#in the darkness and in the things that are old and decrepit or forgotten

[sapphicteaparty]

*TAPE 2 SPOILERS*

did anyone else notice the parallel between the cabin and the box both being initially introduced as something dark, creepy and ominous only to be later transformed into vessels containing so much love and beauty?? because i did 😭😭😭

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general - fighting, blood, injuries, sickness

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TEN ▪︎ OTHERS AMONG US (7.8k)

Like Felix predicted, it takes about an hour for you to arrive at the port. It's not much to look at, really. There's a large building–maybe an old theatre–with the middle collapsed into the water, allowing access inside and out by boat. From where you're hidden across the water, you can see a few people walking around with various weapons, mostly bows– silent killers, smart. The inside is hard to see from this angle, but you do see a boat or two come in and out while observing.

Han is the first to go, treading the water carefully and using the foliage to his advantage. There's a moment you swear he'll get caught, your own breath held as he sinks under the water when a boat gets dangerously close to his hiding spot. Your grip on the edge of the wall you're watching over tightens, and you wouldn't be surprised to look down and see how light your knuckles have become from doing so. As soon as Han makes it over, he signals from the spot you all agreed to begin at- the decrepit looking dock that seems to be unused, right where it connects to the building. Nobody appeared to be keeping guard there, nor had any boats passed along the edge.

You're the next to go, knowing that if anything happens on the swim over, both Felix and Han should be able to get to you before anyone notices your struggle. The plants in the water allow you to take small breaks, your limbs still heavy with constant exhaustion. You're about to emerge from the tangle of weeds, but the roar of an engine stops you in your tracks. The issue- that sound is coming right towards you, a boat in line directly with your hiding place. At the very last second you take the deepest breath you've ever taken, then plunge under the surface.

Water fills your nostrils, having forgotten to plug them in time. It takes everything in you not to exhale, to hold in the burning air. Darkness engulfs you as the hull passes through the weeds, and you swear for a moment that you can see something red flashing in the water a couple feet away. You try taking a closer look, but then light re-penetrates the surface and it's gone in an instant. Finally, you can swim back up and take a deep breath before finishing your way to Han. He grabs onto your arm, helping you behind a small concrete half wall.

Felix is quick to join last. Looking around the edge of a broken wall, you can see the theatre is bigger than it seemed from a distance, clearly having been expanded by the looks of it. Wooden platforms are built onto the old walls, with plenty of small docks all around the centre. Above, there's a matching wooden floor, ladders spread around the edge to get up there. As curious as you are to see just how these people live, you know that isn't the goal here.

Across the water is the only boat currently docked, three people standing right by it. One woman has short, dark hair, and seems to be arguing with the other two about something. With the angle they're standing at, it's hard to catch a glimpse of the others' faces. Gears start turning as you examine the rest of the theatre, memorizing as much of the layout as you can see; where certain ladders seem to lead, which sections connect where. It's simple, really, the way to get to the boat. The wooden half walls surrounding the opening where the boats are docked allow for a lot of cover, and you can easily make your way up and around with the ladders, landing exactly where you need to be.

"I know what to do," you say, turning around to face the others. "Let me get the boat, I see a good route. Felix, I want you to go back to where we came from and do that really high-pitched whistle, okay? Distract. Han-" You lock eyes with him. "-be ready with your slingshot in case something happens. I'm going to come swinging around this side, so you'll have to be ready to jump in the boat. Same goes for you, Lix.”

"This sounds dangerous," Han states, but doesn't argue.

"Isn't everything?" You cock an eyebrow, and you swear you can see the hint of a smile on his face.

Once everyone is in position, you begin making your way inside. Every step has you holding your breath, feeling the wood creak slightly underfoot as you make your way to the closest ladder. With a height advantage, you'll be able to plan the best escape route between the few exits available through the broken walls.

You slide a hand against the wooden half wall at the edge of the water as you walk, crouched down low and out of sight. There's a strange lack of people around, but you assume it has something to do with the conflict between groups. It reminds you of stories you'd hear back in the QZ about soldiers going out and claiming more small towns from survivors to expand military control. Back then, you assumed the survivors would be integrated into the zones, but you think better of it now.

Ascending the ladder, you can't help slightly marveling at the handiwork done to this place. The work is seriously impressive, and you wonder just how long it's taken to get to this point. Before lifting yourself onto the second floor, you glance around to ensure there's nobody there. Once you confirm the coast is clear, you take the last few steps, keeping low to the ground as you make your way around. Up here, there are walls dividing different rooms and you want to peek into every single one. In the very last one, you spot a wall covered in notes. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you walk inside.

Each note contains different information- things on the opposing group (which you know have learned are called M.O.A), sightings of others in the area unrelated to them (you assume that's your group), code words and names you can't even begin to understand (who thinks of these?). In the centre of the room is a small table, a couple of bottles left on it like there were people just casually having a drink not too long ago. One still has liquid in it and another is knocked over, the beverage soaking through more paper on the table. You examine the papers, seeing a hand drawn map coupled with one similar to the one you found previously. Like that one, the dome is circled in red. Something about this place must be important-

Click.

Turning slowly with your hands raised, you're faced with the woman you saw by the boat earlier. Her short hair is pulled back into tight braids now, and she's dressed differently- an oversized hood obscuring part of her face. Her gun is pointed directly at your chest, a red dot marked above your rapidly beating heart.

"Who are you?" She asks, tilting her head. Her voice is softer than you imagined it to be.

"Nobody," you say. "Let me go, and we won't have any trouble."

"If I don't let you go, there won't be trouble because you'll be dead." She states, as if it means nothing whether you live or die. "Or did you not see my gun?"

"Oh, I see it," you mutter. "I prefer knives, or really anything I can throw."

Before she can blink, you're tossing one of the discarded bottles straight at her head. She dodges at the last second, but not before you throw the other to where you predicted, hitting her directly in the face. While she's distracted, you run past her, making sure to push her down as you go for good measure. Making a leap for the edge of the half wall, you're grabbing onto it as something- no, someone- grabs onto your ankle, knocking you down. Your forehead smacks the wall as you fall.

"You think I'd let you get away that easily?" The woman is climbing over you, pinning you to the ground with her gun pointed at your head.

Grunting, you try and fail to squirm away before she has you fully pinned. She's pressing her gun to your temple, the cool metal almost nice against your burning hot skin. You can see her better now, the hood that was obscuring her face now pulled back in the scuffle. If not for the position you were currently in, you might have been stunned by her beauty. Her dark eyes pierce into yours, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. There's already a soft, red bruise beginning where you hit her before. Before she can pull the trigger, there's a noise that distracts her, Felix, and suddenly she's screaming. At first, you're confused, but then she drops her gun to hold over her eye, blood dripping through her fingers. You turn your head just in time to see Han-

"Jisung! Duck!" You shout, crawling out from under her trembling body as somebody appears behind Han with a large spear, aimed right at his head.

You grab the gun, using the red dot to shoot directly at their head. They drop, and you don't waste a second to toss the gun down to Han. As soon as your fingers let go of the weapon, you're being yanked back by an arm around your neck. The bruises from Ryujin haven't healed completely, making the pain ten times worse as the woman chokes you. Kicking upward, you manage to dislodge yourself from her grip and do the only thing you can think of.

You jump. Right into the water beside the boat.

For what feels like the hundredth time today, water engulfs you, but you don't allow yourself to panic. Although it stings, you keep your eyes open to find your way back to the surface. Bullets are penetrating the water around you, one almost hitting you in the shoulder, but the murky water helps hide you.

Climbing onto the dock, you're just about to get into the closest boat when an arrow shoots into your shoulder. You let out a small noise, looking down to see the arrowhead sticking out. Despite the pain, you force yourself to continue on; you can't fail your people. The motor stutters, and you curse under your breath as another arrow shoots the wooden dock next to you. Ducking your head, you struggle to get the motor going, but then it does, and you're flying out of there in seconds.

"Hop on!" You shout before reaching where Han is still shooting rocks as defence. His head turns at the sound of your voice and he grins widely as you rush by, jumping at the last second. He tumbles into the boat behind you, causing it to rock heavily.

Han takes over driving the boat for you as you fall against the side of the boat clutching your shoulder. The wound is throbbing, blood steadily leaking, but you try not to focus on it as you get closer to Felix's location. You spot him quickly as he bounds across the small, apocalypse-made island, ready to get in the boat as soon as possible. Reaching out a hand, you help him in as Han slows down just enough for Felix to step inside.

"That was intense." Felix breathes heavily. "Did the distraction even work?"

"Kind of," You groan, wincing as you bring your hand away from his. "It saved me from being shot in the head, so."

"Oh, good." Felix nods, sounding genuinely relieved.

Han is speeding away from the theatre as people continue shooting at your boat, taking a large circle around the makeshift shelter and aiming for a small river breaking off from the area. Arrows are flying around you in the water, and you're almost impressed by the amount of ammo they appear to have. As you're reaching the exit, there's a rumble and the sound of splashing water from somewhere close behind you. Risking a glance, you see water flying up, and something connects in your brain.

"There are explosives in the water," you say, voice becoming higher. "Han, go faster!"

"I'm going as fast as I can." Han steers as another goes off, too close for comfort.

Another explosion rocks your boat, and the exit is seeming further and further with every second. Felix takes the gun from Han, ready to defend as you need. He keeps low, but another rock of the boat has the gun slipping from his hands and into the water.

"Shit!" Felix tries to grab it, but it's too late. "Damn it-"

Suddenly, Felix's body lurches back, and your eyes widen when they land on him. He's grasping at his face, an arrow pierced through his cheeks. Not a wound to kill, but you know it's gotta hurt with the way blood is pouring out. You're by his side in an instant, ready to break the ends of the arrow and use whatever you can to pack the wound, but you find yourself flying through the air instead.

It's like everything is in slow motion- you, flying forward toward the river you were so close to exiting through, the ringing in your ears, the sounds of shouting and more boat motors coming out of nowhere. When you finally hit the water again, time returns to normal. Plunging under the water, you only stop when your leg gets tangled in some vines. Slipping a knife from your waist, you cut them away and use the brief momentum to propel yourself toward where you can only assume a shore lies.

Pulling yourself out of the water, you cough and cough and cough, until you're collapsing onto the ground. There's no more shouting, no more boats, only the slight ringing that remains in your ears and the sound of water rushing past. You're on dirt- maybe some woods in the middle of the city, and you once again have no idea where you are.

"Y/n?" Your head snaps up to see Han stumbling through the trees from your left.

"Jisung!" You've never felt happier to see him, struggling to stand and run toward him.

For the first time, you embrace him tightly. His arms hover around your body for a moment before returning the hug just as intensely. Breathing you in, he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, muttering against your skin.

"I didn't see where Felix went," he mumbles. "I saw you in the air and tried to swim after you, but when you went under... I don't know."

"We have to find Felix." You pull away enough to look at his face, keeping your hands resting on his shoulders. "It's not safe out here and he's injured."

"Injured?" Hans eyebrows furrow. "From the concussion? ‘Cause he told me he was okay from that."

"No, I guess you didn't see... one of those people shot him." You shake your head. "If we see more of them, it's on sight."

"In your bloodthirsty era?" Hans lips quirk up slightly.

Ignoring his comment, you push off of him with a small sound of pain- you somehow managed to forget about the arrow in your shoulder, adrenaline taking over during the struggle down the river. You grab the tip of the arrow, ready to break it, but Han steps close to you again.

"Let me help." You're too physically exhausted to protest, leaning against a nearby tree as he snaps the wooden arrow.

You wince, the movement making your eyes water. It hurts like hell as he pushes the rest out, discarding it on the ground. Fresh blood pours out of your wound, and Jisung is quick to wrap the wound with some fabric he's pulled from his back pocket; the same fabric from the sheet Felix wrapped his head with. You bite your lip to prevent more noise coming out of your mouth as he tightens the thin fabric around your shoulder, tying a knot to keep it in place.

"Not nearly as good as Lix or Jeongin... but it'll do," you say, glancing down at his handiwork.

"Shut up," Han laughs, making a move to push you lightly, but thinking better of it given your current condition. "We should rest. We're losing light, and I don't want those people to find us stranded in the dark woods."

He has a point, you know he does, but resting while Felix is now missing and you're nowhere closer to getting back to the others feels wrong. It's like Han can sense what you're feeling, taking your hand in his with a light squeeze.

"We can't help them if we collapse from exhaustion," he says carefully.

You sigh, frustrated. "Fine. Let's try to find somewhere not riddled with infected for once."

-

Only a few hours later, you find yourself in a different part of the city that isn't so flooded. The streets have puddles here and there, but nothing compared to the other side; you must be heading more inland. You're able to just barely climb up a fire escape, picking the lock to enter the upstairs level of a store. Instead of being met with a storefront though, it's an apartment, and you're only mildly confused, yet very okay with this setting instead. Much more comfortable than what you were expecting.

Han drags a heavy table in front of the door, letting you sit down and catch your breath. Somehow, you managed to pick the one place with no zombies to fight, and you're extremely grateful. Outside, you watch as the wind picks up again, and the rain begins to come down heavily.

"It's kinda nice." Han leans against the window. "The rain, when you're not stuck in it."

You hum in agreement. It is nice, he's right; the sound of the rain pelting against the glass windows, noise to drown out the mess of thoughts going through your head. Looking up, your heart aches slightly when the cloudy skies come into view. Your fingers find the charm under your shirt, still there despite it all. Maybe it's time to sleep.

After some restless tossing and turning, you sit up on the couch. The rain is still going, thunder sending a rumbling through your chest. Han insisted on taking the couch, so you're left alone in the bedroom, wishing you were somewhere else instead, anywhere else. The cold, lonely atmosphere has your chest tight, your skin littered with goosebumps, your mind haunted by ghosts of the past. You think of Chaeryeong. You think of Felix. You think of yourself, back in the QZ.

"Can't sleep?" Han's voice startles you, and you look up to see him in the doorway; you shake your head.

Slowly, he walks into the room and you find him kneeling in front of you. It's hard to look at him like this, his expression sympathizing with you, feeling guilty that he's stuck in this mess with you. With gentle hands- how are they so soft?- he's cupping your cheeks and rubbing his thumbs over your skin. The action is simple, and yet, you find yourself relaxing into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut. You sigh, allowing your body to calm down.

"We're going to find Felix, okay?" Han says softly. "And we'll get back to the others fine. They'll be okay."

You sigh again, bringing your own rough hands over his and bringing them down from your face. Staring into his eyes, it's like looking into little galaxies; somehow there's still a sparkle, no matter how shitty the situation seems.

"Can you sleep in here tonight?" You ask, thinking back to when you were captured together. His body next to yours, warm and comforting... it helped. More than you'd like you admit.

Han nods, sensing this isn't the time to tease you. You climb back into the dusty bed together, his body lying next to you with a small gap between you. After a few minutes, you can't take it anymore and move closer, enough to intertwine your hands. You close your eyes with a sigh as he accepts your hand, not seeing the way he looks over to you.

The profile of your face is highlighted by the moonlight now shining through the thin curtains, rain having stopped for now. He exhales, admiring how you look right now; if only you could look so at peace all of the time.

-

The dome turns out to be a bigger community than Minho would have ever imagined, nearly the population of a QZ. His eyes widen slightly, blinking rapidly as they enter the building, mind still reeling from watching you fall from the bridge.

It took everything to not jump in after you, but after seeing Jisung and Felix fall with you, something told him you'd be better off without him coming too. Minho made a plan that instant- make sure Chan finds his sister, then set out to find you. As much as he wants to leave sooner than later, he also wanted to make sure this wasn't a trick, not after hearing from Chan how you were kidnapped. No one should have to go through something like that, not when the world around you is already so terrible. Although he doesn't know the others well, he can't leave them to a fate like that unknowingly.

Now, he's looking up through the broken roof, rain pouring into the centre of the building- what seems to be an old arena. There are several large buckets on the grass collecting the water, rows of various fruits and vegetables lining the sides. It's amazing, seeing how these people are living.

Lily guides everyone through rows of old seats, exiting through a curtain divider between them, and entering a large hallway. Minho pauses by the window, looking down to where you fell. Water rushes by angrily, the wind having picked up more since coming inside. His jaw clenches, the grip he has on the windowsill tightening. Someone puts a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon." Changbin leads him away from the window.

Minho trudges behind the others, mind still whirling with ideas of how to slip away, where to go, how far you've traveled. Finally, Lily stops in front of a door labeled 'employees only', and Minho almost walks into Hyunjin's back. Hyunjin glances back, eyes briefly glancing down, then back up to Minho's face.

"She's in here," Lily says quietly, opening the door slowly. "Fair warning, she's not doing well. You might not want to see her until she's had a few doses of the anitbioti-"

"I'm seeing my sister," Chan grits out, cutting Lily off.

Lily stares at Chan for a moment longer, then nods. He follows Lily into the room, the others trailing slightly behind. Minho is right by Chan, ready for whatever it is that is such a big deal that Lily had to warn them. Then, he sees her, and his steps falter.

"Hannah?" Chan chokes her name out, forearm going to cover his mouth, eyes scrunching up.

She's lying on a couch in what appears to be the employee lounge, a blanket brought up to her chin, but not hiding what's evident on her face. Black veins run from around her eyes and mouth, lips chapped and skin dry. Her breath is coming out in wheezes, body occasionally twitching.

"She's infected," Minho states, unable to tear his eyes away from the unconscious girl. Chan is beside him, regaining control over his breathing, and it's clear his confusion is turning to anger as his eyebrows furrow and he looks at Lily.

"We came all this way, lost some of our people, and you couldn't even bother to tell us she's infected?" Chan points to Hannah, keeping his voice low, a hint of venom in his words.

Lily doesn't flinch away, doesn't back down as Chan approaches her. "You need to let me explain-"

"There's nothing to explain!" Chan bites his lip to keep from fully shouting. "How long? How long ago was she bitten?"

"A week ago," Lily whispers, and the room falls silent.

A week...? Minho shakes his head, eyes falling back to Hannah. Impossible. She should be fully turned by now, but here she is, just... sick. Really, really, sick. This shouldn't be possible.

Chan walks over to the couch, kneeling down beside Hannah. He brushes her hair out of her face, keeping one hand on her shoulder as Lily comes beside him to administer the antibiotics. What they're going to do- who knows? Nothing, most likely. Regular antibiotics can't cure this kind of virus.

"These should help with the fever," Lily says, like she can read everyone's thoughts right now. "Obviously they won't cure her completely, but they'll help with her body adjusting to... to whatever is going on inside of her. I've never seen anything like this."

"None of us have," Jeongin says quietly from the back of the group. Minho glances over his shoulder, seeing Jeongin standing straight with his eyes forward. He would have made a good soldier if he didn't leave the zone.

After a few moments of silence among the group, people start filtering out of the room, Minho being one of the last to leave. He stares at Chan and Hannah a little longer, wondering what's supposed to happen from here on out. They've found Hannah, but will she survive the journey back to wherever these people live? Can she even leave this place? How long will they be stuck here?

The last question is almost completely irrelevant to Minho anyway as he slips through the doorway, still planning his silent escape. Running a hand against the rough wall, Minho walks slowly through the corridors, keeping an eye out for the others. It's better to try and avoid them now that he's been separated; maybe he'll leave a note with someone, or maybe he'll just go now. Rain continues to pour outside, fogging the windows. Minho leans his palms against the windowsill, hanging his head and taking a second to breathe.

You're out there, somewhere, and he's wasting time standing here. Yes, you have Felix and Han with you, but maybe you got separated, maybe one of them didn't make it, maybe you didn't-

"Stop it," Minho whispers, fingers finding the charm lying underneath his shirt. "She made it."

-

The sun is out, shining through the thin, worn fabric draped over the window and over your bodies, still entangled with one another. Han's chest makes your head rise and fall with each breath he takes, and you can't help but wonder if this is the first time you've woken up feeling like you actually slept. Opening your eyes, you see he's already awake, one hand over yours on his stomach, his other in your hair.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Han smiles down at you, his shoulders propped up slightly by the flat pillow underneath him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a rock." You try sitting up, but he wraps one arm around you, keeping you in place. "Jisung, let me up."

With his arm still wrapped around you, he sits up more, causing you to shift with him. You're laughing lightly until he tries to roll the two of you over, your wounded shoulder pressing into the mattress. The pressure causes you to let out an involuntary sound of pain, and Han is hovering over you in seconds, hands gently lifting your upper body.

"Shit, are you okay?" Han cradles you in his lap, taking the pressure completely off of you now.

"I'm fine," You almost stutter, pushing away from him gently.

He lets you go, sitting there watching as you slip off the bed and rub your face. You weren't lying- you've never slept so hard in your life, at least, not since leaving the QZ, and you've got the grogginess to prove it as you pull your boots on. There's no point in sticking around this place any longer than needed, so you grab your pack without another word, expecting Jisung to be by your side as you open the door to the fire exit. When you turn around to say something, he isn't there. With furrowed eyebrows, you walk back to the bedroom to see him squinting at something through the window.

"What is it?" You ask, getting close to his side, trying to follow his eyes.

"Look, there-" He points to what looks like a dark cloud. "-smoke. We should head toward it."

"Are you dumb, or stupid?" You step away, laughing in disbelief. "Yes, we should walk toward danger. Such a great idea."

Han scoffs, shaking his head as he turns to grab his own pack. "Smoke means people, people mean possibly finding our way to Felix. Finding our way to Felix means finding our way back to the others."

With a roll of your eyes, you mumble a quiet agreement and walk behind Han as he leads you out.

The day drags on as you stumble through broken roads and fallen tree trunks, the smoke clearing more with each step. If you don't get there soon, you may never find the source, so you don't make much time for rest. Finally, you've made it to the edge of a clearing, back in the woods you came through before. A somewhat large bonfire is lit in the middle, a few tents set up in a circle around it, not too close, not too far. You recognize one head of hair from earlier, a flash of orange disappearing through the hanging cloth. Getting closer, you can begin to make out some of the faces- no sign of Felix.

There's a hand on your arm and you flinch, head whipping around to see Han with a finger to his lips. He nods his head forward in the direction you were about to go, and you see a cloaked figure holding a wooden bowl walking that same way. If Han hadn't stopped you, you would've been caught. It's humbling sometimes, having him around and knowing all the things he's stopped you from walking into.

With a hand on your lower back, he guides you the opposite way, back around some of the tents to the left. It's dangerous, the thin material doing little to hide your silhouettes as you run crouched behind them, but it's all you can do. You're almost certain the orange haired guy knows something that could help you find Felix, and you're willing to confront him now and deal with the consequences later, even if it means fighting your way out of the clearing. Looking around, you spot the man coming out of the tent- your new target. There must be something in there that's important with the expression he's walked out with, the hushed words to the other man standing guard- wait, standing guard-?

You look around. No other tent has protection other than maybe a spare weapon lying around. So, what makes this tent so special? You intend to find out. Without a second thought, you make a beeline for the entrance of the tents and once again find yourself jolting backward instead.

"Y/n!" Han whispers, tone harsher than he meant for it to be. You look at him over your shoulder. "We can't just- we can't just run in there! If we're caught, we'll be outnumbered. Go around and take that guy out from the back, I'll be your eyes out this way, okay? Then, I'll join you."

Nodding, you begin sneaking around the circle again once Han has let go of your arm, checking to make sure you didn't accidentally pass it every few tents. Once you make it to the right one, you pause and take a deep breath. Han is nowhere to be seen on the other side, which you know is good, but not knowing where he is makes your lungs seize up briefly.

The guard is sitting on a small stool- no, a small stump, whittling away at a piece of wood in his hands taking on some kind of animal, maybe a rabbit.

Now is not the time to get distracted, you remind yourself, taking light steps forward. The guard stays unaware the whole time you're sneaking up and you think the plan is going perfectly until he stands up and turns around, eyes widening slightly when they find yours. He blinks, you freeze, then your senses kick in, and you lunge forward. Bringing his body back between the tents, you're quick to flip him in your arms and wrap your forearm around his front, your other hand over his mouth. Tightening your grip, you keep your forearm pressed against his neck just long enough to pass out, considering for only a moment not letting go before his body drops at your feet.

Time is precious, and you waste none of it circling the front of the tent and entering before anyone can see you or notice the missing person. You enter with your dagger drawn, the hilt glinting in the lamplight, but your hand quickly falls when you see what's inside.

"Lix!" You whisper, dropping down next to the body on the ground.

Felix is laid down on a thin bedroll, an equally thin pillow under his head. Thankfully, you see his chest rising and falling with each breath, grateful he's alive. The wounds in his cheeks are patched up as well, only confusing you a little bit. Did he manage to do that before they found him- or did they do this? The fabric around his head is changed to some sort of gauze as well, answering your question.

The tent opening behind you has you back on your feet, breath releasing when you see it's just Han. His eyes land on you, then Felix, then back to you, seemingly checking you over.

"We need to get out of here," You whisper, kneeling back down to Felix. Pressing a hand against his cheek, you can feel how warm his skin is. "Something isn't right..."

"Ah-" The voice from behind you has you freezing again, then slowly turning your head to see Jisung standing between you and the orange haired man, slingshot drawn. "Could you put that down? I need to check on him."

The man is unfazed by your presence as he moves past Jisung, a wet towel in his hand. He drops beside you, paying you no mind as he begins lifting the patches off Felix's cheeks, gently dabbing the angry, red wounds with the damp fabric. Next, he brings out a small pouch from the inside of his-

"Why are you wearing a cloak?" You blurt, shuffling slightly away from him.

"Why aren't you?" He says, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he looks up at you. "Tell your friend to lower his weapon. Please."

"Only 'cause you asked so nicely," You sigh, standing and placing a hand on Jisung's arm, lowering your voice. "Chill for a second. We need to see what he knows."

Slowly, Jisung puts the slingshot away. "I'm trusting your guy, Y/n.”

You watch as he opens the pouch, dipping his fingers inside to collect some kind of paste that he slathers over Felix's cheeks. With a small wince, Felix opens his eyes, blinking rapidly as he takes in the scene. He sits up too quickly, hand clutching his head.

"Lix," You gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders to help keep him upright. "You're okay. These people-" You glance to the man next to you. "-they're helping us, helping you."

"Believe it or not," the man starts. "We aren't here to hurt you. Here, we don't attack unless provoked. My name is Yeonjun, I'm sort of like a leader here, we have a few just in case."

Just in case. He doesn't need to say more for you to know what he implies, especially with that other group of people who seem to have different intentions when it comes to strangers.

Yeonjun continues to bandage Felix, then stands and puts the pouch away. "If you'd like, feel free to join us for a meal."

You shoot Han a sideways glance, but the look on his face is very telling. Neither of you, nor Felix, have had a proper meal in a while, and your stomach growls quietly at the thought. Without further discussion, Yeonjun leads the three of you out of the tent. Some people stare at you as you pass them, clearly wondering both where you came from and what you're doing here.

"Hey!" From your left, someone shouts, anger clear in their voice. "You! You people!"

Yeonjun has a frown on his face when he turns around to see who is here to interrupt. His eyes lift to the sky and he breathes deeply as a brown-haired man marches up beside him. The man glares at you, then turns his body to whisper into Yeonjun's ear, his shaggy hair covering most of his face.

"Listen, you would have done the same," Yeonjun says, a little louder than the other man. That's when you notice the purple bruises forming on the other's neck, and you realize he was the one standing guard of Felix's tent.

"I'm sorry," You blurt, stepping forward. "Um, really. I thought you guys planned to hurt my friend. We aren't exactly used to people showing kindness."

The man looks over his shoulder to look at you, eyes trailing you up and down, studying you. You can tell he's assessing you- the way you're leaning more on your one side due to your injury, the dirt and scratches littering your body, the various knives strapped to your limbs and torso.

"I get it." His tone is a bit reluctant, but he turns to face you fully now. "I refuse to say Yeonjun is right in his presence, but yeah, maybe I would have assumed and done something similar in your position."

Some time passes and you learn his name is Beomgyu, one of the other 'sort of leaders' as Yeonjun put it. Gathered by the fire pit, you, Han, and Felix all scarf down the food you're given. After a few hasty bites, the plate of meat and vegetable makes your stomach churn slightly, reminded of what they served you back at the diner. Glancing over to Han, you sense he's thinking the same as he takes another bite, rolling the food around his mouth slowly before swallowing. You shuffle closer to him.

"At least we know what this stuff is, huh?" You try to joke lightly. Han flashes you a smile.

"True. If we didn't see that cow during the little tour Yeonjun gave us, I don't think I could eat this." Han makes a small face, looking back down at the plate.

The day turns into evening, and you know you need to get heading back to the dome. It only now occurs to you that these are the same people who have plans to scope out the dome, but now that you've interacted with them, maybe you can get them to call those plans off. Standing, you spot the man who was pointed out as their main leader, only here briefly before he has to go elsewhere.

"Soobin, could I speak to you?" You jog up to him after discarding your plate.

"Of course. Y/n, right?" Soobin offers a small smile, gesturing to walk with him; you do, falling into step easily. "Yeonjun mentioned you, Beomgyu too."

“I'm sure Beomgyu had lots to say," You laugh, shaking your head, but your smile falters, as do your steps. Soobin stops next to you, now a metres from the campsite. "I saw a map before we were attacked by Naevis."

Soobin's eyes widen slightly, but the rest of his expression gives nothing away. "A map?"

"Yeah, one of yours. There were a few places outlined as patrol routes and such." You shift on your feet, glancing around you before speaking again. "There was a dome on there, closer to the water. I need you to know there are people in there. I don't know how many, but there are people I care about who should be there now. It was marked to be scoped out."

"You want me to call it off," Soobin finishes for you. You nod. "It would be a valuable asset."

There's a tightening in your throat. He's going to say no.

“Maybe I can send a group out to see about trade negotiations instead," Soobin ponders, and you feel your breath returning to normal. "I'm sure they need that place more than we do. Is that where you and your friends need to return to?"

"Yes," You say a little too quickly. "Yeah, um, we need to get back as soon as possible. Do you know-"

A shout draws both of your attention, head snapping toward the sound. Before your eyes can find the target, an arrow whips past you, a sting lingering on your cheek from where it grazes you. Soobin pushes you toward the ground, a hand hovering above your back as he guides you toward the closest tent.

"Naevis?" You ask, voice higher than you want it to be.

"Yes," Soobin answers, voice low and rough. "Damn it."

Without another though, he dives forward to grab a bow leaning against a table, then pushes the table over to act as cover. You join him quickly, the sounds of fighting rising around you. Soobin pulls you close to him gently, the act causing heat to rush to your cheeks.

"Listen to me clearly," He talks quick, voice hushed. "Not too far from here is another collapsed, flooded road. Head that way-" He points to the direction across the camp. "-and you'll find a dock. There should be a boat, take it, return to your people. The river should take you the right way."

"Thank you," You breathe out, giving Soobin one final nod. "You didn't have to do this."

"I know," Soobin knocks an arrow into his bow. "Now go."

You dash across the campsite, what's close to a bloodbath happening around you.

Han is to your left helping someone injured, ripping bandages with his teeth and wrapping them quickly around their bleeding leg. Something about the action has your heart skipping, but you don't stop to question it. You need to get out of here and fast.

"Jisung!" You shout once you're close enough to him. He's just finishing tying the bandage. "Come on."

Grabbing his arm, he lets you lead him away from the fight, dragging Felix along when you pass by him too. The three of you flee, a small sense of guilt in the back of your head as the sounds fade away and are replaced by the rushing of water. You're breathing heavily by the time you reach the dock, untying the rope with some difficulty, the pain in your shoulder returning around your unhealed wound.

“Let me.” Han gently pushes you aside.

After the boat is untied, Han helps you and Felix into the boat while still holding the rope. Felix starts the motor as Han climbs in, but shouting behind him catches your attention. Looking up, you can see some members of Naevis running out of the woods you just came from, bows raised and arrows flying. One strikes you in the side, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood just to keep you from crying out.

Han has his slingshot out in seconds, sending the sharp rocks and debris he’s picked up the way. The distance makes it difficult for his shots to land, but it’s enough to hold them off from getting too close as you get away.

“Always getting shot by arrows,” Han mutters, turning his attention to you as soon as it’s safe to. “Stop that.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Your lips twitch up, but quickly twist to a grimace as Han breaks the arrow without warning. A hiss leaves your lips, and he says nothing as he helps you lie down in the boat, head resting against the seat. There’s a strange look on his face you can’t quite place.

“How far down the river is the dome?” Felix asks, keeping his eyes on the water.

“Kind of far,” You grit out, wincing as the boat moves. “But we should make it there fairly quickly given how- ah, how fast the current is. Is it normal to be seeing black dots everywhere?”

“You’re what?” Han sounds slightly panicked, eyes snapping to yours. “Don’t joke like that.”

“I’m not joking.”

With that, the world goes dark.

-

Minho feels like he’s been walking for ages.

The sky is clear now after the constant storming over the last couple nights, and he’s finally been able to slip away from the others to find you. Knowing he can’t just dive into the ravine you fell into, he wanders to the other side of the dome where a calmer river level to the broken concrete flows. By the time the sun is setting, he’s losing all hope of finding you. When the stars come out, he looks up with a small sigh, fingers finding the small charm hiding underneath the collar of his shirt.

That’s when he sees it. A boat coming his way, three passengers looking weary as they let the current guide them. Minho keeps to the underbrush until one of the faces becomes clear, tired eyes scanning over the forest lining the river.

“Felix?” Minho stands fully, jogging to the shoreline. “Hey!”

Felix squints and someone else he’s with looks up too- Han. In a few minutes, they’ve steered to the edge where Minho is waiting, one hand subconsciously on the hilt of the knife sitting on his hip. When he sees you lying on the floor of the boat, his stoic expression breaks. Blood seeps through bandages wrapped around your midsection, remnants of a broken arrow rolling around by your feet. There’s no time to think with the rate you’re bleeding out.

“I’ll take her. The dome-” Minho swallows, pointing down the river. “-it’s just a bit further. I can run.”

Han looks reluctant to let you go, but the urgency in Minho's voice scares him. Moments later, you’re in Minho’s arms and headed back to the dome. Sweat pours down his back as he races alongside the current, your blood soaking into his own shirt.

“Almost there,” Minho whispers, glancing down at you once the dome is in sight. You’re pale, too pale, and his heart drops. “Don’t you dare die on me. What is it you say to Seungmin? See you later?”

Minho barely slows to open the door. As he steps inside, all eyes are on him, but his are only on you.

“See you soon, okay?” Minho ignores the stares, rushing down the steps to where he knows Lily should be. “I promised I wouldn’t let you die.”

■

notes ▪︎ i am SO so so sorry it took so long for this to come out. i'll try to do better! tysm to those still reading

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam @hannieslovebot @minmininnie @8lives1heart @skzswife @emi-han @alisonyus @ateez-atiny380 @tirena1

bold means i can't tag you!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again. 

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[rebelliousstories]

Out and About

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Child!Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @that-teen2003

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 858

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

A vault suit sticks out like a sore thumb in the desert of the Wasteland. It was so bright, and blue, and very impractical for the harsh reality of the terrain. That is why when he saw it, Cooper’s interest was peaked. That and the cowboy hat the person sported much like his own. Because it was not even a fully grown human wearing the offending garment; it was a child.

The Ghoul looked around as the small being was wandering the rough terrain with cautious eyes. Surely this child was not alone. But it just kept exploring as if it had done it its entire life. He kept a safe distance as he followed the child, just hoping that this belonged to someone nearby. But no one ever came. No mom, no dad, no authority of any kind came to collect this child.

It was currently climbing inside of an old house when Cooper noticed how fast the sun was setting. There would be horrible things coming for that child in the dark of the night. He heard a crash, and immediately drew his gun before running inside the decrepit house. What he saw shocked him. There this little child was, nursing a small fire with a can of cram in its hands that it was eating.

In the firelight, Howard noticed that this small child was a girl, probably no older than six. It reminded him of his little Janey that remained as vivid as ever in his memory two hundred years later. Without consciousness, he began to move closer by did not see the empty can that was right in front of him. He accidentally kicked the object, sending it flying and clanging about the home which startled the child. She let out a yelp, and held her food closer to her chest as she stared at the new person with fear in her eyes. Cooper held out a hand to calm her down, and placed his gun back on his hip. She moved closer to see who the new man was.

“Whoa.” She breathed out and nearly dropped her food. There was no fear left in her eyes after comprehending The Ghoul before her. Suddenly, she was up on her feet and ran straight to the man who was utterly confused. Even with him crouched, she only came up to his chest. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around him.

“It’s you! It’s you,” came her exclamation. Her voice trailed off as she settled but Cooper was stiff as a board. Pulling the child away, he looked at her closer. She was thin and sunburnt from surviving the Wasteland but her teeth looked good still.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, little one?” Cooper’s hairless brow furrowed as he knelt down to be on her level.

“You’re Cooper Howard. You’re da sheriff from T.V.” Her toothy grin showed. There were a couple missing, but she did not seem to care. Taking off her hat, she passed it to the man with all the innocence only a child cold have.

“Can you sign dis, please?”

That one ask broke him inside. He felt his heart shattering. It had been so long since someone had asked him to do that; he had completely forgotten the feeling. This little child had thawed his blackened heart in a matter of seconds.

“Where you from darlin’? Why you out here all by yourself lonesome and not with your momma?” Cooper chose to avoid her question, knowing that he did not have any instrument to sign the hat. The child, whose name was still a mystery, looked down at her feet that were kicking around sand before she answered.

“My mommy was behind me, den she wasn’t. She told me to run, so I did cause Mommy said I have to listen to her widout question here. I don’t know where she is.” Again, The Ghoul felt his heart break. Chances were, that woman was long dead and chose to spare her child the same fate. It seemed to have worked, but the could not have been out of the vaults long.

“Well, little one. What’s your name? Seein’ as you know mine,” said Cooper. He tried to smile kindly and not scare off the child, although she seems to not be the slightest bit afraid. She supplied her name, and took a much needed bite of food.

“Can I stay with you? It’s scary up here alone.” Even without those puppy eyes she was giving, Cooper already knew his answer. He nodded and walked over to the fire once more. Sitting with his back to the wall, Howard added some more tinder to the fire and was shoved slightly. The girl had moved his arm so that she was curled up against his side, with her head on his chest. Her can of food was empty and discarded as she drifted off to sleep.

Muscle memory kicked in. Cooper checked her breathing, and looked around for any potential threats lurking. With his gun at the ready, he slipped into a light sleep with a little girl on his chest once more.

[dishwashersafearm]

Take Me To Church REDUX: Biker! Bucky x Reader Fic Teaser

Before you read:

Yes, a few of you may remember this fic from a while back! I originally wrote this as a one shot request, which i ended up turning into a full fic.. or at least trying to, before i stupidly deleted my account.

This is a redux of that old fanfic. New characters, better writing. I'm posting a teaser mostly so I can put out some feelers for it and clear some potential discourse (if any lol)

And reminder, RECS ARE OPEN <3

A big thank you to @moongoddessmox for requesting this one shot all them years ago <3

-Peach

Pairing: Biker! Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Reader escapes from their abusive, criminal underworld boyfriend, and falls into the hands of one Bucky Barnes. Notable Biker Gang Leader who'd do anything to keep his club at the top. He swears he's seen her before.

Word count: N/A, this is a teaser

Warnings: Graphic violence, depictions of abuse, murder, strong language. Light smut to come. MinorsDNI

Genesis

''James Barnes is a force to be reckoned with.''

That's what followed him everywhere he went. Even as he did the most mundane things, like pump gas, or slip the out-of-town mortician a few crisp Franklins, the cupped whispers and cleared streets trailed behind him like the black smoke that now billowed out of his Harley Davidson.

''Fuck..'' Barnes muttered through clenched teeth, clawing his fingers over his sharp stubble. He turned and kicked the air in sheer annoyance, a hand rummaging around in his cut to find his phone.

It was an ancient thing; albeit had nothing wrong with it. This was just yet another phone that was bought to be thrown away after the job. A few dollars dropped that would pay for itself tenfold later down the line.

''Fuckin' thing.. c'mon..'' grunted the male, inconvenienced. Squinting at the phone, (he was never that adept with technology), and jamming his fingers onto the jelly like keypad, he lifted the phone to his ear with a deep sigh. A few rings.. A few more.. there.

''Bucky, where the hell are you man?'' A disembodied voice complained on the other side. ''You were supposed to be here an hour ago!''

''Yeah well it's not gonna work like that this time…'' Barnes grumbled, crunching down onto the raised tarmac. Hovering over from different angles with his tongue stuck between his teeth for a moment, he sucked in a sharp intake of air and conceded, one handedly slipping a straight in between his lips. After a few scraping turns of his trusty Zippo lighter and that all noticeable hiss, Bucky exhaled a cloud of smoke before finally speaking. ''…Alpine's engines gone bust. Started sputtering halfway down the street.''

''Well that's great. Y'know I told you to-''

''Yeah I know, Sam. But I didn't.''

A stretched groan was heard through the phone as Sam seemed to walk a few steps. ''Walker. With me. Bucky can't make it.'' Followed by an echoed collection of muttered complaints and grievances from what sounded not at all shockingly like Sergeant At Arms John Walker, Sam returned to the phone. ''You know Mr Zemo ain't gonna like this, right?''

The crackling of burning cigarette paper followed for a few seconds before the familiar crunching of the littered sidewalk under Bucky's boots.

''Yeah. I know.''

The bar stood decrepit, hazily lit under the flickering light of a broken streetlamp which wheezed out its last dying, fizzing breaths. Weeds of all shapes and sizes sprouted out of the cracks along the pavement, colouring them dotted shades of sickly green and dark basil. Glass and dirt crunched under your feet as you unsteadily scuffed along the pathway.

You definitely weren't going to stay there. It wasn't something you'd do in a million years, even with a gun to your head. Your past ache for sanctuary had immediately been forgotten when you had turned onto this glorified back alley, but your legs.. nay- your entire body, how it ached and throbbed with every step. You just wanted to sleep. Your head hurt, and a horrible mix of dirt and sweat, once slick, now stuck to your body uncomfortably as it saturated your skin.

But you had to go somewhere. You'd been saving up enough to leave a living nightmare for months, scrounging up every last penny of what was given to you as your 'allowance' every two weeks. Anything your boyfriend gave, you sold for as much as you could get. It's not as if he'd notice anyway. He was too busy screwing any woman he could get his hands on. That was his 'thing' now. He'd come home from whatever he was doing, whenever he saw fit, and with whoever he wanted, and you were just on the sideline. That was, of course, until he remembered you existed. It would either come to him like some 16th century religious premonition, or something would tick him off.. and when he was ticked off- he was something to fear.

It started off verbal. Name calling, insults, shouting sessions. When you had the confidence to argue back it would turn physical, and he wasn't one to hold back. At it's worst you'd be debilitated, left on the floor to sob whilst he'd go to drink and fuck his new girl. A few times you'd suffered broken bones, which you'd be left to deal with yourself, or until he felt you were worthy enough to be helped. At its best, it was a couple of bruises. For that, you were grateful.

The only upside to this nightmare was that you had never needed to work a day in your life when you were with him, the man having carved himself a life of luxury through crime and unspeakable violence. As bad as it sounded, you were shielded from that side of his life- your boyfriend wasn't one to mix business and pleasure like that. He never came home bloody, his shirts always ironed smooth and freshly starched. Weapons were deposited before entering the front door, and he'd never come home drunk. Most of the girls he bought home were peace offerings from whoever the other sickos he dealt with were.

So you left. Enough was enough. The sound of a chiming clock was all you had heard as you fisted a roll of notes into your pocket. That was all you took, all you needed. It had just turned midnight- hardly the safest time to escape an abusive relationship, but you knew that you had to get out now. Every instinct was fighting, clawing at the pit in your stomach to leave before it was too late, before he would return home and drag you back into this hellhole.

Taking mouse-like breaths in an attempt to save your lungs from more pain, you continued down the street. You weren't sure whether the smell was coming from you or the bar as you edged closer. It stank, like caked on mold or the way that a bar toilet smells in the early hours of a Sunday. An acrid, bleach under toned shit and piss stench attacked your nostrils; your nose wrinkling.

The swing of a staunch wooden set of doors alerted you to action. As the doors slammed open you could hear a raucous cacophony of voices, accompanied by what sounded like a brawl. Glass clinked and shattered simultaneously, chairs emulating that of nails on chalkboards; screeching across the floor. Without hesitation, you backed into an alley, shrouding yourself in darkness, watching with baited breath. At least you had a reason to stop and rest, no matter what caused it.

''I'll get it to you, man..'' You heard a guy slur, flicking his hand dismissively as he stumbled back. Following after him was two undescriptive figures. Seemingly unbothered by the blonds demands, the drunkard began to walk away, to which you caught a glimpse of the other two. One was rather scruffy looking, blonde hair tousled and unkept, his beard scraggly and uneven. The other was young.. too young. He looked just 17, his frame thin and lanky. He was wringing his hands together, a few steps behind the stockier man. ''Relax. You guys ask too much..''

''We ask too much?'' The other responded incredulously. He too was swaying, but seemed to be powered by something other than alcohol. The anger was taking over. Under the dim lighting, you could just make out his hand curling around something under his jacket, and your breath hitched in your throat, unable to avert your gaze. ''You're the one that owes us money, you junkie.' He spat, teeth bared. ''You've taken the fucking piss with it.''

''Can't we just let him go?'' The smaller figure interjected, voice wavering. You could tell, even from so far away, that he didn't want to be here. You knew the feeling. He seemed nervous, squirming and switching pressure between feet, antsy. ''We could always get him tomorrow, y'know?' This is looking a bit too Godfather for me..''

''Shut up, Parker.'' Hissed the man, voice poison. ''You've never seen that movie.'' You watched as he shot this 'Parker' a sour look, then grabbed the drunk man's shirt collar, whispered something to him, and then threw him to the floor. The man, looking as if he had the fear of God struck into him, scrambled to get up from all fours.

''F-Fuck you man.. you're sick..'' He stuttered, stumbling a little as he retreated. His features were contorted, you thought, whether that be by the swathe of bone chilling fear that had washed over his body, or by the harsh light that illuminated his picasso-esque features.

''Oh I'm sick?'' The scruffy blonde spoke. 'You sold everything you had to fund your disgusting drug habit.' He stepped forward with every sentence. 'Your car.' Step. 'Your house.' Another Step. 'Your family.'

Stung by his words, the unnamed addict turned, a wizened finger stretching out. A chewed stump of a nail pointing out at him. ''Aren't you the one who lost yours? Got left by your own wife?''

You watched as the other unearthed his hand from beneath his jacket without another word, and you saw the distinct shape of a Glock. His thumb grazed the back of it, flicking down and cocking the gun. ''Keep my families' name out of your fucking mouth.'' Gasping softly, you hid yourself behind the wall a little more, biting your tongue to ensure silence.

What the fuck had you just gotten yourself into?

Bang.

You heard a strangled cry, and the sound of a body hitting the floor with a grotesque, dry crunch. You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing back the acidic vomit that rose in your throat.

Immediately, the man was gone. A Life snuffed out in seconds. You couldn't stop thinking about it.

''Get inside, kid.'' The blonde man spoke numbly a few seconds after, throwing his thumb behind him and toward the door. He shoved his choice of murder weapon back into his coat, eyes scanning the now quiet street with furrowed brows. You weren't sure what had happened, but you heard a quieting footfall and breathed a sigh of relief. You turned on your heel, looking into the darkness of the alley. It was either that you walked past a dead body on your way out- something you had seen before but would rather not see again- or walked unknowingly into the alley, not knowing where, or if, it would lead. Thank God, at least, there was some kind of cover in this place, no matter how it reeked. Heart pounding in your chest, you breathed shallowly, sinking down into a squat as the last echoes of the gunshot rang out loud and true.

Your racing thoughts were stopped abruptly by a rough hand grabbing onto your arm, spinning you around.

It was him. The blonde man from before. He reeked of alcohol, and a light smattering of blood coated his face and hair.

''Well.. Hey there sweetheart. I think you and I need to have a little chat.''

[screwzara]

Reflecting Memories

The area was shrouded in darkness with only the faint winds and echoes of her own footsteps accompanying her. If only she hadn't gotten separated from the team, maybe then she wouldn't be navigating the dark alone. Sure, she could use magic but she had a feeling she'd be playing right into its tricks if she did so.

So, here she was, fumbling about in the dark. She wandered the catacombs blindly, tentacles and arms poking around as she moved forward. She was beginning to regret acting so quickly, rushing after the prick that dared to insult her earlier, directly into the catacombs that SHE had warned the party to refrain from entering.

“I’m a dumbass”, she groaned to herself after nearly tripping over some rocks. Quickly recovering from the inconvenience, she huffed, she would really love a lit up room right about now. It took her perhaps an hour or two before she finally stumbled her way into a dimly lit, eerie room.

She looked around, slightly suspicious, the torch on the wall flickered with the gentle breeze blowing through the halls. The room was…decrepit, as expected of old catacombs. “Awww, that would've been cute if it wasn't rotting”, she sighed as spotted a small, old, rotting wooden table nearby.

She stepped towards the wall with the torch & floated up, grabbing it off its little station and shifting the torch to one of her tentacles. She was gonna be stuck in here for a while, might as well explore a little. She continued floating around, now that she had a light source, she didn't plan on tiring herself so quickly. Floating was always less tiring than walking for some odd reason, but she wasn't complaining.

Room after room, she searched for maybe a map of the place, or perhaps even some items that might prove useful to her while she’s stuck in here. But she found nothing, just rags, old crumbling furniture and the occasional skeleton. “Guess I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way”, playing it's game, that was the plan, “Hm, let's see, what would it want me to find?”.

It was a curious thing, her memory. Sometimes she’d blurt out information not even she had been aware of, often times having to make excuses as to why she even knew all of that to begin with. It confused her.

Knowledge of this catacomb was one such instance of her memories acting up. A spirit whose soul was eternally bound to the catacomb, forever a trickster in the labyrinth that it created when it was alive. It loved it's games. Her memories may be confusing but they were useful, and she wasn't gonna complain about it any time soon.

The fire on the torch didn't seem end, kept alive by what was likely the magic of the lingering soul in the catacombs. The search was boring, the tiles on the walls falling apart further as she proceeded deeper into the darkness, every room she encountered almost seemed like a copy of the previous, making it hard to distinguish between the rooms.

But at least the voices aren’t ly- what. She straightened up, she had been absentmindedly following voices. “...shit”, she mumbled as she looked around, alert this time. The voices whispered ever so slightly louder once she realised what was happening. Turning back wasn't an option when everything looked basically the same.

After a tense pause, she finally continued moving. Ugh, maybe that prick from earlier was one of it's tricks to lure her in. Well, she fell for it, bravo.

She finally came across a unique room, the ceiling seemed to stretch up infinitely and the natural light seemed to pour into the area from it but she couldn't see where the light was actually coming from. The room was fairly big and since it was lit up, she decided to return the torch to one of its little stations on the nearby wall again.

The furniture was dirty, the musky smell prominent. Old shelves with books and trinkets long forgotten covered half the room’s wall. There was a carpet, big, lavish, an intricate design woven into it. But it didn't matter when it was filthy and left to rot here. There was a desk or two scattered in the room, a broken vase with withered flowers laying in it.

But the most intriguing thing? “Pretty mirror you got here, what century is this from?”, she commented out loud. In the middle of the room stood a full body mirror, detailed head to toe with what appeared to be mimicry of ripples in the water and flowers of an unknown kind, carefully carved into a vibrant wooden frame. It seemed rooted to the floor.

“...was this what you wanted me to find?”, she asked, partly hoping the spirit would actually hear her. The mirror was oddly pristine & untouched, new. Yeah, this probably was what the spirit would want her to find. She floated up to it, watching her reflection within with interest. She hummed, then tapped its face. The clink of the mirror against her finger felt satisfying, “Huh.”, perplexed she waved at the reflection. Nothing was out of the ordinary so why was this mirror here?

She shrugged, “Maybe it's something else?”, turning away from the mirror she made her way towards the wall she put the torch on. Except, the room had…changed? The section of the wall she had wanted to go to was gone, in its place stood nothing. Absolutely nothing but a void. Unease began to bubble in her, she placed herself back on her feet. She glanced around, tense, and noticed how the darkness seemed to slowly seep in, as if it was actively engulfing her surroundings.

She heaved a breath she finally let go of, calming herself before looking around. The light that overcast the room began to dim as the abyss encroached further. The walls behind the mirror were already gone, the floor almost completely sunken into darkness. “What..?”, she grew anxious, nervously zooming around what area has been left untouched by the darkness to try and find a way out.

But the abyss had no end, hungry & yet it devoured what was left of her surroundings with such patience.

She bumped into the face of the mirror as the last of the floor got engulfed, the ceiling was gone, it was pitch black again. “I- Ok, so you want me traumatised. That’s just GREAT-”, something grabbed her shoulder, and yanked her into the mirror.

It happened fast. It felt like she was underwater, and though she was still in an abyss, she could see. She could see someone. She instinctively reached out.

She gasped, breathing slightly uneven as she sat on…something. The void was ever present, but this time, looking down as she caught her breath, she saw her reflection. “...w-what?”, if she had physical eyes, she would've been blinking in confusion. Her hand went to touch the surface of the plane she sat on, on contact, it rippled as if it were water. Her reflection stared back at her.

But.

No, wait.

Who was that? She’s not a huma-

She frantically looked around, reeling from the sudden shift. Her body felt lighter, “Are you alright ████?”, she finally paid attention to who stood in front of her. “I…I’m... I merely remembered something, I feel adequate enough”, huh. Her speech changed? “If you say so.”, he appeared suspicious of her, but let it go.

Why couldn't she comprehend his face?

She screeched, loudly, painfully, as she suddenly felt herself immersed in what she could only assume was blood. It stung, it burned, why was she suddenly here? She frantically tried to swim up but something held her down, “█████-”, despite being under, her voice rang clear.

Whose name was she yelling? Who was she screaming to?

“█████ please-”, it burned, if she could cry, she would’ve. She screamed but nothing seemed to work. Voices began to chew at her, her senses already overworked from the sensation of being burned alive inside what was essentially acid.

“█████ ███ y██ ███e?”

“██████ ████ █ ████ ██ t██ ████ ███”

“█████████ █████ ██k█ ██ █████ ████”

“You’re awfully quiet today”, he hummed in confusion.

“I-”

Everything fell apart.

Where did it go wrong?

This could have gone so differently.

Why did you █████ this?

There was ██ much y██ could’ve ██n█.

Why did you ██ ████ █████

Why █o███ ███ █o th█s ██ ███

███ ███ ███ ████ ██ █████

And then, “...o we go?”, the voices, the whispers, she realised, had ceased… That…voice. She moved, her tentacles wrapping around the arms of whom held her at that moment. The voice gasped, “Guys, I think she’s awake”, yeah, that chippy voice was definitely Ink’s. “Good lord, Scry, can you hear us?”, asked the very concerned voice of Marcus.

“Scry?”, called out another, his tone firm yet soft as he put his hand on her globby form. A tentacle moved to pat Celtic's hand back, it moved slow & lethargically. “...You should rest”, was all he hummed as he gave her a reassuring pat and then removed his hand.

…They’ll definitely chide her about this…

…

Should she tell them what she saw? Who she… saw?

…

Whatever, she’ll deal with that when she feels better. Her globby form curled into Ink’s arms as the party made their way through the forest.

“████████ █████ ████ █ ████ ███ ███ ████ ██ ████”

RPG! AU & Celtic belong to @aesopsbaby

RPG!Ink belongs to @boiling-potato

Marcus belongs to @imma-sue-you-becky

First Post

A Risk To Take, Gladly Taken

Side Notes:

I wrote down Celtic, Marcus & Ink's responses since I'm most familiar with these three at the moment -u-'

I was very upset when writing this so this might be very emotionally charged lol

Anyways so RPG!Ink was the one who found RPG!Scry, in her globby form, in the middle of a clearing in the forest. Reason being, that catacomb was obviously of mystical nature and it sort of teleports around like how you see in all those fantasy medias

Also, despite RPG!Scry not actually being injured, the sensation of literally being dumped into what is basically acid for her stuck so if I ever follow up on the events of this oneshot, she's pretty much gonna be immobile and globby for the whole thing lmao

[d-issect]

he is exhausted, tired from running for what seemed an eternity. without so much a choice, his silhouette slips through a home's open door, he wastes no time by slamming it shut. one broomstick's crown neatly snugged underneath the door's handle, that'd buy him a couple minutes. the man wipes away a bead of sweat from his temple before navigating the old homes innards; dark, dusty, decrepit like any old person forgotten in a nursing center.

hasty footwork coax his lithe silhouette past the messy kitchen, right into a cold embrace of what should've once been a warm living room. he needs to leave, find safety away from the mad village but . . . just like any other thing, he is far too tired. daan sits on the rat-chewed sofa, just for a minute. @fristerinne ✉ abella

[spookikookiboo]

Officer Dunn -FNAF Alternate Universe

@pudim-16-world asked " How does Dunn possess Glamrock Freddy in this AU?"

This was a really good question and one I wanted to tackle in semi-comic form. The version of events that lead to Officer Dunn possessing Glamrock Freddy are ones I have put my own twist on based loosely on the FNAF novel The Silver Eyes by Kira Breed-Wrisley and Scott Cawthon.

In my opinion Officer Dunn was a character that had a lot of potential and had an excellent base for true and meaningful motives that could have driven him and the FNAF lore forwards.

I’ll start with some background. Officer Robert ‘Bobby’ Dunn was new to the department in Hurricane, Utah. At the start of his career he had taken on a number of cold cases. One of which being Hurricane Utah’s most infamous, the disappearances of 5 children at local pizzeria, Freddy Fazbear’s.

Bobby dug into the evidence surrounding the events that transpired. He began investigating further, which led him to the doorstep of the then closed building that had once been operating as the restaurant in question. He made multiple trips to Freddy Fazbear’s and was able to uncover old files, blueprints of the building among other documents. All of which aided in fleshing out missing details from the original report.

The chief of police found out about Bobby’s ventures and advised against his continued digging. He was worried for his officer’s safety in a building that was legally condemned by the city. Despite this however Dunn returned to the restaurant, feeling he needed to take one last look.

It was raining hard the night Officer Dunn arrived at the rundown establishment. Upon going inside he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Bobby made his way to the back office, in the hopes of retrieving files that may have been left behind. Employee records, spreadsheets, checkbooks, anything.

The next thing he knew his throat felt like it was burning and he couldn't breathe. The last thing he saw…was a rabbit. Decrepit and laughing wildly as it loomed over him while he bled out on the dirty checkered floor. Bobby’s world went dark… The moment that he was self aware he found himself standing in that office. With no concept of how much time had passed or- what happened to him. Thinking it had all been a strange dream he attempted to leave but each time he tried he would wind up right back where he started… in the office.

Bobby soon met them. The little ones. The children who had gone missing. First there was one…the bravest. Then there were two. Soon he was in the presence of more.

They were scared...Bobby realized almost like he had forgotten- that they were the reason he had come here. Any relief Bobby had felt by finding them evaporated when he realized they were like him. Gone…just not entirely.

Over time Bobby gained their trust, learned their names and heard their stories.

Each child had met the same golden rabbit dressed in purple who lured them away from their families and led them to their end. Bobby promised them that no matter what happened… he would protect them. He would not leave them and that somehow…he would see justice carried out.

They stuck together from that day forward, becoming some version of a family. Bobby had always wanted children and they needed him. The officer took it upon himself to ensure nothing happened to any of them. The children showed him the suits that their bodies had been hidden inside of. One of them… the bravest, had excitedly shown how he could manipulate the robot itself. Making it talk and do exactly as he wanted rather than whatever it had been programmed to do.

The Animatronics were their safe space, the item they felt secure to hide away in. Bobby, having not been stuffed into a suit at his end, had the freedom to move about where he saw fit…on an endless security patrol. After all, he had no reason to hide.

The case files that Bobby had looked into, stated that five children had gone missing from the Pizzeria but he had only met four. Gabriel who resided within Bonnie, Susie who remained within Chica, Fritz who hid inside of Foxy and Cassidy who took up residence inside Freddy. Cassidy was the only child who ever hid from Bobby, wanting nothing to do with him. She was aloof and untrusting. Angry and spiteful. She had died on her birthday and she definitely asserted herself to be the ringleader of the others at least for a time.

At first Cassidy would use the Freddy suit like the others but eventually she seemed to vanish entirely. Losing interest in the suit like a child outgrowing a toy. They all looked for her but never came back to them. It almost seemed as though she did not want to be found.

Bobby had thought maybe she had…passed on. Moved on, perhaps found peace? At least that is always what he had hoped was true. Though he was not entirely sure, sometimes he thought he could still hear her. Eventually with her absence persisting and the children wishing him to stay closer to them Bobby begain to occupy the Freddy Animatronic.

He has been inside every sense. Every rendition the mascot has undertaken , every upgrade. It's still him. Hiding like the rest of them. In plain sight but unseen.

Over the past forty years Dunn was able to put together the full story. Which quickly became stranger than fiction .

One of the founders of Fazbear Entertainment, William Afton, was responsible for the murder and disappearance of the children, Officer Dunn and countless others who had worked for the company. He was tried and acquitted of all charges…found not guilty by the courts due to the lack of evidence. Meaning he got away with it. He got away with all the lives he stole.

The justice system failed…but karma seemed to come back around for Afton. In a fitting twist of fate that man who had dismembered and stuffed the bodies of small children into the suits of animatronics met his end inside of one. He died…but he didn’t leave. He remained inside that crumpled bunny suit until Bobby walked into that office. Giving him a new victim.

William Afton’s soul lives on…free from meeting the justice for his actions and free to continue his twisted experiments within the catacombs of the pizzaplex. The children’s souls can not truly be at rest until he is gone for good and Officer Dunn has sworn to put an end to this cycle once and for all. Protecting everyone to the best of his ability, as he swore to do when he first donned the badge.

~Spooki🖤

[squashedpotatoe4]

His princess and her beast - Part 1

[ clint x oc ] - when a new woman moves to Stardew Valley, the local blacksmith's life completly changes word count: ~2600 words

notes: had to join all the previous parts to make one big intro so sorry for the confussion although I may extend it in the future

The night was dark when the bus drove through the mist. It was nearly empty, only the driver and a young woman were inside it. The woman seemed nervous, almost scared. After 2 hours of travel, the bus finally reached its final destination: Stardew Valley. A remote village that very few people knew of. The perfect place to escape.

The woman quickly got off as soon as the bus stopped, grabbing her only bag and stepping onto the muddy ground. With nowhere to go, she wandered around the town. A small hospital, a shop, a museum… and most importantly, a big old abandoned building with its doors wide open.

She looked around to make sure no one was looking before stepping in, the old wooden boards creaking under her feet. Her body warmed up, finally sheltered from the wind. She carelessly left her bag on a corner of the decrepit kitchen and sat down next to it, swiftly nodding off to sleep.

She dreamt of flashing cameras, of paparazzi, of rehearsals. She dreamt of the life she desperately wanted to escape. She dreamt a lot, although she usually called it a nightmare.

She quickly stirred away when she heard the loud creaking of the wooden floors. There was someone else in the building. Before she could react, an old man walked in. He seemed shocked, his bushy brows rising.

“Who are you?” He seemed worried but also angry, so she didn’t answer right away.

“I…I’m so sorry. I needed a place to sleep and…I’ll leave right now please don’t call the police” She hastily got up and grabbed her bag, already preparing to walk away.

“You seem familiar. Do I know you?”

She felt her heart drop, swiftly covering her face with her short hair. Before he could ask more questions, she ran out of the room. She kept running until she found a lonely train station. Her heart was racing, both from the exercise and the shock. This couldn’t be happening.

She tried and tried to escape, but it never seemed to work. Was there really a place she could escape to?

When her head finally stopped spinning, she thought to herself. The embarrassment hit her all at once. Why was she acting like a child again? Why did she never face her problems and try to run away from them?

The night passed as she fell asleep from exhaustion on the rusty bench. Her whole body hurt, cramping from the uncomfortable position. The pain finally woke her up, her joints popping when she got up from her ‘bed’.

She made the decision to change her life, and she couldn’t back down now. And the first step would be to find an acceptable place to live. She thought she was confident enough to try to find the mayor and talk with him, but the second she saw the town square ‘filled’ with people, she immediately backed down. Maybe another day, she thought, there’s always tomorrow. But the next day the same thing happened. And again. And again.

She sat down at the train station, exhausted after another day of trying and failing.

“Maybe I could go at night? But then I’d be waking up the mayor. Maybe at noon? But people would be coming back from work! Fuck!” She laid down on the bench, her purple hair being stained with rust.

The only person she had talked to since she came to the village was that old man back at the abandoned building, and that was barely a conversation.

She needed to find a way because she couldn’t just live off of dirty fruit she found on the ground forever. She needed to stop being a coward and ‘just do it without thinking’, like her mother often said to her.

She still remembered those days. They weren’t so far off to have forgotten them. There were days where she felt like she couldn’t move, yet she needed to keep going until everyone else thought it was enough. Her days back at Zuzu city were a nightmare, both physically and mentally, but she couldn’t complain. She chose that life. A life not many could ever dream of. And yet here she was, running away like a coward. A selfish brat. A spoiled child. ...

Autumn finally ended, which meant she had to make a move. She couldn’t just stay outside in the freezing cold. She didn’t really have a choice but to face her problems. The town was fairly empty today, only two kids running around the town square. She could handle kids, right? I mean, they were much easier than adults. Adults lie and trick you, kids don’t. They are the only ones that were ever honest to her. She felt a bit safer with them. Only a bit tho, but it was better than nothing.

She quietly walked through the street, hiding behind the houses in case anyone walked near. When she finally reached the mayor’s house, she saw an old man caring for the, now withered, flowers. It was the same man she had talked to before at the abandoned building. This couldn’t be more embarrassing. Why did it have to be him specifically? Why did she have such bad luck?

“Ummm…Good morning! I don’t think we’ve met before” She spoke, trying to put on her best smile. Maybe if she acted as if they hadn’t seen each other before, he would forget about it. “Oh, you’re the new girl who just moved in! Well, not exactly moved in. Gus asked me about bringing you a blanket or two but I wasn’t sure if we’d be intruding” She froze in shock. They knew she was there? Had they seen her? Did she not hide well enough? What if they were all talking about her? What would they even say? “My name is Lewis, by the way. I’m the mayor of Pelican Town” The old man, or rather Lewis, seemed very proud of his title, smiling to himself. He acted a lot like her father, at least from what she had seen. Their mannerisms and vocabulary were similar.

“My name’s Vivian! I actually wanted to see you” She almost stuttered from the nerves, trying desperately to calm her own heart rate. Speaking to another human being could not be so hard.

“Oh, Vivian. Like the famous actress! What was it that you needed to see me for?”

Her face turned bright red and her eyelids twitched wildly.

“I was wondering if I could stay somewhere, like a hotel! Or just shelter in general”

“You mean somewhere like the community centre? It’s pretty run down. I don’t know how you managed to sleep in a place like that” He laughed, as if saying something absurd. Although, to be honest, she herself didn’t know how she managed to sleep in a place like that. Maybe it was exhaustion, and the weirdness of being in an entirely new place.

“Either way, I think the new farmer has some space on his farm. Perhaps he would trade you a bed for some working time. He has a lot of work to do since he just moved in a few months ago and that farm is in absolute shambles!”

“I guess I could talk to him then. Thank you for your help, Sir”

His ears immediately perked up, as if he had just tasted the sweetest honey. He smiled widely and patted her back.

“I think I’m starting to like you” He laughed audibly and went back to caring for the, now very obviously dead, flowers.

She slowly walked back to the bench she now called home. One more thing checked off her list. Now all she needed to do was repeat the cycle again until she managed to talk to the farmer. At least the farm was not as close to the town square as the mayor’s house. She could easily avoid other people when walking there. Maybe that’d help.

...

The way to the farm would be all muddy if it wasn’t for the thick layer of snow that covered the ground. The boots that Lewis had lended her were completely submerged. The cold was killing her, the winter coat she had bought before leaving home being her only source of warmth. She slowly reached the front door to the rundown cabin that Lewis had told her the farmer was living at. She knocked three times on the door before patiently waiting for an answer. A tall man opened the door, very visible dark circles around his eyes. He didn’t seem too happy about having a stranger at his door, but didn’t make it too obvious. He stared at her for a few seconds before sighing “So, what did you need? Vegetables? Fish? Ores? What is it this time?” She seemed confused, not knowing what to say. He spoke as if he was the office boy of the whole town. “Ummm…I just wanted to ask if I could stay with you. Maybe on your couch. I’ll work for you! I know how to…umm…cook?” He arched a brow, a tiny bit surprised.

“That isn’t a terrible idea. But I don’t really know who you are” He was very suspicious of her and her motives. Although taking into account the situation, it was pretty normal.

“Oh right. My name’s Vivian and I come from Zuzu city. I came here a few weeks ago” “And why did you come here when you had no place to stay? Hiding from someone?” With her nervousness and how she tried to avoid his question, his suspicions grew more. But his curiosity seemed to do too. “I just wanted to live in a quieter place. The city is way too crowded” She tried to lighten up the mood with a joke, but he didn't seem amused “I could have guessed. That’s why they’re called cities”

She was used to people treating her like an angel on earth, so his attitude shook her a little. She left so people didn't treat her differently, but the feeling was still foreign to her. 

“...I’m guessing you won’t answer my previous question? Well, I don’t really care. I have a small shed on the other end of the farm that I’m not going to use for a while. You can do you stuff there.” “Thank you! Thank you so much!” She grabbed his hands and shook  them profusely. He looked down at her with a bit of disgust before trying to get her off of him. “Don’t thank me. If I had something to do on that shed, you’d be sleeping with the dogs” She was starting to be a bit scared of him, but at the same time, he was giving her a place to sleep so she couldn’t complain. The way to the shed had gone wild a long time ago, ivies crawling around inside the small room. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her. Just like back at the so called ‘community centre’, she set her things on a corner and began to work on cleaning up a bit.  She got a few scraps all over when trying to move the old furniture outside. Since it was already rotten and had termites all over she guessed that the farmer didn’t need them.

Now that she thought about it, he never really told her his name. He came a few months before her, yet not even the mayor knew his name or where he came from. She could ask, but seeing how abrasive he was, she didn’t expect an answer.

When she finally sat down, the wooden boards from the floor broke in half, letting all of the dust that had collected fly into the air, making her cough profusely. For a fleeting moment she thought of home. Her warm comfy bed, the delicious meals her chefs used to make… Maybe she shouldn't have left, but now there was no way back. She had to make the most out of it.

...

The farm was in complete shambles, but some things could be saved. A small coup near the main house was full of trash, but could still be saved. Maybe with some nails, glue and paint it could be fixed. I mean, she had absolutely no idea how to repair anything, especially something that large, but she was going to give it a shot.

She was just about to finish ‘fixing’ the feeders when a large piece of wood dropped form the ceiling onto her foot. Luckily it was as light as a feather due to the termites that had infested nearly the entire farm, but it still hurt. From her loud scream both of pain and shock, the farmer quickly ran into the small room.

“Oh my Yoba. I leave you alone for a second!” He took a breather and quickly changed his tone. “Is your foot okay? Maybe we should go check it with Harvey”

“Harvey?”

“The town doctor. Do you think I’d take you to some random person’s house?”

The town square was still a foreign place to her, having to be guided by the farmer around. The small blue house in front of her was clearly the hospital, having a tiny blue cross on the top of the door frame. When they walked inside they were hit with a strong smell of coffee and cleaner, almost to the point of making her a bit sick. Maybe if she was a coffee lover she’d like it, but it clearly wasn’t the case.

A young woman quickly attended to them, seeing the old bandages wrapped around Vivian’s foot.

“I’ll bring doctor Harvey. Do you think you can walk to the stretcher?”

“I think so. Really, it isn’t that bad. It just hurts a little. I don’t want to waste your time”

The nurse looked at her and to the door behind her.

“We will still take a look, we wouldn’t want to have you walk around with a broken foot”

It only took a few moments before the doctor came to see her. He looked too young to be a doctor, or at least the ones she was used to. Well, she hadn’t seen much. Plus, her parents were really picky when it came to her health, so it wasn’t weird that they only picked the most experienced of the bunch.

The doctor carefully inspected her foot, moving it around slightly to see if she was in any pain.

“I think it's just a slight bruise. It’ll go away in a few days. You should still be careful and try to not put too much pressure on it.”

The farmer, whose name she still didn’t know, nodded and walked up to him, already pulling up his wallet.

“How much will this cost?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t let you pay! I’m already in enough debt with you”

He looked at her with a look of disappointment and back at the doctor.

“It’ll be about…umm…I’ll just mail you the check. There’s a plane about to fly through Stardew Valley and I was hoping to catch it on my radio” He seemed awfully excited, and a bit apologetic for it, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed. But she couldn’t judge. I mean, she still slept with a fairy plushie every night. Or at least she did before leaving home. The more she thought about it, the more she realised how leaving had affected her. But those thoughts were quickly interrupted.

“Let's get going. I’ll let you rest in my house tonight. You don’t need an more trunks falling on you for a while”

He laughed at his own ‘joke’, but his usual demeanour quickly came back. Maybe he did care about her, even if just a little bit. It comforted her to know she wasn’t entirely alone.

[jundsthoughts]

Kreacher's Lament

None of this means anything, nope, pay no attention to it @wixenforever @that1notetaker. I totally haven't been ranting to myself about Harry never learning about his family properly and how that's a crime and someone (definitely not me) needs to remedy the situation (I am definitely trying to do so). These are drabbles, that might or might not mean anything later, and might or might not see the proper light of day...... this means nothing /s.

Kreacher pops away viciously, letting the trunk thunk to the floor and up the stairs as he walks. He hopes that the Aurors find the Mangy, Traitorous, Master he now has. A filthy traitor that caused his Mistress and Good Master Regulus such heartache as well. Not worthy of the Black name, not worthy of those who raised him and gave him life.

And for him to be back? Kreacher had not heard that he was back, with no owls flying to and from the Ancient house of his family. But there he had been, ratty and tattered, chased by wizards and witches who had forgotten what the House of Black is. Kreacher remembers when even dreaming of doing so would be laughable and warned against by any proper wizard around them. Oh, how they would have been cast from the wizarding world, he laments.

Such has been the fall of his family these last decades. He runs a wrinkly, bony finger across the wallpaper of his home; the edges curling and decrepit. He looks around, seemingly for the first time since his Mistress had died, and is surprised by the state of things. Everything is covered in dust, the smell of rot and decay filling his nose as he breathes in, but most of all, it feels sick. The house itself, groaning and moaning; not as it settles on the foundations, but with the very magic of the Black family. It sags and suffers in absence, the deep deep roots of their Noble and Ancient line souring.

Kreacher staggers back from the wall, the old, scratched up, plain trunk thinking heavily down a pair of steps before stopping. He had not paid attention to his family in all these years. Mistress Narcissa was, of course, alive and well, having named the Malfoy brat as the Blacks always have been. The blood traitor was too, he could feel it, happy with the mudblood. He cringes at himself, saying a soft apology for his late Master Regulus. He has, instead, wailed and lamented the fate of his family. Let his duties to the line fade and be forgotten. Quickly ramming his head against the wall, he rights himself with a huff.

In a blink, Kreacher and the Potter brats trunk are no longer on the stairs, but instead rest before a dark wooden door. Sadly, he looks at the neat and elegant script of the Good Master, wishing to still have him here. Gently, with more care than the elf had used for anything in many years, he turned the knob and opened the door with a shuddering creak, feeling spells crack and fail as he did so. Levitating the trunk with a snap of his fingers, he slowly walks into the room he had not entered since his Master Regulus had told him to leave. Surprisingly, it was as if nothing had changed in the room since he had last been. Not a speck of dust, nor damage from time, had visited the room.

With every care he could take, he set the trunk at the side of the bed. Not the foot, as a trunk still sat there, but near enough. He looks up at the Black Family crest that had been painted that summer, when the Wretched Master had run to the Potter's. He sneers, almost turning to leave, dreading how long this room would be sullied, but he stops.

Looking back up, he sees a charm holding, stronger than most, that still resides within the ancient house. Reaching with his magic, he touches the illusion, and watches as it seems to jump with joy, eagerly revealing what it hides. Kreacher swallows, looking back at the trunk beside the bed as he traces the name engraved upon it softly. Harry Potter, he wonders, oh how Master Regulus would be disappointed by me.

Also, do with this what you will: "You would win," Theo says softly, with certainty that has Harry wrenching his head around in a snap, certain that his eyes bulge out of their sockets.

"What?" Ron echos his question, just as baffled as he is.

"If you were to enter, you would win."

Harry blinks several times, not understanding how Theo could say that in such a serious way without even the crack of a smile. He wasn't saying it like a joke; he was saying it like he means it. "Theo, I couldn't- I mean they're all in N.E.W.T years! How would I-"

"You would win." Theo's eyes are hard, a small smile on his lips as he speaks with such certainty and conviction that it makes Harry stop and a warm feeling flutter in his stomach.

[elvirable]

Heart to Heart | Chapter 5

[ Simon Riley x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count:4.4k |status: work in progress themes/tags: mental health, protective Simon, smut, kind of slow build, violence, y'all are stuck in an abandoned safety unit and well… ———————————————————————-

There is a saying, one as old as time: the truth will set you free.

Such a simple phrase turned convoluted since the days it left your mouth — his therapist.

In other words: You’re the mandated therapist for Task Force 141. Simon doesn’t know why he keeps seeing you even though he doesn’t say much. Things take a twist when an evacuation is required, all outside communication is lost. Lost to the world, you begin to really know the real Simon Riley.

{ Chapters 1 & 2 } { Chapter 3 } { Chapter 4 }

- A/N: Wanted to get this out because I haven't posted in a while, so while I'm here -- ding! ding! ding! That's the smut bell.. coming next chapter!

A subtle warmth lulled you awake. Pale sunbeams fragmented through the warped windows, further painting the decrepit chapel into a long-forgotten refuge.

Your eyes struggled to flutter open and focus on the cracked ceiling. All you could hear and feel was the throbbing aches migrating throughout every muscle, each limb still leaden with exhaustion. You were slow to collect your thoughts, gradually working up the energy to shake your mental fog before a stinging pain singed your forearm.

“Fuck —“ you hissed, jolting upwards and lurching forward. Before you could instinctively reach for your laceration, a calloused hand abruptly tapped your hand away.

“Glad to see you’re alive.” 

Simon’s voice was enough encouragement and surprise to stifle the pain pulsating through every nerve, and your gaze instantly darted towards him.

He was crouched beside you, a small disinfectant bottle laid beside his boot alongside bloodied and clean bandages. Sweat and the pungent musk of gunpowder permeated the air before the acrid aroma of hydrogen peroxide cut through your senses. 

“Hold still,” came Simon’s order, a firm and husky whisper. He angled your arm back in order to view your wound.

You didn’t expect his grasp on your wrist to hold a gentleness, holding your arm as if it was porcelain. Following his attentive gaze, the sunlight failed to grace your forearm. Dark bruises peppered your skin and further framed your agitated laceration. The taste of blood pooled on your tongue as you bit your lip, trying to hide a hiss as he carefully patted a sanitized cloth against your wound.

“Run into a bear or somethin’?”

“No,” you grunted, incapable of adjusting to the sting of alcohol against your injury. You could feel his gaze flicker briefly back to you before returning. 

“You look fucked up.”

“Thanks,” your voice was flat and dry despite the small smile on your lips, earning a small crinkle around Simon’s eyes. It surely wasn’t the nicest thing you’ve ever been told, but relief washed over your tense nerves. You were thankful he had found you, and his presence brought an agency of safety. 

As he continued to tend to your arm, your eyes took their time to pour over Simon. He appeared uninjured, although the blood caked onto his combat boots indicated some type of altercation. You also suddenly observed how lean he was without the bulky holsters and vests; how noticeable the slight faded ink was on his tattoos peeking from his wrist and the curve of his biceps. He was muscular, but his movements were not cumbersome; he was deliberate and precise.

He was still donning the balaclava, but his light lashes were wispy and longer than you had previously noticed. His eyes held an intense focus on your arm, but much softer than you’ve seen them before. Normally they were hardened, trained forward like an unstoppable force. God help anyone who gets caught in their path.

It was the first time the mystery of the face concealed beneath the mask piqued your interest. You wondered if there were any delicate qualities to it, like his lashes and his hold of your wrist, and less like his typical looming and hard demeanor. 

“I fell down the hill,” you broke the silence with a quiet explanation, settling to watch as he went on to apply antibiotic cream to your wound.

“Explains the trail of bandages I found outside.” 

“Yeah, my bag ripped on the bushes. I lost my earpiece, too.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway, the radios stopped workin’,” Simon shared, now finished wrapping and bandaging your arm.

His words stirred a quiet panic in your stomach. You didn’t really like the sound of that  — how long were you to wait here? Were they going to send out a rescue team? You didn’t even want to entertain the worse case scenarios bubbling into your thoughts. Panic would only serve as useless in this situation.

“C’mere.” Simon rose, his hand reaching for yours to lift you from the dust-ladened floor. 

He pulled you up with ease, and it took a second to regain your balance. Every muscle still held remnants of a soreness  — you had never ran that fast in your entire life and your body was still reeling from the exertion. 

“Where’s all my gear?” You swiveled to survey the room, realizing your ripped bag and all its contents had disappeared. All but your battered coat, which Simon plopped into your hands. 

“Moved it to the bell tower, better for watching the tree line.”

All you could do was hum in recognition. Once you slid your coat on, you followed Simon through the door and rounded the corner of the building. The stark brightness nearly blinded you, and you had to rapidly blink to properly adjust your eyes. Snowfall had faltered since last night, but flurries still held a steady and lazy pace. 

You were soon led to a small door on the back of the building, where a stone staircase led up into the tower.

The landing at the top was missing the bell, fortunately, and had two small arched windows made of brick. While small, you couldn’t help but notice how Simon had laid out and unpacked the gear. It hadn’t been sprawled out, instead assembled into a neat little camp. The sleeping bags were laid side-by-side, a tarp tied above and around to protect them from the harsh cold. A portable cooking stove laid in the center with a small saucepan and a freeze-dried food packet. It had also looked like he had lugged two warped wooden stools up, each positioned at a window. 

He motioned for you to sit in the makeshift sleeping bag cubby before turning to quickly scan the view outside the windows. You gladly obliged, engulfing yourself into one of the thin fleece blankets. You propped yourself up against the brick wall in an attempt to stay awake , but heaviness tugged at your eyelids and brought you back into sleep.

Simon kept watch through the afternoon hours you had fallen asleep, nothing but snow-covered pine to occupy the time. Eventually, he decided the area was clear as it was silent and long-forgotten. 

He cupped his palm to shelter the lighter from the wind and, after a few clicks, watched as the flame turned the cigarette end into embers. With a deep inhale, the slight burn in his throat was a welcoming sensation against the harsh cold. Lulling his gaze over towards you, his eyes watched as your chest rose and fell underneath the fleece blankets. There was a delicate calmness in your sleeping face, looking at peace despite the scrapes and marks contrasting against your skin.

An amused breath exhaled from his nose as he thought of that morning and your reaction. He hadn’t been lying when he said you looked fucked up; exhaustion was written all over your body, hair tossled, and scrapes and bruises all over you. You were usually clean and put-together, so warm that it felt like he was witnessing you out of your element stuck in an abandoned church.

He recalled the vision he was greeted with when he had found you in the early hours of the morning. Sunlight was late to rise, as it always lagged during the winter. He had slid through the door, only to see your limp body sprawled on the floor. You had been extremely pale and your skin was cold, dark blood seeping through your makeshift bandages. 

Simon was no stranger when it came to stumbling upon (and causing) these types of scenes, but this time his stomach had twisted and lurched. It was an immediate and quiet panic that coursed through him, his heart pounding louder as he approached to check your pulse.

He remembered how it dawned on him how small you were in that moment. Of course, physically to an extent  — but it was the lack of your light that had surfaced the realization. He was used to witnessing your radiant vigor, the warmth that followed you wherever you went, that was quite noticeable when it was absent. Your eyes had been sunken with weariness, skin dry and nearly raw from the cold.

But now you were here, curled on the sleeping bags merely two feet away from him. 

Thank God, he thought while he inhaled another cigarette drag. 

He knew he was growing fond of you, but could not grapple with how quickly and how much. Splitting from the task force, escaping in the middle of the night, losing communication  — all these things have happened before on missions. So why did he feel an apprehension now?

Of course he knew why  — it was you. He felt responsible for your safety, for your recovery. Seeing you pale and bleeding still left a bitter taste in his mouth, despite the fact he’s seen way worse on regular missions. He had actually been devastated. 

He didn’t like the thought of losing you, even if you were fast asleep in front of him. Perhaps you were symbolic to him— ushering in all his thoughts, how they crashed and swept his thoughts like a flood. He had spent a lifetime simply not feeling, choking every emotion back down into caverns of his mind. That was his survival  — a blanket of numbness.

Yet you came along with all your questions and your doe eyes and your kindness. And here he was, now suddenly trying to keep his head above the rising waters of all these thoughts and emotions. Simon was aware they were important to address as it was the only way to close the flood gates; he knew these were all valid emotions, but he was gripped with a degree of defeat.

He was overwhelmed, unsure how to navigate such a foreign territory. He didn’t know how to feel and it was a terribly lonely weight to even dwell on this.

And, again, you. Others could only see his outer shell, yet you had peered inside and noticed the riptides and whirlpools swirling deep beneath his thoughts. You had a soothing presence that washed over him, one that saw him and accepted him as he was; eyes that have seen the child he was and all he had gone through without a word being uttered. He never knew how comforting it was to finally be seen.

Simon inhaled deeply to relieve the pressure building in his chest, flicking the cigarette butt and ashing it onto the worn brick. There was a forlorn nature in his stare now, all the thoughts pooling in his mind. 

He wanted to try, at the very least with you, to learn how to feel.

[queenmuzz]

WIP Wednesday: A Repository of Souls

She’s seven years old, and she’s about to die.

She ought to have been learning her letters along with the rest of the Mourn Watch children, but honestly, it bored her.  Besides, Myrna had told her that the best way to learn was to seek knowledge, not to be given it.

So, without telling anyone,  she had snuck out and gone deep into the depths of the Necropolis.  Far deeper than she was technically allowed.  But she knew how to sneak past the living guards, and the undead guards… well, they saw her as one of their own.  They would never stop her from exploring the Necropolis.  And so, she had went out, learning ancient Nevarran script as she went deep, DEEP, into the dark decrepit lower levels, where only the lower classes were interred, or where long forgotten extinct noble family’s crypts had settled over the centuries.

Families like the Ingellvars.

She might share a name with the once illustrious family, but she was under no illusion that she shared any blood with them.  They just happened to be the crypt a squalling little infant was found, only soothed by the dancing lights of curious wisps, and the unblinking hollow eyes of the dead that awoke from their slumber to see what the commotion was.  

Myrna had told her that the spirits had given her to Vorgoth, that she was blessed by the spirits themselves, but Zea Ingellvar wasn’t that stupid to buy it anymore. After all, if the Spirits had truly given her away like a gift, they wouldn’t have deposited her in the rarely patrolled levels of the Necropolis.  And surely if she was blessed, her magic would manifest itself by now.  After all, nearly all of her classmates had their magic awakened, to varying extents.  But not her.  Perhaps it would be another year or two, but the prospects looked dim.

She wasn’t stupid, she was beginning to suspect the real reason she was found in this place, deep within the earth:  She was something that no one wanted, a shame.  An embarrassment.  Someone had tossed her away to be forgotten, and it was only because of wisps, the undead, and Vorgoth that she still lived.  Ironic, the only things that seemed to care for her were not flesh and blood.

She wasn’t stupid but…. now considering her predicament, she could at least admit she was careless, seeing as she had focussed too much on finding the lettering that said ‘Ingellvar’ to watch her step, to see the giant crack that had formed in the steps, and the gaping chasm that had swallowed her.

[seriouslysam8]

Brumous Sneak Peek!

Chapter Forty-Nine: Hot Girl Christmas

The last thing Ginny wanted to do was go to her Aunt Muriel’s for Christmas Eve. Honestly, she didn’t understand why they even had to go. The last time she went to her Aunt Muriel’s for Christmas she was nine years old. Huffing, Ginny pulled a jumper over her head before pulling her tangled hair out from under the collar. She brushed her hair, moving slower than necessary to minimize the time spent at her aunt’s stuffy and musty home. 

She just wanted to spend the day with Harry, like she did the previous year. Arguably, last year was rough with her dad at St. Mungo’s and Harry being, well, Harry. But she enjoyed listening to Sirius sing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs. She loved eating Christmas dinner with both her family and her friends. She even liked how cheerful they were able to make Grimmauld Place, dashing bits of color in the rather dark decrepit house. 

“Ginny! Ron!” her mother called from downstairs. 

Ginny sucked in her breath, preparing herself for the evening. She grabbed her mirror off the bedside table and tucked it in her magically expanded back pocket. Just in case Harry called after leaving the Tonkses. For the first time since knowing Harry, Ginny had seen him genuinely excited to leave Hogwarts to go home. Andromeda had been calling him and Cepheus almost nightly, building excitement and chatting about all the sweets she was baking for them. Seeing Harry have a real family made Ginny feel guilty for wanting him to be with her on the holidays like before, especially since Harry’s entire family would be spending Christmas day at the Burrow.

Her bedroom door burst open and Ron poked his head in with a scowl plastered across his face. He was just as pleased to be spending Christmas Eve with Aunt Muriel as she was.

“Oi, ever heard of knocking?” Ginny snapped.

Ron shrugged. “Yes, but siblings,” he reasoned, gesturing between the two of them as though she had forgotten she was attached to him for life.

“I could have been naked,” Ginny retorted.

Ron’s face pulled. “Well, if you were naked, you should be bloody locking your door! If you don’t lock it, brothers can enter.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “That’s not at all remotely how that works. Knocking says you respect my privacy, you dolt.”

Ron sighed. “There is no privacy within families, Ginny. Where have you been?” he questioned, his head shaking. “Now, get downstairs and stay close with me at Aunt Muriel’s. I can’t bloody well stand her! I don’t know why we couldn’t just go to Andromeda and Ted’s. George said we were all invited. He overheard Andromeda inviting Mum and Dad at an Order meeting.”

“Ugh,” Ginny responded in a disgusted tone as she followed Ron out of her room. “Don’t tell me that. Why didn’t we go there?”

Ron bent down so his lips were close to her ear. “Apparently, they didn’t want us intruding on Harry’s first real holiday with family.”

Ginny thought that was beyond stupid. Their families had been fully intertwined since the summer before her fourth year. Sirius and Ginny’s mum were close, always gossiping and laughing together. Her dad and Sirius would discuss flying automobiles. Harry had a brotherly relationship with not only Ron but Fred and George as well. Ron and Cepheus had become quick friends. Andromeda and Ted seemed like lovely people. Ginny didn’t understand her parents’ reasoning. She couldn’t help but silently curse her family as her parents ushered them through the fireplace to their aunt’s house.

[nerditudes]

🗣+ Stone & Hades

MUSES CHATTING MEME

Stone hadn't counted on a lot of things. Falling for his boss, that aliens were real, that his boss' obsession with said alien would lead to his untimely demise.

That he'd go all out in a grandiose apology before super exploding.

It was a lot to process. If aliens were real, perhaps other myths were in fact, based on truth. Which was what led him to Greece. In the middle of the night on the first day of autumn. He had located an old forgotten temple that had been buried for centuries-- perhaps longer.

Dedicated to one figure alone.

Hades, Lord of the Dead.

"I want him back." Stone called into the dark. "And I'm willing to pay whatever price to do it."

His voice echoed around the decrepit temple, a suffocating silence following. It choked all sound for a few minutes-- before a blue fire erupted by the altar. It spread to torches scattered around the room as though it were alive.

Stone soon heard a voice behind him.

"Been a long time since a mortal with your track record asked me for help." Stone turned, looking up at a taller figure-- an oddly average looking gentleman in a well cut suit.

"And boy-- are you good at killin things. I've seen you work. Beautiful. Artful. I could use a guy of your talents on my side. You want your unrequited love back? You work for me in exchange. Not long-- a century or two. Maybe three. Til I get tired of ya." Hades was all too eager to have another minion under his thrall-- especially one so familiar with death itself.

"Just shake my hand and your insipid little science man will be back in fine order. Not a single hair on that glorious mustache of his singed."

[your-modern-sappho]

THE TRAGIC SAPPHICS Prologue

November 28th, 1839 - Magdellena

They warned me. All those years ago, they warned me. 

“It's dangerous at night.” I knew that. Every person with half a brain knows what lurks at night. 

Creatures of the night, disfigured in their curse. They’ll peel your flesh from your bones and lick the blood from your remains, for their fangs were made for tearing. For ripping your soul apart at the seams and making you one of them. Part of them; like a patchwork quilt of death and decay.

Your skin will grow back pale and thin, dark marks of the dead staining every forgotten wound.  There is no warmth, no semblance of humanity left. Where your heart once beat proudly within your chest, there is only silence and a dull ache. There's only rot now, foul and acrid. The only human part of you is the stolen blood that courses through your veins. You remember who you were, but you’ll never be that person again.

And as his teeth found my neck, that is exactly what I had become.

I had met him in the observatory. I loved the stars, and he knew that. Charming me with falsified interest.  It had been a date, with a dinner of only sweet desserts laid out on a fleece blanket, illuminated by candle light. And though the observatory was old and decrepit, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. A dream come true.

It was then that he fell upon me. And no matter how I fought, my fate was inevitable.

I was only a girl then; young, vibrant, filled with awe. His fangs have left me broken and defiled, a mere shell of my former self. 

They warned me, and I didn't listen. 

Oh god, I wish I would have listened.

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 88 - The Final Stand

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Summary: The penultimate chapter of the Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Word count: 5,517

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First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Yato was alone. He lay facedown, listening to the silence for a long time, until he opened his eyes. 

He lay in a bright mist, the bright white of a muggle hospital that Hiyori would have known, that burned his eyes. It reflected off the shrouded surfaces around him as if he were muffled in a cloud. Yato sat up. He appeared unscathed. A noise reached him through the mist surrounding him; it was a pitiful whine.

He stood up, looking around. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. All was hushed and still, except for gasping noises coming from somewhere ahead. Yato turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to materialise before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear, domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for…

He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a decrepit man curled on the ground, head separated from his body, and he lay shuddering under a seat; forgotten, clinging to life.

"You cannot help.”

Yato spun around. Tenjin was walking toward him, wearing sweeping robes of white and silver.

"Yato," Tenjin spread his arms wide. "You brave, brave boy. Walk with me.”

Stunned, Yato followed as Tenjin strode away from where the body lay whimpering, leading him to a bench that Yato had not previously noticed, set some distance away under that high sparkling ceiling. Tenjin sat down, and Yato fell next to him, staring at his old headmaster's face. Everything was as he had remembered it. And yet…

"You died," said Yato.

"Indeed,' said Tenjin matter-of-factly.

"Then… I'm dead too?" 

"Ah," said Tenjin, smiling still more broadly. "What do you think?”

They looked at each other, the old man still beaming.

"Not?" repeated Yato.

"Not,” Tenjin agreed.

"But,” Yato said slowly. "But I should have died - I didn't defend myself! I let him kill me!"

"And that will have made all the difference," Tenjin replied. Happiness seemed to radiate from him like light, like untamed fire: Yato had never seen the man so utterly content.

"Explain," said Yato.

"But you already know,'" said Tenjin.

"I let him kill me,' Yato clarified hesitantly. "Didn't I?"

"You did,'" said Tenjin. “I expect you now realize that you and the Sorcerer have been connected by something other than fate.”

Yato frowned. "So the part of his soul that was in me… is gone?”

"Oh yes,” said Tenjin. "Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Yato.”

"But then...” Yato glanced over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. "What is that, Professor?”

"Something that is beyond help," said Tenjin.

'But if the Sorcerer used the Killing Curse," Yato started again. “How can I be alive?”

"I think you know,' said Tenjin. "Think back. Remember what he did, in his ignorance, in his greed and his cruelty.”

Yato thought. He let his gaze drift over his surroundings. Then the answer rose to his lips easily, without effort. “He bound me to him,” Yato said slowly. His eyes widened. “No… He bound us. Me and Nora.”

“Indeed,” Tenjin replied. 

“But,” Yato faltered. “Then Nora…”

Tenjin looked somber. Father would have to turn his wand on Nora in order to free her from the same curse; but he would never do that, not when he had done so to Yato. She was the remaining Horcrux, one of his last remaining ties to the world.

"I live... while he lives? But I thought… I thought we both had to die? Or is it the same thing?" Yato was distracted by the whimpering of the agonized creature behind them and glanced back at it yet again. "Are you sure we can't do anything?"

"There is no help possible.”

“Then explain,” said Yato, and Tenjin smiled.

"You were a Horcrux, Yato. He had rendered his soul so unstable that it broke apart when he committed those acts of unspeakable evil. And his knowledge was woefully incomplete. That which the Sorcerer does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Tales of love, loyalty, and innocence, the Sorcerer knows and understands nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.”

Tenjin looked at Yato. 

"He took your soul believing it would strengthen him. He took into his body a tiny part of the enchantment, and so you live, and so does the Sorcerer's one last hope for himself."

Yato stared at him. “And you knew this? You knew all along?” 

Tenjin chuckled dryly. "I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, interspersed with the creature's whimpers.

"What you must understand, Yato, is that you and the Sorcerer have journeyed together into realms of magic hitherto unknown and untested. Having ensured this two-fold connection, he entwined your destinies together more securely than ever two wizards were joined shared.”

Tenjin turned to Yato. "He was more afraid than you were that night, Yato. You had accepted, even embraced, the possibility of death, something the Sorcerer has never been able to do.”

Yato sat in thought for a long time. “He killed me with your wand.”

"He failed to kill you with my wand,” Tenjin corrected Yato. “I think we can agree that you are not dead.”

“I feel alive," said Yato, looking down at his clean, unblemished hands. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Well, I was going to ask you that," said Tenjin, looking around. "Where would you say that we are?”

Yato did not know until Tenjin had asked. Now, however, he found that he knew exactly where they were. "It looks like King's Cross Station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains.”

Yato and Tenjin sat without talking for the longest time yet. The realisation of what would happen next settled gradually over Yato in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.

Yato looked askance, feeling guilt for the conflicting feelings he had; to stay here in the quiet and calm, or to face what came next. "I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you.”

Yato glanced at Tenjin. "I've got a choice?"

"Oh yes.” Tenjin smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to, let's say, board a train.”

"And where would it take me?”

"Foward," said Tenjin simply. Silence again. “I think that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this, Yato, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does.”

Yato glanced again at the headless body that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair.

“And Nora is still alive?”

“Yes.”

Yato swallowed hard. “And I have no way of freeing her? Not in the same way I was?” 

Tenjin looked at Yato sorrowfully. “You know what must be done.”

“But how?” Yato asked - not just for the physical act, but the emotional transgression that would have to happen to defeat the Sorcerer.

Tenjin rose to his feet, and Yato jumped up beside him.  “Help will always be given at Hogwarts, Yato. To those who ask for it.” 

Tenjin turned and faced Yato, hands tucked into the long sleeves of his shiny robes. "Do not pity the dead Yato. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

Yato nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been. It was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and fear and more loss.

"Professor," said Yato, and Tenjin stopped in his tracks. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

Tenjin beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Yato's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Yato, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

~

The smell of the forest filled his nostrils.

He could feel the cold hard ground beneath his cheek. Every inch of him ached, and the place where the Killing Curse had hit him felt tender on his chest where his wand nudged into his skin. He remained still, with his left arm bent out at an awkward angle and his eyes closed.

He had expected to hear cheers of celebration at his death, but instead rustling and murmurs filled the air.

"My Lord…” Oshi's voice said softly. Yato did not dare open his eyes. “My Lord-.”

"Enough,” said the Sorcerer's voice.

More footsteps. Several people were backing away from the same spot. Desperate to see what was happening and why, Yato cracked his eyes open by a millimeter. The Sorcerer seemed to be getting to his feet. Deatheaters were hurrying away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Oshi alone remained behind, kneeling beside her master.

Yato closed his eyes again and considered what he had seen. The Deatheaters had been huddled around the Sorcerer, who seemed to have fallen to the ground. Something had happened when he had hit Yato with the Killing Curse. Had the Sorcerer too collapsed? It seemed like it. And both of them had fallen briefly unconscious and both of them had now returned.

"My Lord, let me-,” Oshi cooed.

“Leave me," said the Sorcerer coldly, and though he could not see it, Yato pictured Oshi withdrawing to herself, rebuffed by his callousness. "My son… Is he dead?"

There was complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached Yato, but he felt their concentrated gaze; it seemed to press him harder into the ground, and he was terrified a finger or an eyelid

might twitch.

"Daughter," said the Sorcerer. "Tell me he is dead.”

Yato did not know who had been sent to verify. He could only lie there, with his heart thumping traitorously, waiting that the Sorcerer's suspicions that all had not gone to plan were true.

There was a sound of scales against dried leaves and bracken, then hands - softer than he had been expecting - touched Yato's face, crept beneath his shirt, down to his chest, and felt his heart. He could hear the girl's fast breathing, her short hair tickled his face. He knew that she could feel the steady pounding of life against his ribs.

“He is dead!" Nora called to the watchers.

And now they shouted, yelled in triumph and stamped their feet, and through his eyelids, Yato saw bursts of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration.

“You see?" the Sorcerer declared over the ruckus. "Yaboku is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now!”

“Now," said the Sorcerer, "we go to the castle and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body?”

There was a fresh outbreak of laughter, and Yato waited with shallow breaths.

"You carry him," the Sorcerer said. "Pick up your student.”

Yato could feel strong arms trembling as Kuraha cradled Yato in his arms, and Yato did not dare give away his position.

"Move,'" said the Sorcerer, and Kuraha stumbled forward, forcing his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest.

Branches caught at Yato's hair and tracksuit, but he lay limp, his mouth lolling open, his eyes shut, and in the darkness, while the Deatheaters crowed all around them, nobody looked to see whether a pulse beat in his exposed neck.

The two giants crashed along behind the Deatheaters; Yato could hear trees creaking and falling as they passed. They made so much noise that birds took shrieking into the sky, and even the jeers of the Deatheaters were drowned. The victorious procession marched on toward the open ground, and after a while Yato could tell, by the lightening of the darkness through his closed eyelids, that the trees were beginning to thin. A chill settled over them and Yato heard the rasping breath of the Dementors that patrolled the outer trees. They would not affect him now.

A little later, Yato sensed, by a freshening of the air, that they had reached the edge of the forest.

"Come,' said the Sorcerer, and Yato heard him move ahead, and Kuraha was forced to follow.

Now Yato opened his eyes a fraction and saw the Sorcerer striding in front of them, Nagini slithering by his side. But Yato had no possibility of extracting the wand concealed under his jacket without being noticed by the Deatheaters, who marched on either side of them through the slowly lightening darkness.

Yato shut his eyes tight again. He knew that they were approaching the castle and strained his ears to distinguish, above the gleeful voices of the Deatheaters and their tramping footsteps, signs of life from those within.

"Stop.”

The Deatheaters came to a halt: Yato heard them spreading out into the courtyard at the open front doors of the school. He could see, even through his closed lids, the reddish glow that meant light streamed upon him from the entrance hall.

He waited. Footsteps kicked at the rubble as Hogwarts’ defenders came to meet their fate. Any moment now, the people for whom he had tried to die would see him, lying apparently dead, in Kuraha’s arms.

“Yukine, who is that in Kuraha’s arms?” Yato heard the question from the distance, but no answer came from his friend.

“Yaboku… is dead!” the Sorcerer cried.

“NO!” The scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Hiyori could make such a sound.

He heard another woman laughing nearby, and knew that Oshi gloried in the despair wrought on the faces that amassed from the hall. He squinted again for a single second and saw the open doorway filling with people, as the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Yato's death for themselves. He saw the Sorcerer standing a little in front of him, stroking Nagini's head with a single finger. He closed his eyes again.

“No! No! Yato! Yato!”

The voices rose, Kazuma's and Bishamon’s among them, and Yato wanted nothing more than to call back. Yet he made himself lie silent, and their cries acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Deatheaters, until -

"SILENCE!" cried the Sorcerer, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all.

"You see?* said the Sorcerer. Yato heard him striding backward and forward. "Yaboku is dead! Do you understand now? He was nothing but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

The Sorcerer paced in front of him, and the serpent hissed.

“Anyone who continues to resist - man, woman, or child - will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family.”

The pacing stopped, and Yato heard Nagini's heavy body push through the debris toward her master.

“Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Come forward and join us, or die.”

There was a long silence, broken only by a smattering of murmurs when slow, uneven steps - someone who was injured, Yato noted - made their way to the front of the crowd.

“And who might you be?” the Sorcerer asked

There was a pause. “Bishamonten.”

Yato cracked his eyes open. Bishamon’s long blonde hair was dirtied and tangled, a long streak of blood running from her temple down to her chin. In her hands she clutched the Sorting Hat, dusty and worse for wear than Yato had ever seen.

“A pureblood. All the better for y-.”

“I have something to say.”

The Sorcerer prickled at the interruption, his robes swishing at his feet as he stalked back and forth. Silence settled over them.

“It doesn't matter that Yato is gone,” Bishamon said. Her voice was an uncharacteristically vulnerable echo as she looked around at her friends. “People die every day. Friends, family... We lost Yato tonight. He's still with us. In here.”

Bishamon brought a hand to her heart, the Sorting Hat still in the other. “All of them. They didn't die in vain… but you will.”

Bishamon turned, renewed fire in her eyes as she sneered at the Sorcerer. Yato's eyes fluttered to the Sorcerer, and he was taken aback to see a wide grin splitting his mouth at Bishamon's stirring speech, a manic laugh building in his throat.

“Because you're wrong! Yato's heart did beat for us. For all of us! It's not over!”

And then many things happened at the same moment.

Bishamon thrust her hand into the Sorting Hat and pulled forth the Sword of Gryffindor. There was a roar from the boundary of the school behind Yato and the ensemble of Deatheaters, who broke rank at the thundering of hooves stampeding towards them. Yato threw himself out of Kuraha’s arms and drew his wand, stumbling to find his footing as the shocked gasps from friend and foe alike filled the air. The Sorcerer whirled on Yato, wand lax in his hand and a look of utter shock on his face. Nagini drew up alongside him with a hiss.

“Confringo!” Yato cried, a bolt of light zipping out of his wand at what he had up until now was the final Horcrux. Some unseen shield protected the serpent, the spell richoeting into the crowd of prone Deatheaters behind who hadn’t the chance to protect themselves.

Yato threw himself through one of the many archways surrounding the castle, avoiding the shattering stone as the Sorcerer screamed curses at him. He could hear the battle pick up behind him as the Deatheaters surged forward, and Hogwarts in turn, renewed by the sight of their champion alive and breathing, fought back.

Yato had to lure the Sorcerer away from Nagini, to leave her unprotected so that Yukine and Hiyori could do what he could not. He threw himself into the main entrance of the castle, all but crashing in Yukine and Hiyori in a reunion he did not think he would see until they were old and grey.

Yato gripped Yukine and Hiyori by the shoulders, out of breath and clutching his wand. “Kill the snake, there's another, it's him - it's not him, it's my father,” Yato rushed.

“What are you talking about-?” Yukine urged, but Yato shook his head in response; there was no time to explain.

“That body is the final shield. There’s one more Horcrux. Lure Nagini in, kill her.”

Yato pushed Yukine and Hiyori further into the bowels of the castle, tripping over broken wood and shattered statues, the corners of walls so obliterated they gave almost no cover to the onslaught of Deatheaters washing their way into the castle. They were separated by the tide of people retreating, Yato taking the stairs whereas Yukine and Hiyori were pushed into the Grand Hall in a flurry of elbows and spells, dragged away from where they needed to be and divided by a wall of dueling witches and wizards.

The Sorcerer had not appeared in the castle. Instead, Oshi led the forefront of the assault, hair whipping around her as if she had brought a storm on her heels. She flung curses at the wizards closest to her, ignorant of her comrades behind her as she slashed her wand wildly at anyone who dared face her.

A bolt of light grazed her cheek, leaving a burning mark and the singed smell of hair.

Oshi spun on the spot, roaring at the sight of her new challenger, and Hiyori’s breath caught in her throat. Kofuku, badly injured and pushing her students behind her and out of the way.

With a swipe of her wand, she began to duel. Hiyori and Yukine watched with terror and elation as Kofuku's wand slashed and twirled, and Oshi smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill.

'No!" Kofuku cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"

Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fight, interspersed with the occasional Deatheater taking a chance to hurl a curse at an unsuspecting innocent who hadn't the time to defend themselves.

"What will happen to your child when I've killed you?" taunted Oshi, mad as her master, as Kofuku’s curses danced around her. “When Daddy will be going the same way as Mummy?"

Oshi laughed, Kofuku screamed, and Yukine knew what was going to happen before it did.

Kofuku’s curse soared beneath Oshi's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Oshi's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge.

For the tiniest space of time, she understood what had happened, right before she exploded into a fine ash that was blown away on the wind in a second.

~

Yato took the Grand Staircase two steps at a time, breathing hard and trying not to choke on the thick smog of dust and smoke that wrapped around him. He kept his wand level, eyes searching in the darkness for the slightest movement. A burst of green light erupted from his left, and Yato spun and parried the blow. Another came from in front, then to his right, and then above from an unknown source, until finally the Sorcerer appeared in a wisp of black smoke and a thundering charge of green charged at Yato.

Yato parried the blow, a stream of red meeting the Sorcerer's curse in a shower of sparks that battled for dominance. The Sorcerer forced Yato back, advancing up the stairs swiftly with Nagini on his heels, fangs bared.

Suddenly the Sorcerer disappeared and Yato spun just in time to block the curse aimed at his back. His wand struggled in his defence as Yato was now forced down into the waiting jaws of his once saviour. His eyes flickered up, and in the brief respite between attacks Yato aimed at the ceiling and brought it down between himself and the Sorcerer. Yato struggled to his feet and threw himself over the banister before Nagini could lunge. Yato landed and rolled painfully onto glass and brick, but his reprieve was shortlived as the ground exploded in his path and plunged into nothingness below.

Smoke wrapped around him, black and suffocating, arresting his fall and dragging him upside down and through the air until he didn't know which was up.

Yato was thrown forth into the light, staggering against a shattered parapet high above the viaduct and the main courtyard of the castle. Bodies littered the ground and heaps of rubble marked the barricades that fighters used for protection. The fighting had moved inside, the distant shouts obscuring the horrors which were occurring inside.

Yato clung to the wall, fisting his wand as he fought the vertigo of being thrown around and dropped so suddenly at the edge of a dizzying height as the Sorcerer materialised in front of him. He took Yato’s face roughly in his hand, studying him closely.

“Why do you live?” the Sorcerer asked softly, a hint of mystified sadness in his voice that Yato didn't know how to feel about. This man - this boy - did not possess his father’s face. And yet he knew the truth.

“Because I have something worth living for," Yato said. “Let’s finish this Father, the way we started. Together.”

Yato grabbed the Sorcerer’s shoulders and threw himself over the precipice.

The Sorcerer saved them, warping around Yato in a haze of black that left only his face in his, snarling and snapping as Yato fought for control. They soared over the castle, dislodging tiles and smashing through burnt rafters, narrowly missing the peaks of turrets and careening past the vast walls he called home.

The ground suddenly rushed up to meet Yato, and his body jerked and was thrown like a ragdoll as the Sorcerer freed himself from his grasp and landed across the ruined courtyard in a battered, smoking haze.

Yato coughed and dragged himself up onto his stomach. His wand lay a few feet in front of him, and just beyond that, the Sorcerer was coming to, realising the situation. The last duel.

Yato scrambled forward, dragging himself over stone and blood to wrap his hand around his wand and rise to his feet in the same moment the Sorcerer mirrored his action. The courtyard thundered with the clash of magic, powerful red meeting deadly green in a battle that would decide the fate of the world. Yato staggered against the weight of the magic pushing against him. From the corner of his eye he saw Yukine and Hiyori, defenseless and pushed back against the broken arch of the castle, Nagini’s fangs bared and reared back in a fatal strike.

Yato’s eyes widened. It could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing and yet it seemed to draw every eye in the battle.

In one swift, fluid motion, Bishamon drew the Sword of Gryffindor in a broad upward stroke and sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and the Sorcerer's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and Nora’s body thudded to the ground at his feet.

The Sorcerer’s magic broke, and Yato’s curse struck him in his heart.

The Sorcerer collapsed to the ground beside Nora’s body. A wave of sickness washed over Yato. He didn't want to believe it - he couldn't fully believe it - until the evidence was lying before him. Nora - his obedient, shadow of a sister - had been forced to be a curse all their lives.

There was movement beside her, in the cooling corpse of a possessed boy who also had no choice in his fate. Yato’s father emerged from the ashes.

His black hair and dark eyes met Yato across the battlefield, wrought with pain and anguish as he looked from his daughter to his son. His lifelines. Destroyed.

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest half-shattered window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time so that the Sorcerer's was suddenly cast in the flaming hues of a phoenix.

Yato heard the cry as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!”

"Expelliarmus!"

The bang was like cannon fire, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided.

The Sorcerer's green jet met his own spell and the Elder wand flew in a high arch akin to the head of his beloved daughter, and landed in its rightful master's hand.

Yato stared into the eyes of his father, seeing the realisation wash over them; he knew the truth now. He knew why the Elder Wand disobeyed him the same way he did. It would never hurt Yato, a fatal flaw in the plan that protected Yato even now.

He hit the flagstones with a mundane finality, his body feeble and limp. The Sorcerer was dead, killed by his rebounding curse, and Yato stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his father's husk.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended.

And then the tumult broke. The screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Yukine and Hiyori, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then Bishamon, Kazuma, and Kofuku were there, and then Daikoku, and Yato could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in.

All to thank the living Horcrux.

~

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Yato was an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of celebration and grief, pain and joy.

They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their guide, and that he had not slept, that he craved the company of only a few of them, seemed to occur to no one. He must speak to the bereaved, clasp their hands, witness their tears, receive their thanks, hear the news now creeping in from every quarter as the morning drew on; that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that Deatheaters were fleeing or else

being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released a that very moment, and that Amaterasu had returned as Minster of Magic.

They moved his Father's and Nora's body and laid them in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of the righteous and grieving families. The bodies of Deatheaters still littered the castle, though effort was being made to find them some resting place for the meanwhile.

After a while, exhausted and drained, Yato found himself sitting on a bench beside Kazuma, his glasses miraculously intact. “I'd want some peace and quiet, if it were me," he said.

"I’d love some," Yato replied.

"I’ll distract them all," Kazuma said as Yato pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head.

Now Yato could move through the Hall without interference. He saw Bishamon, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside her plate as she ate, surrounded by a knot of fervent admirers. Everywhere he looked he saw families reunited or torn apart, and finally, he saw the two whose company he craved most.

"It's me," he muttered, crouching down between them. "Will you come with me?"

They stood up at once, and together he, Yukine, and Hiyori left the Great Hall. Great chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade gone, and rubble and bloodstains

puddled every few steps they took.

Yato shucked off the cloak as they ventured through the courtyard, past the pool of blood that marked the Sorcerer’s final stand.

They remained silent. The pain of losing so many people pierced Yato like a physical wound every few steps. Most of all he felt the most relief, and a longing to sleep forever. But first, he owed an explanation to Yukine and Hiyori.

Painstakingly he recounted what he had seen in the Pensieve - the truth that the Sorcerer was his father - and what had happened in the forest, and they had not even begun to express all their shock and amazement when at last they arrived at the viaduct to which they had been walking, though none of them had mentioned their destination.

"And then there's this.” Yato held up the Elder Wand, and Yukine and Hiyori looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Yato did not like to see.

“Why didn't it work for him? The Elder Wand?” Hiyori asked.

“It answers to somebody else,” Yato said. He stepped up onto the broken bridge. “When he killed Kuguha, he thought the wand would become his. But the thing is…” Yato trailed off. “The wand never belongs to Kuguha.”

“It was Nora who disarmed Tenjin that night in the Astronomy tower. From that moment on, the wand answered her. Until, the other night when I disarmed Nora. At our Father's house.”

“So, that means…”

“It's mine!” Yato said incredulously, looking down at the innocuous wand.

“What should we do with it?” Yukine asked.

“We?” Hiyori echoed.

Yukine shrugged. “Just saying, that's the Elder Wand. The most powerful wand in the world. With that, he'll be invincible.”

"I don't want it,' said Yato. Men had killed and died for its power, and now Yato denied it.

“What?” said Yukine loudly. "Are you mad?”

"I know it's powerful," said Yato wearily. “But I was happier with mine. So...”

"Are you sure?" said Yukine. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand, an echo of past admirers.

"I think Yato's right," said Hiyori quietly.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth,' said Yato. "And quite honestly…”

Yato looked down at the wand and snapped it in two parts that fell into the chasm below with silent finality.

"I've had enough trouble for a lifetime.”