#(the pieces in front of her ears are wrapped like the master sword grip also)

[apocalypsewriters]

Control

Summary: The world finds out about Victor-Hecate's relatively tame powers, and things go wrong when they discover a much more destructive side of their formerly self harming powers

Warnings: pain. Like lots of pain, unconsciousness, mentions of death (of course, it's Vee), and let me know if there's anything I missed

A/N: Consider this my triumphant and apologetic return. I come back from weeks of catching up with work and hours of exams bearing gifts of angst. Watch out for more rambling apologies in the tags. Also, the dialogue is a little clunky since this is my first short story based on a song (Control, by Halsey) and I tried to incorporate some lyrics. Not entirely happy with it, but here is this melting pile of angst and not so happy endings

The worst thing happened. Their greatest fear came true. The world found out about their powers. They were pursued everywhere they went - they were called a freak, demon, death personified. People shied away from them, afraid of what they could do to them. Rumors flew, blowing their relatively harmless powers out of proportion. They pushed away everyone who cared about them; their fears being articulated by the masses was too much. They spent night after night, day after day locked in their room, trapped in their emotions. Finally, their mom had enough - she sent them out for a walk, to clear their head, to get a breath of fresh air. She worried about them. Their hair was limp and gathered in clumps - they’d been pulling at it. Their pallor was even worse than before, grey and washed out.

Walking in the young morning light, they found some sort of peace. They were numb in the crisp air, walking robotically along paths they’d taken months before with their friends, their partner. A tear traced down their face, wiped away before it landed on their shirt collar. Suddenly, someone grabbed their hand. Phantom bullets riddled their torso, and they wheeled around, squeezing the wrist of the stranger. Surely he recognised them, going out of his way to ensure skin to skin contact. Animosity twisted his face as he loomed over them, wilting where they stood, lightheaded in pain. Rage turned the invisible holes in their chest to pinpricks of pain. For the first time, they wrenched control of their power, turning it against the inflictor. His sneer snapped off his face, replaced with agony. He collapsed onto the path, clutching his chest, feeling the pain they did moments before. They stood over him for a few moments, holding his hand aloft, relishing in the panic, the ache that someone else felt instead of them.

“Please.”

The single word choked out, pitiful, but it was enough. They dropped his wrist, appalled with themself. What had they done? Everyone was right to be afraid of them. They stepped back, tripping over an unseen root. Gravel ripped their palms raw, but the stinging was unnoticed as they scrambled up. Tears blurring their vision, they raced home. They were right, they were right. Everyone was right.

“Tae?”

Their mother’s voice broke through their haze halfway up the stairs. They halted in their progress, taking a heaving breath before turning around and cocking their head.

“Are you okay?”

They nodded, afraid of letting out a sound, lest the truth spill out. Satisfied but skeptical with their response, their mother turned away, leaving them to face their demons. Quietly, they shut their door. The doors of their closet slid open, hiding the mirror on one of the panels. A leotard was laid on the bed. It had never been touched before; it was white with silky material cutting off at their knees and elbows, too much skin exposed for them to be comfortable. They slipped into the one-piece, binding their feet with gymnastics wraps. The window opened. The roof tiles whispered as they slid down them. Creaking, the gutter bent under their weight as they dropped to the ground, quiet as a cat.

They had to leave. Authorities would have heard about what they’d done by now. How could they face their family after they found out what they’d done?

Red and blue flashed behind them. Feet pounding, air rushing, arms pumping, they fought to outrun the pursuing vehicles. They couldn't get caught, they knew what happened to vigilantes and elementals that endangered the general public.

A calloused hand found the middle of their back, the only hole in the suit. An invisible blade sliced their thigh, making them falter in their relentless pace. They whipped around, placing a hand on the uniformed woman’s scarred arm. She fell to the floor, limp from the surge of pain. Freed from the agony again, they turned and ran. Guiltily, they relished in the euphoria of finally mastering their power. It would never control them again.

~

“Victor-Hecate, stop it. Get back here!” Tora’s voice rang out from across the road, 70 feet above the public. She hovered on the roof of the building, surrounded by her friends.

Violetta echoed her sentiment, “You’re better than this. Come back to us.”

The white-clad figure smirked cruelly down on them, perched on the top of a parking garage. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” They got to their feet, graceful and lithe. Taking eight steps backward, they set off at a run. Launching themself off the edge, they flew towards the group. The wind whistled past their ears. Closing their eyes, they relished in the bliss of free falling. With a sickening crunch, they landed on the apartment block, most likely having broken their feet. They felt nothing. Rising to stand before their once chosen family, their mouth twisted into a cruel imitation of a sad smile. Carefully stepping forward, their insides roiled as the group skittered away. “You see? You’re afraid.” Bella’s eyes went cold, darting around the group, assessing the layout of the roof. Nyx moved in front of Juni, expression steely as her girlfriend’s visage was etched with determination. Lynn’s mouth quivered as her hands lit up with icy blue light. Zach was the most controlled, standing stoically, one hand on a sheathed sword at his waist. His shirt partially concealed the tell-tale bulge of a gun. Shoulder to shoulder, with matching tense expressions, Aster and Violetta stood, united as a single front. Tora hovered at the front of the group, choppily cut hair whipping around her face, her arms sparking with barely restrained power.

Moving forward again, they placed a hand on Lynn’s shoulder, a finger brushing her neck. Stifling a panicked gasp that came as the air whooshed out of their lungs, they watched her crumple to the ground, unable to bear even a fraction of the pain from their broken feet. The group tensed, shifting forward, not daring to strike the image of the one they perceived to be their lost friend. Expression turning tender, they shot an apologetic look at Lynn. Was it sincere? They didn’t know anymore. A tiny part of them hoped it was. Gliding forward to stand in front of Tora, they gazed into her intense expression, admiring her courage. Taking her hand, they squeezed it gently. She drifted to the floor, her eyes softening, somehow believing their guise of peace. Their insides twisted, torn between guilt and triumph. Should they follow through? Follow through with which path. Stilling their stormy insides, enjoying the emptiness for one more moment, they decided. They crushed her hand, turning the tide of numbness against their once beloved. Tora crumpled to the ground, comatose.

"Stop it! You're scaring her!" Nyx's voice thundered, commanding as Juni's hand was white-nuckled in her comforting grip.

Letting out a manic laugh, they cried out, “I can’t help it! This power, this energy is me. However awful it is, this is me now.” Watching the hope wink out in most of their eyes, they snarled, desperate, conflicted, "Damn right, you should be scared of me!”

Gaze fixing on the only one who still stood tall, they watched Bella raise a hand. Cool metal suddenly pressed against their neck as an unusually messy mop of near-black hair peeked out from behind a fan. Her gaze grew distant, robotic. Blue sparks flew across Victor-Hecate’s view of the roof as she spoke coolly “There is no need for fear when something is tame. Who is in control?” Her piercing gaze shattered their toxic thoughts. Unsure and stunned, their legs gave out, and they fell to the floor. Black slid inward from the corners of their eyes, like curtains closing a show, as the last of their consciousness slipped from their grasp.

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 35

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

-/

At some point, the whispers began. At first, they were just echoes of sound, not words, that seemed to bubble up behind them. They'd jump and turn their guns in a strange direction, startling each other, then laugh it off, try to calm themselves and press on, into the darkness.

And then the whispers started speaking to them.

Lilith doesn't know when the raspy shucks and shahs echoing off the became words that only she can hear. And she doesn't know when she started screaming into the darkness for them to stop, arguing against them - So what if she's not entirely organic? She's just as human!

She only realizes it when the Hunter grabs her hands to prevent her from harming herself, from scratching at the plating where her ears would be if they weren't sensors and - She really was human once, right? Wasn't she? - as she locks onto the blood dripping from under Morgana's helm, over the collar of her Hunter cloak that something is changing. Something is wrong.

"Don't listen," Morgana tells them both. Lilith can feel their entwined hands shaking, and the Hunter grips her harder. “Get a hold of yourselves.”

The Titan takes his helmet off, gasping. Lilith barely remembers him telling them his name is Alberto, but his friends call him Bertie. He has dark skin, her mind stutters, thinking of something besides the Hive. It reminds her of copper and bronze, like the metal that she…  She tries not to think of herself as a computer that can be reprogrammed like the voices have started telling her. Instead, she focuses on his face. His ears are bleeding. "Are yours-"

"Yes,” Morgana interrupts breathlessly, grunting. “We have to keep ourselves together. Deep breaths. Everyone with me?”

“I-”

“Nizana, did you get anything out of Miyu?”

The Warlock’s Ghost flickers between the trio like a flash-bang, dimming her optic so she doesn’t cast too much light. Lilith continues holding one of Morgana’s hands. Her grip is warm. The Hunter wraps her newly freed hand around Bertie’s wrist. “It let me send a message,” The petite bot says. “I confirmed receipt, but it hasn’t been read yet. She must be occupied with things. Usually her Ghost usually reads them immediately.”

“She must still be in the Ascendant Plane then! When she opens it it-”

“I’ll let you know straight away.”

-/

Her sword slices through everything like it’s cutting through butter, like the hard bony plating of the remaining Fatesmiths are softer than the worms that grant life within them. They howl as they fall, burning to dust. The Wizard watches her. Savathûn’s daughter.

The Eternal Return.

Miyu turns her eyes toward her, her toes barely touching the ground. It isn’t necessary. Her Light burns brighter than ever before. She holds out one perfect, burning, ethereal sword of Daybreak. “You’re next,” The Warlock tells her, willing her voice to stay even. She refuses to grow manic with power, just because she calls upon the flames and they feel right for the first time in she can’t remember how long.

Dûl Incaru calls upon her forces. Taken Thrall, Acolytes, Knights spawn.

They come too close to the fiery Warlock, and they turn to ash, burning away almost as fast as they spawn. The Wizard laughs, a high pitched cackle. She waits it out. The aura of Solar Light will eventually fade. She prepares to throw lofty blasts of Darkness at the Awoken Lightbearer when it does.

Miyu does not wait, though. She comes in close, she does not hang back like she had before. “You are my last obstacle,” She tells the Hive witch through gritted teeth.

Beside her, one of the Fatesmiths rise again. Her enemy’s massive shield regenerates.

The Warlock closes her eyes. The Light within her feels limitless. Her heart, her mind, her soul, it all feels like she could soar. She twists in a lightning-quick movement, and splits Ba-Kuur in half. He’s ashes in the wind once more. Eyes that shine like twin moons narrow in deadly intent. “Your turn,” Miyu says. “Do us all a favor and stay dead.”

The Witch Queen’s daughter does not like that.

She casts jets of chilling Darkness at her opponent, but her opponent does not seem phased.She weaves around the blows, and when Dûl Incaru lands a hit, she does not seem phased. Instead, she tips her sword and twists into the next volley and when she’s cut through that, she aims for the Wizard’s head.

Gaurog rises in the nick of time and sends her flying into a pillar.

She bounces back, fire and flesh made new. She plunges the Daybreak sword into the ground at the Wizard’s feet. Gaurog comes to his master’s aid, and Miyu holds out a hand and lets the fire consume.

It was less annoying when it was three of them, the Wizard thinks, those furious white eyes turn back to her. The Lightbearer glows yellow instead of orange - a different flame, though not any less uncomfortably warm. The Worm inside her constricts and she bites back the scream as it - and she - are destroyed from within by the Light they seek to claim, to destroy, to use to open the gateway.

Next time, The Witch Queen’s daughter thinks as she dies another death. Or the eternity of next times after that. The Curse on this place will again return. Eventually, the Distributary will be theirs.

-/

“Let me see, let me see, let me see!” Tamashii whirls around her frantic and concerned, phasing from side to side as she tries to follow him with her gaze. “Are you ok?” He scans her with a beam.

She nods, silent.

He makes a sound like a sigh. “Don’t you ever do that again!” He thunks into her chest hard. She brings her hands up, cupping him gently against her abdomen. “Letting go. What were you thinking?”

“It was a metaphor?”

“A metaphor? You could have died!”

Miyu laughs, giddy with adrenaline. “Sometimes you have to take a risk?”

Tamashii sighs. “Next thing I know you’ll be spinning a hand cannon and calling yourself a Hunter.”

“Never!” His partner sounds offended. She curls her lip as she peels back her Gauntlets, holds up her hands, flipping them side to side so he can see. “Also, see, I’m fine.”

“Yu-mi… Miyu. You cast… That was the whole - you used the wings, threw the swords - a LOT of swords…” He trails off. “Is this-”

Miyu nods. “I did what I said we were going to do.” She looks at the dingy, grey-tinged halls. “The Speaker - in my vision, he was right. The Light was there, when I was ready to stop being afraid.”

“It’s one thing in the moment,” Tamashii counters. “But now?” How do you feel?”

“Better. More… comfortable.” She smiles fondly. “Ready to go home.”

Tamashii lets her bring him up to eye level, her fingertips warm and gentle against the rounded fins of his shell. “I’m sorry about your sword,” He says. And he means it. About her helm and cannon, too.

“It did what it was meant to do.” A great, blackish blue, starlit expanse opens up in front of them. Their way home. It’s finally, finally over. And they’re both in one piece. "Anyway, Zavala thought it was more political than actual kindness." She shrugs. "And I do have other swords."

"You do," Tamashii agrees. She hums, still gently stroking his fins.  "Oh!" He demats from her grasp, as if something's finally gotten through to him. "There's - We got a message."

She straightens. "From who?

"Lilith. Wait,” He says. "This doesn't make sense."

"What?"

"We shouldn't be receiving anything while we're here. I've only seen our comms work when all parties are on one plane or the other."

"That's not possible. She said she was going to do strikes for the Vanguard. She left days ago." Miyu frowns.

"It's-" Tamashii stalls. "They were in the Archology. Her Ghost said they fell through the lower levels, then there was a portal, and-"

His Guardian gets the idea. "Can we get to her from here?"

"I don't think that's how this plane works. We're in a throne world… I think we should inform the Vanguard. If they send in more Guardians, they need to know what's going on."

"Okay," She agrees. "Send them a message and let them know we're coming." He falls silent, but confirms when the message has been sent through the phantasmal space of the dark-infused plane.

They leap through the portal. Miyu's focus isn't on Petra Venj, the Queen's Wrath who is studying her with great scrutiny.

"So?" She inquires tersely, demanding the other Awoken’s attention.

The Warlock straightens, turns her white eyes to meet Petra’s sky blue gaze."It was more of the same. I defeated-"

"Guardian?!"

Miyu stops mid-sentence, turning back to Tamashii.

His body shifts uncomfortably. "I just got another transmission from Nizana. It's an audio file. It's… kind of," He processes, "Hard to make out." The Warlock can feel Petra's brilliant eyes burning holes in the back of her head, she's starting at Miyu. "Sounds like combat. And - wait, this doesn’t sound right..." He wilts, "It ends in screaming."

"Is the timestamp-"

"Recent. In the last twenty minutes."

"Pull the ship from orbit. We can't waste time."

Tamashii flickers away. The Queen’s Wrath coughs.

"They took Sedia again,” Petra informs her, “Roughly forty-five minutes ago. I had hardly taken my eyes off her for an instant."

Miyu's look down. She sighs. "Sedia understands her duty. I'm sorry that my efforts did not help change things."

"The Curse has been repelled. It's as much as we can hope for, for now." Petra shifts her weight to her other hip. Her visage hardly softens but it's obvious she's trying to be considerate. "She had informed me that this was to be your last cycle."

"Yes."

She nods. "I won't keep you, then. Things are right back where they started from." The woman shakes her head, remembering herself and the required diplomacy of her position. "Anyway. We're grateful for your help," The Queen's Wrath offers. "Light go with you, Warlock."

Miyu speaks, her bell-chime voice both soft and proud. She looks Petra in the eye as she nods. "Queen's blessing, Cousin."

Unlike when she'd come here, on a wing and a prayer, full of doubt, she leaves the Dreaming City with purpose. There is no second guessing or doubt, no indecision. What she sought, she'd found. She does not look back.

[storiesabouthumanandthings]

Punk Rock Princess

Ch 4

Misha walked to her shop in the early morning. The town was just starting to move. The smell of embers, fresh bakes, and fried meats wafted up and down the streets. Shop owners were still setting up products, birds chirping and roosters crowing, people shouting hellos and good morning to one another. Misha mumbled her replies back, waving her way through town. She despised mornings but also knew she had to get to the shop every morning. The only fun she had walking to work is seeing who from the night before was sneaking through town before they were caught. No matter how sneaky they thought they were, taking back alleys or trying to confidently walk through the crowd, Misha could always tell who was walking with shame after a night of fun.

She arrived to her shop greeted by the sound of hammer on steel. She rolled her head back in exhaustion. It was too loud too early. She enjoyed the silence of her morning shop, setting fires for the day. But obviously others had other plans. She pulled a chair out of the shop and sat out front to get away from the noise. She grabbed a neighbor child as he ran by playing, “Hey, if you want, I have a task for you. And I will pay you for it.” The child eagerly nodded. “Ervin, I need a drink to wake me up. Please run to the shop to get me a drink,” She placed a few coins in his hands, “this should be enough. Bring it back to me and you get the change,” Holding another coin up in front of his hands, “and make it quick and you’ll get another coin.” Ervin nodded so hard, Misha thought his head was going to topple him over. He ran down the street.

Misha closed her eyes and listened to the street sounds. Mostly it was just Olivia’s rhythmic pounding, pauses to reheat the steel and stoke the fire. Other kids ran around playing in the street, kicking rocks and playing tag games. The shopkeepers were now selling their goods, calling people on the street. Being next to the castle, she could hear the marching and clanking steel of the guards for the morning switches. A soft poke made Misha open her eye. Ervin had returned out of breath. He had a container with him. He handed it over. She opened the lid and steam slow rose out. She took a deep breath and hummed please with it. 

“Did I do good?” Ervin asked between breaths. 

Misha took a small sip, “No, you did WELL. Remember your grammar.”

Ervin nodded, “So does that mean I get the extra coin?” 

Misha pretended to be shocked, “Extra coin? I already gave you a coin.” 

Ervin tilted his head, confused, “No, Misha. You only gave me the coins for the drink.”

Misha teasing him, “Yes I did. Its right here.” She reached past his head, with an open hand, she pulled back with a coin in her hand, “It was just behind your ear.” Ervin took the coin back and ran to the other kids.

Olivia was now behind Misha giggling, “I remember when you did that to me at his size.” 

Misha looked up, “Well, Oliver, if you wanted the coin, you should have had warm drink waiting for me.” Misha closed her eyes again, taking in a deep drink, feeling the warmth flow through her. She let out a big satisfied sigh. Misha called into the shop after Olivia, “and what are you doing here so early? Did you sneak back in after I left?” 

Olivia was sanding off the rough edges and shaping the grip for the handle to be added on. “No, I just couldn’t sleep and when I saw the Sun on the rise, I figured I should as well.” Misha shook her head and stayed out front. Now that she was a bit more awake she enjoyed the calm morning, watching people bustle by, children using sticks as swords, birds picking for seeds and bugs.

The sun rose a bit more, nearing to midday, when Olivia came back out with a knife, two pieces of hard wood for the handle, and a leather sheath for the completed knife. Misha took the knife. She inspected all aspects of it closely. She stood up and walked a few steps out before turning around. 

Misha threw the knife at the shop, sticking the blade into the wall next to Olivia, “What the hell, Misha? You could have killed me!” 

Misha laughed and shook her finger, “Don’t speak to me like that, Oliver,” pulling the knife out of the wall, “and I would only have hit you if your knife had errors that I couldn’t see, so it would still have been your fault.” 

Olivia was trying to stay angry but couldn’t, “So it is a good knife?” 

Misha shrugged, trying to not inflate Olivia’s ego, “A nice start, Oli. Now hurry up and finish it and we will deliver.” Olivia nodded and went back into the shop. Misha could hear a squeal of excitement before the hammering began.

A short time after midday, Olivia returned to the front of the shop with a newly finished knife in the sheath hanging from her waist. Misha inspected it again to make sure the pins where holding the handle properly, no gaps in between the wood and steel. Misha thought to herself that the Innkeeper was getting a steal on the blade. Her final look found Olivia’s touch-mark. It was the letter C with a small P! inside the C. 

Misha, without raising her head, looked at Olivia, “Subtleties are not your strong suit, Cursed Princess.” 

“Custom Pair!” Olivia yelled over Misha. 

Misha shook her head and let out a small laugh, “Sure it is.” Misha slide the knife back into the sheath and walked to the Inn.

Misha strolled into the Inn and up to the bar. The Innkeeper’s daughter was running the bar. Misha tossed down a coin, “A pint please, and tell your father his new blade is here.” The daughter nodded, quickly poured a drink and ran upstairs, Misha watching her as she ran along. 

The innkeeper came down with glasses on, “You caught me as I was counting. Now you come to give me another bill.” 

Misha laughed, “A bill you asked for.” 

Misha shook the Innkeepers hand tight. “You know it’s not fair that you keep your daughter working in the morning when I work. I have to come in at night and look at your wrinkled face when I want a drink.” 

The daughter blushed bright behind the Innkeeper. “That is why I keep her working in the morning, to keep her from un-savories like yourself,” he shot back, “now have you come to just stress me or for business?” 

Misha laughed and wrapped an arm around him, “I always have time for both, but for now business,” nodding to Olivia. 

She untied the sheath from her belt and handed it to him. He unsheathed the blade and inspected it, “That’s a mighty large knife for cooking with, isn’t it young lad?” 

Olivia looked to Misha for help but Misha just waved at Olivia to continue, “Um, Yes, Sir. Your assistant, he mentioned you needed a good cooking knife but also once for defense in case of bad customers.” 

The keeper interjected, “Like your master here, eyeing things she shouldn’t.” Misha laughed and gave him the finger. She went and sat back at the bar next to the daughter. 

Olivia continued, “Well, being given this description, I made sure the blade had a common cooking curve, slightly heavy front weighted to help cut through, but longer than normal so it can look just as intimidating as any other knife.” 

The Keeper nodded. “Good, good. Now I expect you wish to be paid, Oliver?” 

“Yes sir.” 

The Keeper paused for a bit, inspecting the knife, “I am not paying extra for the fine work you did. I know Misha would never say, but this is a truly well-crafted knife,” he tossed a small bag of coins to Olivia, “now just don’t give your pay to Misha. That is your money, young man.” 

Olivia bowed and looked to Misha. Misha laughed at her, “So formal this one.” 

The keeper nodded, “So well mannered, definitely didn’t get that from you.” 

Misha, now teased the keeper, “Go back to the shop Oliver, while I stay with the beautiful bar maiden and her ugly father.” 

The innkeeper laughed, “Remember I do have a new knife now.” Misha laughed and stayed. Olivia rushed back to the shop, running with excitement. She stayed until the sun lowered. She closed the shop for Misha who never came back. She left the bag of coins in the safe for Misha. ‘Probably with the bar maiden,’ Olivia thought to herself before sneaking back into the castle.

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[rofics]

You could be my serenity

Fandom: BTS Pairing:  Jungkook x Jimin Genre: smut, fluff and angst Au: Medieval AU (Knights, Magic… stuff like that) Length: 5k

Summary:

Shang apprentice Jungkook has been sent to the royal court after an agreement with the crown. The problem is that Jungkook has a lot of secrets he can’t let out, and while he has hidden them for many many years. A young squire by the name of Jimin might unlock them… And Jungkook’s long away locked away heart.

“Do you understand these rules?” Lord Wyldon asked, looking over the desk that he was sitting behind.

In front of him were two people, a young man and a boy ready to bloom into manhood both dressed in the traditional travelling gear of Shang-warriors. Closest to the door was the man standing in his late 20’s, he was wearing black trousers with leather shin protectors, which were also coloured to night colours. His black shirt was almost skin tight but still allowed him free movement. Moreover, on his well-toned arms there were black leather armour pieces to match the ones on his shins, and leading up his body to the ones covering most of his front shoulders. Many people would not care to look at the man twice, but if you looked closely, you would notice the thin silver band that was snaking around his upper arm showing that he was a high-ranking Shang warrior with the immortal status.

He was wearing tan which hinted that his origins was not of Tortallian decent, rather it was speaking more of the Yamani jungle area. His brown short cut hair was still damp, from the bath he must have taken when they arrived only an hour before from the Shang camp.

Beside the Shang-Warrior was the sharp looking male who looked to be around his 17th years. His clothing was matching the older Shang-Warrior with the difference that his upper arm instead had a thin grey strip, marking him as a student of Shang. However, despite of his lowly student ranking, his deep brown eyes were hard and weary just like the other males. If you compared their outward appearance otherwise, they could not be more different. Where the man was of a standard height, maybe even a little on the short side of things, still full of muscles and strength. The boy was tall; his build reminded more of that of a cat. Even if his arms shown some strength there was no way he would be able to wield the long double-handed sword that was resting on the man’s back, instead he had two short bladed swords strapped to his back, and at his thighs 10 very small throwing daggers, easy to reach should he ever need them

Another difference the warriors had were their hair; where the man was short haired the boys was grown out and slightly shaggy few pieces covering those dark coffee eyes. It was almost black showing that he didn’t have an origin in Tortall either, he had a tan not naturally pale like most tortallian, but also showing of many hours of working in direct sunlight, but nowhere near the same as the man beside him.

He would have been pretty to look at and would have fit well into the court of Tortall, had it not been for the thin silver scar running down his left cheek, and with the multiple small scars around both his wrists and hands. This added with the cold look in his eyes, made it easier to believe that he was member of the Court of the rogue after all he was just a little bit younger than Taehyung the King of Thieves.

He looked at him, like he was awaiting permission to answer the training master, permission he got by a small nod. “I understand the rules Lord Wyldon, and I can assure you I have no interest in any of the females nor males here.” He made a half-deep bow with his head, as if showing he respected his rules. “I promise by Mithros that I will follow the rules.”

Lord Wyldon looked over him once more, his eyes resting on his shaggy hair for a moment. “You can talk with the servants about a haircut; the hair is going to be major disadvantage for you when you follow our training. I do not know how you train in Shang but here we will not go easy on you in practice. Every advantage that can be made will be taken, and that covers gripping.”

For a short second joy was to be seen in the dark eyes eyes of the boy before they again went cold. “Don’t worry your Lordship, I don’t expect anybody to go easy on me, and if anybody grabs my hair they will regret it.” He his lips pulled into the first smile since he entered Lord Wyldon’s chambers. The smile was not calming nor nice… it was that of a hyena ready to tear its prey apart

“Very well, you will be at the hall when the supper bell rings with the new pages, is that understood? Their sponsors, mostly elder pages will be chosen to show you around before we go down to the mess.” Again a nod from the boy, Lord Wyldon waved him away showing that he could take his leave, which he did while leaving the room with a light bow. Leaving the training master and the older Shang-Warrior behind to talk.

Out of habit he stopped shortly in front of the door, as if he was hoping to catch a little of the talk. However, the men in the office were talking far too low for his ears to catch the sound, he slowly instead started making his way towards the pages wing.

Once he arrived the first person he met was a short and thin woman in a dark skirt and white blouse, which looked like to be the servants official uniform. She looked at the warrior. “I’m Salma, I will be showing you to your room Page Jungkook.”

“Jungkook is fine, I’m no page, they can put me in a uniform like them and make me look like them but I’m a warrior, not a doll for the king to play with.” He looked at the servant with pride shining out of his eyes, clearly showing that he meant every single word he said.

Salma just nodded and showed the young warrior to his rooms. “We will set up a magic lock for you to use, as we have had troubles with the boys harassing one of the newer pages. Even if we aren’t certain if the problems are still there we want to be sure.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “That will not be necessary, they can try and I will make them regret it.” His voice was slightly arrogant clearly showing what he meant about the pages.

The older servant left the boy in his new room after showing him around the standard page room and showing him the page uniform on his bed, then telling him that he could wear whatever he wanted to dinner. The second Selma closed the door the Shang student looked over his room checking every window and little corner to see if anything was wrong in the room. After that he looked at the page uniform like it had personally offended him. “That is not going to happen.”

Locking the door, he started stripping off his weapons from his clothes wrapping them down in black cloth and hiding them away under his bed. He had gotten strict orders by Master Jiyong, the Shang warrior who had followed him here, that all weapons were banned under dinner. Maybe because he was afraid that Jungkook would lose his temper with these puppets, he knew that Jungkook hated everybody that blindly followed orders from somebody they wasn’t even sure who really was.

He sat down on his bed closing his eyes taking two deep breaths, and he slowly started to relax in his shoulders and in his back, which had been tense ever since he walked into the palace this morning. “One year.” He mumbled for himself “One year and I’m out of here.”

He slowly started following the breathing rhyme that signaled meditating. “1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 and 6 and 7 and 8 and 9 and 10.” He breathed out, starting whispering counting again, and breathing in when the count reached 10, continuing that until he heard the first bell rang signalling that the supper bell was going to ring soon.   

Opening his eyes he slowly looked around taking one last deep breath before he made his way to the door, his shoulders and back tensing up again. He slowly made his way down to the hall in front of the mess hall.

He managed to make his way into the hall a good couple of minutes before the supper bell rung. The second he took a step into the hall his eyes swept around the room where he noticed two people. The one closest to the door with his back turned toward the young Shang apprentice was a boy or maybe even a man, it was hard to judge his age when he was only able to see his back. The squire uniform 15-17 but his height and build told him that he was probably closer to 20 than anything else was. That sight itself should have been weird enough, but Jungkook’s brown eyes was locked on the person furthest away from the door, a girl. She was an unusually tall girl wearing a dress that seemed a little too short for her; also, she hardly looked like the type of girl who would suit to wear her rather feminine dress. She had many small nicks and cuts that were found all over her arms and hands that weren’t able to be covered by the dress. Also she had a few on and around her face as if she had recently been in a fight. Jungkook’s eyes rested on the girl, and his limbs just froze. There, just in front of him, Keladry of Mindelan, the girl page ‘No… that can’t be true! It can’t be her!’ That made the squire next to her, her brother Jimin of Mindelan. Oh no.

He stared at the two, who were still talking with each other not noticing him in the doorway. Panic was clearly finding its way into his eyes, his shoulders becoming even more tense, and for a second he felt like he was going to run away. Before he had a chance to do so somebody knocked into his shoulder trying to get into the room, he whipped his head around in surprise. Jungkook had not heard the page coming up behind him. His eyes returned to its cold emotionless state it had been before he stepped into the room. He looked intensely at the male who tried to get past him.

When their eyes met, he raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” His voice being as cold as ice, a weak blush dusted the other males cheekbones, and he quickly broke the eye contact with him.

“Sorry,” was the only thing he got in return, swiftly making his way over to the two other nobles. That for a second, let confusion bleed into his face. As if he was not expecting that particular answer, his eyebrows nicked together in confusion before his face once again went blank. Jungkook took a deep breath and stepped into the room, keeping himself close to the wall while he took a deep breath as he was trying to calm himself down.

At his second deep breath, the rest of the pages as well as Training Master Wyldon made their way into the room, the same second he did that both the pages following him in and the three pages already in the room became silent. Deep respect was to be seen in all of their young faces, even if Jungkook disliked the fact that he was teaching them how to be a good puppet for the king, he still respected teachers. He knew how hard it was it was to be a teacher. Every Shang apprentice had to teach the new children the one who had just come in the basics, how to make a real fist and stuff like that, Jungkook hated it. The children were stupid and slow. They did not understand anything the first time and you had to repeat stuff; you had to show them repeatedly, it drove him insane.

“As you can all see the Shang Apprentice that I told you about has arrived” he made a hand gesture toward Jungkook that nobody luckily had noticed until now as he was trying very hard with hiding out of sight. Now he pushed himself away from the wall, walking slowly towards Lord Wyldon. Straightening his back eyes cold while he looked over the pages.

“This is Jungkook Sienie, he is the Shang apprentice who is going to train with us for the next year, as a part of our peace treaty with the Shang Warriors. He will be treated as any other page, so one will need to sponsor him to show him around the castle. Who will do it?”

The girl, Keladry, was fast to raise his hand and Jungkook’s heart rate started to pick up. He could not be stuck with Keladry for any amount of time! He could not be associated with Keladry at all. Luckily, one look from Wyldon made him drop it. “Page Keladry I have been informed that you require to spend any of your free time that you have on your archery skill.” This made Keladry’s eyes drop to the ground for a short time while colour rose to her cheeks, before she looked up again her face as stone. 'The Yamani look’ Jungkook’s mind was telling her. 'They taught her well.’

The Shang apprentice instead focused on looking around in the room, all of the pages looked away. It was clear that nobody wanted to sponsor him, for a second he was worried before a boy that looked to be a last year page like Keladry, raised his hand. “ Page Seaver,” Lord Wyldon nodded, as in showing that he accepted that, then he started making his way into the dining room.

Seaver made a sign to Jungkook for the Shang apprentice to follow him, at first he was close to just keep standing there. But one look around showed him that all the other pages was going in the dinner room as well, he decided that it was probably the best if he didn’t make himself stand out. If Jungkook wanted Keladry nor Jimin to not know who he was, it was key that he did nothing to trigger any kind of memory flashes.

Well the idea of not making Keladry really see him for whom he was, was destroyed as soon as Seaver got into line after Keladry and started chatting friendly with her. 'Lovely my sponsor is buddy buddy with the one out of two people I really, really need to not be buddy buddy with.’

After grabbing their food, Jungkook really hoped, almost begging Mithros in his mind 'Please don’t go sit next to Keladry, please don’t go sit next to Keladry. DAMN IT!’ Of course Seaver had to sit down almost next to Keladry, making it so the only space that were actually left at the table was a seat right between Keladry and Jimin.

Jungkook found himself in a dilemma; he could sit down next to Keladry and Jimin, which would be the logical explanation to anybody. However, Jungkook knew what that would mean; sitting at that table would mean that they would all start-asking questions, not that he could really blame them. Shang had always been very closed off, and now after the big changes that they had made in Shang. He was probably the first Shang warrior that the pages had seen other than the ones who were trainers here, and he knew from personal experience that younger people like the pages most of the time would feel a lot more comfortable talking with people of their own age other than adults.

Jungkook really did not want to have to answer all the questions. He was a good liar and all, and he didn’t even have that much to hide. But if Keladry or Jimin started catching on, remembering, that could be bad. To be honest he just wanted to run away. Long away from this castle, back to Shang to his friends… and enemies. Actually he would fucking take Tao any day of the week over this shit! This was such an unfair punishment! If he walked away from this table, away from his sponsor that would be like sending a big message saying. ‘I am better than you guys!’. Probably also stopping any kind of help Seaver would be giving him to find his way around, and he really needed the help, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself.

Jungkook took a deep breath before he sat down between the two siblings, and in that moment wishing he hadn’t cut his bangs, he would very much like to hide his eyes and hope that nobody would recognize him.

He got himself ready to start eating when Seaver grabbed his arm across the table; Jungkook looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Was he going to start thinking he could decide whether he was allowed to eat or not? Seaver pointed towards Lord Wyldon, who started his… food prayer? 'These people are strange’ as a Shang apprentice, he bowed down to no god. Gods were only there to cause troubles for mortals. In Shang, they were thought to create and find their own way instead of believing the gods would do it for them. The only god they worked with was the trickster god, he rubbed one of his many tattoos on his body as a reminder of the blessing given to him, but Jungkook would still never bow down to the trickster.

The pages all looked at Lord Wyldon giving Jungkook time to study them, on his left was Keladry, and in front of him was Seaver looking closer at the page he was now 100% sure that Seaver had some kind of Bazhir blood in him. He seemed like a person who would think before he spoke, a quality Jungkook would appreciate, especially because he knew it was one he didn’t have, his temper simply did not allowing it.

On side Seaver at the table was the boy Jungkook had blocked, his hair was red and straight, his eyes a shade of pale blue and his nose long and broad. The way he was sitting and holding himself made Jungkook think that he had a lot bigger temper than the well-mannered and soft spoken Seaver. He looked around the same age of both Seaver and Keladry.

To the boys right, also in front of Jungkook was a younger and shorter boy sitting. He looked to be around a year younger than most of the group, his hair was a dull brown colour and his eyes grey. To be honest he looked a little dull compared to his friends, he did not have the flaming red hair, the Bazhir blood, or anything else, he was just very normal.

Next to Jungkook, was Jimin… Jungkook knew for certain that Jimin wasn’t a page, and that was supported by the fact that he was wearing the squire uniform instead. Jimin was short and sturdy build, arms showing strength even through the shirt.

His hair was brown and his eyes soft but still expressive, his skin was a darker color than his sister, linking him to the Yamani islands just like Jungkook, the hands that were resting on the table were small, but like the rest of the people around the table they were showing small scars and nicks like a soldier.

Jimin had grown to be so pretty… So handsome, but Jungkook could not think about that! He had more importants things to think about!

A sad smile made its way to Jungkook’s lips; it reminded him of his friends in Shang. A place where you were encouraged to be up to no good. They encouraged you to break the rules, as long as you were not caught. If you got caught, Jungkook shuddered… never get caught. You learned that fast. He was ripped out of his thoughts when all of the pages mumbled something. After that, they started to eat, (which Jungkook was quick at joining them in.) It was the first time in over a week he got the opportunity eat real food instead of whatever they had hunted and found under their journey, not that he didn’t like game, or the fruit and berries they found, but with almost no real cooking or anything to spice it up, it got bland and boring very quickly.

Jungkook managed to put the first few forkfuls into his mouth before the first question fell to him. This came from the red haired boy who was speaking while shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth “Sienie? It doesn’t sound Yamani, but you look Yamani.”

Jungkook put down his fork and send him his best ice glare. “It’s a very common name in Yamani for commoners, not that I expect you to know that.” The tone of voice was friendly but the undertone was very clear that he did not appreciate the question. The tip of the redhead’s ears heated up to almost the same color as his hair and he looked down like he had been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

Keladry let out a little laugh at Jungkook’s left. “Don’t take Merric’s comment badly, it’s easy to forget that you aren’t a noble when you hold yourself and eat like one.” That comment earned another hard stare from Jungkook.

“Well I’m sorry that I don’t eat like an animal, we do learn proper manners at Shang. I’m so sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable.” His voice was almost sharp enough to cut diamonds. Jungkook hated being judged like that, even if he knew that they meant. Nothing mean about it, it was just easier for him to be aggressive towards them; it was a big part of who he was when he did not know people.

If he had expected Keladry or any of the other pages to give him a sharp answer back like a one from Shang would he was mistaken, what he got was a laugh from Jimin. “It was humour, we should probably tell you who we are. Since we know mostly who you are, but you have no clue about us.” He sent Jungkook a smile, but he did not get one back, just an annoyed look. He was not overly keen on knowing who they were; it is a lot easier to hate people you do not know.

If the blank stare and a raised eyebrow was supposed to make Jimin stop he just ignored Jungkook and started his little speech. “I would be Jimin of Mindelan, I’m a 3rd year square. My Knight is Seokjin of Tazni, he is a Yamani knight who spends most of his time here,” he pointed at the smaller boy at his right, “Owen of Jesslaw, he is a 3 year page,” and then he pointed at the red-haired boy. “That would be Merric of Hollyrose. Do not take what he says too serious. To your right would be your sponsor Seaver of Tasride.” Lastly, he pointed at Keladry, “And last but not least we have.”

“Keladry of Mindelan” Jungkook interrupted before he could stop himself, he could feel all of their eyes on him, and he had to come up with a lie quickly. So he just shrugged his shoulders. “I am a part of Shang, we pride ourselves in knowing most of what is going on around the different countries, female rights are something close and dear to many of us, so of course we have heard of the female page. It is kind of sad it took you this long to get one. But I guess nobles have always been slow so we should be happy you got one at all. ”

A nervous laugh came out of them around the table, as if they were not sure if Jungkook was trying to be funny or not. He could feel how Keladry was trying to meet his eyes. However, he refused, a little afraid that his eyes would give him away, instead Jungkook just focused on eating.

“Well that was awkward” It came from Seaver, “I don’t think any of us had thought of you like that. Most of us are fascinated of Shang, they…” he stopped and corrected himself “you… are seen as elite warriors. As nobles, none of us has never even been able to dream of becoming a Shang Warrior, but I’m sure that many of us would jump at the chance of becoming one.” Jungkook knew that what he said was again trying to be friendly, he knew that it was a compliment, and she of all people had no right to say anything against what he was saying. He took a deep breath.

Then he gave a nod. “My name is Jungkook Sienie. I’m a Shang apprentice on my last year, and I am not from the Yamani islands” Lies… Lies… He thought for a second if he was meant to say anything else, it was no secret that Shang had gotten their own kind of 'magic’, but Jungkook did not feel comfortable discussing it with them. In addition, He was afraid they wanted to see his marks that was inked on both arms and legs waiting for him to active them.

“I was trained mostly in the Tortallan camp and a couple of years in the copper isles as well. The name Sienie is a common name in Tortall yes, but it’s the name I took not the name I was given.” He hoped that was enough information for them to not ask anymore, and what he said was mostly right, Sienie was his taken name, and they did not need to know what his given name was.

“You look old for an apprentice; we got told it’s rare that you guys gets kept in your apprentice-hood for longer than 16 or 17.” Jimin blurted out.

This earned him a slight hiss Jungkook could not keep back and after that a stare cold enough to freeze over hell. “And you look old enough to be a teacher here, you must have failed your test many times. Weird that they would still keep you, we would have kicked you out long ago… If you had survived that long, which i doubt. So before you judge my age, remember your own.” He hated when people pointed it out, he knew he was becoming old for an apprentice, many of his friends had passed years ago and he was a lot more skilled than they were. But what right did this small over aged squire have to judge him?! Jungkook was sure he was both smarter, faster and stronger than Jimin could ever dream of becoming; after all, he was a doll while Jungkook was a warrior.

Another awkward laugh came from the pages around the table, most of them sounded like they weren’t sure what they was supposed to do now. All of them mostly just stared at their plate while eating, Jungkook was sure that he had made it very very obvious that asking him questions was a bad idea.

After about ten more minutes of silence, they all started talking again, on the bright sight they did not try to make Jungkook join in, which he was grateful for. He could not really be bothered to have a meaningless conversation with people who really meant nothing for him. He instead focused on his food and somewhat just zoned out, he felt like his mind was going to explode. This was like being back in the first days of Shang, finding out the lies, sorting them, and not messing up, he was happy he was older now.

“Kel? Kel? Hello? Stop zoning out on me.” It came from the red-haired Merric, that made Jungkook wake half up, looking to the side, hazel meeting dark brown. Keladry had clearly spaced out while staring at Jungkook.

The Shang apprentice put down his fork. “Is there a problem?” He asked in a slightly annoying look before casting his eyes down at the plate again. He did not want Keladry to risk recognizing his special dark shade of brown.

“I’m sorry, but did you grow up in Mindelan? Or anywhere near there? I have the weird feeling have seen you before.” this was said hesitantly, as if she was not sure if she was allowed to ask.

“No I have never even been close to Mindelan, you could have seen me on one of the many assignment the apprentice’s gets. We travel far and wide while proving we are strong enough to be warriors, even if we do not put a big flag up saying we are Shang apprentices. I can assure you that there is a lot of us, especially since we don’t have a high survival rate.” Jungkook casted his stare at Keladry for a short second, that had not been a complete lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. He did not want Keladry to question it, so he made a sprinkle of sadness find its way into his words, to make it sound like it was a subject he rather avoid.

“Oh, I just have this feeling that I have seen you before, but I can’t remember where.” Jungkook did not look at her, but it was clear in her voice that Keladry regretted asking.

The rest of the meal went on without much conversation directed at Jungkook, a few times, they tried to make him join into the conversation, but he just sent them a stare and then ignored them. A headache was slowly make itself known with pain gathering in his temple. It was not the noise all the pages was making, that he was used to, and when he normally ate everyone ate. All of Shang, from the small children at the age of six to the full grown Shang warriors who were home.

The problem was how he had to focus on just eating, not saying anything, normally his loved talking over the food. Jungkook and his friends normally discussed the days training, or the news they had gotten that day, or just whatever was on their mind at that time. He already knew that this was going to be one long year.

After the meal was over, he silently followed the group back to the page quarters. They all seemed to wanting to gather in Keladrys room to finish the day’s homework. They extended the offer to Jungkook who, as politely as he could, declined before make his way back to his own room.

When he was about to unlock the door to his room, he noticed something was not right, the door was already unlocked! Which he knew it hadn’t been when he left it. Within a second, he regretted he had stripped off all his weapons of when he left for dinner. He took a deep breath and pushed the door slowly open with his foot, while mentally preparing himself for whatever could be waiting inside his room.

When the door was open, Jungkook at first saw nothing out of the ordinary. Other than, the darkness that his room was covered in, but a very quick flash of movement near the window caught his attention and it was the only warning before the human in the shadows was over him. Jungkook blocked an arm that was wielding a knife being aimed directly for his throat. He slipped to the side wanting to dislocate the elbow, but the instant he tried to do so the attacker blocked him, almost as if they knew what he wanted to do.

In that moment he knew who it was, it was the same man who had taught him the same trick. For a second he considered to take the option of picking a fight, he knew that he was baiting him, testing him. He forced himself to drop the defence, even if it was hard, and he could almost feel the physical pain from it.

“Master Jiyong, you enjoy your tests to much.” Jungkook said it in a light tone, clearly showing that he was completely comfortable around this man.

The man removed the hood covering his face, and now you could clearly see that the man was the Shang Warrior there was with him earlier in Lord Wyldons office. “You make it too easy for me, you almost gave in to your anger again.” He also used a light tone and the tension the young boys shoulder reduced a lot. “But I can’t blame you, I’m against you being here. This punishment is too hard, especially because it’s officially not a punishment.” He put a big hand on Jungkooks shoulder sending him a sad smile. “Will you be okay?”

For the first time in the whole day, Jungkook let the masks fall. Showing that he really was still a young boy, with way too many lies, and with way too much on his shoulder. He was afraid it was evident in his eyes, afraid and worried. “I don’t know.” he said this quietly, his voice almost shaking “It’s her… She is here. So is Jimin.”

While Jiyong hugged Jungkook close not wanting to let him go especially since he himself had to leave soon.

The rogue king sat at his normal table listening to one of his mens report on the new Shang warrior’s. His smile was more of a smirk as Yoongi told him about Jungkook. “Get him to me as soon as he goes into town alone. I think I need a talk with him.” After all the thieves and Shang had a special bond.

Knight Seokjin found his squire spacing out in the hallway looked confused. “What is wrong Jimin?” He had always been close to Jimin like an older brother since there wasn’t much age difference between them.

Jimin looked up at Seokjin, met with the pretty features of the flower knight. “The new Shang apprentice here… He is lying.”

In the city of the gods Namjoon had just been given his black robe, almost not believing how he managed to get there. He cringed a little when they called him Namjoon Quanri, it wasn’t his name but he knew he couldn’t correct them. Not yet. But he was now the highest ranked mages in the world.

Hoseok finally arrived back at the palace after a long summer fighting immortals with the queens riders. A new badge as a squad leader stuck to his shirt, he had no idea how much trouble he was going to get himself wrapped up in. How much he was going to fall in love… how much they were all going to fall in love with different people and risk their life for it. Hell he didn’t even know any of them yet, but he was soon to.

Because Jungkook had officially started the biggest war to hit Tortall, he wouldn’t know that for a long time though.

Authors note:

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS!

All the other guys will have their side stories as well, the pairings will be Seokjin x Yoongi, Namjoon x Hoseok and  Taehyung x Everybody, with his final pairing being hidden for now, but it is member of another group!

Oh… And their is Seungri x Jiyong and Seunghyun x Jiyong, both fighting for the love of the Shang unicorn!

- Prussia

[sequencefairy]

No More Dreaming of the Dead

Ichiruki. Not!Angst. Further ruminations on sword spirits and Rukia’s bankai, also for @deathberryprompts weekly drabble theme from a week ago, ‘release’. ~1600 words.  Companion piece to And Silver On Our Tongues

Ichigo wakes up in a cold sweat for weeks afterwards, dreaming about the sharp crack of ice shattering against stone.

[ AO3 ] 

The first time Rukia achieves bankai, they nearly lose her. 

Hakka no Togame is beautiful – all white dress and ribbons and a glittering crown of ice – but Ichigo can’t stop thinking about how Rukia’s skin was cold as frozen iron and her gaze turned from vivid violet to the thousand-yard lilac stare of someone looking beyond the veil of life and death. 

He can’t stop thinking about how the air around her froze so quickly and so cleanly that a rain of frost dusted his robes white and left everyone around them gasping against the knifing cold in their lungs. He can’t stop thinking about how, instead of billowing outwards, her reiatsu spiraled in, tighter and tighter, until he could barely feel her, even though he was standing as close as he had been told he safely could. 

The moment of release still knocked everyone backwards. 

When the dust settled, Ichigo got shakily to his feet, rivulets of melting snow running down the back of his neck and dripping off his hair onto his face. Rukia was standing, untouched, in the center of the devastation, still as a statue, her blade shattered down to the hilt. 

There were no other thoughts in his head; he had to get to her, and get to her now. 

He threw himself into shunpo, ignoring the yelled warnings behind him. When he reached her, the cold was almost unbearable. Every breath felt like he’d swallowed Zangetsu. 

Ichigo reached out -  brought shaking fingers to rest against her cheek. The burning cold of her skin made him flinch, but Ichigo did not pull away. “Rukia.” Ichigo’s hand curved around her jaw, cupping her chin. “Rukia, please, you can let go now, you did it.

The air around them seemed to sigh, and Rukia blinked. 

She blinked again, and the suddenly melting crown slid through her hair, and hit the ground, shattering with the tinkling of bells. Rukia inhaled, and her hair faded back to raven-black and her eyes turned back to liquid violet. 

“Oh,” she said, and looked up at him. “Did I do it?” 

Ichigo pulled her in, crushing her smaller form against his chest, and burying his face in the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. Rukia’s arms came up slowly around his back. They stood, absorbed in each other, for a long while, before Rukia pulled away, and the clean up began. 

(Later, they find out that she can’t hold it for longer than a few seconds, because it will freeze her from the inside out. Ichigo bites his tongue against the desire to tell Rukia to stop, to never do it again, because he knows that she would have felt the same way about his choice to use Mugetsu had she known, and she wouldn’t have stopped him either.) 

(It doesn’t stop him from running practice drills until Zangetsu slips from exhausted hands and he nearly amputates his own toes. It doesn’t stop him from trying to divert the strategy meetings away from solutions that involve her having to use her bankai unless it is absolutely necessary.) 

(Ichigo is overruled, time and again, by Rukia herself.) 

(The dreams get worse.) 

Ichigo wakes up, again, with the scent of snow in his nose. Beside him, Rukia sleeps on, unperturbed by his dreams. He rolls away from her and gets out of their bed, walking barefoot and barely dressed across the floor of their shared room to slide the door across and step outside. 

It is snowing gently, and the whole courtyard is covered in a thick blanket of white. When he went to sleep, outside was muggy heat and lush green, but now it feels like midwinter. Ichigo steps off the wooden porch and down into the snow. There is a rustling noise behind him as he steps forward, and when he turns to check, the villa is gone, and in its place is an endless stand of snow-covered firs. 

He reaches up and back for Zangetsu, but comes up empty-handed. 

“He will not help you here,” she says, appearing in a swirl of snow. 

“And where is here, exactly?” Ichigo asks. 

“Do you really not know?” The woman is dressed all in white, and her long hair - the same colour as the moon that rises, solemn over the mountains in the distance - fans out in an invisible breeze. 

“Sode no Shirayuki,” Ichigo says, and the sword spirit smiles. “Is this –” 

“You are here at her request,” Shirayuki says, “and you are here because you are afraid.” 

Ichigo balks. Shirayuki smiles, but it is not the pleasant smile of a mother, it is a cold and hungry thing. 

“You are afraid, Kurosaki.” Shirayuki glides towards him and prods his chest with her finger. “You forget, I think, that I lived here once.” 

“What kind of zanpakuto kills their master with their power?” Ichigo asks, and Shirayuki laughs. Ichigo frowns. 

“It is not so simple as that,” she says. 

“Then, explain.” 

“Kurosaki, have you learned nothing from your own zanpakuto? No. I suppose you wouldn’t have.” Shirayuki sighs. 

“Hey! What do you mean?” Ichigo protests. 

“Ichigo Kurosaki,” Shirayuki muses, gliding in a wide circle around him. Ichigo turns to follow her with his eyes. “Wielder of Zangetsu, substitute shinigami, and –” Shirayuki pauses, and Ichigo is pinned by her gaze. “You love her, don’t you?” 

“What? I don’t – I mean, what does that have to do with anything?” 

“Oh, I think that’s the whole of it, don’t you?” Shirayuki says, and Ichigo reaches for Zangetsu again. Shirayuki crosses the distance between them with shunpo so fast that Ichigo cannot track her until she phases in again, right in front of him. “I told you that he would not help you here, why do you hide behind him?” 

“I’m not hiding,” Ichigo argues, “I’m just tired of all these riddles. Thought it was time to cut through the bullshit.” 

Neither of them speak for a long moment. Shirayuki stays in his personal space, and Ichigo fights the urge to take a step back, and doesn’t drop his gaze. 

“Do you not believe she is capable of wielding my strength, Ichigo Kurosaki?”   

“That’s not it at all – of course Rukia can handle your power, you wouldn’t be her zanpakuto if she couldn’t –” 

“Do you think my strength is not enough to defeat her enemies?” 

“I’ve seen what the two of you can do,” Ichigo answers, and then looks up at Shirayuki. “And I haven’t forgotten what it was like when I held your power too.” 

“Then why do you hold her back? Why do you keep her from using her power to achieve the ends you wish to achieve?” 

“Because the ends don’t justify the means,” Ichigo says. “Rukia – Rukia could die if she uses her bankai.” 

“Rukia is not afraid,” Shirayuki states. 

“I’m sure she’s not,” Ichigo agrees, hurriedly. 

“And yet, here you are.” Shirayuki draws back, and Ichigo sucks in a breath. “Obviously the lesson of the saigo no getsuga tensho was lost on you.” She turns away from him then, in dismissal. 

“The lesson? What are you talking about?” Ichigo says, stepping forward. Shirayuki remains silent.  “Hey, I’m talking to you.” 

Ichigo steps forward again, and again, until he can reach out to touch her. He pokes her in the shoulder. “Hey –!” Shirayuki turns with a vicious speed, and her hand closes around his throat and Ichigo chokes as she lifts him, easily, off his feet.   

“You dare,” she hisses, and there’s a cold fury in her eyes that makes Ichigo’s blood chill. “You have less manners than I thought possible.” Ichigo’s hands scrabble against her grip. Shirayuki huffs, and then drops him. Ichigo lands sloppily, and ends up on his knees at her feet. 

Shirayuki materializes a sword from thin air, and thrusts it at him. The point stops just beneath his chin. Ichigo swallows. His heart throbs in his ears, and he can feel the cold from the snow seeping up through his robes. 

“Since you seem to learn best at the point of a sword,” Shirayuki says, then crouches, so she is eye to eye with him. “The lesson is this: when you cut, cut; when you protect, protect; when you fight, win. Losing is not an option, Ichigo Kurosaki, and Rukia has accepted the cost of winning. Didn’t you do the same?” 

She leaves him then, in a snowy gust of wind that nearly blinds him. 

When Ichigo opens his eyes, he’s still on his knees, but now he’s back under summer skies in the courtyard. Shirayuki’s words echo in his mind. He gets to his feet, and walks slowly back across the courtyard. He shucks the kosode he’d pulled on when he’d gotten out of bed earlier and carefully slides back in beside Rukia. 

Rukia rolls over, and sleepily nuzzles her head into his chest. Ichigo wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and closing his eyes. 

He does not dream again of the sound of ice cracking against stone.

(The ends still don’t justify the means, and there’s nothing that says the fight has to get far enough that Rukia’s bankai is the only option. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep it from getting there, and in the meantime, he’ll hold Rukia every chance he gets, because if he doesn’t succeed, all he’ll have left to hold is shards of ice that will melt in his hands.) 

[thisisarealtagwhy]

Day Eight: Tears

So, this is more straw hats cos im a sucker for them.

There’s a bit of mild gore but that’s in the very last part of it so i warn you, if you haven’t got a strong stomach don’t read it. But, that being said, the warning im going to give you is that there is a nightmare rotting corpse.

Oh, i actually just went and labelled the gory part so if you want to read the rest of it go ahead.

So, without further ado:

The tears shed between all of them are probably enough to fill a small pool.

But, their captain will always be there for them despite how many times they push him away.

Brook has almost nothing to his name anymore.

Well, that’s a lie.

He has the clothes he has bought over the two years of being a part of civilisation.

He has his cane-sword. One that he was given after he completed his swordsman ship in fencing. It had been a beautiful occasion and both of his parents had bought him the sword.

Then he had left for a pirating journey, running into Captain Yorki and the Rumbar pirates.

Laboon, I’m so sorry. Captain Yorki murmurs under his breath, unable to fully draw in his next.

Brook doesn’t understand why – but he does entirely and that is why he hates himself.

Captain Yorki takes his last breath and Brook screams.

It’s not like… before…

Brook is a terrible captain, he never wanted this job but it had been Captain Yorki’s final order as captain so there is no way he was able to turn it down.

But then….

“Brook! We’ve got company! We can’t see anything in this damn fog…” One of the crew cries, then he is shot and they’re all fighting for their lives.

“Brook!”

The humming swordsman is everywhere at once, trying desperately to prevent his crew, his nakama from being killed from something he could have should have avoided.

And as he lays there dying he apologizes to Laboon, to Captain Yorki because he couldn’t help either of them.

“One last time, for Laboon.” He murmurs and begins to play.

“Binkusu no sake wo, todoke ni yuuku yo…

He cries silently as his crew falls one after the other to the poison tipped arrows, he will not cry aloud because Laboon deserves so much better, and he can only hope that someone will find them one day and play it for Laboon.

“Umikaze kimakase namimakase…

Captain Yorki, I have failed you, Brook thinks. He knows that he’s going to die, he’s accepted his fate.

He knows that if he doesn’t die by some miracle, then…

He doesn’t like to think about what he might do, all alone in the fog.

“Captain!”

Brook wakes up with twin tears streaming down his skeletal face (but how could he cry if he has no tear ducts?).

“Brook.” It’s said lowly enough but Brook turns anyway, still heaving his sobs out.

Luffy is sitting next to his hammock, holding his hand. Brook cries some more because here the man who is going to make his dream true is here with him.

“Senchou-san.” He gasps out, he needs air (which is odd for he is a skeleton).

“Brook.” Luffy murmurs again and climbs into his hammock without any further prompting.

Luffy wraps his rubbery limbs around the skeleton, Brook allows himself to be ensconced within the warm embrace of his captain, friend, brother.

“You’re here with us Brook.” Luffy says into his rib-cage and Brook can’t help but remember just how small the captain is but how big he seems sometimes – and not just because of the ridiculous gears or food for that matter.

“I know, Luffy-san, it is just…”

Luffy tightens his limbs. “It’s okay Brook. One day I’ll be King of the Pirates and then we’ll go see Laboon, mmkay?”

“But-”

“No buts about it, you’re going to see Laboon again, I painted a jolly roger on his head so he won’t be trying to get through anymore.” Luffy says.

Brook hums contentedly, then Luffy’s stomach grumbles and he blushes a little.

“Do you want to go get some food, Luffy-san?” Brook asks.

“Okay, you’re coming too.” Luffy says cheerfully and drags the skeleton out of the hammock.

Brook doesn’t protest, he wishes to be surrounded by the straw hat pirates once more.

He remembers, he does have things from before. He has his memories, he has a tone dial with a last message. And most importantly he is still himself. He may not be flesh and blood but he is sure that Laboon will remember him.

Franky barely has any of his body left anymore.

Not his original body, at least.

It’s all been coated and replaced by synthetic skin and metallic counterparts.

He knows that he was never wanted, his parents ditched him on that scrap island, but that’s okay because he found something better than his shitty parents anyway.

“Tom! Look at what I made!” He says, proudly presenting the tiny canoe to his mentor.

“Good job Franky.” Tom says gruffly, before turning back to his own boat.

“Tch.”

“Wanna go, Bakaberg?” Franky asks, he had been high strung that morning and he was ready to take it out on his surrogate brother.

“Nothing.”

Then the dream is dissolving like acid and fading away, replaced by something far worse.

“We’re under attack!”

“What the hell?! They shouldn’t be firing!” Franky is near hysterical by this point.

And then Tom, Tom is sacrificing himself and there ain’t a damn thing he can do about it.

“Stop Puffing Tom, where are you taking your master!?” He hasn’t got anything to live for.

His master, dad is sacrificing himself for his sake and he shouldn’t be. “Please, Tom.”

Then all he feels is blinding pain, hot and white.

And Franky screams.

He builds himself his own armour that he melds to the back of his body. Although, he used a lot bigger parts so the skin on his back is quite stretched at the moment.

Franky swears that he will never allow something like that to happen.

He only has heard bits and pieces about what goes on inside of Impel Down from both the news and from what Luffy’s spoken of when the captain is delirious.

(Poison, and fire, and so much more)

“It’ll be okay.” He reassures himself as he bites down on a spare piece of wood, burning the hot metal to his skin.

Any nerves he had in the front are replaced with wires and cords, whilst his back is crying in constant pain.

Who knew that making a cyborg without anaesthesia would be so damn hard?

And then he is fading away and the monstrous pits of his imagination swallow him whole.

What kind of hell could his master be undergoing before his death?

Fire?

Starvation?

Poison?

Ice?

This is all your fault.

“Tom! Please! I’m sorry! I’ll be a better student! Just come back!”

Of course, his wishes fall on deaf ears and he hopes, hopes to high heaven and back that Tom was not subjected to the torture he thinks goes on inside of Impel Down.

“Oi~!”

“Tom!” Franky wakes with one arm extending to the ceiling.

He begins to cry again, which is so not super…

“Franky!”

“What do you want Luffy?” He tries wiping his eyes, but they just keep on coming.

The hammock creaks a little under the weight of the duo but Franky built them to be solid.

Luffy pressed himself up against the synthetic skin and Franky wishes that he could actually feel said captain.

Luffy presses a little harder.

Franky sobs a little louder.

No words are exchanged, only the cries of Franky are to be heard.

Next thing Franky knows, he’s drifting off to sleep. And all he dreams of that night are grinning straw hats and an endless sea of adventure.

Robin has many regrets in life.

She regrets that she wasn’t able to save Ohara.

She regrets that she doesn’t have the medallion that identifies her as an archaeologist anymore.

“Are you my mother?”

The memory swirls into existence and the white-haired women takes another step forward-away from her.

“Please, I’ve been working so hard.”

“It’ll be okay Robin.”

“Mum! Mum!”

She is within Saul’s tight grip and her mother stays behind to protect her.

And then… “The sea is a wide place, there are surely nakama waiting out there for you Robin! Search for them!”

Kuzan freezes the rest of the giant even as he laughs away.

She… doesn’t deserve to live.

The scholars are all most likely dead, that or taken away to the World Government for execution.

All of the civilians are dead, shot down by Vice-Admiral Sakazuki.

Ohara is burning and the tree of knowledge falls.

But fire, fire burns through the island and tears at the edges of her reality.

“Derishishi!” She cries even as she follows the ice path.

She is just a monster, who would want her to live?

She could have saved them.

She could have helped them.

Robin cries in aguish for her friends.

She may be an archaeologist but she is alone.

The burden to take her in is far too much either way.

The fire still feels hot, but not hot like one would expect of a blazing island.

“Mum.”

She wakes up in a pool of her own sweat and tears, Luffy wrapped around her middle. “Hello senchou-san.” She manages to choke out around the lump in her throat.

“It’s okay Robin.”

Is it? She wants to ask, but she will not because Luffy feels like warmth, and strangely enough, freedom.

“We’re not leaving.” He mumbles into her chest and she is mildly surprised that Nami was not in here.

The mikan by her bedside speaks for itself, she thinks.

“I am okay now senchou-san.”

Despite her steady voice Luffy still grips her. “It’s okay Robin.” He repeats.

She doesn’t attempt to dislodge him.

Doctor Hiruluk is a quack doctor.

Chopper knows this.

But he also loves his doctor who showed him that not all humans were monsters.

Some nights Chopper dreams that he learnt quicker and saved Doctor Hiruluk.

Some nights he dreams that Doctor Kureha healed Doctor Hiruluk.

But some nights…

“Why couldn’t you save me Chopper?!”

“You’re worthless, you’re a monster!”

“You are not my son! No son of mine is furry, and has a blue nose.”

It’s always harder to distinguish whether Doctor Hiruluk actually said that or not.

Doctor Hiruluk is coughing again, but Chopper ignored all of the signs.

So he waves a flag in declaration against any known disease by mankind, and then some.

He waves it in surrender for he will not be able to learn without her.

Kureha accepts him because of a promise to the stupid quack doctor.

I want…

I want Doctor Hiruluk to be okay.

“I’m raising my flag to challenge all of the diseases out there!”

A hand is slapped to the cherry blossom flag.

“Really?”

“Yup! You gotta face life’s challenges head-on Chopper! That’s why I’m a doctor Chopper.”

“Don’t we make things worse?”

“Nonsense, I like to think that we help people smile again.”

He laughs.

“You’re sick?”

Chopper is beaten within an inch of his life but it’s okay because he found it, the cure to doctor’s disease.

It can cure anything.

“When do you think a man dies?”

“Doctor! Just wait for me! Please!”

“When they're shot through the heart with a pistol? ...No.”

Chopper is running as fast as he can. He can’t have given Doctor a poison, Doctor said that the skull and cross bones meant a challenge!

“When they have an uncurable disease? ...No. When they drink soup made from a poisonous mushroom?”

He will make it, he has to, Doctor did so many nice things for him, he cannot be the reason the kind Doctor dies. He can’t be.

“No! When they are forgotten! Even if I die, my dream will come true. The hearts of the people will be cured..!”

And Chopper screams in rage and pain and charges at the 20 MD. “Doctor Hiruluk!”

And he wakes up to the wooden roof of Sunny. He immediately stuffs his hooves in his mouth to prevent any more noise from escaping but the damage has been done.

He hears the crew murmur some things to each other before a pair of arms encircle him, squeezing him tightly. They were warm, contradictory to the cold his mind was telling him was there.

“L-l-luffy?”

“Shhh, we’re going to sleep, aren’t we?”

Chopper just nods and feels Luffy shift behind him before settling down.

“Just sleep Chopper, we’re all here.”

Sanji didn’t have a particularly good childhood.

The way he was brought up it was kill or be killed, okay, so not as drastic but the point stands that the Vinsmokes were brutal bastards.

Even Reiju, as kind as she had been, she hadn’t spoken out against the treatment. Not that he blamed her, there was no doubt she would have joined him.

The darkness was oppressive, pushing down on him from within the metal helmet.

It had been a week since he had been left down here, whether to die was another matter.

Sanji had cut open his hands on the helmet.

And Reiju still was kind to him.

But his mother…

She always tried to make him feel better. She had even tried to hide just how sick she was.

But Sanji wasn’t stupid, he could see the way she was beginning to slip away.

And finally…

She faded away…

There weren’t many attenders to her funeral. Either out of fear for Germa 66 or because they didn’t care.

Sanji was the only one who cried.

He did so in secret so he didn’t make a big scene but they heard him anyway. “Look at this wuss, crying like a little coward.”

“Baha.”

“We should teach him a lesson.”

Their fists rained down on him and he was pretty sure that at least one bone broke which was always a pain in the ass because he wasn’t able to cook half of the time.

The memory swirled like cake batter before reforming to that godamned rock.

“He still has plenty of food left.”

“What are you doing, little eggplant? Did you see a ship?”

“I’m here for your food old-man.”

But there was no food, only worthless gold and a stump of a leg.

It’s your fault and you know it.

He sacrificed it all and this is how you want to repay him?

Stupid little Vinsmoke, should have died before he was born.

“It’s delicious Sanji!”

“You liar…”

He wakes up, curled onto one side, tears sliding down his face silently.

He loves his mother, he loves the shitty old geezer too.

But he hurt both of them…

A body lands on top of him and it takes everything to not just scream at Luffy. “Hi Sanji.”

Then Luffy winds his way into his chest, worming into his curled up figure and he figures what the hell? And allows the captain to have his way.

“You’re nice and warm, shishi.”

Sanji’s still trembling but eventually they die down.

“What are you doing shitty rubber?”

“I was cold so I wanted to warm up.”

It’s infallible logic, if it wasn’t currently 25 degrees. Sanji thinks it’s more impressive that Luffy didn’t whistle or give away his lie.

So Sanji allows the idiot to stay there.

It is comforting, but he would never admit that.

Usopp knows that there had to be something wrong with him.

Logically, as a young child he thought that maybe his father just didn’t want to stay because of the responsibilities of having a child.

He thinks that that is why his mother died of her sickness.

But that isn’t what usually haunts his dreams.

No, there’s about a bajillion other things that scare him hidden within the folds of his nightmares.

Usopp is a perfectly normal human being. He dreams of death probably more than he should.

Death by perfectly innocent looking things.

But he grew stronger over the two years, so his captain would never have to go through that again.

His nightmares are primarily about Merry.

She carried them for as long as possible.

And that is why she could die happy. The ocean floor is a lonely place. Usopp thinks.

He thinks about it a lot, if he were to die, he would prefer for it to be back in between Water 7 and Enies Lobby where Merry waits for them.

He will fufill his dream but he isn’t dumb, he knows he’s not invincible, hell, none of them are invincible.

So he wakes from dreams filled with stupid deaths and dark blue oceans to the sight of a familiar straw hat and a warmth at his back that hadn’t been there before.

Nami is adopted, that’s okay, Bellmère is a marine that saved her.

She was adopted into a dirt-poor family, that’s also okay, she knows how to steal and she loves Nojiko and Bellmère.

Her dreams are filled with the days they plant mikan trees together.

But eventually they crumble away like the soil beneath their toes to that day.

The day that Arlong came into her life.

She had been so mean, such a bitch that she had said those things to Bellmère. The ex-marine had only ever been kind to her.

And she still had the gall to complain about how much she had. Such materialistic desires, she knows better now.

But it’s a little too late.

“I’m sorry Genzo but I can’t stand here and say that I have no children. Nami! Nojiko! I love you!”

“Bellmère!!” Both sisters scream in synchronisation.

“I will get 100 million beri, if it’s the last thing I do.”

The tattoo is like a claw around her shoulder, pulling her back to the bastard that had ruined her life. She tears at her skin desperately trying to pull it off.

Because he promised and her village is going to be destroyed because of her naivety.

But then Luffy is there, stopping her from utterly destroying her arm further.

A treasure is placed in her crew and later on she watches in pure, unadulterated awe as the boy – not even a man – takes down the seemingly invincible fishman.

But she still feels bitter.

All of those years amounted to nothing it was all stripped away in a moment and then a boy who had no business there was destroying the Arlong Pirates.

She wakes up crying, she quickly claws her way under the doona cover to prevent Robin from being woken up by her but then remembers that the archaeologist is on watch.

She sobs out loud, she misses Bellmère and the smell of her faint gunpowder and mikan and-

She shudders as the door is pushed open and footsteps thud dully along the floor, her doona is opened and a lithe frame slips in and brings her into his arms.

She can’t find the energy to tell him off for making his way into the woman’s quarters and instead buries her head in his chest, crying out the rest of her tears.

(The slightly graphic part:)

Zoro doesn’t have nightmares very often.

She left and it was all her fault to leave him with a promise to become the very best.

Taken away in a flash, just like that!

She was always stronger than him and he wishes she was alive now.

The grassy field is surprisingly warm despite the rippling wind.

Kuina is not much than a dark blob standing on the tree line.

But then she moves forward and any pretence of peace is broken by the sight of her rotting body.

Zoro flinches backwards because she is decomposing. There is a trail of human decay behind her as she walks, still as graceful as she was in life despite the gaping holes in her body.

An arm falls off and yet she still walks, skin green and white and grey, black matter falling out of her like an awful parody of snow.

“You were prepared to give it all up!” She screeches, sounding more like a banshee than the girl he had known.

Zoro takes the abuse as she comes closer and brings back a fist and punches him square in the face, it causes her arm to grotesquely snap and part of her body smears against his face.

He falls over, too stunned to do anything.

“You promised!” She screams again and straddles him, bringing her fists back and raining them down on his body.

At some stage they fell off and instead she is punching him with two stumps instead of fists, the blood that isn’t really blood is spreading over his dojo uniform and he feels like vomiting.

He wakes up, tears gathering in his good eye, he lets them fall despite the warmth at his chest from his captain.

“Hey Zoro.” Luffy whispers into his chest.

“Hey.” He manages, it sounds very strangled to his own ears and wonders if that’s what it sounds like to his captain.

“Zoro was having a nightmare.”

He wants to snort no shit sherlock but refrains, Luffy is warm against his chest, unlike the mockery of Kuina, her breath hot and rotting against-

Nope, just think about Luffy.

“Yeah.” He whispers.

And it’s okay, it’ll be okay.