#//a necessary evil though. a bit of misery having him around; then he leaves and everything gets better <3333

[revvywevvy]

...I was bored and was rewatching all of the scv cutscenes to see if I missed any Pyrrha frames since ik im missing a few and like. i was wondering 'wow im feeling this huge pit in my chest i wonder why' and.

i just realized why.

seeing pat/rok/los anywhere near Pyrrha when she's got so/ul ed/ge and he's got so/ul ca/li/bur is giving me anxiety. i had to pause and close the tab bc my brain still doesn't trust his bitchass even if it's the part of the story where he tries to save Pyrrha instead of killing her,,,,,,,, but like- i've never forgotten about or forgiven him for killing Pyrrha the first time before that weird ass time travel retcon that happened immediately after 😭 i'm going to beat him with a giant fucking stick

[spencerreidsconverse]

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”.  You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

[nightshade-minho]

MOONSTORM [ iii ]

You know that feeling when you know you’ve made a terrible mistake?

Yes. That feeling.

It’s a feeling that never really goes away. You had to learn that the hard way.

Irrevocable actions, stupid mistakes. You were heart-wrenchingly familiar with all of it.

To err was human apparently. You...weren’t human, though.

It seems like being superhuman was insignificant, after all. At the end of the day, nothing mattered. None of your powers did.

Despite it all, you still lost him.

warnings: depressing shit (it gets better though dw) mentions of death, violence, sexual content, future smut

wc: 2.8k

moonstorm masterlist

It felt like the world had lost all color.

It had happened so many months ago, and yet it still felt like it happened just yesterday. The memories of stumbling out of his lair, covered in his blood and your tears, still fresh in your mind.

The image of his face, betrayed and yet so calm as he uttered those last words to you...it haunted you constantly.

You found yourself looking at the moon every night, dreaming about what could have been. The nightmares endlessly plagued your sleep as well, causing you to fear even your own bed.

No...even after Hyunjin's effects on you wore off, your own brain took on the responsibility of torturing you by conjuring up more heartbreaking dreams. Dreams which made you long for something you knew you’d lost forever- never to be yours again.

You never truly realized how much you’d gotten used to having him around. Life was so glaringly empty and meaningless without him. It was a complicated relationship…and yet it still left a giant hole in you. An all-encompassing despair that threatened to swallow you up.

With him gone, it just didn’t feel right to be a superhero anymore. How could you be the strong role model for everyone in the city to rely on when you knew just how weak you’d become? Even when the newspapers were covered with your heroics, even as the mayor addressed the city and expressed his desire to give you a medal for stopping yet another supervillain from roaming the streets- you stubbornly refused to don that costume ever again.

You stayed hidden through it all. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go out in public anymore. Your vigilante costume lay forgotten in the back of your closet- crumpled and sad.

It just...felt wrong. At the moment you felt nothing but pathetic. You didn’t have time to waste saving a snotty kitten stuck on a tree or stop a petty criminal from robbing a bank- all you were fit to do was eat ice cream straight from the can, and watch a soulless movie. The same routine, day in and day out. You hadn’t left your apartment in nearly a month, not even to buy groceries. Every second was spent wrapped up in blankets, pondering what you’d done.

Was that selfish of you? Probably. You were discovering new flaws by the second.

Sighing, you sat up a little, your ass almost numb from how long you’d spent lying down. Glancing up, you saw your father’s portrait looking down at you. You swallowed and slowly stood up from your bed, groaning to yourself. Why did he suddenly seem so disappointed?

Maybe a little bit of fresh air is what you needed, considering you were starting to believe the paintings were changing expressions. After all, you had work to do anyway- might as well take advantage of the nearby café’s free WiFi.

***

Here at last.

You sat down in the corner of the café, so tired you could barely move a muscle. But you had to get a move on with your life- the recovery should have happened by now.

And yet here you were, months later. Nothing seemed to be able to fill the hole he left behind, and even now you wished you could go back home as soon as possible.

Had it...had it been a mistake?

Of course it had. Your misery was evidence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could convince yourself that you’d done it for the good of the city.

The truth was... Hwang Hyunjin scared you.

He made you feel things, made you want to be someone else entirely. Every ounce of rigidity and austerity you’d imposed in yourself disappeared every time you were with him. He made you want to give everything up- give up all the responsibilities and burdens you carried on your shoulders to be with him. To be like him- free.

It wasn’t Hyunjin who was a threat to the city. No, not directly.

It was you- or rather the lack of you.

This city needed you to survive, and if Hyunjin managed to change you...it surely wouldn’t have lasted long without your help. Hyunjin had never really been the city’s biggest threat- there were far worse villains and it was them who you really fought against.

He was more of just an inconvenience, someone you had to deal with from time to time. And then he’d struck that deal- after which the nature of your relationship had turned into something entirely different.

Every time he acted up, it was usually just a ploy to get your attention. And attention was exactly what he got. You’d reinforced his behavior like an idiot.

You told yourself it was a chore, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d loved spending those nights in his bed, loved the way he was an expert at making you come undone with his body and his words.

It really had seemed like a good idea at the time. The right thing to do. However, it was quickly starting to seem like anything but.

You sighed as your mind tried its best not to travel back all those months. Dipping a teabag into the liquid, you mindlessly observed the customers in the cafe. Many of them were young, teenagers who were heading out before class.

You sighed as you recalled your own high school days, the times Hyunjin and you had hung out in a cafe much like this one.

“You don’t have to help me with this project, you know.”

“Ah, shush. It’s our final year. I’m not going to leave you alone.” He smiled as he flipped through his books, taking a sip of his coffee occasionally.

“You act like you’re not sticking to me like white on rice the rest of the year.” You roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself.

“Don’t get snippy with me, missy.” He smirked, still thumbing the pages nonchalantly. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

“You- I- what?” You wouldn’t admit it, but the thought caused a fluttering sensation in more than one place. It was a little bit of a shock, considering the two of you had done nothing more than make out and flirt, until now.

“Chill. I’m kidding.” He shook his head, looking up at you. “Unless…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop it! I’m supposed to be working right now.” You whined, swatting him with a rolled up paper.

“I don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Hm...do you know what I’m thinking of right now, Y/n?”

“W-what?”

“Thinking about how easy it would be to slip my fingers under your skirt and play with that pretty pussy of yours. I’m pretty sure it’s soaked your underwear through by now.”

Fuck.

Your cheeks flushed as you stared at your plate. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly- his mere words had already turned you to a mess.

“S-shut up.” You mumbled, reading out formulas aloud as you tried to divert your attention from it. Hyunjin let out a teasing chuckle at your lame attempt to change the topic, shaking his head as he stared at his book again, unaware you were looking over your own at him, pressing your thighs together subtly.

God, he was so...so annoying.

You snapped out of it, sighing as you looked around at the much less crowded cafe. Had it always looked so dull? So lifeless?

The thought of him was hurtful- it felt like a dull knife, screwing itself into you. Reminding you what you’d done.

You’d killed the love of your life.

And now? There was no way to bring him back.

***

“Murder is never something a superhero should resort to. A good hero always stays true to themselves- they only kill if it’s absolutely necessary.”

A cough.

“But of course...villains are exempt from that rule. Killing one villain’s life could save countless others.”

Hm. You weren’t exactly sure if your father was right. Although you were just a child, you still had some knowledge of morality.

Was he? Killing just...seemed wrong. You didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it, no matter how evil the person was.

“Surely there are other ways to neutralize someone evil, Father?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, before shaking his head coldly. “Untrue.”

“The truth is, some lives are expendable, my dear Y/n…” Another cough, before he cleared his throat and fixed his gaze back on you.

“You must always look for the greater good.”

***

You still remembered the day you first met Hyunjin.

He was 13, and you were just a little younger. Your families were good comrades and allies, so your eventual meeting had already been planned.

The two of you were in the living room with everyone else as they talked to each other, mingling and chattering like adults usually did. Hyunjin and you made an unanimous decision to sneak out to the rooftop, and get to know each other better.

“So...our parents are allies now, hm? This means we’re going to see each other a lot more.”

“Of course we are! We’re both prodigies, like my dad and your mom...we inherited their powers, so they’re obviously going to want to cultivate those.”

“You speak pretty fancy for a 12 year old.”

“Hey, so do you! Besides, we’re gifted, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He sighed, swinging his legs and inhaling. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again.

“Do you actually like having these powers?”

“Oh? Well, yeah...I do...my father tells me stories of his days as a superhero. I want to help people, just like him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d much rather live a normal life. Get a normal job, find someone to love, and have a normal marriage in a normal town.”

You pressed your lips together. “To each their own, I guess. Personally, I just want to get rid of all the evil in the world and make my father proud.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Evil…” He tapped his chin. “How does one even know the difference between good and evil?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure it would be obvious in every situation.”

“I disagree. The distinction is blurry. No one knows for sure, and definitely not at first glance.” He sighed. “I would know.”

You brought your knees to your chest as you observed the city below. “Well, I guess you’re right…” you paused, your heart feeling a little heavy for some reason.

“Do you know?”

“The line between good and evil is thin, Y/n. I can’t say I know for sure. But do you know what will always help you remember?”

“What?”

“Your heart.” He said softly, glancing at you and offering you a small smile.

“Just do whatever feels right...trust yourself.”

***

You sighed and shut your laptop.

Home. You needed to go home, cause your heart ached too much. You definitely weren’t ready to go back to work yet. You hadn’t done anything productive today really, just drink coffee and reflect on your actions. Regretting....regretting it all.

It’d been wrong. The wrong choice, the wrong decision.

You knew that, now. There could have been another way. You shouldn’t have rushed into it like that...how could you?

You felt a surge of hatred towards yourself engulf you. It was all your fault, this pain you were feeling. You didn’t have anyone to direct this immense anger towards except yourself. You realized this little fact in horror, your heart clenching as you wished things could have been different.

Finishing off your coffee, you placed a few bills on the table as you left the café, heading home. Ready to burrow under the blankets again, wallow in your self pity and pain. There wasn’t much else to do except succumb to acceptance.

You made your way down the street, humming the saddest song you knew under your breath.

All of a sudden, you felt eyes burning into your back. Your own eyes widening slightly, you turned around quickly-

But there was no one there.

Weird. Sighing, you decided to go back to going over your plans for tonight in your mind.

Maybe watch a movie in hopes of triggering some sort of emotion in you...or maybe take a bath, light some candles and listen to depressing music- shit.

It happened again. Someone was following you- you could feel it. Uncomfortable, your breathing slowly started getting heavier as you tried to formulate some kind of plan in your head-

The next thing that happened was so sudden you barely registered it for a second.

Your hand was gripped, so tightly you felt it would bruise. Aggressive, shocking and swift as lightning- it took several seconds before you realized someone was trying to kidnap you.

“Stop! Leave me alone!”

Struggling against the person holding you, you caught a glimpse of the masked man and decided to scream, hoping to gain some attention from somebody, anybody. There was no way this was happening, not right now. Your day had already been bad enough, why was the universe so intent on rubbing salt in your wounds?!

The urge to fight had never been stronger. Yet there was no strength left in your body. You couldn’t fight back against this man- he was taller than you and somehow even matched you in strength. Unless you exposed your powers, there was no way you would get yourself out of this predicament. Somehow you managed to smack him with your arm weakly, making him hiss.

“Let me go, please!”

The coffee cup fell out of your hand, brown liquid spilling all over the ground as you were pulled into the dark alley so quickly, no one would notice. Your eyes darted about in panic, trying to work out a possible escape route when the masked man caged you in, his arms on either side of you.

A horrible sense of déjà vu enveloped you. It’s all you can do to not scream, trying to keep yourself calm so that you could escape.

It’s ok, breathe in...and concentrate.

The heat within you started to crackle, your palms beginning to burn up gradually.

Your eyes blinked as you decided to try and take a good look at the person holding you. Their head was covered with a black mask, their finger held over their mouth as they ran their eyes over your distressed expression.

Inhale. Exhale.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, staying still and pretending to give up the struggle. “Unhand me now, or you’ll regret it, trust me-“

“Shh! Y/n, please…” He shushed you, his voice shaky.

You stopped in your tracks.

Huh?

That voice…

“I’ll explain... but first we need to get out of here, fuck-” He looked from side to side quickly, scanning his surroundings.

Shit. Why does that voice sound so familiar?

“Who- who are you?!” You managed to get out, the heat fading away as deep, panicked confusion took over you instead.

There was a small sigh as your assailant stood up a little straighter, groaning. And then, his fingers deftly pulled the mask off, clutching it in his hands tightly.

Golden locks spilled out, a handsome visage coming into view. Plump lips and beautiful eyes, looking oh so familiar.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck was going on?

It’s him.

But it can’t be.

How? It’s not possible-

You’re definitely losing your mind.

The man’s breathing got quicker as he watched your expression morph from fear into one of pure, electric shock.

“I know you’re shocked, Y/n, but please listen to-“

Your chest started heaving, quickly rising and falling as your heart pounded against your rib cage.

This...could not be happening. What was this? Was this a nightmare? Yet another sick, twisted dream? He couldn’t be standing right in front of you...it was impossible. No. No no no no no no no.

It was all too overwhelming, and your brain and body seemed to agree on that. Your mind swam, your thoughts all over the place as you felt yourself sway on your feet.

“This- I-“ You stumbled over your words, tears slipping past quickly as you tried to form words to express what you felt.

Pain. Searing pain, taking over, spreading from head to toe.

Your breathing slowed as the world suddenly went black, Hyunjin’s shouts in the background fading away...until there was nothing but silence.

Pure, unadulterated silence.

[hitory--chan]

Day 5: Queen of the Garden

(Ranked T)

Title: In my withered roses you lay resting

Around the forest there were always legends of all kinds, about fantastic creatures and horrifying monsters beyond human imagination, about nymphs, fairies, werewolves and giant snakes that would devastate the entire town in a few minutes if they wanted to; they were just legends, stories to amaze or scare whoever would listen to them, hypnotizing the virgin ear that listened to them with their magnetism, leading their victim to demand more, driving them mad in the search to satisfy that need.

But there was one in particular, the biggest, the most fantastic, the most sublime and the most terrifying no one ever dared to tell, the one whose existence was only known to the oldest of the town who defended tooth and nail its veracity, but nevertheless only tell each other, remembering and crying the intense agony that each word conveyed.

The legend of Hinata, the queen of the garden in the heart of the forest, and Sasuke, the infamous king who without any army was able to penetrate the invulnerable barriers that protected the queen.

The king who never returned.

“My King!” One of her courtesans shouted. "Please, I beg you to reconsider!"

He ignored her, tightening the draws of his armor as the guards placed the shoulder pads and handed him his helmet, which he took.

It was still dark, the moonlight hanging over the entire sleeping kingdom as he prepared to leave.

"My lord, he turned, now listening to his first officer, Kakashi, who was speaking to him "Are you sure this is a good idea? Going into the forest alone?"

"It's not something I didn't do before, Kakashi, you should know" he replied without much interest as he grasped the reins of Onyx, the majestic black horse that had accompanied him for years.

"I understand, but it's not the same, your majesty, it never got beyond the Stone River" the man said, his voice so slow and dull as if it was something he was trained to say, but Sasuke knew him better than many as to know that there was concern hidden behind those dead tones “It is a great risk to take to find a woman that we do not even know exists”

"People are dying Kakashi, of hunger, of disease ..." He inclined his head a little towards his first officer, not enough to really see him “If that woman, that… witch exists, it will be our chance to solve all the evils that afflict us, if I find her, then I save my people”

“And if you do not find her, my lord?”

“Then we will have to take more drastic actions, actions that I don't think we're ready for right now, Kakashi”

The silence that followed told Sasuke that the man knew what he was referring to.

They had recently fought a war against a rival kingdom that wanted to take over all his lands. They attacked in the middle of the night, cowardly seeking to have the tactical advantage darkness gave them without expecting the surprise that they were ready to fight back with much more violence than would be expected of a small kingdom that barely prospered in comparison to others. Many lives were lost on both sides, but his army had kept the slightest advantage over the invaders and captured the main officers of the intruders, executing him right on the battlefield as he had ordered them to do, closing any openings to negotiation the rival might propose.

They rose above them and conquered, drove the remaining invaders from their lands and proclaimed their victory, but they had not come out without casualties, as happened in any other war.

Their crops were burned and their women desecrated. Bodies of infants who had adventured out of their hiding spots now laying among the corpses of their fathers and men who sacrificed their lives in the name of the king's sovereignty, waiting to be buried or burned while their mothers, wives, and brothers mourned their losses.

Soon after came the diseases, plagues so violent that even the best physicians in the kingdom had succumbed to permanent contact with the infected and were now lying in beds, signaling with weak voices to proceed to their charges.

The only hope was the woman who dwelt in the depths of the forest, a queen in her own right, the oracle told him, whose miraculous fingers brought life to everything she touched. A witch, servant of the devil, counterattacked the priest, who would only bring bliss before plunging them further into misery.

A queen, a witch, Sasuke didn't care, he only wanted her hands to heal his people, determined to cut them off if necessary to save the few that were left.

Then Sasuke mounted his horse and reached out his hand, taking the sword that Kakashi had prepared for him and fastening it to his waist strap, where it would remain with him throughout his journey.

"Itachi will be in charge while I'm gone" he decreed, looking at his court, who looked at him in surprise and disbelief.

“My king, my lord!” The woman spoke again “His majesty is very ill for this task, I fear that his condition is too delicate to carry the role, your highness!”

“My brother already ruled once in a worse state than the one he currently is in while waiting for me to grow up to cede the throne, he certainly can do it a bit more while I'm gone”

“But sir…!”

"In case his condition worsens ..." he interrupted, with a tone of voice as icy as the look he gave the woman "in case he´s not an act to continue, then Kakashi will make all the decisions in my absence and my brother's disability”

Several indignant murmurs were heard from the other members of the court, annoyed by the possibility of a military man would rule them, but with the same look he gave the insolent woman, he quieted them all.

"Kakashi" he called and the man walked with him towards the limits of the kingdom that served as the border of the forest, trotting slowly as his first officer followed him with great ease "I trust you to keep everyone safe, especially my brother” he said, stopping his steed and staring at the man.

"My king's orders are my perpetual la," Kakashi recited, quoting the motto of imperial strength as he brought his right hand to his heart and bowed to him.

Sasuke nodded, but before starting his horse again, he spoke for the last time.

- And Kakashi ... execute her

Kakashi bowed again and Sasuke pulled the reins of his horse to start running, going into the forest when the first rays of dawn hit the ground, and knowing his order would be carried out without hesitation.

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

Inside the forest the thick trees hid any trace of the sun, giving the illusion that it was still night even though Sasuke knew it must be after eight.

Still he didn't back down, mentally reciting the directions the oracle had given him to find the mysterious woman.

“Once crossed the river of stone, the road will split for you, one more dangerous the other, competing for the new prey that appears before them. Be guided by the horrendous noises that make the bones of the strongest of men tremble, by the trail of perdition from which your eyes will not be able to turn away, from the putrid stench of those who defied the sanctity of the earth who stepped on impure feet.

Along the way you will find death's favorite resting place. Do not drink or eat the natural delicacies that will be shown for you, instead you must use your senses, facing the great beast that will attack from the shadows.

If the combat is satisfactory, then the beast will show its respects by leading you to its queen, otherwise, there will be the place of your last rest"

Naturally, oracles liked to be cryptic with their words to the point of making them indecipherable, but the more than a century old woman who had served three generations of her family had put those fanfare behind her, preferring to be as clear as possible in her revelations than risk a bad future for the kingdom because of misunderstandings out of her tongue.

Upon reaching the Stone River, he took a moment to observe the waters peacefully.

That river had been named this way not only because of the rock formation that simulated a natural bridge in the center of that great pool, just covering its surface with a thin layer of water that made it extremely slippery, but also because of the rock at its bottom, arranged in the shape of spikes so sharp that even the slightest fall on them could cause fatal injuries to the unfortunate victim.

He allowed Onyx to drink some of the water before venturing across the stone bridge.

His horse, fearless just like his owner, also had some afraid. On rare occasions he’d tried to cross that path through the waters with the equine, but his partner had acquired a phobia at that particular step when, being very young, he slipped on the stone and it was almost impossible for him to get back on his feet, almost falling to the bottom of the river when with desperate movements he slid to one side before finally reaching the bank of the river and climbing, being completely exhausted on the grass, all under the frightened gaze of his owner who had remained on dry land while his horse struggled.

He remembers that, after that, he had remained with Onyx there for longer than he ever was in that place, being found by the royal guard and brought to the castle only to remain expectant all night at the possibility of having to sacrifice the animal.

Now, Onyx was a majestic and imposing stallion with more history than half his stablemates, but from time to time he would turn back into a fearful foal when they were near that place.

However, while he normally wouldn't push him any further than he considered Onyx could take, this time around he couldn't afford to be understandable to his horse or to be left without a mount for the rest of the way.

“Come on boy!” He encouraged him, shaking the reins several times and smiling as Onyx, refusing at first, approached the rock and put his front legs on it, whinnying loudly as he took small terrified steps.

Even in the slippery material, the new horseshoes he had had his horse put on were being especially helpful in preventing the equine's legs from slipping over the rock even when Onyx's steps were somewhat shaky, leading the horse to gain a little confidence with every step until he was finally on the other side.

“Well done, Onyx!” He congratulated the horse, patting and stroking his neck before pulling out an apple, which he happily accepted.

He wasted no time and continued with the journey, reaching the place where the road divided in three.

At first glance they did not seem dangerous at all, leading him to wonder if the oracle had been wrong with her interpretation or if he had deviated from the correct path himself, but the sudden sound of something sliding on the ground caught his attention and put his whole body on guard again, waiting for any sign of attack.

Instead what he received was the cawing of birds, crows, he recognized, noises of something sliding and the screeching of bats that flew directly to his face at that moment, causing Onyx to panic and stand up on his two hind legs, almost making Sasuke to fall.

When he regained his balance and Onyx was back on all fours, Sasuke looked at the central path, remembering what the oracle had said and thinking that this should be the way to go, so he made the horse move forward, despite the reluctance of the animal.

The putrid stench started only a few minutes on the road before dead animals began to appear on the road, being replaced only a few meters later by human corpses in various states of putrefaction, from skeletons to bodies that should barely have been there for a few days. , and even recognized the uniform worn by the third-rank guards in his kingdom, only stuffed with bones, each corpse wrapped by vines and other local weeds.

He was forced to breathe as little as possible when the stench became impossible to bear, coming to vomit in the section where everything was strongest, without having the opportunity to breathe until the road began to clear of so much death, showing to his sight a great stone plateau clothed with climbing vines and rosebuds.

He got off his horse and gave him another snack, tying the reins to the tree farthest from the ferns and other plants full of fruit that he knew they shouldn't eat.

Slowly and carefully he approached the great structure, gazing at it in fascination. Up close, he noticed the spines that protruded around the roses of different sizes that decorated the plateau, which, he noticed, were deceptively sharp, cutting him at the simple touch and spilling a thick drop of blood that bathed the thorn that caused his wound.

The sudden tremor in his spine appeared as the slight trembling of the earth beneath his feet, accompanied by the sound of something sliding - something that must have been big and heavy, from the way it sounded - and then deafening silence was present. .

“Onyx!” He shouted, turning around when he heard the horse whinny and stop suddenly, expecting to meet the animal where he had left it, however in its place he found another type of animal, giant and with shiny black scales, which were only cut with the three red lines of scales on the tip of its tail, raised in the air with a swaying motion.

The gigantic snake kept its eyes fixed on his, hissing and showing off his forked white tongue.

Eyes wider than they had ever been in his life, he diverted them just a little to the rest of the great reptile's body, almost growling in pain at the bulge protruding from where, he guessed, was the stomach of the immense snake, sure it was the product of his horse swallowing.

Feeling the flame of fury ignite and grow in him, he grasped the hilt of his sword in a slow motion and drew it lightly, as the serpent rose a little higher above him.

With one swift movement he pulled it out completely as the snake lunged at him, barely being fast enough to avoid its jaws, but not fast enough to dodge its tail, which slammed it against a tree and left it stamped there until he nailed the sword almost halfway.

Even his powerful armor hadn't been enough to shield him from that blow, catching his breath cut short by the pressure of the limb that had held him captive, but he had no time to think about that as he tried to get away from the great perimeter that covered the snake.

The injured tail slammed into the ground next to him, causing him to stumble from the din it caused.

The reptile's head also collided with the ground a few feet from his back and then glided at high speed towards him, using its nose to push him up when he collided with him and sent him flying into the air as the snake rose again, now with its jaws open.

But Sasuke was able to hold on to the tip of the animal's nose and avoid being swallowed as he had done with his horse by resting his feet against the bottom of the snake's mouth and giving a little jump before it closed it, being helped by the impulse that the same reptile gave him before the abrupt movement it made while trying to make him fall.

Sasuke stayed on the snake's skull and held onto its scales as best he could before stabbing his sword - which he had clung to as much as he could during the attack - into one of the animal's eyes, which let out a shrill and strange sound before, to Sasuke's immense amazement, it made a 180 ° turn and threw himself hard against the floor, taking him with and crashing him on the flat surface, a blow so violent that it caused him to lose his helmet, his mobility and his strength.

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

Only seconds before he lost consciousness he saw the towering snake - now one-eyed - rise above him before launching itself with his jaws open just as Sasuke's eyes finally gave up.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the immense throbbing pain in his head that only got worse when he tried to open his eyes, being hit by the brightest sunlight that forced him to close them again.

Where had so much light come from?

After a while, and when he was sure he could resist it, he opened his eyes again.

It took him a long time to regain the clarity of his sight, but once everything was clear he was astonished at what he saw.

In front of him a large colorful space, green above all, stood proud in all that light. Huge trees were here and there, casting great shadows, covered with fruit in great quantity.

A few meters from him was a lake with crystal clear waters, reflecting everything that was shown from above.

It was only when a slight movement behind him caught his attention that he realized he had been leaning against something cold, and when he turned around he felt as if his entire being had left his body when he found himself face to face with the giant eye yellowish that he recognized instantly.

He backed away quickly, grunting in pain as his muscles protested at his sudden movements, but instead of stopping to ease them, he fought them and reached for his sword at her waist, surprised not to find it.

The snake stared at him for a few seconds before lazily deflecting its head toward the center of the thread that had turned its body.

—You must not fear, it will not hurt you

He turned quickly and looked around, searching for the soft voice that he had said those words.

"Onyx" he breathed out, seeing the mate he had thought he lost, now lying on the grass, asleep on the other side of the lake.

Naturally those words were not said by the animal, but by the other person next to it, who was gently stroking the mane of his horse.

Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe, incredulous of the moons that were his pupils, beautiful, and that without a doubt were looking directly at him.

The woman stood up and he could see her completely: snowy skin, long dark hair that swayed with every step she took. Her body was covered in leaves, branches and flowers that clung to her like a second layer. The upper part of her was covered by vines up to the middle of her breasts, being enough to cover the most. The lower part was a skirt, much less rigid than the upper one as it was made entirely of green leaves in different sizes, stopping only a few inches above her knees.

A long vine rested in the center of her abdomen, joining the two pieces as one.

She was barefoot and her hair was decorated with the most elaborate flower crown he had ever seen in his life.

As he passed by the lake, he stopped, crouching in the direction of the water, taking from the ground a large leaf of a plant that he did not recognize - and which he had not realized was lying there - and wrapped it gently until it formed a bowl that she plunged into the water until filled it, rising again and resuming its way towards him, now with the makeshift pot that spilled tiny drops from its bottom.

When she finally got to him, he saw her more clearly: thin and natural pink lips, a small and upturned nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes that only marveled her appearance even more, also highlighting the lack of the slightest freckle on her face.

She offered him the bowl but he did not take it at first, still fascinated and hypnotized by the beauty of the woman in front of him until she pushed it to his chest, forcing him to hold it as she took one by one his hands between her smallest and drew them to the sides of the blade, releasing it when she made sure his grip was firm.

She, with one of her index fingers, touched the surface of the water three times in different parts, and when her hand lowered three different flowers grew in the water: a lotus, a calla and a water lily, which immediately disintegrated and mixed with the liquid, giving it a color that ranged from pink to purple.

"Take it" she said, looking into his eyes "it will help you heal."

He didn't know why, but he obeyed her and took the entire tonic in one gulp, grimacing when the bitter taste of it touched his tongue and she slid down her throat.

She smirked and turned around, walking back to where Onyx was now awake, looking at them wearily.

"It's you" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, looking at her completely uncovered back as she walked away from him “The witch”.

Her walking stopped and she turned around again, looking at him now with a frown, offended.

“That's very rude!. I am not a witch" she protested "My name is Hinata Hyuga, and I am the queen of this garden" she said proudly, turning to resume her march as if her statement was enough to deny his word.

But he would not be fooled; he had witnessed for himself what she had done in the water she had given him to drink.

He looked around him and his sight fell on his sword and armor, arranged neatly on the grass near the giant serpent's tail.

Slowly and careful not to be heard he approached his things and took the sword at the same time that with difficulty he took three steps back as the snake's tail moved to hit the ground and then returned to its original position.

It took a bit of trouble, but he was able to raise his sword and hold it with both hands, directing the tip in the direction in which that woman - that witch - was, now again sitting on the grass, stroking the back of his horse, looking at him unimpressed.

"Witch, you will come with me" he demanded "Everything will be easier if you do not resist, you will get a decent treatment: you will sleep in the softest bed, you will wear the finest clothes ... otherwise, if you resist, you ... you ..." He stopped for a moment, not for lack of words, but from shortness of breath —If… if you resist… the dungeon… the smallest and dirtiest dungeon will be…

"You’re hurting them" she interrupted, and he didn't understand.

The witch looked down and he followed her eyes, stopping at the sword that was now stuck in the middle of a small group of flowers.

When had he lowered his sword?

“What did you do to me?” He growled, aware of the progressive loss of strength to which he was subjected.

"It's the medicine" said the witch, calmly "for your body to heal, it must first rest”

And as if that were a command, his body fell apart, causing him to fall to the floor on a tall grass bed that he could swear was not there a moment ago.

- Witch! ... You will pay...

Unconsciousness welcomed him.

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

When he woke up there was still sunlight, quite clear, so he thought that maybe he had only slept a few seconds, but the environment felt different from before and he could hear the distinctive galloping and neighing of Onyx, going here and there as his footsteps slightly covered the happy laugh of the female.

He could not move his body freely, only just his fingers, and mentally he cursed himself for having taken that concoction that this evil woman had given him, clearly using her sorcery to weaken him.

“Your body still needs rest” he could have shuddered at the sudden voice if it weren't for the fact that he was paralyzed, shortly afterwards the witch's face appeared in his visual range, tilted from above so he could see her “you´ve been very hurt by your confrontation with Munda, your injuries will take a little longer to heal”

He grunted, annoyed.

“Why have you risked your life to get here, mortal?” She asked him, now in a more serious tone.

Then and once again without really knowing why, he began to tell her about his kingdom, about the moments of wealth and prosperity before the war struck, about the deaths and the lack of food that besieged them, making their situation worse. He told her about his brother and his mysterious bedridden illness, about the sudden barrenness of his lands, and how he had preferred to make this trip alone rather than take away much-needed protection in case they tried again to invade them during his absence.

In her face there was no sorrow, annoyance or joy for their misfortunes, instead it was pure curiosity what he could see while he finished explaining the reason why he was looking for her.

"Okay, I'll go with you" she answered with conviction.

He, who had gradually regained mobility to the point where he could now sit up and the waves of heat attacked him insistently, looked at her in surprise, unable to avoid questioning her decision.

"I'll go with you" she confirmed again "However, the starting path is more dangerous than the one you traveled to get here, so you will have to make a full recovery first" She stood up and looked at him “I cannot be away for long, this place depends on me, so I will help your people and leave immediately, it is my only condition”

He watched her, almost denying immediately that he could leave that easily, but he was quick enough to bite his tongue before speaking.

"Okay, then we have a deal" he agreed.

She nodded pleased and stood up, walking away from him and up a tiny hill where she began to press with her fingers the closed buds and the withered flowers that surrounded her, opening and coming back to life with the simple touch of her.

Despite having accepted, in his mind they only danced ways of how he would interrupt her departure, it would be very foolish of him to let her go that easy, a person with her abilities, whether witch or not, was unique, one in a million , and no self-respecting kingdom would let her go that easily.

He could try to convince her by showing her everything that she obviously didn't have in her "garden", the wonders of modernity, and if that couldn't convince her, well, he had dungeons at his disposal that he could trick her into or even without them, but surely he would not lose those abilities from his hands.

Satisfied with that plan, he began to touch the back of both of his hands, searching and removing the splinters that he did not know how he has nailed himself.

Even though Hinata's tonics were helping him recover faster than he normally would, it felt like it was actually taking forever.

There, the days and nights seemed to last longer than normal, as if the clock had 36 hours instead of 24.

Each remedy that Hinata gave her were different and she healed something different, like the one she used to make his bruises disappear, which were a combination of wild flowers and citrus fruits that melted in the water as soon as she created them and released. Those bruises that would normally take a week or more to fade, she had done it in almost three days.

The problem is that she could only give him a tonic for one thing at a time, along with the first one that she had given him so his body relaxes and rests.

Now he was drinking one that she claimed would help with his internal ailments, and he guessed she was referring to the bruised bones that barely allowed her to walk or breathe. This was particularly bitter and she had to take it several times a day, which was a mini torture considering that these wounds would take even longer to heal.

He was washing his armor when he heard her scream.

“No! Go away, you can't be here!”

His skin prickled when she heard it. Had someone entered that place? An ally or an enemy? The great snake that was supposed to be the only one that could make someone else reach that place, Munda, hadn't moved from the rock it had spread on the day before, almost looking dead if it weren't for the hiss it left escape from time to time, maybe someone had found a way to enter without facing the great reptile?

“No! Get away!”

Wasting no time he dropped the piece of armor he was washing into the water and instead grabbed his sword, gripping it tightly and ran - or rather, he limped quickly - looking beyond the trees and bushes until he saw her midnight hair, covered with small flowers of various colors, and he went quickly towards her, who kept her fists clenched and her arms stiff down, slapping the floor with one foot while she kept yelling at whoever was there to leave.

But as he got closer to her, he still couldn't see anyone else; maybe it was some invisible person? It would not be unreasonable to think about that.

Finally, when he got to her side, he saw whoever caused her annoyance.

"This… creature…" she began, making an exasperated gesture with her hand at the wild boar that nonchalantly ate the blackberries from the orchard it raided "This annoying creature won't go away!" I've tried everything but it keeps coming back”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“So much fuss over a wild boar?”

“Is this the name of this demon spawn?” She asked him, looking at him intensely "Do you know him?"

"It's a wild boar, there are hundreds of them in the forest" he said more calmly, dismissing the accusation of her previous question.

“Hundreds?!” She gasped in disbelief.

"Calm down, just ... get rid of him."

“I´ve tried it! But this ... boar keeps coming back”

He let out an exasperated sigh, thinking of suggesting of making her pet snake eat the animal, but dismissed the idea as he thought the reptile was pretty useless when it don´t came to attacking and killing unsuspecting humans and their horses near the plateau of stone.

Since he first woke up he had only seen it move a few inches and change position, so another idea occurred to him.

“Can you hold it?” He asked him “with your ivy?”

She looked at him curiously and suspiciously, but instead of answering vocally, she raised a hand and made a few short movements with her fingers before clenching her fist, catching the animal that began to screech in panic.

He approached it, and with a certain movement, cut off it head.

When he heard her loud gasp he looked back and there she was, her brows furrowed, her eyes staked and both of her hands covering her mouth.

He looked back at the now dead animal, grabbed it head and raised it before asking.

“Do you know fire?”

.

.

.

Sasuke sat on a rock while at the same time bringing the now cooked boar meat to his mouth, biting off a large chunk and tearing it from the rest so he could eat it.

Sitting on another rock on the other side of the bonfire he had made, Hinata found herself with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, looking at him with such intensity as if she wanted to make his head explode with just her powerful gaze.

She was upset with him, that was clear. Since he had killed the animal and cut its meat into smaller portions so he could stick them into branches and put them on the fire to cook.

The turning point, however, was when he gathered branches and leaves and started the fire that he had surrounded with rocks of different sizes as a barrier so that the fire did not spread.

Apparently, she could forgive him for killing an animal even if she was clearly against it, but lighting wood and using leaves as a burning material was where she drew the line, practically declaring enmity at the prolonged silence she had maintained.

It was funny to tell the truth, even if preparing that meat and the dressing he had bathed it with to give it a little more flavor had been torture for his sprained wrist, it was worth it if I could see her normally relaxed and smiling face distorted with annoyance and disappointment, her lower lip sticking out childishly.

Furthermore, and despite the wide variety of fruits she had been feeding him - more delicious than he had ever eaten - he had really missed the taste of meat on his palate.

“Hey!” He called her even though it wasn't necessary, since she hadn't taken her gaze from him for a second. "Try a little" he said, spreading some meat even though he was too far for her to reach.

That scandalized her.

“I will not do it!” She vigorously refused, looking quite offended by his proposal “I'm not a savage!”

"Me neither" he said, shrugging even though he wanted to burst in laughs at her expression.

“You are eating a living being”

“You eat the children of your plants, but I don't judge you for doing that”

The expression on her face finally overcame him, making him laugh.

With difficulty and care, he rose to his feet and walked around the fire, sitting next to her and extending with his good hand the piece of meat he himself had previously been eating.

"Try a little" he repeated, but she pursed her lips and turned her face away, refusing.

“No, I do not like”

"You can't say you don't like it if you haven't tried it yet" he told her, repeating the words his mother had repeated so much to the fussy eight-year-old he was.

But she kept refusing, so he took another approach they used to use with him when he was especially difficult to feed: negotiation.

"How about this" he began “If you try a little of this, I promise I won't complain and take all your strange meds even if they taste like hell itself, you don't have to like it, just try a little”

She looked at him scrutinizingly, apparently looking for some kind of dishonesty, but he just brought his injured wrist to the center of his abdomen, in a well-camouflaged dirty little manipulative move, which he knew was working when she looked at his wrist and then again to in his eyes.

“Just a little?” He nodded "And will you take the medicine without complaining?" He affirmed again.

Hinata closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out again in the form of a long sigh.

She opened her eyes again, now with a look of determination and nodded.

He smiled and brought the meat to her mouth.

“W-wait!” she yelled, holding his wrist.

He was really having a hard time not laugh again.

Without letting go his wrist, she barely opened her mouth and bit into some of the meat, chewing it and stopping after swallowing it.

He looked at her expectantly, watching as she frowned again and sudden tears began to fall from her eyes.

Was it really that bad?

He began to feel guilty for forcing her to do so, but he was surprised when she now took a bigger bite, taking the meat from his hand to grab it herself, saying between sobs

"It's good!" she sniffed and cried harder as she ate more of it.

________________________

That night he woke up because of the pain that attacked his healthy wrist, grunting and looking for the reason for that, and when he looked at it, he was surprised and out of breath to see how a bracelet of branches wrapped him, which would not be a problem if it was not for the fact that they seemed to come straight out of his skin.

________________________

Another few days passed and he had kept thinking a lot about his situation.

Due to his suspicions, he decided to do an experiment.

For a few days he stayed especially close to her, touching her skin with his fingertips in the most subtle way he could, leading him to offer help during the moments when she did her self-imposed tasks that were not really necessary - there was not much to entertain herself with, he supposed — and despite confusion at his sudden need to help, she agreed and directed him what to do, frustrating him when any of those tasks kept him away from her.

But at the end of the day he touched her enough without going overboard - tapping her shoulder to get her attention or patted it awkwardly as he congratulated her with a "good job" - and then he walked away from her and went to the makeshift cot she had created for him, leaving her more confused than at first.

The first night he waited awake for something to happen, for the branches to start coming out or for his skin to turn green, he wasn't entirely sure what could happen, but he waited.

And he received nothing.

He repeated the experiment several more times and nothing happened, so he thought maybe it was a side effect of the last potion she had given him to drink? It would make sense that his body is no longer producing more vegetation by changing the type of medicine she was giving him, and it would also make sense that she did not know that effect as something out of the ordinary, since her own body seemed to produce by itself the plants that dressed her.

Then he forgot the topic, classifying it as a one-time occurrence.

Until he wasn't.

That morning, when he no longer had any kind of ailment and was beginning to feel he was finally regaining his strength, he had helped Munda - who, he learned, was really peaceful when he was not protecting the entrance to that garden - to get rid of the little debris that had stuck to him after his last shedding of skin.

"Good work," Hinata said, patting him on the shoulder as best she could since he was significantly taller than her “Munda's shedding of skin is usually a disaster because it is more resistant than normal, so I always have a hard time cleaning it when it's in season” she revealed, now with her hand fixed on his shoulder “you are very good at that”

He accepted her congratulations with a small hint of pride on her chest.

They passed the day with normally, and at night, while taking a bath in the lake, a sudden pain attacked his shoulder.

When he tried to move his shoulder in circles, he couldn´t, the pain and stiffness prevented him from the slightest movement, then he brought his other hand over said shoulder to try to massage himself, but when he felt his fingers prick, He stopped.

Surprised, he looked at his shoulder and couldn't believe what he saw: it was covered in thorns right where Hinata had touched it.

The fire of anger ignited in him and spread like forest fire, was that it? Her hands? Were her hands causing his body to produce leaves and thorns as if it were a simple plant? Although, now that he thought about it, he had been a fool not to realize it before, after all, she was nothing more than a witch whose hands could grow trees and flowers out of nowhere.

He had been fooled. He had let his guard down and this witch was turning him into another plant in her garden.

Who many more had she done this to?

He looked at the surrounding trees for the hint that any of them were once a man, but he had done his job so well that there was not the slightest trace of a previous humanity in them.

Angry, he left the lake and put on his pants, not caring they were dirty and dusty from the activities he had done that day. He dressed in his armor and took the sword with him, searching for Hinata and finding her, as always, in the center of the small flower-covered hill that surrounded her.

His quick and heavy steps caught his attention, turning and smiling at him when she saw him approaching, but that expression quickly changed when he entered, stepping carelessly on the flowers that she loved so much.

"Sasuk ..!"

"In two days we will leave," he interrupted, placing the sword under her chin and applying enough pressure so the tip dug lightly into her neck, hurting her “I have already lost a lot of valuable time with your stupid games, as of today, I command”

He turned around without giving her the opportunity to speak and went to the farthest part of that garden, where he found what seemed to be the oldest tree of all, the most leafy, where he sat down and pressed his back against it, crossing his arms with his sword still in his hand, quickly creating in his mind all the logistics of what he would do next.

______________________

The desperate neighing of Onyx woke him up.

He hadn't realized when he had fallen asleep, but it seems as if the apocalypse had taken place once he closed his eyes.

He blinked, trying to clear the blurry view of him until everything was terrifyingly sharp.

In front of him, Onyx kept crying, rising on his hind legs and then dropping the front legs in heavy blows, kicking up the dust with each fall.

It was daytime, he could tell, but the whole environment was so bleak that his brain had a hard time understanding it.

He looked around him, all the space that had previously been green and colorful had turned to the darkest gray he had ever seen. The trees shed their leaves at an impressive speed, the same ones that were now on the ground, surrounding him.

He tried to take one, but the blades were so brittle they broke with the simple touch.

"Onix, take it easy" But the horse ignored him; instead, he whinnied louder as if urging him to stop and then ran, leaving him behind.

He walked carefully, looking everywhere: the bushes were dry but still held some of their fruits, of which he took one and put it in his mouth only to spit it out instantly, disgusted by the horrible taste of the previously delicious blackberry had taken. As he walked, a foul stench began to fill his nostrils, aggravating the closer he got to the lake, until he realized that was where it came from. The waters, previously clean and clear, were now as black and thick as tar.

What was happening?

It didn't take long for him to find the cause.

Still on the small hill was Hinata, motionless and with her head bowed, the flowers around her were wilted. Munda surrounded the hill, making a great circle with its whole body, as trying to be a wall of protection for her owner.

The great snake gave him a warning hiss, glaring at him, now with both of its healthy eyes, as if it was challenging him to come closer.

Even with the threat of the reptile, he did, he knew how protective he was, but he had learned that in here Munda was more like a puppy playing at being brave than the gigantic and terrifying snake really was.

Already within the circle of protection of him everything was more horrible, here the flowers were not withered, and instead they seemed burned. Hinata's body remained immobile, not even seemed to breathe, and when he surrounded her and was face to face with her, he was surprised by the horrible state that in just a few hours she had gotten.

Her skin was as gray as the rest of the earth, her previously pink lips were now dangerously close to black, almost all the flowers in her hair and crown had lost their petals and the ones that remained would fall at any moment. Her eyes were open and she kept them that way, without blinking, and the only sign that told him there was still life in her was the trail of tears that fell without stopping.

He crouched in front of her and called out, but he didn't get the slightest bit of recognition from her.

He grabbed her face and winced at the ease of movement he had from her, even if her body seemed stiffer than could be possible.

Then the dark green trail that fell from her throat to her abdomen caught his eye, and he felt as if he had been hit with the strongest metal as he remembered what he had done.

Was this his fault?

"Hinata," he called her, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes, which seemed to be empty. "Hinata, I'm sorry."

But his attempts were in vain because she did not respond or make the slightest movement that indicated she would do it at some point.

Desperation began to fill him and he didn't know what to do, stroking her face and trying to wipe the tears away, but they kept falling and instead, sliding over and around his thumbs, mocking his unsuccessful attempts to stop them.

Then, in a moment of utter despair he did something he had only thought would happen in his dreams, and kissed her.

His lips froze over the cold, chapped of hers, and all ambient sound that he had previously not actively noticed disappeared. He made no move, just stood with his lips joined, praying inside his mind for a reaction, until her lips trembled.

One sob left them, then two, until it was totally a symphony of wailing.

He hugged her and pressed her to his chest, quietly apologizing to her and preferring to hear her cry than remain in the deathly silence of moments ago.

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

Recovery was slower than he could have imagined. While it took less than one night to produce the disaster, fixing it was a matter of a long time.

She avoided talking to him and he couldn't blame her, not after all that he´d caused.

She was just getting back to her normal color and at the same time so did her garden, slowly returning to the green it was when he had arrived.

He hadn't given her a reason for his action in the first place, and he didn't think he'd do it sometime soon - never, if he could.

He just helped her silently, discovering that when he kissed her, she recovered a little more.

So he kept doing it, morning, afternoon and evening, until the pink on her cheeks appeared and the flowers in her hair began to bloom.

That, however, came at a price, and it didn't take long for him to realize that the mere touch was more powerful than that of her fingers.

It first reflected on his nails, which turned brown and their textures became like that of a tree trunk. Then on his chest, where leaves and thorns came out again.

It was a much faster process than he had thought.

"I think we can leave tomorrow" were the first words she spoke to him after days of silence, smiling shyly at him, speaking in a low voice.

He nodded as best she could, his neck stiff from the changes taking place in him.

That day his feet stuck to the ground, and pulling them off felt as if he had lost a limb.

"Sasuke" Hinata called him the next morning, worried about what she was seeing. "Since when has this been happening?"

He looked at her, but he didn't answer.

He was still lying on his grass cot, trapped by the ivy that had tightly encircled his arms, torso, and legs to keep him in place.

"Wait." The desperation in Hinata's voice was palpable, but he could barely recognize anything.

With her hands, Hinata touched the plants on top of him, but was surprised to see that instead of obeying her and disappearing, they seemed to tighten around Sasuke.

She looked at her hands without understanding what was happening and tried again, her eyes clouding over as she obtained the same result as the first time.

The tears left her eyes and the sobs soon appeared the more she tried and failed, becoming more energetic and miserable with every second more.

"Hinata," he called out, barely a hoarse whisper as he felt a new plant grow from his stomach and slide its roots through his esophagus, slowly exiting his mouth "There is no time for me…”

“Do not!" She shouted shakily" Don't say that!”

“S. Save them ... my people ...” he said, barely breathing.

"I-I will, but-but first ..." A sob interrupted her "you first..."

Sasuke wanted to deny, but he had neither the strength nor the mobility to do so.

"There ... there is ... no time for ... me" he repeated.

“Sasuke”

“Please”

Without finding the words to answer him, she just nodded.

Sasuke smiled and looked at her, grateful as a single tear slid down the side of his face as more roots came out of his mouth.

"Thank you" he said, his voice cracking, closing his eyes, "I lo ..."

But he couldn't finish his sentence, losing the last breath he had and finally letting the roots slide out of his mouth and dig into the ground beneath him.

A heartrending scream came from Hinata's mouth, the loss, for the first time in hundreds of years, completely ripping her apart.

She cried over his body, feeling a pain much worse than that of a few days ago completely invade her, feeling again how she was fainting rapidly.

But she still had one last promise to keep.

Unwilling to leave him, Hinata placed both hands on the ground and gathered all of her strength, screaming as she transferred her power beyond the forest, filling all around with the life that he had come looking for.

The earth shook and great thorny walls rose above all of her garden, joining in the center without closing completely, and leaving a small gap through which the sunlight entered.

Exhausted, she walked to where Sasuke's body lay covered in roots and she dropped down beside him, placing a hand on his chest, slowly closing her eyes and melting into him.

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

From the highest tower of the Uchiha castle, the cries of the courtesans invaded the room of King Itachi, whose body was covered by a white sheet as his court surrounded him.

"You did it, my king," Kakashi whispered, watching from the window as the kingdom began to fill with the vivid green of the growing plants and the colorful buds of flowers and fruit that followed them, though his attention was really fixed on the large bud that it had formed in the farthest part of the forest.

While, at the gates of the kingdom, Onyx the steed without his king arrived.

@sasuhinamonth

[crystalbahamut]

pounds of flesh

FFXIV Write Day 3: Scale

Summary: The Exarch is familiar with tactics used to dodge those most dangerous of creatures (Healers) and offers you his assistance.

Author’s note: Am currently ignoring the fact that there’s no faucet in the Pendant room (that I could find) because that seems inconvenient for such an otherwise nice kitchenette. The prompt started me off with the idea of scaling a staircase feeling on par with scaling a mountain but it sort of veered off from there. I really loved this prompt though; there are so many ways to take it.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified WoL, non-healing WoL (kind of), 2nd person pov, WoL/Exarch, overworking oneself on purpose

Words: 1,876

 ---

You might have gotten a little bit…carried away today. Triffids, hoptraps, wargs, and more; you had carried out a number of quests to reduce the threats posed to those traveling the roads of Lakeland, and that wasn’t even counting the morning spent in Rak’tika helping out the Night’s Blessed with some of their chores. You don’t mind– it’s nice to be helpful, good, necessary even– but now that everything aches and some of the cuts have opened up again you wonder if maybe you took it a little far. All you wanted to do was make sure you slept well tonight, but even taking the intercity aetheryte was too much to ask of your energy stores. You have scaled cliffs and mountains, but right now the thought of scaling the steps to your room is making you want to find a place the guards don’t patrol and just lay on the ground. It’s a good thing the manager is on break right now, or you’d have to field some uncomfortable questions about why you’re just standing around, staring.

“There you are.”

You flinch. Mayhap the manager would have been the lesser of two well-intentioned evils, considering the Exarch sounds…not exactly smug, but knowing. You stand taller and clear your throat. “Evening Exarch,” you say. “Did you need something?”

“Not precisely, though I am wont to worry when you stay out so late,” he says and steps towards you.

That…you almost turn around for that. He worries? You shake your head; of course he worries, you are (supposedly) the one hope for the world’s survival. ‘Tis nothing more than prudence. “Nothing to worry about; I’m quite fine.”

“Oh?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he comes around your side, and you quickly look away. “Should I be flattered that you seem to be emulating me?”

You scowl and pull the head covering down farther. How in the world does he see anything like this? “You didn’t invent hooded robes, Exarch.”

“No, I did not,” he chuckles. “However I have not seen you wearing one, until now.”

“Mayhap I simply felt like it.”

“Mayhap you did,” he says. “Or mayhap you are trying to hide a head wound incurred when a lake viper used its tail to swat you into a tree.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that. “You know, nobody likes a know it all,” you grumble and try to sink into your shoulders. One of these days you are going to break that damn magic mirror of his.

“My dear warrior,” he sighs as though indulging you in a whim. “What would it take for you to accompany me to Spagyrics?”

You turn to give him a look of incredulity and then realize that probably isn’t very effective. However he sighs and says, “I see.”

“Do you?” you ask. “I can’t see anything like this; I don’t know how you do it.”

He doesn’t take the bait, unfortunately. “Would you allow me to see to your wounds then?”

“I can heal myself.”

“If you could, you already would have.” He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, though right on a sore spot that twinges, and you try not to wince. “I would just like some assurance you are well enough. If you are uncomfortable with me, I can fetch one of the Scio-”

“You,” you say immediately and take his arm. You pull back the hood to see with your good eye and find his mouth partly opened in surprise. “I trust you.” Also, if Alisaie or Y’shtola see you in this state, they will put you out of their misery. But you meant what you said. You do trust him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, as though he’s honored, and the wondrous tone of his voice is enough to give you the energy to make it up the stairs and to your room.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone manage to limp so successfully on both legs before,” the Exarch says and goes to the cupboard where the first aid kit lives.

“It’s not that bad– though I’m going to warn you that I’m a bit dirty so it probably looks worse than it is,” you say and pull off the robe. Gently, as everywhere it touches seems to throb with new pain, or maybe the fatigue is getting to you. While he’s turned around you quickly (ow) change into some shorts and a tank top and sit on the bench by the door.

When he turns around the Exarch actually stops in his tracks. “Wicked white,” he says and sighs. “If Chessamile saw you like this…”

“The Warrior of Darkness would be ended by the wrath of a bypassed healer.” You put a finger to your lips. “But surely now my trusty accomplice will help me.”

He smiles again, though he looks like he’s trying to wrangle it back into a disapproving frown. “Extortion now, is it?” he asks as he starts filling a bowl with water.

“I think your offer belied the feelings of one used to dodging chirurgeons,” you say and give yourself a quick check to make sure anything that needs treating is visible. Thankfully your torso just endured some bruising; it’s your limbs that took the brunt of everything. And your head, you’re reminded as you try to gingerly scrape off some of the dried blood and accidentally reopen the wound, making fresh blood course back down over your eye. “Oops.”

“Perhaps I have, but even my own injuries pale in comparison. I can see why any healer would have their hands full with you,” the Exarch says as he comes over to take your hand, shove some cloth in it, and force you press it hard against the cut. “Pray just hold that there for now.”

Now that you’re able to relax and do nothing, exhaustion courses through your bones and you do as he bids if only because anything else is far too much effort. You struggle to stay awake as he pulls over a chair, the medical kit, and the bowl of water, and blink yourself back to consciousness when he sits down.

“Are there any sprains?” he asks as he looks over the injuries.

“My right ankle feels a bit funny, and I think I pulled something in my left thigh, but mostly I’m just scraped up,” you say. He dabs some of the scratches with the clean water and it’s uncomfortable but not unbearable. You almost start to fall asleep with his gentle ministrations.

But when he presses a new, slightly damp cloth to those scrapes, the stinging wakes you right up. “Thal’s balls!” you hiss and resist the urge to rip his hands away. On the plus side, your head has stopped bleeding again; now it only throbs as you set the bloodied cloth aside and try to quell the nausea caused by pain.

“I apologize,” he murmurs and dabs it more gently. It’s not a good feeling but you can bear it a little easier now that you know it’s coming. He clears his throat. “What were you working on so frenetically today?”

“Huh?” You think about the question. “Oh– nothing much really; I was just taking a few jobs here and there.”

“Are you in need of gil?” he asks and lifts his head. Presumably to look at you. “Surely some of these jobs could have waited another day?”

You take the washcloth and wring it out before you start cleaning your other leg, and then your arms. It will help him get through this easier. And it also makes it so you don’t have to look at him now. “They could have. But I wanted them done.”

“Because you plan to take the day for yourself tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” you say. “Perhaps this is how I want to spend my days.”

“Working yourself to the bone when you already do so much?” He finishes wrapping your ankle and grabs your hand. He says your name gently, without reproach. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” You shut your eyes. “Sometimes…I just want to sleep. That’s all.”

“I see,” he says and doesn’t press for more. If this were Alphinaud you wouldn’t be able to escape without some awkward attempt at platitudes on his end, or Urianger, who would try to make suggestions while also nearly putting you to sleep with one of his lectures, but the Exarch keeps tending to you with hands that are gentler than they have any right to be.

When he starts treating the cut on your head it’s a good excuse to close your eyes, but even without some supposed excuse you don’t think you would do any differently. He’s so…gentle. Healers, even the kindest ones, are all business– as they should be, as they’re always the ones that have to make sure everyone is fighting fit for the next catastrophe. But the Exarch touches you so tenderly, like he wants to put you back together piece by piece, with soothing motions and soft brushes of skin, and crystal that’s warmer than it looks, and it’s all you can do to keep from falling apart in his capable hands.

“One moment, my warrior,” he murmurs and you realize you’re halfway to sleep by the fact that you can’t seem to open your eyes when he leaves, but it doesn’t bother you overmuch. When he comes back and nudges you to stand, you manage to do so, but you still don’t open your eyes even as you shuffle over to the bed with his help. You sit on sheets– the cover has been pulled back already, you realize with delayed thoughts as the Exarch tucks you in. You’ll be mortified in the morning, but for now…

“I pray sweet dreams find you tonight, my warrior.”

You think you imagine the gentle kiss placed upon your brow, but in case this isn’t some lovely dream and he is still around to hear it, you whisper, “Thank you.”

 The next morning finds you sore and a little stiff, but you can recognize that you’re better off than you would have been otherwise.

You also find a collection of medicinal-looking mixtures all lined up in bottles in a neat little row on the table. And, when you go over to investigate, a note from the Exarch.

 My dear warrior,

Though it is not a happy thought, there are many in Norvrandt who share your desire for uninterrupted sleep, as well as your difficulties attaining it. These elixirs each have their own cards describing ingredients and dosage; if you find one to your liking, it would be a simple matter of requesting more, and I should be delighted to do so.

Also, if you ever find the climb to your room to be too arduous, perhaps the smaller staircase leading to the tower itself would be less of a strain. Once inside, there are easier ways to get around that I would be happy to show you.

With fondest wishes,

The Crystal Exarch

 You smile and fold the letter back up. An easier way to the Ocular, hm? You’d like to see that. Perhaps now is a good time to stretch your legs and make the climb.

[acesydneysage]

A Sydney and Eddie retrospective

@vablappreciationweek Favorite familial relationship: The Melrose Twins

Part 1, Books 1-3: The Nice, Cute Trilogy Where a Friendship Blooms and Nothing Bad Happens

Part 2

In Bloodlines, Sydney and Eddie are still getting to know each other. Eddie seems to find Sydney's awkwardness endearing, and they have a certain camaraderie as The Responsible Ones. I think the first time he calls her sis is really cute, even if they don't actually think of each other as siblings yet:

I guess I shouldn’t say everything that comes to mind,” I murmured to Eddie. I was used to being direct in social situations, but it occurred to me that simply saying “Yeah, totally!” would’ve probably been the correct response. I’d had few friends my own age and was out of practice. Eddie grinned at me. “I don’t know, sis. You’re pretty entertaining as you are. Keep it up."

There's a lot of cuteness. Eddie insists on teaching Sydney how to throw a puch, to keep his promise to Clarence. And there's this adorable little fist bump too:

I returned to my desk and received an approving fist bump from Eddie. “Nice work. You don’t have to take a real class. Of course, if she’s got you reading Latin, maybe it’ll be worse than a real class.” “I like Latin,” I said with absolute seriousness. “It’s fun.” Eddie shook his head and said in a very, very low voice: “I can’t believe you think we’re the strange ones.”

That last line brings me to the conflict. Even if the power dynamics for it to be oppression aren't there (and Eddie can't exactly claim his society treats humans amazingly well in my opinion), having someone think that you're an evil, unnatural creature cannot be fun. They mostly don't let it get too far because they're both very professional, so what you get is a thoughtless comment from Sydney and answering jab from Eddie.

“Even a dhampir like you should know that.” He smiled ruefully. ‘“Even a dhampir like me?’” I supposed I’d been a little insulting, but it couldn’t be helped. [...] That wry smile returned. “Everything’s black and white with you Alchemists, isn’t it? Do you think you can really stop her from doing anything? You should know better. Even your childhood couldn’t have been that abnormal.” With that slap in the face, Eddie stalked off, leaving me aghast.

The more explicit conflict they have surrounds Jill's dating life, and the taboo of vampire/human relationships, and that's how we get Lee. The mini-golf family outing is very cute, the twins actually talk in sync at one point, Eddie steps up when he thinks Adrian is making Sydney unconfortable, and he claims that the Dracula statue incident is the first time he heard her laugh. But of course it leads to trouble in the form of Jill's escapade with Lee.

When Sydney explodes about feeling like their mom afterwards (I love that speech), Eddie is included for not scaring off Micah. He's honestly regretful about not pulling his weight, even though she says he's not as bad as the others. I think their relationship is pretty smooth from then on. After that talk they seem to understand each other better.

“Spirit users can take antidepressants, can’t they? If he’s worried about it becoming a problem, then he needs to step up and take charge. He has a choice. He’s not helpless. There are no victims here.” Eddie studied me for several seconds. “And I thought I had a harsh view on life.” “You have a harsh life,” I corrected. “But yours is built around the idea that you always have to take care of other people. I was raised to believe that’s necessary sometimes but that everyone still needs to try to take care of themselves.” “And yet here you are.”

The similarities between Sydney and Eddie's worldviews should be taken as a sign that Guardian ideology is about as messed up as Alchemist ideology, to be honest. But other than her hang-ups about vampires she always thought pretty highly of him:

Eddie was the one who finally spoke, his words soothing and kind. He so often gave off the impression of a do-or-die warrior that it was surprising to realize he was actually very compassionate.

Once Adrian tells her about Mason, she has more insight into the tragic past he hides behind his easygoing nature. I'm keeping this the happy post,more on Eddie's tragic past on the next one. By the end of the book, they've spent a more significant amount of time together, and even though Sydney is not great a reading people and Guardians are probably very good at hiding their feelings, she's the one who notices his feelings for Jill, because she's the one who's paying attention to him.

In The Golden Lily, Sydney is already pretty fond of the whole gang (and feeling pretty conflicted about it), and they clearly like her a lot, too. She spends only a weekend away and she already misses all of them. Eddie is so relieved she's back in town to save him from the crazy. There's more talk about their similarities, "Like me, he understood duty", and they continue to have Mom Friend and Dad Friend solidarity:

Jeans, khakis, a few solid colored T-shirts. They were very practical, very much something a no-nonsense guy like Eddie would pick out. I approved. “The size actually looks right. Good eye. We’ll have to send you out shopping more often.” “If that’s what I have to do,” he said, face serious. I couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “I was joking.” I put the shirts back in the bag. “I know that couldn’t have been fun.” Eddie’s face gave nothing away. “Oh, come on. It’s okay. You don’t have to play stoic with me. I know you didn’t enjoy it.” “I’m here to do a job. Doesn’t matter if I enjoy it or not.” I started to protest but then thought better of it. After all, wasn’t that my philosophy too? Sacrificing my own wants for higher goals? Eddie was intensely dedicated to this mission. He never backed down. I expected nothing less from him than single-minded focus. [...] “Sydney,” he said gently. “You’re the most responsible person I know, but this isn’t what you’re here to do. You don’t have to take care of everything and everyone.” “I don’t mind,” I said automatically. “It is what I’m here for.” But even as I said it, I wondered if that was true. A bit of the anxiety from the bunker returned, making me question if what I did was truly Alchemist responsibility or the desire to help those who—against protocol—had become my friends. “See? Now you sound just like I did earlier.” He stood up and flashed me a grin. “You want to come with me to Adrian’s? Be responsible together?”

Of course by this point Sydney is unconfortable with her image as the hyper responsible one who's all about duty and never has fun. With Sydney encouraging Eddie in his feelings for Jill, and Eddie thinking Sydney going out on a date isn't a bad idea, thoughout TGL they're telling each other that it's okay to have feelings and relax a little, and not be completely focused on duty all of the time. "I'm not gonna do it, but you totally should."

Sydney explicitly thinks of Eddie and the gang as her friends at this point. I don't have anything to say about this, it's just cute banter, I'm gonna claim that it shows that they already have a more relaxed, friendly dynamic:

Eddie and I exchanged glances. So much for avoiding her indiscretions. “Improving how exactly?” I asked. “In combat, in following the dress code, or in keeping her hands to herself?” “Or in turning off caps-lock?” added Eddie. “You noticed that too?” I asked. “Hard not to,” he said.

Eddie just happens to be hanging around her dorm at the time her date comes to pick her up for reasons, very good ones I'm sure (“And I was here to, um…”). He seems to spend a signicant amount of time discussing Sydney's love life with the gang.

Eddie is now more open and vulnerable with Sydney, talking to her about his feelings for Jill and how hard it is to touch her during sparring lessons, and about how unconfortable he is with Angeline's unwanted advences. He sees her as an ally in that area:

“There’s a Halloween Dance?” Eddie dragged himself from his misery to give me a surprised look. “How do you not know? There are signs everywhere.” I stirred around my steamed vegetables. “They must not be anywhere I’ve been.” Eddie gestured with his fork to something behind me. [...] “How can you memorize entire books but miss something like that?” asked Angeline. “Because Sydney’s brain only records ‘useful’ information,” Eddie said with a smile. I didn’t deny it. “Don’t you think Eddie should go?” pushed Angeline. “He needs to watch out for Jill. And if he goes, we might as well go together.” Eddie shot me a desperate look, and I tried to find him a way out of this.

They already know each other better at this point, and what to expect. Also, this little passage just screams SIBLINGS to me:

“You’re going to this one, aren’t you?” asked Eddie. “With Brody?” “Brayden. And I don’t know. We haven’t even had our second date. I don’t want things to move too fast.” “Right,” Eddie said. “Because there’s no bigger sign of commitment than a Halloween dance.” I was about to get him back by suggesting maybe he and Angeline should go together after all when Jill and Micah joined us.

It really pains Sydney to see Eddie hurting, and she feels like his insistance in staying away from Jill and encouraging her relationship with Micah is masochistic. And she talks him up to Jill when she shows interest.

In the end, Eddie goes along with the plan to keep Sydney out of the loop when they raid the Warrior's compound. He has a whisper fight with Adrian where I assume he convinced him to let it go, and he's the one to put a tracking device in Sydney's purse. Sydney considered the whole thing a pretty big betrayal of all of them, her vampire friends and Alchemists alike.

When the raid goes down, Eddie can't get to Sydney, and she motions at him to go without her. According to Adrian, when Eddie came out without Sydney he was "babbling" about how she'd gone out some random door. He was obviously pretty worried about her:

“Sydney!” he exclaimed. He immediately released Angeline’s hand and hurried over to me, astonishing me with a hug. “Thank God you’re okay. I hated having to leave you there. That wasn’t part of the plan. I was supposed to have gotten you out with Sonya.” “Yeah, well, maybe next time, someone can fill me in on the plan,” I said pointedly. Eddie grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. We just…” “I know, I know. Didn’t think I’d go along with it, were afraid something would go wrong, etc., etc.” “I’m sorry.” I didn’t entirely forgive him, but I was too tired to push the matter much further. “Just tell me this,” I said, lowering my voice. “Were you just holding hands with Angeline?” He blushed, which seemed ludicrous after the fierceness I’d seen him pull off back at the compound.

Sydney still didn't fully forgive any of the Palm Springs gang for this, but it also drove a rift between her and the Alchemists, which helped do away with the conflict she felt about liking them.

On to The Indigo Spell, Eddie's the only person Sydney trusts with her car which is a high honor.

I took my car keys out of my bag and reluctantly handed them over to Eddie. He was the only one I trusted to drive my car, and I always let him borrow it when I left town, in case he needed to run errands for our group. “Here you go. I better get it back in one piece. Do not let Angeline near the driver’s seat.” He grinned. “Do I look suicidal? I probably won’t even use it. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport later?”

When Marcus gives sydney a black eye, she feels like Eddie might want to hunt down her assailant, which I feel goes a bit beyond the immediate protection he'd give just anyone who needed it. When Sydney starts going on super secret meetings with rebel alchemists she decides the Eddie is the man to call for protection:

I’d been a little hesitant to let Eddie in on Marcus. Eddie certainly wasn’t going to turn Marcus or me in to the Alchemists for sideline plotting. That being said, I also didn’t want Eddie to think the Alchemists were involved in nefarious schemes against the Moroi. That might very well be something Eddie would relay back to his own people, which could in turn cause all sorts of diplomatic problems. Even this hint of the Alchemists potentially being in contact with the Warriors was dangerous. I decided that having Eddie as protection was worth the risk of him hearing something he shouldn’t. He was my friend, and I trusted him.

When Eddie hears that there might be a connection between the Alchemists and the Warriors, and that the later might be after Jill, he trusts Sydney to find out what's going on and help him keep Jill safe, which is pretty much the most important thing in the world to him:

“It’s all circumstantial,” argued the scientist in me. “Sydney,” said Eddie. I turned to him and saw something in his eyes I’d never expected to see: pleading. He didn’t care about Alchemist conspiracies or Marcus’s Merry Men. What he cared about was Jill, and he’d heard something that made him think she was in danger. That was unacceptable in his world. He would do anything in his power to keep her safe, but even he knew stealing information from the Alchemists was out of his league. It was pretty much out of mine too, but he didn’t know that. He believed in me, and he was silently begging me to help.

So they both really trust each other at this point. It's Eddie's pleading and her own worry for Jill that convince Sydney to take the pretty big risk of stealing Alchemist files.

I had to stop myself from adding a bunch of instances of Eddie blushing that aren'tactually that relevant to their relationship, so I have to agree with Sydney that blushing Eddie is adorable:

Eddie still looked way too serious for this discussion. “Maybe Eddie would volunteer,” I suggested. “I bet guardian posture would be great on the catwalk.” He blushed, which even I had to admit was adorable.

Eddie talks pretty openly to Sydney about his relationship with Angeline throuhgout the book, and then when that implodes spectacularly he agrees to talk to Sydney about it. They meet at a cafe and when the scene starts Sydney claims they had been there for almost an hour. Eddie Castile spent AN HOUR talking about his feelings with Sydney Sage, I just love that. The serious, dedicated Guardian allowing himself to be vulnerable and to be conforted. Then we get this beautiful, beautiful little exchange:

“Thanks for the moral support,” Eddie told me. “Sometimes it feels like you really are a sister—” That was when my car exploded. Sort of.

Interrupted by an exploding car because I can't have nice things. During that conversation Sydney was feeling pretty terrible herself, and she can't talk about her fight with Adrian. But that makes her wish that at least Eddie could be happy even more.

At this point I consider them to absolutely be ACTUAL TWINS, but I'm gonna have to leave the second half of the series, where Sydney and Eddie prove their love for each other in the most painful way possible, for a part 2.

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (chapter 1)

Chapter 1

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,426

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing... 

              Catalina gazed out of the window as the city flew by. Full Moon, by the Black Ghosts was playing on the radio. She wondered what her apartment was going to look like. She should have listened to her mom when she told Catalina to take a trip out here to set it up before school started, but she never found the time. She had been too busy saying her goodbyes to friends who didn’t care about her leaving.

               The taxi finally entered the small town of St. Briggs. The sky was dark and bleak; when Catalina pictured California, she didn’t imagine this. She was hoping to see a different environment, but it kind of looked just like Michigan. It would still be a change though. Hopefully a good change. This was one of the most highly recommended performing arts schools in the country and Catalina was looking forward to a fresh new chapter of her life.

               She was dropped off at her apartment building and the taxi driver asked if she wanted him to help her carry her bags up the stairs. She said no and hurried to pay him. Catalina somehow managed to drag her bags up the stairs on her own, breaking out in a sweat and making her twenty-year-old back hurt. The apartment was lightly furnished already, the bare furniture from the last student still there. So Catalina started unpacking her clothes, toiletries, and bedding. Once everything was unpacked, she looked around at her new living space. It was small, only three rooms: the bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a kitchen connected to an empty living room. She’d have to get a couch, and maybe a TV. Or she could just save her money. Yeah, that sounded better. She would usually just watch Netflix on her laptop anyway.

               Speaking of her laptop, she pulled it out of her backpack and flopped onto her bare mattress, opening it up. Classes started in a week and she needed to review her schedule and figure out what materials she needed. Her dance class stared back at her from her schedule on the computer screen. She was most excited for that one.

               Catalina sent the schedule to her phone and then closed her laptop. She decided now was a good time to explore the campus, if only to check out the dance studio.

                 It was chilly here, the wind coming off the water brisk and wet. Her hair frizzed up and she mourned the fact that she only packed light clothes, expecting the typical California weather. She should have realized that Northern California would be pretty much the same as where she lived before in Michigan.

               Despite the gloomy weather, the campus was beautiful. It was bustling with students and their families, taking tours and lots of pictures in front of the old buildings. She glanced at the wrinkled campus map in her hands, which she had printed out back at home. The dance studio was closer to the back of the campus, so she trekked through all the freshman and found herself in an emptier part of campus. The buildings here were very old. Big willow trees grew between the buildings, their leafy curtains giving those spots a sense of privacy on the lawn. The dance studio was in a building that looked like it was a refurbished, converted old house. Catalina walked up to the porch and tried the door. It was unlocked.

               Inside the house, it was a bit more modern. There was a tiny lobby and then a hall where there were bathrooms. Then past that was the studio. The door was closed. Catalina reached for the doorknob but paused when she heard music coming from inside. The music stopped, then started again from a previous spot. It continued like this for several minutes, Catalina standing there listening to the same part of the song over and over. Finally, she decided to put whoever was inside out of their misery and she opened the door.

               The guy inside stumbled on the move he was practicing, startling and spinning around towards the door. His chest was heaving and he was sweating, staring at Catalina with wide eyes.

               “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. The guy seemed to snap out of it and he went over to his phone, which was hooked up the speakers, to pause the song.

               “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to come in here. Usually it’s pretty quiet in the dance hall when there aren’t classes.”

               “Well, I wouldn’t count on that today,” said Catalina. “There’s a million freshman and their entire families out there. It’s only a matter of time before they find you.”

               He giggled and said, “I forgot it was orientation day. My name is Jimin, by the way.”

               “I’m Catalina. This is a really pretty campus.”

               “Yeah, I guess,” said Jimin. He went over to his dance bag and pulled a towel out, wiping his face.

               “I guess?” asked Catalina.

               “I mean, I grew up here. Everything in this town is old,” he said.

               “Oh,” Catalina then realized that she had interrupted him in his practice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I know how it is when you’re in the zone. I’ll get going-“

               “No, it’s okay! Honestly, I was about to pass out or something if I kept going,” said Jimin. “I just couldn’t get this one move, and it was driving me crazy…”

               “What was the move?” asked Catalina, stepping further into the studio. “Can you teach me?”

               “I mean… I don’t know if you can…”

               “Try me,” said Catalina. Jimin led her to the center of the floor, facing the mirror. He walked her through a complicated move, which led into a jump turn. He broke it down and Catalina followed, nailing it on the second try. Jimin then did it at full speed, perfectly.

               He turned to her with wide eyes.

               “That was the first time I did it right!” he cheered. Catalina clapped along with him.

               “Sometimes all it takes is breaking it down again,” said Catalina. Jimin narrowed his eyes.

               “So, you tricked me?” he asked in a playful tone.

               “Into getting the move right, sure,” Catalina grinned.

               “Well, thank you. You’re pretty good,” he said.

               “I’m majoring in dance, so I should hope so,” said Catalina. “I’ve only been doing it since I was four.”

               “You’re majoring in dance? Me too!” he said. “I’ve never seen you here though. Are you a freshman?”

               “Yeah, this is my first year here,” said Catalina. “I heard the dance program is really good.”

               “It is. It has a good variety too. I’m taking a hip hop class this semester. You should take it with me, if you have room in your schedule.”

               “I’ve been dancing ballet all my life, I don’t think I’d be very good at hip hop…” Catalina scratched the back of her head. Jimin shook his head.

               “No, that’s a myth! Teachers only say that about ballerinas who don’t care about learning other things. I’ve also been doing ballet my whole life but I’m learning a lot of new things here, and I really love it,” said Jimin.

               Catalina laughed and said, “I guess you’re right. I should…broaden my horizons, as my mother would say.”

                 Catalina left the studio that day with a new number in her phone and a more hopeful outlook on her upcoming journey through college.

                 The next week passed in a haze as Catalina readied herself for classes and thought about furnishing her apartment some more. She never did furnish it, but at least she made the bed and filled the fridge. She also got into the hip hop class with Jimin, which she was excited about. She was ready.

               Finally, the first day of classes came and Catalina woke up bright and early. She got dressed; she knew these first few days were going to be the only days she would bother with anything other than pajamas, so she actually made an effort to look cute. Her first class was French, which, honestly, was going to be torture. She needed to learn French to reach her ultimate goal, so it was a necessary evil. It sounded pretty, so maybe it wasn’t the worst language to learn.

               When she got to her French classroom, it was already pretty full. She found a few vacant seats in the back of the room, which she took. There was still one behind her, so she wasn’t actually all the way in the back. That was something her academic advisor had told her – don’t sit in the back. It was supposed to be a subconscious thing where the closer you sit to the front, the better you do in the class. Catalina didn’t know if that was actually true, but the front seats were all taken and she was used to sitting in the back, so here she was. Second to last row. It was a start.

               Catalina pulled out her notebook, a pen, and her phone. She had a text from her mom.

 Mom: Are you settled down okay at the apartment? How is campus? Did you make it to class okay this morning?

Cat: The apartment is good. Campus is pretty. I’m in class right now. Everything is going great. I even made a friend.

Mom: a friend?

Cat: yeah, he’s in the dance program too. We’re taking a hip hop class together.

Mom: This is great news! Is he cute?

               Just then, the professor walked in and introduced herself. Catalina let out the breath she was holding, glad she didn’t have to answer that. That was one of many reasons she was so excited to move across the country. Ever since she came out as bisexual, her mother had been trying her hardest to get Catalina a boyfriend. Sure, Jimin was plenty cute, but that’s not what Catalina was here for. She’d just really rather not talk about her love life, or lack thereof, with her mother.

               The professor mostly just went over introductions and the syllabus, which she passed out copies of to the class. Then she took attendance. A few names in and the door opened. A boy walked in, his eyes wide as he scanned the room for empty seats. He spotted the one behind Catalina and sped towards it. The professor eyed him.

               “I guess you came just in time, since I just started attendance. I do not take absences lightly in this class young man,” she said.

               “Sorry,” he mumbled. The professor grumbled and handed another syllabus to the person in the front row before continuing with roll call. When Catalina handed the packet back to him, she caught a glimpse of the new guy. He looked only half awake, his hair a mess, bags under his eyes and rumpled sweats. He didn’t have a backpack, only a notebook. Catalina winced in sympathy. He was going to have a hard time in this class. He reminded Catalina of herself in high school. She was a new woman now though. Things were going to be different in college.

               “Catalina Cruz” was called and she raised her hand in acknowledgement. The guy behind her answered to “Jeon Jungkook”. After class, Catalina turned around in her seat and smiled at Jungkook, who still looked frazzled.

               “First impressions are important,” she said.

               “Ugh, I know,” he moaned, sliding down in his seat. “I slept in…”

               “Yeah, she probably hates you,” said Catalina. “You’re doomed.”

               Jungkook covered his face. “Don’t say that!”

               Catalina laughed and said, “Dude, I’m kidding. You’ll be fine.”

               Jungkook let his hands fall. “I just think it’s stupid that I need a language class for my major.”

               “Everyone needs a language class. What are you majoring in?” asked Catalina.

               “Film. What about you?” he asked.

               “Dance,” she said. The two of them got up and made their way out of the classroom. “I came on a scholarship too, so I can’t really afford to fail any classes.”

               “Yeah, no scholarship for me, but my parents will have my head if I fail anything,” said Jungkook. “They’re paying out of pocket for me and my brother.”

               Catalina giggled. The two of them walked over to an empty patch of grass under a tree, where they sat. “Do you live on campus?” she asked.

               “Nah, my parent’s house is right around the block, I’m just gonna live with them until I graduate,” said Jungkook.

               Catalina hummed and nodded. “You’re lucky. I have an apartment that’s going to drain me. I can’t even afford furniture,” said Catalina. “Actually, I should probably try to find a job…”

               “Oh! My aunt owns a tourist shop up in the mountains and she needs weekend employees for tourist season,” said Jungkook.

               “Tourist season? Summer is almost over,” said Catalina.

               “There’s a big ski resort up there. It gets pretty busy once the snow comes,” said Jungkook. “You should take the job with me! It’ll be so fun, we can explore the mountains.”

               “Ehh, I don’t know how much mountain climbing I’ll be doing, but the job is kind of perfect,” said Catalina. “How far away is it? I don’t have a car.”

               “I mean, I have a car, but there’s also a hiking trail that gets you there, which I’ll probably be doing, cause’ it’s more fun,” he said. “It’s not that far, like, a few miles?”

               “A few miles? That’s far! That’s a long walk!” said Catalina.

               “Oh, come on! I backpacked for five days once, that’s about fifty miles. And I’ve heard stories about people who backpack for weeks,” said Jungkook.

               “Okay well, you may be super fit and sporty, but I’m not-“

               “What were you majoring in again? Dance?”

               Catalina shoved him. He fell over, laughing hard. Catalina scrunched her nose to contain her laughter. “Oh shut up! Okay, I get it. Hiking might be fun, but not every time,” she said.

               “No, I’ll totally drive us to work every now and then,” he said. “I’ll call my aunt tonight about the job. Here, give me your number so I can tell you what she says.”

               Catalina typed her number into Jungkook’s phone and then handed it back.

               “Anyway, I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late for another class,” said Jungkook. “I’ll text you.”

               He got up and walked away, waving. Catalina waved back. Two new friends. And they were both so much nicer and more genuine than her friends back in Michigan.

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Bruce would never admit it. No, of course not. Bruce was a literal father of eight, Catwomans fiance and motherfucking Batman himself. Right then, standing in the ruins of what was once “The City of Love”? He could not handle the situation. There should have been more people coming to Paris’ rescue, more heroes offering their support and overall more attention on everything that was happening, more attention on what has been going on for years. The irritation seeped into the batfamily like some kind of mist. Everyone felt it, but each person was dealing with it in their very own, individual way. 

For example there currently was a frustrated Cassandra Cain asking Tim for directions, while using a crowbar to open a door that has been sealed shut by the rubble of one of the broken buildings. She was angry, or at least that’s what she has been taught this emotion was called. The decade she has spent on the streets of Gotham have made her capable of handling all kinds of tools and left her with every necessary skill there was, if you needed to open a door or look for something any other person would not have paid any attention to. The young adult wasn’t keen on following her main mission. The villain could be caught later, but those people were dying right then and there. Tim has told them about the Miraculous Cure. Yes, all those people would come back to life if only their heroine would finally manage to catch that damn akuma. 

The memories would stay though. The city would consist of traumatised citizens and be vulnerable to further attacks or, in the worst case, further manipulation. Dick could not stop thinking about what could happen afterwards. What are they going to do once the villain has been eliminated and the miraculous cure has been cast? How would the citizens of Paris react when some sociopath would raise their voice and demand power and set up rules and just overall exploit the damaged and desperate minds of the victims? 

Would this emotional trauma lead to new extremists? 

Would they have to fight a new Hitler or have to assassinate the next Stalin? Speaking of assassination: Damian was raging. His already bad temper was a perfect starting point, which means that now that he had mixed his constant anger with the situational rage... he felt alive. 

He remembered that that was what superboy has felt like the first time he realised he could fly. Kon-Els’ emotions were always very...expressive. He loved to indulge every bit of adrenaline and excitement he could reach. Damian was glad to have him as his soulmate, though. The other boys positivity and extroverted way of acting was complementary to Damians introverted defensivness. Kon-Els’ habit of sharing his pleasent emotions and sensations through their soulmate-bond has opened the Wayne heirs eyes in several ways.

Now the youngest batfamily-members’ adrenaline and rage-filled soul was holding back from sharing that powerup with his lover, though. Instead he was focusing on Paris and subconciously hoping not to remember it in it’s current form, having planned on taking his boyfriend there for their anniversary. No, instead he was looking at those pained faces and ruins. His mind was tunneled, sure, but whatever he saw on the other end of that tube did not stand a single chance. The boy was rummaging through the streets, following each and every one of Red Robins and Batmans orders without giving it a second guess. Damian was reacting to everything colored red that came into his vision. Paired up with his oldest brother, who has taken to asking the citizens about what they have witnessed and if there was anyone who needed immediate help. Damian did not speak. He stared down anyone who didn’t answer them right away and “put on pause” whoever was causing trouble inside the shelters. He was following the “no killing policy”. (Which didn’t mean he held back.) A broken bone was a broken bone, no matter if it killed you or just immobilsed you for a few weeks. Dick did not approve of Damians actions, but the young one was careful not to leave a trace of his doings and knew for sure that there wouldn’t be anyone who would dare to tattle on him, not if they valued their oh so precious teeth.

Each and any trace that could lead them to the villains identity has been collected. Barbara paid special attention to accuracy and professionalism, no matter how difficult it was. She didn’t allow herself to loose focus, didn’t turn away from the mission. She wanted to, oh how much she wanted to just stop looking at those weird dusty footprints and butterfly themed anythings and pull the people in misery out of their ashes. Orakle couldn’t dare do it, though. Anyone else has already stopped paying attention to the mission. If she did too, there would be no one left to find the source of evil. She kept on playing the matra her father has taught her in the back of her head: “Find the criminal, save the future victims, find the criminal, save the future victims...” 

The future was uncertain, even for Duke. His photokinetic skill let him see into the near future, aswell as a bit of the past. But that didn’t help because that day he just couldn’t see anything but death and destruction in both directions. His vision was clouded with blood and dust and he quite honestly felt blind and useless. They should’ve come sooner, they didn’t have the right to leave these people to their own devices. Especialy since they knew that their devices were malfunctioning. The boys heart was full of regret. If only he could have seen this coming, if only he could have showed the akumatised victim a way out! It was his job as “The Signal” after all, he didn’t wear this annoyingly bright yellow suit for no reason!

Tim was surprisingly calm. He had his coffeemashine working, Alfred keeping him comany in the batcave and several constant sources of information keeping him entertained. He hated to admit it, but for once he felt fulfilled. His brain was working at just the right pace, he was giving out orders and information without having to secondguess himself and could allow himself to just let the mission take it’s course. He saw the dots moving around on the screen, saw the battlefield growing and changing and knew when to usher his family away from, or even towards danger. Yes, the pressure was incredibly high, but oh god was it exhilarating. 

Which didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed when his orders were being ignored. Cass not listening to him he has already been counting on, she was saving the people and that was all he needed her to do. Stephanies string of fate, which was connected to Tims heart, was safe and sound and she kept him updated about her actions, so he was fine with keeping her out of the equation, for now. Jason though? 

“Hood! What the fuck is up with you?”, Tim signaled his older brother, who was currently walking at the pace of an elderly zombie and, for whatever reason, constantly turning in the direction of the Saine, completly disregarding the route Tim has assigned him on. “I totally get your need for caffeine now, Red.”, Jason laughed in return, “doesn’t mean I support it though.” Having said that he went back to silently brooding in the direction that was making him even more tired than he already was. 

Jason was exhausted, but he wasn’t dumb. He’d guessed that his soulmate had to be somewhere in the area and he was certain that the strenghtening bond was due to their proximity. The further he walked the more he felt them. Or in other words, felt his body succumb to their weakness. Whoever they were, Jason knew they were on the verge of dying. A soulmates bond can only do so much. Sure, if he ate and slept for two, his bonded would get their share, but it still wasn’t enough. Judging by the way he was currently about to collapse, they haven’t been taking care of themselves for a while now. Jason had to do something. He needed to find them and get them to someplace where they could recover, at least enough for Jason to be able to get back to work again. 

Blinking, Red Hood realised where he was. Where there should have been water, just a few dozen meters in front of him, were...

“Red, am I hallucinating or is that river full of giant ladybugs?”

“Those are boats. Their color indicates them to be Lucky Charms, a creation of Ladybugs superpower. Batman and the others have found several other items all over the city and collected the ones they could. Apparently Ladybug has to throw them in the air in order to cast the cure. Are you capable of investigating these ones? I think they could be shelters but my drones haven’t arrived yet so we have no heatvision to investigate from abov-”

“I’m on it.”, Jason interrupted him, having gotten a grasp of the situation and, due to his tiredness, not being capable of listening for such amounts of information without succumbing to the monotone lullaby of another human beings voice.

Tim watched in wonder, as the big, scary, red hooded man stopped midtrack, made a 90° turn and climbed into a destroyed cafe. He came out of it, several minutes later, armed with what seemed like two cups of coffee, a bag full of food held between his teeth and unconcious parisians on each one of his shoulders. Jason carefully squatted, letting them down at the door of the nearby akuma-shelter and sitting crosslegged next to them. After carefully dropping his bag of baked goods in his lap and downing the probably burning hot coffee from his left hand in one go, he finally turned his com back on and just sat there, eating. 

A few moments had passed before Tim mustered up the courage to speak to him. He’s been fighting evil in the streets of the most crime-ridden city their planet had to offer for years now, but never in his whole career has he seen something as terrifying as that man he considered a brother, who he knew had commited murder, died and come back to life, just sit and eat while everything around him consisted of ruins, death and destruction.

“Tho-those civilans. Did you-?”

“I knew you would ask that!”, a full mouth replied, “Of fucking course not. They were knocked out by their bloody ceiling collapsing onto their damn heads. They’re still breathing and I’m sure there’s like, first aid in those shelters. I just gotta-”, he took another bite, taking his time, again swallowing his second cup of coffee in one go and letting out an exhausted but slightly more energized breath, “I just gotta recharge, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Are you okay? Why so weak all of a sudden?”

“Who are ya calling weak, replacement?”

“I meant what I said, now spill.”

An uncharacteristical sigh escaped Jasons lips. He didn’t like speaking of his soulmate. It made him feel weak, especialy due to their bond consisting of literal suffering. Given the current situation, though, he decided to share.

“Did you know I have a soulmate?”

Tims surprise was evident but he did not dare speak up, in fear of disrupting his brothers confession. 

“We’re kind of a fucked up pair, to be honest. Our bond isn’t as cute as yours and Spoilers. It’s like...very physical. Whenever she gets hurt I get the same bruise.”

Jason now knew she was female. He felt her much more intensely, recognized those physical attributes he was sensing. If felt weird and he would have to get used to it. (Only if the both of them were going to survive the next few hours, of course.) 

He took another bite of the third pastry he was currently eating, before continuing: “Whenever one of us has hurt ourselves when we were little, the other did something similar in some sort of “payback”. It was dumb. Silly realy...”

Tim was only half listening. As much as he wanted to know every tiny detail of this secretive mans confessions, he still had a job to do. A shelter not far from Dukes whereabouts has been covered by more debris and was therefore in danger of collapsing on itself. He gave out orders to everyone but Jason. Red Robin had a guess considering what he was about to be told and couldn’t risk ignoring that possibly incredibly important piece of information.

Jason was finishing his seventh pastry, while explaining to Tim how he recognized Paris through his soulmate and pointed out how odd it was, that she knew what every angle looked like from above and how she has never set foot inside an akuma-shelter. 

Saying it out loud made it painfully obvious. Especially when he paired the information with the fact that his wounds seemed to heal so quickly and the exhaustion the bonded pair was feeling.

Ladybugs powers include healing.

Ladybug was fighting the most difficult battle this war has ever offered.

Ladybug was Jasons soulmate and he knew where he could find her.

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

Hello!!!

I hope you are having a great day, night, morning...probably night. Nighttime is tumblrtime after all. 

Thank you SO MUCH for all your feedback, it is now my fuel, my water, my blood, I love y’all.

Also, English is my third language so please, if you find any mistakes or notice a grammatical sin: please tell me! I am still learning and would love to correct my mistakes.

Part 4 is in the making and either it will be very long or I’ll make a part 5. No promises though!

P.S.: Proper Jasonette is finally happening next chapter, I’m excited ^^

I never would have thought I’d get to say that but I now have a taglist! If you want to be added just tell me in whichever way: I will find you and I will tag you *insert evil laughter*

Tag List \o/:

@maribat-is-lifeblood @lokilex @amayakans 

Thanks for reading ^^

[abeyances]

He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor.

Lessons.

There were always lessons, always things to impart upon Micah David Buchanan. Metaphors, restrictions, always lessons far too tedious for a young mind to care to absorb -- lessons he would learn the hard way when adolescence gave way beneath his feet.

Brought up in the rolling hills of Kentucky, Buchanan Bourbon and the Buchanan men were brought up just so in gentle society. It was a craft — a legacy — that they had perfected. It starts clear. Fiery, bitter. For every year bourbon matures in the barrel, it goes through winter and summer where the wood expands and contracts, pushing and pulling the spirit in and out. Left too long, bitterness imparts instead of giving way to a smooth warmth and charm that they were known for. There was a romantic quality to it all, or so he had been told. There were winters and summers in life -- highs and lows, but they were necessary evils. He was warned, but Micah underestimated how deeply he would feel it all.

A charming spitfire from the beginning, he had a relatively happy childhood. A day was only counted as a success when band-aids were earned as honor badges from scraped knees and big adventures. He was the kind to climb high into trees, even if he didn’t have the foresight on how to get down. A belief and an attempt to fly had not ended in his favor, but it was a lesson he had learned on his own. The world was his for the taking, but only tangible when he reached out to welcome it on his own accord.

Micah grew up with a strong blueprint to follow, an image to model himself after. It was a tedious yet privileged upbringing. He attended the piano lessons, the dance lessons, the tours of the distilleries. He let himself be molded, though the pieces never fit quite right. He took the required pieces and did his best to fit them into a new ‘whole’ - a mosaic of those that came before him. A deep laugh, a mischievous twinkle of the eyes, a fondness for fast cars, snark about a horse’s pretentious name but still betting upon it. Stubbornness, softness, and sincerity all bloomed as he matured. There was a genuineness, a warmth, that he prided himself on. There was an ease of connecting, and that became the very thing he would seek indefinitely.

He pushed and pulled against the expectations set for him and where to give in and when to let go. He would show up dutifully on the arm at society events, only to sneak away when the eyes of the older crowd flickered away. Micah would slip out of view, away from the crowds, for either a quiet moment to breathe or to slink away into something more debaucherous. It was a fine line he walked and one he seemed to balance. He sought out thrill more than the act of trouble. As soon as he got his permit, Micah developed a habit of driving a bit too fast in the family's cars he "borrowed."

Few things trumped a good race. Pin-pricked stars and bleeding red taillights illuminated clandestine affairs under an inky sky.  Anticipation and adrenaline hovered in the air with the purr and simultaneous roar of engines as they sat side by side. It was over as quick as it began yet he never felt more alive as he shifted towards victory. He could take chemicals to get his heart to beat as fast, though this was a high he seldom wanted to come down from. Tangled limbs and experimentation in the too-small backseat was purely a nice chaser. The popped cherry on top of it all.

As Micah entered his college years, racing continued as a hobby, ultimately landing at Brown University in Rhode Island. He flourished away from the expectations that had been settled upon his shoulders as he continued creating and discovering himself. He was uncorked with all the pomp and excitement of champagne, yet the biggest discovery was yet to come. The signs had all been there in the rearview mirror, but Micah took himself by surprise when he caught himself falling for someone. A boy.

Micah had experimented in the past but had chalked it up to curiosity and the heat of the moment after a race. It had been a consolation prize with the intent of a wild, fond memory to tuck away with the last summer before heading off to college. However, reality and intentions never quite seemed to coincide. The curiosity had unearthed itself from the shallow grave Micah had buried it in, setting its sights on a new entity.

Rahim Reyes De Leon.

He couldn’t place where it had started, but neither could forget exactly where ( and how ) it had ended. They entered each other’s orbits in a few shared classes, deepening over midnight drives and mixtapes. There was a connection there that Micah let morph from friendship into something deeper. He had only realized how much he had fallen until he was careening headfirst into impact. A heart had been gifted and Micah tried to hold it and its owner in soft hands, but he could not offer the same courtesy. Guilt bloomed each time he asked for more patience to out himself, only delaying the inevitable. It ended in many mutual tears — a world of hurt he never intended to inflict. Rahim had been nothing but upfront about his intentions. Patience and pleading clouded Micah as he felt the other deserved far more than discretion.

The parting stung but devolved into tight, polite smiles as they both worked towards their degrees. Time offered a bittersweet balm of sentimentality and a nostalgic ache, settling deeper into the recesses Micah had intended for it to lurk prior. He wasn’t sure if pangs of guilt subsided, or if he had learned to ignore it. The next few years were uneventful, blurring into unsteady ease of monotony.

So this is it. Every day. Forever.

It all got to be a bit too claustrophobic, but Micah graduated with honors and a corner office within the family business. He held an appreciation for well-tailored suits, but the opportunity came to trade cufflinks for racing gloves as he entered it professionally. It was a scorched bridge between Micah and his family, but not incinerated completely. Disdain and disagreements were settled behind closed doors - tabled for another discussion.

Micah rose quickly through the circuit and gained a reputation as more eyes looked upon his success. A name had been bestowed upon him at birth, but this was a name he was making for himself. His career continued to grow over the years as he chased the adrenaline and accomplishments that came with each lap around the track, and each victory he managed to claim. The sweetest victory of all was winning the heart of another racer.

When you touch someone so often you sometimes forget where you end and they begin, was that love? Where did one body begin, and one end? Curled together, tracing jawbones. Low whispers speaking hidden dimples into existence. Micah preferred the left one. He learned to take each endearing eyeroll in stride, finding himself seeking them out in quiet company. Micah let himself fall, knowing fingers laced together with his own kept him tethered. Rather than the self-imposed confines of his own mind, Micah learned that it is supposed to make you feel free. It was as natural as his foot upon a pedal, as expansive and liberating as empty roads stretching into the horizon. It took him two years to say it — love. Love was never supposed to limit you or in any way feel contractual or constrictive.

— - — - — ///   tw: death, car crash  ///

The racers kept it private. They learned to dance around the questions in interviews, exchanging knowing glances when one was heralded as a ‘most eligible bachelor’. It was an intimacy Micah longed to bask in for eternity, but it came to an abrupt halt. It was a race like any other until a clipped corner sent things spiraling. Micah only had an instant to try to veer from the calamity, but the realization set in before he could react. Micah froze at the sound of metal twisting in on itself, contorting against its frame and consuming its inhabitant. He watched it spin, lifting off the ground and tumbling into the barricades. The carnage made quick work of claiming his own car as it flipped. Darkness and quiet seemed far kinder than the screaming ( his own? ) and the bright warmth of a burgeoning fire as he allowed himself to slip away.

— - ( hospital ///. )

The comfort of the dark was stripped away as Micah convulsed back into existence a few days later in a too bright, too loud hospital room. He flinched against it all - against the machines holding him here against his will, against the various tubes and wires coming in and out of him, against the concerned faces rushing into view. He closed his eyes once more in an attempt to shut it all out, slipping back into the ether.

— - — - — .

Micah resurfaced a few days later knowing the tragedy before it was even spoken. He had missed the funeral.

He eventually traded a hospital bed for the one the couple had once shared. It was a spot Micah did not want to leave, and those days still fall upon him from time to time. Time has not settled this wound, though Micah is not sure where to attempt to staunch the bleeding. In an attempt to put some distance between the present and the past, Micah pulled himself out of that bed and packed himself into a car in an attempt to do what was only natural — drive.

The Buchanans extended the invitation to welcome Micah back into the flock, but he was not entirely inclined to go. He drove through the night and pulled over when a beach came into view. As the dark dissolved into bruised purples and soft pinks over the waves, he pleaded with the dawn to bring a moment of lucidity & respite from his misery. The sun peaked above the horizon with solemn reverence as Micah let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Short sobs followed in a quick ricochet as he let himself release.

Micah has since found himself in Islebury, Rhode Island -- not too far from where he attended Brown. He holds a strong resolve to claw himself out of this dark spot, though at times does not know which way is up. Clarity and room to breathe have become his newest companions as he attempts to start over. The only way out is through, and Micah is testing his footing one step at a time. With some charm and forced perseverance, the path thus far has led to Deja Vu Night Club. It was a natural fit with his family’s background and his inclination to jump in wherever he might be needed. It’s a pleasant distraction from his own turmoil as he tries to get to know the town’s inhabitants.

Little does he know there just might be some shared history, after all.

[amerasdreams]

Jerry’s lost last letter from Vietnam

Dear Mom and Dad,

and Jana and Jason,

I need to tell you about what happened here in Vietnam. In my other letters, I glossed over details because, Dad, you know war and so I don’t have to tell you what it’s like, and Mom, I didn’t want to worry you. Jana and Jason, I hope you never have to know what war is like.

But I can’t deny the truth of what happened over here, the pain and the glory of it.

You hear stories about Vietnam before you leave. A lot of people give into evil. You have to kill to survive, that’s one thing. But the things people let themselves do…become no better than the enemy they’re fighting. They let the war cloud their minds, muddy their morals. I was self-righteous about this at first. I would never fall.

Oh how wrong I was.

I hesitate to tell you. Especially you, Jason, who looked up to me so much. I wish you could keep this heroic image of me, but that would be selfish.

The truth is, I gave into evil. I was proud, to start with. It blinded me to the fact that deep down I’m no different than anyone else and it’s only by the saving grace of Jesus Christ that I have anything salvageable inside me.

It’s not like I did it myself; I just let it happen. But that doesn’t justify it. Fear is no excuse either. It can’t be, here. Especially when you’re an officer; you’re responsible for the men under you.

One reason I’m hesitant to tell about this is that it’s top secret. And it involves someone else and her safety. But with the uncertainty over here—when the war will end, overall or just for me—it’s worth the risk so you can help her in case I’m….not around anymore.

We trudged through the mud, sheets of rain pouring down, soaking us. The gray sky pierced by green knives of grass, slashing our arms as we searched for the enemy. We hadn’t had any action for days and some of my men were itching for a fight, just to break up the gray sloshing mud with bright flowers of fire.

This kid, Jenkins, had glasses and that made it so he could see even less than the rest of us in the rain. Barely 18, smaller than most, the guys all teased him but he took it well and so they were good-natured about it. He was kinda like our mascot. We thought he had a charmed life; he once stepped on a mine and it didn’t go off, some of the men thought he was lucky and even that we were an invincible unit.

We were checking out a weapons cache when some VC ambushed us. Shattered Benny’s leg, that’s my sarge. Good man. I dragged him to safety and fired back—we were surrounded on this little island in the swamp, just a raised bit of land, not much cover, so we were sitting ducks. I had to get my men out of there. I ordered some men to make a feint to the left, others to cover our rear as we retreated into the swamp. But they caught us as we came down, popped up right out of the gray water and shot some point-blank. I fought hand-to-hand with one—he stabbed me in the thigh and blood swirled into the water like red ink. Somehow we fought them off but by that time they’d killed five of us and Jenkins was lying face down, so much blood in the water around him we knew he was gone.

A chopper flew us back to base for R and R and to take care of the dead. Rally, one of my squad leaders, wanted to go right back out and find those VC—he didn’t use that term—and kill them. Something in him snapped that day. I should’ve seen it but we were all grieving. We were a tight-knit unit, even more than most, I thought, and to lose Jenkins and four other good men…it hit us hard. But we forged on. I had to get a new platoon sergeant temporarily so I promoted Rally to the acting position.

About a month later, early August, we captured some VC. My men and I secured the village while Rally began the interrogation of the prisoners, two men and a woman, in a vacant shed. While I was occupied, the prisoners attempted to escape and Rally shot them. That was his story. I have no doubt they were trying to escape, but they were shot in the back, which wasn’t really necessary as they were bound and couldn’t have gotten far. When I returned, one man had died and Rally was beating the other man’s face in. He was incoherent and useless as an intel source. Jackson offered to “put him out of his misery”; I held him back and had the medic take care of him.

Only the woman was left to interrogate. I let Rally be the bad cop and threaten to kill her family, but I didn’t let him lay a hand on her. She taunted us, told us we were dead men like the buddies we’d lost. Rally swung a fist toward her; I shoved him out of the way and had a nice, civil talk with her. She seemed to thaw a little; I saw some of the fear in her eyes beneath the bravado, and we even shared a little about our families. She gave me a nom de guerre: Ana.

Just when I thought we were ready for a breakthrough, some of her comrades attacked and we had to fend them off. Once I got back to the shed, I found Rally had continued the interrogation by breaking one of her fingers. I tried to stop him but Jackson held me back. “She’s close to cracking,” he said. “You step in, she’ll clam up again. He’s already got some good stuff, sir. Just a little more. Otherwise this is all in vain.”

“This is not who we are. We’re Americans—this is what they do.”

“I know. I know, sir. You’ve kept us on the good path. But just this once, look away. For the ones we lost. For the ones we can save.”

I left the building, patrolled the perimeter. But no matter where I went, I could still hear Ana’s screams.

When I got back it was like a slaughterhouse. Rally was covered in blood; Ana (I must use her name—to do otherwise would dehumanize her) was unconscious. He’d broken each of her fingers and carved the names of our fallen into her chest. I tried not to look at her directly, as if that would absolve me of guilt, as if she was just a “target” and not a human being.

“We got the intel,” said Rally, beaming like he’d won a medal of honor.

I treated it like just another operation. She was just another casualty of war, an enemy at that. We’d done our job; it was a successful mission. We could be proud of ourselves.

We left her there; I’m not sure if she lived or died. I didn’t feel guilty at first; I didn’t feel anything but the need to keep my men safe. Until we stopped to rest, and she began to haunt me. Even if it was Rally who had gotten out of hand, I was responsible for my men’s actions. I’d allowed it. It was the same as if I’d carved those names into her chest. Hadn’t I wanted revenge too? How could I possibly delude myself I was any different, any better?

Still, I had to do my job, and I began to gain attention as a good leader from my CO. He told a CIA officer about me, and that officer contacted me for a special mission. Inside enemy territory.

We’d really only be glorified couriers; we were to deliver some new equipment to a northern spy. The CIA officer told me that he suspected a mole in his network; every agent he’d sent north had been killed or captured, the expensive equipment confiscated. We had a reputation of getting things done. He commended us for the intel we’d gotten from Ana; his agents had made good use of it. We’d take a different route than the others to throw the VC off track, but we should be under no illusions that this would be an easy or safe mission. He’d only take volunteers.

I took a small group of 10 men and we went north. We’d just dropped off the package when we were ambushed. Two men were shot; I covered the others so they could get away. I emptied my ammo and then fought with my knife—I’d rather be killed than captured—but they stabbed my leg and I went down. Blows rained from all directions until a rifle hit my head and I blacked out.

I came to in a cell at a VC base camp. My body ached; I could barely move. A man dragged me to the interrogation room and the fun began.

My interrogator was the man we’d thought was our agent. He’d been fooling the Americans for years, feeding them false intel, getting their agents captured. I was no different; he’d extract the info he needed then kill me.

He asked me about my mission for the CIA. I couldn’t tell him any more than he already knew. So he hit me. He asked about troop movements and supply routes; I wouldn’t tell him anything. So he hit me again. He wasn’t especially creative even though he always bragged about his abilities. I think he confused enjoyment for expertise. Plus he had a big head from fooling the Americans. He was probably a good spy, but not a very good interrogator. I called him Hack.

Still, he began to wear me down, especially if the sessions ended with him hitting me so hard I blacked out. I probably had multiple concussions, and my wounds were left untreated and infected. One of his COs sat in on an interrogation and I was apparently so incoherent and delirious he ordered a medic to take care of me.

I don’t remember much after that; it was probably days before I was fully conscious again. It was like heaven; my head was clear and I barely ached. Someone came in with food.

No, not just someone. The most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Silky hair that fell like a sheet of black water. Intense brown eyes in a perfect oval face. For a moment I thought she was an angel, especially since I felt no pain and pain had become part of my existence. She also reminded me of Ana…guilt struck my heart.

She handed me the tray of food and then left. When she came back, she aimed her gun at me and told me to follow. I was back in the interrogation room, but this time Hack was gone, replaced by another man. He spoke no English so he needed the girl, Ai, to translate. I knew basic Vietnamese but no complex words or sentences.

His interrogation was perfunctory and he rarely used physical force. It was a welcome reprieve. Plus I got to be in the same room with Ai, who looked at me with disdain as she translated.

This guy didn’t get anything out of me either, so they got some sort of specialist to have a go at me. He was good. Big, brutal, but he knew how to inflict maximum pain with minimum damage. Ai translated for him as well.

One day he had me on the floor, just screaming and sobbing with pain, like I was on fire. Ai threatened to stop translating unless he stopped hurting me so badly; he grabbed her and asked what side she was on. She said she just couldn’t stomach this; he said if she was weak she didn’t belong in the VC and began choking her.

First I noticed the absence of pain, then I noticed frantic, strangled cries. I looked up to see Ai kicking at him as he held her in the air by her throat.

I asked God to help me because I knew I couldn’t move on my own. I couldn’t redeem myself for what I’d done to Ana but I could help Ai.

I struggled to my feet and stood, shaking. Somehow I managed to say, “Stop!”

Anger crossed his face. He dropped Ai to the floor and turned on me. Gave me a good old fashioned beating till I blacked out.

When I came to, Ai was shaking me. It was dark. She told me that they would kill me since I had outlived my usefulness. She led me down the hallway and opened the door to the back, where there was a running vehicle. “Thank you. For what you did for me,” she said.

“Thank you for helping me, Ai. I wish—“

“Go! I can’t let them catch me.” She darted back inside.

Somehow I got down the road a bit before anyone saw me. I had to ditch the vehicle and run into the jungle. Survived for days, dodging patrols, eating bugs, till I ran into an American squad and they had me choppered back to base.

Everyone had thought I was dead; they had a big party for me. I recuperated and then went back to leading my platoon. Everything went back to normal. Vietnam-normal, anyway.

Until one day I saw Ai on base, delivering supplies to the soldiers. She drove out before I could catch her.

My men and I were hanging around base for a little while, so I saw her when she returned later that week. I caught up to her this time. She took me aside and told me that she was supposed to be an agent for the VC, but she was really working for the Americans. She had been with the communists when I’d been captured but she wasn’t a die-hard party member or anything. All she wanted was for the war to end and for her country to be at peace. She thought the VC would do that. But I’d changed her view of what Americans were at the same time she’d seen the brutality of the VC. She didn’t want to be complicit in that so she agreed to help us, in part to bring democracy and peace to her country, in part to make up for what she did.

I then told her my own struggle—my own complicity. Hurting a young woman like her. I expected her to leave in disgust. But she forgave me. I felt a dark burden lift from my heart. It wasn’t totally gone—it never will be. But what she did freed me, more so than when she’d let me out of the enemy camp.

Whenever she was on base, I found time to be with her. We began hanging out together. Eating at mess together. The boys began to make fun of me. I knew I should be careful; I didn’t want to blow her cover. Spending too much time with any one American without intel from him would be suspicious to her handlers. So we did things in secret. Had picnics out on this grassy hill with beautiful red flowers. I gave her presents. I felt she deserved the world.

Then I got orders to move out. We’d be deep in the jungle for weeks, perhaps months. My heart felt like it was imploding. I couldn’t be without her. I wished I could just take her and run away from the war and just live with her in peace.

But I decided to do something a little less drastic. When we were out on a picnic, I asked her—Dad, Mom, can you believe this?—to marry me.

And even more wonderful and crazy—she said yes!

Two days ago, we were married on our hill under the moonlight. She had a red flower in her hair. She was so beautiful! We sealed it with a glorious kiss and then…well, I’ll leave it at that.

We had two frantic days together, stolen kisses in the hallway, nights in a little abandoned hut covered in vines. Today I have to move out, leave her to the lonely life of a spy. How I can leave her without my heart breaking I don’t know. I’m sending this letter so you know the worst and the best of me, and so that you know to take care of her in case I don’t come back. Only the chaplain and the witness know about our marriage.  

She’s leaning over my shoulder as I write this in our little ‘cabin’, as I call it. Kissing me. Now she’s saying that she wants to say hi to you and she can’t wait to meet you. That she won’t let me leave and if I do she’ll drag me back….Oh I do love her, I can’t tell you how much, my heart’s bursting and I—

I miss you. I’ve got a long tour left but when I come home, I’ll bring a beautiful bride with me.

And, just in case,

Goodbye. (I’ll see you in heaven, anyway!)

Love,

Jerry (and Ai) Whittaker

- from Generation

[tsipasce]

Same Difference Ch.18

A/N: Shoutout to Kurono, The Lawful Evil Wingman™.

Making the long trek down the hallways, Nanami began mulling over her hypotheses about what transpired. She opened the door to find Chisa—I mean Overhaul—looking pensively and found herself glad they were on the same, confusing page.

“So, I think we should go over the chain of events.”

“Agreed.” He concurred as he pulled up the notes he made earlier and she went to the whiteboard to write.

“Ok, so at 5:30 AM we woke up like usual,” how easily the ‘like usual’ part came out after only a week together made her stomach flip, but she did her best to ignore it, clearing her throat before continuing,” we ate the same thing for dinner, and neither of us had eaten breakfast or ingested anything besides water.”

Having no idea what caused their shared quirk, they thought it best to keep track of their eating habits and refrain from taking any medication unless absolutely necessary. It resulted in a couple days of cranky Nanami as she rode out the odd headache every now and again, but it was just another rule to help ensure their results were as accurate as possible.

“At 6 AM, we began running. And I remember my phone reading 6:15 AM when I changed the song, so the reaction had to have happened around 6:20 AM.” She said, finishing the timeline on the white board. “At 15 minutes in you wouldn’t have been using the latent abilities of overhaul yet, so we were both neutral at this point.”

Considering the facts for a moment, he interjected,” I think this would work best if we tried to replicate this scene exactly to our best ability in the testing area. Kurono will spectate so we can avoid injury like last time.”

“I figured,” her voice gave away a hint of apprehension as her back was turned to him, still facing the board but writing nothing. She knew whatever it was was an accident, but the possibility of sustaining injuries like she had before was still very unappealing. She heard a chair move and then footsteps.

“As I said, it won’t happen again. This is just a reenactment, you’ll be safe.”

She turned to see him a safe distance away but could tell the look in his eyes was sincere. After a beat, she simply nodded, “Ok, let’s do this.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next day, they woke up at the same time and went out doing the same routine, except they would jog in the testing area so Kurono could take notes and supervise. When the reaction happened, he’d at least be able to slow them down and mitigate the intense injuries from before. Nanami put in her earphones, listening to the same music and making the same movements as the timer they’d made to signal events buzzed, letting them know when to begin each interaction. They jogged around the room at the same pace and the timer sounded again, signaling them to begin talking, or rather arguing.

“It wouldn’t make sense to ignore that we were pretty riled up at the time, even though neither of us activated our quirk. So, do what you do best and get on my nerves.”

“I was going to say the exact same thing.”

“You’ll have to escalate this further, your heart rates have risen, but they’re still not high enough.” Kurono remarked, checking the charts. Thankfully Nanami had been wearing a BitFit when running so they knew the goal was at least 189 BPM. As it stood, they were only at 150 with only another 4 minutes to get it up.

Thinking quickly, Kurono decided it wouldn’t be very plausible for them to work themselves up if they were aware of it. He thought it best to help, “By the way, Dr. Watanabe, did you still need me to text that guy friend of yours for you to reschedule your date? I’ll need to drive a bit so the signal hits the right cell tower, but Tanaka just sounded so excited to see you again.”

At this Nanami was a bit confused. She was supposed to reschedule her dinner date with Tanaka, but Kurono had already done that last week and both of them knew it. What’s he talking about…

“…Date?” Overhaul’s voice was low and accusatory.

“Yeah, we go on them all the time, but I’ve had to put them on hold since this whole obligatory quarantine with you.” She replied plainly.

“’All the time’.” He intoned, sounding almost disgusted at her response.

“That’s what I said... Is there a proble-- ”

“Exactly how long has this been happening?”

“A while.” She wasn’t sure why the air had shifted between them, but his temper was starting to grate her nerves, “I followed procedure and haven’t left this entire time. Why do you even care?” she asked half-jokingly.

“I do not care. It is physically impossible for me to care any less about you and who you associate with.”

“What the -- why are you being such an ass?”  She said getting closer, similar to before.

They continued to argue as Kurono calmy monitored their vitals, satisfied they were now at the appropriate BPM. Making his notes, he looked up to see them dangerously close and noticed something they hadn’t considered before. There was usually a noticeable tension between them, but today it seemed more like the air was almost electric or filled with a static of some sort. Soon, due to their proximity and Nanami’s tendency to gesture with her hands when she spoke, Kurono took a gamble. Hoping they were too entranced in their own spat to notice he quietly and quickly walked up to them stopping short to cut them both with his hair. Both of them now slowed, he moved them into the safety of the observation deck, hoping his gamble would pay off as Overhaul and Nanami looked royally pissed. He explained before unfreezing them, “You know I wouldn’t do it unless I absolutely had to. Just look closely at the spot I moved you two from.”  Unfreezing them, they tabled the argument to observe. Then an explosion happened, just like before.

They gathered around the monitor in the room and played back the recording, zooming in on the spot and fast forwarding to the exact moment the explosion happened. Seeing it in slow motion, a spiderweb of blue light fractured outwardly before the explosion happened. It looked like lightning and was just as fast, so missing it in the midst of the blast was easy. Watching it back again, they all shared a look of realization.

“It’s the air.” They said in unison.

“I’ll compile the footage. Dr. Watanabe, could you retrieve the supplies for collecting blood and sweat samples as well as the barometer? Fluid samples and air conditions need to be collected and noted as soon as possible,” Kurono reasoned.

“Agreed, be right back!” Nanami nodded, jogging out of the room.

Kurono turned to Overhaul, the terminal he was using to monitor their vitals still in hand, “Kai, you can relax a bit, I only needed it to be 189 not 21—”

“Do not speak to me.”

Kurono sighed, realizing it would be best to put his friend out of his misery before he said anything else stupid today to potentially ruin his chances with the good doctor, “I won’t say another word, but… it’s probably important to note Dr. Tanaka has a cute wife—not as attractive as our dear doctor, but a looker nonetheless. She and Nanami seem to be great friends…” glancing out the corner of his eye he could see Overhaul’s brow furrow as he reluctantly listened,” All three of them hang out pretty regularly, you know. They go on these things called ‘dinner dates’. They poke fun at Dr. Watanabe for being single, but she seems to enjoy her time with them nonetheless. Just a bit of information I thought I’d share.”

At this Overhaul’s head slowly turned to his direction, an incredulous look on his face as Kurono finished speaking, “You motherfu—”

“Dr. Watanabe! You’re back.” Kurono interjected with a level of enthusiasm that felt foreign as he wisely walked over to her, creating distance between himself and his friend.

“Um… yes. Here I am.” She said, a bit confused as to why the usually even-keeled Kurono was so animated while Overhaul now looked like he was having an existential crisis. “You guys good...or?”

“We’re fine.”

“We’re great!”

Not wanting to be in the middle of whatever had happened in the 2 minutes she’d been gone, she thought it best to gloss over it. “Oki doki then… let’s collect these samples.”

Kurono withdrew blood from Nanami then placed gauze on her to absorb the sweat before walking over to Overhaul to do the same. His glare told him it was best not to be within striking distance and promptly handed the supplies to Nanami. “I’ll just be back in the lab computer lab while you guys get some air readings and finish collecting the sweat samples. Be back in 30.”  Kurono said while hurriedly collecting his laptop and the camera’s SD card before leaving. He spared his friend a sympathetic look that was spitefully ignored before closing the door to the observation room behind him.

They sat in silence for the first 5 minutes as Nanami tried to think of a way to break the ice. Having been in the situation so often, she felt like an expert and decided to just go for it, “So, what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“Oh, you know, the plotline of the soap opera that was on last night,” she mocked in an airhead voice before continuing seriously, “—you know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb, you were so mean back there!”

“Of course, I was.”

“I can’t believe yo—wait what?”

“I said of course, I had to be rude. We needed to recreate the scene and you were too calm in comparison to that morning for it to be accurate.”

She raised her hand to point at him, her mouth opening to speak, before stopping short and putting her index to her lips, a pensive look on her face. “So, that was just you… acting?”

“Exactly. Your acting skills being so subpar, I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize it.”

Brushing off his comment, she continued thinking, “But how did you get your heart rate up so high?”

“Practice. Plenty of people can control their heart rate and work themselves up with enough discipline.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that, feeling a bit foolish for letting her feelings cloud her judgement, “Well, wow,” she chuckled derisively to herself,” now I feel silly for getting genuinely worked up at you. Sorry abou—”

“Don’t be. It was for the experiment; your reaction was as it should have been.”

“… Ah. Alright then. Well, how do you want to spend the next… 23 minutes? Besides just working up a sweat, of course.” He gave her a look and she realized it could have been worded better as she rubbed her temples hoping to hide her now very warm cheeks, “... I’m just going to stop talking for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s acceptable, however,” he looked over to her his hand extended as his eyes glanced from her to her bag in the corner.

“… I hate you.” She grabbed her planner and a pen, flipping it to the bookmarked page. Begrudgingly, she handed it over, refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact. He’d been merciful letting a multitude of opportunities slide since that night in the bar, so this time she knew it had to be done.

He placed the tally mark next to her doodle portrait as he first had months ago, satisfied the score was close to being even. “Now, let’s talk theories.”

[theophagism]

this is gonna sound so weird but drop some book recs

please, i love giving book recs! here are a few of my favs in no particular order w/ their Goodreads summary 

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson

A stunning work that is both a novel and a poem, both an unconventional re-creation of an ancient Greek myth and a wholly original coming-of-age story set in the present.

Geryon, a young boy who is also a winged red monster, reveals the volcanic terrain of his fragile, tormented soul in an autobiography he begins at the age of five. As he grows older, Geryon escapes his abusive brother and affectionate but ineffectual mother, finding solace behind the lens of his camera and in the arms of a young man named Herakles, a cavalier drifter who leaves him at the peak of infatuation. When Herakles reappears years later, Geryon confronts again the pain of his desire and embarks on a journey that will unleash his creative imagination to its fullest extent. By turns whimsical and haunting, erudite and accessible, richly layered and deceptively simple, Autobiography of Red is a profoundly moving portrait of an artist coming to terms with the fantastic accident of who he is.

honestly my favorite book. i can’t recommend it enough. it inspired my username and my blog title both here and on my other tumblr accounts. i’m planning on getting a few tattoos based on it as well. 

tw: sexual abuse, disassociation

Night Sky With Exit Wounds By Ocean Vuong

Collection of Vuong’s poetry

tw: internalized/externalized homophobia, poetic violence, the aftermaths of war/immigration  

The River King by Alice Hoffman

People tend to stay in their place in the town of Haddan. The students at the prestigious prep school don't mix with locals. Even within the school, hierarchy rules as freshman and faculty members find out where they fit in and what is expected of them. But when a body is found in the river behind the school, a local policeman will walk into this enclosed world and upset it entirely. A story of surface appearances and the truths submerged below.

so so so so beautiful and heart wrenching. i read it in sixth grade and have kept my copy ever since and haven’t stopped thinking about it. similar to The Secret History and If We Were Villians.

tw: self-harm, suicidal ideation, brutal murder

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality they slip gradually from obsession to corruption and betrayal, and at last - inexorably - into evil. 

in my top five favorite book and one of my most reread. my copy is covered in notes and ramblings.

tw: murder, alcohol and drug abuse

If We Were Villians by M.L. Rio

Oliver Marks has just served ten years in jail - for a murder he may or may not have committed. On the day he's released, he's greeted by the man who put him in prison. Detective Colborne is retiring, but before he does, he wants to know what really happened a decade ago. As one of seven young actors studying Shakespeare at an elite arts college, Oliver and his friends play the same roles onstage and off: hero, villain, tyrant, temptress, ingenue, extra. But when the casting changes, and the secondary characters usurp the stars, the plays spill dangerously over into life, and one of them is found dead. The rest face their greatest acting challenge yet: convincing the police, and themselves, that they are blameless.

it took me a bit to fall into but it’s really good. similar to The Secret History

tw: murder

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

Around the world, black hand prints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky. In a dark and dusty shop, a devil’s supply of human teeth grows dangerously low. And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherworldly war. Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real, she’s prone to disappearing on mysterious "errands", she speaks many languages - not all of them human - and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she’s about to find out. When beautiful, haunted Akiva fixes fiery eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

A wild, passionate story of the intense and almost demonic love between Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, a foundling adopted by Catherine's father. After Mr Earnshaw's death, Heathcliff is bullied and humiliated by Catherine's brother Hindley and wrongly believing that his love for Catherine is not reciprocated, leaves Wuthering Heights, only to return years later as a wealthy and polished man. He proceeds to exact a terrible revenge for his former miseries.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

The story of a young scientist who creates a sapient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment.

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

Through the story of Charles Ryder's entanglement with the Flytes, a great Catholic family, Evelyn Waugh charts the passing of the privileged world he knew in his own youth and vividly recalls the sensuous pleasures denied him by wartime austerities. At once romantic, sensuous, comic, and somber, Brideshead Revisited transcends Waugh's early satiric explorations and reveals him to be an elegiac, lyrical novelist of the utmost feeling and lucidity.

tw: sad ending, alcoholism

Crush by Richard Siken

Collection of Siken’s poetry

tw: internalized/externalized homophobia, poetic violence

The Likeness by Tana French

Cassie Maddox has transferred out of the Dublin Murder Squad with no plans to go back—until an urgent telephone call summons her to a grisly crime scene. The victim looks exactly like Cassie and carries ID identifying herself as Alexandra Madison, an alias Cassie once used as an undercover cop. Cassie must discover not only who killed this girl, but, more important, who was this girl?

it is part of a sort of series but it isn’t necessary to read the other books, though they’re great. I also recommend Broken Harbour from that series. similar to The Secret History.

tw: murder, one brief scene of homophobia by a main character’s family

Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures by Merlin Sheldrake

When we think of fungi, we likely think of mushrooms. But mushrooms are only fruiting bodies, analogous to apples on a tree. Most fungi live out of sight, yet make up a massively diverse kingdom of organisms that supports and sustains nearly all living systems. Fungi provide a key to understanding the planet on which we live, and the ways we think, feel, and behave. In Entangled Life, the biologist Merlin Sheldrake shows us the world from a fungal point of view. Sheldrake's exploration takes us from yeast to psychedelics, to the fungi that range for miles underground and are the largest organisms on the planet, to those that link plants together in complex networks known as the "Wood Wide Web," to those that infiltrate and manipulate insect bodies with devastating precision.

tw: will make you stare at the mushrooms at the grocery store for an ungodly amount of time

[cake-writes]

Little Lies (Part Nine)

Pairings: Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader // Slight Natasha x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+

Summary: You went to Bucky when you wanted punishment. He’d be rough with you because he understood your self-loathing, and he’d leave bruises on your hips that wouldn’t go away for a week. You loved it. He didn’t.

You went to Steve when you wanted reassurance. You went to him because he liked to whisper sweet, sweet things into your ear as he made love to you. He’d tell you that you were perfect and amazing and beautiful. Then you’d get your fill, just far too much of it. He cared too much.

It all came to a head when the three of you went on a mission together. You’d done it a hundred times, even during this mess of a situation, and still neither of them was any the wiser. Your little lies always slipped right through the cracks - until one night, they didn’t.

Part Eight / Master List

Bucky immediately noticed the lack of tension between you and Steve.

At first, he thought that the two of you must have talked it out sometime after he went to bed. It certainly wouldn’t have surprised him; he’d had done a lot of thinking over the last month during your absence, and at one point they finally talked about you. That conversation was very much overdue, and it had cleared the air in a way.

Steve admitted that he missed you and, despite everything, he still cared about you as much as he wished he didn’t. He hated how angry he’d gotten with you.

Bucky would have been lying if he didn’t feel the same way, but he didn’t really verbalize it. He didn’t need to, because Steve already knew.

What they came up with in the end wasn’t exactly a truce, but it wasn’t not one, either. Assuming you even came back, of course, which you did – albeit not willingly.

He quickly realized that whatever was going on between you and Steve was more than just a heart-to-heart. During breakfast, you brushed shoulders at the table; a coy smile tugged at your lips while Steve looked back over at you in amusement. You snuck glances at his best friend every now and then, too, and there was a certain longing in your eyes that Bucky recognized in an instant.

You’d looked at him just like that when he brought you back two nights ago, too.

You hadn’t just missed him. You’d missed Steve, too, and now something had clearly happened between the two of you.

Bucky damn well hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.

Not again.

The five of you finalized your plans later that morning.

You were planning to attend a fundraising gala tonight. All of the higher-ranking cartel members would be there, and your original plan was to sneak some photos of them throughout the evening. You already knew them and knew what they looked like, but the others didn’t, so the photos were necessary evil.

Your target would also be in attendance: one of your father’s lieutenants, the one who trafficked things in and out of the United States, the reclusive missing link. Tonight, attendance was mandatory. As much as you were dreading it, this was your one chance of getting a photo, otherwise it would be months before you got another chance.

How your teammates knew about any of it, you weren’t entirely sure. You assumed they must have tracked you somehow. Probably tapped your new phone, at the very least. You didn’t really care.

That stupid gala was why you were here with them now. Judging by your erratic behaviour as of late, Tony didn’t think you’d come back willingly. He thought that maybe sending Barnes would disarm you a little, but holy hell, had it ever.

Because he was the closest thing you had to real family, Tony wanted to open a dialogue with you. He knew how much it would hurt you to be there. You’d purposely spent five long years away from it all, trying to do something good for a change, and now you were going right back into the shark pit. His original plan was to give you some reassurance, at least until he finally saw you in person – then he realized that you’d gone completely off the rails, so much that he wanted to take you away from here, take you home.

You refused.

You didn’t have a home.

As much as it frustrated Tony to the nth degree, he compromised. He had to for the sake of the mission. The five of you agreed to keep your same plan, except with the added caveat that you weren’t going in alone.

Natasha was a master of disguise, even on the run. So was Bucky. It made sense for them to go to the gala with you for, if nothing else, backup – but it would also allow for more evidence. Steve was entirely too recognizable, let alone a terrible liar, and Tony – well, Tony was just too recognizable. The two of them would provide support from outside if needed.

You didn’t think it would be necessary.

The three of you easily got in, as to be expected. Not one of them, not even Tony, had believed that your reputation would precede you, but it did. You had Bucky on one arm and Natasha on the other: your plus ones for the evening. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have more than one date for an event like this. Back then, you loved to flaunt your sexuality, much to your father’s disapproval – but he allowed it because, in a way, it was also a display of power.

And it really was.

Heads turned when you first came in. Natasha made jokes about it under her breath, to which you actually smiled. It was genuine.  

In clear contrast, Bucky completely ignored the two of you. He’d played along just fine at the door, but now that you were inside, the three of you had planned to split up and he didn’t hesitate at all. It was like your very presence unnerved him, and of course it did, considering what he’d learnt about you let alone what he’d seen you do. You were honestly surprised he was willing to even play along at all.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was still so in love with you, he couldn’t stand it. After he learned what you’d done for so many years, he saw red. You’d done the exact same thing that Hydra did to oppress him – possess him – for seventy years. He took it personally, and even now, it hurt.

You’d only hurt him like that once before, on that cold, wintery night in Iceland.

But then, he finally saw the real you. You were covered in another person’s blood, holding a gun to Bucky’s forehead with so little emotion, almost robotic – but when you realized it was him, there was a small spark of recognition in your eyes.

He knew you wouldn’t go willingly, but you didn’t want to fight him, either. You looked weary, with dark circles under your eyes despite your flawless makeup. You were tired of the fighting and the bloodshed and the misery that came along with whatever role you played, Avenger or not.

You surrendered yourself to him, similar to how you’d done with him behind closed doors so many times before. It was almost poetic in a way – almost meant to be an apology for what people like you had done to people like him. You didn’t put up a fight when his fingers wrapped around your throat, his fingertips hot on your pulse. Instead, you met his eyes and in them, he saw the longing.

You missed him. Even he could see it.

As your consciousness faded, your body slumped against him and he effortlessly lifted you into his arms. You were so soft and warm against him, and the scent of your perfume was intoxicating. You always smelled so fucking good, and he’d missed it because his pillows no longer smelled like you.

He missed you, too, but he wasn’t ready to confront those feelings.

Not yet.  

As the night wore on, the sea of familiar faces all started to become a bit too much. You were right back in the midst of everything you hated about yourself – hated what these people had forced you to do. It was making you remember everything you’d done for the cartel, for your family, and you were starting to panic.

The last month had been a bit of a blur. You dissociated like you’d done many times before. You put on a character, almost, to separate the real you from the you that did horrible things. Now, you were a mixture of both and it made you feel like you were suffocating in your own skin.

You needed to get out of here now but you were upstairs. You couldn’t get out quickly or easily without drawing attention to yourself, which meant you needed another escape route or some other kind of distraction.

Natasha was somewhere on one of the floors below, mingling with the crowd of millionaires in her own charming way. She was too far away to be of any help. Steve and Tony were outside, probably canvassing the perimeter, and Bucky, well, he was in here somewhere but you weren’t sure where. You’d lost sight of him after he stormed off.

That was when you thought of it: a bathroom. If you could find a bathroom, then you could get away from all this for just a few minutes. It would give you a chance to breathe and calm down before you blew your cover. When you felt your breathing quicken, you quickly muted your comms before anyone noticed something was wrong.

A small smile here, a quick brush against a stranger there, you weaved your way through the crowd at what you hoped was a normal, everyday pace – not how you so desperately wanted to break into a run. The further away from the main festivities you went, though, the crowd thinned out quite a bit, and further back on the upper floors you found some privacy in the form of an empty office.

Well, almost.

That was where you found Bucky, and you instantly felt a little better despite the fact that you were staring straight down the barrel of his handgun. He must have heard you coming. You assumed he’d been searching through some files for more intel when he heard your approach, and he’d immediately gone on the defensive.

“Bucky,” came your desperate whimper, and then he barely even had the chance to lower his firearm before you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. The familiar feeling of him did wonders to calm you down, but you were still too keyed up, too anxious.

Bucky froze up at the sudden affection from you. Something was very, very wrong for you to act like this. It’d been months since the last time he held you like this, and your relationship was still in shambles – not to mention the fact that he wasn’t ready to confront you yet. He was still processing.

Despite everything, he couldn’t help but make sure you were alright. You had some kind of pull over him that drove him insane. He quickly muted his comms for your privacy and shoved his handgun back into its holster before his hands came to rest on either side of your face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t be here,” you admitted as hot tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t do this, Bucky. I have to get out of here.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he reassured you, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you. Your body noticeably melted against him as he slowly started to stroke your back in his familiar way, an empowering feeling he loved and hated all at once. Your shaky breaths against his neck were driving him up an absolute wall, but you were upset and he did his best to push it from his mind. “Calm down. We’ve still got plenty of time to finish the mission.”

Right. The mission. That was the entire reason you were here, but now you were losing it – and if you didn’t get a grip on yourself, you’d fuck this up. This was your one chance, and you couldn’t blow it.  

You took one long breath in through your nose, and then you let it out just as slowly, trying to calm yourself down. Then you did it again, and a third time for good measure. It worked a little, but not enough, and you whispered, “I need to forget.”

Bucky’s comforting hand on your back instantly stilled. He knew what you meant. The way he said your name sent chills down your spine – a warning – and he followed it with a firm, “No.”

You slowly pulled back to look at him, only to find that despite his refusal, he looked every bit as conflicted as you felt. His pale blue eyes were soft, but guarded. The slight flush on his cheeks was proof enough that he remembered the many times he’d made you forget before.  

This would be no different, surely – except in every way, it would be. Things were much simpler back then, not the convoluted mess they were now.  

You swallowed thickly and averted your eyes, before you asked almost inaudibly, “Please?”

The way you asked the question was timid and meek, and you weren’t proud of it. No, in fact you were downright ashamed to ask him to do the exact thing that you’d hurt him so badly with before. Stupid as it sounded, you were selfish but even you wouldn’t have asked had it not been important.  

Without a clear head, you couldn’t get a visual on your target, and without that visual, you had nothing. The mission would be a failure. The full month of hard work that everyone had put in would be wasted. In your fucked-up mind, this was as good a solution as any.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, then, and his eyes hardened on yours. He knew it too. If this was what you needed to complete the mission, then so be it. He was a soldier. He’d been trained to do what was required for a favourable outcome. He just hated that it was this.

Bucky grit out a single, “Fine,” before he gently pushed you back against the wooden desk, nudging your legs apart with his knee. The blunt edge of the desk bit into your ass as you willingly spread your legs for him, looking up at his face through your lashes. Your breaths were shaky and nervous; not from anxiety, now, but from anticipation.

He paused to take you in – your eyes dark with desire, cheeks flushed, worrying your lower lip between your teeth – and the sight turned him on beyond belief. Then he remembered that it wasn’t a specific want for him that brought you here. It could have been anyone. Steve. Natasha. It didn’t matter to you. 

All that mattered was your need to forget.

With your arms around his neck, you slowly pulled him down for a kiss like you’d done so many times before – but his lips barely brushed against yours before he pulled away just enough to rest his forehead on your shoulder. His voice was hushed when he told you, “I can’t.”

That came like a slap in the face to you, but you should have expected it. Of course he wouldn’t want to kiss you. You’d hurt him in so many ways. He was only doing this for the mission. It was impersonal, and kissing was anything but impersonal. You understood, but it still stung.

You let out another shaky breath. “Y-Yeah. Okay. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

None of it did, but he knew how much you needed this. He just wished he didn’t.

Bucky hiked up your gown around your waist with his metal arm, and with the other, his hand was warm and familiar as he slowly slid it up your bare thigh, his fingertips ghosting against your skin. Even if your relationship was beyond repair, his touch still sparked something in you that made you want him. Then again, you always wanted him.

When Bucky’s fingers brushed against the soft fabric your panties, one of your hands came to rest on his arm. It was a habit of yours, automatic, not so much to guide him anymore but to just feel him while his fingers worked downright magic on you. Even now, he let you do it because it was a sweet, intimate gesture that he’d always loved.

His thumb found your clit, where he rubbed slow, teasing circles through delicate lace and a quiet whine escaped you from his gentle touch. You felt the muscles in his arm tense up, and for a moment, he stopped.  

Something inside of him snapped at the sound.

In that moment, you realized that he was clearly forcing himself to do something he didn’t want to. Of course he didn’t want to after everything you’d done to him. You opened your mouth, about to tell him that he didn’t have to do this, you’d manage somehow – when his soft lips were suddenly hot on your throat and his hand was inside your panties, his fingers sliding through your slippery folds with ease.

“You’re so wet,” he growled against your neck.

The low timbre of his voice combined with his sudden actions wrenched an undignified moan from you. “Bucky—”

He shoved a finger inside of you, roughly, but you could handle it; you could always handle it. You’d always loved it rough, and some small part of him still loved to treat you that way, even if the rest of him didn’t. He loved that you weren’t as breakable as you seemed.

You were just wet enough for him start a certain rhythm that he knew you liked. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and you couldn’t hold back a gasp, your hips bucking up into his palm as you used your arm around his neck to pull him even closer.

In response to your impatience, he sucked a bruise on your neck that made you whimper. You were absolutely drenched for him and he slid another finger inside you with ease, the heel of his hand slick against your clit.  

“Fuck,” you whined, holding onto him for what felt like dear life. His lips and teeth and tongue were hot on your neck, and when he pulled back just a little, his breath against the saliva-slickened skin of your throat sent a shiver down your spine.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he cooed, hooking his fingers against your g-spot which made your back arch. He just pulled you closer, so that your body was flush and writhing against him.

The only response he got from you was an unintelligible moan, almost loud enough to drown out the wet, messy sounds coming from your slick heat.

It turned you on even more to feel how hard he was for you against your thigh, his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. When you palmed him, however, he shoved your hand away and then added a third finger, as if to punish you for even attempting it. The stretch of three of his fingers was a delicious burn, one that sent you reeling.

“Don’t,” he told you in warning, nipping your earlobe. “This is all I’m giving you.”

His fingers. Not his cock.

It was a gentle reminder that the only reason he was doing this was for the mission. It wasn’t for you, specifically, but a means to an end. He wasn’t going to fuck you like you so desperately wanted him to, like he’d done so many times before to distract you, to make you forget. This was impersonal, and while it was another clear refusal, he already had you on the brink and you didn’t have it in you to argue.

It was teasing, almost, the way he lifted your thigh with his other arm to reach deeper inside of you. It made you want his cock even more, because his fingers could only reach so far and the only thing preventing you from taking every thick inch of him was him. You could almost grind against him as it was, but he was purposely preventing that.

He wouldn’t kiss you. He wouldn’t fuck you. You knew he was only doing this for you out of some warped sense of duty, but it was working for you anyway. He knew your body ridiculously well.  

Bucky curled his fingers inside of you at the same time he fucked you with them, rough and brutal, and you couldn’t help but release a loud string of gasps and curses. You felt like you were about to burst.

“Shh,” he whispered against your neck. “Gotta be quiet, doll. Someone will hear.”

You knew just as well as he did that if you didn’t stay quiet, the two of you would get caught, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Then again, you weren’t in your right mind.

At least one of you was.

Even so, he didn’t relent and as much as you tried to hold back your moans, you couldn’t. Instead, you bit down on his shoulder to try and muffle the noise. The thin material of his button-down shirt did nothing to prevent your teeth from sinking in. It didn’t break the skin, but it definitely would have been hard enough to hurt. Not that you cared in the heat of the moment.

It didn’t faze him, either. Instead, it spurred him on.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you gently. “Bite as hard as you need to.”

God, he was so, so skilled at hitting all the right spots inside of you, the very ones that got you higher and higher and drove you absolutely crazy. Your mind was blissfully blank as he brought you to the edge, and you gasped out, “I’m– I’m close—”

“Such a good girl,” he breathed into your ear, holding your writhing body firmly in place as he finger-fucked you into oblivion. His palm, slick from your juices, pressed harder down on your clit, and then his tongue laved against the hypersensitive skin of your neck, his lips hot and wet against your pulse. “Gonna come for me?”

His dirty talk was what pushed you over the edge, and you shattered in his arms with a sharp, strangled cry. Your walls squeezed his fingers tightly over and over as you rode out wave after wave of your orgasm.

When your body finally went limp, he slowly pulled his fingers from your perfect, glistening cunt, which made you shiver.

A few moments passed as Bucky located a box of tissues – took a couple for himself to clean his fingers, and then he handed the box to you. That stung just a little, because once upon a time he would have licked them clean, or even made you do it. Now, there were very clear boundaries. He certainly didn’t want to cross them, but you did.

What’s worse was how painfully casual it was when he asked you, “Is that better?”

He almost seemed unaffected by everything that had just transpired. Almost – but you could discern the slight roughness in his voice that betrayed how worked up he was, not to mention the fact that he was rock fucking hard for you and he wouldn’t let you help him with it. There was a noticeable bulge in his pants and you desperately wanted to return the favour, but he’d told you no.

He rejected you.

“Yeah,” you responded breathily. “Thank you.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as you cleaned yourself up and readjusted your gown. The desk was surprisingly fine and not drenched, just a couple of papers askew which Bucky returned to their rightful places, and then he went right back to going through the files he’d been in the middle of reading before you so rudely interrupted.

There wasn’t a mirror in this little office, so you had no idea if you looked presentable or not. You certainly didn’t feel presentable. You felt freshly fucked. Even though you’d used tissues to clean up, your panties were sticking uncomfortably to you beneath your dress.

“How do I look?”

When Bucky’s eyes lifted from the file in his hands to you, you almost forgot how to breathe. He was acting so nonchalant about it all, but the way he was looking at you, eyes dark and tracing every single feature upon your face and down your body, betrayed exactly how much you’d affected him.  

He reached out to truck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the cold metal of his fingers a blissful chill against your flushed cheeks. When you leaned into his touch, he pulled his hand away.

“Perfect,” he responded honestly.

The smile you offered him was coy, which was just hilarious considering what the two of you had just done. “Thanks.”

Bucky just nodded to the door and said, “Go get ‘em.”

“Roger that.”

When you got to the door, you turned around again, wanting to say something, anything to prolong whatever this was – this warmth – only to find that he’d already turned his attention back to the file in his hands.

Of course he did. You had a mission to focus on. He did too.

You closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

The moment he found himself alone, Bucky let out a long, shaky breath and collapsed into the leather desk chair, dropping the file in his hands back onto the desk. God, you were going to be the death of him. He dragged his hands down his face, absolutely exhausted from resisting you, and immediately realized what a mistake that was.

Christ, he could smell you. Even though he’d wiped his hands with a couple of tissues, the scent of you remained and he knew if he put his fingers in his mouth, he’d be able to taste you, too.

You were going to be the death of him.

Part Ten

[umbralich]

Never ending survey

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs!

Tagged by: @lareine-kira and @paleshadeofrose

Tagging: @hangedemperor , @istolin , @maximiloix , @trahja-tia , @eorzeasfrozenknight , @charm-in-spades , @thorcatte , @haila-wetyios , @a-sharlayan-abroad

---

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Varg Blacksoul, formerly Timur Oronir NICKNAME: Varg-Varg (given by Lareine), Stiffy and Grumpy (given by Silke) AGE:  54 BIRTHDAY:  9th sun of the 1st astral moon ETHNIC GROUP: Xaela Au Ra NATIONALITY: Othard, Ishgard LANGUAGE/S: Common, xaelic, ishgardian SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single and not looking for company. HOME TOWN / AREA:  Dawn Throne, Azim Steppe CURRENT HOME:  Pillars, Ishgard PROFESSION: Paladin, medic/healer at Ishgard’s service.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Long and silvery grey. EYES: Black with white limbal rings, small irises. FACE: Angular features, long nose, high cheekbones. LIPS: Narrow, often cracked, slightly darker than his usual skin color. COMPLEXION: Grayish purple BLEMISHES: Dark circles SCARS: Lots of scars which he keeps hidden at all times. Two thick, long ones are visible and almost go across his right eye. TATTOOS: No tattoos. HEIGHT:  210cm WEIGHT: Slightly underweight BUILD: Slender but masculine, somewhat toned. FEATURES: Black markings around eyes, and naturally thick, black claws. ALLERGIES: None USUAL HAIR STYLE: At work or formal meetings it’s combed back either completely or with some locks on his temples left loose. In more casual situations he mostly just lets it be. USUAL FACE LOOK: Calm, focused, narrowed eyes. USUAL CLOTHING:  Full, dignified heavy armor or parts of it combined with a long coat, formal robes, jodhpurs, vests, blouses and high-heeled boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Imprisonment, being held or tied down, physical pain, betrayal. ASPIRATION/S: To be successful, self-sufficient and powerful until the end, to bring as many as possible wrongdoers to justice, to find an heir, and catch people still on the loose who managed to escape his revenge long ago.

POSITIVE TRAITS: He keeps his word, doesn’t leave things unfinished, is a good motivator for slackers, aims for high-quality results in everything, is reasonable and logical.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Insensible towards most of people, logic always comes before his own or other people’s feelings, very straightforward, capable of cruelty if necessary.

TEMPERAMENT: Calm SOUL TYPE/S: Thinker ANIMALS: Gray wolf

VICE HABIT/S: Smoking. He hates it, but it’s the least harmful thing that calms his nerves down, and he’s addicted. He tries to limit it though, and use it only in worst occasions, since he doesn’t want the side effects affecting his health or work. If things get especially grim, he also has full stashes of potent liquor and intravenous sedatives.

FAITH: Science usually comes first, but he’s also spiritual in some way. It’s one of those topics he doesn’t discuss with anyone. Some of his duties include working as a cleric, so it may have something to do with Halone. Or then it doesn’t, and it’s just another job.

GHOSTS?: Has seen them with his own eyes so can’t deny their existence. AFTERLIFE?: He hopes it exists, for reasons. REINCARNATION?: It’s a possibility.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Generally neutral, but on demand would choose the side of underdogs: ignoble, the poor and the sick, minors etc. Wouldn’t show his alignment publicly if it was a threat to himself. Would also pretend to be supporting the oppressor, only trying to sabotage their work at every opportunity. Even I’m not sure would he actually die for anyone else or some common cause. He has fled once to save his own hide and he could do it again. Knows main points of what’s going on and where around the world for the sake of common knowledge, but is only interested in topics that concern himself. Has been a target for racists since arriving to Ishgard as a teenager, so he despises them from the bottom of his heart.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Learned

FAMILY.

FATHER : Not relevant MOTHER :  Not relevant SIBLINGS : None that he knows of EXTENDED FAMILY: Iris Ymir (patient and protege) and Arsene Dreadeois (butler)

NAME MEANING/S:

Timur is a Turkic and Mongolic name which literally means iron. In Indonesian, timur translates to east and symbolizes hope by the rising sun.

All members of the Oronir tribe believe themselves to be direct descendants of Azim, the tribe's god of the sun.

Varg is wolf in swedish. Varg was also originally a nickname given by his friends at the Steppe. It was the only thing he kept after starting his new life in Ishgard and severing his ties with his homeland.

Blacksoul was given by his comrades in the army for being so ruthless towards enemies - both the ones on the battlefield and the ones captured.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None

FAVORITES.

BOOK:  Science, mythology, swordplay, alchemy, etc. Everything that has something to do with his work or hobbies. DEITY: Halone seems to share most of his values. HOLIDAY: Doesn’t celebrate any. MONTH: September and October. There isn’t many little things in life he gets pleasure from, but fall colors is one of them. SEASON: Fall and winter. PLACE: His estate, cathedrals, libraries and forges. WEATHER: Thick fog, rain and sunshine at the same time. SOUND/S: Fire, rain and musical instruments when someone who actually knows what they’re doing plays them. SCENT/S: Herbs, iron, parchment. TASTE/S:  Whisky, tea, whatever Arsene makes. FEEL/S:  Clean clothes, heat radiating from a fireplace. ANIMAL/S:  Doesn’t like animals except for his chocobo, Mori. NUMBER: Doesn’t care about numbers. COLORS: White, black, blood red, gold, silver.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Accuracy of a chirurgeon, skillful with swords, managing to define a goal fast in any kind of surprising situation and being very patient and stubborn at achieving it.  BAD AT: Admitting he has weaknesses, comforting people, having fun, small talk, relaxing. HOBBIES: Reading, studying, weapon maintenance, alchemy. TROPES: Antihero, tragic hero and mad scientist. Definitely could also be a villain. Depends on whom you ask.

QUOTES:

“Since you seem to be so worried of my… customers, perhaps I should take you along the next time I interrogate them. You would see with your own eyes what kind of delicate, exquisite and misunderstood individuals they are, when they spit on you, mock their victims and brag about the amount of people they have raped or murdered.”

“Today it happens. Make sure she is out of here before I return tonight. I am no longer even sure which one of them is the worse one.”

“It was a mere procedure. If procedures were considered intimate, I would be close friends with half of Ishgard by now.”

“Do tell me... If you work as much as you claim, how come you are always broke when we meet?”

“Very well. Play something for me. Let us see are you a man of your word.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :  If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  He’s been busy sticking his spoon into so many soups during his life that you could probably make a trilogy of his fooleries feats. The first part would tell about his early life in Azim Steppe and how he was forced to leave from there, the second part about how he found his soulmate and adapted to his new life in Ishgard, and how it all eventually ended up into a shitstorm, and the third one would be the current storyline. No clue about the name, though. The Soulforge would be perfect but too bad it’s taken.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 : Bloodborne, Dark Souls and Amnesia the Dark Descent OSTs are absolutely the closest ones you could get to Varg. Orchestral, choir, bowed string instruments, both epic and monstrous. Even if there were more peaceful pieces here and there, while listening to them you’d still have that same feeling of dread you used to have while playing the original Resident Evil and Silent Hill games and finding a safe room: you just barely escaped death but can’t stay in the safe haven forever.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 : He’s quite different compared to my Forsaken shadow priestess in WoW, whom I used to RP for... two or three years? Long story short: I wanted something else for a change. I also used to have an old Forsaken death knight, who was a lot more similar to Varg, but he was more evil. He existed pretty much only for occasions when someone needed a true villain for some plot. He was funny however and I always thought it was a pity I didn’t get chances to RP him more often.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 : He’s a mixture of four different OCs of mine, with a bit of his original spice ofc. One of them came into being in, uh, somewhat obscure conditions. Kept seeing him in my dreams when I was a kid, and he became one of my imaginary friends I used to have back then. And not just one of the many, but the closest one. Also generally in entertainment I couldn’t care less about Lukes and Frodos. Villains, tragic heroes and the like are my thing. They’re usually the most multilayered and interesting characters.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Perfectionism. I’m similar and it sometimes drives me nuts to watch him neglecting himself while trying to achieve perfection. If I could physically talk to him I would go and slap him and be like “EAT. SLEEP. YES THE THING IS GOOD ENOUGH ALREADY. LEAVE IT.”

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :  Well, already kind of answered this one, but wait, there’s more: insomnia, nightmares, PTSD, misanthropy and cynicism come to mind first. And booze. How could I almost forget booze? I believe I know what misery is so I’m good at RPing miserable characters and make them look as authentic as possible. *lols like Alcyone from Magic Knight Rayearth* We both also have a strong sense of justice and nonexistent sympathy for those who use others as stepping stones. Aye I know, sounds a lot like a self-insert character, but it’s not like that. It’s more like... before meeting him/the OCs he’s based on, I used to be quite a scentless and tasteless kid. Similarities and peer support attract. And I’ve also learned from him.

It’s also a lot like me and Lareine. We became friends because we had 95% of the same interests and problems but perhaps that’s why we get along so well and understand each other.

Q7 :  How does  your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :  He would probably hate and like me at the same time. Or couldn’t decide. We both like peace and quiet, doing our job well is fundamental and our basic values are pretty much the same. We would get along well if we worked in the same place. However, unlike him, I have some horrid procrastination seasons, crippling self-esteem issues, tend to put other people’s needs and opinions above my own and keep stressing about things for 7 billion souls instead of just myself. I’m suspicious of pretty much everything else except Lareine and our plushie crow Agatha, except that Agatha creeps me out sometimes as well when she takes out a knife and sits next to my bed at night, staring at me, can’t watch Hachiko without bawling my eyes out during the entire movie, love puppies and kittens and danger noodles and I’m addicted to video games. Very likely he’d kick me out as well.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?        

A8 : Varg would never admit it to himself, but I think he gets best along with people who are a bit silly in some way, and who get on his nerves by being too carefree and doing stupid things. Lareine and Iris, when they’re behaving. Arsene, who’s kind at everyone. Currently Shaura is my favorite. Varg himself is so uptight people like them help breaking his gray routines. Also a bonus: he doesn’t see them as a threat, so that’s probably the closest he’s able to get to relaxing among other people.

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse?        

A9 : I’m a fan of my own characters. It doesn’t feel like I would’ve created them. I saw them with my third eye or something and I’ve just written for others to read what I’ve seen. I don’t plan RPs beforehand. I just let the hound loose and let him do whatever he wants. So far I haven’t got tired of my characters’ antics and could just write more. The only obstacles are limited hours per day, necessary evils like eating and sleeping, procrastination, trying to sort out my life, and the damn FFXIV. SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE IT OUT OF MY HANDS.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?          

A10 : Ehh, maybe 4-5 hours.

[theosdoros-blog1]

❝ Wish somebody would’ve told me I’d end up so lost without you leading me astray. ❞ ALEX FITZALAN? No, that’s actually THEODORE BURKE. A SEVENTH YEAR student, this RAVENCLAW student is sided with THE DEATH EATERS. HE identifies as a CIS-MAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be EGOTISTICAL, BOISTEROUS, and FLIPPANT but also VIBRANT, AUDACIOUS, and STAUNCH. { CAMI, NINETEEN, GMT, SHE/HER }

THE BURKES

old money, old names, old houses - although their name was proudly featured in the list of sacred pureblood families, kept pure throughout the ages, the burkes were never truly a part of that group. their ancestry was foggy, with no dusty records of alliances and ministry positions. their wealth was sufficient, yes, but never in the expected way. the oldest record of a burke they could relate to the present family was a healer of little consequence, and the rest mostly worked for others, especially under the great names they supposedly considered their equal. to marry a burke wasn’t treason, but it was a step down, the acceptance of an insignificant middle-class life.

the family wealth grew when, in 1863, they partnered with the borgins to establish a shop in knockturn alley. their business? buying and reselling wizarding artifacts, mostly belonging to other more reputable families. the burke’s most potent claim to fame and respect was to be the money-hungry keeper of the deeds and inventories of their superiors. that stigma still accompanies the family to this day, anchoring them in a position of SERVITUDE to the other great families - the burkes are not able to make their own history, so they buy and sell others’ for what they’d consider small change.

nevertheless, it has put them in the public conscience, even if negatively. the shop has grown over the last nearly two centuries, but has remained strongly in the family’s hands. borgin and burkes is where people from all walks of life can attempt to sell their latest steal or inheritance, and where one may find the cursed objects capable to cause all sorts of pain, death, misery. the burkes may be inferior, but they are resourceful and plenty useful. their contacts with the criminal underground of the wizarding world and their possession of dark magic objects turned them into a desirable addition to extremist movements, even if never in positions of high power. grindelwald’s army simply led to half the family being imprisoned, some dying while evading capture. some years later, however, the remaining burke’s gave a chance to a young man who would not forget the name he worked for. the job gave tom riddle a public justification for his search of knowledge in areas of magic so nefarious that no other place would allow for them to be explored but borgin and burkes. when he finished his ascent from man to power, he kept in mind those names. the recently graduated children of his employer, with whom he’d spent some shifts at the store during their summer breaks, got the promotion of their lives, with a mark on their arm and a mask over their faces. when their dark lord returned, it was their children’s turn.

merrick burke didn’t share the devotion of his elders, but certainly felt the same gratitude. to be picked, from all possible choices, to join the forces of the new era was, once again, the promotion he would have never dreamt of. in a perfect world, he’d have remained in the store, mostly dealing with finances as he’d always prefered, a quiet life that would leave barely more than a footnote in the writings of history. but how could he refuse such an offer? the man took the mark immediately, ready to pledge his all to the cause.

when their attempt at a fully fledged second war failed, merrick retreated to the store, forever hiding the lines on his skin. his girlfriend, esme flint, did the same, and their short-lived part in the second rise of the dark lord faded from memory. between then and the reformation of the death eaters, the couple married, devoted themselves to the shop and to evading association with their previous criminal activities, vowed to never speak of the darkest things they’ve done, and had two children.

BEFORE

born on august 13th, 2007, theodore talbot burke was brought into a peaceful world. the small cottage in upper flagley, yorkshire, made up most of his existence for a few years. the world of impressive estates and ancient manors was the stuff of books and the occasional wedding or birthday celebration of some family friend, or acquaintance from his parents “old job”. the young boy’s loud personality made it possible, however, for even those encounters to grant him friendships he held dear, even when he was stuck in his small village. he always prefered those other children, though. at least with them he didn’t have to be careful to mention his parent’s store or which spells they were performing at home. after all, upper flagley was mostly wizard populated, but still had a handful of muggle families settled there. a preference was clear in his mind. children with magical families like his, no matter how different from the burkes, understood him better than the rest. they were EASIER.

hogwarts was the adventure theodore had been craving for ever since he could remember. it was bigger and much more interesting than the broken clock that was upper flagley. it was a place where he could spend all of his time with the types of people he actually liked, those whose experiences were the same as him, with no fears of saying something he should not say. in many aspects, it was a reinvention. at last, he could attempt to become the person he’d rather be, full-time. one single train ride was enough for him to make sure most people his year at least knew his face, as he popped in to chat for a while. the sight of the castle came with a clear indication: he was finally somewhere big enough to contain all of him. his energy quickly had him dubbed as the wannabe class clown, evidence in the story of how the burke boy, while playing around in the small boat that’d lead them across the lake and pretending to be their legendary sea captain, tripped and fell into the water.

theodore was sorted rather quickly into the ravenclaw house, and that made sense to him. his mother was the smartest person he knew, and she owned more books than he could recall. his father was a genius with numbers. he’d certainly get his chance to prove his intelligence at hogwarts. the first year was a rude awakening.

try as he might, the boy seemed to lack behind in most things. in a highly individualistic group such as the ravenclaws, he found himself more and more alone in times of need. sure, theo was funny, he’d make the entire classroom giggle; he’d entertain his dorm room until near dusk; yet his connections felt hollow. he wasn’t creative. he wasn’t very book smart. his house felt less and less like home - perhaps the hat had made a mistake. maybe he was a gryffindor like his mother, or a slytherin like his father. perhaps an hufflepuff even.

during his second year, theo was louder, more boisterous, a bit too much for some people’s tastes. what he lacked in grades and proper friendships, he made up in stage presence. it was near impossible to not notice when theo was sitting right next to you, or even in the same room. he tried out for the quidditch team (and failed), and ended up joining a few extracurriculars to fill his time with things he could actually be good at. years of learning the violin with his neighbor, an elderly witch who’d done some tours with some forgotten orchestras, came in handy when he joined the hogwarts’ orchestra (although he only ever got truly good at it during his third year, with intensive practice). the debate club became one of his favourite activities, it being an outlet for the endless bite in him, to the constant need in theo to say something back until only he could have the final word. without realising it, he expanded his skills into things he could actually do. creativity. music. spontaneity. an ability to think on his feet at all times. a pompous nearly-suave way of being.

after over a decade of struggling, the burkes at last brought to the world another child and for the rest of the school year, that was all theo could talk about. philippa, philippa, philippa. to this day, she is his favourite person in the world and he cares about her just so much.

NOW

the following years were a constant discovery of who theodore burke truly is. although he’s been achieving no better than passing grades, except at DADA, which most have attributed to all the knowledge he gets by working summers at his family’s store; theo’s proven himself in the two extracurriculars he’s in, and spent most of his sixth year training to join the dueling club and not make a fool of himself, or at least no more than one would expect from him.

a big part of that discovery was a conversation his parents had with him during one summer, when he asked them in the middle of the store why they hid their dark marks. while not the most astute of people, a fourteen year old theo had heard enough about the boy who lived, the dark lord who’d terrified the word, and his many followers. he’d seen enough pictures from trials and attacks in some books. the kernels of ideology he’d been catching all his life came together in that kitchen table, when he was told of the generous and righteous man who’d attempted to make a new world time and time again, for which the rest were simply not prepared. it wasn’t exactly an hostile story, but rather one of a rebel that kept being taken down by the establishment. the darked deeds the burkes themselves had been involved in? necessary evils. an escalation of events easily preventable had the ministry done something more.

it was a stark contrast. the loud boy that played the violin and made paper planes with his unfinished exam sheets. the legacy of a revolutionary line that was waiting for its new leader.

he digested it the only way he knew how - by sharing his experience to those who understood him. that group kept getting smaller, and by the end of his sixth year it was mostly those who carried the same expectation to join the ranks as soon as their leader returned to continue the war.

the dissonance caused him great confusion. still struggling to understand his very own moral compass, theo began his final year at hogwarts with a bang. suddenly the big question was no longer what the orchestra should play for the christmas concert or what he’d do after hogwarts before he resigned to his faith of working at knockturn alley. no. it was who to turn to as his world shifted more than it ever had. it didn’t take long for one side to attract him, the one he’d gotten the closest to in the previous few years, those who understood the weight of his burden. their names had history too, much longer than his, more scarier. theo has quickly adapted to his role as support. he isn’t the brightest, the strongest, the fastest, but he’s been training like hell. he has the connections the group might need at times. he isn’t seen as exactly a powerhouse, and that gives him some manoeuvre room many don’t possess. he is a part of the revolution. and he has no clue how much of himself he’s ready to commit to it.

MORE

some stats, which you can find HERE.

some character parallels: jake peralta (b99), albus potter (cursed child), greg serrano (cegf), richie tozier (it), eliot waugh (the magicians), quentin coldwater (the magicians), nick miller (new girl), percy jackson (pjo+hoo), felix dawkins (orphan black), haley dunphy (modern family), eve polastri (killing eve), eleanor shellstrop (the good place)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

ravenclaw friends: i’m assuming mostly from the creative side of the house, rather than the studious one. people who’ve grown up with theo, gone through some of the same challenges of being pulled towards a characteristic of their house that often gets neglected. just creative out-of-the-box nerds pls thanks

ravenclaws that do not like him as much: this is really more of a default house sort of thing. theo doesn’t fit the most general template for ravenclaws lots of times, and in fact, mocks it a lot. gets house points deducted all the time. just not a general fan-fave.

a tutor: or more really. someone his year (or a professor who’s given him the extra time and help) who gave him a hand in some subjects and kept him from truly failing them. he’s a slow learner, a distracted one at that, but he pours all of his loyalty and care into those who help him out along the way. but also makes them want to bang their heads against the wall.

childhood friends: so we’ve got two options here. someone who was also raised, at least partially, in upper flagley. OR one of the pureblood kids around his age that he’d visit with his family. either way, people who knew him before hogwarts and had seen his changes over the years.

borgin and burkes clients and traders: the biggest claim the burke family could make within the DE was always that they have the connections to be good supplies, and so they did. the same applies to theo right now, who uses the knowledge of cursed and dark artifacts he learned at his family’s shop, and the connections they’ve gained throughout the ages, to be of use. his face is a staple there during the summers so many characters would have dealt with the boy.

ex ex ex: theo falls fast, hard, and then crashes and burns everything around him. he’s had many absurdly short-lived relationships in the past, usually ended by his own making. fight him.

ex friends ex friends ex friends: see above. he’s just terrible at human connections wow

orchestra friends: or just musically inclined really. playing was one of the few things he discovered pretty soon he’s great at, so he can often be seen practising, listening with heart eyes to others’ music, or testing out instruments he does NOT know how to play and thus sounds horrible. music pals !!

debate club pals: his tongue is sharp, fast, and accompanied by a wannabe suave personality and an intense need for validation. the only times theo can be seen in the library are doing research for debate topics, and he’s really just invested in perfecting how to talk his way out of things. that, however, leads to more philosophical and introspective conversations than he’d rather have, so lots of room for development all around for characters !! he became the president of the club this year and he is devoting so much of himself and his to it, it’s ridiculous and mentally provoking and i love it

pine trees galore: his this is theo and he falls in love too much. it’s obviously not always a two way street and he’s not ashamed to proclaim to his peers that ‘you see that one over there with the yellow jacket? i will marry him someday’. be the yellow jacket person

ravenclaw 7th year dorm room: who has had to share a bedroom with this idiot for the past 7 years and how tired are they?

duelling partners: he’s not in the official duelling club, as he feels like he has enough on his plate this year, but he’s made tremendous progress in the last year. theo’s been practising more and more, for what he isn’t certain. it started as training to join an extracurricular. then it turned into perhaps a need to protect himself and those he cares about in the upcoming dark times. and maybe it’s a way for him to prove himself within the death eaters and show his worth as their soldier. whatever the reason, he needs people to practise with him so LETS FIGHT

death eaters: this is a bit of a vague one and applies to regular ones and students. theo is a good fighter, but not great. he’s a diplomatic talker, but no expert in mental warfare. he can’t brew the easiest of potions to save his life. however, he’s loyal to a deep fault, especially to the PEOPLE, not the cause. death eaters and their legacies are mostly what he grew up surrounded by, and those he’s navigated towards the last few years. he’s the loyal servant who keeps trying to prove he can be more than that, and the resourceful one who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. sometimes, however, others may doubt his commitment to the cause, or need to shake him up a bit to get hi to loosen his morals. that may cause some connections of friction or suspicion, some of superiority (with him being seen very much as the loyal dog and not an equal in many occasions), and some of protection, both him protecting others (be it from the DE, from their enemies, or them themselves and their own actions) or others protecting him in the face of all the impulsive illogical decisions he makes or his lack of care for the ideology.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Speak No Evil

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

It’s about time! I got so frustrated when I didn’t have time to write this even when I wanted to. And then I got the idea for Inverted and ended up fixated on that for a while, but this AU is back, baby! I did research for this, boys and girls and others! It’s finally Angst Time! God, I never realized I had such potential for pain. Let’s not just hurt JJ, let’s give him all the misery. And it went on for longer than I planned, too.

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post. Also probably worth mentioning this too.

Read the past stories: Stitched Together | The Start of the Nightmare | The Silent Night

>Minor gore warning, probably<

JJ yawned, and looked at the clock. He tried to keep his shop open past midnight every night, in case somebody wanted help with a lunar spell. Those were most effective when conducted at midnight, or at the moon’s zenith. But JJ was not a night owl like Jack or Schneep, and sometimes he just couldn’t stay up that late, especially knowing he had to open at noon the next morning. This was one of those times. The clock read 10:58 and his eyelids were already drooping.

He straightened his posture, stretching. Then, he went through the motions of closing up. Sweeping the floor, dusting the books and talismans on sale, moving the change from the register to the strongbox, turning off most of the yellow lamps, flipping the sign on the front window from “Open” to “Closed.” But before he could go upstairs to his apartment and and his soft, comfortable bed, he had to check the side rooms. There were two: what he called the green room, where he did readings for tourists, and the crimson room, where he kept some of the more useful magick materials...those that he felt safe keeping out in the relative open.

The green room’s entryway was an arch without a door. There was a curtain of beads, but those did nothing except impress the customers that didn’t know anything about magick. A lot of those would pop in, checking out the strange little shop that looked like it belonged in an earlier time period. The green room was sort of catered towards that type, with a bunch of aesthetic junk, most of which did nothing. There was even a crystal ball sitting on top of the table’s fancy cloth, though in his experience flat, reflective surfaces were better for scrying.

JJ rummaged around the room, adjusting the paintings on the walls, checking the chest of drawers to see that everything was in its proper place. It seemed it was...but...JJ frowned. He couldn’t find his cards anywhere. He double-checked everywhere, even peeking underneath the tablecloth. No, they weren’t anywhere.

“Well, that’s a pickle,” JJ muttered to himself. He’d made those cards himself. Imbued them with magick of his own making, in addition to any they might already have. Honestly, the art of the tarot had always struck JJ as a little... unauthentic. It started as a card game, after all. But who knows? He’d learned long ago to never assume anything was ordinary.

Time to check out the crimson room. JJ turned the lamps of the green room off, brushed through the bead curtain, and crossed through the main body of the shop and over to the closed door that led to the crimson room. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small key ring. He selected the larger key of the two and used it to unlock the door. Everything should be in order here, he hadn’t used it all day.

Everything was not in order.

The first thing he noticed was the light. All the lamps in the room were on and blazing. JJ froze. That was impossible. Not only did he keep the only key on his person at all times, not only were there no windows and the vents were too small for anything to fit through, but also the room was protected. There were runes inside the walls and talismans under the floor. Nothing should’ve been able to get in and turn the lights on.

Except it had been breached once before.

JJ shook off the memory. He didn’t like to be reminded of that day. Sure, he’d met Jack and Chase and they’d become his two best friends, but he’d also nearly lost them within an hour of finding them. And that demon...the way he’d barely managed to banish him in time...it had shaken him. He’d doubled the defenses on the crimson room, and on his apartment upstairs, but maybe it still wasn’t strong enough...

He stepped into the room, eyes darting from side to side. The only thing that was different was that his deck of cards was sitting in the middle of the center table. JJ stared at it. There was no way that could’ve gotten here. Was there?

“Who’s here?” JJ called.

The lamps flickered, and JJ jumped as the door behind him slammed shut. He whirled around, pulling desperately on the handle, but the door refused to budge. JJ took a deep breath, trying to calm down. His mind darted between fragments of knowledge he’d learned over years of study. But this was instinctive. He thought he knew who this was. And he knew almost nothing about him.

“So, is it you?” JJ turned back around, putting his hands on his hips. He schooled his features into a carefully neutral expression. “I think you’re the only one who could get into this room at this point. What do you want?”

A few of the lamps flared, then burst with an electric chuckle, leaving the table the only thing truly illuminated. The message was more than clear. JJ folded his arms. “Why don’t you show yourself? I know you can.” Unless...he’d been rather quiet for the last three months, ever since he went after Schneep at the hospital. Maybe he was weakened...? Or he needed time to manifest?

There was no answer. JJ debated just ignoring him. Not acknowledging demons defeated a great deal of them. But he’d already talked to him. Fiddlesticks. Well, might as well go along with this. Who knows what the consequences could be otherwise? And he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was curious. Despite months of research, they hadn’t found much information on him. What if he could learn more? What if he could use that to help his friends?

Cautiously, JJ took a seat at the table. A chair opposite him pulled out, then pushed back in, like someone invisible had just sat there. The deck of tarot cards was pushed towards JJ, who took it, staring at the empty spot where a person should be, and shuffled. He didn’t want any tricks. Then, he held out the cards towards the empty spot. Five cards were pulled out of the deck, then laid on the table like a plus symbol.

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Five-card reading? But are you going to tell me what for?” There was no answer. “General reading it is, then,” JJ muttered. He reached out and turned over the card in the center.

The image of a knight riding into battle upon a black horse. He wielded a scythe, arching over his head. The card’s subtitle read Death. Well, this was off to a fantastic start. “The first card describes your present situation,” JJ said, his voice loud in the silent room. “And it sets the general tone for the reading. Many people see Death as a bad omen, but that’s not the case. It could mean the necessary death of something, such as the harvest in the fall leading to winter, and new plants growing in the spring. But...I’ve never seen Death as the first card. It may mean you’re currently experiencing it, either the death of a project or...” JJ trailed off. It didn’t usually mean the literal death of a person, but in this situation?

He forced himself to turn over the second card. A man carried seven sharp blades. Blood was on their edges, and JJ was sure that hadn’t been there when he drew the picture. “The second card is the past, it shows what events are still influencing you in the present day. This is the Seven of Swords. It represents...deceit.” JJ bit his lip as he thought. “That could mean your life is being shaped by a deception or betrayal that happened long ago. Or maybe not too long ago. Perhaps you know this?” A few more lamps went out, leaving just one above the table. There was a low whine in the air.

JJ hesitated a bit, then turned over the third card. Five crossed sticks, or what appeared to be. “The third card is the future. It explains events that will happen. The Five of Wands symbolizes struggles caused by ambition. In the future spot...it’s a warning. It means you’re pushing your plans at—at the expense of others.” His hands were shaking. The whine was steadily growing louder. “This...this isn’t a reading for you, is it?” JJ whispered. “You’re the querent, but...you don’t need to know these things.” A laugh echoed in the back of his mind.

JJ reached for the fourth card, then stopped. He was starting to have doubts about this. But then the light above flickered, and the whine increased to a piercing volume. JJ winced, then hurriedly turned over the fourth card. Everything stabilized. The card showed a man with brown hair, sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding two blades crossed over his chest. He wore a black blindfold. JJ was sure this card was altered, because he knew his original drawing had been of a woman instead. “The fourth card is the cause of your current situation,” JJ said quietly. “It’s meant to shed light on the event mentioned in the second card. The Two of Swords means conflicting ideas. It can also mean a lack of communication, resulting in...in drastic consequences. Perhaps this led to the deception?”

He didn’t even stop to think this time. Immediately after finishing his analysis of the fourth card, he turned over the fifth. A tall structure rose into the sky of the image. Green lightning was striking it, smoke and rubble flying from the point of impact. Four shadowy figures were falling from the top. It was the Tower. JJ swallowed nervously. “Fifth card...the fifth card is potential. It shows what will happen if you continue on this path. And the Tower...it means disaster. Destructive, uncompromising, collective disaster. It’s approaching. I would...normally, the advice is to just let it happen, and pick up the pieces afterward. But...” JJ looked up. There was an outline of a man, full of buzzing interference, now sitting in the chair across from him. “But this isn’t disaster for you...it’s for us. And it’s what you want. Is that right, Anti?”

The silhouette tilted its head. “Ç̀l̕͏èveŗ̸,” a hissing voice bounced around his mind. “You’re sm͟a̶r͞t̵èr than I t̴h̀o͏u̡ght̨, J̞á̸͕ͅc͈̦̟͎͎̯̠͍̠k҉̧̜͟s̮̦̞͉o̪͈̗̣͈͝͠n̷͔̞̜̙͕͇. But will that s̷̡͝av̧͠e̵̴ y͡ou̴̡?”

“From what?” JJ forced himself to smile. “From you? I got rid of you well enough the last times.”

Anti hummed, annoyed. “ M͡͞á̡͢ybe̢ you did, but that was b̧́͏efor͡e͞͏̸. Now, I k͡n̴ow̷. Did you think Í̸̛ w̨͝a̧͢ş̴ g̛͞o͞͠n̵e͞? I’ve been here the e̛ǹ͢tįr͠e ̕͢ţ̵̕im̵̴͠ȩ. Alwaỳs ther͢e͢. ͞A҉l̶w̕ay̨s͟ ̷w̵at̸c̡h̢i̕n̸g̶.̕ Do you want to know what I s̴̠ͅa̜̼̙̪̪̣͟w̛̩?”

Jameson leaned back. “Is this some roundabout way of threatening to bump me off? Because it’s not working.”

“ O͟͏͢h͢͏͏,͟͠ ͏̶b͏u͠t i̕t̸ i̷̢ş.” Anti stood up. His form was a bit clearer now. Not quite opaque, but JJ could see the colors of his clothes and body. Green lights took the place of his eyes. He leaned forward, and then somehow, though the table should’ve been too big, he was right in Jameson’s face. “False bravado doesn’t suit you, lit̴t̴l̨é o̕͟ń̢e. Not when I can t́a̷̷s̴̀͡t̷e your f͡ęa̷͢r͟͠.” A flash of teeth. “You know the truth I see, don̨'̶t͝ yo͡u͞? Your magick is j͟u̷s͡t ̸́a̧̕ ̸͟li̕e̶. It’s just trying to f̧͡o͞o̧ļ ̧̡̀y̷̵̕o̷u̷r ͝f͝r͏i͡en͟d̨s̸̢ into thinking you’re more helpful than you a̵̜̠̭͉c̡̭̗̯͓͉͖̹t̸̘͓̰̦͠ù̴̫͍̦̪̣̕a͏͈̬̗̖͎͓̤̖l̖̱̜̩̣ḷ̸͔̯̤̗͖̪͔ý̛͔̭̬͠ are.”

“That’s—you’re lying,” Jameson stuttered, pushing his chair back.

“ Abo̵u͞t w̛h̵at͞?” Anti was fully visible now, just the slightest distortion running through his body. His eyes, normally blue, glowed green behind their mask of shadows. “Your magick? Oh, but it doesn’t r̛e҉̨a̧͏l͡l̷̛y͡ do anything, do̡e̴s̷ ̸i͏t? I l̷̤͇ͅe̦͇͇̠̮̤t̸̞͎͍ you win that time. And what are all these so-̶c̵a̛ll̢ed s͝y̵̨͠m̶b̵̨o̶̕l͟͡s͠ of protection doing for you? The room is surrounded, yet h͠͠e̶r͝͝e̕͢ Ì̛ ̡̀a̷͏̢m̕̕, not deterred in the least.” He smiled a twisted grin. “ No͡t́ ̸v͢e̷ry ̵ef̛f́e͢ct͝ive.͏ If only you had r̸e͟a̢l̶̡͢ magic.”

Jameson tried to ignore his words, but in truth each one was a blow to his confidence. He’d set up protection around the homes of his friends...were they actually not working? Had Anti slipped through them as easily as a fish through water? Jack, Chase, and Schneep had trusted him. Had he...failed them?

Not wanting Anti to get another word in, he stood up, knocking over the chair in the process, and bolted to the door. Anti made no move to stop him. There was no need, as Jameson found out when he tried to turn the handle, then, frantically, attacked the door. It would not move. The doctor had described something like this in his hallucination he’d had at the hospital, but that was just that—an illusion of the mind. Anti must be stronger now, to affect reality in such a manner.

Jameson spun around, pressing his back to the door. Maybe he could find a way to get Anti out, if he was able to get to his supplies—and if it even worked. He doubted it.

“Well, we ca̴n't h̢ave tha̷t,” Anti said, as if he knew what Jameson’s thought process was. “C̶o̸̡me̷ b͏àc̡ḱ̢ ̷h̷͢e̴͟r̛ȩ̵̷.” A breaking happened, a distortion as the world broke into shades of red, blue, and green. And then Anti was there, in front of him. Jameson shrieked, instinctively trying to push him away. Instead, Anti grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him forward. Jameson fell into him, like the glitch truly wasn’t anything more than pixels. The buzz of white noise surrounded him. It filled his mind. He closed his eyes against the harsh static, and when he opened them, Anti had disappeared.

He would’ve relaxed a bit, but he could still hear the harsh drone. Not with his ears, like he should’ve. It was inside him. He could feel it in his eyes and in his throat. Of its own accord, his body walked back over to the table and sat down in the same chair Anti had been sitting in during the reading. And there it stayed, posture stiff, hands placed firmly by his sides. The white noise lessened a bit, and Anti appeared once again, distorted and crackling. He tilted his head. “Ỳe͞s̵, that seems to have worked as͟ ͠we͏l͝l̴ as I t̵h̨o͠ug̶ht͟ ̷it wòu͟l̷d͝.”

“What did you do?” Jameson was surprised to find his mouth still worked, even if nothing else did.

“I call it p̱̲͞u̴̜̥͉̙̦͍̰͞p̰p̵̫̼̪͕̻͍̠̩e̷͉̝͓̫͓͠t̲̝̩ͅe̢͎̭̞̘̗͈͟ͅe͎̙̻̻̻̼̲̣ͅr̳̘̲i̷̟̤͉̥͢n̖̘̖͝g͍̬̮,” Anti said, wiggling his fingers like a sideshow magician. “It’s a tr̶ic͡k of mine I’ve been using since Halloween. If I keep working on it, o͝ne͠ d̕ay ̢you'̧l͠l ̵s͠tarţ t́o͞ ́ l͏̢í̵̧k̵҉e̷͡ i̶t͠.”

“Never,” Jameson said through gritted teeth.

“ Th҉at'͢s͏ ̨no͡t for̸ yo̕u t͡o de̸ciḑe,” Anti growled. “Now where was I? Ah yes, your ùse̕l͟es̶snes͢s.” He grabbed Jameson by the chin, tilting his head up so he had to look the glitch in the eyes. “You’re just a re͝p̷l̕a͞cem͏ent͡, J̛a͏̷̧c̢k͝s̸̛o̵̸͠n. They lost their magician, and so they got a ǹew̵ ͠ơn̵e. And, given your decoration in here, you would agree with me when I say the new is n̴̸͟e̷ve̡͠r̨ as g͡o̸o͢d as t͏h̕e̡̨͟ ̷o̷l͞d̵͞.”

“That’s your fault,” Jameson gasped. “It’s your fault their magician disappeared. Their hero, too. What happened to them? What are you doing to Marvin and Jackie?”

Anti laughed, blood spurting from his neck wound. “Oh, íf̷ ͝o͞nl̨y̷ y̢o̸u ̛́̕k̀n̛é͟w̢. I wonder if you’d wish they r̨ȩa҉ll͞y die̢d. Or maybe you’re happy here. Happy your wor͟t͠h̴lèss ͠litt͠l̀e͠ head gets praise h̢e̡a̴pęd upon it that it doèsń't ҉de̶s̸e͡r̢ve.” Anti’s form flickered and glitched. He grimaced. “Seems I’m running out of time. Guess I’ll...s̵k͟͡i̴̴p̀̕ ̕t̛͢͞o ̡̧́t̨h̸e ͏cha̡̧se͟.”

“What are you doing?” Anxiety was evident in Jameson’s voice. He tried to push through the static clouding his mind and holding him in place, but to no avail. It was like pushing against a balloon with super thick skin. Every attempt bounced him away.

“Now that won’t be a̛͞n͠y ̷̢f̧͞ú̢ǹ̢.” Anti leaned over him, the blood from his throat dripping down onto Jameson’s face. He couldn’t even blink like his instincts were shouting at him to. “Especially when you’re a͠b͢o͝ut͏ ̕tǫ f͡ìn̡ḑ͏͟ ͝o̧͞ú̢̕t.” He tilted Jameson’s head even farther back. Something small and gleaming glitched into his hand. “ Wh̕y̴ don’t you c̵a͏l͡l f̡or h͢e͢l͠p, J̡͢a̵͟͠m͏̡ie?”

He wanted to. He really wanted to. But he couldn’t give the demon the satisfaction. He gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

“Come on...” Anti’s fingernails dug into Jameson’s skin. It felt like they were drawing blood. “It’s ńo̷̡͠ţ to͝ó̶̕ ̛hard̸, is it? Call for help, I̡ ̢da̧͡r̴͞͡e ̛͝yo͢͟͢u. Cry into the dar͢k̕ǹes͝s͢. ‘Jack! Chase! Henrik! Somebody help!’ S̡ee̸ ̡w͡h̸a̛t̵ g̸͕͓͇̣̤̘̩o͏̹̗̪̹̞̀o̸̶̦̯̣d̸͖͕̫͍͇͖ͅ it ͝do̸es͟ ̷ýou͝!”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to. “H-help,” he whimpered.

There was a moment of quiet. The electronic hum started filling the air again. Anti smiled with unrestrained delight. “ B͞u̢͞ţ ̨́͢no͠͝bo̵̴d̸͞ý́ ͏çá̴͡m͞͏e͞��̨,” he whispered. “What a s̵h̕a͠m̴̨è. I’m sure the ot̶her͡s̛ would l͡o̡̕͟v͏̡e̢ to see this.”

The static in Jameson’s mind increased, and a pressure grew in his throat. He tried to cry out, but his voice wouldn’t work anymore. Anti moved his hand, and the small, glinting object he held came into view. It was a needle. A simple sewing needle, threaded with green string. And Jameson knew what was going to happen. He wanted to scream, he wanted to beg, but he could do nothing.

The first pinprick didn’t hurt too much. But the sensation of something that wasn’t supposed to be there, of it being pulled through the hole made his skin crawl. And the next one was much the same. And the next. The strings tightened with each new puncture. Tears began flowing down his face. Anti seemed to enjoy that. He muttered constantly throughout the process, reminding him how he couldn’t do anything, how he was worthless, how his friends didn’t really care for him. Every word drove deeper through the static in his mind.

He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually Anti tied a knot to hold the string in place, then broke the rest of the thread off. He moved Jameson’s head side to side, admiring his work. He grinned. “ Let'̢s ̸s͡ęe͟ ͏w͞h̶a҉t̛ th̕ey̛ ̨t̀hink̛ ͏of͡ t̷̢͓͈͠h̴̪̮á̶̰̻͢ͅt,” he said, tapping the oozing piercings with his finger, stroking the string. There was a lot more blood than there should have been. He loved it. “Go sh̕òẃ̸ them your n͟͠é̸w á́c͟͡ç̢e̷͝ss̛o̶͠ry̨.”

The static overwhelmed him, and the world broke apart. Anti faded away, the last thing to go being his glowing green eyes. 

The world fixed itself, and Jameson found himself kneeling on the floor in a hall somewhere. It looked...medicinal, like a hospital. It wasn’t long before he realized that the static had disappeared. He could move again. Immediately, his hands flew to his mouth, clawing at the thread. It teared at his flesh, blood running down his chin. It was agonizing. It didn’t matter. He needed them out. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? Why couldn’t he get them out? He had to keep trying. He couldn’t—he couldn’t—

“Jameson?”

He clasped his hands over his mouth. No, no he couldn’t let—how could he explain? He looked over his shoulder towards the familiar voice. It was the doctor, dressed in his coat and scrubs. Of course, this was a hospital. Schneep stared at Jameson. “What are you—?” Then he saw the blood dripping from between his fingers. Schneep’s eyes widened, and he squeaked. For a moment he looked like he wanted to run away, but instead he ran forward, kneeling beside Jameson. “What is it?! What happened?! Was it him?! Here, let me see.”

Jameson didn’t answer, just pressed his face even harder into his hands. When the doctor tried to pry them away so he could look at where the blood was coming from, he shook his head. Schneep looked at him, a strange light in his eyes. “Please. I cannot help if I don’t know what the problem is. Let me see, my friend.”

It was something about those last two words, coming from Schneep, the one he knew the least about, that made Jameson relax, and let the doctor take his hands away. Upon seeing the mess of blood and string, Schneep froze. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Silver tears lined his eyes. Then, without warning, he pulled Jameson into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” he repeated the same words again and again, like saying them could change what had happened.

Jameson only let himself be held, and shed a few more silent tears.

It was a chill night. Or was it early morning? It had been close to midnight when Schneep last checked the clock, but after JJ had appeared he hadn’t had the time to look. He’d been on the way to his office, ready to gather his things and go home for the night, only to turn the corner and see Jameson kneeling on the floor, blood coming from his mouth. He immediately dropped everything, dragging him to the nearest operating room.

And now, Schneep was outside on his apartment balcony, pacing back and forth. It was cold, but he didn’t care. He had to think.

“Hey, doc.”

Schneep turned and saw Chase walk out onto the balcony, closing the sliding door behind him. His eyes were rimmed with red. “Hello Chase,” Schneep said dully. “Is Jack still inside?”

Chase nodded. “Yeah, he’s still talking with JJ...or, uh, talking to.” He leaned against the closed door. “He took one of your notebooks and pens. But...JJ isn’t using it.”

Jameson had been quiet. Not that he had a choice anymore, but he hadn’t attempted to communicate in any way. He didn’t nod or shake his head when asked yes or no questions, and he avoided eye contact with any of the others. If he did happen to catch their eyes, he teared up and looked away. Yet, he didn’t want to be alone either. He reached out and clung tight to them when they looked like they might leave.

The one question he answered? When Schneep asked if Anti was responsible, he nodded vigorously.

“Maybe he is not ready yet,” Schneep sighed. “I would not blame him.”

Chase moved position, now leaning on the balcony railing. Schneep stopped his pacing and joined him. Chase hesitated for a moment, then asked “Are you sure you can’t—”

“I tried, Chase,” Schneep snapped. “I broke my best pair of scissors and dulled half the supply of scalpels in the hospital. It is not normal string like it appears.”

“Okay, doc, calm down. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it that way.” Chase’s voice broke. “You’re doing—you did all you can, I get it. I’m just...it’s fucking horrible, man. I can’t believe...I thought shit like this only happened in horror movies.” He gazed out over the quiet city. “I can’t even find a reason,” he whispered.

“Anti does not need a reason,” Schneep said through gritted teeth. “He is a monster.” His grip on the railing tightened. “And the world would be better off without monsters.” Why Jameson, of all people? He was harmless. Maybe that was why. Schneep turned, looking straight at Chase. “If we ever find a way, if we ever get a chance, I am going to kill him.”

Chase considered this. “What about Jackie and Marvin? Only he knows what’s happening to them. We need to get them back, doc. We can’t kill him until we do.”

Schneep paused. “I suppose you are right. Although I wonder...” He turned away again, looking back out over the dark city. “If Anti is capable of something like this, then...if we get them back, what shape will they be in?”

Chase had no answer for that. So the two of them stood in silence, watching the darkness of night gradually recede. If only all the darkness of the world would disappear so easily.