#As far as I’m concerned between the devil and the deep blue sea

[overactive-amygdala]

I dunno, I keep hearing about Jenkins saying there’s no ofmd without con and my assumption is he’s gonna be in season 3 only in flashbacks, or as a ghost talking to Ed. And I’d just be so mad Izzy’s character gets reduced back down to managing Ed and being sassy. Season 1 Izzy was a delight, for sure, I love that cranky bastard man, but he went through so much development, if that’s how they keep him in the show then I’ll just die mad about it I guess. Just not gonna bother with S3. That’s it, my last Izzy rant. Thanks so much to every mutual who allowed me to remain on their dash :’)

[hellmouth-manor]

between the devil and the deep blue sea | nike | re: finale

“My master is too strong. I'll die. I know this, and I'm okay with this.”

Nike thought they would be fast enough. 

There was hardly a second of doubt in their mind if they would ever let that happen. It’s the stubborn part of them— there’s no asking whether you can or cannot, you just do— but as Alou transforms into a hideous goat monstrosity, they could only stay frozen in awe and horror. A moment’s distraction, just enough time for him to—

Squelch…

Thud.

Micah’s body hits the wall, and it’s sickening— how he was discarded as if he were just some toy, exactly the way Alou perceived him to be. Micah, who they owed so much to, not just in his role towards their counter attack, but in his companionship as a friend, who they didn’t realize was risking so much for their sakes, who knew he was walking to his death, but decided to face his destiny head on—

There’s hardly any hesitation before Nikephoras turns to Alou, eyes narrowed, a growl between their lips, despite the demonic features having already left their form. 

A rift begins to glow brightly in between their hands. It glows white hot, almost painful to the touch, like metal melding over bare skin, yet Nike doesn’t let go. They grip onto it tightly, pulling at the chain that emerges from the light. 

[♬]

Before they arrived at the mansion, Nike was nothing more than a walking shell bent on revenge.

To have so little, then have it all taken away—Somewhere in her mind, Nike convinced herself that perhaps peace was yet another one of her unreachable dreams; and the only way to survive was to fuel her heart with sins, and live like a wounded animal: setting their self ablaze and wait for the day their anger burned themselves from the inside out.

But that never happened, of course.

Coming here, Nike never intended on getting close. Why would they? They thought they were only going to stay with these people for a week at best. They wore the facade of a laughable fortune teller; something that they thought was far removed from the person they were.

( Though it was the great seer that invited people to partake in their desserts while they chat about their day, they didn’t have to make every effort to craft each sweet with careful hands. They didn’t have to teach people how to use coffee machines, or feel concern when they trip and fall in the gardens, or to encourage them when you read their doubts over a cup from a cup of tea. Very much less show care to someone who they punched over a game of darts.)

The mask doesn’t even last a day, really. When it all came crashing down, they figured it wasn’t worth keeping on pretenses. It was better that everyone knew right away for what they were—a liar, a con, send the message that they were someone they should stay as far away from.

It worked for some.

(Being scrutinized by the literature they read, lunging at liars in a game of greed, battling ideologies with their roommate.)

It didn’t for others.

(Honesty and optimism that confuses them, someone who still saw him as a friend even after their lies.)

So. Why?

( Redemption. It begins with quiet apologies: In a text chat, to someone who they got off on the wrong foot with, who they now call their brother-in-arms; on a park bench, showing concern for the one who’d hurt others they cared about. In a kitchen, cooking a meal together, no longer letting the shadows of the past keep them from making amends.)

Why was it that–

(Peace. Moments of stillness: All of them crowded in one room for a sleepover, playing games they haven’t played in many years. Quiet fortune readings, not to fool, but with a genuine desire to help. A conversation with a friend amidst smores.)

They couldn’t stop caring?

(Healing. Tears and vulnerability at multiple points in time. The both of them stumble their way through until all their walls are broken down. Finally learning how to let go of their guilt. Finding peace as they die on a velvet cushion, sacrificing themselves with no regrets.) 

The soul chain starts to slip from Nike’s hands, and they feel themselves being pulled along with it. For a moment, as they struggle with the chain, they hear the ocean current against their ears, bubbling, threatening to drown, but Nike finds that they no longer fear the deep dark blue.

(They feel it, multiple hands reaching out to them. They grab Nike, keeping them from sinking further, and wherever they touch, warmth blooms and breaks through the cold. They lift them out of the waters, and they break the horizon.)

“Alright, you sanctimonious freak of nature—”

Nike pulls their chain inch by inch, a feat that takes every aching muscle in their body to accomplish. There is the sound of metal being dragged, chains piling on the floor, and soon something emerges from the soul rift. 

“—You want a piece of this?”

At the end of the link, an anchor half their size rests at Nike’s feet. 

Grabbing onto the chain, Nike spins the anchor. Using the momentum much like a ball and chain. When it has gained the right velocity, Nike puts all of their weight (the weight of their sins; the weight of their ocean) into their throw. They let out a guttural cry, swinging the anchor at Alou's legs. Regardless of whether it hits or misses, Nike pulls back the anchor so they can strike, again and again, relentless in their pressure. 

All their life, Nikephoras has only ever had things taken from them, but they'll be damned if they didn't fight tooth and nail just when they just got something new to live for.

Not today. Not ever again.

[wistfulcynic]

till we be dead ourselves

I saw a thing today that made me a bit cross and reminded me of how unsatisfying I've always found the Brothers Jones reunion in the underworld. This is the result. It's not anti-Liam but it does change him quite a lot from canon, so if that's not your jam you may want to skip this one.

Basically, this is the Brothers Jones I would have liked to see.

Also, at least part of the inspiration came from chatting with @thesschesthair and @winterbythesea about alternative POVs on our OTP. So here, guys, have a Liam. Beware, there are feels. 

SUMMARY: Liam Jones has been waiting for his brother for three hundred years. When he finally arrives, he's not as Liam remembers. Some not-typical or particularly respectful of canon Brothers-Jones-in-the-underworld feels, plus a dash of Captain Swan.

words: 2025 rating: T tags: not canon compliant, underworld AU, brothers jones. Major characters are already dead. 

on AO3

-

till we be dead ourselves: 

He’s been waiting a long time for this. Three hundred years. 

Well, two hundred ninety-three years and eighty-six days, to be precise. He knows because he looked it up. He had to. It’s not easy keeping track of time here; some seconds tick so slowly they’re torture while years can pass in the blink of an eye. 

Years, such as they are. There aren’t really years in this place, or truly ‘time’ at all. There’s not really anything. This is nothingness, a void, a repository for whatever souls are made of, and different to each one. They’re trapped here, these souls, until they finish whatever business still remains for them, and over the centuries he’s seen so many come and go—some sorrowfully confused by what they need to do, others firmly certain. 

As for Liam Jones, he’s always known why he’s here. His unfinished business is Killian. 

On the day Killian arrives Liam can barely contain his excitement. Not just because he may finally be free of this place but because he longs to see his little brother again. He’s missed Killian, and also he’s keen to know what the devil took him so long. How is it possible that his brother’s life stretched on for over three hundred years? 

He walks quickly through the town—an odd little town, unlike any he encountered while alive. His afterlife has manifested it for only a few years. Before that it was ships and ports and then it was jungle. Ships and jungle, jungle and ships for so very, very long. He’s come to realise that his afterlife reflects what his brother does Above, though what precisely that consisted of he is not privileged to know. He’s hoping Killian will tell him. 

He knocks on the door of a large, blue house and waits, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. When it opens he turns with a smile that freezes on his face. 

The man framed in the doorway is his brother, unmistakably him, yet Liam finds he’s not prepared for how much Killian has changed. He feels foolish for being taken so by surprise; of course Killian is not what he remembers. He’s not still the eager young lieutenant he was when Liam died, obviously not. He couldn’t be. 

But the man before him is… hard. Jaw set and eyes cold, with an aura of both danger and command. A man not to be trifled with. His face is still youngish—mid-thirties, perhaps—but his eyes are ancient. Tired and bitter and heavy with the weight of ages, and abruptly Liam feels very, very young. 

“K-killian?” he ventures. 

Killian’s brow wrinkles in confusion that lasts an uncomfortable beat or two, and then it clears. His eyes widen. “Liam,” he breathes. “Is it really you?” 

“It’s me, brother.” Liam attempts a smile again. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

Killian pulls him into a hug which he returns warmly, though the sound of curse words on his brother’s lips has stunned him. He smells of leather, and of the sea. And rum. Liam blinks through a fresh wave of astonishment. Killian has been drinking. Drinking rum. 

Killian pulls back from the hug but keeps his hand on Liam’s shoulder. His eyes are crinkled by a smile that Liam can’t help noticing barely touches the depth of sadness in them. “It’s good to see you, brother,” he says. 

“You’ve changed,” Liam blurts, then curses his impulsive tongue when the smile fades from his brother’s face. 

“Aye,” Killian says. “It’s been some time.” 

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Liam agrees. “How? How was it that long?” 

“Perhaps you’d better come in, Liam,” Killian says. He steps back and holds the door. “We’ve rather a lot to discuss.” 

-

Liam spends that first night in his brother’s house. Killian seems at a bit of a loss for what to do with himself in all the space and curiously reluctant to speak of why his afterlife has manifested such a dwelling just for him. Of course the dead don’t truly sleep, but Liam passes the night deep in thought, still in shock over what he’s learned about life his brother led. 

Killian is Captain Hook. A pirate. A man whose name Liam has heard in hushed whispers on the lips of many a soul who’s passed through this place. None of those whispers spoke of anything good. 

He cannot reconcile his little brother, even three hundred years of bitter loss and violent struggle later, as the cruel and vengeful villain of those tales. He cannot. It’s simply not possible. 

“Much of what they recounted was likely exaggerated,” Killian said wryly, “or hearsay. But I’ve done much I’m not proud of, Liam. I killed men without a second thought. I plundered lands across the realms. I have not led a good life.” 

“Then why are you here?” Liam demanded. “If you were as bad as all that, you wouldn’t end up in limbo.” 

“Perhaps I may have done enough in the past few years to warrant a chance at redemption,” Killian reflected. “I suppose we’ll see.” 

“And do you know what your unfinished business is?” 

Killian swallowed visibly, then nodded. “I believe I do.” 

-

Over the next week Liam keeps an eye on his brother. It’s not that he’s concerned—well, yes, it is that he’s concerned. There’s a restless energy to Killian that makes Liam uneasy, worried that he might do something rash. So he watches, from a distance, as Killian sets about finishing his business. He watches his brother seek out many of the men who bore the tales about him, those who still remain at least. He sees the fear in those men’s faces, and the anger. Sometimes he hears their voices, raised and vicious. It pains him to witness these things—not least the shame on Killian’s face—but he forces himself not to interfere. 

His brother is not a man to be trifled with. 

One day he observes Killian deep in conversation with a woman, dark-haired and statuesque. They stand close together in the manner of those who’ve shared a deep intimacy, and even from a distance he can see that they are crying. Killian pulls the woman into his arms where she weeps into his shoulder, and before they part he presses his lips to hers. 

It’s farewell. 

With every interaction Killian’s burden lessens, though he remains weighed down by things Liam can barely fathom. Each night they meet at the blue house, where they sit together and talk. They have three hundred years of catching up to do. As they talk Killian drinks, and Liam has begun to as well. He senses his brother could use company in more than conversation, and it’s not like alcohol can harm the dead. It doesn’t do them much good either, but the phantom rum seems to soothe Killian, and loosen his tongue. 

Though not enough, Liam comes to realise, for Killian to speak of why he’s really here. 

-

Her arrival sparks an uproar such as Liam has never experienced, even in all the time he’s passed in this place. She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here. It’s not possible. 

Yet here she is. 

Word of it spreads like wildfire; Liam is polishing glasses at the bar where he inexplicably works when it reaches his ears. 

“They say she’s alive,” says one of the regulars, in hushed tones. “Alive, and here.” 

“That’s impossible,” Liam scoffs. “None of the living can come here. And even if they could why would they want to?” 

“She’s here to rescue someone,” the regular replies. “Her true love. That makes it possible, or so they say.” 

“And the man died in sacrifice,” another adds. “Huge sacrifice, before his time.” 

Before his time, Liam thinks. That should rule Killian out. Yet he can’t shake this feeling, this creeping suspicion born of Killian’s refusal to discuss how he died, or how he lived these past few years. There’s a reason this town is his afterlife, and Liam’s too. There’s a reason he’s alone in that big house. 

He sets the glass down, and the rag. “I have to go,” he says. 

-

It couldn’t be more obvious that the woman doesn’t belong. She’s visibly, ostentatiously alive, so full of life she glows. It draws the souls—ghoulishly, Liam thinks—but none dare approach too closely. The woman looks as though if anyone could kill a soul that’s already dead, it’s her. 

She heads down Main Street and Liam follows. Past the diner and the library, around the corner and up the street where Killian lives. A tight knot forms in Liam’s chest as she walks up to the blue house then stops, with her hand on the gate. 

The door flies open and Killian appears on the porch. He stares at the woman, who offers him a smile that strikes Liam as far too tremulous for her take-no-prisoners demeanour. 

“Swan,” Killian chokes. His voice sounds broken. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to save you,” the woman replies. She opens the gate and takes a few steps forward. Killian stumbles off the porch to close the distance between them. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says. “You shouldn’t be here, not here. Not you.” 

“I had to, Killian!” She looks up at him imploringly. “You shouldn’t have died like that. You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.” 

She takes his hand and laces their fingers tighter. Killian’s breath catches. “Come back with me, Killian. Come home.” 

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“You can. I know a way.” Her voice drops as she steps closer, but Liam can still hear her words. “Don’t try to make me live the rest of my life without you, Killian Jones,” she says. “I won’t do it.” 

“Swan—” 

“I won’t do it,” she repeats. “I love you.” 

Liam can see the moment Killian breaks. He snatches the woman into his arms, holds her tightly as she clings to him and magic twines palpably around them. This is not what he had with the brunette, Liam realises. That was love, yes, and intimacy. It was grief, deep and terrible but of a normal sort. 

This is agony. This is two souls that should never have been parted and the connection that still binds them, so powerful it can draw a living woman into the land of the dead. 

No wonder Killian couldn’t speak of her, Liam thinks, or of the circumstances of his death. The pain must have been too great. 

Liam’s been dead so long he’s forgotten how sensitive a subject it can be. 

The man died in sacrifice, he recalls. Huge sacrifice, before his time. 

He died for her. And now she’s here to bring him back. 

-

“This feels too soon,” Killian says, as he hugs Liam tight. “I only just found you again.” He pulls back and gives his brother a shrewd look. “And I sense that when I’m here again, you no longer will be.” 

“No,” Liam agrees. His business is finished now. And Killian’s not coming back, not to this place. Not if Emma Swan has anything to say about it. The next time Killian Jones dies it will be with his life’s purpose fully met. 

He’s glad they had this time, though, and not just because he needed it to move on. He’s glad he got to know his brother as a man, a flawed and troubled one, yes, but one who has goodness at his core and is finally where he needs to be. It only took three hundred years for him to get there. 

He’s also glad Killian is still shorter than he is, for all that Liam appears ten years younger than his brother now. He’s glad because he can still wrap his arm around Killian’s neck and ruffle his hair. He does so now, though Killian’s indignant “Oi!” of protest twists his heart. He sounds so like his younger self, that boy Liam spent centuries waiting for and will never see again. 

“I love you, little brother,” he whispers. 

Killian swallows hard, and nods. “I love you too.” 

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: move on

i’ve been meaning to write this for a while and finished it during a much needed spurt of inspiration - yay!

summary: missing scene from titans 3.08. dick returns from the hospital to the manor, battered physically and mentally. gar finds him.

warnings: big honking SPOILERS for titans 3.08. deals heavily with dick’s canonical mental health issues, including hallucinations.

move on

The manor is quiet when Dick comes back from the hospital; he’s not sure where the others are gone, but he thinks that Gar is still in the batcave. He’s noticed that Gar spends almost all of his time down there these days, from having his meals there to taking catnaps in between obsessively researching on the batcomputer. Dick knows that it’s not a terribly healthy situation, but he’s not sure how Gar would react to that opinion coming from him. It occurs to him that he can’t be a leader and a Bat at the same time, but that level of self-awareness is too much for him to process right now, so he lets the thought go.

For now, he relishes this rare moment of peace. Late afternoon sunlight slants in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the silence is like a blanket over the sharp edges of the near-constant state of crisis that Dick and his team have been in the last week or two. Dick doesn’t have any immediate lead to follow as far as Jason or the Scarecrow is concerned, and… it’s okay. He’ll get back on that after a minute.

Just… a minute.

He’s got a headache to worry about, for starters: the doctor who discharged him told him it was a ‘mild concussion’ but that seems to be underselling the way his head throbs insistently like there’s someone in there jabbing his brain with a pickaxe, or the way his vision blurs without warning, or how the mere thought of food is enough to make his gorge rise. His chest twinges with every inhale and exhale, both from cracked ribs and the just-starting-to-heal bullet wound. Exhaustion seeps into every pore of his body in the wake of too much adrenaline and too much stress in too short a time, and it makes his joints ache and his skin burn.

And, oh. He’s hallucinating. Again. He thinks about the script for antipsychotics he has tucked somewhere in his bathroom cabinet, but choosing between taking them or just powering through with no treatment is a bit like a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea: not being completely in touch with reality could turn out to be a liability on the field, but he knows from experience that meds take a long time to get used to, and he can’t afford to be drowsy or stiff while jumping off buildings and leading a team of superheroes. 

So… the hallucinations are just there, and he manages. He thinks about talking about them with Leslie, but again… too much to process. He’s not sure he has the vocabulary to talk about them or the feelings they engender. Alexithymia, Leslie might say. Who knows.

He’s sunk enough into the plush leather sofa in the living room that he feels enveloped by it, warm for the first time since scarfing down a burger last night while talking to Barbara and Kory. He even imagines that he can smell Bruce’s cologne, and the thought creates a pang in his chest. He misses Bruce. Even when he ran away, even when he thought he hated and resented Bruce with every fibre of his being, there was something reassuring about searching for Gotham news on his phone and seeing amateur clips of Batman foiling some nefarious thing or the other scattered across his social media feed. Hell, he’d even settle for hallucinating Bruce now, as caustic and knife-tongued as he can be. The complete radio silence is unnerving.

(The prospect of him never leaving Gotham again is much worse.)

“Dick?”

Gar’s voice startles Dick, and he snaps his eyes open (when did he close them/?). A fresh bolt of pain ricochets in his chest at the sudden motion, and Dick leans forward and hisses. 

“Sorry!” Gar says quickly. He’s standing in front of Dick, a little closer than before, his hands up like he wanted to touch Dick but stopped himself from doing so at the last minute. “You okay?”

Dick nods. If the movement makes his vision wobble for a second, well, it’s not like he or Gar can do anything about it right now, can they? “I took a bit of a spill but I’m okay.”

“Yeah, Commissioner Gordon called,” Gar says, “and she said you nearly died.”

Dick spreads his arms. “A little banged up but in one piece and ready to go. The accident wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

He watches Gar chew his lip and look at him sceptically. Dick misses when Gar would act like Dick hung the moon, hanging onto his every word and following him without question. He’s done so much to shatter that trust and innocence that he’s lucky that Gar’s sticking with him at all; it’s so similar to what he thought Bruce did to him that--

No. No. Still can’t process thoughts like that. His brain is fried until this crisis is done and dusted.

(that’s when you usually throw yourself into the next crisis)

Gar sighs. “You know, Dick, we’ve got all hands on deck here. It’s ok to take a break to give yourself time to heal.”

He looks tired, Dick thinks. He doesn’t remember the last time his team had to unwind, to relax and be themselves without racing against the clock to prevent some catastrophe or the other. He’d tried to schedule weekly movie nights back in San Francisco and tried to take Gar and Conner out as much as he could, but he was always… aware of this barrier between them, the way he couldn’t get their wires to align enough to connect, no matter how hard he tried. He loves them, and knows that they love him too, but no matter how hard he works to deserve that love, he’s afraid that he’ll never succeed, and so terribly, terribly afraid that they’ll realise this and leave him for good.

(The only barrier is that stick up your ass, Hank would say to all of this, and the thought, unbidden, is so much more painful than his cracked ribs or his concussed brain that Dick takes the thought and the ocean of grief it’s floating on and crams it into its dedicated box inside his head before he can break down.)

Dick sets his jaw and gets up from the (warm, warm) couch and shrugs his jacket on. “I’m healing,” he says, “and we’ll all have time to sleep once we can stop whatever Crane’s doing and get a hold of Jason.” He turns to get his phone just as he’s putting his arm in the jacket sleeve, and it’s a mistake: the pain is like a vise around his ribcage, stealing his breath, and he stumbles. Gar is quick to catch him, and they both stand like that for a long moment while Dick catches his breath.

“Dick,” Gar says, and Dick can hardly stand the softness in that word, the familiarity, the sorrow. It’s too much. He can’t deal with this right now. He needs to focus.

He gently shrugs off Gar’s hold. Behind Gar, Dick-as-a-little-boy cocks his head at him, wide eyes blinking like an owl.

“You got any updates on Jason?”

Gar steps back, takes a deep breath. He looks resigned for a moment, then determined. “As a matter of fact,” he says, “I do.”

[killuaisaprincess]

ocean blues

summary: 

"You're really pretty, Killua."

Killua’s breath is snatched right away from his lungs again as if he's being pushed underwater once more. His sunburned cheeks, pale red in hue, changing like the sunset to bright red, his brilliant blue eyes darting down.

"I-"

He isn't. Not at all. He isn't attractive like Gon. Gon with his bright smile, his little dimples, his dumb hair, that looks way too stupidly good down and wet like this. Pretty. That wasn't a word to describe Killua at all... his vampire pale skin, skin marred with scars, his dumb, stupid hair that always poofs up even when he combs it..

Gon's fingers press into the skin near his cheek, lightly, so careful to not touch where he was burnt by the sun. Sunscreen only helped so much with a complexion as fair as his.

"Killua. I meant what I said earlier. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

♥*♡∞:｡.｡　　｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Geez... for someone so insistent on coming to the beach Gon Freecss was sure taking his sweet ass time.

Killua had ended up situated at the beach house located near the far back of the beach, resting on the wooden porch. It was open to the public, so he had no worries of getting yelled at. Speaking of, boy, was he ever going to yell Gon's ear off when he got here...

The soles of his feet just scrap against the sand, one leg swung over the other, his elbow resting on his knee, his chin against his open palm. He lets out a huge sigh, inhaling the ocean breeze, salty, a little wet, and calming in a way.

His free hand taps at the wood impatiently, blue eyes narrowing. Gon must be packing an entire fucking suitcase of stuff with how long he's taking. All Killua has is was what he has on. A sunhat made of straw, with a beautiful deep royal blue bow in the back, a white tank top and white trunks, and... a white jacket with a neon-bright light blue zipper over the tank top.

All to protect him from the beating sun... and stares...

He wasn't like Gon with his gorgeous skin-kissed skin; he was all sickly and pale looking...

"Killlluuuuuaaaaa!"

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive. Killua stands up, a hand falling to his hip, glaring holes at the figure approaching. The very easy-to-spot figure with the ridiculous green trunks and turtle floatie hanging around his left arm.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to take so long!"

Gon presses his palms together, closing one eye and attempting to look sorry, too bad he doesn't in the least! Not to Killua...

"Stupiddddd! Next time I'll just ditch you and go someplace else!"

Gon lets out an awkward, nervous laugh stepping up onto the dock, making Killua back up slightly.

"Did you put on sunscreen?"

A strong hand goes to grab his thin pale wrist, his sleeves not reaching quite that far, pink brushing across his cheeks.

Gon peers up at him before staring at his wrist once more, as if he could magically tell if Killua put on sunscreen or not by staring long enough...

Not like he's the same damm color as the thing...

"I don't want you to get hurt. You're so pale."

Geez. Thanks for the obvious observation, Sherlock Holmes. Might as well call him Watson... but his heart picks up in pace for some reason when Gon looks at him with those caramel eyes all full of concern.

"S-shut up! Do you think I'm stupid?"

Killua snatches his hand back, his ears burning as Gon stares dumbly before jumping off the porch, grinning.

"Nope! I guess not!"

Killua stares at him, incredulously going to step down himself before a hand is offered to him.

H-Huh? Did Gon think that was deep? It was like a tiny step down. He just got down on his own perfectly well! What's with this?

He's stuck staring at a row of brilliant pearly whites, all straight minus one canine on the left upper side that sticks further out. It's endearing, like everything about Gon, and how can Killua say no to that smile... it sort of... feels warm. This feeling.

He grasps Gon's offered hand with a puff of air and shy mumbled word of gratitude, stepping down, the warmth of the sand almost scalding hot. He sort of regrets not wearing flip-flops now... how was Gon perfectly okay?

Gon grins, slowly letting go and dashing ahead.

Killua follows. Albeit, very, very slowly.

—

They get closer to the shore of the beach, and turns out the reason Gon was taking so long was that he had been setting up a small nice little resting area. Complete with two umbrellas and two towels. Killua takes his hat off and places it under his towel.

Gon carefully places a book of some sort on top of it, so it doesn't get blown away, saying how it looked really pretty on Killua. Something Killua chooses to ignore. His cheeks flush every color of pink and red in the dictionary, but he just scoffs, looking away with a retort on how Gon's embarrassing. Which he is!

Still, it didn't mean anything. What Gon says that is. He likely says the same thing to his aunt and everyone, really. Killua's isn't special... if only his heart would realize that too and stop pounding so hard.

—

"Killua? Aren't you going to take that off? It'll get wet."

Gon points to his jacket, and Killua's heart stops beating, and he forgets how to breathe.

He can't say no to Gon...

Thin fingers grasp the edges of his jacket with an iron grip, shakily moving down to tug the zipper down, slipping one side off, then the next, letting it drop into the sand.

Shame burns in his chest, across his creased brow, the tilt of his neck down. His neck tinted red, alongside his cheeks and near his sternum. All in shame.

He doesn't want to wait for the comments. A dry chuckle choked past lips.

"Creepy, right?" Black and blue marring his arms, silver-like scars long healed. It was just how it is. He wouldn't learn any other way...

Killua leans down to pick up his jacket, his throat constricting, a lump crawling up and clawing at his throat, fire burning in his eyes, tears building up.

"No!"

...Huh?

Killua refuses to look up, slowly grasping at the cloth.

"I don't think that! At all! I think you're the most pretty thing I've ever seen!"

Killua slowly slips the jacket back on, refusing to look up, chewing on his bottom lip.

You're just saying that.

It's sweet, Gon. Thanks.

"Ah! Well! I mean! It just proves how beautiful and strong you are! On the inside and out!"

A small laugh spills from his lips, his heart skipping a beat.

What a dumbass.

"But not anymore! You don't have to be strong! I mean! 'Cause I'm here!"

Stupid. ...What does that even mean?

Killua looks up, Gon's arms stretched out, a sheepish grin across those childish but strong features. His heart may have skipped a beat again...

If not for how ridiculous Gon looks, saying it all wearing bright-green trunks with a turtle floatie over his arm, a turtle floatie that was clearly manufactured wrong with its beady black eyes and giant head.

Killua bursts out laughing.

—

Gon is already waist-deep in the water by the time Killua reaches the shore of the ocean, staring down at the murky water. The sand squishes between his toes, the waves washing over the tops of his feet. It's cold, but that's not really what bothers him. Below the surface, he catches glimpses of green wavy seaweed. He sucks in a breath, a furrow to his light brows obscured by his curly locks that shift with the movement.

"Killua! What's taking so long?"

Gon's voice draws him from his stupor, looking up to see the dumbass hadn't moved at all, waving his hand to signal Killua.

"Geez! You have no patience, idiot!"

He snaps to play it off, eyeing the seafloor once more, taking a slow step forward, his breath hitching. Blue eyes shifting up to see the progress he has made. Except he's greeted by those warm caramel eyes, golden specks and all, and almost falls back on his ass.

"G-Gon!"

Spluttering, he stumbles back. When had he gotten back over?!

Gon tilts his head, bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

"Welll, you were taking soooooo long! Ah! Plus, I remembered! You don't like slimy things, right?"

Sheesh... he thought Gon only had a pile of bricks for a brain, but the idiot seemed to be pretty perceptive...

"Gon. I'm not scared of a little-AH!"

Gravity is torn from him, and a scream he doesn't want to admit is his escapes from his lips, fingers clawing blindly.

"You're being silly, Kill~u~a! I'll just carry you across!"

He's the one being silly?! Why you...

Ah... carry him...

Reality slowly sets in; he had been clawing at Gon...

Gon... is...

Wading into the water with ease like Killua weighs no more than a feather, a strong arm hooked under his knee, his other hand resting on his back. Humming. God, kill Killua now. Take his heart and plunge it into the sea... his face is on fire, and he can't tell if it's from the sun or Gon... they are basically one and the same.

—

Gon stops his trudge through the water and sand, looking over at the floatie still over his arm and then him... Sheesh, Killua knew this idiot didn't think this through... Killua's fine, though... he can handle a little seaweed. He goes to tell Gon to put him down, but the dumbass has other ideas. He grins, looking over at Killua apologetically.

"Sorry! One sec, Killua!"

"Huh?"

Killua is moved in an instant; he isn't even sure what happened. Just the sudden swirl of the world, the momentum making his head spin. His nose is now almost touching the water. He's over Gon's shoulder.

But... but... this warmth of Gon's hand...

Is. On. His. Ass!

This idiot! Who the hell holds someone over the shoulder by their assets?! He wants to die. His face is burning, and does this idiot even know? Killua can feel him fidgeting around to drop the floatie off.

"Sorry, Killua... I promise that's not what I was aiming for!"

Forgot it! Stop! Don't acknowledge it! This is way worse! He groans, burying his burning face in his hands. Gon sounding sheepish isn't helping how lightheaded he feels either.

"I don't want to drop you now."

Just drop him!

Luckily, he's spared of further embarrassment when Gon swiftly flips him over like he weighs as much as a rag doll, his arm resting under his knees again, the other near his shoulder.

Killua slowly peels his fingers away from his face, refusing to acknowledge the faint pink across Gon's cheeks.

"Up you go!"

Gon gently adjusts his movements, placing Killua up onto the floatie to the best of his given ability.

Killua would be lucky to drown in the water at this point, sinking into the hole in the floatie, his thighs touching the cold water.

God, or should he say, Gon, always has other plans...

He gives Killua a toothy grin, kicking his legs to gain momentum. One hand is placed on each side of the floatie. Killua can only suppress a groan, gritting his teeth and digging his nails into the rubber as Gon starts to move him around on the float with great speed. It's a miracle he doesn't pop the damm thing.

—

The force eventually sends him flying. He's submerged in water with a painful splash, running from his skull to his fingertips and aching in his back. Water runs into his nose, burning, eyes stinging with the salt from the water. It pushes into his lips; the taste is almost as bad as the feel, his limbs pushing against the harsh waves, desperate to reach the surface. A hand snags around his waist before he can collect himself, adjust to the water, and tugs him out.

The air hits his lungs, the light blinding, and his nose still burning. He coughs a few times to dislodge any water from his lungs. Wiping his now wet sleeves over his eyes, slowly tugging his forearm away, staring back at huge concerned puppy dog eyes.

"Killua! Are you okay?"

Killua brings his left arm up, wiping under his nose, sniffing.

"Yeah, I just got water up my nose, don't worry, stupid."

Gon seems to visibly relax, his hand still on Killua's waist, which the younger is desperately trying to ignore.

Gon's other hand touches the water's surface and moves, pausing mid-air for a second. He brushes his fingers near Killua's reddened cheeks, moving up and pushing a wet strand of hair behind the other's ear.

"You're really pretty, Killua."

Killua's breath is snatched right away from his lungs again as if he's being pushed underwater once more. His sunburned cheeks, pale red in hue, changing like the sunset to bright red, his brilliant blue eyes darting down.

"I-"

He isn't. Not at all. He isn't attractive like Gon. Gon with his bright smile, his little dimples, his dumb hair, that looks way too stupidly good down and wet like this. Pretty. That wasn't a word to describe Killua at all... his vampire pale skin, skin marred with scars, his dumb, stupid hair that always poofs up even when he combs it...

Gon's fingers press into the skin near his cheek, lightly, so careful to not touch where he was burnt by the sun. Sunscreen only helped so much with a complexion as fair as his.

"Killua. I meant what I said earlier. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He darts his eyes up to stare just a second. Determination, endearment, everything was shinning in those eyes of Gon's... his heart starts to pound in his chest, he's afraid Gon might hear it.

Gon leans in unbearably close; he can feel his breath tickling his skin, Gon may be breathing, but he's forgotten how.

Lips brush up against his gently, the taste salty, the feeling warm, lasting only a mere second but washing away all of Killua's anxieties.

Gon beams at him, tugging his hand away slowly, letting his fingers run through Killua's sopped hair.

"Let's go back. I'll carry you again, so you don't have to walk through the seaweed!"

His face burns, and he splashes Gon with water, averting his eyes.

"S-stupid!"

In an endearingly lovable way... but he doesn't think he has to tell Gon that, the teen's grin as bright as the sun in the sky.

Really... he is... stupid.

[jaydicksummerexchange]

JAYDICK EXCHANGE: SEPTEMBER 3

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

SECOND TO LAST DAY OF THE JAYDICK EXCHANGE!

Why the second to last instead of the last? That’s because we’ve reached 114 Exchange works for 2020! The more treats get added, the more we time we add to our juicy cabooses and keep the exchange train rolling. Until Saturday that is. Tomorrow is the final posting date, and we’ll reveal the wonderful participants on September 5 no matter what. 

Here are today’s releases!

Claws by anonymous for solomonara [ART, Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: FanartHurt/Comfort, Injured Jason, Secret Identity, dick's teams don't know the red hood's identity, dick's harem of morally ambiguous older men, dick: he's not older, dick: wait i mean he's not my villain boyfriend, dick: damn it

Summary: Dick takes the Red Hood to a Titan safehouse after an injury. Explanations are expected.

Learning To Love The Fall by anonymous for 3isme [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Fanart, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Mechanic Jason Todd, Plane Pilot Dick Grayson

Summary:  It's the early 1900s and the country of Gotham is recovering from a long war.

Trying to get a better life, Jason Todd has been moonlighting as an underground plane mechanic for illegal aeroplane racers, getting a cut of whatever the pilot wins. After one particular competition, he's accused of sabotage and, despite his protests, forced into deeper debt. At the end of his rope, he runs into Dick Grayson, ex-ace of the Gotham Air Force and supposed dead man. The war hero was supposed to have been shot down near the end of the war. Regardless, this pilot is the best chance Jason has to grab hold of that better life, and he's not going to let it go.

The Still and Quiet Surface by anonymous for TheWayneManner [FIC, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Gift Fic, Ficlet

Summary: Dick leaves the sea behind and never looks back.

Scents & Sensibility by anonymous for Nitrojen [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fae, References to Jane Austen, although the writer has a pretty dark secret concerning our dear friend jane, Getting to Know Each Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Prompt - Something along the lines of the Princess and the Pea. It can be A/B/O, modern, fantasy, or even something that takes place in canon where there's some kind of curse. Have fun with it! 

Give It A Shot (of espresso) by anonymous for morimaiter [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, Barista Jason Todd, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Sexual Tension, JayDick Summer Exchange, very minor injury, art included

Summary: Dick was one of their regulars. And yes, that was his real name. The first time he’d asked Jason to write it on his cup Jason had given him a death glare until the man had whipped out a driver’s license to prove it. ‘Richard John Grayson’, printed right there. It hadn’t been an innuendo after all, just an unfortunate choice of nickname. He came into Gotham Grinders (and hell if Jason hadn’t heard enough innuendos about that name to make up for any lack of innuendo in Dick’s own) every Tuesday and Friday, which happened to always be Jason’s shifts. Every time he asks for some new over-the-top order, and every time without fail he also asks for Jason’s digits. Jason replies every time with:

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t give out personal information to customers. Will that complete your order?” 

(Fic + Art)

Lazy Days by anonymous for BehindTheRobinsMask [ART, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Married Life, Married Couple, Established Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Literal Sleeping Together, Lazy Mornings, Domestic Fluff, Fanart

Summary:  It's the weekend! Jason and Dick sleep in after a long night on the streets.

Taken in the Butt by the Gay Vigilante Acro-Bird by anonymous for solomonara [ART, Teen, No Warnings,  JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Romance Novel, Cover Art, Jason Todd is an Author, Partial Nudity, Birds, Vintage Gay Pulp Novels, Chuck Tingle-Adjacent, Please Forgive me, FanartDigital Art, JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: The Red Hood has a secret: he's a part-time romance novelist.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea by anonymous for stribird (timidGoddess) [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Self-Doubt, Lazarus Pit, Panic Attacks, Established Relationship, Bad Decisions, Romantic Fluff, Amnesia, Broken Promises, Road Trips, On the Run

Summary: Jason couldn’t do that. He could never forget what Dick meant to him. Which is why he had to bring his Bluebird back. Which is why he had to remind Dick of everything that he had lost.

Even if that meant forcing him into the Lazarus Pit. Even if it meant cursing him in the process.

tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef, that i'm a vegetarian (and i ain't fucking scared of him) by anonymous for prompt_fills [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Protective Damian Wayne, POV Damian Wayne, Batman: Reborn, Jason Todd has a Heart, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Dick Grayson is Batman, Mutual Pining, enemies to idiots to lovers, Misunderstandings, Damian Wayne Plays Therapist, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, My Continued Mocking of Tim Drake (it's loving i swear), Donna Troy is a goddess and no one deserves her, My love for Donna Troy is so strong that I projected it onto Damian and I am not sorry, Unbetaed we die like Jason Todd refuses to, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jealous Jason Todd, Pining Dick Grayson, BAMF Donna Troy AND MORE

Summary: It had taken a few weeks for Damian’s ill-fated hopes for the more platonic explanation of Grayson’s unseemly conduct regarding Todd to expire because Damian (unlike Drake) is not an idiot (and Brown had prattled on about every instance of very clearly not platonically fueled tension, slowly crushing Damian’s remaining hopes for Richard’s taste in romantic partners). Denial, heavenly as he has now known it to be, can only take one so far. And as a pragmatist and the grandson of the great Ra’s al Ghul and son of the great Bruce Wayne, he assesses the situation from a logical perspective, free of any emotions clouding his impeccable judgment, and comes up with a solution that benefits both himself and Grayson.

Jason Todd must die.

Or the story of how Damian Wayne became the number one shipper of JayDick and is not at all happy about it.

Si solo fueras tú by anonymous for fallogory [ART, Gen, Creator Chose No Warnings, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fanart, Kid Dick Grayson, Adult Dick Grayson, Kid Jason Todd, Adult Jason Todd, King Bruce Wayne, Prince Damian Wayne, Prince Dick Grayson, Poor Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jealous Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug

Summary: Blue came first

Then Green arrives

Then Blue meet Red

And Green hate that

Or where Dick was Bruce's bastard child who was forced to lived like a prince until Damian's born and meet someone who make his world be upside down.

the smell of cold stone by anonymous for abcission [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Dick Grayson, Autumn, American Football, College Football, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, referenced Jason/Kyle, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Past Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, past dick grayson/wally west - Freeform, implied Roy/Kory, implied Roy/Wally, implied Donna/Kyle, future besties Jason and Roy, Roy's eternal crush on Donna, frat boy Dick, Fluff

Summary: Their eyes meet on the quad one day; he’ll probably never see the frat boy again, but he’ll be nice fodder for Jason’s dreams at least.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Well. In light of the recent vanessa fic, I am going to request a few things. How about Helena going to MC's high school reunion?

WARNINGS: Intolerable sexist arseholes Referenced rape culture Blood and minor violence Written by: @evoedbd ******************************************

“Helena… my feet hurt.” Kya’s soft, plaintive voice rung like gunshots in Helena’s ears. To hear that Kya was in pain caused a war of sensations within the Sorceress, turning her chest into a battlefield as she aimed to pick out her own thoughts amidst the din. The music was too loud. All pulsing beats and pop hits that all bled into one another in an unpleasant screech. With all the beauty Kya’s people could capture, the fact they abused that power to capture such meaningless garble was bad enough, but the songs that Helena’s ears had picked out went beyond this. The images of men taking what they pleased, or endlessly fucking hoes and capping foes… it set her teeth on edge. Why would anybody wish to put a cap on someone they disliked so much? It was absolutely beyond her. After all, she had seen the selfishness of humanity. She had seen people who would do precisely what the songs fantasized about. She had been one of those prizes. The pet. The mess left behind once a tyrant had finished with her for the night. She had been the violated girl dragging herself across the floors because she couldn’t walk, trailing blood. Why did some of Kya’s people find this concept worth celebrating? How many even knew what they danced to? “Helena?” This time, Kya’s voice was pleading. A gentle touch to Helena’s ravaged senses. This was accompanied by the lightest touch to her forearm, fingertips begging for more yet restraining themselves until Helena gave consent. The Sorceress had to close her eyes, to stop watching and picture a much calmer place. An open field, filled with flowers that had no name, not in this world. Flowers woven through black hair, accompanying laughter that became wings for Helena’s soul. She didn’t particularly want to open her eyes to the gyrating crowds. Around her, she could feel a thousand candles, each flickering in time with the sea of sorry, middle-aged bodies awkwardly trying to reclaim their youth. All dressed in finery above their means as they tried to convince everyone of their success and happiness, even as they reeked of misery. An ocean of people, all smiling politely whilst firing knives from their tongue, shooting daggers from their eyes. Alcohol flowing a little too freely, too dangerously. Control, so willingly abandoned. It was as if none of them knew its value. As if none of these people had ever seen or experienced control torn away completely, until even the breath a body took was at another’s whim. Then there were the lights. A spinning ball reflected everything, casting a thousand fragments of light across the floor, growing larger as they grew further from the centre. Spinning chaos across the wooden floors, illuminating the deep blue lighting, catching in the mist across the dancing masses. An unnatural mist summoned by machines… and Kya said her people possessed no magic. “Helena… are you with me?” The longing to answer hit her harder than a boulder from a catapult against a crumbling castle wall. Gods, how she wanted to open her eyes and find only one person before her. Yet, she was surrounded; drowning in the sea of bodies as the unnatural mist lapped at her ankles. As elbows collided with her, or fingers nipped at the bottom of her hair like vultures testing the fight left in their meat. Her heart pounded, beating against the cage of her chest much like how her magic pulsed with her fears. Limbs tingled; fingers began to move on instinct. Then, warmth. So much warmth. Enough that she gasped. Instantly, her lungs filled with air; her nose with that delicious mix she had never quite learned. Something soft, something smoky and then a hint of spice. Always, it was sweet. So very, very intoxicatingly sweet… but not sugary. The underlying bitterness of coffee tempered sweetness so deliciously that Helena found herself devoured by her craving for that scent. A second inhale gave her more, slowly begun to redirect her roaming senses to a singular focus. It was enough for her to open her eyes. “Welcome back.” A kind voice fell from naked lips. The smile upon them was small, nothing intended for the world to see. A secret amidst the crowd, the last life jacket on the Titanic. Just seeing it was enough for Helena to be saved. Shining grey eyes accompanied that encouraging little smile. Adoration glistened in beautiful grey depths, outshining the tinges of concern playing flecks in bluestone. In the swirling lights and dulled room, stone was more akin to gems than cobble, captivating Helena’s attention for far longer than society deemed polite. She could care less. Museums held marble statues of deities past, depictions of Aphrodite to stare at for hours. Marble was incomparable to the greys, Aphrodite a hag compared to the graceful woman donning such a flowing black dress. Elegance in its purest simplicity. “As if I could ever be parted from you.” Helena gave her best attempt at a purr. It was effective, given the creep of pink over Kya’s pale cheeks. Pale, not bloodless, Helena reminded herself. Bloodless was danger. It was the colour Kya had gone after the Queen’s spell struck her. It was the colour Kya had been when the Queen held a blade to her throat, when the Queen tormented Helena into confessing every pain, tried to make Sorceress scream and kneel. Tried to break her. Bloodless was the Witch Queen leering over a terrified girl, or ordering her most loyal man to ensure said girl was prepared… Helena flinched. Faster than Helena could blink, Kya’s hands left her, gathering in front of said woman’s chest. Kya held her hands there patiently, as if they were to be bound. Somehow, the speed and implications of such a gesture did not spark further fear within Helena, did not reignite the painful memories lapping at the edge of her consciousness. How such gestures could be made soft and welcoming, appealing even, still befuddled her. Flummoxed, her breath caught, even as Kya spoke. “Helena, I’m going to grab your tie, ok? I won’t pull, and my hands won’t move until I know you are ok. If you need to grab me, that’s ok. I know you won’t hurt me. We can just sway.” “The music is too upbeat for such a slow dance.” Came Helena’s rebuttal, even as her body moved to follow Kya’s suggestion. Cautiously, she gathered Kya into her chest, holding the otherworldly beauty there as if the world might snatch her away. Beneath Helena’s pale skin magic simmered. It heated her veins, writhing and bubbling like serpents of heated tar. She could feel the sparks escaping her control, trapped between her skin and her silken black button up. Kya had expressed her appreciation for Helena’s suit, several times, yet Helena had not seen the appeal until just now. The darkness of her shirt slimmed her down a little, whilst also concealing the fact she was sweating bullets. Her turquoise suit jacket was cut to perfection, emphasising both the strength of her shoulders and her feminine curves, without drawing attention to an overly generous bust. The matching pants fit her like a second skin, showing off impossibly long legs right to heels which meant business. Not only did they elevate her above the heads of many men, they also screamed womanly power. That she could, and would, step on any fool who crossed her path. Then, there was her crisp white tie… the very tie currently embraced between Kya’s gentle fingers. “Who cares about the music? We make our own rules, babe, always have. This was meant to be something fun, Helena. I didn’t think it’d be like this. I just thought it’d be romantic. Like going to prom with my soulmate, instead of some boy who expected me to finish the night on the backseat of his car.” “That boy dare-“ “He didn’t try to physically force me. He was confused as to why I wouldn’t, tried to convince me verbally, but he never laid a hand on me. He wasn’t a bad person, just an ignorant one. He was influenced by the wrong people. He actually wrote me an apology. It doesn’t makes my memory of prom the best.” “Yeah, had a bitch, but she ain’t bad as you. So hit me up when you passing through. I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two” “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Kya exploded, her wrath erupting in an enraged shout. Her voice carried, drawing countless gazes to the human embodiment of furious flames about to claim their penance. Kya’s entire body trembled, almost as if her growls were causing her to vibrate, and her cheeks took on a hue often associated with a devil. The fire in her eyes seemed poised to devour the world in its search for vengeance, yet Kya tempered it to three precise culprits. Three large men, all crowding around an uncomfortable-looking DJ who cringed as the song continued to play across a stagnant dance floor. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the music, dyke?” The first man sneered, his voice grating from between crooked teeth. His mates laughed, playfully jabbing him in his well-padded arms, hooting their drunken approval. His large belly jiggled as he laughed. Helena’s eye was drawn to his shirt, specifically the valiant efforts of a single thread stretched between a disconnected button and said shirt. “You’ve been playing rape culture bullshit for over half an hour. Do you even know what half of this shit means? Slip her a Molly? That is roofies! Drugging a woman’s drink to sleep with her, cause that’s totally sexy. That Nirvana song? It is literally about a rape victim. Did you idiots even stop to think that some people here might have gone through that?” Kya’s accusations were sharp, to the point, a jab of a blade straight to the ribcage. “We thought it was setting the mood. Isn’t your bitch DTF? She looks the type.” The second man taunted, giving a poor attempt at a suggestive wiggle of his brows. This man appeared more in shape, lithe, with the veins standing stark beneath his muscles. However, the stench of alcohol was only smothered by the copious amounts of noisme body spray he stained his wrinkled shirt with. “This isn’t the 1800s, dude. Women have the right to get married and be together outside of a Pornhub video.” Kya’s tone dropped along with her brows, her expression challenging, daring the men to come up with a retort worthy of her. “It isn’t rape if the bitch wants it.” The third man jeered. Unlike his counterparts, he appeared clean and put together, something Helena might have even called attractive before he opened his mouth. A good-looking man, ruined by his horrific mouth or corrupt by the company he kept. “What happened to you three? How can you be so cruel as to deliberately target someone just for existing? I know you’ve been watching us and noticed Helena’s reactions.” Kya’s words struck Helena to the core. Suddenly everything made too much sense. How the songs had seemed to only get worse and worse, their violations and sexist attitude more crudely represented. More stark. How the music had steadily grown louder and louder, until their sounds had burned into Helena’s consciousness. Until they became shadows which she could not be free of. Shadows where leering eyes hid, a pride of lions or a pack of wolves slowly circling their prey. What she had dismissed as a trickle of sweat down her back now stood out, an instinctual twinge, a warning. One she had not taken heed of. It left her wondering, was anywhere truly safe for her aside from Kya’s arms? Even in this strange new world, where nobody knew her crimes, she found herself persecuted. Had coming here truly been the new start she believed it to be? Or had she just fled her own insecurity into a pit of newer, wiser vipers whilst she played catch up for over thirty years of missing knowledge? “This is America, we have the right to listen to what we want.” “You have a constitutional right not to be a colossal dick.” Kya fired back without pause. This earned several snickers from around the room at the man’s expense. She wasn’t done, not even close. Kya continued, launching into a scolding with enough disgust in her tone to cow the watching crowds. “After everything she has done for this damn country, hell, the world, she deserves ONE night without some douchebags throwing shit at her. All we wanted was to come and have a lovely night out, not cop sexual harassment from a failed security guard, an alcoholic and a walking advertisement for how not to be a man all trying to relive their high school glory days.” “What? She got bored of servicing all the real men and went for her own bitch to boss around instead?” The second man taunted, snickering loudly at Kya’s repulsed expression. The expression was barely a flicker on the way to a smile. No, a smile implied genuine joy and happiness. Kya’s expression was something far darker. Ink dropped into water, sinking to the bottom of the glass. Purity tainted by malicious intent. Helena internally flinched. That expression was unlike anything she had seen from Kya before, save when Kya dealt with the Queen. It was the closest Kya could ever come to such wickedness; the closest Helena could bare to see her fall. “Oh I get it now. This is about your inferiority complex that no woman as gorgeous as Helena would want to be within ten feet of you unless it was to deliver a restraining order.” Kya’s voice was so calm, so crisp and clear, yet somehow a sneer. Something that even the Witch Queen could never truly pull off. It all happened so fast. Faster than Helena could even react. One moment, Kya was snarling in the face of some asshole, the next he had reached out in a sloppy attempt to smack her. Kya was faster. In a blink, she had grabbed the man’s wrist, grip unyielding, stepped into his space and twisted her body. Just like Helena had taught her. The man went plummeting to the ground in a flurry of ill-fitting formalwear and disgusting body spray. The collision was bone-jarring, filling the room with an audible thud. Before anybody could do anything more than gasp, the third man launched at Kya’s exposed back. Helena’s heart leapt into her throat, her magic burning beneath her skin in preparation to unleash. It was a pointless endeavour. Kya moved naturally, as fluidly as a trickling stream with the passion of a dancer and the heart of a knight. Her elbow came up, driven into the man’s nose without a moment of hesitation. He too fell, left with only his hands to try and still the raging current of blood pouring between his trembling fingers. His hands desperately palmed the broken mass of his nose, which made his cries sound wet and gargling. A second strike, a vicious kick to his groin, ensured he would not be getting up again. Helena arched a brow. That was not something she had taught Kya. “How?” The most rotund of the three questioned, wisely keeping his hands well away from Kya as she stormed up to him. Helena knew his fear, it was once an intimate companion to her afterall. He looked at Kya as if she were the Witch Queen, something which sat uneasily in Helena’s gut. Even here, Kya was not the Queen. She had not taken evident joy in her power over these men, nor in their fear. Kya wore an entirely too calm expression, as if the violence had been a bore to her. As if the blood running down her arm was something to be nonchalant about. She was silent as she reached out, hooking a single finger into the string stretched between button and shirt. Finally, it gave out, snapping under the added pressure. Then, Kya spoke, her voice kept low as if to protect the man from further humiliation. “My wife is a war hero. I’m not the scary one.” She informed, using the tails of his shirt to wipe the blood from her arm. At Kya’s words, Helena noticed the room focus on her for a moment, awe and respect flooding their eyes in a manner that was entirely too familiar. Too uncomfortable. It was the awe and fear of Reiner’s army. How long would it be until they too saw the monster she could be? Could that be how they now viewed Kya? “She’s earned her peace, and I’ll fuck up anybody who tries to attack that. She shouldn’t have to kill anybody else to protect this country, let alone deal with shitfucks like your friends shaming her for having an ounce of happiness.” Kya continued, eyes blazing dangerously. That. That there was something the Queen never had. The heat in her eyes, the fire and compassion. Helena’s heart rose in her throat. She’d seen this scene before. The Queen, leering over her prey, leaning down to mock their failure before she crushed them. Now Helena could see it. Kya’s connection to the Queen. The heat had faded from her cheeks, yet that heat seemed to have migrated to her eyes. Where the queen froze, Kya blazed, charring the man’s willpower to cinders with but one annoyed glance. Her focused glare had him trembling, fearing what she might do next. Helena felt that fear. Had the queen claimed her lover? Was she to truly lose her happiness now? Was fate so cruel? “Your friends will need medical care. That elbow could have broken more than his nose, and your other buddy smacked his head pretty hard.” Kya added, concern filtering into her expression for a microsecond before she turned. With the grace and confidence of a Queen, she strode over to the first man, her dress fluttering around her knees like wisps of shadows and silk. She leaned down towards the man, crouching so that she could speak directly to him. “If I ever hear you dared touch another soul without their consent, then you will no longer have hands.” Kya warned, her voice a tide of outrage tempered by her own compassion. Her hand upon him reminded him to stay down, but also touched with concern. Feeling how his heart rose to meet her palm. Despite his unfocused gaze, he afforded her his full attention, staring at her as if he was looking upon an Angel. No, not an Angel. A Valkyrie of Nordic legend. A guide to the lost heroes, the one to guide their souls to peace. Helena understood, for she gazed in utter devotion. This Kya was a new creature, one embodying her soulmate, channelling Helena’s protective energy in a uniquely Kya way. Helena couldn’t help but smile, to grace her protector with an approving twitch of her lips and a nod. Kya was not the Queen, nor did she continue her violence when it was not in defence. She had picked up arms in this moment so Helena would not. So Helena did not have to. Just as Kya had promised, she protected Helena’s peace. Kya rose after a few more moments, stony eyes softened to gems as she gazed upon Helena. The Valkyrie extended her hand, fingers imploring Helena’s to weave between them with a silent little wiggle. Helena, a lost soul if ever there was one, was helpless to do anything but reach, to accept the hand offered to her. With the softest of smiles, she entrusted herself entirely to her soulmate, her Valkyrie, trusting that if Kya was not her peace then at least she would lead Helena there.

[c-atm]

Halloween tradition

Welcome, hunters! Defenders! Protectors! Human and not! Singled and partnered! Welcome to the Halloween Hunter Horde!" The master of ceremonies, a large, snow skinned person dressed in a ringmaster attire, yelled from their balcony perch to the crowd below, getting cheers and lift of wine glasses in their honor.

As was the tradition of the 'Hunters Horde.'

An annual party for hunters by the 'powers that be,' as the hunters recognized them. Truthfully, they were those who provided hunters help and assistance through various means.

Shops to exchange gems for standard currency, buy gear and accessories, and even buy domestic items. They provided information on hunts, places for hunters to exchange information, and settled disputes, and every year they did this.

Why?

Demon hunting is a lucrative business.

For the 'powers that be.'

Dressed in a purple-and-red, tattered coat with a frilly shirt, pink vest, pair of black pants, leather boots with metal soles and toes, a pair of gloves, a diamond necklace; Steven sighed as he looked at the drink in his hand, a cranberry wine, very sweet and tangy, the velvet red color was pleasing to the eye, but it wasn't his taste. Symbolic of his feelings towards this event.

There are a million things he wished he could be doing right now. All involving his firey mistress right now. Hunting with her, trick-or-treating with her, which was fun last year, dressed as Mirai Kuriyama and him, Akihito Kanbara from beyond the boundary.

"Simply adorable, she was." He mused, thinking of how excited she was to do something so child-like. How her face glowed with pride every time they were stopped for a picture or got a statement on how cute their couple cosplay was. The times when she acted in character, reciting the characters' infamous 'unpleasant' line as she adjusted her red frame glasses. She was entirely in character that year...a little to perfect.

"Still cannot believe she learned a bit of enchanting magic to create a blood blade," He muttered with a loving smile, "though she's also done one who learned demon transformation magic, so in retrospect maybe it's not insane." He shook his head; he was talking to himself, literally as violet was out on the floor, either watching and dancing with Ames or about to cause havoc with Ames. Either would be fine at this moment.

"Where is she?" He wondered as he looked around the room of their peers, hoping to see if his lady was still present, as she arrived before him from her day job or if she completely bailed and went home, leaving him alone in this...Networking event.

"No...she's still here. Just hard to tell with these senses diluting glyphs in place." Steven whispered, but he still felt her presence in the manor, scattered but there. 'Concerning in a way. Though, doubt anyone here would do anything that might put them in opposition with the 'powers that be.'' Steven thought to himself.

Still, he was expecting more... chaotic entertainment with a name like a hunter's hoard, so far everyone was tamed-chatting, dancing...info gathering.

"Well, if it isn't the flames witch's devil." A female voice said from the left of him.

He turned his head to see a demon hunter that they've come across a few times. Snow blonde hair, dark skin, voluptuous form dressed as a sexy witch, a small split skirt, tight corset top, purple silk cape, and black witches hat.

"Sarah did your 'nun' drag you here as well," Steven smirked as the witch nodded with a sigh.

"Yup, my sweet demoness thought it would be fun, plus networking is my forte, supposedly." She rolled her eyes while crossing her arms.

"Aren't you the top manager in an electronic insurance firm?"

"Aren't you a bisexual in a seemingly heterosexual relationship."

"Well, damn, who shit in your wine." Steven yielded with his hands up.

"No, I'm sorry." She sighed, "Just being here and not being able to feel Alicia's presence....Being so close to... ' Them.'

Steven nodded. He got it; the 'powers that be' are strangely intimidating, especially since no one knows precisely who they are...That, coupled with the sense dampening spell, would put any right partner on edge.

"Did you come with Alicia?"

"Strange question." Sarah arched her eyebrow, " but yeah...Of course."

"Hmmph. Well, at least you saw your partner."

Sarah's eyes widened at that before she smirked. "You didn't see trailblazer , huh..or what she was wearing."

"You have?" Steven took a sip of wine.

"Oh yeah." She tittered, "Actually, her and Alicia were sticking close to each other, talking with some other hunters."

Steven released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He was more relaxed now that he knew she was at least with a trusted ally. A demoness, yes, but Alicia's a fan of his firey lady and has been one since the azurite case; Where she saved the duo and a few others from a very oppressive spell. She's even the one that dubbed her 'trailblazer' for her aptitude with fire magic and her fierce attitude.

"So... How does my lady look?" His curiosity and enthusiasm in his voice.

"I can not say when you sound so ecstatic. It's like spoiling the climax of a movie."

"Fine, fine. I'll let myself be surprised. Can you at least tell me where you last saw her?"

Sarah was about to point left when it all happened. A body sailed across the sky, above the crowd, landing right between the two hunters.

Looking down, they saw the body was that a man with tan skin, a deep brown comb-over, and a broken, singed nose and cheek, dressed as speed racer; he groaned before losing consciousness.

"Where is that grabby little snake!"

A voice yelled within the crowd, a familiar voice.

A fiery voice.

Steven smiled as he watched the crowd all but part to give room to his blazing contractee as she marched her way through towards her victim and assailant, and his jaw dropped when he saw her.

She was dressed in a steampunk styled costume her consists of a purple and red-trimmed leotard with matching hot pants, a deep blue pleated skirt, black thigh-high socks, white boots, a pair of red mid-finger gloves, a headband, a pink diamond barrette, and ribbon around a lock of her hair. The costume, while not revealing, showed all her curves and brought both her charm and charisma to the surface.

"My Connie." He expressed in a daze getting her attention.

"Steven?" Her eyes expanded as she saw her partner, instantly forgetting the handsy little perv, in favor of her beloved demon embrace. Laughing as his hands found themselves at the curve of her back and her palms found his shoulder blades as she kisses his gem under his shirt. Getting a small shiver of appreciation.

She climbed out his arms, reluctantly to take a look at her partner in his outfit." So it's a costume party, and you came as a demon?" She teased, "a little on the nose there, don't you think."

"Ah, but you see, I'm now a love demon, all for you," he whispered, pulling her back into his hold.

"You gotta show me your credentials, later then."

She giggled, feeling his gentle lips on her shoulder. "So, you didn't say anything about my alchemist costume." She mumbled into his ear.

"Do I have to say how bewitching and tempting you are?" He teasingly admitted as he kissed her blushing cheeks.

"You just did, silly " She sighed, holding him close. She turned to Sarah and pointed toward the crowd, "Alicia's near the punch."

Sarah gave the two a grin before disappearing into the sea of people, leaving the two of them alone.

"So, having fun?" Steven asked, against her collar.

"Yea, it's been a blast." She started sarcastically, "talking shop, exchanging war stories and info about demons sighting called 'slashers'..." She sighed, "all while having people gawk at me with lewd eyes." She huffed.

"Well, you can't blame them. You make such an alluring alchemist." He moved his lips to her ear, "you'd have willing volunteers to experiment all across the land." His teasing cold breath tickled her ear, causing her to giggle.

[[More*]]

"Oh! no doubt," she carried on their play, nuzzling close. "Unfortunately, I have such a terrifying territorial terror as my partner. You'd chase them all away." She clicked her tongue in faux reprimand, kissing his temple. "Scientific succession stopped by my stingy Steven."

"I was yours first. Science can suck it."

"You're mine now."

"I'll be yours forever."

The earnest way he said it made her heart thumped and urged her to give him a tender kiss, humming throughout.

"Can we go somewhere more...Secluded, like.." She nodded her head towards the western wall, where there was a large enough balcony behind two glass doors, and no one was on it. Connie only giggled as Steven scooped her up and moved like a wisp of smoke towards their destination; unseen, and unnoticed by all.

They reappeared on the terrace almost immediately, Steven walking out of the smoke with Connie, still mid-laugh. He sat her down on her feet before watching her walk to the edge and sitting on top of it, facing him. "You'd catch me if I fall, right?"

"Of course, my lady. I am your partner." He smirked devilishly as he glided up to her, resting his hands beside her hips and his torso between her knees. Looking up at her somewhat mischievous face shining in the moonlight. "Are you planning a daring escape?" He teased.

"Actually, I might have...Sort of...Put one into action, already?" She confessed sheepishly.

"Huh?" Steven looked dumbfounded at his love. " What do you mean?"

"You'll find out."

"Does...does it have anything to do with that fool you laid out." He asked.

"Oh, gosh, no!" She exclaimed. "I put this into action, way before he grabbed my and Alicia's butt." She clarified, almost nonchalantly. She pulled him into a hold, feeling the rage from her best friend and partner, "No, we already handled it." She confirmed.

"But he..." Steven began only to be silenced by a small glare.

"It was nothing, my dapper demon. I promise. He touched and was punished for it..." she grimaced" Licia, just about ended his bloodline, if you catch my drift." She said, flexing her fingers as if she was holding something.

"Ooh." Steven breathed out, shaking his head." Still, wished that didn't occur."

"Yeah, cause only you can be perverse with me." She teased.

"Now, is it really perverse when it's with your lover, I prefer, intimate." He spoke in that devilishly dapper tongue that used to (and still at times) make her a blushing mess.

Connie, red face and eyes glowing by another emotional heat, chuckled. "Intimate, huh?" She pulled him closer.

"Yup." he rested his head on hers. "My actions are based on my love for you, my flame ."

"I never doubted that, my gem .." She chuckled. "Speaking of intimate...How long are you gonna keep your lady waiting?"

Steven didn't need anymore coaxing as they shared a deep kiss. Her hand holding his cheek, as he held her seat, her hot tongue twist, caress, and danced with his cooler one, creating a moment of warming love between the two. However, anyone else would see a small purple heart of flame around them.

Then a crash resounded from the inside along with the yells and laughter of Violet and Ames, causing general chaos.

"That's -chu- your -chu- plan?" He smirked through their kiss.

"Um -chu- hm !" She nodded, "let's go get us some candy -chu- get us a demon -chu- get a little hurt, -chu- and then spend the night dressing each other wounds, love demon. "

"Now, That's a plan fit for an alchemist." Steven said, deepening the kiss. " -CHU!- I missed you."

"I missed you too...Nothing like being able to sense you." She sighed as the kiss gain more depth.

-CRASH!-

" Let's not waste their hard work."

Steven smirked as he lifted his lady from the railing holding her in his arms, resuming their kiss as they sank into the sweet shadows that filled their flaming heart.

Off to spend their Halloween, their way.

---------;;;

For @meku95 Halloween contest

[drumboydowoon]

Crescent | ATEEZ Fantasy Au |

Chapter 1 | Winter

Next / Masterlist

WARNING | fire mention, death mention

Summary | Have a happy birthday full of unexplainable nightmares, flower stalls, and strangers. 

Word Count | 5,507

Lost, stuck, frozen, trapped. There was no right word for this situation. You stood in place, anchored in by time and unable to move. A bystander, a watcher, or a participant, you’re not sure which one best defines your role at the moment.

The setting that surrounds you is depressing. The town is covered in some kind of hazy fog. Was it a fog though? You couldn’t be sure since it invaded your lungs and made you want to gag. There wasn’t a sign of life in sight. The buildings sat in the distance, lonely and untouched by life. The fog grew thicker the more you looked on. It was beginning to suffocate you, but there wasn’t a thing you could do about it.

Soon, you heard footsteps. They echoed throughout the ghost town. Someone’s here. Should you be worried, or relieved that someone else is finally made themselves known? Many thoughts ran through your mind and each one made your stress go up.

One moment, your eyes blinked. When you opened them again, the world became something different. That’s when you realized it’s a horrifying nightmare. Your breathing became more ragged as you saw the mob of people circled around a gruesome sight. They all held torches that were burning, but they were brightly lit green. Such an odd color, but it made the scene all the more horrible.

The mob surrounded a pillar, no not a pillar, it’s a cross. There’s a man hanging on the front of it. He doesn’t seem to be awake, or aware of what’s happening to him. You wanted nothing more than to scream, to warn the man of his oncoming doom. However, nothing came out. Your mouth felt like it was stitched together without the stitches. You couldn’t utter a sound. The only available option was to stand and watch.

The second time your eyes blinked, everything was much louder. The green flames climbed the cross with ferocious haste. Each second they became closer and closer to the man that hung from the wood. The mob was rioting now.

“Burn the witch!”

“Kill him!”

“Let the Devil spawn burn!”

If your body allowed you to, you would’ve sobbed at the horrible shouts from the villagers. Instead, your breathing became heavier and your eyes rapidly shifted amongst the crowd. The flames inched closer to the man.

Your eyes scanned the crowd as a new insults were being shouted. Soon your eyes met someone else’s. Across from you stood a woman, who wore all red. It contrasted nicely with her deep black hair and her raven like eyes. A chill was sent down your body as her gaze stared deeply into your own. There was some kind of presence in those raven eyes of hers. You couldn’t quite describe the feeling, but you knew it was nothing good.

The woman’s lips curved up as she whispered, “Happy birthday my lily.” And though she stood so far away from you, her gentle menacing whisper was heard from everywhere. It felt as if it was an intimate moment meant for only the two of you, and you alone.

In another blink of the eye, the green flames reached the man’s body and consumed him whole. His agonizing screeches reached your ears, and then you tore your stare away from the woman to gaze upon the murderous spectacle. The last thing you experience is the smell of burning flesh in the air. You now know that it was never fog in the air, but rather a deadly smoke.

Jerking up from your bed, you inhaled a deep breath as you came out from underneath the harsh sea of sleep. Breaths came out ragged and quick. The cold sweat dripped down from your brow and raced down your cheek as your mind raced with thoughts of what you’ve conjured up in your dreams in the night. It was difficult trying to get your thoughts in order. Out of all the things your mind has to offer, why did it have to be the image of what you’ve been taught to fear most.

A witch burning.

The man on the cross that died in agony as the hot embers licked up his body in one fell swoop,  made your gut wrench in pain. And the woman in red, the woman whose eyes stared into your own, sent a shiver down your spine. Her fiery gaze and the devilish smirk that plagued her lips--nothing made you feel such unease before. She wished you a happy birthday. You didn’t know who they were. You’ve never seen them in your life.

Just when you began thinking of different explanations, a rhythmic knock at your door catches your attention. Who’s there? You wanted to speak out, but your dry throat had other plans. Another knock sounded, and before you could get up and see who it is, it creaked open on its own.

“Sooyun, are you up yet?” a voice whispered, afraid that he if he was any louder, he would disrupt something. And soon the door widened to reveal Kihyun, the man you’ve felt so relieved to see.

You stared up at him from your bed with a happy smile, but unfortunately, the smile didn’t quite reach your blank watery eyes. A worried frown immediately formed on his features once he caught sight of you, “Hey, what’s wrong?” He strode across the room and to you, who hasn’t even lifted the covers off yourself yet. Each step he took, the wooden floorboards creaked.

Kihyun sat at the edge of your bed. He looked into your hazed over eyes with concern. The bright morning sunshine showed itself through the window, kissing each surface with its illuminating glow. What a beautiful morning. It would be shameful if you ruined it with tales of the dark.

"I'm fine. I just startled myself is all. I wasn’t expecting you to knock so early,” you lied. Your eyes didn’t even meet his own when you said it. And the distant look in your eyes has yet to fade, so Kihyun know that something wasn’t right.

He raised a brow at you, not believing a single word. After a few years of living with you, he knew almost everything about you. Whenever you were happy, there’s a bright smile that graces your lips, it’s one that can make any man fall to his knees. Or when you’re concentrating, he notices how your brow furrows and creates a crease in between, all while you chew at you lip with tremendous focus. And whenever you’re sad, though you refuse to show it, there’s this tensity around you. One that makes the flowers seem gloomier in a bright day or the sky cloudier than usual.

He’ll always know when there’s something bothering you, and it’s his job to comfort you. Besides, you’re not a very good liar.

“I can’t help but think that, that’s a lie,” he bluntly pointed out. Of course he would see through your act. You’re a terrible liar.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you prepared yourself to tell him about your gruesome dream. So you told him all about it while he sat there hanging on to each and every word that left your lips. An ache began in his heart when he listened to you. He could feel how scared you must’ve been. And all he could do is wish he could erase that memory from you since it sounded so painful. Though, he didn’t have that kind of power like old man downstairs.

Once you finished, Kihyun took in a deep breath. There was a heavy weight on him that you didn’t notice at first, but from how tense he looked, it didn’t take long to figure out. Guilt started to eat at you. Perhaps you should’ve kept your mouth shut--you didn’t want him to worry about you more than he already does. Though, he shouldn’t have to worry about you so much in the first place. But he’s persistent as ever.

He gives you a sympathetic turn up of his lips. It’s meant to bring you comfort, but all you can manage is worry. But the more you thought about it, the more it became, not just because you made Kihyun concerned, but because you had no idea what that dream meant. Is it a fortune? A bad omen that Uncle always told you about? Or was it just simply a random, out of the blue, nightmare? This is something  you’ll have to discuss with the wiser man later. And in private.

Things like this shouldn’t be Kihyun’s concern. It was terrible to not include him, however he wasn’t like her and Uncle, so he wouldn’t understand so easily.

Kihyun makes a face like he’s trying to think of something, but nothing ever comes to his mind. Instead of trying to use words of comfort, he tried to get your mind off the whole thing instead. And with what? Food of course. The one thing that can bring people together and make the happiest memories, “Try not to think about it too much, okay? I don’t want it to ruin your appetite,” he consoled, then he replaced his worry with a charming smile to cheer you up. He didn’t want your birthday to start off worse than it already has.

The promise of food does work a little bit. You can feel yourself thinking of all the possible delicious dishes Kihyun has whipped up this time. Mouthwatering and vary in all sorts of tastes. It was a wonder how a woman hasn’t snatached him up and married him yet.

Kihyun’s smile becomes genuine once he sees that your face brightens up just a little more. He gently rubs your shoulder, “Hurry up and get dressed. I’ll be waiting downstairs,” he orders you. He then stands up from your bed and walks to the door, he reminds you to hurry with a teasing voice, “I understand that women take their time, but don’t take too long.” Nevermind, you understand why he hasn’t married yet.

“Happy birthday, by the way!” he shouted from the hallway.

After the door clicks shut and his footsteps begin to disappear down the stairs, you’re left alone in your room again. Thoughts of the dream threatened to creep into your mind once again, but your quick to snap yourself out of it. Listen to Kihyun, you reminded yourself. It was best to think about it later when you would have to with Uncle. For now, just enjoy the morning.

So you went to your closet and pulled out one of your few dresses. You looked at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how cold it is and how you needed thicker clothing for the winter. A measly simple dress won’t do. By the time Spring rolls around again, you’ll be thawing out from being frozen. Perhaps this is another issue you should bring up with Uncle.

It takes a while for you to finish getting ready for the day. You didn’t hurry exactly like Kihyun warned you, but then again, you didn’t care. Eventually you walked down the stairs, looking more proper than you first did this morning--wearing actual clothes instead of undergarments.

The upstairs portion of the house wasn’t anything too fancy to gawk at. Most of it was aged wood and dusty windows that can never be cleaned to perfection no matter how many times you’ve tried. Then there was the red carpet that hugged the floor tightly like it hadn't been touched in years. Kihyun’s room sat diagonally from yours. It was the last room in the hallway besides the bathroom that was across his room. The two of you shared it, he took baths in the morning, while you took them in the evening.

But downstairs was another story. It was beautifully crafted, almost like the gods themselves made it just for Uncle. Though, you know that isn’t true. It’s just Uncle having expensive taste in decoration and furniture. Luckily, this hobby of his started long before you or Kihyun had met him, so you didn’t have to experience his past debts.

The first thing that catches one’s eye when someone enters is the peacock like chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Its blue, pink and green stained glass looked out of place from the crimson walls and dark oak floorboards, but it managed to look in place as well with all the other strange decorations. The light that bounced off it resembled peacock feathers that spread out, wrapping the ceiling above it in a feathery hug. It’s one of your favorite pieces in the house.

The next thing that would catch people’s attention is the walls lined with bookshelves. You would never be able to tell the color of the wallpaper unless you paid close attention to the cracks in between shelves. There were hundreds upon hundreds of books stored in them, all of them having years of knowledge crammed into them. Everything ranging from basic mathematics all the way to how to escape a giant attack. Uncle knew much because of his decades of being alive. But there was only so much he could teach you since you’re somewhat like him, yet you weren’t at the same time.

Since you can remember, and because of stories Uncle’s told you, you’re the black sheep of the witch community.

It was an odd occurrence. According to Uncle, your parents had been highly respected witches within the community, though that changed when they died in a fire. But they were both witches. So why weren’t you like them? That’s a question that often lingered on your mind, digging deep into your skin sometimes. Perhaps some things weren’t meant to be passed down.

You could remember it like it was yesterday. Uncle sitting you down on the soft velvet couches after finding you passed out at his doorstep. He explained what he knew about you, and how he was close friends with your parents, or a close relative to your parents. It was different each time he would explain it.

You remember how he told you there was nothing special about you except for your high intuition (though, even that was questionable at times). Your genes just didn’t happen to match your parents so closely like most witches do. It became clear when Uncle tried to teach you simple spells and you couldn’t perform a single one. For a while you were devastated and confused, but you slowly learned to make peace with it. Uncle still taught you about the witch world (much to your liking) since the curiosity of your family’s  history could never be satisfied.

You read the enchanting book titles with a melancholy feeling deep in your gut. Passing the rest of the library, you went straight to the kitchen, where you could smell the amazing aroma of what you can only describe as, home. The scent led you straight to where Kihyun stood, hovering over multiple plates of food. One for him, one for you, and one for Uncle. But Uncle was nowhere in sight, and your certain you didn’t pass him on your way.

Kihyun interrupts your thoughts with a disappointed tap of his shoe, “Well you took your time,” he commented, not pleased with how you kept him waiting.

“Never rush a woman. That’s very important for you to learn if you ever want to be with a woman,” A sheepish smile makes its way to your face seeing the blush take over the entirety of his.

“What are you talking about? Don’t be ridiculous,” he rushed out, clearly trying to play it cool and it obviously not working. The way he gets so flustered whenever you tease him brings you much joy. That’s why you’ll never stop it for as long as you live. A smile breaks out on your lips and Kihyun swears he can feel his heart stop.

He finally manages to calm himself down moments later after he realized that you were only messing with him. He shoves a plate of food and a cup of Wilhelm's famous blend of tea down on the table towards you, and then demands that you eat at the table. The red on his cheeks was still evident--feeling embarrassed for different reasons now. You giggled at his awkward state and happily took the plate from him, ready to taste the wonderful meal he made this time.

He watched you skip over to the dining table in the room next to the kitchen with fondness. How he wishes he could be as carefree as you are. But more pressing matters pestered the back of his mind. The dream you mentioned earlier still bothered him. He hasn’t known you to have nightmares like that before, and though he isn’t a witch like Wilhelm, your “Uncle”, he couldn’t help but feel like the dream was something more. Hopefully Wilhelm would be able to provide some insight for you and ease both your nerves.

Kihyun followed you to the table while holding two plates in his hands. He sat one plate down at the head of the gothic table, and then he placed his own plate across from you. He took a seat and began digging in. You did the same, but your eyes kept glancing over to the empty seat where Uncle usually sat. It’s no surprise that he hasn’t joined the two of you yet. Kihyun always made him a meal, but he never was around to eat with you. Instead Uncle would take the meal with him into study and eat alone while he read his textbooks are performed new experiments with spells and potions.

After finishing a bite of your food, you glance from the empty seat to Kihyun, “Where is he this time?” There was a hidden annoyance in your voice, just barely peeking out, but it was enough for him to understand.

“He’s out setting up the stall for the day,” he simply replied, then taking another bite. A frown makes its way to you. Why was he setting up shop this early? The day has hardly begun and no one wants to walk in the snow this early to buy some flowers.

As if sensing your confusion, Kihyun swallowed what was left in his mouth and explained himself, “I tried to stop him, but he doesn’t listen to me. He kept saying that he can feel that something’s going to happen today, and that he wants to get a head start so he can see it.” He also looked annoyed, but he was just better at showing it than you.

“He’s old. He’s going to freeze to death out there,” you scraped your fork against the plate, beginning to feel worried about him, “Or fall over,” you finished. You blinked up innocently at Kihyun, hoping that he would get the hint that he didn’t try hard enough.

He stared down into your eyes with a blank look, one that made it difficult for you to guess what could possibly be going through his mind. Then again, he was always a hard one to read. Even with how close the both of you are, you can’t always understand him. That’s just how he is.

But then a pout that makes itself present on him, surprises you, “I already tried to convince him multiple times to come inside. Do you think he would listen to me?” he waited for you to answer with what he knew you would, “No, of course not. He’s a very stubborn old man.” He said everything like it was a fact, and you couldn’t help but agree with him. Uncle is a man who needs to do everything on his own. He doesn’t need help unless he specifically asks for it.

A heavy sigh escapes from you after you finished the last bite off your plate. Without warning, you stand up so quick that your chair sliding backwards and nearly tipping over. Kihyun jumps at the suddenness of it and gives you a look of astonishment.

“Where are you going?” he calls out as you begin to walk away from him and the dining table. Confusion was clearly evident on his features.

Without even looking back, you replied, “I’m going to tie him up and drag him back in here by force obviously,” the teasing tone was evident in your voice, and the giggle that followed after didn’t help your case. Kihyun knew you were joking from the very second you told him that you were planning on tying up an 80 year-old man. In fact, he could always tell when your joking. Your not very good at hiding it, just like most things.

Kihyun sat back in his chair, less tense than before, “Good luck with that.” You couldn’t have said it any more encouraging.

By the time you reached the front entrance, you could feel the chilly air from the outside slither its way inside from the crack underneath the door. A chilly shiver traveled up your spine. It’s freezing outside. You eye the coat rack next to the door and spot Kihyun’s spare coat. It’s worn out and has a few holes in it from the many years that he was alone, but it’s still somewhat useful still. You grab it and wrap it around yourself, hoping that it will provide you some protection against the harsh nature.

Stepping outside for the first time today, you forgot how much snow there was covering the ground. With each step, your boots sunk in slightly as the white speckled ground ate you up. You took a look at the town around you. It wasn’t anything special or spectacular, in fact, it’s probably the last place that one would take a second look at.

Faracre is just the town one passes through maybe once in their lives, or maybe never. There’s far better places to be rather than here, the ghost town forgotten by the kingdom. Houses and buildings were caked with white snow. Not many people were out walking on this day. They wouldn’t want the cold to take them this early in their lives.

Uncle’s house wasn’t anything special either, just like the rest of the town forgotten by time. It was small on the outside, but on the inside everything seemed to grow twice as much. You never asked, but you just assumed Uncle put a spell on the house to make it fit as much as needed.

Speaking of the devil, right next door to the house sat the flower stall, the one the three of you took turns running. Uncle paced back and forth around the stall, moving beds and pots of plants. Many were exotic, and some were the everyday flowers you can pick right out of the woods outside of town. These beauties always gained attention and managed to keep Uncle in business.

You stopped right in front of the stall with your arms crossed. The tap of your shoes is what alerted him first. He turned to face you with a cheerful smile since he sensed that it may be you. There’s only one person who could emit such an agitated aura towards an old man, which is you, his wonderful adopted niece.  

“And how can I help you today, Sooyun?” the old man was cheeky, he clearly already knew what’s gotten you so tensed, yet he continues to play coy.

A huff leaves you as you pout at him, “What are you doing out here, Wilhelm? It’s far too early and far too cold for you to be out here…” you pointed out. A chill runs through your body, like the air is aware that you’re talking about its chill.

He laughs, “Oh? Using my name now? I must be in trouble then.” Your pout seems to grow, and if it were anyone else, they may have found it cute, but to Uncle it was quite amusing.

“Because you are!” you exploded, which in turn caused an early morning walker to be scared. After apologizing to the townswoman for ruining her quiet morning, you focused on Uncle again with a glare.

“That’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable. It’s supposed to be intimidating.”

“Oh no, I’m shaking in my 80 year-old boots. It’s your birthday, you shouldn’t be nagging me on your birthday”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” A frustrated groan resounds. How can someone who’s nearing death act like a child? Uncle snickered at you, clearly enjoying the effects of his teasing. He was too carefree and childish for an elderly man. But you supposed that’s what made his character so charming.

“Sooyun,” he said it in a way that told you that he was beginning a lecture, which you weren’t mentally prepared to listen to. “I understand yours and young Kihyun’s concerns, but they’re not needed, nor desired. I’d prefer to spend my final days in peace while I take care of my plants. I don’t need your constant nagging. I’ve survived plenty through my life. I survived a dragon’s attack as well! Do you know how?”

Sighing, you gave him the answer you’ve heard too many times, “By turning it into a dog.”

“By turning it into a dog,” he repeated, but he continued, jumping into a long rant about his dangerous encounter with the great dragon that was over a thousands of years old.

“Hey don’t change the subject!”

“And there I stood upon its lair unknowingly. It wasn’t long before I realized where I was- And oh boy, did I find out that I was in some trouble-”

He isn’t even listening! Leaning against the flower stall, you silently scream into your arm at Uncle’s personality. He continued on like you weren’t there crying to him to stop, but rather that you were there listening closely to his fascinating tale. Such an imagination he has.

You’re not sure if his tale was true or not since dragons weren’t real, but the possibility exists that he just stumble upon some bear in the woods and turned the poor thing into a dog. With Uncle, there’s no telling which of his stories are fake and somewhat real.

Now there was no chance you would ever be able to convince him to come inside. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to bring up the topic of your nightmares to him now. He wouldn’t let you interrupt his tale so easily. As you mentally cried to yourself for being stuck into an hour long story, you didn’t even notice someone walk up to the stall.

“The dragon was standing right behind me too! His foul breath went down my back, and in that moment I thought I was done for-”

The stranger cleared his throat, “Excuse me.”

Uncle’s rant stops abruptly, and your head perks up at the new voice. Before the both of you stood a young man that resembled Kihyun’s age more than yours. He was very handsome, and very unfamiliar. You haven’t seen his face around before, and you’re certain you would’ve remembered someone as handsome as him walking around town.

A smile graced Uncle’s lips as he stood a little straighter to greet the man, “Hello and welcome to Blumen Heller. What can I interest you in?”

There was a skittishness to him. He played with his fingers as he responded, “Uhm hello. I was looking for something for my mother. She’s terribly ill, so I thought buying her some flowers would cheer her up. Is there anything you recommend?” There was a certain boyish charm in the way he talked. It was a combination of shyness and politeness, it was cute.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he sent his condolences to the young man, “Are you looking for something more natural or exotic?” he asked.

“Oh, uhm… natural?” the young man said, not sure if that was the right answer, though there weren’t supposed to be any right answers. It was only what you, and you alone, felt was like the right answer.

Uncle nodded in understanding, “I can offer you a look at our assortment of Daisies or Peonies. Personally, I think you should see the Hydrangeas. They’re my favorite,” he began pulling out different arrangements of flower already put together. The Stranger raised a brow at this, seeing that they seemingly came from nowhere, or did he perhaps not notice the older man taking them out from somewhere such as chest, or secret drawer?

You studied the exchange. Noticing how the Stranger’s eyes wandered and wondered, your focus darted to Uncle, who was retrieving bouquets of various colors out of his sleeves. Luckily it was behind the safety of the stall and far from eyes to pry, but that didn’t stop the Stranger’s curious thoughts.

“So did you just move here?” you blurted out, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” This was a question, not only to cover up for your caretaker’s carelessness, but because you were a curious creature.

The Stranger wasn’t expecting this and looked at her with wide eyes, “T-that?” he stammered. It took him a moment to regain his composure, “Well, that’s because I’m not from here. I’m from a town that’s about a day and a half away from here by horse,” he answered.

Uncle perked at this with a mischievous smile, “So you must be from Dewhurst? Hmm what brings you all the way here then?” This made you perk up as well, the curiosity only grew.

The Stranger shyed, “I heard from a friend that there was someone here who sold medicine that could help my mom,” he rubbed a hand down the nape of his neck, “But I’m not sure if that’s actually true or another rumor he made up. Honestly I would do anything to find something to help my mom, so it would be better to see if it’s real or not.”

Listening closely, Uncle gave him a look of understanding. The Stranger saw an array of beautiful and vibrant Hydrangeas. They were a mix of purples, pinks, and blues. He picked these out and Uncle started wrapping them up for him.

“I’m sure your mother must be proud of such a brave son. Wandering to a distant town in hopes of looking for a cure for his mother…” Uncle mumbled the last part to himself and just the Stranger, “What a lucky woman.” Uncle finished the bouquet and the Stranger pulled out a pouch full of coins. Your eyes shined when you saw how heavy his pouch was, it must’ve been filled to capacity.

“That’s very kind of you sir. How much do I owe you?” and Uncle gave him the price and they exchanged their items. “It was very nice meeting you, and your lovely daughter....” he trailed off trying to think of some names, but none came to mind.

“I’m Wilhelm, and this is my niece Sooyun,” Uncle filled in the blanks for him.

The Stranger smiled, his previous skittishness and stuttering gone, “Thank you, Wilhelm.” Then he turned to you, “Sooyun… Such a pretty name for a pretty girl. Have a nice day you two,” he kindly said. There was a glint in his eye as he looked at you, one that made your cheeks grow warmer than before.

“Have a nice day,” you repeated back to him.

Soon he was gone, just like every other customer your dainty flower stall has seen. Both you and Uncle watched as the Stranger left. Did he ever give you his name? Or were you too focused on his gaze to notice if a name left his lips? These thoughts lingered in your mind, even as Kihyun stepped next to you with his arms crossed.

He apparently walked out of the house after the Stranger arrived. Kihyun just stood there and listened instead of making himself known sooner.

“Who was that?” he spoke up with a raised brow. He watched the Stranger leave, just like you and Uncle. All three of you had different reasons to stare at his longing figure, but none of you would speak about it.

Uncle quickly dismissed him, “Just someone passing by.” It only took half a second for him to change the topic. Uncle worked like clock. Every time the second hand ticked by was another moment of life that’s being wasted. If he wasn’t doing something every second of the day, then he was not doing his job.

“Anyways, I think Mr. Yoo has something he needs to do today,” he glanced to Kihyun with a mischievous smile, then went back to work tending his magical plants.

“You do?” you asked. You weren’t aware of any plans he made.

He stared off in the distance for a moment longer before he became livelier. His eyes met your with a bright smile, “Yes, we do. I believe we’re going out on a date. It’s your birthday after all.”

A last minute after thought blurted out of Uncle’s mouth, “Chores first!”

[imfallingdown-icantwakeup]

Into the Calm and the Quiet

Fishmonger’s Daughter Chapter Three

Word Count: 3557

Taglist:

@chipster-21, @a-banana-for-your-thoughts, @ultracolorfulnerdcollection

No, but I trust you.

               The words echo around in his head and he’s beyond grateful that she allowed him to accompany her on Hamish, he didn’t know what he would’ve looked like if he was walking at that exact moment. Many people had said a great many things to him over the years, but trust, trust was so hard for him to come by and she just gave it to him so freely.

               I trust you.

               Thank the Gods he got onto the damn horse before she had. How embarrassing would that have been to have a hard on pressed right into her ass when those words had poured out of her mouth so smoothly like the purest nectar? Even now, her hair would tickle his neck every once in a great while when the wind would blow a certain way and all that enveloped his senses was roses and honey and suddenly, it was like his dick had a mind of its own like he was a fucking child all over again.

               I trust you.

               Spheres preserve him. He was fucked. Truly, royally fucked in the ass.

               I trust you.

               Fuck.

               “You’re quiet.” Geralt broke the silence. Was he? Jaskier took a moment before humming a tune under his breath to appease the grouchy man, trying to think of anything, anything other than the slim woman holding onto him before clearing his throat. Words. Geralt spoke words to him, he should be responding, shouldn’t he? Geralt only looked over at the bard before looking back at Elowyn who was tucked up tightly against Jaskier, fast asleep. “You told me of her father. Her brother. Never her.” Jaskier stiffened under Elowyn before looking over his shoulder unexpectedly, concerned, before he realized the obvious. She was still fast asleep beside him and completely oblivious to their interaction. Good. He didn’t want her to take offense where none needed taken.

               I trust you.

               “We all have chapters we do not read aloud, Geralt.” Jaskier was more than aware of the weary look Geralt gave him but decided to ignore it as he kept his attention forward. One of his hands dropped to where Elowyn’s were wrapped around his torso and he embraced her wrists softly as his thumb brushed against her wrist absentmindedly, lovingly almost, as if to reassure himself that she was there; as if the weight of her on his back, her steady breathing against him wasn’t enough for Jaskier to truly believe she was there.

               “Leaving to travel wasn’t an easy decision.” Geralt stated as Jaskier’s grip tightened. No, no it wasn’t. Single handedly, one of the hardest decisions of my life.

               No, but I trust you.

               I’ll miss you, you little devil.

               Goddammit, get a hold of yourself Jaskier.

               “I was always to leave. It wasn’t a question of ‘if’. Only ‘when’.” Jaskier lied through his teeth. If Geralt caught the lie, which he did, he didn’t mention it to the bard. The Witcher merely nodded towards Jaskier in understanding before they travelled in blessed silence once again, leaving each other to their thoughts.

               Does she ever think of their last day? Under the tree, the moon being their only light in the sky?

               No.

Why would she? She had a life to live in a warm home where she wouldn’t have a worry in the world to a man who could never want any but her because that’s what she deserved, and he had a Continent to travel and sing about full of adventure and that was their destiny.

               That was their destiny.

               Was that his destiny?

               Can you smell it?

               No, but I trust you.

               He could remember her face so clearly, how could he not see just how fucked he was since the beginning? He remembers hugging her tight against him, hurting his arms afterwards as he walked away. Jaskier remembers how his knuckles bled after she ran, he had punched their tree.

I trust you.

He looked down at the skinny silver scar that ran down his middle finger, knuckle to mid-finger, can almost feel the blood rushing out onto the back of his hands at the sight of her running, crying because of him.

Jaskier was just waiting for Elowyn to ask to come along. Why didn’t she ask? Why had he never gone home? Jaskier knew the answer to that. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to walk away a second time, her being latched onto his back only being a small testament to that fact.

I’ll make you famous, little devil.

I trust you.

He had thought of going home many times, but the same scenario had always played out horribly in his mind’s eye and he always talked himself out of the thought before it even began. He usually ended up in some woman’s bed on those nights after drinking too much wine, burying himself in the loveliest of his muses, chasing the smells of roses and honey.

No, but I trust you.

                 Poor little Ely, they say.

               Little Ely, little plain, boring Ely with her dark hair and eyes and light skin. She didn’t have big brown eyes either, although they weren’t small tiny orbs. Just small enough to make a difference to the other girls. The other girls with their fair hair and blue eyes. Eyes like the far seas that tasted of salt. Daddy always said that the sea tasted of salt.

               Oh, what poor little Ely wouldn’t do to have blue eyes. Blue like Jaskier. Here she is, crying her eyes red in the boring dark mud that matches her boring dark eyes and her boring dark hair.

               “Elowyn? Elowyn, is that you?” Jaskier runs up to me, his long hair tied behind his neck as he crouches beside me. I hide your face in my knees, not wanting to see his angel eyes. I can feel the rage swell in my chest as he nears, not at him per say, but at his kindness. How could an angel like him be with an average, boring girl like me?

               “This is none of your business!” I yell, flinching from his kind touch. He sighs as he plops beside me, picking up a stick. He waits for me to stop crying, the cries turning into hiccups before he pokes me softly with the stick. I refuse to look at him still, making him sigh before he scoots closer, placing an arm around my shoulders and bringing me closer to him, my bent frame tucked into his chest in a half-hug.

               “I’m only eleven. You’re ten. I can wait for a long time.” Jaskier threatens lightly. A wave of wet anger floods me at his words. How can he wait for a long time when my problem is forever?

               “What do you see?” I ask as I look up at him, voice hoarse, cheeks wet and warm from crying. Jaskier takes a breath before answering, taking this time to tuck some hair behind my ear.

               “I see… A very… Sad girl…” He says tentatively and I swat at him as I scoot away from him, placing space between us. I needed space to think.

               “I’m ordinary. I’m plain, I’m like the fucking air. Brown hair, brown eyes. Who wants what everybody already has?!” I yell as I stand. Jaskier sighs as he shakes his head at me, rising himself to calm me.

               “Have you been listening to that Jarsdel girl again? You know she’s- “Jaskier raises his hands in mock surrender as he slowly approaches me, but I lash out anyways, hitting at him. He dodges me easily as he is much taller than me already, taking a step back.

               “Right. She’s fucking right Jaskier. No ma-“I cut myself off with a humorless laugh. Jaskier only looks to me with empathy in his eyes as I shake my head at him. I must look a sight. Hair plastered to a sticky red face, a boring sticky red face.  Oh, sweet, sweet angel. “Tell me. How many love songs have a maiden with brown eyes?” Silence. Jaskier looks at her in silence as he mulls her question, mind running through every song he knows. He can see the anger flash in her eyes, sparks flaring, and he could see the tiny devils dancing, he could see it all, and spheres he could- he could-

               “I could write one.” He offers. He can see the anger tamed as the sentiment of his words register into her young mind. “I could write a song about how demons only light fires in eyes of darkness.” Of how their fires are so addicting, how I could watch the world burn in your eyes. He sees her flush before she wipes at her cheeks, sniffling before nodding.

               “I-I guess that can be acceptable.” I mumble as I look at my feet, the redness in my cheeks now there for a completely different reason. Is this what butterflies felt like? Why is my heart pounding this hard? Jaskier just said that he would write a love song about a girl like me, not for-

               Thud.

               “Shit! Are you okay?” My head falls off a very warm shoulder, whipping my front half forwards. I almost slide off the horse as Jaskier’s hand tightens around my wrists, tugging me back to where I was originally seated.

               “Yeah, thanks. Sorry.” I apologize as I place my head back on his shoulder, my nose tucked in towards his neck as I pull the hood of my cloak on. The cold air had turned my nose pink, and his neck radiated warmth. I hummed slightly as the tip of my nose collided with the outline of the skin exposed at the base of his neck lightly, my nose burning at the sensation.

               “Truth or dare?” He suddenly asks, his tone rich and deep in front of me. I smile fondly as I thumb the fabric of his shirt between my fingers gently, mulling over my choices.

               “Truth.” I eventually answer quietly, eyes closed as my nose is still turned into his neck. I feel the vibrations through his back more than hear them through the air as he chuckles, his long hair at the nape of his neck tickling my nose as he shakes his head.

               “Never were a risk taker. Tell me a secret.” My eyes open at his statement, and I still my fingers in his shirt at his words.

               “What kind of secret?”

               “Any kind.” I would not change a thing about you for all the chaos in the world. Your existence is a paradox, a joy, a contradiction I could spend my life studying and appreciating without ever getting bored. My breath stuttered in my chest as impossible thoughts race though my head. I couldn’t tell him any of that. That could ruin everything.

               “I don’t have any secrets.” I boldly reply, false bravado in my voice as I sit straight, placing space between my front and his back. The move was subtle, but I could tell that Jaskier could sense the slight tension it caused. He peers over his shoulder at me with an encouraging smile, so small but bright. How could I say no to an angel such as that?

               “Bullshit. That’s a lie, everyone has secrets.” You have haunted my thoughts and dreams since I was a child. I have memorized the slant of your brow, the way breathe when you sing, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. I would know you blind, deaf, numb in this world and any other. Now, now is as good of a time as any. If I could just-just get the words-

               “Alright, here’s a secret. I am afraid.”

               “Of what exactly? You can’t just say that to someone- “Scrunching his shoulders he turns and pretends to throw hair over his shoulder in a high pitch voice- “‘I’m afraid’”-I laugh at the sight. Who wouldn’t? - “and not provide any supporting details.”

Eternity. Oblivion. Crowded rooms and authority figures and being alone too long and you. I’m terrified of you because you have the power to destroy me and you don’t even know it. You have no idea. I’m less afraid of dying than I am of losing you and that scares me too. He sounds irritated. Should I not? Maybe now, I shouldn’t say anything? Fuck, I’ve waited too long-again-

               “Spiders.” The word came out of my mouth before my brain had enough time to think of how his eyes looked mine, of how his breathing may have stuttered just as much my own.

               “You’re joking?” Jaskier smiles broadly as he physically turned, and I can feel myself breathe again. Dandelions and lavender. This must be the breath of adventure.

               “No, really. It’s the legs, I think. And the eyes. There are eight fucking eyes, Jaskier. Eight.” I ramble, placing my hands on his arms to steady myself. I look around us on the almost-overgrown trail, finally taking in our surroundings, and notice something odd. “Where’s Geralt?”

               “Ah. The White Wolf has ridden ahead onto the trail to set up camp.” He explains, turning rigid under my grasp. I smirk at him as he turns, leading Hamish along.

               “Truth or dare.”

               “Truth.”

               “You accused me of not being a risk taker, Bard. Your excuse is?” I ask him, dropping my hand to pinch his stomach while keeping my tone light. Jaskier softens under my touch as he laughs into the air.

               “Is that your question?” He asks in return, sneaking a hand down to pinch my knee that was sitting along his thigh. I smack his shoulder lightly, mumbling ‘cheater’ under my breath as I think of a real question to ask him.

               “What is a kiss to you?” The question slithers out passed my lips without my mind’s permission.

               “A kiss?”

               “Yes, a kiss. You know, the ones you sing of in your songs.” I tease, a smile never leaving my face as I giggle at his antics. He could be so dimwitted at times, it amazes me.

               “I know what a kiss is, thank you.” Jaskier throws backs, straightening his shoulders in faux embarrassment. We laugh lightly before a calmness surrounds us. “A kiss… I think a kiss is the most pure and raw form of physical contact there could ever be.” I scoff lightly at the vagueness of his answer, rolling my eyes, knowing full well he couldn’t see me in that moment.

               “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. How silly of me. Please don’t bother to explain.” I sarcastically mumble into his shoulder, tone light with a smirk on my face.

               “If you would just let me finish, you devil woman.” I can feel his chuckle rumble from his chest down through my toes, and I giggle back in delight. Even being this close to him, it was like my skin was vibrating.

               “Alright, I’m sorry! Please, continue.” I pat his shoulder lightly as I quiet behind him.

               “Sex is intimate, sure, but you can have sex with anyone. A kiss though. A small touch between two pairs of lips as soft as petals can blow your mind. Whether it be short and sweet, or long and intense. And when you find someone that looks at you like you’re more beautiful than a blossoming rose; you’ll never want to feel another’s pressed against your lips ever again.” Jaskier explains, his voice deep. He actually sounds as if he put thought into this answer.

               “Must you always sound so lyrical? It’s like everything you say has yet to be sung.” I tease lightheartedly, voice breathless as I imagine kissing his lips.

               “I can write great ones, you know.” ‘I could write one’ I hear a young Jaskier echo in the far reaches of my mind and it brings a fond smile to my face. I place my forehead onto his shoulder for a moment and smile into his shoulder, childlike laughter bubbling up at the memory.

               “So, I’ve heard.” I puff, his singing drowning out my words.

               “The better sex, they often call them” He sings, well attempts. Jaskier brings his arms up as he mentally writes the song in his head, and I laugh at the familiar sight before me.

               “Ew, no, Jaskier, that’s God awful.” The laughter never leaves as I comment his word choice, how could he have come up with that?

               “Alright, then. Fairer. The fairer sex, they often call them; But her love is as unfair as a crook-” Jaskier’s singing is deeper, tone richer as he sings more confidently this time. This is where he shines. Basking under her warm smile in the cool air on the back of the horse on some trail behind his Witcher, it was the best adventure Jaskier’s been on in years.

               “That sounds better.”  I compliment, whether it was his words or singing, I’m not sure.

               “Of course, it does, I wrote it!” He boasts, chest puffed as his words inflate the air in his head. The ego this man has of himself, one none other to blame than his father, makes me laugh as the familiarity vibrates through my core. Soon the laughter dies into quiet, comfortable silence, the air still large with his ego and light with my happiness.

               “Does she have brown eyes?” I ask as we go around a corner, and everything changes.

               Silence.

               The cold finally sets in as Jaskier goes rigid under my touch, back straightened out and moved forward slightly away from me as we see a horse tied to a tree not far ahead.

               “I see Roach.” Jaskier points, and I feel all the happiness drain at the sound of his words.

               “Oh.”    

Geralt already had two tents set up when we arrived and a small fire going. He was attending his own weapons when we approached, and hardly looked up in acknowledgement when we tied Hamish to the tree accompanying Roach.

“I see you got our tents set up.” Jaskier says enthusiastically as he walks over to the tents, stretching his legs as he grabs his little notebook from his pack.

“No.” Geralt grumbles, tossing Jaskier his own tent. He looks down at the piece of the equipment on the ground as if it personally offended him as the Witcher turns back to Roach, hands on his hips. Jaskier kept his angel gaze on the tent before he turned back to Geralt, lips pursed in disagreement to the Witcher’s reluctance to help.

“As I seem to recall, ‘setting up camp’ meant for everyone.” Jaskier specifies, toeing the tent at his feet. The Witcher only seemed to roll his eyes at the Bard in irritation and continued with his task, unfazed.

“No.”

“Geralt, I’m starting to feel attacked.” Jaskier continues, taking a step towards him. Geralt finally turns towards the Bard with a sigh and another roll of his eyes. Keep doing that, and he will get those feline orbs stuck back there.

“And?” He asks lazily, a smug smirk making its way onto his face. Jaskier goes to argue before I scoff at the two men, gaining their attention before I walk over to grab the damn tent myself from between them.

“Fucking men acting like children.” I mutter under my breath as I walk to the opposite side where the other two were not and pitched my own tent away from the two children so that I may get some peace at some point in the night.

The fire had been burning for some time into the night. Jaskier and Geralt had been sitting by their tents, Jaskier mumbling lyrics into his lute while writing them down while Geralt tended to the warm flames. I sat in silence listening to the soft wildlife around me, the birds and insects buzzing in the overgrown weeds around us.

“A storm breaking on the horizon; Of longing, and heartache and- and- “Jaskier mumbles as he scribbles words in his little leather book, eyes furrowing in frustration. He hums the chord a few times, charcoal forgotten on his knee as he continues strumming lightly on his lute.

The red and orange flames dance lightly around us, enveoloping us in their warmth as Geralt comes to sit by me. We sit in comfortable silence, him drinking from his pouch while I snacked from a dried fruit pouch Jaskier threw my way once the sun started to set.

“He can be quite compelling when he wants to be.” Geralt breaks the silence first with warming words. His tone is as warm as the fire dancing around us, making me nod up at him, smiling politely as I continue watching Jaskier play his instrument.

“Jaskier has always had a way with words.” I agree, basking in the feelings around me. I relish in the warmth of the fire, scooting a bit closer to the warm flames until I can almost feel the warmth scorch the skin of my legs, the sensation grounding me to reality.

“Who is ‘Doxie’?” Geralt asks suddenly, and I feel all the warmth leave. The scorching that was once on my skin fades, the red and orange flames dancing around me still as I look sharply at the silver haired man, Jaskier’s singing long forgotten. I blink at the man in indignation, how dare he-

“Geralt! Listen to this!” Jaskier yells as he jumps over my seated form, sitting himself next to Geralt, ignoring the shared looks between us. He begins singing the same song from earlier, the love song of a girl with maybe brown eyes and I just can’t help but to think that I am fucked.

I am fucked.

I am royally fucked in the ass.

[jafndaegur]

The Dark Sentencer and the Blood Sacrifice

“You’ve Entered a Hell where the Devil is made of gold—please don’t run your mouth. The questions before have no place in this haunted house.” - Coheed & Cambria 

 Trigger Warning: Violence

This is my entry for day one of @mmangstweek​. This is sort of my take on a superhero universe, and the story will over-arc for the whole week. It is going to be incredibly dark, but per the guidelines, I will tone back any sort of gratuitous things that could be triggering (especially since gore and abuse are not allowed), however I do have certain devices needed for the plot of this story. I will always tag the beginning with any trigger warnings. Thank you for reading!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:* ✧

A quivering gasp flooded from MC’s mouth as she retched, her cheeks and mouth sticky with tepid vomit. Her body curled in on itself and she opened her eyes slowly, her head ringing with trembling reverberations. Cold tile cradled her limp form and even as she struggled to push herself up to her arms, her sense wobbled as if trying to regain themselves. Power tingled at her fingertips and she had to reel in her breathing as her heart staggered in her chest.

She couldn’t remember where she was. Why she was there.

Sight bounced throughout every inch of the room that she found herself in. A plain bed. A tall set of lockers at the back of the room. To her left, a near empty desk save for a computer screen and an accompanying desktop tower. In front of the keyboard, a small pink Nokia with a sticky-note on it stuck out like a sore thumb in the otherwise dully colored room. Pushing her hands against her sternum, MC tried to steady herself. A small prick of surprise laced at the back of her mind when she honestly wasn’t all that concerned with the fact that her memory was about as patchy as a crocheted doily, and apparently her skin was too. Her eyes narrowed at the scars that lined her hands from the tips of her fingers all the way to her wrists. The long sleeves of her beige sweater stared just about there, and pushing up their lengths, she took note of the fact that the seemingly incessant blemishes didn’t stop at her wrists. She rolled the sleeves up as far as she could. She lifted the bottom hem to her sweater. She looked down at the parts of her legs exposed from her shorts.

Scars, scars, scars. Large and long gashes. Thin, needle-made slashes. Deep gorges that looked like splatters. There wasn’t an inch of her body not covered in wounds. At least that she could see.

Her knees practically threatened to buckle as she pulled herself to her feet. She hobbled around the puddle of puke and made her way to the turned off monitor. Her face reflected was plain and simple, unlike the rest of her, it was unmarked. Skin stuck between a sickly blanche and a pale jaundice, she didn’t particularly care. But the fact that scars seemed to suddenly stop mid-neck drew her attention. Her lips quirked downward into a frown. Surely such mutilation like this wasn’t her choice? She doubted she was masochistic enough to enjoy carving up her body like some Thanksgiving turkey carcass.

Taking the phone into her hands, she flipped it open to find that she was already logged into a chat room. It asked for a code. She took the sticky note from the top half of the device and copied the numbers that had been chicken scratched onto the paper. A small beep signaled that she was in. Any curiosity that she’d had about the mysterious phone and the mysterious place and the mysterious her died in her throat when the machine in her hand was suddenly bombarded with a string of texts. Her hand clenched the Nokia tightly, her fingers turning white at the pressure.

¡707!: “SomeonebrokeintoRika’sapartment omg omg omg omg!”

MC’s eyes narrowed. R…rika? That name startled a surprising amount of rage and aggression. Heat flooded her chest and her brows furrowed together as her jaw pulled taut. Fingers clenched around her throat and—

Zen: “How can you be sure?”

¡707!: “What do you mean how can I be sure, I’m staring at the CCTV—oh.”

Jumin Han: “Oh? Should we not be addressing the authorities?”

Zen: “Look silver-spoon boy, who would be better than the authorities? Us. Duh. Besides, anyone other than us really isn’t supposed to be there. Ah this kid…”

Y✧✧sung: “Wait Seven, what’d’ya mean that—”  

¡707!: “She’s…watching us!!!!!!! ;A;”

MC’s stomach dropped and she wondered what a person was supposed to do in a situation like this.

Jumin Han: “Should I seal off the exits so she can’t get away?”

Panicking, MC hurried to type in a response. Sealing the exits off didn’t really sound all that great of an option. Oh god, were these people going to kill her? Secret apartments and forgotten memories—what where they, a fucking mafia? She regretted ever having woken up. She should have just asphyxiated on her own bile.

Zen: “I’m on my way now, standby. Let’s see what this punk has to say!”

MC: “Hey! Hey please, I’m just as confused as you guys…”

Y✧✧sung: “Ack! It speaks!!!”

MC: “IT?”

Jumin Han: “A likely story. I will take care of this myself, Zen is taking too long, per usual.”

MC: “No, really I’m—”

The window’s and the front door at the front snapped and shattered with a flash of lavender light. MC fell backwards, a scream tearing at her throat. Her hands slipped on the slick floor and her legs landed in the waste mess she’d made earlier. Standing there, wavering like an old VHS recording, was a very tall and very angry man.

He was dressed in a fine suit, with a fine tine, and a fine pressed pocket square. His raven hair swirled back and forth, as if he were carried by the wind, the short tail of his jacket fluttering likewise. He reached out, light crackling at his fingertips.

“Explain or I will not take your offense lightly.”

MC stared up at him, finding she really couldn’t say anything.

His lip curled and he snarled. “Did you break in to steal information? How about money. Did you would find something as simple as money here? Your idiocrasy as a thief and getting caught is quite blatant.”

Her throat clenched and her body threatened to vomit again.

“If you won’t speak, I will tear it from your mind myself.” The man growled.

T-tear it from my mind? MC recoiled.

Like a ghost, he flickered out of existence only to reappear right in front of her, his hand grabbing for her face. She rolled out of the way with a yelp. Thoughts racing a mile a minute she tried to think of a way to get out of the apartment—only to slam into the lockers at the back. Her body shuddered, and skin broke. Her elbow was scraped and a small smear of blood through the tear in her sweater.

Heartbeat shuddered and faint wisp of a memory knocked at the edge of her mind.

“MC, MC, MC—my precious little scapegoat.” A knife. “Just make a wish.” Her belly, it was open. Her belly had been cut open. Oh, oh, oh. Oh help, p l e a s e, someone— “It’s not fair you got to live a fairly happy life. A few nicks? Some genie made wishes? Please. What a joke.” Someone tilted her chin up and trailed the tip of the blade in disgustingly sensuous circles along her collarbone. “I sentence you to make others happy. That’s what you wanted, right?”

When the man lunged again for her, MC felt her entire body go limp. I wish I was anywhere but here—I’d even take my chances with that Zen guy…

Wind buffeted her form and within the second it took MC to blink, she was suddenly tumbling through the sky. No apartment. No apparition. Just her, blue open sky, and the ground increasingly approaching her. A scream should have been what escaped her mouth, but instead, only a laugh. She wailed and giggled like some sort of lunatic. Her arms and limbs flailing as her zoomed past skyscrapers and office buildings. God why did she think she could help. Why did she always seem at any moment to fail over and over again. Happiness, what a joke. She couldn’t compete with her Sentencer, she couldn’t compete with the body that constantly tried to use itself against her. In a sense, this was better though, she guessed. A power like Blood Sacrifice was one she didn’t want any more, one she didn’t—

Eyes rolling back into her head, MC barely caught notice of a strong pair of arms wrapping their arms around her waist as beautiful silver wings stretching through the sky. A concerned voice. Vermillion eyes. Her body snapped at the impact of being caught mid-fall, and she swallowed her tongue, vision going black.

-*:･O･:* -

“MC!”

She turned around and smiled, waving eagerly to the curly haired blonde approaching her. The woman was thin and slender, her brown dress hidden almost entirely underneath a white lab coat. Emerald eyes narrowed, and curved brows arched.

“How’s therapy going?” The woman smiled, and gently took MC’s wrists into her hands.

A light blush dusted across her nose and MC suddenly felt extremely self-conscious of the hospital gown she wore.

“The tests aren’t hurting you too bad, right?”

“You better be careful. People might think you’re biased.” MC nodded. “I think out of all of us, you treat me the nicest, Rika.”

MC stared out, past the large glass wall that sealed off the rest of her cubit. The only one who knew how to enter and exit the room was Rika. Not that it mattered to her. She never ever wanted to leave. Down a long narrow hall, other glass walls glittered like a sea of ice, and even though her eyesight wasn’t the best, she could make out the fleshy blobs and colors of the other test subjects from behind their translucent little cages.

[iblue-kitzune]

Of Rising Calamities Beyond the Cosmos: Chapter 1

There was a great storm approaching—one big enough to cover all of the islands that were scattered across the vast deep blue sea.

At least, that’s what the travelers and the wildlife had said not too long ago.

Even within the depths of an eerie dark cave, one that she was currently exploring at the moment, their whispers reached her sensitive ears. She immediately stopped her in her tracks.

And despite being in the middle of discovering something in this mysterious dungeon that was incredibly too damp and filled to the brim with god knows what, aside from the occasional wild animals or monsters that came out of nowhere to attack her—interrupting her search on nearly every floor she went through only to piss her off when one of the bastards got a lucky hit in and ripped a hole through her favorite sleeveless jacket, which earned him a quick ticket to hell, the young woman listened.

She listened to their warnings, their calls of distress that were laced with fear and worry. With a disappointed sigh, the young woman flicked her right hand and made her ruined jacket disappear into one of her many dimensional pockets.

‘I will come back here and try again next time,’ she promised in her mind right before she vanished from the cave in a flash of blue-white light.

                                        XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX      

Chaotic streaks of white lightning danced across the midnight blue sky in waves, bringing along its rumbling call of thunder that spooked those roaming around down below into action, and a downpour rain that soaked them to the bone.

A sudden flash of lightning struck, hitting the boulders on an empty port near a beach covered in coconut trees that stood tall in the very back where the exit was, shattering it into pieces with its powerful force. Unfortunately, this scared off the many critters and birds hiding up in the trees into the forest, heading right for the valley that was connected to this place.

                                        XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fighting against the sudden force from a gust of wind that came and nearly swept them off their feet, the animals on ground floor ran on —a bit with slight difficulty— while those up in the crackling air flew on and on. Their high-pitched cries, roars, and caws echoed across the valley filled with shimmering huge trees, giant boulders, and stonehenge pillars that glowed lavender underneath direct light, colorful wildflowers that danced from side-to-side in timing with the blowing of the wind, bright blue rivers that sparkled ever so radiantly at night whenever the full moon or stars came out to play, and a mountain with snow covered tops that stretched far and wide over an area where a beautiful silver-blue and white citadel lay in waiting at the bottom near a waterfall.

It was a place that not only held an entire city inside, but it was a city that housed a couple of special schools and academies too—with at least eight of them being well-known throughout the whole world. However, out of those eight, only four of them taught both academics and magic. The type where students can receive their education and learn how to fight all in the same building.

And because of that, these institutions were considered by many to be one of the best. Why, some of the most brilliant people and warriors have graduated from here—some even came back years later and tutored here or taught classes here, after they went on and got their doctorate’s degree out of the way, elsewhere, that is.

Unfortunately, due to the location of this place, considering where it’s situated at and all, the fortress tends to get attacked by the local wildlife and monsters living in the area or get hit with thunderstorms and blizzards every once in a while.

ZZZOWP!

“Caw!” startled cries escaped from a flock of birds when a bright bluish-white light appeared above their heads. Then with wide beady little eyes, they watched the light disappear only for a human woman with long dark brown hair and golden brown-amber eyes to appear out of it and fall past them, heading for one of the high tower bridges of the citadel below them.

“A thunderstorm huh? That’s odd,” she commented once she grabbed a hold of the bridge’s railing and lifted herself up and over it...

Only to get hit by something small and hard.

“Ow!” she looked up with a grimace and paused. “What in the—hail too?! Yeesh! This is just not my day huh?” the young brunette complained, wincing in pain when she felt a few more drops of hail hit her on the head just as she ducked underneath the surface and took cover on the third’s highest floor she was on.

“It’s a good thing I choose this floor and not the damaged one with cracks in it above me...” she mumbled. “Or the top floor where I definitely could’ve gotten more soaked.”

BOOM!

“Caw! Caw!” more birds flew past her vision overhead.

However, she was concerned about other things at the moment.

‘Let’s see...’

The young woman took the time to make sure her clothes didn’t get ruined any further then they did earlier during her scuffles with the monsters.

‘Hmm…it’s not too bad I guess...’ she said, eyeing the tiny creases mixed in with the stains of dried blood —not hers— on her wet tube top. ‘I’ll have Darcy wash it and fix Friday since it will be her turn for laundry day,’ she added and continued her inspection.

Once she was satisfied and found nothing else amiss, the young woman turned and made a beeline towards the nearest pillar that came with a bench.

“Much better,” a relieved sigh left her mouth as she sat down and closed her eyes.

It was quiet for the first two minutes—save for the small occasional boom of thunder and whispers of the wind, but she didn’t mind any of that at all. She was just glad to be out of the weather for now. Well, at least before she had to go back out there again and head—

“Hey Dr. Foster!”

Damn. So much for peace and quiet.

“Jane!”

“There you are!”

She opened her eyes and looked over to see two of her friends and an old familiar face, one that she hasn’t seen in years, heading in her direction.

The first one to stop in front of her sitting form was a semi-tall woman with shoulder-length black hair, heterochromia eyes –with her right one being red while the left one was blue—, and a small scar running across the bridge of her nose. She wore white and black clothing with gold accents, some rider goggles around her neck, which sat over the red jeweled necklace she had on, and was armed from head-to-toe.

Next to the woman, a young man stood tall with spiky faux-hawk like white hair, blue eyes, and a cybernetic arm. He wore a dark blue hooded jacket over a dark crimson red shirt, black pants, and some black military-style combat boots.

Like his friend, he was also armed, but not as much as she was.

And finally in the back, an older man stood there in some kind of purple collared shirt and golden color tie underneath a dark blue business suit with his arms crossed against his chest. He had spiky brown hair, brown eyes, and a small beard forming under his chin.

And unlike the two in front of him, he was not armed at all.

But that didn’t mean anything seeing as not everyone carried some type of weapon or weapons on their person, and if they did, some of them wouldn’t even choose to have them hanging out in plain sight.

This is something that Jane knew all too well.

In fact, she, too, carried a few weapons on her person.

“Lady…” she finally spoke, nodding at the dark haired woman, “Nero…” and white haired man in greeting. “Alvin…” the young woman gave the brown haired man a quick nonchalant glance, ignoring his sudden slouched stance, and turned her attention back on her friends. “You two were looking for me?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah! Lady and I thought you were still out there in that cave you told us about over the phone earlier,” Nero answered. “But seeing as you’re here now, safe and sound from the storm, I guess there’s no point in coming to look for you anymore.”

Jane laughed at the small sheepish look on his face, “No, I guess not.”

“Told you, Nero! I knew she’d be fine,” Lady teased and gave the young man next to her a smug look.

Nero lightly glared at her. “Oh now you’re going to lie, huh, Lady? Admit it! You were worried too! That’s why you wanted to come with me.”

“I—I was not that worried.”

“Yes, you were!”

“No, I wasn’t!”

Jane hid a nostalgic smile behind her hand, silently laughing at the two as a small argument broke out between them. Even if she hadn’t seen these two and the other devil hunters back in Red Grave City in a long while, they were still just like how she remembered them.

Well, at least these two were. She didn’t know how Dante, Vergil, Trish, Kyrie, and Nico were doing or what they were up to these days, aside from slaying demons and all that.

‘Guess it’s time I pay them a visit in the near future. Maybe I’ll even run into Erik while I’m over there too.’

Though speaking of visits...

Jane ignored Lady and Nero’s ongoing friendly argument for the moment and turned her sights on the older man who observed the “fight” in front of him with slight amusement. 

It isn’t every day that the so called ex-mercenary –which he told her this in one of their old letters and among other things, such as the friends he made and how his life had finally turned around for him— comes down here to pay her a personal visit unless he had some information on him that he wanted to share with her.

“Alvin.”

The professional tone of her voice drew all of their attention towards her.

“Yo?”

“I know you usually don’t frequent visits to Earth unless you either have something to give to me or doing business down here, so which one is it?” she asked with crossed arms. “Actually, how did you even know where to look for me? I could’ve been back at home in London for all you know, so how?”

Alvin slowly yet nonchalantly corrected his stance and slipped his hands in his pockets. “Well you can thank your bubbly, little lovely lady friend with the sunglasses and the good-looking, eccentric rich guy with a nice beard and an ego the size of Texas for me. I told them I was an old friend of yours and was looking for you, and they so kindly directed me towards this nice little island here!” he chirped with a grinning smile.

Despite the urge to face palm or roll her eyes, the young woman kept her composure.

On the inside, however…

‘Damn it, Darcy! Tony!’

The smirk on Alvin’s face dipped a bit when he caught sight of the change of Jane’s expression on her face. “Hey Jane, what’s wrong—”

“Alvin?” Lady interrupted, immediately catching the man’s attention. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yep! That’s right!”

“Okay, Alvin. For one, you never told us your name when we ran into you earlier. And number two, you never told us that Jane was an old friend of yours other than “she’s someone I know” and “I’m here to see her too”…”

The spiky brown haired blinked. “Ah well…” he paused and gave the young black haired woman a small charming grin. “You never asked,” he stated, casually shrugging his shoulders.

Jane could see the irritation starting to settle in both Nero and Lady’s eyes. So before any of them could blow up on the man even though he probably deserved it for playing his usual games on people that he meets, she decided to jump in and save the poor guy.

‘Just this once,’ she sighed heavily, which ended up attracting all of their attention back on her again.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Alvin?” Jane gave the man a pointed look, and he just laughed in response. “Oh good grief. I see you haven’t changed that much in that department,” she shook her head, much to the confusion of her two friends who looked so lost and didn’t know what was going on between her and Alvin.

“Jane—”

“Don’t worry about it, Nero…” Jane reassured the white haired devil hunter with a smile when he turned to look at her in question.  “Alvin was just messing you and Lady. That’s all,” she clarified for him.

“…O…kay?” poor Nero still looked confused.

And as for Lady, she wasn’t even going to question it.

“Alright, enough of the fun and games you guys. Shouldn’t we discuss the weather situation at hand here?”

BOOM!

All of them suddenly jumped from the loud sound then got startled by the multiple flashes of lightning, which struck a top part of the mountain nearby. And the thought of being way up there, anywhere near that area, made them flinch a bit.

‘That could’ve easily been one of us.’

They were now suddenly thankful for being down here instead, where they would at least be safe and out of striking distance.

Alvin hummed, a somber expression growing on his face as he turned to look at three, although his eyes were more so locked onto Jane’s. “She’s right you know,” he said in a murmur. “And as a matter of fact, I do actually have something for you, Dr. Foster.”

Jane returned his expression.

“Let’s hear it then.”

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX            

Taking the Tesseract sounded brilliant in his mind at first. When he and the others saw Stark grab his chest in pain and crumble to the ground right in front of them, he immediately became puzzled…and a tiny bit suspicious. The injured god had no idea if this was some sort of trick, but he ignored them as soon as his faux brother and his new band of mortal friends, along with a few others, ran to the Man of Iron’s aid. Instead, he, without turning around, focused a little bit of his attention on one of the mortals behind him and the soldiers, calling out something along the lines of “Help!” and “Can someone get this guy here a medic please!”.

Then, before he could even comprehend what the hel was going on, a bang went off in the background and something flew across the floor and hit his boot, making him look down. And he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the Tesseract! It was just...sitting there! Sitting oh so innocently on the floor and not in that strange metal looking case like it should’ve been earlier.

He couldn’t ignore the temptation, and immediately took action. The God Mischief looked around to make sure that no one was looking at him, and when they weren’t, he bent down to retrieve the glowing cube in his cuffed hands and activated it, immediately blinking out of their existence.

                                         XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Well that went surprisingly…well, the raven haired god mused in his mind as he traveled through space and time. He thought for sure his little plan would blow up in his face considering that he hastily threw it all together in like, what, a split few seconds. But it didn’t! And, honestly, it shocked him.

Oh well, he wasn’t going to give any more thought to those incompetent fools now that he’s escaped from their hold. 

‘Wait a minute...’ and the realization of something else, something incredible, flew through his mind just then.

There was no going back to Asgard now…

No going back to The Other or the Black Order…

And, most definitely, no going back to Thanos and his Chitauri army to deliver the news of his failed mission, which he was sure by now that the Titan knew and will more than likely punish him for it—but still!

He was free!

For once, he was actually happy. And although he couldn’t remember the last time something had gone right for him, the god wasn’t going to let his own pessimistic thoughts or the “what-ifs” –that were currently flowing through his mind right now— ruin the rest of his day.

He could go wherever he pleased and they wouldn’t be able to catch up with him—not without Tesseract though, which was in his possession now. So with that in mind, he willed the powerful glowing blue cube to take him somewhere to safety and slowly closed his eyes.

‘Just a quick rest,’ he thought to himself as the cube glowed in response to his wish and teleported him out of the area.

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The raven haired god knew something went wrong the moment he sensed a couple of hostile auras in the area, and so, he opened his tired, weary eyes only to come face-to-face with an army of familiar alien battleships with their weapons aimed directly at him.

Oh for Valhalla’s sake! He knew it was too good to be true!  Stupid Loki for believing that sweet, sweet victory and freedom was within his grasps! And damn the Tesseract for dropping him here in the heat of fire instead of somewhere else.

Somewhere that’s safe.

Bah! Trust that blasted cube to betray him now. It’s like the thing wanted to get rid of him or something.

And now these fools demanded that he hand over cube unless he wanted to become space dust? Ha! Do these people really think they could— 

“Quit trying our patience, false Asgardian prince! Surrender the Tesseract now or we will fire!”

He sighed. ‘You really are a lot of trouble you know that right?’ the god looked down at the infinity stone in his hands and pondered over this new situation he landed himself in. Even though Loki resented the cube at this present moment and wanted nothing more than to rid himself of it, that didn’t mean he wanted to hand it over to Thanos’ cronies.

There was a reason why he made sure he purposely failed his takeover of Midgard and still made it look like it wasn’t his fault that the mission went south. He knew the Mad Titan wanted the Tesseract, and wanted it badly. He knew that Thanos wanted the other stones too. The guy and his army were still searching for them—and have been for a long time now. Sure, he didn’t know why they were looking for them in the first place, but Loki had a feeling that it wasn’t for anything good at all.

And he trusted that gut feeling of his, so maybe it was sort of a good thing Thanos never told him what his true plans were.

‘Trust...and loyalty... He never had mine to begin with and I never had his. Good. I didn’t need it or wanted it anyway. Only a fool would give either of the two away and expect me, in return, to fully hand over mine, especially over a deal or a promise.’

The god sighed once he finally made up his mind. He just hoped to Gods that he wasn’t going to get killed for this since his seidr was severely low at this point.

He closed his eyes once more and shook his head.

They didn’t seem to like that response as their cannons started glowing with built-up energy, and they demanded through the intercom, for the final time, to give them the Tesseract.

Instead of shaking his head again, Loki opened his green eyes and took a page out of the Midgardians’ hands—something that he’d witnessed before during his time in the void when he was spying on Midgard. He lifted both of his cuffed hands up—while letting the Tesseract go to hover in place before him— and shoved them forward with his middle fingers raised high up in the air.

And to add further insult to injury, the God of Mischief stuck his tongue out at them and waved good-bye before he quickly grabbed the glowing cube and bolted.

When they realized what the god had just done—let alone have the nerve to do it without even speaking to them telepathically, which they knew Loki was quite capable of it, the group chased after him in pure rage.

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX             

‘Oh shit…’ he suddenly and uncharacteristically cursed in his mind when the battleships quickly caught up to him and started rapidly firing at him.

Despite his weakened appearance, Loki managed to dodge all of the blasts and with the little bit of seidr he had left, willed his body to change.

In a flash of green light, he transformed himself into a griffin and transferred his hold on the Tesseract over to his tail and flew off. ‘What the—’ the god narrowed his eyes in deep annoyance when he realized that the blasted contraption attached to his beak was still on. He thought for sure the muzzle would break under the force of pressure due to his body changing, but it didn’t.

In his exhaustion and rage, he completely forgot to dodge the next set of beams and got bombarded from all sides.

BOOM!

Before the battleships could proceed forward, a bright blue light exploded from within the smoke cloud and blinded everyone.

ZZZZZPPT!

When the light in the huge receding smoke cloud died down and the Black Order along with the Chitauri inside opened their eyes and looked out the window of their ships, they found the Tesseract and Loki Laufeyson, who they’d once thought was dead, no longer there.

They were gone now.

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

‘Where…a…are…y…ou…ta…taking me?’

The cube was silent.

‘Fine…whatever…’ he truly wasn’t in the mood to try and argue with an inanimate object that held some form of sentience and a lot of power.

With his energy completely spent and his body slightly numb from the waist down, he couldn’t move. 

He couldn’t do anything!

Then his vision blurred, and Loki found himself falling for a second time.

Why was he not surprised by this? He thought he would be. But then he remembered something, something so minuscule that really shouldn’t matter at all. Why should it?

But still...it was something so important that it should never, ever, be forgotten.

The Norns hated him. They always did. And that will never change. He was sure of it.

So in conclusion, this must be their doing. They must want him to fail and perish.

……….

.....

Well then, if he died during the fall—or after, this time around, so be it.

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“—So it’s like that in other parts of the world other than here, on Snow Lunar Island, and London huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much, Kid.”

“That’s a bit concerning to hear then...”

Jane stayed quiet as her two friends spoke up after Alvin just got done explaining the news he had for them. She had to agree with Lady though. It was one thing for the island to experience frequent thunderstorms such as this, but for places such as Puente Antiguo, New York City, Stuttgart, Sokovia, Wakanda, Norway, and many others to experience this same kind of storm, and mimic its intensity at the same time too, was —she wasn’t going to lie— a little alarming. 

It was practically unheard...

And to make matters worse, if she recalled correctly, it stormed the day she got here. Hard. Really hard. And sure, she was a couple of days late because of delays and all, but at least she and the other passengers on the ship made it to Snow Lunar Island, safe and sound.

That happened about six months ago, and since then, it has stormed over a total of four times already—with this one being the fifth, Jane realized with a start.

It just now dawned on her that the storms never really went away. At best, they lasted for about a couple of days before they died down, only to pick right back up where they left off again, a few weeks later. 

It was an ongoing chaotic cycle. Rinse and repeat until...

‘Today...’ she said, looking uneasily at the sparks of white-blue lightning running along the thick dark clouds in the rainy sky, mixed in with the hail that fell through the cracks within.

“I don’t know if Mother Nature’s been PMS-ing lately or whatever, but this, THIS, I can guarantee you is not normal! All of the animals and other creatures I’ve come across lately have been going stir crazy! Hell, even the demons that Lady, I, and everyone else have slayed on our past missions gone bonkers! More so than usual in fact! It’s more than a little nerving I will admit, but I shit you not, the last mission I went, the Old Man, Pops, and I witnessed a fucking Blitz  —which is an elite demon in terms of being the strongest of ranks mind you— running around in circles like a damn headless chicken. And you wanna know what it did next? It fucking kamikazed itself with us right there! And while I’m sure it definitely noticed our presence there, it didn’t care enough to turn around and attack us!” Nero’s shouting broke the young woman out of her thoughts.

Lady was shocked, “That’s...”

Nero continued, “Let me tell you...that was undeniably one of the most bizarre-st of things I have ever witnessed in my entire career of demon hunting. Seriously, you know something’s gone wrong when even the blind one ignores the Sons and the Grandson of Sparda in favor of something else and decides to off itself.”

“You know...I think I remember witnessing something similar a while back like that out here...except, it was a behemoth arctic dragon and not a demon. The poor thing looked so scared too. I literally witnessed the dragon throw itself off a cliff and into a pool of hot lava in the other cave I was exploring not too far away from here. It was awful,” Jane threw her own two cents in.

Nero and the other two turned to her, horrified.

“Yeah! See what I mean guys?!”

“Okay, that is disturbing...” Alvin and Lady said in unison. “I can’t even begin to imagine...” they trailed off, unable to finish their thoughts.

Jane nodded solemnly, and turned away. In a way, she supposed it was a good thing that neither one of them weren’t there to see and hear the reptilian monster’s shrieks of agony as it was burned alive...

Or experience the horror and helplessness she felt after when its body finally melted and sunk under the lava, cooling its boiling surface as a fog of mist rolled up and covered the area.

...That image gave her plenty of nightmares. And still does to this day, but not as much, thankfully.

“Every monster, animal, and creature out there, except for the majority of us “humans”, knows what’s up. They sense...something. I think it’s about time we should do the same because I don’t think this weather is going to get better anytime soon. At the rate this storm’s going...if it continues to get worse...worse than what’s happening right now, then I’m afraid we’ll all be in real big trouble,” Nero finished.

Alvin and Lady nodded.

“There’s also the issue with increased activity of anomalies happening up there that we need to worry about too,” Jane pointed out. 

Nero looked and blinked at her, “You mean up in space?”

Jane nodded.

“You’ve been keeping track of them, haven’t you? I thought you were supposed to be on break?” Lady gave her an exasperated look. “Wait...? Are you even on vacation or...”

The young brunette frowned, “Of course I’m on vacation. But that’s not going to completely stop me from doing work or making new exciting discoveries out here!”

The men shook their heads with a sweat drop while the devil huntress put hers down with a sigh.

“Oh Jane, what are we ever gonna do with you...”

Before the young scientist could come up with some kind of sarcastic response or retort, her body tensed up. 

And so did Nero’s.

‘What in the world...’ their eyes went wide in shock when they felt an overwhelming amount of energy appear on their radar, and it nearly crippled them to their knees not only because of how raw and powerful it was, but because of how darn close it was too. Like it was heading towards—

Lady narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on the shoulder strap holding up her Kalina Ann —that was placed on her back— when she saw Jane and Nero turn their attention to the sky. 

“You two sense something?” she asked, following their lead with her own eyes.

Without looking away or say anything, the two nodded.

“What the hell is that?!” Alvin blurted out, pointing a finger at the changing colors of the dark sky.

“Is that an aurora borealis forming?”

“I believe so.”

They couldn’t believe their eyes. Right before them, the rainy sky glowed once, then twice, and thrice. And suddenly, one by one, a stream of blue, green, yellow, purple, and white lights appeared. 

This, combined with the crazy weather that was still going on in the background, made the whole image look so...surreal. Like something straight out of a fantasy visual novel or videogame. It was hard to believe that something like this was happening right now.

“Whoa!”

“Hey look at that you guys!”

“It’s so pretty!”

And from the commotion they could hear a few floors down, it seems like the people shared their thoughts as well as they all came out and formed a single long line along the railing of the tower bridges below theirs to watch the strange phenomenon from their own respective floors. 

‘Brother is coming...?’ the faint whisper of a long, dormant feminine voice, one that Jane hasn’t heard in a long time, spoke up. ‘But something’s off... He feels...different...this time.’

‘Huh?!’ she uttered in complete surprise and confusion.

‘Brother should’ve been gone like the others...except for Mind and Time...but...’

Before the young woman could even begin to question the remnants of the Aether, she heard the sound of incoming footsteps.

“Auntie Jane!”

Jane and her friends turned to the side to see two people with black hair and brown eyes —one being in his early twenties while the other one was in her late twenties— running toward them.

“Hey Kagome... Hey Sota,” she said when the two stopped in front of her friends. “Aren’t you two supposed to be in class by now?” Jane looked at the siblings with furrowed brows, and crossed her arms.

“Yeah...” Kagome said. “But we got an email earlier from all of our professors saying that classes are cancelled for the rest of day. Power outage and all of that,” she explained with a small shrug.

“And you two thought it was a bright idea to come out here where it’s pouring like cats and dogs, and risk catching a cold or getting struck by lightning, instead of going back to your dorm rooms where it’s warm and cozy inside?”

The two flinched at that.

“Well, when you put it like that...” Sota trailed off when he saw the dark look on the older woman’s face. “Nevermind! It was a stupid idea,” he quickly bowed his head in apology, his eyes filled deep shame.

“Yeah, we’re sorry, Auntie...” Kagome quietly said, fiddling with the end of her shirt’s sleeves.

Jane sighed, “Just don’t...don’t ever do something so reckless like that ever again, okay?”

Sota nodded, silently, while Kagome looked at the woman, worriedly.

“You’re not going to tell Dad are you?” she asked with slight hesitance in her voice.

Jane uncrossed her arms and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh, “I should, but I’m not going to...” then opened them back up and looked away. “Not this time at least,” she mumbled that last part like it was an afterthought.

The two black haired siblings looked a little relieved at. 

“Umm...what is that?”

Everyone looked in the direction where Alvin was pointing at and saw what looked like a meteor falling from the sky. 

“Is that a meteor?”

“It looks like it—”

BOOM!

The loud rumble of thunder startled everyone standing within their own respective tower bridge floors so badly that some fell back on their butts while a few almost went over the railings if it hadn’t been for those nearby who pulled them back up.

BOOM!

Seconds later, a sudden giant flash of lightning appeared, nearly way too close for comfort, and light up the whole sky, blinding the crowd who let out surprised screams and covered their eyes. Because of this, they missed the second flash of lightning, and this time, it struck something.

KABOOM!

The crowd opened their eyes and looked up just in time to see the ball of fire get knocked off its course, and instead of getting destroyed upon contact like they thought would happen, the meteor flew to the side.

And much to their surprise, it was now hurtling itself straight towards the ground at an alarming speed.

‘Oh no…’

Before anyone could shout out a warning, the meteor flew out of sight behind the trees and landed somewhere in the valley with an explosive crash, sending out a massive shock wave of energy that rippled through the earth along with a bright blue light that engulfed them and the area whole.

                                             XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pain…so much pain…

Deep and agonizing…

He could feel it in his tail…

His legs…

His groin area…

His chest…

His arms and shoulders…

And finally, along the wings on his throbbing back, which felt like they were on fire.  

No matter which way he turned, or even if he moved just less than a centimeter, his body roared in protest. And he bit back a whine, nearly biting his own tongue off in this process, as he flopped back to the ground, which smelled like burnt grass, and the strong stench of it nearly made him gag behind the muzzle that was still somehow attached to his beak.

It, along with the pain, brought him to tears. A surge of anger and frustration burned through him as they leaked from his eyes and ran down his furry cheeks and over his bleeding cuts, stinging the hell out of him.

As the defeated god continued to lay there on the wet ground, broken and bleeding in a pool of his own blood, only one thought ran through his aching mind as his muted green eyes surveyed the lightning flashing so ominously —almost mockingly at him it seems— in the dark rainy sky before they slowly shut closed.

Why…? Why was he still alive? 

                                              XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nothing but silence filled the air. Questions flew through the minds of everyone standing or sitting completely still in their spots, eyes shut closed behind arms that came up to cover their heads from the blast that occurred a minute ago.

Right as the people were beginning to give up hope, wondering if they were still alive or not, their ears picked up a new sound.

“Oh my god...!” Sota whispered in awe.

Slowly, everyone’s eyes fluttered open and they looked up to see Dr. Foster along with Stark’s Eldest Daughter hovering in the air a few feet away from the citadel, with their arms stretched out, behind a dome of swirling energy that hummed and glowed bluish-white.

Alvin along with everyone else gasped in realization at what the two ladies had just done.

“It’s a barrier,” Lady confirmed.

Whispers broke out amongst the people as Jane Valerie Foster and Kagome Higurashi Stark lowered their arms and lifted the barrier up.

“I think a small group of us should go check out what crashed down there.”

Alvin along with Sota and Lady frowned at Kagome’s suggestion.

“Uhh, Little lady, I don’t think—” the ex-mercenary trailed off in shock as an explosive burst of mana in the shape of bright purple and white flames erupted from the young scientist’s body and engulfed her whole. “What the...!” then within mere seconds, a newly transformed Jane broke free from the veil of mana-like fire.

No longer was there a human hovering in front of them all, but a canine-vulpine spirit with flowing waist length orange hair and yellow-red highlights, large fire colored wolf ears, and four fire colored fox tails with black tips at the ends.

“She’s right, you know…” Jane looked over her shoulder at the crowd, her purple eyes encased in the black sclera staring intently into their own orbs. “Someone’s gotta go down there and make sure it’s just that, a meteor.”

The frown on Lady’s face deepened. 

“And if it’s a threat?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

It was at this point Nero knew what he wanted to do, so he made his first move. He stretched and placed a hand on the devil huntress’ shoulder, making her look up at him in surprise. “Then we will get rid of it,” the spiky faux haired devil hunter said as he gave Lady a reassuring look and a single pat, released her shoulder, and walked past her. “It’s just as simple as that,” he grabbed a hold of the railing and leaped over it.

“Nero…” Lady watched the young quarter demon transform in a flash of blue light with a gleam of worry in her heterochromia eyes. 

“Don’t worry, Lady! We’ll be fine,” Nero threw a confident smirk over his shoulder, his voice a bit gruff and demonic due to him being in his Devil Trigger form, as he joined Jane and Kagome in the sky.

“You better, Nero!” Lady gave him warning as she and others waved at them. “And you too, Jane! Kagome!”

The transformed devil hunter chuckled in response while the two ladies smiled. “Okay...” Jane looked between her friend and niece figure and motioned the two to move closer to her. “Ready?” she asked when they both grabbed her hands.

“I am.”

“You betcha.”

“Alrighty then.”

In a flash of bluish-white light, all three of them disappeared.

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While he waited for the inevitable—or for something to happen, Loki dreamed.

He dreamed he was in a grassy field surrounded by darkness and filled with a lot of white noise. There was chit chatter flowing all around him. It took up the majority of his attention, and he wanted to know what it was all about.

So he concentrated, and listened, blocking everything out of his mind such as the downpour of rain and some kind of balls of ice hitting him —not that he could feel them of course, but he can definitely hear them make contact with his body— and the sensation of...something...entering his numbed body. He focused on the words and not their meanings.

He heard three voices. One male and two females. The god didn’t have a clue on what their identities or origins were, although one of them did sound slightly familiar to him. 

How strange...

“—Can’t believe this one griffin caused all of this damage here.”

“Well, thankfully he didn’t crash into the ocean; otherwise, he would’ve drowned. And I’m sure something like that would’ve made it into the news on TV too.”

“Yeah...”

“Still, it’s incredible that he not only survived the fall, but survived getting struck by lightning too. Tough little guy he is.”

“Mhmm... When’s Nero coming back?”

“Hopefully soon. That powerful surge he and I felt earlier...I hope he finds it and recovers it before anyone else does. A power like that should not be left unattended. It would be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands if anyone with...questionable intentions were to get a hold of it.”

Shit... They were talking about the Tesseract. How did he not realize he’d drop it?!

“You...you have an idea of what it was, Auntie?”

“Sort of...” the female voice —the one that sounded vaguely familiar to him and had a slight melodic tone to it— paused. “It had the feel of an Infinity Stone, I think. Not sure which one just yet.”

“Unless Nero finds it and brings it back, right?”

“Right.”

Oh that’s just fantastic now. He was on this dreadful backwater planet. On freaking Midgard. Where? He didn’t know and didn’t care. But still, it made sense that he would get found by some Midgardians sooner or later. The only thing that confused him though was how in all of Yggdrasil do they know about the Infinity Stones?

“You can take over from here, Auntie. My ki energy is getting pretty low...” the other female panted in a low voice.

Suddenly, that sensation he felt earlier—and promptly ignored, which he didn’t know why he did it in the first place— changed. It felt much warmer than the first one now. More powerful. And much more different, but still felt soothing all the same.

Almost like—

Loki’s eyes snapped wide open, and he wildly looked around the area, completely ignoring the tired black haired Midgardian woman sitting off to the side, for the one who—

“Stop! You’ll hurt yourself more if you continue doing that!”

Small yet warm delicate hands —that were dark blue in color. Odd?— held his face still and a wave of some unknown energy that felt almost like magic washed over him, clearing both his mind and emotions. Calming him down even.

In fact...his fear was now gone, much to his shock. 

How...? How did she even manage to...

“Better now?”

Despite his vision being somewhat blurry, Loki slowly looked up and paused at the sight. He blinked in...surprise? Awe? Confusion? He truly didn’t know.

Shiny purple eyes, which glowed like amethyst gemstones from the bright greenish-yellow and white light coming off her hands, surrounded in a pool of black stared back into his green ones.

And that hair...it reminded him the colors of an evening sunset, which complimented the fire colored ears on top of her head quite nicely—huh?

What...was that?

Something in his peripheral vision moved, and one quick glance down with his eyes told him exactly what it was. 

Four beautiful long fire colored tails with black tips—that looked so fluffy and so soft that if he even remotely had the ability to move right now, he would touch them and test them to see if they were as soft as they truly looked, sat curled around the woman’s waist and ran along the length of his body from each side.

And wait a minute... Was he...? Actually, what was he sitting on? He could’ve sworn he saw...

His eyes darted back down again and...oh. He froze in shock at the sight of himself lying on his back in the woman's lap. How in the world did he get there?!

And more importantly, why did it take him this long to realize this sort of thing?!

“There! You should be fine for now.”

He blinked when the glowing light from her hands disappeared. And somehow, he felt better.

Not completely better...

But a little bit better than he did a few minutes ago.

This was definitely one of the weirdest dreams he’s ever had in a long time.

“Jane! Kagome! I found the source of the power!” a young Midgardian man with shocking white hair, to his complete astonishment, ran in holding a familiar glowing object in a transparent case of some sorts. “This is what we felt earlier, Jane!” he held it up for them to see.

“Nero! You’re back!” the woman with black hair, called Kagome, spoke.

“It’s the Tesseract...” the strange sunset haired woman, the one called Jane, uttered in shock. 

Jane... 

That name... 

Why did that name sound so familiar to him? Could it be possible that he heard that name before from somewhere? There were so, so many questions he had flowing through his mind like crazy now...

Damn...if only his head didn’t hurt so much right now...if only he didn’t feel so bloody tired...

Or dizzy at the moment—

“Oh hey! The little guy's awake,” the Nero guy said and stared at him. “He actually looks ready to pass out at any second now.”

The two women looked at him, and sure enough, he could hear the darkness calling out to him. 

“Oh no...”

“Hey little guy!”

“C’mon! Stay awake, Little one!”

Their expression of concern was the last thing he saw before his whole world went black. 

And because of this, the God of Mischief missed the chance to see Nero storing the case away in one of his dimensional pockets and transforming back into his DT form, missed the way Jane and Kagome picked him up and held him in their arms, and he definitely missed the way the three gathered around him in a circle, holding onto each other and him, before all four of them teleported out of the area.

[akaseru]

I’m gonna start with my supernatural au. If you follow me then you’ll have seen me mention it as the Demon!Juls AU. This is gonna be a long piece when finished. I have tentatively titled it At the edge of the hellfire, but I’m sure that’ll change when I finally post it on AO3 -so keep an eye out for it. I’m still working on the first chapter which is the hardest due to some heavy shit in it. Below the read line is a whole ass scene I already have written that takes place further in the fic; however, it is technically incomplete and will likely undergo some changes when I actually reach that point.

 Juliana stared deeply into Valentina’s eyes in the grandest gesture of trust she could provide; looking into ocean-eyes that could perfectly reflect the owner’s emotions; staring into cerulean orbs that made Juliana feel like she was seen; eyes that literally had the power to make the raven-haired woman do whatever the vampire wanted – something the hunter would willingly do even without compulsion.

Juliana brought her right hand up to cradle Valentina’s cheek, absentmindedly stroking it with her thumb until she caught sight of the stark contrast between the black glove on her hand and Valentina’s skin. Just like that the spark of whatever Juliana could feel was happening between them completely evaporated, leaving her awash in a steadily rising tension borne from apprehension and guilt. Just before Valentina could close the distance between their lips Juliana turned her head to the side while maintaining (the connection at their foreheads/the contact point at their foreheads). The younger woman closed her eyes not wanting to see how the vampire was looking at her, didn’t want to think about what she would see in Val’s blue eyes – especially after she told her the truth.

Valentina, ever in tune and seemingly sensing her tumultuous thoughts, whispered a simple “Juls” weighted with a concern and confusion Juliana could feel like every embrace they have shared in the short time they have known one another. The care in Valentina’s voice was too much to handle and Juliana released a shaky breath before pulling away and severing any physical contact between them. Valentina was not to be deterred however, and Juliana could sense the older woman taking a hesitant step forward as a hand gently held hers.

“Juls, mírame.” The words ghosted across the shorter woman’s face accompanied by the sensation of Valentina rubbing her knuckles.

The hunter only closed her eyes tighter and felt tears gather at the corners. Juliana couldn’t bear it. There was no point in denying it. This ethereal creature looked at her with the kind of love she had never really seen or received from anyone save her mother, and even then, it felt like something more. The mere thought of squandering the light in her eyes, being looked at with the same contempt and revulsion others have directed at the hybrid upon learning of her heritage – like she was less than human and a scourge upon the earth? Juliana could take it from other people, but if she received it from the selfless vampire as well…it would break her.

“Val, I-” and dammit all if she couldn’t stop her voice from cracking. It sounded slightly hysterical to her own ears.

“Juliana, mi amor, mírame,” Valentina entreated, worry creeping into her voice as she wiped a tear from the corner of the younger woman’s eye, brushing raven locks back before cupping her neck. “Por favor.” The vampire’s voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. Like she too could sense that everything was about to fall apart.

That’s what did Juliana in, the endearment that rolled so effortlessly off her tongue, that broken whisper. Her heart tore in two at the sound. For all her otherworldly strength, Juliana doesn’t think she could deny this compassionate creature anything. More than anything, she deserved to know the truth about the woman she chose to spend her time with…even if it destroyed the hybrid and the more-than-friendship growing between them. Juliana took a deep breath and turned her head in the vampire’s direction before opening her eyes.

“Val,” Brown eyes met misty orbs the color of a stormy sea, the most honest and human individual she had ever had the honor meet, and committed every detail about her to memory. Juliana could feel her eyes starting to water and she looked up briefly to get them under control before she looked back at Valentina, willing her voice to stay even as she bared what was left of her soul, poised to shatter whatever illusion they had been living in and witness the end of the best thing that has ever happened in her life thus far.

“Valentina,” she licked her lips in a desperate attempt to bring some moisture to her suddenly dry mouth. The hybrid briefly looked down at their joined hand and reveled in the knowledge of someone fitting so effortlessly with her. Valentina gave her hand a brief squeeze of encouragement. “I’m not human.”

The vampire gave Juliana a lazy and relieved half smile. “Yeah?” She leaned forward and lightly brushed her nose against the younger woman’s, the intimate action relaxing the hunter despite the veritable hurricane of emotions churning inside her. Juliana was suddenly struck with the thought that she may have confirmed the vampire’s suspicions. “You thought that I would have a problem with-”

Juliana gave a mirthless laugh and shook her head, the action making the older woman tilt her head in confusion and bite her lip in thought. “No, Valentina, escuchame. I’m not human,” she reiterated.

Valentina looked deeply into her eyes almost as if she was searching for something. She then directed her gaze to Juliana’s gloved right hand and held it between both of her own. It shouldn’t have surprised the hybrid that the vampire had quickly sussed out what caused the sudden change, they are so attuned to each other, but it did, which made things that much harder. Valentina raised the gloved hand to eye-level and looked at her beseechingly. Juliana gave a barely discernable nod of acknowledgement and the older woman gave her a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Valentina held the hunter’s wrist in one hand and gently pulled off the leather glove with other, slowly revealing keratinous plate-like scales that covered the back of Juliana’s hand like armor in a black so dark it shined with a blueish hue. As Valentina revealed the first set of knuckles she became aware of a slight pulsing glow that wrapped around the back of the hand and knuckles, the same shade of blue-purple as lightning. Juliana could see the exact moment the other woman realized it was coming from the “skin” that wasn’t covered as the vampire stared in awe. Valentina continued removing the glove discovering that after the second knuckle the skin was free of scales. The taller woman finished taking off the glove and touched the thinner and smoother skin of the fingers that ended in claw-like points, fascinated by the faint but steady glow of her palm.

There must have been something in Juliana’s gaze or the way that she seemed to brace herself that the vampire realized there was more and correctly surmised that the last remaining barrier was the jacket. As Valentina made to slide the jacket off Juliana’s shoulders the hunter broke eye contact and stared at the floor in shame while she quickly shucked the jacket off herself. Juliana shut her eyes tight and held back tears as she revealed that almost the entirety of her right arm was just as monstrous as her hand. She didn’t even bother to suppress the way she flinched when Valentina gasped at the sight.

And the truth shall set you free, she bitterly thought all the while revealing her true nature in a statement devoid of the warmth that once lingered between them. “I’m a demon.” She didn’t care about the nuances or the fact that she was only a quarter demon; it was all anyone focused on, so she said the only thing others heard – the only thing that mattered. In the deafening silence that followed Juliana refused to look at Valentina and was mentally preparing herself to sever ties with this amazing woman.

[P] Creatures were still viewed as human in the community, but not demons – especially not a half-breed like herself. Even amongst fellow demons she was met with scorn. Demons or devils or whatever people referred to them as were something to be equally feared and despised, and three years of being on the receiving end of such attitudes on top of the childhood she endured and things she’d done made her believe in that rhetoric.

There was a light touch on her palm as a hand slowly trailed down her arm, tracing the path of the glow running intermittently down the center. When the hand finished its path to the back of Juliana’s hand it was cupped tenderly between two points of warmth and was slowly being raised. At the first brush of Valentina’s cheek against her palm tears were cascading down Juliana’s cheeks, and when Valentina pressed a kiss inside her hand there was nothing the shorter woman could do to stop the sobs that violently wracked her body. Valentina kept Juliana’s hand pressed against her cheek and used the other to cup the shorter girl’s neck and bring the hunter closer to her, kissing away the trails left by tears.

“Oh, mi amor,” the vampire whispered reverently before pressing a soft but lingering kiss to Juliana’s lips. The action incited a fresh wave of tears and choked sobs as she pulled the hunter closer to her in a tight embrace, tucking the younger woman’s head against her neck.

[redrobinfection]

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

JayTim | Complicated Relationship | Angst | Betrayal | UST | One-Sided Attraction | 5.4K (below read more link) | Read on Ao3

AN: This fic is a gift to @chibinightowl for the 2018 JayTim Secret Santa Exchange. It represents a small portion of a much larger AU developed for the prompt "Pirate Captain Jason and Privateer Captain Tim chasing each other around ocean and ending up marooned together"… maybe someday chibi_nightowl and I will share the rest with everyone else ;)

---

A stiff wind beats against their ship, sending chilly spray up over the bow and into the faces of his haggard crew. Captain Timothy Drake bears the sharp gust and biting spray with grim equanimity.

"Captain, please! This is our thirtieth watch since we began this hellish grind and if we stay on this heading, we'll run right into those storms brewing right o'er the horizon. Let us break off and seek calmer seas."

Stephanie's - his navigator - words roar around him like the sea, but he doesn't yield anymore to her than he does to the roughening surf. He knows a storm is brewing - he can smell it, feel it even - but he doesn't care. His eyes are fixed on a hazy smudge on the horizon, his target of nearly eight days now, and he'll be damned if he lets it go. Not now. Not after so long…

"Cassie, please, you know I speak sense! Help, me convince him!"

Tim feels a light touch on his arm and turns to his first mate, the fierce Cassandra Sandsmark, who is peering into his face with equal parts concern and steely resolve.

"Tim, I agree with Stephanie on this. Our crew is lagging, the winds are rising, and if we don't turn back soon we'll likely be caught out in this storm. We weren't equipped for a jaunt much longer than a few days and we aren't rigged for open water. We've given those pirates a good run of it, but time and fortune are against us now. We need to turn back."

He frowns. "Re-rig the ship and begin tying down loose articles, but we won't turn back until they do. We'll smash these bastards between our hull and the storm if we have to. Those are your orders," he reiterates firmly, eyeing both of them sternly. Cassie tsks in exasperation and Steph scrubs her hands through her hair with a sound of frustration. Conner Kent and Bartholomew Allen, two more of his trusted lieutenants look up from across the ship in concern and curiosity.

"Captain, really, the crew is-

"These seas will tear us to flots-

"Enough!" Tim cuts across them, tearing his eyes away from his target to stare them down. "I hear your concerns and, as always, I appreciate your candor, but my decision stands. Maintain visual contact and move to intercept at best possible speed."

Cassie and Steph share a look, but in the end, they are still his best and truest. They salute him crisply for the whole crew to see. "Aye, Captain!" Cassie immediately turns to the crew and begins issuing orders to adjust the rigging, but Steph hangs back.

"If I may speak freely-" Steph begins in a low voice.

"I doubt you'd hold back even if I asked," Tim replies drily.

"-and as your friend," she continues, her acknowledging grin still tinged with worry, "the crew would feel a whole lot better about this rough haul if we knew what was so important about this one measly ship." She sighs and tilts her head back, rolling one shoulder. "Every person on this ship trusts you with their life and would follow you into hell itself, but it's not often you to lead us on in the dark. The crew is antsy, tired, confused, unmotivated..."

Tim opens his mouth but Steph presses on, turning to fix him with the full force of her icy blue stare. "They see a fire in your eyes and wait for you to light it in their hearts, but instead you keep your reasons to yourself and lead us on this wild goose chase, into a storm, in open water, and all for what?"

"Steph-"

"Hell, even I'm feeling a touch flighty, not knowing if you'll sacrifice us to Davy Jones just to catch a single ship and ne'er e’en tell us what's worth more'n our lives to-"

"Steph!" Tim finally bellows, shaking his head and turning her away from the crew. She colors but holds his gaze. He sighs and leans in.

"The man on that boat wearing the captain's tricorner, he's the reason I came to Bristol," Tim tells her quietly. Steph's eyes widen.

"Wait. He's the one that…"

"Aye, the very one."

Steph covers her mouth with one hand and stares over Tim's shoulder toward the ship in the distance. "No… are you sure?"

"Completely. And even if I wasn't, that ship flies known pirate colors; as privateers in service of the crown, we'd chase them down for entering crown territory in any case. But…" he trails off and his eyes harden. "I'm sure, Steph."

Steph's gaze hardens as well and a spark of something fierce and wild - the very spark that caught his eye back when he first put together his privateer crew back in Bristol - lights up her eyes. "In that case we'll have to prepare a proper 'thank you' for him, eh?" Steph cracks her knuckles and grins savagely. Tim shakes his head fondly. "May I share this news with the crew?" she asks him beseechingly. "They'll be wanting to share their 'thanks' with this bastard as well, I'd imagine."

Tim hesitates, but nods stiffly. "Aye, but keep it brief. They don't need my whole bloody life story, Stephanie."

"Aye, Captain," she replies with a jaunty salute that barely disguises the rage behind her eyes as she turns to the crew and begins to walk the length of the ship, calling out in a loud voice, "Okay, listen up you sorry lot, we've got a grand personage on that boat up ahead-"

Heads come up and eyes turn toward her while Tim does his best to tune out her voice. He turns his gaze back to the ship in the distance.

"-that very cur that once tried his damnedest to betray and murder our esteemed captain-"

A distant part of him can feel his crew's eyes on him, but his mind is elsewhere, imagining a face, imagining the look on it when they overtake that ship, board it, then sink it to the depths.

"-one Jason bloody Todd, scourge of the Caribbean, and foulest among pirates! I expect you all to give him your 'warmest regards'-"

Murmurs rise among the crew, heads nodding. Cassie looks surprised and furious, but she turns her fury toward the horizon. In the background, Conner's face takes on a dark cast and Bart cracks his knuckles with a wicked grin.

"-so what say you, crew of the Red Robin? You ready to catch this sonofabitch and send his sorry excuse of a ship down to the murky deep?"

"Aye!"

Tim smiles grimly into the biting wind and imagines the face of one Jason Peter Todd in the moment he gets his long-overdue comeuppance.

"All hands on deck for best available speed and make preparations to board!"

"Aye!"

He smiles and looks in grim satisfaction to the storm ahead.

~*~

"Jason? Jason! Damn you to the depths, Jason Todd! Listen to me when I talk!"

Jason nods absently, his eyes fixed on a slip of a ship far off to their stern. "I hear you, Roy…"

"But you don't listen!" Roy bites back, stepping between Jason and his view of the tailing ship. Roy frowns. "All you want to do is stare dreamily back at that damned ship and mutter to yourself. You're lucky Kori has her wits about her or they would have caught us naught but five minutes out of port."

"I can't believe it, Roy, it's him, it's really him..."

Roy, his third-in-command, rolls his eyes. "You keep saying that, but who is 'him'? Who is on that ship that has you so moony you would've about thrown yourself under their keel if we hadn't hauled you away?"

Jason scowls and rips his eyes away from the horizon. "It's him, Roy. The one I thought I’d…"

"Is that supposed to mean something to- OH," Roy's eyes widen as he remembers a drunken confession Jason made to him over too many brandies all those months ago back when Jason first brought their crew together.

"He's the one you killed while hopped up on Joker's Breath? Back when you tried to take the Batfang out from under ol' Bluebird?"

Jason winces, but nods. "Aye. Him. Tim."

"Tim, huh?" Roy looks uncertain. "Are you sure? You only got a glimpse of him before they raised the alarm and Kori sped us away, thank God in heaven for the good head on her shoulders."

Jason nods and turns his gaze back to the distant ship. "I'd know that face anywhere, Roy. It's him."

Roy rolls his eyes again. "Okay… well, I guess you didn't kill him after all, but considering the fuss he's put up trying to run us down, I can't imagine he's all too happy over the attempt."

"I don't care," Jason says. "He's alive. I could sing, Roy. My God, he's alive…" He runs his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, teasing it into wild, unkempt spikes.

"Yes," Roy responds flatly. "Actually, it's been eight days, Jason, how has this not sunk in yet?"

"He's really alive…"

Roy closes his eyes and tips his head back, groaning. He crosses himself. "God in heaven, preserve us…"

"Save some of those prayers for the hours to come, Roy Harper. We'll be needing them once this storm breaks," First Mate Kori Anders tells him as she approaches from behind.

"They must be suicidal following us into this storm," Roy comments wryly.

"A trait we clearly share, since we're headed into it ourselves!" their helmswoman Artemis calls back over her shoulder.

"Aye, but you'd have thought they'd've turned back by now," Roy muses, rubbing his chin. “It was a mad plan, but it should’ve worked a charm...”

"Never underestimate the lengths to which a pirate - former or otherwise - will go to set to rights a wrong committed against them," Kori comments blithely, pulling out her looking glass. She sighs after a moment and turns to Jason.

"Captain, there is nothing for it. We cannot outrun them and we are vastly outgunned. We must come about and bring the fight to them, on our own terms."

Jason nods. "No more running. I need to see him, one more time..."

Roy makes a sound of disgust as Kori frowns in confusion. "You're missing the point, Captain Todd. We're not planning to turn around to kiss your lover on the cheek. That man is after our blood; we need to make a stand, draw first blood and drive them off," he reminds him.

Jason finally turns his full attention on Roy, a blotchy flush rising on his cheeks. "He was not my lover, not after… No, we don't take the offensive today." Roy begins to interrupt him, but Jason persists, eyes taking on a grim cast.

"He's not after our blood, he's after mine," Jason tells them firmly. "I'll… I will speak with him. We will work this out." Kori and Roy raise their eyebrows, but wisely told their tongues. "We will defend ourselves, but we will not draw first blood. That is an order. Is that understood?"

Roy and Kori stiffen under his unyielding stare, their doubt and uncertainty yielding to trust borne of long partnership and camaraderie. "Aye, Captain."

"Come about! One-eighty to stern. Ready the sweeps and prepare arms! We fight to defend only, by strict order of the captain himself! Prepare for hard sprint at the word!" Kori orders the crew in a booming voice. Jason turns back to staring across the waves toward their shadow. Roy scrubs a hand across his face in exhaustion then hurries to help the crew prepare their vessel for the rough stretch ahead. Artemis and the rest of the crew of the Red Hood look around at each other uneasily, but comply without hesitation.

"Aye!"

~*~

"Tim, I'm so relieved you're alive! I don't even have the words to express how glad-"

"Save your breath, Jason!" Tim yells back hoarsely, fighting to be heard over the howl of wind and rain and pounding seas around them. He strikes out at Jason wildly, recklessly, forcing Jason closer to the edge of the steeply rolling deck.

They slide around on the slick planks and tumble over loose detritus in a frenzied dance, Tim striking out violently while Jason attempts to talk him down from his rage. Around them the crews mirror their fight, Tim's crew attacking with a vengeance while Jason's fight just to hold them at bay. Truthfully, it was all they could manage in any case, outnumbered as they were by Tim's privateers.

Kori's plan to turn back fast and hard and surprise Tim's crew worked a charm. They'd been taken off-guard so badly when the Red Hood had suddenly appeared out of nowhere on leeward side that they'd hadn't the time to run out their long guns and had instead begun immediate boarding, just as Jason and Kori had hoped. Unfortunately, the storm that had been brewing around them also arrived to the fight not long after they, and now it tossed their ships around like toys, threatening to take them both to the crushing deep for their troubles.

"Tim, I'm so, so sorry! I never meant-" Jason bellows over the wind, dodging another wide swing of Tim's staff.

"Shut up! Shut up and fight me, you arsehole! I don't want to hear your false apologies!" Tim howls back, launching himself heedlessly across the deck of his ship to strike again. "You. Tried. To. KILL! ME!" he pants out, his face livid in the sporadic flashes of lightning. "You. Ungrateful. Hog-brained. Ill-begotten. Betraying. Piece of filth! Fight back, you spavined cur! FIGHT MEEEEE!"

Jason lets Tim dart in close and rap him smartly across his side, but the younger pulls his blow almost immediately, looking all the more enraged for Jason having allowed the hit. Jason shakes his head, sending rain and seawater flying from his sodden hair. "I killed you, Tim, I watched you die and I'll never forgive myself! Never! I'm sorry, so sor-"

"LIAR!"

They both stagger as the ships lurch, and a sudden cry of fear rising from many mouths turns their heads to stare in horror at the massive swell rumbling toward the linked ships. Calls from both crews to pull back gangplanks, cut loose, and brace for impact are faint under the roar of the sea, but there is no way they can be ready in time.

Jason sees his chance and scrambles across a plank just before two of his crew push it off their rail, safely alighting on the deck of his own boat. He hears a cry and turns, eyes widening in horror as he watches Tim go down with the plank, eyes fixed on Jason's, one a hand still reaching out as if to snag his coattails and drag him down with him. He watches in slow motion as the back end of the plank rises while the other drops, striking Tim hard on the back of his head. Cries of alarm rise from some of Tim's crew as their captain goes limp and plummets like a stone into the inky surf. Jason moves without thinking, the roar of the sea and the screams of their crews dropping away as his world narrows down to a single point: Tim.

He dives headfirst into the gulf between their ships and lets the current take him. He searches wildly in the pitch black with his rapidly numbing limbs and nearly gasps in relief when his legs strike a large mass. He twists and turns, finally snagging an arm just before a wave flips them head-over-heels. He tugs the body close, wraps all four of his limbs around it while praying that it is, in fact, Tim, and waits for a lull.

His lungs are burning by the time he finds a chance to rise, slinging one arm around Tim while he uses the other to scrabble for the surface. They reach air just in time for him to suck in a quick breath before another wave pushes them down once more. A bolt of lightning illuminates a piece of flotsam that washes over them and Jason seizes it, hauling the body up and onto it in the next lull. Another flash reveals Tim's slack face and their two boats disappearing into the storm.

Not ideal, but he'll take any good fortune he can get along with the bad. There was no way their boats would be able to get to them in these rolling seas, anyway. They would all have to ride this out and see where they end up in the morning.

Jason turns Tim onto his side and thumps between his shoulder blades, breathing a shaky sigh of relief when he feels coughing. He climbs up beside Tim, throws an arm and leg over him, and braces himself to hang on for the both of them, for as long as it takes, until they ride out this storm.

~*~

Tim wakes slowly, the smell of wood smoke registering first, then the unpleasant, sticky-gritty feeling of taking an unplanned bath in seawater…

His eyes snap open and he lurches upright with a strangled gasp that dissolves into coughing. His throat feels awful and it stands to reason he might have swallowed a good portion of that seawater he bathed in, but he's currently coming up blank on why or how that might have occurred. That's fine; he's woken up this way more than once in his time as a pirate, and then later, as a privateer. One of many workplace hazards. It'll all come back to him eventually. Or it won't and he'll make due anyway. He always does.

A small sound draws his eyes across the fire to the sight of a man and in an instant it all comes back to him with a burning fury. "YOU!" he bellows, throwing himself at the man, at Jason Todd, nearly setting himself on fire in the process. Jason has the good grace to look guilty before surprise overtakes his features, but Tim is livid at the other things he sees there. Happiness. Affection. Lov-

"Tim! Easy! Take it easy, pajarito! You took a rough tumble and breathed no small amount of seawater before I fished you out last night!" he has the temerity to plead. Tim fumes.

"How dare you! You don't get to call me that anymore, you bloody mutineer!" he wheezes hoarsely, aiming a punch straight for that smug, handsome face that has the gall to look pained at the accusations.

The infuriating man catches his fist in a firm grip, but his shoulders wilt. "No, I don't suppose I do, at that. Tim, I'm so sor-"

"No!" Tim screams, ripping his fist away and launching himself at Jason anew. They tumble back into the sand and Tim rains open handed blows against Jason's ribs, causing him to grunt involuntarily. "I don't care how sorry you are! I don't want to hear it! That doesn't excuse you for conspiring against my friend - your own brother! That doesn't erase the damage you did to him! To us! And I absolutely refuse to let you weasel your way out of this after you stabbed me square in the chest and left me for dead!"

Jason bucks his hips and rolls them, pinning Tim's legs with his weight and pinning each hand with one of his own. Tim wriggles and fights like a man possessed, but Jason holds firm, staring down at Tim with that stupid, pretty, mournful face of his.

"I know I hurt y-

"You were my friend, Jason! My brother! More than a brother!" Tim howls, drowning out that bloody voice. He can't stand it, can't stand to hear it again after all these months, that same voice he hears in his dreams sometimes, whispering friendly quips and sweet nothings before it morphs into the low growl he heard just before he took a knife to a rib, lucky that he took it to a rib and not between them. "You were the closest thing I had to love and you tossed it all away like rubbish! And for what? For some new 'friends' of yours?"

"Tim, I-"

"I hate you! I despise you, and I will take you down for what you did, even if I have to come back from the dead to- hmmnf!"

Jason leans forward and shuts him up with a rough kiss, something so familiar and yet so strange after all that's happened. Tim lets himself go limp and kisses back after a moment, seeing an opportunity. He tells himself he doesn't enjoy the contact - that Jason is as striking as ever, but he doesn't want any part of that anymore - and that he's only letting his body fall back into this familiar rhythm in order to play along, but it messes with his head, nonetheless. Jason pulls back after a moment and stares down at Tim with an expression that is a vision of relief and guilt and joy all rolled into one. He’s beautiful, as always, but Tim isn't falling for that pretty face anymore. Never again, he swears.

"You've already come back from the dead, Tim," Jason tells him softly, easing up on his hands, then lifting one of his own to trace the line of Tim's face. "We both have, and I would gladly die aga-"

Tim uses that chance to flip them and summarily strikes Jason in the temple with his fist, dropping the man instantly. He scrambles off of him and drops back into the sand with a grunt. After a moment to catch his breath, he slowly begins taking in the island around them, studying the trees and the sand and the curve of the beach around them.

It looks... small. Intimate, even. No chance of him disappearing to some secluded corner and pretending he hasn’t just been marooned on an island with the one person he currently hates most in this world. After a moment he tilts his head back and releases a wheezy sigh.

"Well, fuck."

~*~

Jason groans, then attempts to bat away the scratchy object repeatedly nudging his cheek. All he wants to do is roll over and sleep off the awful pounding in his head. He shouldn't have let Roy talk him into having so much of that damn rum, he thinks hazily.

"Wake up, you lunk," a voice off to his right says, the scratchy object nudging with greater insistence.

"Lemme alone, Roy…" Jason begins to grumble until the tone and pitch of that voice registers and he snaps awake. "Tim!"

Tim Drake sits back on his heels with an sullen glare, but proffers a roughly cut half of a coconut that Jason accepts with shaky hands. There is coconut water in the cleaned out shell and suddenly Jason's thirst hits him hard and fast much like the wave that knocked them from their ships did hours ago. His memory of the last day and a half trickles back to him as he gulps down the sweet water gratefully.

"I still can't believe it's really you," Jason admits hoarsely once he catches his breath again.

"Well, it is, and I can't believe you thought it was a good idea to snog me into submission after everything you've already done," Tim replies, pinning him with a sharp look. Jason winces, and sets the coconut down in the sand.

"I'm sorry-"

"I swear, if I hear you say the word sorry one more time…" Tim growls, rolling his eyes in irritation. He sighs, then moves to put the campfire between them. Jason watches him warily. Tim glances over at him then rolls his eyes again.

"Relax, I'm not going to attack you again. For now," he adds with a slit-eyed glare. "I'm still upset with you and no amount of 'sorry's or 'I feel terribly about it' is going to change that, but we can't afford to be fighting each other right now." He gestures to the island around them. "I scouted out our new refuge. We could probably subsist here for weeks, if not months, but it’s a small island and we're all each other has on this sad little spit of land, so, for the time being I propose a truce."

"I agree, heartily," Jason says, clenching his hands together and twisting them, "but I can't live with myself if I don't at least try to amend for some fraction of-"

Tim shakes his head wearily. "I don't want to hear any of it, so don't waste your breath." He gives Jason with a searching look. "Words are cheap, Jason. If you want to prove to me how sorry you are for what you've done, then allow me to take you in to the proper authorities to pay for your crimes."

Jason opens his mouth, but Tim presses on, leaning in intimidatingly. "And know this, Jason Peter Todd: our truce lasts as long as we inhabit this island. As soon as we step off of it, I will spare no expense to bring you to justice. I'll chase you to world's end if need be. I swear on it."

Jason nods, feeling the burden of their shared past weighing heavily on him as replies. "I will."

Tim tilts his head in confusion. "What?"

"I accept your offer of escort to the ruling authorities of any port of your choosing, and I will readily give myself over to suffer whatever punishment they decree in the name of justice," Jason tells him, leaning in to meet Tim stare for stare. "I will never forgive myself for what I did to you - and to Dick - but if it puts your soul at ease, then I will gladly welcome whatever punishment is due to me under the eyes of the law."

Tim stares. "Jason… you'll hang for piracy," he states plainly.

"If that makes amends to you, even in the smallest bit, then I'll go to the gallows gladly," Jason replies, just as plainly.

Tim's eyes widen and his face pales under a slight flush of sunburn. He takes a moment to collect himself and Jason welcomes it, taking the opportunity to drink in the sight of Tim like a man dying of thirst.

Words are cheap, as Tim says, but Jason knows to the depths of his soul that he would go to the gallows happily just so long as Tim's face is his last sight on earth. After too many months of dreams, nay, nightmares that begin with kissing Tim and end with a knife lodged in Tim's chest, there is nothing more beautiful to Jason than the sight of Tim alive and well. Every moment he stares, even the moments of baleful glares and raised voices, feel like rain on parched earth, a balm for his burned and battered soul. He'll take soul-searing fire all day, any day over the horror and betrayal he sees in Tim's pretty ocean-blue eyes every night.

Eventually, Tim clears his throat, studying his woven fingers intently. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd… in all my dreams of this day, I'd pictured confronting you, imagined hauling you away, sometimes imagined keelhauling you or locking you away in my brig to rot, but... I don't think I've ever imagined you actually going to the noose." He glances up, showing Jason his first glimpse vulnerability in what feels like lifetimes. "If you did, I think I'd lose a part of myself on that noose…"

He trails off, deflates with a sigh, then scoots around the campfire until they're sitting roughly side by side. Jason could reach out a hand and touch his arm - he wants to, desperately, if only to confirm Tim’s real and this isn't just another dream - but he holds himself back.

"Explain."

Jason tilts his head and raises a brow in confusion.

"Explain to me what happened," Tim clarifies. "All these months, I've nursed my wounds and my wounded pride, but what really rankled most was never understanding why." The pain and betrayal Jason recalls in his dreams every night shines in Tim's eyes now, and he can't stand to see it, but he refuses to tear his eyes away, punishing himself with the sight of it.

"Why did you turn on Dick?” Tim demands. “Why did you stab me in the chest for something as silly as a Captain's mantle? What did those strange new friends of yours offer you to convince you to betray everything you'd worked for your entire life?"

Jason shakes his head. "They didn't offer; they poisoned," he corrected in a low voice. He plucks a long palm frond from their meager fire and stirs the glowing coals, picking his words wisely.

"Joker's Breath" - Tim's eyes widen in horrified understanding - "was what they offered, and I was fool enough to give in to their wheedling the second night after you'd left to scout ahead. One time was all it took to snag me in their web. By the time you came back…" Jason trails off, shaking his head and refusing to continue. It didn't matter why he did it, it only mattered that he did and he regretted every bit of it with every ounce of his soul.

"Explain," Tim demands again, eyes shining like blue steel in the firelight.

"All that matters is that I was a blasted, naïve fool for letting that riffraff pressure me into taking their poison, and then for letting it consume my every thought thereafter until Dick threw me into the brig to sweat it out," Jason tells him. "Everything that followed that moment of weakness was entirely my fault, and I will never forgive myself for a single bit of it. Never."

Tim lets out a long breath before he speaks again, slowly, as if he is choosing his words very deliberately. "Whether you forgive yourself is your affair, but if I am ever to forgive you - and a large part of me sorely wants to, if only for the benefit of my own peace and sanity - then I need to understand what happened."

He leans in close, catching Jason's gaze. "I need to hear your side of this. You may be surprised to hear it, but I, well…" - a blush darkens the redness in his cheeks and he fidgets but holds Jason's gaze doggedly - "As much as I was infuriated and confused and hurt by what happened that day, I still missed you."

Jason blinks in surprise and Tim nods to himself. "I still love you, despite it all,” Tim admits, “and not understanding how you could do this to me - to all of us - has made that love nothing but a terrible ache in my soul."

"You.. I…" Jason swallows, struggling. "I did all those terrible things and still you have it within you to love me?" he gasps incredulously.

"Yes, but love is funny, Jason. Never doubt for a moment that I also hate you just as much," Tim informs him bluntly. He narrows his eyes and points a finger into Jason's face threateningly. "I wasn't kidding about despising you. I despise what you did and I despise you…"

Jason gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"…but I can't stop loving who you were - who you may still be, somewhere deep down in that muddied soul of yours - and that is just the way it is," Tim concludes with a nod of finality.

Jason closes his mouth and lets out a long breath of his own. "So… you really want to hear my side of things? You're sure?"

The tension drains out of Tim's shoulders and he rolls them once before shooting him the ghost of a grin Jason knows all too well. "Please," he asks, his gentle tone at odds with the challenge in his expression, playfully daring Jason to defy him and see what happens. A marriage of steel and grace, Tim's hallmark style.

As if Jason would ever dare to defy this man's wishes. He scrubs a hand through his salt-sticky hair and drops the tension from his own shoulders, settling himself down before the long, anxious tale ahead. "Well, going back to where it all started, not long after you left on that ill-fated scouting trip…"

[thevampirecat]

If you ask me you should post, what you have written. Even if Frank doesn't show up. Of course I will wait for him, no matter how long it takes 😉 And I would love to read new stuff.

Thanks nonny. Part of me really does agree with you because this last chapter I’ve written is actually pretty good and emotional if I do say so myself. I actually got quite melancholy writing it (and I knew what was coming!).

My concern is how the chapter after that shapes up because it’s a bit plotty and I kind of feel like I’d like that ready to go as soon after this current one as I can. Luckily I am fairly far into it so it shouldn’t take that long. I just don’t really want to put up a frank free chapter, followed by another frank free chapter after a week or two. Also, the truth is I miss him, so I kind of need to power through this, so I don’t get despondent writing the bits that are less interesting for me, if you know what I mean...

It’s going well though... and I’m also into the next chapter of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea so maybe some fluffiness can come out of that...

Also please let me get my laptop next week, because all this phone writing is doing my head in.

💓💓💓

[shellheadtmarc]

Aww hell yeah. Asking historical questions is my jam. I've heard somewhere before that pirates wore earrings because they thought pierced ears would cure seasickness. Is that true?

i’m honestly about to ruin somebody’s childhood daydreams up in here and i’m honestly okay with that.  who?  dunno, but i’m sure it’ll happen.

okay so.  first things first as far as pirates go:  you would not - i repeat, would not -  be able to tell your average pirate from your average merchant sailor.  by which i mean to say after a murky, fuzzy chronological line, do sailor have tattoos?  then pirates have tattoos.  do sailors sometimes wear earrings?  pirates sometimes wear earrings.  because first and foremost, pirates were typically only pirates part time.  like it wasn’t a career option, it was something you did if a ship’s master was a dickbag or you needed to make a little extra money or you got kicked off a legitimate ship or left a legitimate ship because the master decided to change plans on a whim (because they could do that) and refused to pay you more.  or the master withheld pay and rations.  or-

what i’m saying is, piracy was kind of a last ditch option for a lot of honest sailors.

so, let’s touch on superstitions.  sailors, as a whole, were and are a superstitious lot.  even now bringing bananas onto a ship is a no no in the sailing world.  you don’t whistle on deck or you might whistle up a storm.  but in this case, earrings weren’t so much a part of that as they were for a very practical reason.

see, life at sea is hard.  it’s dangerous.  it’s really easy to die in a myriad of horrible, gruesome, awful ways.  cannonfire, falling overboard, getting crushed between ships, getting crushed by an unsecured gun (cannon) or unsecured cargo.  getting caught in the rigging.  getting smooshed during careening.  it’s not happy funtime, it’s hard, backbreaking labor.  combine that with, on a ship, most water was mixed with rum to keep it from going stagnant, you’ve got a crew that’s half tipsy literally all the time.  pirates with earrings in their ears didn’t wear them because they were backward (you had some educated men and women among the rank and file of piracy - blackbeard and stede bonnet are good examples) and the world was on the cusp of the germ theory (they were still half miasma/half humours at the time, but they understood outside forces were responsible for illness and that there were ways it could be prevented - the first inoculations would occur in the last quarter of the 18th c).

no, the reason people who sailed as a profession as a whole wore earrings was because it was fast and easy cash in an uncertain world.  if a sailor was stranded in port (either for bad behavior or because of illness) or died close to/in port, that was money.  if the person was alive, that gold could be traded for goods and services.  if they were dead...well.  it would pay for a funeral - a box in the ground in some strange, foreign port, sure, but a grave all the same.

like that’s it.  that’s the long and short of that.  pirates are 1000% less exotic and tarted up than we’ve made them in the last century or so (though the argument could be made it goes as far back as the late 1600s/early 1700s with the forging of legends and misstruths - i know, i wrote a humongous paper dealing with that very thing about the trials of the crew of henry every/avery and how they spurred both changes in public opinions concerning piracy and the laws in britain themsselves which hadn’t been touched since the 1530s or thereabouts).

a good book to check out with regards to the social history of pirates is marcus rediker’s between the devil and the deep blue sea: merchant seaman, pirates, and the anglo-american maritime world, 1700-1750.  rediker used to be THE name in caribbean and atlantic piracy but he’s moved on to another facet of maritime history iirc.  can’t recommend this book highly enough - for a monograph it’s surprisingly readable (rediker is actually a gr8 academic writer and his footnotes are the best parts), where he covers a lot of this stuff in dedicated chapters as well as hammering down that sailors and pirates are exactly the same thing, and that most sailors had, at some point or another, done a little bit of piracy.

i ama a historian : accepting : anon