amongst the fairies. Order was essential for the protectors of the tree of life because, without it, chaos would ensue, and the world, no, the entire universe, would fall apart. The council of elders was the supreme government of the fairy world, and to be an apprentice to even one of them, was a great honor and responsibility. 

You just hated all the expectations that came with it. 

“What kind of prank were you supposed to play this time?” Hitoshi asks, humming as he stares up at the sky above you. You stare at the wand in your hand, puffing your cheeks in disappointment at the realization that you wouldn’t be able to pull the prank off anymore. 

“Nothing much,” you mutter. “Just wanted to test out some new spells I learned the other day, and I figured why not test it out on some… unsuspecting figures.”

“(Y/N),” Hitoshi says, voice stern as if he were a mother reprimanding his child. You huff, pout forming on your lips. “You know that if any of the other elders were to find out, they’d have your apprenticeship stripped away. What would you do then?”

You stay silent, the truth in Hitoshi’s words stinging painfully, more than it should. He was right. Shunned away from your family since your coming of age, the council of elders was the only one who had accepted you, albeit reluctantly. No fairy wanted to be associated with an outcast after all. It would only tarnish that pure image they had crafted into perfection, and as prideful beings, they couldn’t have that. 

If it wasn’t for Elder Yagi, the most influential fairy in the realm, then you would have been left for dead. Elder Yagi was the definition of the perfect fairy. He wasn’t just delicate and graceful on the surface; he was kind and compassionate within. Although many disagreed with his views on accepting those who didn’t fit into society’s expectations, they could never truly go against him. Because that would be like going against the very essence of fairies, after all. 

So they kept their malice and disdain a secret, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and if you weren’t careful, then their next victim would be you. 

“The elders are calling for you,” Hitoshi says out of the blue, causing your blood to run cold. You stare at him with a shocked expression on your face, and you couldn’t deny the fear that was beginning to bubble within. “Elder Aizawa sent me to look for you. Said they requested your presence immediately.”

There’s a solemn look on Hitoshi’s face, and you can tell beyond the surface that he’s worried. Being called upon by the council of elders meant only one of two things to a fairy: it was either they were to be punished, or they were to be rewarded. And you had done nothing of the sort to deserve a just reward. 

You chuckle, looking down at your lap, not knowing what to say. You didn’t understand why what you did was so wrong. Why were they trying to punish you when all you wanted was to bring life into this otherwise dull place? No matter how hard they tried to hide it, some fairy children enjoyed your pranks, and the thought of bringing smiles to their faces was what kept you going. 

You just didn’t expect to get severely punished for it, though. 

“Thanks for telling me, Hitoshi,” you say, standing up, a fake smile plastered on your face in an attempt to seem as if his recent news didn’t bother you as much as it did. “Guess I better get going then, wouldn’t want Elder Aizawa to scold me for being late again.”

Hitoshi remains silent, staring up at you with an unreadable expression before letting out a sigh, standing up and ruffling your hair once more. “Stop putting up a brave face, idiot. It doesn’t suit you.” You want to protest but can’t find the courage to do so, remaining silent as the smile falls from your face. “Come on, I’ll accompany you there.”

Shocked, you look up at him, features clearly showing your surprise. “What?” He asks, scoffing. “You really think I wouldn’t accompany you to your death? You know that I’d kill to see it happen in front of my very eyes.”

You know he’s joking, trying to lighten up the mood because the nerves running through you are too much to handle. But even so, you’re grateful for it. Despite not being outright honest about it, Hitoshi still cared. He had cared for you ever since you called out one of the other fairies for calling him a disgrace the moment you first met. He had stuck with you through thick and thin and had been the only fairy to believe in you, aside from Elder Yagi. 

And you couldn’t be any more grateful for it. 

“Weirdo,” you call, a genuine smile forming on your lips, Hitoshi reflecting his own, albeit his was a lot less noticeable. You take a deep breath, trying to calm down the nerves that were thrumming deep beneath your skin, and nod to Hitoshi, the two of you teleporting just outside the auditorium of the council of elders. 

You had always hated the auditorium. It was a dark and scary place, dimly lit, with all of the elders present atop a high porch, staring down at you like you were some inferior being to them. Whenever you were in the dark room, assisting the elders in their work, you always felt the paranoia creep up against you, begging you to just run and leave the room, even when there was no immediate danger present. 

That was the effect the council of elders had always possessed since the beginning— intimidation. And you hated them for it. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the raging waves of nervousness that were thrashing wildly deep inside you. You’re shaking. You can see it in the way your hands shiver as you reach out to place a knock on the wooden doors, hesitating. 

“You’ll be fine,” Hitoshi whispers, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here, yeah?” 

It’s comforting. Hitoshi isn’t one for words and prefers to show his care through subtle actions, but you know he means well. Taking another deep breath, you give your best friend a weak smile, knocking on the doors, heart heavy.

Like magic, they open, and a deep “come in” calls out to you, causing you to gulp as you nod one final time to Hitoshi before entering the auditorium, with a hopeful heart dangling on the edge of light and darkness. 

The Council of Elders truly had a knack for intimidation, you think to yourself as you stare up at the seven fairies that governed the world you had come to know. They sat atop their seats (which looked more like thrones, in your opinion), staring down at you with glares on their faces. 

While you had expected their hostility towards you, as you didn’t exactly have the best reputation amongst their apprentices, you were surprised that even Elder Yagi, your mentor, and father figure, was looking at you with a disappointed gaze. What was going on? What had you done wrong?

It’s then, amidst your confusion, that your eyes land on another figure present in the room. The very presence of this figure makes your blood boil in anger, and you try to suppress it with deep breaths, closing your eyes to calm yourself before meeting eyes with the said figure. 

Neito. Oh, how you despised the man. Neito was one of your fellow apprentices who served the Council of Elders, specifically Elder Sekijiro, who was in charge of the vanguard— the elite force of fairies that specialized in defense, ensuring that there was peace and order in the world. 

While it was an honorable position, Neito was not an honorable man in the slightest. Ever since you had met him, he had been mean and downright evil, taunting you every chance he got. He was the very reason you had gotten into trouble, multiple times, with the council. He was your mortal enemy, your archnemesis, the man you wished would fall into a puddle of shit and never come back the same. 

If he was there in the room, then it only meant one thing. He had ratted you out or had made up some ridiculous story to use against you. 

Typical. 

Oh, how you wished you could wipe that ridiculous smirk off his face. 

“(Y/N),” a voice booms and your eyes turn up to meet Grand Elder Nezu, the elder amongst all elders, the wisest and most potent fairy ever known (much to the disbelief of everyone else, as compared to Elder Yagi, Elder Nezu looked weak. But, you supposed, you shouldn’t judge someone based on appearance alone). 

“I bow towards the Council of Elders,” you greet, bowing in respect. Your heart thrummed nervously within you, not sure what to think of this summon. What were they going to reprimand you for this time?

“Are you aware of the reason you’ve been summoned here today?” Grand Elder Nezu asks, looking at you with calculating eyes. You gulp, not knowing how to proceed, but figured that in a situation like this, honesty was the best policy. “Unfortunately, no, Grand Elder,” you reply, eyes cast down in respect. “I have an idea, but even so, I am still clueless to the true reason as to why I’ve been summoned.”

“Ha!” Neito exclaims, scoffing. “Look at how shameless she is, Grand Elder. Pretending to not know when she knows exactly what she’s done?” 

“I beg your pardon?” You ask, feeling yourself get annoyed the more Neito stood there all high and mighty as if he were some chosen one. “I speak the truth, elders. I truly have no idea why I’ve been summoned….”

“Lies!” Neito accuses, pointing a finger at you. “How can you be so shameless after attacking me?”

You pause, blinking slowly as you try to process the ridiculous claim Neito had just presented. You? Attacking him? As much as you despised the guy, you knew that attacking another fairy was absolutely forbidden for an apprentice of the council of elders. You weren’t stupid. 

“Attacking you?” You ask in disbelief. “When have I ever attacked you, Neito?” 

You watch with cautious eyes as Neito smirks at you, eyes taunting as if you had played right into his trap. He grabs the hem of his dress shirt before pulling it up to reveal a massive bruise on his torso. 

“You did this,” he accuses, and you can tell he’s faking it, although judging by the harsh glare you’re receiving from Elder Sekijiro, his act is actually believable. Were the elders really that vulnerable? “You attacked me because you were jealous of my achievements!”

You gape at him, not believing your eyes at the pure monstrosity that was the situation you were facing him. What kind of story was this? There was no way that the council of elders actually believed him, right? Their view of you wasn’t that bad, right?

“(Y/N),” Grand Elder Nezu calls, eyes stern. “Is this true?” 

“Of course not, Grand Elder!” You exclaim in protest. “What reason do I have to be jealous of Neito?”

“Don’t listen to her lies, Grand Elder!” Neito says. With the way he was acting, you swear he could get an award for being the worst and best actor of all time, and you yourself weren’t sure how that was possible. “In fact, the question we should be asking is what reason does she have to not be jealous of me? She’s an outcast. She’s been shunned by society for so long. Everyone knows she hates my guts— although I do not understand why as I’ve been nothing but nice to her— so why would she not want to sabotage me when she sees me excel?”

Scratch that best actor award, you think to yourself. The darn idiot deserved an award for being an expert manipulator. If you didn’t know better, if you weren’t sure of your truth, you would have been swayed by his words, second-guessing yourself and questioning whether or not you did attack him. But unluckily for Neito, you were one stubborn fairy, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“You? Nice to me?” you say, seething, much to the shock of everyone in the room. “Grand Elder, what Neito is saying is absolutely preposterous! Yes, it is true that I hate his guts, but that’s because ever since I’ve been an apprentice, he’s made my life a living hell! And besides, this apprenticeship is all I have. If I do anything to jeopardize it, I would have nowhere to go; I’d basically be dead. Why would I risk it because of one person? And Neito, for that matter!”

You honestly didn’t mean to let your emotions slip like that. But you couldn’t help it. It infuriated you that the council would be willing to believe Neito. Neito who had everything, who had a choice to leave or not, who had a family to return to. Neito who didn’t understand how much pain you were going through, how much torment plagued your heart. He didn’t and would never understand. That’s what privilege does to a person. 

“Grand Elder—” Neito begins, and you swear if he spits any more lies, you would genuinely launch at him and smack him in the face. But before you could make a move, the Grand Elder raises his hand, causing silence to settle in the room. 

“—Enough.” Grand Elder Nezu’s voice booms throughout the empty room, causing the two of you to halt in your banter, bowing in shame and obedience. “The council has heard both sides and are appalled by the disgrace exuded by both fairies, especially you young Neito.” 

You can see the way Neito clenches his fist, glaring at the ground below him, and you can almost imagine the way he thinks the floor is your head, glaring daggers at it for causing him to be criticized by the grand elder of all fairies. But that was the least of your concerns, as you can feel their disappointed glances lying on you as well. 

“For your misconduct, both of you will receive punishment. However, young (Y/N), because of your alleged behavior and misdeeds, we will have to take extra precautions to ensure that this does not happen again.” You can feel your heart beating rapidly within your chest. What kind of punishment was he going to give? You hoped you weren’t going to get banished because you couldn’t stand the thought of not having to see the people you cherished ever again. 

But whatever the council says, goes, and no fairy, no matter how powerful they were in society, could deny their final verdict. 

“For your punishment, young Neito, you will be serving under Elder Aizawa until the Purification Ceremony next fall.” From where you stood, you could see Neito jolt up in fear, eyes pleading with the Grand Elder silently, as if he were begging them to give him any other punishment instead. 

Elder Aizawa was the dean of the academy all fairies were expected to graduate from. And, as a dean should, he was incredibly strict and was known for ruling over his apprentices with an iron fist. Amongst all the elders of the council, he was the one most hoped to avoid serving under, and if you were sent to serve under him, then it meant that you had done something extremely bad. 

Although, sometimes you could hardly believe those rumors, considering Hitoshi himself served under Elder Aizawa. But perhaps that was because the said elder treated Hitoshi like he was his own son, much like Elder Yagi did to you. 

As much as Neito wanted to protest, to exclaim how preposterous it was for a fairy from the noble family of Monoma to not serve through the vanguard, he couldn’t. The elders’ eyes pierced through him, and it was incredibly nerve-wracking once he felt the menacing glare of Elder Sekijiro on him. Even his own master thought he deserved to be punished. What a shame. 

With his head bowed low, Neito grits his teeth, bowing towards the council. “I humbly accept this punishment bestowed upon me by the Council of Elders and pledge to fulfill it until I am deemed worthy once more.” His words contain malice, and you can tell he was trying to control himself from lashing out and making the situation even worse. It was a blow to his pride, after all, that he would get punished after trying to bring someone ‘beneath’ him down. 

Just as he’s about to take his leave, he stops beside you, and it almost feels as if he’s glaring at your soul, cursing it for the things you’ve done to him, although reality has proved that you’ve done nothing wrong. “Just you wait,” he whispers, low enough for only you to hear. “I’ll get you back someday,” and then he leaves, closing the wooden doors shut behind him. 

The silence that envelopes the auditorium is uncanny, you think to yourself. Maybe it was because you were still getting the chills from the words Neito had whispered into your ear. Or perhaps it was because of the unreadable yet at the same time uncomfortable stares the council was throwing your way. Either way, the silence made you want to drown. To hide in the comforts of your room and stay there until the coast was clear. 

“Young (Y/N),” Grand Elder Nezu begins, and you gulp, hoping for the best yet expecting the worst. “As for your punishment, you will be reassigned to another group of apprentice fairies under my guidance— the god fairies.”

What?

...God Fairies?

Grand Elder Nezu smiles softly at the look on your face before clearing his throat and continuing, trusting that you would be able to keep up with him. In his eyes, you were a rather intelligent fairy after all. Strange, but brilliant nonetheless. 

“The God Fairies are a special elite force of apprentices under my supervision. It’s composed of fairies deemed problematic by the standards of our society and utilizes their uniqueness to serve our realm for the better good.”

You wanted to scoff. Rather than an elite force, it sounded like a group of slaves forced to listen to the Grand Elder, with an even more severe punishment dangling above their heads. A suiting sentence disguised as an honor. 

“I know what you’re thinking, young (Y/N),” Grand Elder Nezu says with a knowing look. “However, this elite force is infinitely more important than any other group in the fairy realm, as they help sustain our influence over the humans.”

Confused, you look up to him, a million questions dancing within your eyes. Influence over humans? What exactly did he mean by that? Back at the academy, the older fairies had always taught you that humans and fairies never, under any circumstance, interacted with each other. It was forbidden. Interacting with humans was too dangerous as they were greedy and vile beings who would only seize magic for their own selfish gain should they even catch one whiff of it. 

Magic was not meant to fall into human hands. That was just the way the world worked. So why was the Grand Elder telling you otherwise?

“The God Fairies help ensure that the humans’ belief in magic remains strong,” Grand Elder Nezu continues, even though you were still trying to comprehend what he had said prior. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Being the Grand Elder had numerous responsibilities involved, and those responsibilities waited for no one, not even him. 

“You see, young (Y/N), as the years have passed, we, the council, have come across an alarming discovery,” you look up to the council tentatively, choosing to merely listen as trying to process their words in real time was proving to be complicated. “The tree of life that we have grown to cherish for over a millennium has weakened.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips, and rightfully so. The tree of life was the lifeline of the fairies. It was literally their world, giving life to everything they had ever come to know. The tree of life was what made fairies, fairies, providing them with their gorgeous translucent wings and copious amount of magic to have every other supernatural being out there jealous. 

If it were to weaken and somehow die, then that would mean the end of the fairies. And that was a thought even more terrifying than the prospect of banishment. 

“Fear not, young (Y/N),” This time, Elder Yagi decides to speak up, sensing the inherent panic and fear in your eyes. Elder Yagi always had a knack for reading your emotions, much like Hitoshi. Sometimes you wondered if that chalked up to you wearing your heart on your sleeve for everyone else to easily trample over, but that hadn’t been the case the more you got to know Elder Yagi and Hitoshi. 

They both took your heart within their arms and cherished it like it was their own, even if the way they showed that care differed and was sometimes unnoticeable. Elder Yagi’s words, masked by his usual patriotic smile, were his way of comforting you when the going got rough. And for that, you would forever be thankful.

“We’ve discovered a new way to harness the magic we fairies so desperately need,” Elder Yagi continues, his smile never leaving. “And that solution lies in the humans.”

The moment the word human leaves Elder Yagi’s mouth, Elder Aizawa sneers in disgust, rolling his eyes, and from the opposite side of him, you can see Elder Sekijiro do the same. It wasn’t something new. After all, with the divide and disdain of the fairies towards fellow fae who wouldn’t live up to their noble standards, their disgust was only further amplified with the knowledge that other inferior beings, such as humans, existed. Even with their inferiority, they were beginning to push the fairies to the brink of a calamity with how much they were destroying the order of nature. 

So you understood that there was an even greater prejudice towards humans, and you could feel nothing but sympathy and agony, knowing precisely what it feels like to be on the receiving end of such animosity. 

“The humans,” Elder Yagi continues, not paying much mind to the disheartened expressions on his fellow elders’ (with the exception of the Grand Elder) faces. “Surprisingly, have an innate source of magic within them, much different from our own.”

Confused, you look up at the kind elder, allowing yourself to show a little emotion with the way he looks down kindly at you as if he were a father talking towards his child. Elder Yagi had always guided you when you felt lost amidst the noble fairies that served under the council and was more than happy to help you with whatever you needed. 

Yet, currently, Elder Yagi was the main source of your confusion. 

“When a human begins to believe in the supernatural, their innate magic ability awakens and pours out of them like waves, and when they sustain that belief? That innate magic becomes stronger.” It’s a revolutionary discovery, in your eyes. Humans had always been thought of as useless. But more than that, the council had constantly reminded the fairies to stray away from them, as no one knows what hidden malice the humans could have, despite the disbelief of your fellow fae. 

“This is why we have formed the God Fairies, to ensure that the humans’ magic will be sustained and harnessed for our survival.” Elder Yagi looks at you, and you feel yourself flinch at the serious glance on his face, something that you knew wasn’t usual for the strong fairy. “Do you understand, young (Y/N)?”

The only thing you have the courage to do at the moment is nod, not trusting the thoughts that were lit ablaze in your mind, chaotic and unhinged. You knew that if you were to speak, your words would have most likely enraged the council as you currently had no control over them. 

“Good.” Grand Elder Nezu says after a few moments of silence. “In line with this, we will be assigning you, young (Y/N), to a human. Your punishment, or in this case, mission is to ensure that you’ve collected enough magic to sustain a family of fairies the same size as Young Neito’s.”

Your eyes widen, and you divert your attention towards Elder Yagi, begging him to say that the Grand Elder’s words were not true. But when you see Elder Aizawa sport a sinister grin from the corner of your eye, you feel your heart sink. As much as you hated Neito, he was a powerful fairy who came from a highly influential family within the realm. It was the reason why he was in the vanguard. After all, his family’s influence has been his threshold throughout the days you knew each other. 

And for a family as prominent in magical combat as his, they needed copious amounts of magic. An amount that you were sure couldn’t be collected by one fairy. In fact, the powerful fairies of the realm often sourced their innate magic directly from the elders themselves, a privilege that not many were able to enjoy. 

This was a punishment, after all. Great. Just Great.

“I understand, Grand Elder,” you say after finally composing yourself. You can feel the dread gradually sink in, and your mind races with worry at the thought of having to go through the daunting task. “I will do as you desire. For the glory of the fae.”

You can sense the satisfied yet cunning smiles of the council, pleased with your decision, and you heave a sigh, unsure of what the future could have in store. 

You could only hope that you wouldn’t be screwed over in the process. 

The human realm was fascinating, to say the least. 

When you first stepped foot on the lush forest of the realm, just on the outskirts of a bustling city, you couldn’t help but feel amazed. No amount of preparation from the elders or your friends could truly prepare you for this moment. 

For the past few weeks, Grand Elder Nezu and Elder Yagi had been preparing you extensively for this mission. They briefed you on the does and don’ts of a fairy entering the human realm, bragged about other god fairies who had succeeded in securing a sustainable amount of magic for the fairies, and just boasted. 

There was no comfort nor reassurance from either elder, which you had expected from Elder Yagi, but as you had come to find out, it seemed as if your father figure was still disappointed in you, causing your heart to sink. Did he really believe that you deserved to be punished?

You couldn’t even get this heavy feeling out of your chest. The worst part is that you couldn’t consult your best friend, Hitoshi, at all about this matter. Hitoshi had no knowledge of the god fairies as he had been a devout apprentice under Elder Aizawa’s care. He had no reason to know about it, he was already doing great, and that thought made your stomach churn. 

You desperately wanted to confide in him, to spill your fears and anxieties for him to hear. No matter how insufferable Hitoshi was, he was a great listener and a great friend. 

Gosh, you haven’t even spent one second in the Human Realm, and you were already feeling sick to your core. 

At least the view made it better. 

The council of elders had decided to assign you to a human living in the Musutafu Empire, nestled in the far east of the mortal realm. The Empire was drastically different from your own simple abode back in the fairy realm. Whereas yours was deeply rooted in nature, theirs was thriving on industrial roots. 

You couldn’t explain it, but the way they structured their buildings and houses was beautiful. It was a whole different style from what you were used to back home, with high walls and rowdy streets. The people were smiling, clad in clothing that was tight yet loose at the same time, with a ribbon wrapped securely around their waists. Far different from the flowy garments that you had back in the fairy realm. 

As you made your way to the capital, marveling at all the new sights that were capturing your eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder what the human assigned to you was like. Would he be stuck up like all the fairies you had come to know? Or would he be kind, much like Elder Yagi and Hitoshi were? The curiosity burned deep inside you, and you found yourself brimming with excitement at the thought of meeting him. 

Your mission was fairly simple if you could take away the fact that you had to harvest an impossible amount of magic. You were to watch over a selected human, who the council deemed had the potential to unlock their innate magic and help them when they most needed it. 

Almost as if you were someone who granted wishes, was what Grand Elder Nezu said. Granting wishes was the most effective way to strengthen the human’s belief in magic, allowing their own to flow out for the taking. Of course, there were other ways, such as haunting the humans or causing supernatural disasters that didn’t make sense. But such methods were unbecoming of fairies, and you couldn’t help but groan at the thought. 

Haunting seemed fun, after all. Almost as if you were constantly playing a prank on an unassuming human. You would have killed for that to be your punishment instead. 

But no. You were stuck with granting wishes, albeit not as often, as showing too much magic mind taint the human with greed and desire. Something that no fairy wanted. 

Checking on the special compass that the elders had given you prior to your journey, you make your way towards your assigned human, gaping in awe at the view of the capital down below you. Of course, with the magic you held, they wouldn’t be able to see you as you had concealed yourself prior, but you wished they could. It would have been fun to see their shell-shocked expressions. Maybe that was a more efficient way of harnessing their magic?

Or, rather than being an efficient method, it was most likely going to be a one-way ticket to banishment from the fairy realm, aka an express ride towards death, something you wanted to avoid at all costs. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spot the house of the human the elders had assigned to you. It was big, much larger than your own humble cottage back in the fairy realm, yet, even so, it didn’t compare to the ginormous estates that lay north of the house, almost as if it belonged perfectly in the middle. 

You gasped at the tranquility of the mansion, almost as if you had once again been transported into another world. It was almost as if in this home, time stopped, and peace overflowed. You perched yourself atop a sturdy branch, looking around and admiring the view.

But peace doesn’t last for long because all of a sudden, a slam rings through the air, and you watch curiously as a large man, who oddly enough looks similar to Elder Sekijiro, although that was probably a figment of your imagination, there was no way the frightening elder would actually be in the human realm, stumbles into view.

The large man looked pissed, you noticed, as he dragged something behind him, and it’s only till the large man threw whatever he was carrying harshly unto the tree you were perched on did you realize that what the man had dragged wasn’t just a thing, but rather it was a person. 

You gasp, heart breaking at the sight of the young boy. From where you sat above him, you could tell that he was covered with bruises all over, with a ghastly scar covering one of his eyes. The poor boy looked so weak and frail that you wanted nothing more than to steal the boy away and tend to him until he could stand on his own two feet one more. It was cruel. Was this the doing of that man?

You look up, and it’s only then that you notice a few more children looking at the scene below you with different expressions on their faces. There were about three of them; two boys and one girl. The tallest and assumably the eldest had an unbothered look on his face as if he couldn’t care less about the poor boy who had just been thrown into a three. The second boy, with snow-white hair, sported a sadistic grin as if he were enjoying seeing the young boy in pain. And the girl? The girl, who looked so sweet and innocent, held eyes of pure disgust as she clutched her teddy bear tighter to her chest, almost as if she were glaring at the young boy. 

Was this the kid’s family?

“Shoto!” The large man, whom you had deduced to be the father, screamed. You flinch at the loudness of his voice, intimidation flowing out of him in waves, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You look down, heart hurting at the sight of the young boy cowering in fear, but he still kept a brave face. Well, as much as he could do in that situation. 

“You dare disobey your brother?” He continues, tone raising more and more as his fists clench. “How many times have I told you to listen to your siblings? They’re much older, stronger, and smarter than a little piece of shit like you. Heck, even Fuyumi, who’s a girl, is much more dignified than your pathetic ass!”

The more words fell from the man’s mouth, the more you wished to hex him with forbidden magic. Although doing so would only make your punishment worse. The elders were strict about black magic, after all. Anyone who even showed a little bit of interest was considered a threat and was sent to conduct punishments almost immediately. It was cruel, but you were on wit’s end because nowhere had you seen a vile man like him. 

“It’s true, father!” The second sibling says, the sinister grin on his lips only growing. “I had asked Shoto nicely to help with my chores because I wanted to get more practice in for the royal knights’ examination, but he had the audacity to retaliate with the excuse that he already had chores to do.” The kid scoffs, rolling his eyes in the process. “He barely does anything in this house, yet he’s a burden to those of us who actually are? Father, he deserves punishment!”

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach as if you were getting deja vu from this situation. The look on that kid’s face painfully reminded you of Neito, and you couldn’t help the gut feeling that made you believe that what the kid was saying was far from the truth.

“Shameful!” The father says, raising a hand to slap the young child to the side, and you gasp in horror wanting nothing more to interfere, yet the Grand Elder’s words ring harshly in your ear. There needs to be a balance. He had said. It would plunge the realms into total chaos if more than one human discovered the reality of magic simultaneously, especially those with foul intentions. 

You couldn’t reveal yourself, not yet, at least. Yet, at the same time, you wanted to curse the elders back home, for they had assigned to you a child who was literally experiencing hell on earth and only gave you limited movement to help. 

You watch, feeling the tears threaten to fall as the damn bastard of a father lands another punch towards his son, to the point where he begins to cough blood. Your eyes widen in horror as you hear the other children’s cheers. Why were they like this? Weren’t they family? Why were they treating one of their own like he wasn’t? He didn’t deserve this. He was only but a child!

When the father was finally finished with his rain of terror, you couldn’t help but release the breath you were holding in. Finally, it was over. But as if he couldn’t get any worse, the father towers over him, blue eyes boring into his kids. “If I see any of these bruises and wounds healed,” he whispers just enough for only Shoto to hear, but with your heightened senses, you couldn’t help but listen in. “Then you will get a beating far worse than this one. Do you understand?”

The kid nods weakly, not having the strength to communicate properly, causing the father to glare at him harder. “You are a disgrace to the Todoroki name, Shoto. Never forget that.”

And just like that, he leaves, the children following closely behind with mocking looks on their faces. The second sibling even goes so far as to spit on his youngest brother, causing you to clench your fists in anger, wanting to teach that kid a lesson. What kind of twisted personality did he have? Why was he treating his family like this? You just couldn’t understand. 

When they finally leave, leaving the young kid on the rough ground, wallowing in his misery and pain, you find it in yourself to come down and take action. What action, you may ask? You weren’t quite sure yourself, but every fiber in your being was begging you to do something to help the poor child. 

You kneel beside the beaten-up boy, weaving your hand through his dirtied hair. The boy looked like he hadn’t even been given an ounce of care throughout his life. How could this be? Wasn’t a family supposed to love each other? But you knew yourself that not all families were like that, only the lucky ones. 

The world, no matter what realm you were in, was cruel and cold to those who didn’t fit in, to those that made them feel sick. Within your heart, you knew exactly what the young child was feeling, although only to a certain extent as it could never compare to the feeling of getting beaten up by the people you were supposed to love on a day-to-day basis. 

But you too had been abandoned, you too had been ridiculed, and you knew how much that pain could carry through the rest of one’s life. The pain never truly goes away. It would only get buried, waiting for the moment it could come back to life. And if that pain was prolonged? Then that would only make things worse. 

So you decided, with a firm grip on your heart, that until you had to leave, you would be there for this child. More than punishment, more than a duty you had to fulfill, you would be there for him until the very end. 

That was a promise. 

Todoroki Shoto had never known love. 

For as long as he could remember, ever since the day he was born, his family had hated him. For what reason? He couldn’t quite comprehend, but now that he was a bit older, he understood to some extent. 

His birth had caused his mother to die. 

It was something that his family reminded him of every day. Whenever his brother, Natsuo, forced him to do his share of chores, he would always add in a snarky remark saying how it was the least he could do since he took his mother away from him. It hurt, but he couldn’t argue. It was the truth, after all. Him being born into the world had caused their own mother to leave it. It was only natural for his family to hate him. 

From what he had heard, his mother was a very kind woman. With the same snow-white hair that covered half of his head, Todoroki Rei was known to be an angel. She was kind, always selflessly showing her love, and in turn, everyone loved her for it. She was the life of the party, even though she was frail, and never failed to make everyone around her smile. She was what one would consider the embodiment of good.

And Shoto had taken her away from them. 

Everyone in the Todoroki household hated him, even the servants. How dare a useless child like him take away their mistress? How dare he live on as if nothing was wrong when he was the very reason that the light of the Todoroki household dimmed out. He was a despicable child in the eyes of everyone else, one that never deserved love. 

So they fed him moldy bread and spoiled milk, rotten fruits, and water that was clearly full of filth. They wanted him to die, to pay for taking their mistress away from them. And no one in his family ever stood up for him. 

His eldest brother Touya never even spoke to him. It was as if he was actively trying to ignore the kid. Whenever Shoto went up to talk to his brother, he would simply pass him by as if Shoto didn’t even exist. Yet whenever Shoto would catch peeks of the family eating a nice supper over the dinner table, his brother was actively engaging in conversation, causing an arrow to go through his heart at the realization that Touya truly did intend to ignore him. 

His second brother, Natsuo, was no better. The only difference was that he actively tried to make Shoto’s life a living hell more than it already was. Natsuo took all his anger and grief out on the young child with snarky remarks and condescending tones. There was even a slap on the cheek every now and then, to which he would complain that it was Shoto who assaulted him, even though it was far from the truth. And everyone would believe him. Because who would believe the words of a child whose birth meant the death of another?

Then there was Fuyumi, his only sister. She sported that same gentle nature as his mother, according to the house servants, yet to Shoto, she was a wicked and cruel child. She was petty, treating Shoto as if he were a slave. When her favorite tea was too hot for her liking, she spilled the scalding hot drink all over him, soon after berating and slapping him for letting the said liquid fall onto her plush carpet. It made no sense, but Shoto could never complain. Fuyumi was the darling of the family, after all. 

But his father? He was the worst of them all. 

Todoroki Enji was a curious man, to say the least. As one of the leading figures of the oldest families of the Musutafu Empire, his very presence brought tremendous waves of awe among the masses. The Todoroki family was one of the most revered families in the whole empire, and everyone had always looked up to them, seeing them as the perfect family. 

But Todoroki Enji had taken that image of perfection into heart, and it showed through the things he did behind closed doors. Rei’s death hit him the hardest, not because he was heartbroken that his other half died, but rather it was because that image of perfection had been broken into pieces, and he loathed it. He hated the pitiful gazes of the masses, as they stared at him as if he wasn’t the perfect being they needed him to be. It enraged him to no end. And the only outlet of this burning rage was the cause of all this brokenness, his own son. 

Everything Shoto did angered him. Even taking a breath angered him. Every action, look, and word that came from the young child infuriated the head of the house, and he couldn’t help but take it out on him. Treating Shoto like he wasn’t a child but rather an enemy on the battlefield. Every day he would ruthlessly beat Shoto up until he felt satisfied, leaving Shoto battered and bruised with no chance of recovery. It was terrible, something anyone with a heart would hate, yet all those who resided in the Todoroki Mansion thrived on his misery. 

So yeah, all his life, Todoroki Shoto had never known love. 

But when he feels a hand gently caress his face, brushing his dirtied hair off of his face and running a thumb over his bruising cheek, he wonders if maybe this was it. Whoever was touching him had such a gentle and soft touch, a touch that he’s never felt before in his life. It was warm, far different from the cold caresses of his family. He wanted nothing more than to stay in the comfort of this warmth. But what if this was just a figment of his imagination?

He opens his eyes slowly, bearing through the pain and heaviness that came with it, and his gaze meets yours, and he’s blown away. 

Your eyes look at him with sincere kindness, one that Shoto has never seen before in his life. He’s only been alive for a few years or so, and he can tell that this was what was right. Not his family, not the servants treating him with extreme hostility. No, you, a stranger he had never seen in his entire life, was already treating him way better than the whole world would ever treat him. And it had only been a few seconds since his eyes met yours. 

“W-who…” he stutters, blinking wearily as if he wanted to get a closer look, but you shush him with gentle whispers, continuing to weave your hands through his dual-colored hair that looked stunning under the sunlight, even if it was smeared to no end. 

“Shh, don’t speak, child,” you say, motherly instincts that you were unaware of surfacing. “You are injured. Speaking will only make it worse.”

Shoto nods, staying silent as you continue to run your fingers through his hair. Suddenly a surge of warmth rushes through his body, and he watches amazed as the pain from his father’s beating slowly goes away, even if the bruises didn’t disappear. 

“There, that should do the trick!” You say, smiling brightly and voice cheery in an attempt to console the young child. Shoto slowly sits up from where he laid on the hard ground, looking at his hands in awe. How did you do that? How did you make all the pain disappear?

“I apologize,” you say, looking sheepishly at Shoto once you noticed he was staring at his arms in awe. “Your father mentioned that he would hurt you even more if your injuries are healed, so I’m only able to make the physical pain go away, but the wounds remain. I hope that’s alright.”

It’s more than alright, Shoto thinks to himself as he looks at you in awe. Shoto had never felt this alive before. It was as if his energy was restored and multiplied as if the numbness that had accumulated from the years of beating had vanished without a trace. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, not having the courage to spill his heart out in fear that you would take his feelings and crush them in the blink of an eye. If Shoto were to be honest, if anyone else aside from the people he had come to know were to berate him more than he already was on a daily basis, then he would truly crumble. 

“But… who are you?” He asks, finally coming to his senses. “Why are you here? It’s dangerous. If father finds out, then you—”

“—Do not worry child, I will be fine.” You’re doing better than expected despite the rapid beating of your heart from how nervous you were. You really hated this motherly image you were exuding, wanting nothing more than to be as carefree as you usually were, but first impressions were important, and you had to time things just right. 

You smile, looking at Shoto with the kindest gaze you could muster, patting him gently on the head in the process. 

“I’m your fairy godmother, after all.”

“F-fairy g-godmother?” Shoto asks, clearly confused. You giggle at his perplexed expression, amused. It was fascinating how the child still seemed to be as innocent despite the harsh realities he had been through. He was a strong human, you supposed. And quite an adorable one too. 

“Yes, child,” you say once more, standing up and bringing Shoto up with you, although he stumbles, legs weak from being on the ground for too long, but you’re quick to catch him, giggling once more at the flustered expression on his face. 

“I’m your fairy godmother,” you repeat, lines poised and precise like you had been trained to from the Grand Elder. “And as your fairy godmother, I’ll be here to make sure that your pain will be more bearable until you can fly free on your own.”

“Fly?” The young child asks excitedly, eyes beaming. “Will I be able to fly someday?”

“Not in the literal sense, child.” You giggle, the tiny human bringing the weight of the world off your shoulders. It was refreshing to interact with him. Perhaps this was why parents decide to have children. They were oh so loveable when they were young. You could only hope that the pureness of his heart wouldn’t be tainted even further by the harsh reality of his family’s disdain. 

“But you’ll understand what I mean very soon,” you say, kneeling down towards his level. “And until then, I’ll be your wings, alright?” 

It’s clear that Shoto doesn’t understand a word you’re saying, but that’s alright. He doesn’t need to understand at the moment. He just needs to believe. And from the pure amazement and wonder in his eyes, it looks as if he’s already on a one-way track towards it.

“Now, child, before I send you off, you must remember something very important.” You say, tone a bit sterner as Shoto gulps, nodding his head and turning his full attention towards you. His concerned and slightly worried look on his face makes you want to break your facade and laugh along with him. But this truly was an important matter, and if you didn’t drill it into his brain, then your mission would have been all for naught. 

“Under no circumstance, must you tell of my existence to another soul, do you understand?” There’s uncertainty in the child’s gaze as if he doesn’t truly understand the weight of your words, but he nods nonetheless, agreeing. “Not your father,” you continue, hoping to make your point a bit clearer. “Nor your siblings, nor any stranger that you come across. You can’t reveal my existence to anyone, understand? This is a secret between you and me. Can you keep it?”

A beat of silence passes the two of you as Shoto lets the words sink in. He truly doesn’t understand why he can’t tell anyone else about you. It didn’t make sense to him. Weren’t you supposed to make his pain more bearable? Then why couldn’t you do that in the form of mending his relationship with his family? It saddened Shoto because in the few moments you had spent together, in those few minutes he got to know you, Shoto already considered you a friend. His first friend, in fact. 

Why couldn’t he show you off? 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that you, too, would get punished by his father if he were to reveal your existence. His father was a terrifying man. If he wanted something, then he would get it, no matter how difficult it was to obtain. His father held himself in high regard. And anyone who didn’t fit his standards was considered worthless and useless. If he were to find out that you were associated with him, the failure of the family, then who knows what his father would do to you?

He wouldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow that. You were the first person to show him kindness, and he couldn’t just let you slip away. That would break him to the point of no return. 

“Sure,” Shoto mumbles shyly, a bashful smile forming on his lips. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have guessed that this child was frequently beaten up by his family, much less hated by them. He seemed like a great kid, who needed a friend to stand by him, and although Grand Elder Nezu and Elder Yagi had strictly advised you against being too attached to your assigned human, you couldn’t help it. 

Who were you to ignore such a loveable child? 

You smile, the sternness gradually leaving your face, and raise your hand towards him, pinky pointing out. “Promise?” Shoto looks at you before his eyes dart to your outstretched finger, bewildered and unsure. 

“This is a pinky promise,” you say, realizing that he didn’t understand what you were trying to do. “When we link our pinkies together like this,” you continue, intertwining your pinky with his and locking them together. “Then that means our promise is sealed in stone and can never ever be broken.” 

You give Shoto a small smile, your other hand reaching out to pat his head gently, while Shoto looks at your intertwined pinkies in awe and admiration. 

In his haze, you finally stand up, your heightened senses hearing angered footsteps approaching, and you look worriedly at Shoto, hesitant to leave.

“I have to go now,” you say, heartbreaking at the way his expression falls from his face, replaced with a disappointed one.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be back.” You’re quick to reassure him, waving your hands frantically as you give off a sheepish smile. “I’ll be back when you need me the most,” you clarify, panic rushing in as the hurried footsteps become louder.

“Promise?” Shoto asks, stretching out his own pinky to you, reflecting what you had just taught him. This catches you by surprise, but you’re quick to smile, intertwining your pinkies once more.

“I promise,” you genuinely whisper, watching with mirth in your heart as Shoto looks up at you with a warm smile of his own, eyes looking at you tenderly as if he were sending you off.

And just like that, you vanish, much to Shoto’s shock, as the sliding door behind him slams open, and a servant comes out storming towards him angrily. But honestly, Shoto couldn’t care less.

Even as the servant berated him and dragged him harshly back into the mansion, Shoto couldn’t help but feel all warm and giddy inside. He had made his first friend.

And that was more than anything he could ever ask for.

Ever since your first meeting with Shoto, you had begun to grow closer towards the abused child, feeling a connection start to grow.

Of course, you didn’t show yourself to him as often as you wanted to, as you had your own limitations. Because as the council had told you before your departure, they were watching. And that was a frightening thought to ever take for granted. 

It was too risky to put your personal desires over your duty at the forefront, so you had to work your way around the rules laid down by the Grand Elder. You had to be sharp, had to show your support and friendship in other more mundane ways so Shoto would continue to believe.

You were still a fairy on a mission, after all.

Harnessing magic wasn’t a one-time thing. If it were, then the council would have easily done it by now. The truth of the matter was that cultivating the magic out of humans required time, effort, and care— a feat that was far too tedious for the council to partake in, which was why it was up to the God fairies to carry it out.

As the relationship between a god fairy and their assigned human continued to grow, so would the amount of magic present within the human. Once it got to its breaking point, then the god fairy would immediately harness it, marking the end of their relationship and causing the human to never believe in magic again. 

It was a cruel process but one you couldn’t avoid as it meant your life or death. But the more time you spend with Shoto, the more your resolve seems to break, and you begin to question whether or not you could actually pull through with what you were meant to do. 

The door slides open, snapping you away from your train of thought, and in walks Shoto, a new bruise forming over his right eye. 

Even if you couldn’t show yourself on a daily basis, you still made your presence known to Shoto through small acts of magic, ones that wouldn’t be considered overboard by the Grand Elder. You would have followed Shoto everywhere he went, watching his every move and ensuring that he was safe, but in a way, it made you uncomfortable.

And you couldn’t stand seeing the way his family and servants treated him. It was too cruel. You were sure that if you spent any second longer seeing his siblings ridicule him or his father punch him, then you would lose control. And everything that you had worked desperately for would have gone to waste,  which was why you distanced yourself from the young child whenever he was around others. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it. It was for the best; you tried to convince yourself. You were doing the right thing. 

But that didn’t mean you didn’t help him at all. As Shoto quickly makes his way to his worn-out futon, wincing in pain at all the bruises his father had given him from the day’s beating, you couldn’t help but fuss over him, immediately reaching out to take the pain away in your invisible state, external wounds remaining. 

“Fairy Godmother?” Shoto calls out weakly, feeling the pain leave him gradually as warmth replaces it. His eyes feel lighter, and he finally works the courage to open them fully, only to be met with his dark room. You were still invisible. You hadn’t shown yourself just yet. “Are you there?”

You wanted to respond. You desperately do. But the weight of your duty weighs heavy on your shoulders, and you hesitate, unsure whether or not you would reach out to him. You two were close, that was for sure. Throughout the few months of your ‘friendship’ with Shoto (if you could call it that), you had come to know just how precious the child truly was. Even after all the hardships and suffering that overcame him, he was still bright and innocent, something you never entirely understood, but you supposed that was what made Shoto… Shoto. 

 “Fairy Godmother?” Shoto calls out again, this time a little more desperate. His eyes dart around, trying to find you, but you were nowhere to be seen. All he wanted was to see you again. Sure, you had in some way, shape, and form always made your presence known through your kind acts, but it didn’t feel complete. It was as if Shoto was talking to a ghost, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to speak to his friend, the one person who made him see the light in what seemed like a never-ending darkness. 

“Please,” he whispers like a prayer, hoping that you would show yourself. “Are you there?”

You couldn’t take it. This was torture to you. You knew you would get reprimanded either way, but as a fairy tasked with the responsibility of taking care of this child, you had to do it. He was practically crying out at this point. What kind of soul wouldn’t help him?

“I am here, Shoto,” you say, finally revealing yourself, and you feel yourself wince at the tears of relief that slip past the young child’s eyes. “I am here.”

Almost immediately, Shoto lunges at you, wrapping you in the tightest embrace he could muster. Was this real? He thought to himself. Were you actually here? This wasn’t a dream, right? What if you left him for good? He didn’t think his heart could handle that. 

“You’re here!” He whispers, nuzzling into your stomach, giggling. “You’re actually here!” How could a child be so precious? You wonder to yourself. He was so innocent and pure. Why was his family hurting him like he wasn’t? From the time you had come to know Shoto, you could tell that he was a kind soul. He didn’t deserve any of the pain inflicted by his family. He deserved nothing but love and happiness. You just wished you had the authority to give it to him. 

But alas, even with your freedom came chains that sought to bind you to the harsh realities of the world. 

“Yes, I am, Shoto,” you giggle, running your hand soothingly through his hair, knowing how much comfort it brought the young child. “What is it that you need?”

“Nothing really,” Shoto replies after a while, merely basking in your warmth for as long as he could. “I just wanted to see you again.”

If Shoto were, to be honest, he was afraid that you were merely a product of his own imagination. His family often mocked him for it, calling him delusional in every way they could. Delusional for thinking he was loved; Delusional for thinking he deserved to be loved, and more so delusional for thinking that he could actually receive love from his family. 

He was raised to believe that in one way or another, he was delusional, so somewhere deep down inside him, he thought that maybe you were a product of his delusions too. 

But here you were, smiling down at him with such tenderness and care that Shoto knew you were anything but a delusion. He smiles brightly, the pain from earlier slowly melting away in your presence, and he drags you with his little hands towards his small, worn-out mattress, encouraging you to sit. 

You follow him, eyes frowning at the state of his mattress. This was no way to treat a human being. Even back in the fairy realm, although it was clear that many were not fond of you, they still gave you common courtesy and respect as any other living being should. What Shoto’s family was doing to him was horrible, and you wish you could bring him out of it. 

“Could you tell me a story?” Shoto asks out of the blue, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. “A story?” You repeat, unsure if you heard him correctly. Shoto nods, moving to lift a part of his mattress off the ground to reveal a hidden pile of storybooks that you never knew existed.

“My father doesn’t let me read,” he whispers, fingers darting over the dusty covers. “Says I’m not worthy of it.” Your hands clenched into fists beside you as you tried not to let your anger show, but Shoto could feel it slowly dripping off you in waves. “It’s fine, though,” he says, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t as affected by it as he truly was. “I’m used to it….”

A beat of silence passes the two of you as you look at the solemn gaze on Shoto’s face as he continues to run his fingers through the cover of the worn book longingly. With a sigh, you gently take Shoto into your arms, catching the young boy by surprise. 

“You don’t have to hide in front of me, you know?” You say, seemingly scolding the child, but your tone was light, a small smile making its way to your face. “Friends don’t hide things from each other.”

From where he sat in your lap, Shoto looks at you with a bewildered gaze on his face, as if he were mesmerized. You simply smile at him, taking the book gently from his arms and opening it to the first page. 

“I’ll help you learn how to read,” you say, finally clearing up your actions. “Isn’t that what you truly want?” 

Shoto doesn’t say anything, but you can tell from the tears that are about to fall from his eyes that this was indeed his genuine desire. It pained you. Reading was something many took for granted, but as you see the absolute joy on Shoto’s face as he brought his attention back to the book in excitement, you realize that this was a gift. 

You had the power to help this child beyond magic. And that was something you would use to your advantage, no matter the consequence. 

You just wished that you would have done a better job at keeping it lowkey. Because as you guide Shoto in reading the story he had picked for the night, You don’t notice the gap between his door and the wall, a result of Shoto not closing the door properly from his weakened state and as a result, a young girl was standing on the opposite side of the door, eyes widened in horror and disgust at the sight she was seeing. 

This wasn’t going to go well. 

The next few days, Shoto honestly felt like he was in bliss. 

No matter how horribly his family and servants treated him, nothing could shake the happiness he felt within his heart. Perhaps it was amplified by the fact his father had left the mansion for a few days to attend to his duties in the royal palace. Although he still had to face harsh treatments from his siblings and the other servants, at least the beatings became scarce. 

His family was much too cowardly to carry out the same severe beatings his father gave. Which meant that he could enjoy his time with you even more than he should. 

He had just finished his chores, ones that the servants were supposed to do, but in their vanity, they forced him to do it, going beyond their status as mere servants and dropping all their responsibilities as a child, sporting faux innocence whenever Shoto had tried to bring it up to his family.

But when he did, his father only got angry, beating him for lying about such matters, insinuating how he was insulting him because it was Enji who handpicked those servants, meaning an insult to them was an insult to his father.

So Shoto learned to take everything in a stride. To just do whatever the servants wanted him to do otherwise, he would get an even more severe beating from his father, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs. 

But that fear was a thing of the past, as at the moment, Shoto was happily skipping towards his room, excitedly thinking of what story his fairy godmother would teach him about today.

Truly, like her title, Shoto’s fairy godmother was a blessing sent from the heavens. She was kind, patient, and never berated Shoto for any mistake he made. She would never do that to him, she told him one day when he had asked. It was just too cruel. 

So this was what kindness really felt like, Shoto realized once the words slipped from her mouth. Growing up, Shoto was taught that his family’s actions were one of kindness, with insults such as ‘you should be grateful father was kind enough to keep you in this house when you should have been thrown out into the street already.’ being thrown at him left and right. 

He had always hated kindness because of that. His family’s kindness made him feel sick, made him want to curl up into a hole and die, yet his fairy godmother had shown him the light. His fairy godmother had shown him that kindness wasn’t supposed to make you feel horrible. It was supposed to make you happy. It was supposed to fill your heart with love and affection that you wanted to give back tenfold. 

What his family was doing to him wasn’t kindness at all.

Even more so when he stopped in front of his room, confused to hear a commotion inside. His gut feeling told him to run away, to hide, and never show himself again. But he couldn’t. His room was his safe haven, the only place where he could truly escape from his harsh reality, and if something ever happened to it, then Shoto wouldn’t know what to do.

He hastily opens the door only to feel his blood run cold. There standing in his room were his father, Enji, and his sister, Fuyumi. The moment they heard the door open, his sister turned to him, fake tears in her eyes, ones that Shoto knew everyone believed. Because in their eyes, Shoto’s sister was innocent, even though he knew that she was a devil in disguise.

“There he is, father!” Fuyumi exclaimed, pointing towards him accusingly. “The thief!”

Thief? Shoto wondered to himself. Why was he a thief? As far as he knew, he hadn’t stolen anything from anyone, much less his sister. Why would she accuse him of being a thief?

But he didn’t get the chance to ponder on it deeply, with his father turning towards him with deep rage lacing his eyes. Why was his father here in the first place? Wasn’t he supposed to stay in the palace for a few more days?

“You imbecile!” His father rages, stomping towards him. Shoto whimpers trying to back away, but his father was bigger and stronger than he could ever be and caught up to him quickly, holding him by the collar of his rags and throwing him across the room harshly. 

The impact causes immense pain to course through Shoto’s body, and he’s sure he could feel a rib or two of his break from the pressure. There was liquid running down his face, was that blood? Perhaps. He was in too much pain to process what was happening. 

“First, you kill your mother,” His father says, slowly making his way towards him, intimidation falling off him in waves. “Second, you act like an entitled brat to everyone in this house,” his words make Shoto flinch, knowing in his heart that none of his words were true. “And third,” Shoto’s father says as he finally stands in front of him, eyes glaring into his with severe malice. “You dare steal something extremely valuable from your sister? Have you no shame?”

With the little strength he could muster, Shoto looks up at his father, eyes weak and hazy. “Steal?” He whispers. “I didn’t steal anything….”

“Lies!” He hears his sister exclaim, sobbing hysterically. If Shoto didn’t know that his sister had two sides, he would have believed that she was genuinely upset. But that wasn’t the case. She was making things up. And this time, her act might actually cost his life. 

“You stole the storybooks I got from mother!” She accuses, holding her teddy bear tighter to her chest, hateful eyes glaring into his.

Storybooks? Shoto asks to himself, eyes darting around only to find the pile of storybooks on the ground— the same ones you read to him every night. A fire burns inside him, something that Shoto had never felt before. The audacity his sister had.

“Y-you,” he stutters, coughing from the pain. “You threw them away! I don’t steal them. I found them in the garbage!”

“That’s not true!” His sister fights back, and Shoto can see the way her eyes dart around in shock, not expecting him to actually speak up. “Why would I throw away something I received from mother?” 

Shoto was about to retort, but suddenly, a harsh sound rang through the room, and Shoto feels an excruciatingly painful sting on his cheek. His father had slapped him hard.

“How dare you,” he says, voice low, concealing the pure unadulterated rage that was about to burst forth. “How dare you take our kindness for granted, you son of a bitch.” 

“We clothed you. We gave you shelter and food, and this is how you repay us?” He spats, hands clenched into fists. “After everything you’ve done to our family, you continue to disgrace our family name? What a despicable child you are.” 

Pushing Shoto down to the floor, Enji raises his hand, ready to land a punch. “Shameful.” He lands a blow. “Disgusting.” He lands another. “Thief.” This time his father hits his broken ribs, causing Shoto to cry out in even more pain. “Murderer.”

Tears fall from Shoto’s eyes as the pain continues to flow through him, bursting through every punch. Was he really a murderer? Was he really that bad of a child? If so, why did they make him stay? Why couldn’t they put him out of his misery?

He wished his fairy godmother was here. She would probably make things better than they were now. She would make all the pain go away and then pat his head like she always did as she read him another story. He had never been as happy as he was whenever she read to him. But who knew that happiness came at an awful price?

Fairy Godmother, Shoto prayed in his mind as his father continued to beat him, letting out all his anger onto his body. Where are you? He was sure he looked like a mess, probably not even human anymore. But he couldn’t care less. He just wanted his fairy godmother by his side.

She said she would be there when he needed it most, didn’t she?

Suddenly the pain stops, and all Shoto feels is numb. He opens his eyes to the best ability, only to see his father stop midair with someone’s hand holding into his arm. He turns to the side, wincing in pain, yet it’s worth it because he finally sees the person he’s been waiting for.

His fairy godmother had finally appeared.

“Who are you?” His father shouts, screaming at the fairy. Her face is hardened, eyes glaring back at him with such hatred that it could honestly mirror his father’s. 

“None of your business,” she spats before forcefully throwing his father to the other side of the room, landing with a harsh thud.

She walks towards him, a menacing aura surrounding her, but just before she could approach Shoto’s father, his sister immediately runs to defend him, glaring with genuine tears in her eyes.

“Who are you?” She screams, shaking. “Why are you attacking father? Father has done nothing wrong! You should be attacking that… thing! He’s the bad one here.”

Her desperate cries leave a bitter hole in Shoto’s heart as he feels nothing but despair. He had always hoped that beneath all the harsh words of his family members, underneath all their cruel punishments and glaring eyes, they would still have room in their hearts to care for him, even just a little bit.

But no, they didn’t even see him as human. And that hurt way more than being called a murderer. 

“First of all,” you say, voice ice-cold, causing shivers to run down everyone’s spine. “Shoto isn’t a thing. He’s a human being. He’s your brother. What kind of person are you for not even acknowledging that?” 

“He killed my mother!” Shoto’s sister screams in protest, holding her ground. But her words only cause your gaze to harden as you grab her in the shoulders, and she shakes under your terrifying stare. 

“Listen here, young lady,” your voice booms through the room. “Shoto didn’t kill anyone. Your mother’s death was not his fault. Just because you can’t accept the fact that your mother is not on this earth anymore doesn’t mean you can treat your brother like he’s the scum of the earth.”

His sister falls silent after that, not knowing what else to say. She sniffles, and as gently as you can, you push her to the side. She was still a child, after all. No matter how vain she was, she was only a year or two older than Shoto. And you were not one to inflict pain on children or anyone for that matter. 

But this had gone too far. And you couldn’t find it within yourself to stand on the sidelines any longer. 

“And you,” if possible, your voice becomes even more ominous as you approach Enji, who sat on the ground, groaning. In his weakened state, he glares at you, having the audacity to continue spewing nonsense from his mouth. 

“Don’t you know who I am?” He threatens before you can continue to speak. “I am Todoroki Enji, the right-hand man of the Emperor of the Musutafu Empire! If his majesty were to find out of your crime, then he would—”

“—Punish you to the depths of hell.” You say, cutting him off. “I’m not a fool, Todoroki Enji. I know that the only reason you sheltered Shoto was so the Emperor wouldn’t find out your crimes. Otherwise, you would have thrown him onto the streets.”

Enji can feel his blood run cold, the truth hitting him like harsh waves the more they fall from your lips. 

“The Emperor is a kind and just man, and if he were to ever find out that you were treating your child this way, then he wouldn’t hesitate to sentence you to death. You know that more than anyone.”

Silence befalls the room as everyone soaks your words in. Shoto doesn’t understand. What were you trying to say?

“You know better than to punish Shoto for killing his mother. He didn’t do anything wrong. Todoroki Rei was already weak and frail after giving birth to the little young miss over there, yet you still insisted that she bear you a child, and when she refused, you threatened her.”

A gasp falls from his sister’s lips as the gravity of your words swirls up into a tornado in Shoto’s mind. Was this true? Was he truly not to blame for all of this?

“Lies,” Enji mutters under his breath, low enough for only you to hear. You stay silent, allowing the man to form his thoughts, yet that proves to be fatal as after a beat of silence passes, the man glares at you, taking a broken piece of the wall and swinging it your way. 

“Fairy Godmo—” Shoto calls, distressed and scared, but it proved to be for naught as in the blink of an eye, the heavy debris vanished, and you stood there, wand in hand, glaring once more at his father. 

“What?!” His father exclaims, finally taking his stand. “How were you able to do that? That should have killed you!”

You smile, grin sinister and dark, far from the gentle warmth it usually portrayed. Shoto was scared. His brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. But what he did know was that he didn’t like any of this one bit. 

“Magic,” is all you say, lifting your wand to cast another spell. “Magic is what made me do this to you. And magic is how I’ll make sure that you suffer the same hell Shoto has gone through.”

Horror fills Enji’s eyes as you step closer. But just as you’re about to release your spell, the door opens, revealing Shoto’s second brother, Natsuo, whose eyes widened at the sight in front of him. On instinct, he grabs the wooden sword he had brought with him from his training and lunges at you just as your magic bursts forth, tackling you to the ground. 

And a scream fills the air. 

Everyone looks, startled at the sight. When the chaos finally comes clear, to the family’s dread and your glee, your spell had managed to affect Enji, but not in the way that you had hoped. 

Instead of the core of his body, you had hit his eyes instead, a nasty scar forming over it, burning the flesh, and causing the man to tremble in pain. 

Well, at least he would know what Shoto felt when he got his scar. 

You stand up, dusting the dirt off your clothes as you make your way towards Shoto, ignoring his shell-shocked brother, who was staring at his father writhing in pain. You probably look like a mess at this point, totally different from how you usually appeared, but that was the least of your concerns. 

You had to ensure Shoto was alright. He had gone through so much after all. 

You couldn’t stand it. How could you stand watch when Shoto’s father was basically killing the poor child? Shoto who was pure and innocent. Shoto, whose only desire in life, was to read. He didn’t care for freedom or revenge. He just wanted to live normally. 

You couldn’t find it within yourself to let his family trample over those dreams any longer. 

You finally approach him, getting ready to kneel beside him and take him in your embrace so you could take the pain away. How much pain must he have gone through? You wonder. His body was battered and bruised, looking as if he was merely a shell of the child he once was. It was too cruel, and you could only hope that you’re magic would take even a bit of that pain away.

Because the child deserved to smile. 

But just as you’re about to reach out towards him, a bright light shines through the room, and from that light comes a figure, one that causes your whole being to momentarily freeze in shock and fear. 

Elder Yagi stood there in all his glory, robes and wings perfectly accentuating his features, truly presenting himself as the most powerful fairy in all the realm. His eyes were placed into a frown, and he stared directly at you, disappointment evident within him. 

You had screwed up, and now you were going to pay the price. 

“Young (Y/N),” His voice booms, loud and proud like how a fairy should be. “For breaking the Fairy Code by revealing the existence of magic to humans other than your godchild and for using said magic to unlawfully harm the human race, you are hereby sentenced to banishment from the fairy realm effective immediately.”

You stare at the elder you had come to know as a father, pleading with desperate eyes for him not to do this to you, but he pays no mind, waving his wand, causing binds to form and wrap around your body. 

“No, please!” You scream in vain, begging. “At least let me heal Shoto. Let me do something for him!”

“You’ve already done enough!” Elder Yagi screams. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so angry, and it scares you. Where was the kind fairy you had come to know? Why was he acting like this? “The Council will take over.”

And light flashes once more through the broken room, and just like that, you’re gone, leaving Shoto behind. 

Shoto blinks blearily, everything passing by in a blur. What had happened? What was happening? He wished he had the strength to get up and take a stand for himself, but he was quite literally beaten to a pulp. He can’t feel the strength in his arms anymore, and just that very thought scares him. 

The only thing that comforts him is the soothing lullaby of darkness, trancing him into a sleepy state, and before he knows it, Shoto passes out. 

Not knowing that from this point onwards, his life would change forever. 

The light shines through the curtains, and Shoto wakes up, blinking. 

He stretches his tired limbs and sits up, yawning. Why did he feel so tired? He’s never felt this weary before. 

He gets out of bed, heading towards his bathroom, looking at the mirror. When he does, however, he’s suddenly flashed with a vision of him, beaten into a pulp and unable to stand up, and he gasps, but that vision slowly fades away, and Shoto’s regular reflection comes back. 

What was that? Why did he look so… dead?

Surely that was a figment of his own imagination, right? Surely that was his mind playing tricks on him, right? Sure, his family did beat him from time to time, but they would never treat him that badly, right?

Shoto shivers, desperately shaking his thoughts away, as he slowly makes his way to the kitchen, hoping to snag some food while the servants aren’t looking. 

On his way, however, he bumps into his father, who glares at him. Shoto looks to the ground in shame, not knowing why this particular meeting made him more frightened than usual. He should be used to his father’s beatings by now, but why did he feel so scared?

“You,” his father says, and Shoto halts at the menacing tone in his voice. “Look at me.” Shoto does as he asks, and looks up to his father, eyes widening at the sight of a ghastly scar mirroring his own on his father’s face.

Did he always have that scar? 

His father stares at him as if he were examining him. For what reason, Shoto wasn’t quite sure, But it made him extremely uncomfortable, and he could only hope that his father would let him go soon. 

“You should be grateful I’m in a good mood today, brat,” is all his father says, glaring harshly at Shoto. He doesn’t say anything more than that, choosing to leave towards the direction of the dining room, leaving Shoto behind in the hallway. 

That was it? He asked himself. He wasn’t going to punch him? That was weird. But he paid it no mind. As his father said, it was his lucky day. 

Yet as Shoto continued to head towards the kitchen, there was an itching feeling scratching the back of his head, telling Shoto that there was something wrong. That something was missing. It felt like there was a missing piece to the puzzle, which confused Shoto because, as far as he knew, everything was completely normal. 

But he couldn’t ignore that thought. It nagged him throughout the day, telling him that this wasn’t right. 

The problem was, Shoto had no idea what exactly was wrong. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

[rngknsk]

The Aftermath

Chapter 1: Consciousness

Sanemi Shinazugawa/Reader (F)

You find yourself alive at the Butterfly Estate beside your closest friend after the final battle against Muzan Kibutsuji. You both are hurting over the loss of your comrades, so you must find a way to comfort each other.

**THIS SHORT STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE DEMON SLAYER MANGA. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED THE MANGA.**

Tags/warnings: Shared trauma, angst, survivors guilt, slight tw, comfort, slight fluff, reader is a Hashira

You can also read here on Ao3. Enjoy!

It’s not your time yet, young one, you still have a long journey ahead of you.

Be sure to live a life that will inspire others every day, please know that I will always love you.

We will always be here, watching you, waiting for you. We know you will do great, we are so proud of you, Y/N. Live on.

✾✾

Rain pattering gently against the window stirred you from your dreams. You blinked a few times as you peeled your eyelids apart, feeling the discomfort of the built-up eye-crusts that had grown as you slept for the past few days, to which you didn’t realize just yet. Your mouth felt dry as you slowly smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Your tongue felt swollen. Staring up at the dimly lit, wooden ceiling of the building that protected you from the rain outside, you took a few moments to try to recall where exactly you were. You remained in a numb physical state, or so it felt; you just needed to fully wake up. When you did, all of the memories came flooding back.

You tried to pull yourself upright in the bed you found yourself on, but immediately froze as the pain shocked and ran through every nerve in your body. You shut your eye and let out a sharp inhale through your gritted teeth that interrupted the silence of the room, trying to ease the pain. It was then that you realized your left eye was covered. Slowly, you brought your bandaged hand up to your face, pressing your scarred fingertips to your cheek. Your head had been wrapped several times with a bandage that ran at a slight angle across your face and over your eye.

It was a long, final battle between the demon slayer corps and the demons. The war that was fought for centuries, even millennia, had finally been won, and because you remembered your victory, you were able to slump peacefully back into the bed you laid upon. You laid for a few long moments, the ringing in your ears starting to fade away, allowing you to finally relish in the serene sounds of the rain against the roof.

“You’re finally awake,” came a familiar voice to your left. You hesitated for a moment, tears welling up in your uncovered eye, realizing who the voice belonged to.

You slowly turned your head towards the voice before gasping out his name, “Shinazugawa-san?”

He met your alarmed gaze with a kind smile that made your heart feel warm and fuzzy, and it just might have been enough to cure the aches among the rest of your worn-out body. You wanted to tear the blanket right off of your figure and throw yourself upon him in a triumphant embrace, you wanted to bury your face into his neck and cry, but neither of you were in any physical condition for that.

Your fellow Hashira lay sitting up in his bed, covered in bandages from head to torso, arms to shoulders. He was certainly in a rougher state than you, but for good reason. Sanemi Shinazugawa risked his life for the sake of humanity against the demons, and the most feared of all, Muzan Kibutsuji. He was ruthless in every battle he’s fought, but until he butted heads with Kibutsuji, you’d never seen him so merciless. At the end of the fight, you were sure he’d never pull through. Before you passed out from exhaustion and blood loss, you caught a glimpse of his bloodied figure sprawled across the ground. The last thing you saw was Kibutsuji crumbling away, and with that sight you allowed yourself to finally drift off, to that you imagined would be death.

But it wasn't.

Instead, you woke up next to the man whom you’ve come a long way to care so much about. He was such a tough nut to crack, but you and Sanemi had become so close, and you were sure that you’d meet him in the afterlife along with many others, but rather, you woke up just a few feet away from him at the Butterfly Estate. With that you were beyond thankful at another chance. This time you were sure that you’d tell him how you’d truly feel. Now, finally, you’ll be able to express to Sanemi how important he is to you without any worry of an unexpected end, unlike the last time you opened your heart to someone.

“I’m surprised, you slept longer than I,” he continued. “I was thinking for sure that I’d never wake up, and instead I woke up to you still napping.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment. You figured he was trying to make a lighthearted joke, so you thought you’d at least react somehow. “I’m sorry, I thought I wouldn’t make it either.”

“You’re a tough girl, I knew you’d be just fine, unlike the others,” he slightly turned his gaze to the floor, a solemn expression curtaining his face.

Before you could ask, three Kakushi rushed into the room that you and Sanemi were resting in, audible gasps coming from behind their masks.

“S-She’s awake!” one cried as he ran out of the room. The other two hurried to your side to take your vitals.

“Please sit back L/N-sama, don’t strain yourself!”

“Yes, your wounds are still fresh and healing, don’t try to move until the nurses arrive!”

✾✾

Hours later, your bandages were rewrapped after you enjoyed a nice bath with the help of the Kakushi. They had given you an extraordinary painkilling formula that had been invented by Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira and outstanding pharmaceutical expert, prior to her death. It was almost as if she created the formula in preparation of Kibutsuji’s attack. You had learned of the deaths of many, including the other remaining Hashira, with the exception of Sanemi and Giyuu Tomioka. You prayed to them as you sat in the bath after the Kakushi gave you some time to soak alone. You cried, for they weren’t as lucky as you to be able to know a world without demons, to know a world in which you could live free. However, each and every life that was lost during the battle against Muzan Kibutsuji belonged to those who fought valiantly and believed in the freedom that you were so fortunate to experience.

It was evening now, and the rain had finally stopped. The colorful pastel clouds were moving out of sight, and the falling sun gleamed brilliantly between the damp leaves of the trees it tried to hide behind. The dew drops sparkled against the rays before they each slid off of the leaves at their own individual pace. You slowly walked yourself outdoors to the engawa, which is where you found Sanemi. He was sitting by himself, a single leg hanging off of the engawa edge while his other was propped up in front of him. You’d never seen him so quiet and peaceful looking, even with his back towards you. You didn’t want to startle him or disrupt his alone time, but you wanted to talk to him. You wanted to know what he was thinking; what was going through that mind of his?

“Shinazugawa-san,” your voice gently hit the breeze, carrying your greeting to his ears. His head slightly perked up, but his gaze remained forward. He didn’t respond, but rather patted the wood floor beside him. After a moment of noticing his gesture, you stepped forward to slowly lower yourself next to him, gritting your teeth to suppress any signs of pain from your injuries. Once seated beside your friend, you glanced out of the side of your eye to see a single tear rolling down his cheek. The sight punctured your very soul. After all these years, training and fighting beside this battle-hardened man, you never thought you’d see him cry. Of course, he lost his younger brother during the battle, so it seemed he was taking this time to grieve; you were just surprised that he allowed you so close to be able to see him in such a state.

“Genya would have liked this view, don’t you think?” Sanemi broke the silence, fighting away the cracking of his voice. “When we were kids, we would always watch the sun set in the evening. It was one of the things that really helped us forget how shitty the world was for us back in those days. Seeing his bright, wide eyes and that happy expression was what pushed me to continue forward every time. But now…” he finally turned away, wiping his remaining tears with his sleeves. “I just wish he could be here to see it, to see the sun set in a world where we don’t have to fight for our lives anymore.”

You didn’t know how to respond. It seemed as if the best option would be to let him talk and express how he was feeling. It was, after all, better than him bottling things up, similar to what he’s done for his entire life. Genya wasn’t the only person that Sanemi has lost. You couldn’t forget what he had told you about, what had happened to his family, what he had to do to protect Genya way back then. He’s lost family, friends, others… And you did too, but this wasn’t about you. Right now, you had to comfort someone who was very dear to you.

“I wish he was here too,” you spoke, leaning yourself towards him to rest a hand upon his shoulder. You hoped your gesture would help ease him. “I wish… everyone was here. Our families, our friends,” you lowered your head for a moment in respect, saying a silent prayer for those who had been lost. When you looked back up you found that he had turned to your direction, and you locked eyes with him. His expression was absolutely pitiful. You could feel him tense up when you began to involuntarily squeeze his shoulder faintly. “But we must live on. Live on for them, or else their sacrifices would not be worth anything. Please, Shinazugawa-san, know this,” you rested your other hand upon his, which was laying atop his lap. “Every person that you have ever loved is always watching over you, and they are so proud of you, including myself,” you smiled warmly as you concluded your words of reassurance.

Trapped in each other’s watery eyes, there was a sure understanding between you both. You knew how he felt, and he knew that of you. Ever so gently, Sanemi leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. His hand reached up and rested behind your head, pressing you even closer to him. As you both sat there beneath the dimming purple skies, you quietly thanked whatever higher beings allowed you both to survive hell and finally find paradise. Stars began peeking through the pastel-colored atmosphere, and the air felt fresher than it ever had before. You both shared a smile.

“Thank you for everything, L/N-san.”

✾✾

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

Pt.2  to that one Maybank fic that I didn’t bother to title.

Part 1

The following days were normal, except you were lucky summer started and school wasn’t on your priority list anymore. You had asked your boss for more work hours but he already scheduled you for all the hours he could give you. Which meant either get a new hobby or hang out with your brothers friends.But, hanging out with the boys meant you had to hang with JJ, and after what you told him last, you didn’t think you could. Instead you tried to focus on the laundry at this very moment. One thing great to do during laundry was think, especially about the blond boy who had offered to be more than a one night stand with you and you said no, you stand by your decision. JJ was an irresponsible ass who just so happens to be the one guy that made your heart stop. You didn’t have time for this stupid boy drama. You saw the van from the guys drive up to the house, and the boys racing inside, like they just had an adrenaline rush. “What’s happened?” you ask as Kie was sharing around beers she had taken from the van. “You want one, Y/n?” She asked. You shake your head and hold up your glass of ice tea to show her. “Lamee.” Kie said, as she sat down on one of the chairs. JJ plopped down on the couch, knocking over the freshly folded clothes. “Dammit JJ!” you snapped. He gave you a smile, taking your glass and taking a sip from that. You glare at him. “What are you going to do about it, princess?” he said, putting down the glass. You playfully throw a towel at him. “Did you hear about the hurricane?” Pope asked you. You look up. “What?” you ask again. For someone who lived in a hurricane filled area, they scared the crap out of you. You look around the room at the others, John B already making comments about fishing tomorrow after the hurricane was over. You felt JJ put his hand on yours. “No worries, I’ll help lock the place up.” he said softly to be sure no one else heard. 

If we were all being honest you had to admit JJ was really trying to become less irresponsible, less dangerous to himself, and most importantly he tried to spend more time with you. Which you really liked. “Oh Fuck. My dad keeps calling me to get home.” Pope said, getting up from his seat, gulping down the last of his beer. He raced out of there. “Kie, are you staying for dinner?” You asked. John B set his beer down. “I have to help out my parents with storm prepping but the boys were going to come by for dinner.” She said, you nod. You adored Kie, she was the most beautiful girl in the cut. “Oh okay. Do you think there is going to be a lot of damage?” You ask them. “Don’t worry so much y/n” John B said, you just rolled your eyes at him as you were thinking how you really really wouldn’t mind JJ placing his hand on yours again. 

The boys had decided to gather in the chateau for the storm. God knows why their parents were okay with it but so be it. They were having beers in the living room when you walked in, after work. Clearly, it was a good time because there were already a dozen empty bottles on the table. You try to turn on the radio but the hurricane already disrupted the signal. “Guess you’ll have to sing for music.” Pope teased. You stick out your tongue at him. “Where’s JJ?” you ask. John B looked from Kie, back to you, and then looked back to Kie. “What?” you ask. They were hesitant. “JJ got called.” Kie said: “ by Sam.” We all knew what Sam meant, it wasn’t a specific girl, we just all got tired of remembering the girls JJ had been with. He would hook up with tourist girls, sometimes he’d just make out with them but mostly he had sex with them. Show them a good time on the outer banks. “Oh” you said, sitting down on the couch, taking Pope’s beer from the table, gulping it down. You thought back about that night, the night he said, he wanted something more with you and you told him no, then why were you so freaking heartbroken about this. ‘It’s my own fault. I told him off.” you sign. Kie put her hand on your shoulder. “What are you talking about?” she asked, you shake your head. “no no no. I want another beer.” You said, getting up and making your way to the fridge. John B followed you. “Are you okay, sis?” He asked. You were searching for the beer opener but John B took your beer from your hand and opened it with the edge of the table. Normally you would’ve scolded him for doing so but right now you could really use that beer. John B reached to you to hand it over. “I told him I thought he was irresponsible and stupid.” You tell your brother. John B raised his eyebrow. “He is irresponsible and stupid.” He was justifying. You roll your eyes at him. “ You are too good for him, Y/n.” He said: “I love JJ like he is my own brother but you're my little sister, and we both know the crap he does, how fucked up he is in the head.” he almost whispered that, not wanting Pope or Kie to overhear. You look at the ground, shaking your head. 

John B and Pope had left to surf in the storm, you thought they were being dumbasses, and Kie was smoking weed on the couch while watching a movie with you. It was already raining pretty hard, and wind was blowing through the trees. A figure opened the door, it was JJ he had been wearing a raincoat that he pulled over his head. “Hey dumbass. Can you roll me a couple?” Kie asked him. JJ ignored her and went straight to John B’s bedroom. You didn’t want to bother him, he must hate you right now… “What’s his problem?” Kie chuckled. I took it upon myself to roll Kie some joints, they weren’t as good as JJ’s but it would keep her occupied. You walked over to John B’s room and knocked on the door. “JJ? you want a blunt?” you ask him. There wasn’t a sound at first. But, then you heard him stumble to the door. “Yes.” he said, opening the door, and taking the joint from your hand, he went to the living room, taking your place next to Kie on the couch. “How’s my favorite girl?” JJ asked no one in particular. “Very well after Y/n rolled me some good ones.” Kie answered, after a long silence, deciding JJ meant her. He looked up at you, as you were leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed. “They are out surfing. Why didn’t you go with them?” you ask him. JJ chuckled. “ I don’t have a death wish.” he said, you raise an eyebrow at him. You didn’t want to go to bed when John B and Pope were still out in the storm, but you didn’t exactly jump at the chance to third wheel JJ and Kie. You still opted for a third option, a long warm shower. 

You were in bed, reading your book as the sounds of trash cans being knocked over, and the wind ravaging the yard gave you the creeps. The lights popped out, and you let out a groan. You stare at the ceiling, hoping the lights would magically turn back on. After a couple of minutes you decide to take out your emergency flashlight. You try to focus back on your book. A sudden crack of the window, and a huge branch on your cupboard that was below the window scared the crap out of you. In surprise you let out a loud scream. Someone quickly came to check on you, as you heard the loud footsteps in the hall. You get up from the bed to see what the damage was. When the door opened you pointed the flashlight towards the figure standing there, it was JJ. “Are you okay?” he asked. You nod, getting down on your knees, dropping the flashlight on the ground. “The wind just blew a branch into the room.”  You said, picking up glass shards. “Leave it before you get a cut.” he said, stepping close to you. “I should’ve nailed the window shut.” JJ blamed himself. There wasn’t a lot of money to storm prep so we just used scraps of wood to barricade the big windows, and we’d take a chance with the smaller ones. “Stop. It is just a window.” you tell him, touching his arm. JJ moves to the window, taking the branch and pushing it back out the window. You close up the curtain to avoid rain or too much window coming in. “You should sleep.” he told you. He was about to leave but you grabbed his arm. “Will you stay with me?” you ask him. You couldn’t tell the expression on his face, because it was dark and you didn’t want to shine the flashlight right into his face. “Uh yeah sure.” he said, he followed you to the bed. It was a tight space for the two of you but you’d done it before, cozying up to him in your twin bed was something you’d done for years. You weren’t comfortable so you tried to move your body closer to his, but you heard him hiss under his breath. “Oh my god, did I hurt you?” you said, turning the flashlight on to see what was happening. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled. You shine it to his ribcage, lifting his shirt before he could stop you. “JJ!” you let out a gasp as there was a nasty bruise from his left upper side to the lower side. “I thought you were seeing Sam.” you said, it almost sounded like an apology, an apology for the bad things you thought. “I was helping my dad storm prep.” he said, you get up from the bed, rummaging through your drawers. “Found it.” you said mostly to yourself, as you made your way back to bed. You told him to keep his shirt up as you put the flashlight on the pillow. You put some gel on your index and middle finger and carefully smear it on the bruise. “I’m sorry, princess.” he said, you look up to be met by his blue eyes. “I’m the one who is sorry J '' you said softly. He wanted to say something but you didn’t let him. “I didn’t mean what I sai-' You started but he interrupted you. “Yes you did! I am though.” he said, not looking you in the eye anymore. He lowered his shirt again. “It wasn’t fair. You have your reasons.” you tell him. He nods. “So do you. I understand that I am much to handle.” he chuckled. You reach for his cheek. “I was wrong because I thought you’d be another thing for me to take responsibility for. But, you are not. You make me feel like I don’t have a care in the world.” you tell him excitedly. “If I hadn't ruined what was between us. If I would’ve allowed myself to lov-” he cut you off with a kiss. It was slow at first, like he just wanted to shut you up, then he moved his tongue inside your mouth, teasingly playing with yours. He moved his hands to the back of your neck pulling you closer to him. You don’t remember how long it took for him to pull away. But, he did. He looked you in the eyes, and you thought he was going to tell you to leave or something but he didn’t. Instead, he started kissing you again.

You woke up the next morning, and JJ wasn’t there, the thought plagued you that it was all a dream. However, the hickeys covering your chest and collarbone begged something different. Quickly you jumped out of bed and went in search of some coffee in your kitchen. John B and JJ were already sitting in the kitchen eating eggs. You sit down next to JJ, across from John B, and Pope was sitting at the head of the table. Kie still knackered on the couch. Your brother pushes a clean plate to your side and you reach for the bread sack, assembling your breakfast. “JJ I am going to kill you.” John B says after he looked at you. JJ had the stupidest smirk on his face, and Pope’s eyes went wide. You completely forgot the top you were wearing concealed very little of the hickeys JJ had given you. “Gotta keep my princess happy.” He said, shrugging his shoulders, focusing on his breakfast. You smack him against his arm for his outrageous comment. You just knew this boiled your brother's blood, you look at Pope with a questioning look. He was just having a hard time not laughing. “JJ what the fuck.” you hiss at him. “Oh come on. You loved every minute of it.” he murmured, moving his hand to your thigh squeezing it. “You better move that hand, Maybank.” John B said with an angry stare.

[mcbride]

TWD S11 Predictions - Carol/Daryl focused

disclaimer: i don't know anything. i have no sources. just my predictions, thoughts and wishful thinking based on filming tracking, intuition, some theories, images from the teaser/promo trailers and more wishful thinking!

solely focused on Carol and Daryl's storylines, cause apparently that's all my heart cares about anymore! as a wise person once said (Espy, my positive fairy! if you're reading this, ilysm), our baes need to be dealing with their own issues and demons, separately, while getting some closure with other people, so they can finally move forward together.

so i don't expect many actual caryl scenes in part 1 of s11, but i fully expect them to keep each other in mind, and even make some decisions based on a future they wanna have together even before they resolve the awkward tension between them atm.

imo the perfect caryl arc in 11a would include a lot of emotional encounters, drama, disappearances, fake deaths, torture, tragedy, dog, closure and make up and make out... after the jump....

it appears that Carol and Daryl will be involved in different missions at the start of the season - he will head out with Maggie's group to search for food when they are caught up in a storm and have to hide out in the subway tunnels; while i presume she stays back to defend and help clean up ASZ or goes on her own mission with Kelly and Magna.

Carol, Kelly and Magna end up stumbling upon Connie's journal, a symbol of hope for all of them. they might even decide to search the area for any more signs of Connie. i really want Carol herself to find Connie and bring her back to Kelly. and not cause Carol is a hero who saved Connie, nooooooo cause Connie can save her own self. she is strong, not a damsel in distress. she went through hell but she made it back. i think we will see Connie and what she has been through, however, i don't believe she will reunite with anyone from team family before the MSF (11x08) or even MSP (11x09). no idea who she and Virgil are running from in the trailer - it could either be a whisperer, a stray reaper or just some crazy random motherf*cker they run into.

while Maggie's group are in the tunnels, dog runs off and Daryl goes to search for him, never making it back to the group for some reason. after the storm is over, Maggie and the group search for Daryl but not having been able to find him (?) they just assume he is gone, possibly dead? i don't know why Maggie would give up so easily searching for family, but it seems like her current MO to just leave people behind.

along the way, Carol and Magna will find common ground and actually become besties cause she desperately needs some female friends. please and thank you. they can bond over the hope to find Connie alive and well, or the fact, both of them are currently in a very awkward position with their boos while having no idea where the heck they are.

Daryl probably got separated from the group while escaping a small herd in the tunnels (cue to Daryl's face covered in blood in the woods) and when he finally finds dog, he comes face to face with a masked reaper formerly known to him as Leah. he is shocked to learn she's part of the group that targeted Maggie. Leah is probably bitter Daryl chose his family instead of her a few years ago cause she has no idea he came back for her... so she and her friends take (willingly or not!) Daryl prisoner... possibly torture him and play mind games to gather information on team family.

in the sdcc trailer, there are some very heartbreaking scenes with Carol (and Aaron?), i cannot wait for it. i know it's gonna make me cry so hard and i've been needing Carol/Aaron friendship for years. at the same time, i expect Carol to also have some badass fighting scenes with her daughter-in-law and new bestie, Lydia, and tia Rosita! YES girl power!! people need Carol and she's totally there for them.

Aaron seems to be in a bad place emotionally (possibly something happened to Gracie, or just the fact they lost a lot of people in the whisperers war!) and Carol will be there to urge him not to make the same mistakes she did. hopefully, these 2 can join forces and come up with a masterplan to defeat the reapers.

Daryl being Daryl who always wants to save people even from themselves, tries to convince Leah to change sides, join team family, or convince her own family to leave his family alone. he's unsuccessful and when Daryl tries to escape, setting the whole place on fire and killing a few men on his way out of the reapers compound, Leah threatens to harm dog. cause why not? she obvi loves nothing or no one! they take Daryl back to another cell, and dog manages to escape.

meanwhile, Maggie's group returns to ASZ, where they tell Carol they believe Daryl is lost or dead. please give me all the angst that comes with Carol thinking she may have lost Daryl forever! she has been pretty committed to the group and rebuilding their home, but i believe her first instinct will be to run, to leave... TO FIND DARYL!!! cause no way in hell would Carol just accept he's gone unless she sees it with her own eyes.

WELL in true 'if you can't beat them, then join them' fashion, after a few brainwashing sessions with Leah, Daryl tells her all about the note (FIND ME) he left for her at the cabin, how he knows he made the wrong decision then, declares his loyalty to her and joins the reapers...

dog arrives at ASZ just as Carol is about to leave to search for Daryl. good boy always comes back home to mama and together they will find and save dada. (bear with me! from now on i'll be totally running wild with my wishful thinking... it will pretty much read like some fanfic plot!)

Daryl keeps trying to fit in with the reapers group, but he's only taking a page from Carol's undercover book - fake it till you make it + destroy them from the inside. what he doesn't know is that Leah and her new/old bf (Pope!?) have been planning an attack on ASZ behind his back. they simply let him know, this is his chance to prove himself to the reapers. he has to go along with the plan (or DIE!), but he hopes to be Alexandrians' inside man, helping them protect their family at all costs (ironically, exactly what Negan did when he joined the whisperers and they attacked Hilltop... just not the same motivation! i guess Carol wasn't so wrong about Negan after all!)

at night, Daryl puts on his reaper costume and they head to ASZ. reapers learned the location of the place by tracking dog. the plan was much bigger and more explosive than Daryl expected, the reapers destroy a big part of ASZ brand new rebuilt wall and set fire to a bunch of houses and the mill before Daryl can even react.

Alexandrians and reapers fight as Daryl sneaks out to lead the kids to safety. he finds Maggie, asks for Carol, and is glad she is out there looking for him, relatively safe, rather than around to fight and watch ASZ fall.

while out looking for Daryl, Carol hears the explosions, sees the fire and she and dog return to ASZ as fast as they can. they are greeted by Leah at what used to be front gate...

i realize this is getting extremely long, so i'll just say that i absolutely don't want Carol to have anything to do with Leah's possible imminent death. i don't want that guilt on her conscience, and i don't want her to feel like Leah is just another person she took from Daryl (like Connie!). i don't even want Leah to die! unless she's trying to hurt or kill Daryl.

somehow i think it would be a good twist, if for a quick second Carol thought Daryl had betrayed them and joined the reapers for Leah. of course, Carol knows better. SHE KNOWS DARYL. he would never, but for a brief panicked moment, it would be good to see her react to that. i can only imagine the pain in her eyes. but she also trusts Daryl with her life.

we have no idea what Leah knows about Carol, but i'd like the pocketknife Daryl regifted to come back. how would Leah react? likely angry to see another woman with something that was hers. i want to believe Daryl would never tell Leah anything about Carol because she is just too important and too personal to share. but maybe Leah can tell there was someone else !? who knows.

i just want it to be completely clear Daryl is done with that part of his past. Daryl is not alone and lost in the woods anymore without his brother Rick and his bestie Carol. ever since Carol brought him back, Daryl has acted like he knows exactly what he wants and he's done playing games. and what he wants is not Leah or Connie. he wants for ALL his family to be safe and happy, and he wants to run away with Carol and see the world. AND i want both Carol and Daryl to feel free to be free and live freely.

as for the make up and make out part... (that's saved for 11b, hopefully!)

team family won, most of the reapers are dead, except for Leah. Daryl (with Carol's nod of approval!) decides to spare her, gives her some supplies and tells her to get lost. at the same time, Eugene arrives with the troopers from CommonWealth to help with the whisperer war. WHOOPS. 2 wars, 2 late, bruh! but the group leaves to join the good people at CW.

Carol and Daryl have a very long conversation about everything that happened and what they have been feeling. Daryl telling her exactly why he was so mad at her (she kept leaving, can't commit!), her actions (almost getting herself killed!) since Henry's death and how he needs her in his life. no matter how she sees herself or whether she thinks she's worthy or not, he just wants her to be there next to him for whatever is to come.

plus Carol realizing she needed to get closer and let people in without fear, not give up hope and actually fight for a better future for herself. and finally, admitting to Daryl that it was horrible to think he might've been gone forever, promising to never make him feel the way she felt. basically, a promise to never ever leave him again (cue to making out!)

[imagine-lcorp]

Between Two Lungs (One Shot)

A/N: Hello dears, so here it is the infamous fic I’ve been writing. I really hope this fullfils my dream of crushing your hearts once again and that you have a fun time agonizing over this final choice. Because yes, I’ve made this a multiending fic...As always, remember to tell me what you think, is it something you want me to keep doing for other fics? Also, how did you feel after this? pls let me know. Also i made this PLAYLIST if you want to add some feeling to this while reading... Enjoy! 

Lena Luthor x R/Hanahaki AU//Word Count: 3,464

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

It is possible to die of a broken heart.

You look it up somewhere in the internet. It's similar to a heart attack, caused by a very strong and emotionally stressful event. The death of a loved one, a breakup, a betrayal. It's treatable and rarely fatal. Following the recommendations of your doctor, you can make a full recovery within weeks. Still, it is possible to die of it.

You don't have a broken heart. You wish you had one. Because love, the one only you feel, is growing inside of you and it is much worse than that.

Thankfully, compared to others your condition it's not as painful as it could be.

You have heard about people with roses inside them, how their thorns puncture their pharynges with every breath they take. Others don't get flowers. They get apple or cherry trees with their fruits pouring juice inside their lungs and out of their mouths. Some others have pines and spruces, with cones constricting their organs and rib-cages until they bones break.

So you look at the small white petal that lays in your hand and think that, in your case, it is something almost magnanimous.

Plumerias have no thorns and, even though some can be a bit thick, their branches are soft enough to bend around your heart and lungs without much trouble. Their petals, small and delicate, rise easily up your throat without lacerating it in a coughing fit.

Maybe, you want to think in a very optimist way, if you can keep that love from growing further, you won't have to suffer through it.

Maybe.

So you prescribe for your own heart solitude and abstinence.

The first one is the easiest.

You tell your friends you are sick and need some time to recover. Most of them get worried as they don't know yet what illness has fallen upon you in these troublesome times.

"You know, If you wanted, I could get you a full medical examination." Alex offers with a raised eyebrow, giving you the look of the always concerned big sister.

"Thanks, but it's alright." You assure them with a smile. "I was thinking about spending some time at home anyway."

After a lot of questions you manage to dodge in the end, they decide there's no reason to doubt your intentions. So they leave you to your own devices.

Homemade remedies, or herbicides depending on who you ask, seem to help as you spend your days at home. Drinking some salt water with lemon in the morning, or a couple of vinegar tablespoons in a cup of tea before going to bed. They don't taste that bad once you get used to the flavor and these help you ease the new bitterness that you taste in the back of your throat.

The second is a bit harder.

You have to stop yourself from dreaming her, thinking her, missing her.

She has texted you a few times already, wanting to know how you're doing and offering her help if you don't feel like you're doing okay on your own. You handle it as best as you can. You text back, consistently enough and with measured time and words, so you don't raise any red flags. When you don't seem to answer she calls, but just thinking about hearing her voice makes your chest hurt a little.

You never answer. She doesn't try to call again. You spit your first handful of flowers after that.

It's all fine, you lie to yourself, at least until the pain reaches your insides and white petals come out of you mouth dappled in red.

"You need to tell her." Kara says softly as she pats your back after another coughing fit.

You cover your mouth with your hand, making sure there are no signs of blood or petals as you tight it into a fist. "Tell who what?"

"Tell Lena about the flowers." She sighs when she fells you freeze under her touch. "Sorry. Alex told me if I could get a clear shot at your lungs maybe we could figure out how to help. I didn't expect it to be... well, flowers."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to you but you are still amazed at how easy it is to forget Kara has x-ray vision when she's not wearing her suit. With or without it, she's still the same caring and protective person you have always known. It also explains why she has been so adamant about having lunch together, at least once a week, after your failed attempt at convincing her you were doing well after a month alone. You couldn't expect less from your best friend, you remind yourself as you catch your breath.

"How do you know it's her?" The taste is bitter as you swallow the rest of blood and petals in your mouth.

"It's plumerias, isn't it?" She rubs your back again as you regain you posture. "They are her favorites."

There are a couple of red tainted petals in your palm when you open your hand. "Yeah, they are."  

Kara looks at you and you see something in her you don't think you have ever seen before in the Girl of Steel. But you recognize it, because you feel the same way. Hopeless. Helpless. Powerless.

"(Y/N)." She says like she's already grieving. "It's spreading fast."

The easiest way to get ride of the disease is by removing its seed from your heart, the doctor says. No more than an hour in the operating room and your respiratory system would be as good as new. Common symptoms after the surgery can include aches between your shoulder blades, ribs, back of the neck or chest, weakness and hoarseness in your voice, and, in general, some memory loss and the inability to experiment intense or deep affection towards another person. Most of these stop shortly after you recover, except for the last one.

More experimental methods have been developed with the help of biotherapy. Experts in Japan are said to have reduced the spread of the flowers with other plants like kudzu or barberry, while someone in Europe has been using thrips to eat the plant and control its growth. It's like using maggots to eat your wounds, the doctor explains more enthusiastic than you feel.

You could, of course, try the simplest of things and confess your love.

It only takes to be loved in return for you to heal before any permanent damage is done. The seed that grows in your heart will almost instantly wither, the cough will purge the last of the flowers out of your lungs, and your recovery will last only a couple of weeks. You will breathe again.

But, if your love goes unrequited, you'll reach your fatal end in a matter of days. Doctors will give you a double dose of morphine or induce a coma trying to ease your pain. Flowers, fruits and cones bloom, branches and thorns grow. You convulse and gasp until your last breath when the biggest flowers come out of your mouth. All until your thorax is transformed, beautifully and violently, into a garden of flesh and blood.

Anyone who has seen it happen will tell you, how shocking it is to witness such a thing.

Whatever the case, this only serves to confirm what you already know. You can't be optimistic anymore.

You're dying and you will die, soon with flowers in your lungs or after many years with a loveless heart. Because this life and death of yours, you think, cannot be, shall not be, decided by a coin in the air.

And yet.

"It's flowers...in my lungs." You can almost tell which direction the flower stalks take inside your chest as the words form in your mouth.

"Oh." Lena says as she starts to fidget with her hands.

The anger, that had been growing inside her after weeks of vague replies and evasions, vanishes in her eyes the moment she understands what you're going through.

"Have you...talked to the other person?"

"No, not really. Not yet." You try not to lose your composure as you feel the flowers threatening to rise up your throat.  

"Will you?" She asks.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity pull your already heavy heart down. "It's plumerias."

"Plumerias?" You can see the moment it dawns on Lena, and the look she gives you makes you wish again you could die of a broken heart instead.

"Miss Luthor, I'm sorry but the board meeting will start shortly."    

Jess opens the door a second later and it gives you time to look at the other side and place your hand in your chest. As if that could possibly stop your heart and lungs from collapsing.

"Thank you, Jess. I'll be there." Lena dismisses her with a nod and looks again at you.

She doesn't say anything else and you feel a coughing fit building in your lungs. Stronger than you have ever felt it.

"(Y/N)!" She leaves her chair, running towards you.

You cover your mouth as your chest feels like a boxer is using it as a punching bag. I doesn't feel like it will end quick and when it finally does the only thing that remains is pain.

You thank the chair that holds you in place as you catch your breath.  

"I'm fine. It's fine." You don't want her to see it, but she manages to catch a glimpse of the bloody petals that cover your palm once you recover.

"No, it's not, (Y/N). You're dying and I-"

"It's not your fault." You cut her off, shaking your head and taking a little napkin from you pocket to clean yourself as best as you can.

The death, the break, the betrayal. You feel it all as worry and pity finally merge in her eyes. There's also guilt when she looks at you. It is there along with everything else she doesn't feel for you. So you don't want an apology, especially not from her, especially not like this.  

"You're my friend and I just- I wanted you to know. I got my surgery already programmed."

"Surgery?" You watch her draw back a bit in surprise.

"I'll be fine." You lie again.

"(Y/N), I-"                            

"Miss Luthor, the board-"

"I know!" Lena snaps and, when she realizes the magnitude of her reaction, she retracts, taking a deep breath for herself before answering. "Sorry, yes. Do you think you could hold it for a minute?"

"You should go." You say with a small voice before any of them can say more. "The meeting, sounds important."

"(Y/N)..." The way she pronounces your name makes you want to be over with this already. You just can't stand it anymore.

"We'll talk later." You say. "We got time."

She wants to argue, you know, but you won't, can't, do it. Still, you pull a little smile for her.

"We'll talk later." She replies with a nod.

There will be time for another conversation. There will be time. There will be time. There will be time. You repeat it like a mantra to help you carry yourself out of her office.

Everything else after that passes like a blur.

You know you reach the front door of the building, with the voice of the receptionist behind your back offering to call for help. You stumble on the sidewalk trying to hold onto light poles and signposts to keep yourself from falling. You clutch your hand in your chest as the pain reaches its peak. Flowers come pouring out of your mouth and you gasp for air as you finally fall.

You're delirious by the time you land on the hospital bed.

Many faces come and go then, doctors, nurses, friends, ghosts, both the living and the death. The only constants are your dying gasps and the painful beating of your heart until the morphine does its work. It helps you see, with certain clarity the only face that can make a difference.

"You listen to me, alright? I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier." You open your heavy lids at the sound of her voice, and you see those emerald eyes for what could be the last time. "I love you, (Y/N), please, I love you."

You hear her words, or you don't, or it is simply to late to care anymore. The coin is in the air and there's no more time.

***

☞ You let yourself drift into darkness as the plumerias are pulled to a better light. The garden is gone and what is left behind is only an empty carcass. You cannot stand the emptiness and your heart does what it should have done from the beginning. It breaks and breaks and breaks...

***

☞ Your mind tries to grasp her words but you find your heart too weak to keep a hold of them. So you let them pass through like a shadow. No need for them anymore as the anesthesia and the scalpel give you a break from all this suffering. There will be no flowers and it is, truly, not as bad as it could be...

***

☞ Her words suddenly hit you in their full meaning and your mind does its best to keep and save them into your heart. Even through branches and petals, it has the effect of an echo chamber, repeating those words like a healing prayer. I love you. I love you. I love you...

[doctoranon]

No Magic In The World.

Written for the Maribat? Get In! Civil war.

This is a direct sequel to I Must Be Dreaming so it would be best to read that. Though it works easily enough by itself.

TW: Mentions of sex, alcohol, driving under the influence and vague suicidal thoughts.

Waking up in another unfamiliar bed, Jason's head was banging with a raging hangover. Rolling over and out the bed he stumbled to the sink in the hotel bathroom to retch. This was becoming a bit of a regular occurrence. But the welcome oblivion of no dreams kept his heart from breaking over and over again every time he woke up and realised Marinette wasn’t going to be laying in the bed next to him. Dreams of her were a sweet torture, and he’d quickly decided no dreams of her were worth the moment of bliss he felt before reality intruded upon his waking mind.

Leaning over the sink he felt rather than saw as two slender arms held him from behind, and for a moment he dreamed of familiar arms and the smell of apple blossoms, before roughly pushing the woman away.

“What the fuck are you still doing here for?” he sneered, looking at her over his shoulder in the mirror. He took the woman in, icy blue eyes and a dark brunette. Looks like his drunken ass couldn’t even get that right. Then again, no one would ever come close to Marinette's fierce beauty.

The woman stuttered in confusion at him. Bless. She thought this was more than a drunken tumble and a subpar substitute. Holding a hand to his banging head he scoffed at ther, pointing at the door. “I don’t give a shit. Fuck. Off.” 

He knew, somewhere in his mind, that he was treating the poor woman awfully. Unfortunately his self disgust at touching another woman but her had him taking it out on her. Flashes of the night before came to mind, and mixed with his already nauseous stomach he threw up what little he had left in his system.

Hearing sobs from the other room and a slam of the door he grimaced. Not his most shining hour but he didn’t give a fuck right now. He’d cheated on Mari, fuck the fact she was- shaking the word from his head he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He was in a sorry state. Pale skin, dark red rimmed eyes. He’d even lost some muscle mass and weight. He was a shadow of his former self. Splashing some cold water on his face, he moved to the other room, dressing as he found articles of his clothing.

Sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, one which he refused to look at, he took out a cigarette, lit it and took a drag. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten hammered and fucked his feelings away with a poor substitute and it disgusted him. How could he ever take someone else into his bed, drunk or not? He physically shuddered as another bout of nausea rolled through his stomach. It always left him feeling unclean. Unworthy. 

He groaned when the silence of the hotel room was broken by the ringing of his phone. He took it in his free hand and scoffed at the displayed name.

Incoming call. Dickhead.

Rejecting the call and throwing it back on the bedside table, he finished his cigarette before lighting a second one straight away. Seeing a mostly empty bottle of whiskey on the dresser he staggered over and picked up a packet of painkillers and proceeded to wash a few down with what was left, relishing the burn at the back of his throat. 

Looking around for another bottle he scoffed at the litter of empty ones. Not one had any left in it. Looked like he was making a trip to the liquor store very soon in his future. 

In the background his phone had started ringing again, be he wasn’t up for his sympathetic older brother to offer a shoulder to cry on. He was fucking done sitting on his ass and crying about it. There was nothing he could do to change it.

He had begged Tikki and Plagg. Gotten down on his fucking knees and begged them. He would never force them- no, Marinette would never forgive him if he forced her beloved Kwamii to act against their will. But it had hurt that they weren’t willing to save her.

He had accused them of all sorts, that they didn’t actually care about her. That they had never loved her. At one point he had even pointed his gun at Plagg before he had destroyed it. He had broken down again in that moment, curing fetal on the floor as he wept for his love to come back. The kwamii had joined him, sharing his grief. But still, ultimately, swore off letting him make the wish. The had told him there was no magic in the world that could bring her back. He had replied she was all the magic in his world.

Now he was travelling, looking for someone, for something, that could bring her back. He wouldn’t believe the Kwamii until he had exhausted every option available to him. Except the pits. He refused to use the pits; to owe Talia something. He would never taint Marinette like that anyway. She was all things good and beautiful and pure in his life, he would never make her like him.

Hearing his phone start ringing again for the umpteenth time, he picked it up and answered.

“What the fuck is so important? Huh?” he answered, face twisting in a rage that was aimed at himself for his actions both last night and this morning. “Six missed calls, Dick. Didn’t you get the memo? I didn't want to fucking talk to you when I rejected the first fucking one!”

The silence that greeted him down the line had his stomach twist in guilt. He knew Dick was only worried for him. Heck even the Demon Spawn had shown worry for him and treated him like fucking glass. It was one of the reasons he had to get the fuck out of the manor. But even then, he couldn’t return to his and Maris' apartment. She was everywhere, in the fabric swatches on the table to the post it notes on the fridge. Their bedding smelled like her and her perfume lingered in the air. It repulsed him.

Everything about the place repulsed him. It was a home made for two. One set of his and another set of hers. Other things that were theirs. Except there was no theirs anymore. It had taken one look in her office room, to the zipped up garment bag he knew held her wedding dress for him to grab his bikes keys and get the fuck out of dodge. At the time he’d simply not wanted to be in that apartment. Ten minutes later he was on the road out of Gotham and no plans of returning any time soon.

“Jay-” he could practically hear his brother trying to figure out what to say to him, could easily imagine his shoulders would be hunched and tense as he deliberated. It was something he did when planning his next move in the field. Mentally he snorted. Did that equate him with a battle or an enemy? Either sounded right to him to be fair.

“Are you going to tell me where you are today?”

“I couldn’t tell you even if I felt like it.”

“Jay please.” he could hear the frustration in the acrobats voice, but he couldn’t really give a damn. “Come home.”

“Home, Dick?” he questioned, licking his chapped lips and picking up his bikes keys. He didn’t give a shit if he was over the limit. Death would reunite him with Marinette, and if he made it to his destination the liquor would help with that too. “I have no home anymore. She was home.”

“Then tell me where you are, Little wing! Please!” he closed his eyes shut tightly, gritting his teeth together. He hated that his family was hurting. But he couldn’t give up. He had to find a way to bring her back.

There had to be some magic somewhere that would give her back to him. He’d seen it happen for everyone else, so why couldn’t it happen for him? For them? Why couldn’t they have this one piece of happiness? Just this once?

“I can’t do that, Dick. You’ll try and stop me, bring me back to Gotham.” He paused as he opened his eyes and swung his leg over the bike. “I won't stop looking for a way to bring her back to me until I know I’ve exhausted all possibilities. Because I owe her that much. And if I die trying, well I owe her that too.” he told him, smirking sardonically.

“That’s not true, Jay! Marinette wouldn’t ever want you to do this. Please, Jason, this is killing you.” Dick begged him down the phone. “Come home. We can still search from here, but please, come back, be with your family.”

Putting his keys into the bike and revving the engine he grinned dryly. “Sorry, Dickie bird. Not today.” he hung up then, turning the phone off and pocketing it. Kicking up the bike stand he took off, he was sure he remembered the nearest booze shop was only 5 minutes away, and even that was five minutes too long.

The conversation had flared up the pain in his chest and it needed numbing again. Sweet oblivion here he came. 

[thero0ks]

My Most Treasured Items

Reiner receives a letter from someone in his past.

No happy ending, just angst.

Season Four spoilers

Trigger Warnings: Detailed description of death/corpses, brief discussion of childhood abuse

The detour had never been in the battle plan. Hanji and Levi would probably be pissed if they knew she’d taken an alternate route. She had studied the map for weeks to know the layout of the city, so that this detour would only add a couple seconds to her time. That’s why she took off a few moments earlier than everyone else. Her feet landed in the alleyway. Peeking her head out to check the Main Street she found it was empty. Rushing to the lone mailbox she pulled out the crisp white envelope. Having taken great care to avoid any wrinkles in the delicate paper she gave the envelope a soft kiss before placing it in the mailbox.

Four years later she would be able to speak her peace. Her shoulders relaxed. A weight lifting off her as she took off in the air once more to rendezvous with the rest of the squad.

* **

They sat around the table discussing Zeke’s betrayal. Reiner proposed an immediate counter attack. They left the meeting agreeing to think on the matter.

Entering his own barracks he found a letter placed on his bedside table. The flowing script pulled at something in his memory. Amber eyes flickered over to the name of the sender and his heart stopped. Y/N L/N.

His legs gave way as he sat on the edge of the bed tearing open the letter. Another Devil from his past had come back to haunt him.

To my beloved Reiner,

What would I do if I had 13 years to live? I’ve thought about the question for four years now, and I still don’t have an answer. By my calculations you only have a year, maybe two left?

I know your love for me was forced, and I truly apologize for the turmoil I caused you. A devil like me is hard to love for someone like you. The bitter truth that you were always enough for me, but I was only another sin that stained your hands is a hard thing to bear. I guess I have a knack for loving the wrong people. Perhaps that’s my punishment for the sins of my ancestors? Isn’t that what you Marleyans say?

You said a lot of things four years ago, but I didn’t get to say a word. I just watched you leave, and dealt with the aftermath of all my friends dying. For the record, I never wanted any of this. I think all this death is senseless, and I meant what I always said that this world could use more love.

I guess this world doesn’t have a place for dreamers.

I wanted to hate you for choosing them over us, but I realize that’s your home. It's easy to hate something you hold no attachment to. Loyalty is a strong trait, and it’s something I wanted to curse you for. I looked at you leaving me as a betrayal, but how can you betray something or someone you were never loyal to in the first place?

I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. I forgive you for not choosing me, but I also ask that you forgive me for not choosing you anymore either. There is not a decision either one of us could change that would have put us on a different path. For both of our sakes I wish to allow you a glimpse into my dreams.

I choose to believe in a world where we made all the right choices. One where we ended up together, happy, and surrounded by all our fallen comrades.

Maybe you have no desire to see me in that way. Perhaps every stolen moment we had was nothing more then something you did to pass the time. I want to believe the man you showed me exists, because everything I showed you was real.

Even after four years I cannot hate you. I hope your heart softens when you think of me too.

With love,

Y/N L/N

A tear splashed on the cream colored paper. Reiner’s hand moved to his cheek trying to recall the moment his eyes leaked water. His heart ached at her words.

Every time he recounted his time on Paradis to other Marleyans internally he always ended the statement with “except her.” Never had he said it aloud, but never had he lumped her in with the rest of them.

He remembered the night when she finally opened up about herself. Growing up in poverty, her abusive father, and the inner turmoil she felt about loving the man that abused her. He’d been so angry when she recounted the abuse to him, and the confusion he felt when she expressed empathy for the monster.

Gripping the letter he realized he had been a different monster to her. Wasn’t that his goal? Make the Devils of Paradis suffer? Then why did he want to beg for forgiveness at her feet for the sins he committed against her?

Running his hand through his hair he straightened the letter. Rereading it, hoping for poisoned words to jump out of the page. He deserved every verbal lashing she could bestow upon him, but he knew they would never come.

He wanted to write back to her. Tell her there wasn’t a moment he regretted leaving her on that island to rot. How her heartbroken look still haunted his dreams. Mostly he just wanted to assure her that he too wanted desperately to believe that in some alternative universe they would be together forever.

Here he was encouraging a full scale attack on the island. “Forgive me for not choosing you anymore either.” The hope of a relationship between the two had been crushed with that statement, but love still lingered in their hearts.

She was exactly what he needed. His bed felt cold without her. He still had issues going to bed alone, because she wasn’t there to coax into bed. Knowing her soft heart would melt if he told her he couldn’t sleep without her.

It was such a strange thing that someone so small was friends with the dark. She often told him she found peace when darkness coated the earth. Perhaps that’s what made it easy for him to fall asleep in her arms. He’d tried to tell her he was a monster, but she’d always kiss his forehead, and assure him that he was a good man, and that she would love him no matter what.

A knock on the door pulled Reiner out of his thoughts. “What is it?”

Porco poked his head through the door, “we have all the Devils bodies. Magath wants you to take a look,” Porco said, gripping the door knob. “See if anybody essential to their military is among them.”

Reiner sighed, folding the letter up and tucking it away before following Porco down to the yard where the bodies were being kept. The gate guards gave them a nod of acknowledgment as they passed.

Several rows of bodies were laid out and Reiner inspected each. They were all new faces. The attack on Paradis they launched four years ago had wiped out the scout regiment.

Reaching the last row he caught sight of a female corpse. The (dark/light) hair looked familiar. His feet seemed to echo off the pavement. Stopping in front of the body he took her in. Her soft curves had grown cold and stiff. Several bullet holes littered her body, and her neck was twisted in an odd angle. Bile rose in Reiner’s throat as he took in the soft cheeks, and her eyes that once held so much warmth were nothing but an empty abyss devoid of life. The color now dull the light long gone out.

Tears streamed down his face as shaking hands reached out to her. Nothing felt like her as he touched her cold skin. He hadn’t felt the sting of pavement as he fell on his knees to grip her hand and brush the hair from her face.

Porco remained silent. Taking in Reiner’s actions. Porco couldn’t find it in his heart to judge the man for falling in love with a devil. Especially when he had watched the woman die.

“I should have taken you back to Marley.” Reiner babbled, amber eyes fixed in the past.

“Reiner, she chose to attack Marley,” Porco tried to reason.

The large man rounded on him. “You know nothing about her,” he seethed. “She never wanted any of this.” Running his fingers through his hair. “All she wanted was to find something more out there than hell she was living in.”

“You can’t blame her death on yourself.” Porco reasoned.

“She would never have come here if it was not for me,” Reiner stated, as he removed a leather pouch that was strapped to her thigh. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he pulled a small stone out.

* ** “Hey L/N!” Reiner said tossing the small stone at her.

A squeak escaped her lips as she lifted her hands to block her face. The stone making an audible thud against her ribs. “You didn’t even try to catch it,” Reiner said, picking the stone back up.

“Well I’m sorry, I grew up with an older brother who would have just pelted me with the rock,” she huffed. “It was a natural reaction to go into defense mode.”

Reiner let out a laugh at the thought of an elder L/N terrorizing her. “It’s a lucky rock,” he said offering the rock to her. He held the perfectly round stone between his index finger and thumb and her fingers brushed against his to pluck it out of his grasp.

“What makes it lucky?” she inquired. Curious eyes flickered up to catch his gaze.

He simply shrugged, “it’s perfectly round. That’s gotta be lucky.”

His answer seemed to satisfy her. “If I make it through our next mission without dying I’ll believe it’s lucky,” she said tucking the stone away in her leather pouch she kept secured to her thigh.

“What’s in your pouch?” Reiner asked, his head tilted as his gaze focused on her legs.

“My most treasured items,” she said with a shrug. “Tell you what Braun if I die before you, you can have my pouch and whatever is in it.”

Reiner ruffled her hair. “You’re not going to die as long as I’m by your side.”

* **

“The only time she wasn’t suffering was when I was lying to her,” Reiner murmured, the guilt washing over him at the sin he most regretted. The luck in the stone had finally faded Reiner thought numbly, or maybe it was the belief in the luck that died.

Perhaps he should be honored that a piece of him was counted among her most treasured possessions. A black and white photograph was the next thing he pulled out. It was a portrait, and Y/N was dressed in Marley’s finest. Joy seemed to be radiating from her face. Reiner’s guilt seemed to lessen. It was possible she had found a way to move on in her daily life.

The next thing he pulled out was a love letter. Reading through it he was surprised to find a small hand drawn portrait enclosed. The letter and portrait signed by Jean Kirstein. By the letter it was a different kind of love. It was the kind of love made for slow mornings, and gentle hearts. It was built for smooth sailing, but was never meant to survive the storms that life threw. Perhaps she knew that, and cherished the safety Jean had brought her for the period of their relationship.

The fact was that Reiner’s relationship with her had been built to weather storms, but he had set sail without her, so she was left to weather the waves without a life preserver. Somehow she’d clawed her way to the shore to try and rebuild what he had taken.

The last thing he pulled out was a small leather journal. Flipping through the pages he found some entries dated to cadet training, and her last entry was the night she died.

“Magath is going to want to read that journal,” Porco stated. Breaking the silence that he had given Reiner to go through her belongings.

Reiner tucked the items back into the satchel. “Can you give me the night to read through it?” Reiner’s downcast eyes took her corpse in one last time.

Porco nodded, “yeah just give it to Magath tomorrow.” Porco gave Reiner’s shoulder an awkward squeeze before leaving him.

Reiner tried to figure out how to say goodbye to the last thing in the past he cared about. The soldier was officially gone, and the only thing that remained was the warrior. All he wanted was more time. His thirteen years were almost up, his best friend and the love of his life didn’t have as much time. Perhaps they would be waiting for him. All he wanted was to see their smiles at the end of all of this. He was tired of fighting, and he was tired of being alone. “We’ll be together again soon,” he vowed, closing the door on death one more time.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Queen of Underland: Izzy

CW: Panic attack, child of recovering adult whumpee, anger as trauma response, referenced noncon kissing and touching (nonsexual), childhood bullying, referenced past domestic and child abuse, some gendered and ableist insults (kid to kid and nothing too intense - just fair warning)

Izzy, at nine years old, has been free with her family for almost five years now, and her mother has been in prison on a life sentence for two. With attention, affection, and therapy, she has blossomed into a quiet kid who nearly always has her nose in a book.

When two classmates try to put her in the center of a storm, Izzy finds something inside herself that she has pushed down for so long she had nearly forgotten she ever had it.

Izzy finds her father’s anger.

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

Izzy sits at her desk, perfectly still, reading a book while the teacher’s out of the room speaking with another teacher in low voices, just in the hallway. The sun shines in the windows that line the wall, lighting the pages of her book, and one of Izzy’s hands rubs repeatedly over the seam down the side of her uniform skirt, the only movement she makes beyond her eyes.

Around her, the others are whispering, passing notes and giggling (except for Noah, who has his own book open, and Jack, who is drawing his story about giant killer robots in a notebook, and Sarah, Jack’s twin sister who is trying to build a tower of pencils and paper), but Izzy barely notices them.

When the teacher comes back in, Izzy will not be whispering, or giggling, or doing anything that might bother her. When the teacher comes back, Izzy will be quiet, and good, and put her book back into her desk and look up with her hands in her lap. She’s the quietest kid in class, she heard the teacher say so.

At home, she’s not always quiet anymore, but at school she still holds a balance, protecting herself and keeping herself safe in the best and truest way she knows - by simply being exactly what the adults need her to be, and keeping all her real feelings and thoughts inside her head.

Still, while the teacher’s out of the room, she takes a few minutes to read while she has the chance. Her heart beats cold and heavy in her chest as she scans over the words on the page, biting down on her lower lip, worrying at a bit of chapped skin. Her left hand settles over the soft texture of pages nearly yellowed with time spent in the school library being held by hundreds of small hands. The fingers on her right hand feel over the seam of her skirt, right along the outside of her leg, again and again.

Fierce anxiety, and a little fear, swirl inside her for the characters that exist only in ink and her imagination.

Two Earthmen entered, but instead of advancing into the room, they placed themselves one on each side of the door, and bowed deeply. They were followed immediately by the last person whom anyone had expected or wished to see: the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the Queen of Underland. She stood dead still in the doorway, and they could see her eyes moving as she took in the whole situation—the three strangers, the silver chair destroyed, and the Prince free, with his sword in his hand.

“I think I like Karissa,” Henry Fitzgerald, who sits at her left, says to his best friend Kevin Magden - not to be confused with Kevin Michaelson, and didn’t the teacher sigh over that sometimes. He has to speak over and around Izzy’s head. 

“Like, like like her?” Kevin Magden asks, sounding half-horrified, half-fascinated. Izzy fights not to roll her eyes, and tries to focus back on her book, on the entrance of the Queen, on the Prince freed but faced with great danger.

The Queen of the Underland, the lady who held the Prince in the dark for ten whole years, that’s older than Izzy even is. Coming into the room to find the children and the Prince, and her having no control any longer. 

She turned very white; but Jill thought it was the sort of whiteness that comes over some people's faces not when they are frightened but when they are angry. For a moment the Witch fixed her eyes on the Prince, and there was murder in them. Then she seemed to change her mind.

“Run,” Izzy whispers, to the children, to Puddleglum the strange marsh creature, to the freed Prince. “Don’t talk to her, just run. Don’t listen to whatever she says, don’t.”

“What are you even saying, Izzy?” Kevin Magden says.

“She’s all in her book like always,” Henry Fitzgerald says, shrugging. He makes some sort of gesture - Izzy doesn’t look up to see it - and the two of them laugh. She doesn’t care about that. The story is far, far more important than they are anyway. “Anyway, Kev, I like-... yeah, I think I like like her. I’m gonna tell her at break.”

“Gross,” Kevin says, but he sounds fascinated. “What if she says she doesn’t like-like you back?”

Henry shrugs again - Izzy can see the movement from the corner of her eye. “Dunno. Maybe kiss her.”

“Gross,” Kevin repeats, much more emphatically. 

Izzy tries to keep her mind on the page, but shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She closes her eyes briefly, thinking of the Queen of the Underland, standing in the doorway. She imagines her with very white skin and dark, long fingernails, wearing a long dress that brushes the earthen floor, making a soft swish-swish sound as she walks. In her mind, the Queen of the Underland has very bright blue eyes and lots of curly, dark brown hair that is threaded with silver down her back, wild and uncontrolled, like it can reach out and grab you and drag you into the dark with her.

She feels like the Queen is not a stranger to her, and not hard to picture at all. Try as she might, she can’t make the Queen in her imagination look like the description of the Queen in the book. She only ever looks one way - beautiful and wicked, deceptively soft, eyes brilliant and shining too bright when the Prince is in pain.

Will she hurt him, while the children have to stand and watch and can’t save him at all?

"Leave us," she said to the two Earthmen. "And let none disturb us till I call, on pain of death." The gnomes padded away obediently, and the Witch-queen shut and locked the door.

"How now, my lord Prince," she said. "Has your nightly fit not yet come upon you, or is it over so soon? Why stand you here unbound? Who are these aliens? And is it they who have destroyed the chair which was your only safety?"

Izzy can hear the Queen’s voice, musical lilt, simpering sweet and dangerous. Why are you leaving me? How dare you. Come back here, Jax, you can’t leave, you’re mine. 

Kevin and Henry are still talking, but Izzy doesn’t hear them any longer. She’s lost in the panic rising inside of her. Run, she thinks, in a scream, a shout in her mind. It isn’t that she doesn’t understand it’s just a book, but that she is still scared, frightened for the prince whose father had grown older while he was gone, whose family must have missed him so much. She is frightened for the children who do not understand the witch or how to fight her. She’s frightened even for Puddleglum, who only wants to help, to do the right thing. Don’t talk to her, don’t give her the chance, just run. She’ll make you hers again. She swallows - it feels like her heart beats itself right up into her throat, like she is swallowing around it - and keeps reading.

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

“I’ll kiss her even if she doesn’t like me back, anyway.”

Izzy’s breath catches, and she blinks, feeling like she has been pulled out of a spell herself. She looks up, glancing sidelong at Henry, who isn’t looking at her at all, just talking to Kevin. “Hen-... Henry-... what did you say?”

“None of your business,” Henry replies, voice harsh and loud enough to get some of the others to look over at them, and Izzy’s shoulders creep up towards her chin, face burning red. She hates when everyone looks at her, hates it more than anything. Henry looks back at Kevin. “At break, I will. I’ll tell her, and I’ll kiss her, whether she wants to or not.”

Izzy looks back down, but the words on the page run together, she can’t see them any longer, they’re just squiggles, meaningless little lines. What I want just matters more, whispers a nightmare she can never quite feel woken up from. She tries, she really does, to focus again on the book but she sees secondly, she took out a musical instrument- 

Izzy slams the little paperback shut, sticks it back in her desk, and says in a thin voice, “You can’t do that if someone doesn’t want you to, it’s wrong.”

“It’s not a big deal, Izzy, geez.” Kevin on her other side speaks up now, and between them she feels like she’s being battered, tossed on a sea, shoved down, locked in the dark. Izzy stares down at her desk, then, letting her eyes lose focus on the wavy colors in the polished wood. Light brown, almost auburn, and darker brown, almost a chocolate color, very like the hair on Izzy’s own head, clipped short and spiky.

Very very like the wavy, thick curls that ran down her mother’s back, that smothered Izzy in the smell of her shampoo and perfume. 

“It is a big deal,” Izzy whispers. “It’s wrong, to make someone kiss you. It’s wrong. It-... it hurts them. It matters what they want, too.”

“Ugh. It's just a kiss. You’re bonkers, you know that?" Henry leans over, almost in her space, and Izzy sits back as far as she can until she presses her back hard into her chair, enough to hurt. “Absolutely mad.” 

“No, I’m not,” Izzy mumbles, but panic twists even worse inside her. Is she? Her mom is. Isn’t she? Don’t you have to be, to be evil? Dr. Marty says no, that those two things are totally separate and people are just bad at understanding that people can be really, really, really bad and still be sane - that bad people almost always are - and Dr. Marty knows everything about crazy and not-crazy, that’s his whole job, and she’s not like her mother anyway, she’s not. 

“Are so,” Henry taunts, falling easily into the familiar cadence of mockery, and Izzy’s face burns brighter and hotter as the room begins to fall quiet, other conversations falling away as the others realize there might be some entertainment now. Her breath comes faster, and she closes her hands into fists at her side, fighting to control the way the fear and a new rise of anger start to twist around inside her stomach, making it flip, making her feel sick. “You’re bonkers for sure, Izzy Gallagher.”

“I-I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not! It’s not right to kiss people who you don’t know if they want to or not! It’s not!”

The room feels suddenly too small, and too big - she can’t escape Henry’s bean-breath and she can’t run far enough to get to the door, she can’t run at all. Some small voice inside her demands she stay still, shut her mouth, never talk again. She should have just finished her book, seen how the Prince would escape the Queen of the Underland, seen if the children help him or just weigh him down, one more bit of stone tying him to Underland and maybe he wishes he could just leave them behind, if they bother him, if they’re no good-

“Ewwwww, who would want to kiss Izzy?” A girl near her wrinkles her nose - Lindsey Smith, Izzy’s brain supplies, in an airless dizzy spin of details that aren’t important but she can’t stop circling around. “She looks like a boy.”

“Hey, back off.” Izzy, surprised, glances over her shoulder to find Noah Hawkins looking up from his own book, eyes narrowed. “Izzy’s hair is cool, and it’s cooler than yours anyway, Lindsey-kins. You just wish you looked as good as she does.”

“Shut up! You just say that because you’re a boy, of course you think boy hair looks cool.” Lindsey sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms in front of herself. She has big poofy hair like Izzy’s would be if she didn’t have her dad cut it so short, held back with a clip. Hers is red, though.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah says from over by the window. “As boy or girl hair, I mean. There’s no such thing. It’s all just hair. Izzy’s hair does look cool. You all should leave it alone, Mrs. Brent is going to be back inside any second and we’ll all get in trouble if there’s fighting.”

“Yeah, Izzy,” Henry hisses at her, leaning in close. Too close. She forgets how to breathe. “Stop causing trouble, Izzy.”

“I’m not,” Izzy whispers. Her face feels like it might light on fire. Her fingernails dig into her palms, until she feels flashes of pain, creating crescents that could take hours to fully fade if she did it hard enough. “I was-... I was just-”

“Just butting in where you don’t belong,” Henry finishes for her. “It’s not your business.”

“It’s-... but, but I just-” Her voice is fading fast, airy and breathless, barely a whisper. Quiet little Izzy Gallagher, who never stands up for herself, who lets everyone talk to her like this, who never says a word she isn’t asked to say. Her fear batters her with wings inside her chest, but beneath it is something else entirely, trying to rise up and take over her mind and mouth. Anger. She and Dr. Marty had talked about it, about how it was a normal feeling to feel, but every swell of it within her was met by the rising tide of fear in response.

She never lets herself be angry. That would make her like her mother, who was angry so much, and she’s not like that, she’s not. 

She doesn’t think, in the moment, that her mother isn’t the only parent who knows how to be angry.

The thoughts are not conscious. They aren’t driven by any kind of logic, they loop and swirl around each other. They flash bright like light in the back of her mind. She thinks about the story, the book inside her desk, the way the Prince fell upon the silver chair, how he swung his sword in dim light. 

She thinks about the prince walking out the hotel doors with a baby in one arm and a little girl on his hip, a backpack heavy against his back, into the sunlight outside. She can remember the way he breathed quick and shallow against her hair, the racing of his heart as he asked her to be very quiet, and very brave. She didn’t know he was scared, he didn’t say it, he was just the Prince, shining in the sunlight, asking for directions to the train station and going in a suit to court later and the silver gave way before the sword’s edge like string, and in a moment a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left of the chair. 

“But-but-but-but, I just-” Henry is still going, and Izzy’s eyes burn as hot as her face, lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace like a snarl. “Just shut up, Izzy Gallagher, nobody cares what you think.”

“Don’t be a dick, I care,” Noah says, from the back of the room, his voice getting louder, now. Other students whoop and go ooooh, Noah likes Izzy, but Noah ignores them, and he doesn’t turn even a little bit red. “Izzy hasn’t done anything wrong to you.” She barely knows Noah, he’s in her class but they don’t talk or anything. This is the first time he’s done more than help her with a math problem, this is the first time she’s heard him even talk in class without the teacher calling on him.

But it feels good to have somebody else stand up for her. 

“She’s butting in!” Henry protests, hands up like he’s the innocent one. “Kevin and I were just talking-”

“About kissing Karissa Bellweather!” Izzy half-shouts. “From the other class! You were talking about kissing someone even if she doesn’t want to! You said you would even if she said no! That’s not right!”

“Ew,” Someone says, Izzy doesn’t know who. Her blood is rushing in her ears almost too loud to hear. “Do you like-like Karissa Bellweather, Henry?”

“No! I don’t!” Henry looks stricken. He hadn’t expected her to just say it out loud like that to everybody. “Gallagher’s lying! She’s a liar!”

“I’m not! I’m not a fucking liar!” Her voice is too loud and she claps her hands over her mouth. Don’t cry, she thinks to herself, and her own thought-voice twists into her mother’s sharper edges. Her palms ache and she wonders if her nails have broken skin, but the wonder is faint, and faded. She feels a hand pressed against the back of her neck, the Queen of the Underland’s voice beside her ear. Don’t cry, Bella. You’re so ugly when you cry. Jax, get her out of my sight. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy says, voice trembling. She isn’t really talking to Henry, not anymore. “Leave-... leave me alone.”

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, huh? Gonna throw some punches?” Kevin is too close on the other side, now. They’re both too close. Izzy’s heart beats all out of time, and when she goes to breathe, it… it doesn’t work. Her breath is stuck in her throat, halfway down. The air just… sits there, and she can’t hitch it in or exhale it. It feels like her throat is closing up, she’ll choke on nothing, black out and fall down. “Bonkers Izzy Gallagher, gonna fight us, are you?”

“I-I could-” Her voice is a whimper, and Izzy closes her eyes. 

“Could not,” Henry mocks, from his side of her. “You’re weak as a puppy. What are you gonna do?”

“Stop-... stop you from talking anymore,” Izzy says, and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape, getting to her feet. She should tell Dr. Marty about the book, she thinks, about the Queen of the Underland. She should tell her father about the Prince tied to the chair, and how he chopped the chair to bits, and she should tell them all about it, nice and safe and quiet at home, and not do what she’s afraid she’s going to do instead.

“How, gonna use something you learned from your mam in prison?” Henry asks, and Izzy remembers, all at once, how to breathe - but it’s all poison. She gulps in air, fear sparking up, her nerves feel like a hundred thousand tiny lightning strikes. She wants to run but she’s at school and there isn’t anywhere to go. 

“Wh-what?”

“My dad says your mam’s famous in the States for being in prison,” Henry says, leaping on this new tactic as the blood drains from Izzy’s face. He’s like animals on the nature shows that James likes to watch at home with their snack, circling a calf all alone. She’s a wounded baby calf, she’s weighing the herd down, she’s not strong or brave enough, she never was. “Did she teach you how to prison-fight? Ooooh, did she show you how to make a-” He jabs at the air, fist closed empty around an imaginary knife. “A prison-blade?”

“Shiv,” Kevin supplies helpfully.

“Right, that. Did your mam show you how to shank someone?”

“I don’t-... I don’t talk to my mom,” Izzy says, half-strangled by her own words. Her head is spinning. Her backpack is so far away. “We don’t-... we don’t have contact-... she doesn’t talk to me, isn’t allowed-”

“Oh, ew.” Henry sits back, and his face lights up with the simple cruelty of wounding someone who looks unable to fight back, of regaining his own stability and distracting everyone from his embarrassment by bringing up Izzy’s shame instead. “Are you so awful even your mam doesn’t want to talk to you?”

No. She doesn’t. Izzy’s lip trembles. She can’t bring herself to try and respond. She doesn’t, she doesn’t want to know anything about me at all. The last thing my mom ever said to me was yelling at me not to look so scared all the time and Dad said she never asked about me when he talked to her during the trial she never asked she never-

“Hey, Henry,” Someone says. “This is super gross stuff to say, isn’t it?” Izzy can’t see anything but Henry’s face, everything else is white noise and his words ringing through her, settling too deeply inside, meeting her own thoughts that match them, sometimes, on hard days. She never asked about me, she doesn’t even care that I hate her. Your mam is supposed to care if you hate her. You’re so awful your mom doesn’t even care about you. Your mam is supposed to-

“Yeah, Henry. That’s too far, that’s really mean.”

“She can’t help who her mam is, Hen.”

“Yeah, it’s not like she went to the mam shop and picked a rubbish one.”

“My dad was away for a while, Iz, I get it. My mam says it doesn’t say anything about us. People make bad choices is all.”

“I haven’t even seen my dad since I was five, Izzy, it’s okay, don’t be sad.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Izzy, don’t be sad, Henry’s just being awful.”

“Hey, she was awful first!”

“Go run up a pole, Henry. I like you, Izzy,” Sarah says, from the window, and moves in her direction. “Henry’s being a jerk, don’t listen to him. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.”

“I like you, too, you’re fun at break, you always have good ideas for games.” That’s Amira, using that certain kind of tone you use when you are trying to comfort an upset person, and Izzy feels some of the ice closing around her heart starting to warm up, to melt, to crack apart. 

Even Lindsey says, almost grudging, “Don’t be sad because of Henry, Izzy. He’s really mean sometimes.”

“I think you’re really cool,” Noah says, in a quieter voice. “Please don’t be sad. Want to play monsters at break?”

They don’t all hate her, they don’t. Someone puts a hand at her back, and she flinches, and they pull the hand away, but they don’t hate her for pulling away, they don’t hate her voice or her hair and they don’t hate her for speaking up, they don’t. 

Henry hasn’t given up, not yet. “Your mam’s in prison for being a shit to your dad, isn’t she?” 

Izzy doesn’t look at him, leaning down to pull the book out of her desk, trying to think. She can pull her backpack out and go the nurse, say she’s feeling sick, and maybe her dad will come get her and take her home. They can call Dr. Marty and she can tell him what happened and Dr. Marty will know what to tell her and her dad to work on for the next time. She can tell him that there were good things, too, like that Noah said he thinks she’s cool, and Amira likes her game ideas, and not everybody hates her because she has the wrong mom, and it’s going to be okay. 

It’s going to be okay.

“Henry, stop it,” She says, in a half-whisper. “Please stop.”

She can go to the nurse. Say she’s sick, it’s not a lie, her stomach is all twisted up in knots. It’ll be true, she’s not going to feel better. She has sweat on her forehead drying cold, making her shiver a little. It’s not a lie, being scared makes her sick, it’s a real sick, it’s not a lie. She gets sick a lot from being scared, Dr. Marty says it’s normal for kids who have anxiety, she has exercises to do, she can picture all her hurting thoughts and move them away, and… 

“That’s what my dad said.” Henry’s voice cuts in. “He said your mam’s a piece of fucking work and probably made your dad one, too-”

“Don’t talk about my dad!” She rounds on him, then, book clutched to her chest. “Don’t you dare, you don’t-... you don’t have any right! You don’t know what happened, you don’t know us, you don’t know anything! My dad is better than yours ever could be! And, and stronger, and braver, too!”

Izzy Gallagher, quiet as a mouse, teacher’s pet from sheer terrified inaction, who always sits still and listens carefully and takes direction so well and is just an absolute pleasure to have in class, Mr. Gallagher, an absolute pleasure, is shouting and doesn’t realize it until the words have left her mouth. 

She should stop, some part of her brain begs her to stop, but the anger is suddenly larger than the fear and she is a little girl with a sword. Where they came from, and what she and her father and her little brother have survived, is a silver chair she will hack to bits until all that’s left shines like jewelry when held up to the light.

Henry’s eyes widen, they are big saucers, and they are very bright and very blue.

“My dad is amazing.” She can’t stop shouting. She’s not even trying to stop any longer. “He lived through really bad stuff and he still got us away from it! Even though it would have been easier to go by himself and leave us, he didn’t, and my mom is evil, and I’m not, because you don’t have to be what your mom is and I’m not ever going to be like that, but you are evil, Henry Fitzgerald, and you don’t even have an excuse! You’re-... you’re mean for no reason, and I hope Karissa spits in your face and kicks you between your legs as hard as she fucking can! You are an asshole, Henry Fitzgerald, and you can go fuck yourself all the way home!”

“Isabella Gallagher!” Mrs. Brent’s voice is shocked, and the words die in Izzy’s throat, as she slowly turns to see the teacher standing in the doorway, staring at her like she’d grown three heads and all of them have fangs. 

Izzy feels like she has fangs, too. And claws, like she is a monster herself. She should be scared, or sad, or ashamed of herself, but all she feels is anger burning bright and hot and good in her veins, louder than fear. Angry feels safer than scared. She feels proud of herself, a feeling so unfamiliar it seems like it must be someone else’s. Sarah, close to her now, whispers, go Izzy, in a soft impressed voice, and Izzy feels her eyes burn again, more than before, but for a different reason. 

They don’t hate her, and Henry isn’t saying bad things about her dad any longer, because of her. They don’t hate her.

“You might be even cooler now,” Amira says, and the teacher shushes all of them and points Izzy out, telling her to go see the Head Teacher. Any other Izzy would slink out with her shoulders hunched, full of fear, but this Izzy feels the buzz of standing up for herself running through her and warming all the cold, chasing the heavy hand on her neck away. This Izzy walks with her chin up and her shoulders back.

Some of the warm feeling goes away when the Head Teacher calls her dad to come get her, and says in her stern hard voice that Izzy was yelling and cursing at another student. The Head Teacher doesn’t say that she had a reason, and makes it sound like Izzy just stood up and started cursing for no reason at all. That’s… that’s not fair. Grown-ups always do that, make it seem like kids just go off for no reason, and Izzy can’t hear what her dad says back to the Head Teacher, but a lot of the warm feeling goes away, then. Her heart feels cold and scared again.

What if he’s mad at her?

What if she can’t be sorry enough to fix it?

Izzy sits in a hard wooden chair that is shaped all wrong for kids and makes her legs hurt after a while, waiting for him to come get her with a racing heart, her book open in her lap. 

There’s some brown-y red smeared on the cover, drying. She made her palms bleed when she was scared and didn’t even notice. She’ll ask her dad to buy the school library a new one. She wants to keep this one for herself.

"I have come," said a deep voice behind them. They turned and saw the Lion himself, so bright and real and strong that everything else began at once to look pale and shadowy compared with him. And in less time than it takes to breathe Jill forgot about the dead King of Narnia and remembered only how she had made Eustace fall over the cliff, and how she had helped to muff nearly all the signs, and about all the snappings and quarrellings. And she wanted to say "I'm sorry" but she could not speak. Then the Lion drew them towards him with his eyes, and bent down and touched their pale faces with his tongue, and said:

"Think of that no more. I will not always be scolding. You have done the work for which I sent you into Narnia."

"Please, Aslan," said Jill, "may we go home now?"

"Yes. I have come to bring you Home," said Aslan.

A flash of gray, worn jeans in her vision brings her slowly into awareness of the world around her, but it’s the voice that breaks her completely from the story’s spell. 

“Talk to me, kiddo.”

Izzy looks up to meet her father’s eyes, surprised - she hadn’t even heard him come up. But they’re quiet movers, the Gallaghers - except for Jamie, who never had to learn to move so quiet she couldn’t hear him, who never had to push down all his sounds so deep inside himself he could go whole days without making any at all. 

Her dad drops into a crouch in front of her, and his knees crack a little, but if it bothers him he doesn’t show it. He looks up at her, from this angle, and he doesn’t look mad.

He almost never looks mad at her.

“I got a call that you were fighting in class.” He looks like he’s trying not to twitch a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And using some pretty creative language.”

“Can’t imagine where I learned to curse,” Izzy says gravely, and there - that was definitely a smile on his face that he has to hide as fast as it shows. She lives for her father’s smile. Still, she closes her book, and folds her hands on top of the stain on the cover so he won’t see it. “I only yelled a little. Henry Fitzgerald was mean to me, and he was going to-... he was going to kiss a girl who didn’t want him to kiss her, even if she didn’t want him to. He said it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not.”

“Ah.” It’s all he says, at first. His face doesn’t show much, now. Her nervous heart starts to beat fast again.

“It’s, that was, um, that was before he got mean. He got mean when I told him that it’s wrong to do that and… I kind of… told everybody in class he was going to.”

Her father’s eyebrows raise, a little. “You did, did you?”

“Yes. Then he said his dad told him my mom’s in prison and that-” She stops herself, closing her hands tightly over the book, before her voice can start to shake again. She takes deep breaths, strong ones, fills her whole lungs up. Her dad waits for her, he always waits for Izzy when she needs him to. “He said, it was just, it was a stupid thing, but it made me really angry.”

Her dad’s face hasn’t changed, but Izzy knows when emotions change in a room, even without anyone’s face moving at all. She can feel that something has shifted inside him, something he’s not showing her. “What did he say?” 

“That I must be awful if my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.” She says it flat, like it doesn’t bother her at all to hear it. No big deal, it’s normal to have a mother who hates you for stealing your father even though it didn’t happen that way. “Then he said mean stuff about you, and… I was already upset, so… I kind of went off on him. I’m sorry you got called and had to come get me.”

“But you’re not sorry you did it,” He says, and it’s not a question.

She presses her lips tightly together, and shakes her head. “I’m… I’m not. He needed to be yelled at. I’m not sorry, Dad. I mean, I am sorry that you have to do anything, but, I’m not-... sorry for calling him all those names and I will put my money from my birthday in the swear jar if you want, I’ll skip tea for a week and put all my chocolates in there, but I still won’t be sorry for yelling when he was mean about you.”

He huffs a sound like quiet laughter and offers her his hands. “Izzy… I don’t care what a year three kid - or his dad - says about me. But clearly it was important to you. Let me go in there and talk to the Head Teacher about it, and we’ll talk out what happens next on our way home. Okay?”

No anger, or threatening punishments, no mention of discipline ever leaves his slightly smiling lips. Izzy is never taught through making her afraid, not anymore. But he waits, seriously, for her to acknowledge what he’s said. 

“Okay, Dad. We’ll talk about what I need to do. And-... can we call Dr. Marty when we get home? I-... want to talk to Dr. Marty about what happened.”

He looks surprised, but not unhappy about it, and nods. “Yeah, kiddo. Good plan. I’ll be back out in just a bit.” When he turns to walk into the Head Teacher’s office, she thinks that even with everything, he looks very like a grown-up prince, and the rings in his ears look like shredded silver. 

She lifts a hand to touch the shell of her own ear, on her left side. 

Izzy opens her book, to the murmur of their voices as they talk about her. She decides to finish it later, and instead she flips back to read again the bit where the prince takes his sword to the chair that kept him under the spell and tells the evil Queen of Underland that he isn’t hers any longer. 

He will go home, to his family, to be freed of her entirely, even if she still shows up in bad dreams… bad dreams are the only place she can come to, now. He’ll wake up and someone will tell him that she’s gone and she can’t come back, and it will be true. They’ll tell him, again and again, until he believes it. 

Izzy will tell her dad, until he believes it.

Jax will tell her, until she believes it, too.

But first… 

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

"Madam, there will be no more need of that chair. And you, who have told me a hundred times how deeply you pitied me for the sorceries by which I was bound, will doubtless hear with joy that they are now ended for ever. There was, it seems, some small error in your Ladyship's way of treating them. These, my true friends, have delivered me. I am now in my right mind, and there are two things I will say to you…”

“Go fuck yourself,” Izzy whispers with a smile on her face and the thrill of forbidden words up her spine. She isn’t talking to Henry Fitzgerald this time, either. She never really was. “And I’m not sorry you’re not Queen anymore at all.”

---

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