#Hurt him? Cool; he suffered plenty of blows and pain

[siixkiing]

Aw, did I hit a nerve? Surely one as powerful as yourself wouldn't have to worry over such a thing happening. I mean, all you have to do is not piss someone off again—

Oh, wait, I seem to have forgotten that you have quite a few enemies.

Hm, I suppose you just can't risk leaving then. Otherwise, who knows what could happen to those sweet souls up there~

"Well, isn't this a shame?"

A small exhale of breath from the Monkey King's lips, golden flames being seem dancing in the air for mere moments. He supposed some fools never learned to heed warnings. Even knowing what he was capable of — the countless legends that surrounded him and his many exploits. That it had taken the intervention of the Great Buddha to put an end to his rampage or a fillet to keep him mostly tame?

It wasn't like he hadn't suffered ridicule before, heard the harsh words spewed at him — every insult been flung at him without care. That he could handle and endure. Having done it before. Torture too, remembering all the cruelty he had suffered at the hands of those who had wished to tame and break him of that spirit.

No, what was getting a rise out of the Great Sage was the mere audacity to aim threats at his subjects. To put his beloved family, the ones that meant more to him than his own life at risk. Or least imply such harm to them. It was one thing to go after him BUT it was another to go after his troop in such a callous way.

"Foolishness knows no bounds — "

" — no matter, I will deal with it."

Visage twisted and melting as a voice too utterly calm for such a mood shift seemed out of place. Dark stripes dancing across golden fur, blood red marking bleeding out from his eyes — the appearance he often took great pains to hide. To better suite the role of a Hero of Legend vanishing without a second thought. A soft hum building in his throat in stark contrast to the powerful aura that was now bleeding out from Wukong's very being.

This was one who could easily undo the world without much effort, make the world tremble and quake. Unleashed and untamable.

[hopepetal]

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Part Four!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

Impulse fell back into control of his own body in the same way one snapped out of a particularly long ADHD-induced dissociative state. Panicked, unthinking, and wondering how much time has it been? 

The book was still burning as Impulse instinctively reached out to snatch it from the flames, only fully processing a moment later that maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed something that was still actively on fire. With a cry of pain and shock, Impulse dropped the book onto the ground as the rain began to beat down more heavily. Stumbling back, he tripped over his own feet and fell, landing with a soft noise of pain as he held his injured hand close to his chest. 

For a moment, he sat there, the small fire put out by the heavy rain far too late. A fear the likes of which he had never felt before sat in his chest, causing his heart to race. 

What just happened to me? Is it going to happen again? My hand hurts I need to get it bandaged I need to TELL someone I can’t tell anyone what if it happens again what if I lose control and hurt someone what if– 

“Impulse?”

Once again, he was yanked from his spiraling thoughts by someone calling his name. Turning around perhaps just a bit too quickly, Impulse looked up to see Scar, sopping wet from the rain, standing behind him. “Scar,” he breathed out, equal parts relieved and terrified. “Scar, are you– are you okay?”

Scar frowned, his eyes immediately landing on Impulse’s burnt hand. “I… think I should be asking you that, Impulse. C’mere, we’re gonna get that all fixed up.” He carefully helped Impulse to his feet. “I’m not gonna ask what happened,” he began as they walked back to the main camp through the rain, “so don’t worry about that. But…” He sighed. “Just… Impulse, I– we– don’t want you to be suffering alone. We’re knights. We’re friends. We’re in this together.” 

Impulse nodded, trying to swallow that stubborn lump in his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, Scar.”

Mumbo, wearing a raincoat and holding an umbrella like any normal person would, waved to the two when they approached the tents. “Did you get caught in the rain?” he shouted, if only to be heard over the downpour. 

“No,” Scar called back, “we’re just naturally this wet!” 

“Oh, okay! Um, Grian and Pearl aren’t around, because, well, you know. Their wings,” Mumbo tried to explain, “their wings don’t– why am I explaining this to you, you both know this, goodness gracious…”

“Thanks Mumbo,” Scar said anyway, “are you gonna get inside? I don’t think this storm is gonna let up any time soon.” 

Mumbo shook his head. “This is actually the perfect time for me to study the possibility of harnessing lightning for power! Theoretically, it could work, but theoretically it could also blow me up. And to be honest, I can’t wait to see which one it is.”

“Have fun!” Scar called after him, before leading Impulse to the swaggon. Instead of tents like the other knights, he usually just stayed in the same place he did before joining the knights. “I have bandages and burn stuff here, because goodness knows I burn myself plenty when cooking. Just sit down right there…” He quickly rifled through one of his chests, before pulling out clean bandages and burn ointment. “Aaand I should have some water– how are you feeling, by the way?– here it is!”

As Scar helped Impulse cool the burn and clean his hand, Impulse was at a loss for words. Scar seemed to take note of that after a few minutes of him being unresponsive to the attempts at keeping the mood light hearted, and continued to silently bandage the treated burns. 

“I’m sorry,” Impulse began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Scar chuckled softly, understanding shining through in his eyes. “I think I’d know that feeling better than anyone, Impulse. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know I’ve done more than my fair share of… poorly thought out things… in the past.” 

Impulse had to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, I can think of a couple more memorable ones,” he admitted, “but I just… I dunno, Scar. I…” He sighed. “What would you think if I wasn’t human?”

Scar didn’t even pause. “I mean, Impulse, we’ve been over this a million times before. If you weren’t human, none of the knights would be.” He began to put away the bandages, ointment, and leftover water. 

Impulse frowned, shaking his head. “That’s not…” He flexed his right hand, testing to see how much he could move still, before placing it back in his lap. “What do you think of me now?” he pressed, looking back up at Scar.  

Scar smiled, turning back to Impulse. “Oh, that’s easy. You’re strong, kind, passionate, smart, a really good teacher, an amazing fighter, you’re funny, you’re creative, and just… you’re a great friend.”

“But what if I wasn’t…” Impulse tried to figure out how to word the question, bouncing his leg slightly. “What if I wasn’t just me?” 

Scar thought for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, I don’t think there’s any problem with bein’ that! And, Impulse…” He sat down so that he could be at Impulse’s eye level, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward. “You’re making it sound like there’s something wrong with being human.” He smiled kindly, but there was something that stopped it from reaching his eyes. “That’s what this is about, yeah? I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. With everything going on…”

Impulse shook his head, interrupting Scar. “No, no, no, there’s nothing wrong with being human! I just… what if the me I am isn’t good enough?”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Oh, Impulse.” Scar’s voice broke slightly on his name. “You are more than enough. You have always been. I’m so happy you’re one of my friends, a part of my life, you…” He took a deep breath, in and out. “If you could see the things you’ve done from an outside perspective, you’d see it– just how much you’ve changed and impacted lives. I…” he trailed off, caught for a moment in a fleeting memory. “I can say for a fact I’ve changed for the better since I met you. So please don’t ever say or think that you aren’t good enough. Because you are. Because you always have been.”

Impulse tried to blink away the tears that suddenly were welling up in his eyes, but it was too late. His vision blurred, and the next blink sent salty drops falling from his eyes to make dark spots on his fresh bandages. It was as if the dam burst with that, and tears began to fall in a steady stream as Impulse’s shoulders shook. 

All this pain, all this fear, all the self doubt and anxiety… and he wasn’t alone. He had never been, really. If it hadn’t been for him shutting the other knights out, he wouldn’t have ever ended up with a demon in his mind taking control whenever it wished. But now…

“Thank you, Scar,” Impulse got out, furiously wiping his eyes. “I… I think I needed to hear that.”

Scar nodded. “Of course. I… I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, and I wish I knew more to help you. But just… talk to us, okay? Or, gosh, I don’t know– talk to someone, at least! We won’t be able to help you if we don’t know you’re hurting.”

“Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Impulse wiped away what he hoped to be the last of his tears, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “I– I will. I promise I’ll talk to you guys more. And I’m really sorry about all of this.”

Scar waved his hand. “Ah, don’t be. We all have our moments.” He smiled tentatively. “Do you want to stay here with me and wait out the storm? We can make bets on if Mumbo’s new experiment blows up or not.”

Impulse grinned– a real, happy grin. “Sounds great.”

–

Somehow, things got better.

The first day Impulse woke up feeling well-rested, he could hardly believe it. But it continued to happen, again and again, until finally he was waking up at a much more normal time. 

“For you, maybe,” Grian had said, but the clear relief in his expression over Impulse’s “recovery” had taken away any snark intended. 

Slowly, Impulse began to heal. Not only from the burns, but from the exhaustion and lack of appetite as well. The animals seemed to forget all about their previous distrust of Impulse, though Jellie still was a little wary. He didn’t really mind, of course. The joy he felt from being able to settle back into his life again was enough.

The other knights were thrilled, too. It was like a fog had been lifted from the camp, and everything just felt… lighter.

“Alright.” Pearl interrupted the lively chatter during lunchtime about two weeks later, “we’re unfortunately getting a little low on vegetables and some other supplies. It’s been a while since Impulse and I brought back everything, and I don’t want it goin’ bad, ya hear?”

“Soup day?” Mumbo piped up, eyes wide. They’d all heard this speech a million times, and it was always something the knights looked forward to. 

Pearl nodded, smiling. “Soup day.”

“I don’t know why we call it soup day,” Grian mumbled, “it really ends up more like stew, if you ask me.”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Because, goofball, it’s tradition! And also, soup sounds nicer than stew.”

And so, Impulse found himself paired up with Scar, who kept watch over the pot and stirred while he chopped vegetables. 

“Whew!” Scar wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning away from the fire. “It's been a while since I've cooked. I forgot how hot everything gets!”

Impulse laughed. “Yes, that tends to happen with fire. Shocking.”

“Oh, you hush!” Scar grabbed a large spoon, waving it sternly in Impulse's direction before turning back to the pot. “You just keep cutting those veggies, mister.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Impulse turned back to the cutting board, reaching for the knife that lay beside it. 

Do it.

Impulse froze. His hand stopped where it was, hovering just over the knife. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment. He had to calm down. He was– he was just hearing things. Nothing was wrong. He was fine. The demon was gone. It had to be. It hadn’t spoken in weeks. Why would it show up again now?

Impulse picked up the knife, placing a washed and peeled carrot on the cutting board. He began to cut the carrot into thin slices with deft hands. In the background, he could hear Scar humming to himself as the fire crackled. 

It's just you and him. Alone. The words were like a fog settling over his mind, like icy hands gripping at his heart. An easy target.

Impulse's chopping stilled as he tensed up, before starting to cut again. His movements were sharper, harder, and one of the carrot slices flew off of the table. “Gosh–” He set the knife down, bending to pick the carrot slice up and throw it away. 

“You good, man?” Scar called from where he stood beside the fire, not turning to look away from the pot. “Havin' some troubles?”

He has his back to you.

“Nah,” Impulse joked, though his tone was a bit forced. “Just underestimated my own strength.” He straightened back up, gripping the edge of the table with his hands. 

No. No, no, no no no no. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not now. Not after he’d finally started to be happy again. 

The voice cooed softly in his head, a persuasive siren song. It would take nothing at all to kill him. Impulse found his hand drifting toward the knife, unable to stop. To stab him in the back... He picked it up. Somehow, this was different from the possession. Yes... feel the thirst... spill his blood–!

The demon wasn’t making him do anything. This time, it made him want to.

“No!” Impulse breathed out, stumbling back. He threw the knife down on the table. “Sorry, Scar. I gotta go. I'll tell Grian to come out and help you.” 

Impulse fled, not sticking around to hear Scar's confused “Wait–!”

–

“...just worried, is all. I know you see it too. It’s like whatever happened–”

Whatever conversation Grian and Pearl were having before Impulse interrupted had probably been important by the sound of it, but Impulse didn’t really have the time to feel guilty about that. Panicked, he looked back and forth between them both, still panting slightly. “Grian?” he got out, trying to force his voice to stay calm, “Grian, I need you to go help Scar. I– I can’t…” He trailed off as he realized just how stupid this all sounded. 

Pearl took a step toward him, her face unreadable. “Are you feeling alright, Impulse?” she asked, and after a moment, Impulse swallowed and nodded. “Are you sure, mate? You’re looking awfully pale.”

Grian said nothing, but Impulse noticed how his wings had slightly spread out, colourful feathers slightly puffing up. Grian had never been surprised by anyone before– he somehow always knew when someone was coming. So unless he had been angry at Pearl for some reason (which, thinking about it, wasn’t all that unbelievable), it had to have been Impulse who had set him off. 

…right?

Impulse just tried to smile and nod. “Um. Yeah. Sorry.” His eyes kept drifting back to Grian, which Pearl noticed.

She turned to Grian and smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey. Birdbrain. That’s Impulse, mhm? Our friend? Pull yourself together, goodness gracious.”

Grian blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Oh– was I staring? Uh, yeah, sorry about that.” His wings slowly folded back behind him, and he lost the alert posture. “Sorry. What was happening?”

“Nothing,” Impulse got out. “I’m good. I promise.”

Pathetic. He was pathetic. It wasn’t even that long ago when he’d had that conversation with Scar about reaching out, and being more open with the other knights. Guess this was just another thing he managed to screw up instantly. 

Impulse began to back away from the two. “The uh. The soup! Yeah, the soup’s almost done. I’ll see you guys at dinner…?”

Pearl smiled, if only to put him at ease. “Of course. See you at dinner, Impulse.”

Impulse began to walk away, and it was only when Grian and Pearl started talking again in hushed tones was he reminded that the contract with the demon gave him enhanced hearing. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to invade on their privacy–

“I told you. You could see it in his eyes.” 

“Grian, not now.” 

…especially when this was clearly about him.

Impulse ran the rest of the way back to Scar, and was all-too relieved to see that Mumbo was there as well. “Hey. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Oh, it’s alright!” Scar called over to him, “we’re just about finished up, so don’t you worry!”

“I got to chop the vegetables,” Mumbo added, “but really, I’ve been thinking– it would be quite simple to just get an automatic…” He started to ramble about his idea of an automatic vegetable cutter, but Impulse found he couldn’t quite follow along as well as he’d hope to.

The demon was back. Or maybe it had never left. And not only could it speak to Impulse and possess him but it could influence him as well. 

Impulse was strong. He had trained all his life to hone his strength and skills. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t breathe underwater, couldn’t withstand a fiery blaze, and most certainly couldn’t teleport. But he was strong. In terms of pure physical strength, none of the other knights stood a chance.

And that terrified him. 

Dinner went by in a blur, and it felt as though barely a moment had passed by when Impulse laid down to sleep. He had been stuck in a sort of zoned out state ever since the demon had reappeared, and only now did his head feel more clear.

Today had been a warning. What happened with Scar– Impulse could’ve killed him. The fact that he hadn’t was frankly a miracle. But it would happen again. The demon would speak to him and he would pick up the knife and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself in time. 

Tomorrow.

Impulse would leave camp tomorrow, and he would run until he was far, far away from anyone he could hurt.

But for now, he needed to sleep.

[helena-thessaloniki]

Hi Helena! Big fan of your writing here🥺♥️ Your rivamika fics are my safe space 😭 (if you have time to answer) i’d love to know when you first started shipping them, why, and what made you continue to love this ship (or anything else to do with your journey as an RM shipper)? i love your characterisation of both levi and mikasa individually, but even more so, your portrayal of their dynamic as a couple, which is why i wanted to ask so badly ☺️ x

Hey anon! Oh woah, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, oh god, you probably shouldn't have handed me the mic. heh 😅

I’m afraid to look at the word count of this response, I’m sure it’s much more than you bargained for, but I appreciate the question and enjoyed thinking through my response (: Most importantly, I’m so glad you find my stories as a safe space. It’s really an honor. Thank you for sharing with me 🖤🖤

TL; DR As a longtime reader, writer and lover of stories and story-telling, by being someone who pays attention to how stories are crafted and deliberately developed from beginning to end, I sincerely thought Isayama was setting up rivamika as an endgame relationship. So, I read into and interpreted meaning out of ALL their interactions and became deeply invested.

I don’t necessarily ship them cause of the parallels, age gap, enemies to lover trope, height difference, or some of those common reasons and/or kinks. I’m more basic and boring than that. I love the concept of them coming together as though it’s inevitable.

They both are unbelievably strong, selfless, and have suffered so much loss— so, no one else could truly understand them as well as they can understand each other. They both probably would have always settled for a stable, simple life, and been alone and lonely even without realizing it— instead, they find each other, and realize what it means to actually no longer be alone, to do more than just survive. It’s this understated bond, as opposed to a dramatic and passionate romance, that I envision in them and that I love so much.

Then, the passion, heat, the romantic "spark"— I think that’s an added bonus, the cherry on top, the perfect final puzzle piece. They’re both so physically capable, can speak through their actions, and don’t show much need or capacity for emotional/ verbal communication, so the ability to connect with each other through physical intimacy and mind-blowing sex seems like another given.

Still, at the end of the day, for me it comes back to their ability to fully depend on each other, to the inevitability. Not like some soulmate trope where they 'have no choice' in it, but like the stars aligned to prove it's right. How each of them have only one other person on the whole planet who could see and understand them, to be on par with them, to make them realize there’s more to life than settling and surviving, and they happen to find it in each other.

You asked, I rambled 😅 Here’s a breakdown of my thought process in my rivamika journey. For those who make it to the end or want to skip to the end, I'll finish with the excerpt of the very first rivamika scene I felt compelled to to write.

I've tried before to re-watch and remember the exact scenes, exact moments, that initially captured my full attention, but I guess it was all of them, the gradual and cumulative compilation of their earliest interactions.

Mikasa always appearing cool and indifferent, and paying no attention whatsoever to others fawning over, like Jean initially falling for her, but then her strongly reacting over Levi in the courtroom showed how uniquely capable he was at getting under her skin.

Of course, the scene in the forest chasing the Female Titan was a critical one. I think of that as the first time both Levi and Mikasa were truly able to see the other's strength, mental and physical. And for them, orphans and trauma survivors who have suffered extensive loss, I think that seeing strength in another person made them feel less alone. Less alone in a deep, quiet but cataclysm, life-altering sort of way, even if not a romantic one. Like they didn't know it was something they didn't have, something they didn't expect to get from life, but then found it with each other.

(Even when we found out Levi was an Ackerman, I was disappointed if it meant they were immediate relatives, but willing to accept it wouldn't be a romantic end to loneliness, it would be a familial end to loneliness. But... the author never explored that. Not once.)

In that forest scene, manga and anime, the way that Levi pauses to really look and see Mikasa and think about who she is, what she’s gone through, and how strong and dedicated she is now— that was a defining moment. It was also a visual demonstration of Levi breaking character, from aloof and ruthless, to considering and curious. I thought Yams was showing both of them do that on purpose.

Then, Levi getting hurt because of Mikasa in that scene felt like another clue. Sure, it was while saving Eren, and sure, it could have been meant to humanize super-soldier Levi, or sure, it could have been another aspect of how Mikasa rushing into things over Eren ends up hurting other people that later changes in her character development, but it felt like a very pointed statement about Mikasa being a vulnerability for Levi. And that's swoon-worthy, right? Most of us have been exposed to and conditioned by stories about how special and romantic it is to be the one and only girl who can make an otherwise disinterested or unattainable guy actually pay attention to her, and so admittedly I fall right for it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty, but the opening of season 3 felt like confirmation. When Levi figures out Kenny's behind things and entrusts Mikasa with instructions to share with the others, instructions about fighting people instead of titans that ultimately everyone else besides her struggles with, and when Mikasa lets Levi hold her back from chasing after Eren, her most important way of trusting and having faith in Levi, I honestly took that as cues from the author that rivamika was endgame. I let myself get truly invested from then on. That’s that understated bond I was referring to. To me, that unspoken but undeniable trust is the most important dynamic.

Seeing them fight together or fight similarly has always been fun and powerful and fulfilling.

I'm newer to the snk club. I was originally an anime-only fan and started watching in fall 2019, I think. I wasn't on tumblr, twitter, or anything else to see fandom discourse. So, I didn't know that the rooftop scene of Mikasa fighting Levi over the serum was such a staple for our ship until much later. I love the scene just like many do for all the reasons we do, but I don't think the actual scene was pivotal for me, so much as it's aftermath. I thought it represented two things.

One, it was an important marker in Levi's characterization. Hands-down one of the most striking scenes to me is the one where Levi is in the alley, somber and alone, listening in on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa talking together. It artfully shows his longing for hope and connection. So, when Levi chose Armin for the serum, that represented Levi choosing hope. And when Mikasa ultimately gave up fighting Levi and didn't choose Armin, which Armin finds out about later on, I see that as an important marker in Mikasa's development. It puts a wedge between her and Armin/Eren [Armin, because he knows she would have let him die, and Eren, because Armin is too special to him and he couldn't look at her the same way after realizing she would have let him die]. That distance between her and her childhood friends is one I don't think could ever be healed completely, one of those painful lessons in growing up. By doing that, it then also puts a distance in Mikasa's own childhood self to her current self. I thought that matured her and separated her out in a way that was another clue toward eventual rivamika developments.

That's a whole other conversation on Mikasa, but I’ll stay on track. Her love for Armin was absolutely authentic and fierce, but at the end of the day, at the core of her being, she chose survival over hope. Meanwhile, Levi chose hope over survival. To me, that was soft, fertile ground for the reasons why eventually, if/when Mikasa found hope and chose hope, that could directly tie together with her inevitably in coming together with Levi. Again, less butterflies and fireworks, but more natural and in a way that was just a given.

I wrote Beyond the Walls before reading the manga from the Marley Arc and on, so that's why most of that story is her journey into embracing that hope. *manga spoilers* There's a lot of meta, criticism and talk about Mikasa's silent, off-screen and subtle style of character development in the Marley Arc and afterward. I won't go down that road, I'm still processing the end of the manga to be honest, but I think it's fair to say she does eventually end up choosing hope over survival when she lets go of Eren and saves humanity instead. I love the “Stay with Me” line and think it’s perfect; a simple but profound display of trust and their deep-rooted bond in a really understated way. *end manga spoilers*

Here's something I always wanted to talk about in full but haven't. It honestly reads to me like Yams was building toward rivamika, and didn’t do anything to stop that until too late. There are tools authors can use to ensure we stop shipping a pair or start shipping a new one; love triangles are commonly used in every artistic medium and we’ve all been persuaded by these tools. But Yams didn’t use these tools to make sure readers didn’t feel convinced by rivamika. For all the reasons I listed above, more I'm forgetting, and for the following:

If he wanted us to think they were family and it would be incest, he should have added in a conversation between them realizing they were (close) family and that they weren't the only ones left in their biological family like they thought. But he didn't.

If he wanted us to think it was completely inappropriate between a child-and-adult and student-and-teacher, then he could have done something to ensure Mikasa looked childish or Levi looked older, but no. They barely look ten years apart. I do think it's unacceptable and that there's a power imbalance between a child-and-adult relationship regardless of that, and that there can't be true consent when one is a superior and another a subordinate, so I personally age-up Mikasa in my head and try to handle his position of power responsibly in my writings... but the point being, by the end of canon, there's no inappropriate or non-consensual romance between them, yet there's a lot of history and chemistry that could naturally lead to an age-appropriate and consensual relationship. If Yams didn't want us to think so, he could have made it more clear that there were reasons it wouldn't happen.

The only thing that makes sense to me is the author planned on rivamika endgame but was shamed/pressured out of it (either internally or due to others) OR that the author somehow accidentally created such vibrant chemistry and an incredible dynamic between them. Like, he didn't put enough convincing substance of eremika in, didn't make Levi look old enough, didn’t have one of them do something unforgivable in the other’s eyes, etc. Those are some of those tools he could have used. Romance was never a key component in snk. And since we now know Yams planned or needed eremika endgame for sake of plot and the conclusion of the manga, I personally think he didn't know what to do with the riveting rivamika substance and chemistry being much more convincing to readers. Once he had them so well built-up, maybe the only option he felt he had was to just stop putting the characters together. We get little-to-no rivamika interaction, platonic or practical, after season 3 all the way up until the very end. But there was so much of it beforehand ?? So, it simply doesn't make sense. I think the author just straight-up cut any and all interactions out between them because it was too convincing and moving, more convincing and substantial than eremika. But, as the end of canon shows, we needed to have some eremika buy-in. It's messy writing and unskilled in the romance department, but considering for how long and how complicated snk has been in a creative process and how lackluster the eremika romance (the main and apparently pivotal romance) is developed, I think it’s plausible to say the author effed up.

As far as writing fanfiction goes, there's just so much room to explore them. In canon, we aren't given enough insight into their individual perspectives, let alone their dynamic together, so it feels like a blank canvas to work from. I think that's part of why I love to write them, and also why I don't necessarily read much of them. When I first started shipping them while watching the anime, I read a few of the classics that were canon-verse, but I haven’t really read much since. For me, exploring and discovering them as a writer is the most fun. (It's one of the reasons Naruto and Harry Potter have such large fanfiction collections. There's so much world-building and so many characters, but there's also so much left to the imagination.)

In general, I'm drawn to strong characters, especially women, who are multidimensional enough to be real, vulnerable and soft. Mikasa is the pinnacle of that. I don’t necessarily like to write about her love or infatuation with Eren, but I do respect and admire and consider it integral to her character and her amazing capacity to love. We can have strong, kickass women who falter when it comes to love but are still considered strong for it. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and Mikasa is a beautiful example of that.

And Levi is strong, but real and vulnerable too; he’s honestly a fantastically developed character, from Petra explaining to Eren in the beginning how he’s not the amazing hero he’s painted to be to the public, to how Levi genuinely cares for Erwin and others and chooses hope despite all he’s suffered.

The end of the manga wrecked me a bit. Kind of like Games of Thrones. You have something that was so epic and well-done for so long, a rushed ending that isn't immediately sensical and isn't fulfilling is hard to stomach. Eventually, I'll move on from the denial of that and process what I think and feel about it. The whole reason we have fanfiction is to expand on canon, but it's made me put rivamika on the back burner until I figure it out. So I'm a little less hyper-fixated on the pairing right now even though interacting with you all and asks like this remind me what brought me here in the first place. 😊

To conclude, I’ll share that the very first rivamika content I wrote was a compilation of moments I thought could be inserted into season 3. These are still moments I plan to edit and publish one day. For anyone that actually read this far, I’ll put a rough and unedited excerpt of the first scene I ever wrote about them.

Thank you again anon 🖤😊

BEGIN EXCERPT [after the rooftop fight for the serum, immediately following the ceremony where Eren touched Historia by kissing her hand]:

Part of her was embarrassed at such a flagrant act of disobedience to a superior, especially to one who saved her and countless others' lives in the past. But mostly, she was anguished by the situation Captain Levi put her in once he revoked the serum meant to save Armin and planned to use it on Commander Erwin instead. Her current ostracization and self-loathing was not entirely her own fault. Anger she felt toward herself was just as easy to wield against him.

It must have shown in the grit of her teeth or defiant tone, because he turned to look at her, more aloof than curious.

Like a flint struck to steel, it ignited the fury she felt toward him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just killed you,” she answered him at last, piercing him with eyes darker than the night.

He wasn’t concerned. “You’re good, but not that good.”

Her hands fell to her side, fists clenched as she stood with a single, fluid movement. Before she could let loose a threat, he sighed.

“What’s the problem, Ackerman?” He was dismissive, his shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

The fire too furious to contain, she went sailing for him with the same speed from the battlefield. Her fingers already curled, she tightened her grasp as she swung her fist into his gods-damned apathetic face.

Levi wasn’t unprepared. He easily side-stepped her, then snatched her wrist to steal her momentum. Though he tried to toss her aside, she was no less fast; Mikasa dug her heel in and spun, her other arm shoving hard into his chest.

Too graceful to stumble, Levi used the chance to hook her second arm too. He caged both her wrists in a grip so strong, she was sure it bruised her bones. Still, he only looked at her warily, almost bored.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I chose Armin.” If his reminder was meant to ease her anger, it had the opposite effect.

Fury and desperation gifted her additional strength. She shoved into his chest hard. Levi shifted backward, nearly forced into loosening his grip; within that split second of an opening, Mikasa slammed her elbow into his chin, rocking his head backward.

“You did,” she seethed, but as fast as the fire inside her exploded, it was doused. Her next words came out broken and damp. “But I didn’t.”

Levi remained stern and otherwise unmoving as he attempted to flex his jaw through the spasm of pain. As the momentum of the fight died down, he loosened his hold on her wrists and evaluated her distraught frame.

Mikasa immediately released her own hands and turned away from him, eyes stinging from tears she refused to shed as she focused on the stars ahead. Admitting the harsh words aloud hurt her far more than any injury she could inflict onto him.

Not only was Armin one of the only friends she had, but he’d been a steadfast one throughout almost all she could remember of her life. After the trauma of her childhood, it was Eren and Armin who embraced her, whom she learned to love. Now, though, there was a wedge between her and Armin she was not sure could ever be removed. What was worse, as deplorable and selfish as she knew it proved her to be, was the painful wedge it now put between her and Eren too.

Once again, she found Levi standing at the peripheral of her sight, close enough to see but far enough to be a blur at the edge of her watery vision.

“You almost killed me.” Levi repeated his earlier words, but he said them with an odd bite, torn between frustration and patience. “You would have killed me to save him.”

Too late, Mikasa realized he hadn’t meant these words as an accusation, but an odd form of validation. She bit her bottom lip, teeth puncturing too hard; the tang of metal was sharp on her tongue when she swallowed blood.

“You thought about letting your closest friend die,” Levi said quietly, tiredly. “But I did let mine die. I left him for dead, when I could have saved him.”

Mikasa was startled from her selfish reverie, for the first time acknowledging the sacrifice he made on that fateful afternoon. She’d been too absorbed in her own relief, and then, her own regrets to consider what the decision had done to him.

For a brief moment, she considered turning to face him, but the stark reality of the matter made her refrain. How could she feel pity for his loss, when his loss enabled her gain? An uncomfortable knot tightened in her stomach.

“Tch,” Levi sighed. He was only one notch less taciturn, but for him, that was soft. “You’ll live with your guilt, and I’ll live with mine.”

His words granted Mikasa’s tears the permission to spill. She buried her face further into her scarf, both hands trembling at the worn threads. As quietly as he arrived onto the roof, Levi disappeared from it.

.

.

It was rare for him to indulge in alcohol or celebrations, but Erwin’s absence felt more tangible than his presence ever did. Levi distracted himself with the chaos of the few remaining Scouts that Erwin had died entrusting his legacy to, and attempted to drown the pain with whatever drink Connie Springer shoved into his hands.

He found Hanji with their ale long-forgotten about on the table as they half-stood from their seat, frantic while explaining some morbid experiment in great, vivid detail to an unsuspecting and slightly horrified MP officer.

Though Levi wordlessly took the seat beside them, Hanji paused their rant to slap him hard on the back, an enthusiastic greeting flying from their drunken lips. The MP took this chance to excuse himself, a pathetic attempt at politeness, but Hanji either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“Ah, Levi,” they smiled at his drink, though it didn’t entirely reach their one eye. “Where you been?”

Levi didn’t answer. “You know, shitty-glasses, you’re even more unbearable about your experiments when you’re drunk.”

Hanji waved dismissively and reached for their ale. Years spent in battle and command together had gifted both of them with an eased familiarity, and sometimes, genuine friendship. In the same manner he ignored their question, Hanji ignored his lack of response and went on with their original inquiry.

“Careful, Captain,” Hanji warned lightly. “Now that there’s far fewer Scouts, you having a favorite might cause some division.”

Even though Hanji meant the words, there was a glint of mischief that twinkled in their remaining eye.

“It’s not favoritism,” Levi countered bluntly, turning his vision toward the young man on the far side of the room. “Eren is simply the best chance that we have in this war.”

Hanji laughed as if he’d made a joke and Levi looked back to stare at them, unable to be surprised at their quirks or oddities any longer, but still a touch curious about what spurned this current demonstration.

“I wasn’t talking about Eren,” Hanji said at last, a pointed nod toward his injured chin.

Levi blinked. He didn’t realize he was nursing his injury with the hand not on his drink. As though it were too hot to touch, Levi dropped his hand.

Hanji was not judgmental, nor inquisitive. In a war-torn life of losing too many cadets entrusted to him, the fact that Levi found a soldier with the strength and skill to remain safe was not only rare, but worth special attention. Still, it made him too lenient.

“Sometimes I think you’d let her get away with murder,” Hanji chided halfheartedly.

When he thought of Erwin dead in his grasp, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he already had.

[whump-town]

The Lies We Tell

Aaron Hotchner has been lied to his entire life. That’s the thing about good intentions...

Warnings:  abuse

The day that Haley’s family moved into the neighborhood is seared into Hotch’s memory.

He was pulled out of bed by his father. The older man slurring his words, heavily affected by whatever cheap liquor he’d been drowning himself in the entire afternoon prior. He had no chance to understand what was being said. He’d gone, regardless, in the direction of his father’s pulling to alleviate the pressure on his shoulder joint. Knowing too much of the pinned, awkward angle would spell misfortune for him.  

Sure enough, his shoulder comes free with a pop and a chocked grunt of pain-- he knows better than to cry out. He suffers through the drunken rant his father’s worked himself into, careful to keep his wounded arm tight to his chest. In the privacy he’s afforded, only after his father’s taken a few blows and has resigned himself to sleeping off his slump, he can reset his shoulder. Should he do it by himself? No. There, simply, isn’t any other option.

With word of the family moving in down the street, the Brooke’s, his father sobers up to put up his best front: loving father who day-lights as a lawyer and spends his nights beating the shit out of his family. That doesn’t mean that Aaron doesn’t manage to “step out of line” just as they’re leaving-- how dare he existed in his home. 

With his ears still ringing from the blow to his head, vision swimming, Aaron Hotchner stands between his mother and father on Brooke’s lawn. His father beams down at him, pride and joy in every area of his face except in his eyes. The only place it matters is the only place it isn’t. The family across from them doesn’t take note of how empty his father’s eyes are or how hard his grip is on Aaron’s bony shoulder. All they see is a family that mirrors their own:

A father, a mother, and two children. 

The Brookes are a good family. It takes years for Aaron to grow out of his contempt for them. By then, his father is dying and the beatings are getting worse. 

“Aaron--” 

He falls hard for Haley Brookes and for some reason she gives the world’s worse pirate #3 a chance. She starts to wonder how a guy like Aaron falls through the cracks. He does plenty of clubs and he’s as sweet as can be. His personality is a little underdeveloped, as are his social skills, and he doesn’t always understand current social things, but he’s funny, and he’s handsome.

And he’s got an awful home life. 

“Oh God,” she reaches for him and quickly realizes that was a mistake. “Sorry,” she whispers, taking a step back. She hadn’t expected the broken sob to leave his mouth when she reached for him. Sure, she’d noticed that sometimes if she reaches for his hand too fast he flinches away. She just hadn’t connected his bruises for… for this.

He’s shaking in their doorway, soaking wet from the rain pouring down outside. It’s too cold to let him stand out there for too long. 

She wracks her brain for what to do and with shaky inhale she forces herself to calm down. Aaron’s always fed off of the energy others give, it’s one of the first things you notice the longer you’re around him. His empathy is high. “Aaron,” she calls softly, extending her hand out of the doorway to him. He still has to step to reach her but that leaves their proximity in his control. 

It takes him a moment but he steps closer and allows his fingers to brush against hers. 

He knows Haley is safe. Haley will help him. He’s struggling. The line between pain and comfort is distorted. He’s scared and it immobilizes him. Rationally he knows-- he knows Haley will help him but he’s afraid his father will see. What if he hurts her too?

“Son?”

Mr. Brookes. He’ll protect them from his father.

“Son, what the hell--” 

Haley steps between them, seeing the way Aaron’s eyes light up at the sight of her father. He’s not in his rational mind. This isn’t his fault. “Daddy,” she warns softly. Mercifully, they pass between them an understanding. Her father hates the Hotchners and he distrusts Aaron and his motivations. But he understands this. He understands where the bruise swelling on Aaron’s right cheekbone came from.

“Let me help,” Haley whispers to Aaron. “Come on, you’ll be okay.” She offers her hand back out and watches as Aaron’s eyes pass between her and her father. There’s another moment, more hesitation but he finally breaks the gap. He trusts her. He’s always trusted her.

Once he steps forward, this time, he doesn’t stop until he’s got both arms wrapped around Haley. He sobs into her collar and she holds him. Pulls him close until he’s practically folded into himself to be at her height. To allow himself to sink into her arms and just be held. 

Haley’s mother brings in a bag of peas, cliche but the only thing they have to reduce the swelling in his face. Mr. Brookes stays in the kitchen, watching from the doorway as his wife and daughter aid Aaron. As uneasy as the situation feels him, there’s a stir of pride in the pit of his stomach at the side of Haley being so tender.

“Shh,” Haley runs her hand through Aaron’s wet hair. He flinches from the touch of the cold press to his cheek, pushing himself closer to Haley. She expects the movement and wordlessly takes the bag from her mother. “It’s alright,” she soothes and this time he sees the bag coming. He doesn’t fight it. 

“I’m right here.” She promises, “always. I’ll always be right here.”

He places his hand over her own. It takes him a moment to realize where he is-- laying in the Brookes’s living room with his head in Haley’s lap. Blinking tears out of his eyes he asks, “do you promise?”

Haley nods and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I promise, Aaron. I’m right here.”

That was the first lie she ever told him. 

___________

He makes it through training. Paperwork comes and goes. He can wrap his head around the cases that hurt the most but... he still stumbles. He’s not figured out how to hide these things from people trained to detect exactly what he’s doing. Jason and Dave are unforgiving. They push and push at his broken pieces.  There’s a moment, suspended, where he can recognize that he has exactly two options: fall apart or tell. 

And the time to make that decision is quickly leaving. 

The silence is building and while he understands that there is nothing wrong with the silence normally, here it is baited. Each moment he allows Dave’s question to go unanswered is another ticking time bomb that allows Dave to come to his own conclusion, however right they may be. 

Hotch doesn’t typically appreciate people getting into his head. He doesn’t appreciate anyone getting into his head. There’s a strange give and take with Dave, though. He’s come to understand a certain level of giving-- personal information as little as a review of his day or, from what Dave wants, an in-depth analysis of his childhood. These things equate to trust and… and, well, love. 

“Well?”

But he can’t say the words. They’re stuck in the back of his throat-- worse than choking. Exactly like choking. He doesn’t want the words there. He wants them aired out. He wants to tell Dave that his father hit him so badly once that he was hospitalized for three days in the ICU. That the hitting wasn’t enough. As he got too weak to hit, the verbal abuse was just effective. 

But there’s no Heimlich maneuver for emotions.

Just growth. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hotch doesn’t dare look up from the paperwork in his lap. 

The question had been if he was willing to tell Dave what it was that had bothered him so much about the family of their almost victim. Almost, being subjective. The boy had still been through the trauma of being kidnapped, it was just some cruel mercy he wasn’t killed. 

And for what? Hotch knew exactly what they were sending that boy back home to.

It’s the same thing he used to go home to.

Dave hums, it’s a specific sound he makes in the back of his throat and Hotch knows exactly what it means. He looks up and Dave just raises an eyebrow and shrugs it away. “I was just wondering,” he mumbles. “I also thought you should know that Jason called child protective services and I have a friend working on getting those kids out of that house.”

So he had seen the bruises.

“Oh,” escapes his mouth before he can bite it down. He nods his head and looks away, afraid of what he might see if looks at Dave for too long. “The father was unhinged,” he profiles. “Those kids won’t survive much longer with him.”

Dave nods, he’d come to the same conclusion. “Can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised by a man like that,” Dave says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “No one deserves that.”

Hotch refrains from nodding or even acknowledging that statement because he knows it’s meant for him. At him. Saying anything is admitting that Dave’s right. 

Clearing his throat, Dave settles his attention back on the road. They’ve got a long drive ahead of them. Plenty of opportunities to have this discussion another time. Aaron’s just starting to hope that’s exactly what’s going to happen when Dave glances over at him.

"When was the last time you slept, " Dave plays his worried glance off by looking in the rear view mirror. Checking behind them. But he doesn't need to be looking at Hotch to know if he's lying or not. The kid looks like shit. He hasn't slept properly in days.

Hotch looks out the window, leaning his temple against the cool glass. "Don't know, " he mumbles. 

Rossi hums. 

"Why?"

Rossi glances at him, for a long hard minute it's a battle of wills. With a raised eyebrow, Dave shrugs. "Just checking in on you, am I not allowed to do that?"

Hotch doesn't reply. He doesn't even look up.

“Kid?”

Dammit. He wants to keep to himself. He wants to just crawl into a hole and act like nothing’s wrong. His childhood was great. His father was a hero. His mother… but he can’t even breathe. Each inhale gets caught in his throat and he can feel panic setting it. He needs to get out of this car. “P-Pull over,” he gasps, fingers going to his noose-- tie. “Pull over!” 

He throws his door open, rushing out and toppling over onto his knees, gagging into the tall grass. A small voice in his head warns of the dangers of a snake, he did grow up in the south, but the way his stomach keeps cramping pushes that thought away. There are more dangerous things than a snake-- he used to live with one.

“Easy,” Dave mumbles from behind him and Hotch realizes he’s now leaning into Dave. Allowing the older man to hold him. “Easy, kid, just breathe.” Through each shuddering breath he pulls in, Hotch can feel Dave rubbing his hand up and down his back. His head is pounding, his ears pulsing. “Tell me next time you’re feeling sick, okay?”

Hotch leans back over, gagging miserably but unable to bring up anything with nothing left in his stomach. 

“Look at me,” Dave asks, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his face off with. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. You can trust me. I’ll always be right here.”

Two months later he retires. Hotch doesn’t even get two weeks’ notice.

___________

He keeps counting. Jason Gideon keeps counting and each time he comes up one short. The radio in his ear buzzes, body counts over and over listed for the personnel looking through the carnage. There are plenty of missing officers, a single swat agent, and-and Jason’s one missing agent. Possible missing agent.

Six agents in… If six agents went in then there should still be-- Aaron. 

Swaying where he stands,  Aaron’s looking at the ruined building before him. His dark brown hair is pushed in disarray atop his head. No amount of gel keeping his crazy hair down. Jason’s always found it an endearing, if not silly, thing for someone so serious to have. But right now he can’t appreciate the cowlicks.

“Aaron,” Jason calls, knowing how the younger man startles when he’s not expecting being touched. “Can you hear me?” The closer he gets the more blood he sees. It might not be Aaron’s. That’s a very real possibility but Jason doubts that the crimson stain on his chest is entirely someone else’s. 

Neither of their luck is that good. 

And Jason knows he’s broken his promise to Dave.

“Watch out for the kid, huh? He…--”

“Get himself into trouble? Yeah, I know. I’ll watch his back.”

Who was watching his back today? Not Jason. He let six agents die. He was stupid. It was a stupid mistake and now everyone else is paying for it.

“Gideon?” Aaron turns to him, confusion pulling his thick brows down. “I can’t--” he looks around them, to the smoke and the building. “I can’t find Morgan. He… I just--” He winces in pain, his left hand touching his abdomen and he pulls it away bloody. He looks up to Gideon, tears in his eyes, “I can’t find Morgan.”

Jason nods his understanding, keeping his slow approach. “That’s okay,” he reassures him. “Don’t you remember? I sent Morgan back to Quantico.” He’s close enough now to touch Aaron and he offers a squeeze to his shoulder. “He’s okay. He’s safe.”

Aaron sucks in a breath, it sounds like a sob but he nods his understanding. His knees start to give beneath him, no reason to keep fighting if Morgan’s okay. 

Jason catches him around the waist just as his knees cave beneath his weight. “It’s okay,” he breathes, shushing Aaron’s incoherent mumble. “You’re okay.” He places his hand over the wound, it’s easy to identify. It’s the only warm place on Hotch’s entire body. The strangled cry that leaves his pale lips rips through Jason. 

His breathing immediately becomes more labored, his eyes slivers. “Hurts…” his face is awfully pale. His skin is clammy. 

“Shh,” Jason looks motions for the medics running towards them to run faster. “I know, I know.” He tries to step back and give the medics room but the moment he moves Aaron grabs his hand. “Alright,” he settles back down, making sure to be out of the way but holding Aaron’s hand back. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

The minute he passes out, Jason pulls away. He just can’t do it. He needs to get away.

Hotch spends weeks in the hospital.

Morgan’s there… but that’s because no one else can be. Their unit is dead. They have to start from the beginning. It’s just Derek, Hotch, and Gideon. And Gideon’s off… God knows where. 

The day Hotch is released from the hospital, Jason visits. He stands in the doorway of the room, smiling as Hotch and Derek argue while Haley stands to the side, obviously displeased. He’s always enjoyed Morgan and Hotch’s brotherly friendship. No one was faster at putting the other in their place like the other but let either hear someone else bad mouth them and they’d go down swinging. 

Derek wins the argument and Hotch lets him help him into the wheelchair. When Derek looks up, pushing the feet of the wheelchair so that Hotch can rest his feet on them, he follows Hotch’s eyes to the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he spits.

It’s unkind but Jason’s expecting it just as much as Hotch’s soft reprimand in the form of a Morgan’s name grunted. 

Morgan looks back at Hotch, about to start another argument but they share a glance and before either says anything Haley steps up. “Come on,” she motions for Morgan to follow her. “Just give them a minute.”

Morgan gives Jason the look. It means many things but today it’s a warning. If Jason hurts Hotch, Morgan’s going to do worse to him. Boss or not. 

“How are you?” Jason asks, settling himself on the edge of Hotch’s vacated bed.

Hotch looks down at his hands, nervously picking at his nails. He shakes his head, “I’ll be back at the office in two weeks but they’re not letting me back into the field until at least the end of the month.” He looks up at Jason, “ and I have to pass all the field requirements.”

Jason nods, “that’s good.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “But that’s not what I asked.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, not exactly playing stupid but not playing along either. “Mmm,” he looks back down at his hands, brows furrowed now. “Haley’s pregnant, she--” he looks up at the doorway as if expecting her there. “She wants me to transfer. Go someplace safer.”

Jason takes this in for a moment, looking to the ground. He shrugs, “it’s understandable. You’re going to be a father, Aaron. Of course, she wants you alive.” He looks down at the floor, in shame or contempt, or just vulnerability. “You’ll be safer anyhow, now,” he adds. “If you decide to stay you’re going to be taking the Unit Cheif position.”

Hotch’s head snaps up, “they-” He looks away from Jason, processing the information. After a moment, he looks back up. “They took your job?”

Jason shakes his head, “no.” He nods his head towards Hotch, “they gave my position to a worthy candidate, whose name I put in the ring myself.” He smiles proudly, “and I am going to watch him build a new team as his senior agent.”

Hotch looks up at Jason and shakes his head but he looks away, unsure of what he’s supposed to say. He knows he can do the job. That’s always what he wanted-- hell, it’s what Dave and Jason both wanted. He just wasn’t expecting it so soon. He’s not sure he’s ready for it so soon.

“You’ll be great,” Jason reassures him. He gets off the bed and crouches down beside the wheelchair. Leaving the two men eye-level. “There’s no one that could do this job better.”

Hotch feels pretty adamant about this. 

“Look at me,” Jason requests. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re a natural leader.”

Hotch nods.

“You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Two years later, as Hotch stands before Strauss knowing that the last year has been an unraveling-- a never-ending list of things that have gone wrong and reasons to fire him-- he wishes Jason were here. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone. And yet he does. 

___________

The world was on fire. Flames licking at the side of his arm and the way his legs refused to properly hold his weight. His knees hitting the gravel and the sting of skin tearing. But he’d sat in something wet. Crimson. 

Morgan was there. He was kneeling beside Hotch, his hand on his shoulder. 

“Agent Hotchner?” He flinches away from the penlight in his eyes. Someone says something and a palm settles across his forehead, this time he can’t move away as the light comes back. “Can you hear me, Agent Hotchner?” 

Morgan stands up from his chair. He pushes himself between the doctor and Hotch. “You’re hurting him,” he accuses hotly. The doctor can’t refute that statement, Hotch is still groaning from the pain spiking through his head. He’s raised his hands to ward off another attack from the light, writhing as he moves his sore body to get away from where he knows it came from.

The doctor sighs. Of course, he understands the proximity of agents. This isn’t his first time dealing with government agents. Things are just becoming tricky. Agent Hotchner’s condition is critical and Agent Morgan understands that a little too well. He just doesn’t understand that his friend’s not going to catch his death with a doctor flashing a penlight into his eyes but he might if his concussion worsens or turns into a brain bleed. 

“Agent,” the doctor says, growing impatient as Agent Hotchner grows more restless. “I understand your concern but your friend needs my help.” He knows he’s won the moment Morgan turns to look at Hotch. “Let me get him something for the pain and we can discuss this some more, okay?”

Morgan looks over to Hotch. 

He’s crying, most likely not even aware of the tears streaming down his face. His hands are pressed over his ears and he’s turned over so that his back is to them. He’s managed to draw his knees to his chest. He’s entirely defensive, his pain is that bad.

“Okay,” the doctor repeats and this time Morgan nods. “Okay.” He steps right up to Hotch’s bedside, gently shaking the agent’s arm. “Agent Hotchner, can you hear me?” He doesn’t shine the penlight in his eyes, he just tries to get some sort of answer out of the other man. 

Hotch manages a grumbled response, it’s too soft for Morgan to catch but the nurse facing Hotch looks up and repeats it. “He’s saying he’s okay.”

“He--” Morgan steps forward about to make sure they understand that’s very much not true but the doctor raises his hand and Morgan stops in his tracks.

“I know, “ the doctor confirms. He leans back over Hotch, “Agent, I’m going to have our very helpful nurse Sarah give you some pain meds, okay?” He pulls at the back of the gown Hotch’s bloodied clothes had been replaced by. He frowns at the road burn he finds but doesn’t comment. “You’ll be feeling a lot better in just a moment.”

The doctor steps to the side and motions for Morgan to follow.

Hotch cracks an eye open, fighting the currents of pain trying to drag him down to watch as the nurse pushing something painfully hot into his arm. It’s clear and his slurred speech doesn’t stop her. She pulls the syringe free and he just watches, that intense warmth working its way up his arm and into his chest. It hurts and it itches but his eyelids start to drop. Impossibly heavy.

Derek appears out of… well, nowhere. Hotch’s eyes move to the left, following the direction from which he appeared but he’s too tired to move his head and really figure out what’s happening. 

“Hey man,” Morgan greets. 

There’s something about the face that Morgan makes as he sits down in the visitor’s chair that sparks a sudden memory. “Kate,” Hotch rasps.

The doctor had just told Morgan that any stress is going to be too much. That Hotch’s heart and body just can’t take it. 

Morgan looks up as the nurse tries to step between them, allowing her through. She places a mask over Hotch’s face, replacing the canal he’d worn just a moment ago. Worse, Morgan recalls, the doctor said he was getting worse. So when he sits down he puts on his best show. 

“Joyner,” Morgan says. “You mean Kate Joyner.”

Hotch manages a small nod.

Morgan has to think carefully about his lie. He’ll have to recall these details later, to make sure the others understand his white lie. More importantly, Hotch has to believe him without a shred of doubt. “She’s downstairs,” Morgan says, which true. He’s just hoping Hotch assumes the E.R. and not the morgue. “You don’t need to worry about her, though,” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “she’s… she’s okay?”

Morgan pulls in a steady breath, “she’s okay.” He smiles and offers Hotch a reassuring nod. “Get some sleep, man, you could use it.” He reaches over and squeezes Hotch’s hand, making sure he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Hotch can’t fight the drugs any longer. “The others,” he whispers. Morgan can’t hear him. “The others, are they okay?” 

His breathing has become steadily worse and Morgan knows that if he doesn’t shut Hotch up soon they’re going to kick him out. Which may seem like a good thing but they don’t know Hotch. He’ll kill himself trying to get out of bed to make sure no one else is hurt. 

“Everyone’s okay.” 

And Hotch doesn’t need to know any more than that. They’ll catch the terrorist and he can worry about not dying on them. Because Morgan’s not sure he can handle anything but Hotch walking away from this. 

He… He will walk away from this, right?

“Rest,” Morgan whispers. “We’ll handle everything.”

A month later, with ears as healed as they’re going to get and Morgan by his side, Hotch visits Kate Joyner’s grave.

“I’m sorry I…” Morgan can’t look at the gravestone or Hotch so he averts his eyes to the grass.

It takes a moment but Hotch’s voice cuts through the cold air with the thickness of his surfacing guilt. “It doesn’t matter.” 

It did.

___________

Eventually, Dave leaves and Hotch is left with nothing but his previously raised question: what will his son remember about his in ten years? And no answer. 

He falls asleep. It’s not a conscious choice but one his body makes for him. He’s been awake for the upwards of five hours, pushing past the mental fog a little too far. That had always been a problem for him. He could push his body, and he certainly would, but eventually, his brain would catch up. And, just as it had today, would override his determination to keep pushing.

He wakes to the sight of Emily Prentiss. She’s curled up in the visitor’s chair that she’d occupied earlier. Despite the days unraveling, she seems as relaxed as possible. But, then, she’s always held the danger of still water. 

“You should have gone home with the others.” His voice seems caught around his sternum, lower and more agitated in tone than normal. Grumpy. He can’t help it. He’s not sure he could even smile right now if he had to. Not that there’s any reason to. 

He’s completely alone.

She doesn’t pay his tone or attitude much mind but when has she? Given the last two years, he knows she’s grown some traction with the team and… well, they’ve grown closer as well. He knows this with an unfailing certainty when she simply shrugs away his comment. 

Sometimes, they can really test him.

As she does frequently. 

“I did go home,” she clarifies, flipping the page in her book without looking up at him. “And before you ask, I even got a good eight hours of sleep.” 

He rolls his eyes, definitely something he wouldn’t do if not for the hefty amount of strong pain killers being dumped into his bloodstream. He knows he’s been beat, as he often is when it comes to Emily Prentiss, because he can’t disprove she’s slept or went home. 

She reaches up and pulls--what he assumes is coffee-based off of the container-- a cup to her. She sips it and glances up at him. “Besides,” she says, putting the cup back. “I’m taking the first watch. I have to be here even if you don’t want me here.”

He understands well enough. Taking watch is not a new concept but the notion that he’d be on its receiving end is. He also knows she doesn’t mean the Bureau has assigned them to set watch, they’ve decided it amongst themselves. It almost makes the pain in his chest… numb.

He averts his eyes, looking to the ceiling. What’s he supposed to say to that anyway?

“How are you feeling,” she asks, tucking a bookmark in between the pages of her book. She sets it down in her lap, her full attention coming to him, even if he doesn’t want it. “Don’t lie,” she warns. “Your heartbeat is being measured out for me to see and you’re not that good at lying when you’re high.”

Like he’s let his heart rate give away if he was lying or not… besides, they both know lying while high thing is true. He hates that. “Fine,” he mumbles, eyes still on the ceiling.

She hums, “fine.” Sure. He gets stabbed nine times in his apartment after a case sent from hell by a serial killer they have profiled and know will continue to stalk Hotch for as long as possible. His only family has just been sent away for the next to foreseeable future and he’s fine. Just fine.

But what’s she to say. Everything’s going to be okay? She doesn’t know that. Even if they catch Foyet, that’s not going to mean Hotch can still look at himself in the mirror. It’s not going to fix the physiological torture.

She probably shouldn’t but she reaches between the two of them and gently takes his head. “Aaron,” she whispers because this isn’t the time for business casual nicknames. “We’re going to catch that son of a bitch,” her conviction feels misplaced but he can’t even bear to look at her and tell her that. “And you’re not going to lose anyone else.”

He nods, not able to trust his voice. 

He’s exhausted. Too tired to argue with her. 

“Okay.” 

She sits back in her chair and they sit in one another silent comfort. A few minutes pass and she looks up and finds him sleep peacefully. Those brows finally having relaxed and his mouth open. She’ll be right here to keep the demons away and if Foyet decides to show his miserable face? He won’t be ready for the beating she’ll lay on him.

She just has no idea how wrong her promise is. 

Now, she can squeeze his hand and promise him that he won’t lose anyone else. And he doesn’t for a few months. 

Then she finds him crouched over Foyet’s dead body and Ian Doyle claws his way from the grave. 

And he has to bury her. 

He looses her too. 

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Lightened Shadows Chapter 2

AU: Final Fantasy 4

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @otomehideout-indecentconfessions @file-missing​ @risefallrise​

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: Pretty descriptive fantasy violence this time around(boss fights will hopefully always be this well written; I’m real proud with how the scene came out so I hope you like it). 

Pairing: Ever-evolving :)

Genre:  Drama, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 6.2k+

The air was cool from the little you could feel thanks to your armor but you knew it’d heat up quickly thanks to the sun. Thankfully, it hadn’t risen too much given how early it was. 

“Shall we stop in town first?”

Yoongi stopped you as you turned in the direction towards where the cave you needed to go through waited with a gentle hand on your arm, your armor clanking at the contact.

“Hm? Didn’t you say you already got provisions just this past nightfall?”

He smirked sheepishly and shrugged.

“I may have forgotten in the midst of the men celebrating my victory in our spat. Apologies. Shall we?”

You nodded, barely holding back a sigh. 

‘As if I don’t feel bad enough. Now I have to go get supplies and probably scar a few children in the process with my intimidating appearance. Spectacular.’ 

You entered the quaint little village just diagonal to the castle gates and looked around, trying to go through the brief list of what you needed in your mind. 

‘It should be a short expedition; 2 days at most, 3 if we stop to pitch a tent after delivering the ring to get their explanation once you entered the village.’

 You were sure you wouldn’t be welcome there for long. The town of Mist was known for little else than their reclusive nature and had never been particularly fond of those that hailed from Baron, so perhaps best you purchase one just in case they wouldn’t let you stay at the inn as you feared.

Yoongi led the way to the item shop and offered you a wave as he ran off somewhere; probably to attend to some last-minute errand he’s forgotten about. 

“How can I help you today, my Lady?” 

It was a quick transaction; you luckily had plenty of gil to spare thanks to the 500 gil provisions the King’s guard had insisted you take, along with 5 Potions and a Phoenix Down should the worst come to befall one of you in battle. You bought one more Phoenix Down for good measure in addition to that Tent and exited looking around to see Yoongi’s distinctly teal armor. He’d always hated that ugly green the other Dragoons were forced to wear, so he’d had Jin help him create his own armor once he'd been promoted to Captain.

Having experience building airships was surprisingly helpful in creating armor that could withstand some damn mighty blows apparently. 

You exited the shop looking around for Yoongi carelessly as you walked through the town, trying to not draw any attention to yourself; only to look down in surprise at a sudden banging from your armor being hit repeatedly. A small boy was there, angrily pounding on your armor with tears streaming down his face. 

“You took my Daddy away!! I hate you!”

A wince graced your face behind your mask and for once you lowered it, kneeling to the boys’ height and gently restraining his hands firmly in your own. You had no choice but to take many people to the guards if they happened to be foolish enough to run into you. It had been one of the ways you’d rose in rank so quickly; catching criminals. But...it never made it any easier to see the carnage left in the wake of your actions. 

“...I’m sorry. I know there is naught I can say to soothe your pain, but all I can do is apologize. I had a duty to fulfill, and I did as was necessary.” 

The child sniffled, but the hatred once in his eyes had died down to a mere simmer. 

“You don’t seem so mean. Please miss...I just want my Daddy back. Mommy said he’s served all his time; can’t you get him for me? I promise I’ll work doubly hard to ensure we’re never poor enough to have to steal again!”

He seemed so proud, puffing his chest out, and as you released his hands he placed them on his hips in a show of how strong he could and would be. 

A glance upwards saw his Mother suddenly rushing towards you both and the woman was on the floor on her knees, hands, and head both level to the ground at your feet. 

“Please Lady Captain! Forgive my boy! He means no harm!” 

Your heart clenched as you stood and the boy seemed distressed, seemingly coming to the conclusion that you were leaving as he grabbed onto your arm. 

“Miss, please! His name is Raisoro. Even if it's not today please at least look for him when next you return to the castle!”

You noticed Yoongi waiting as the crowd parted and knew you'd have to make this quick. He'd never been good with this kind of situation. 

You nodded resolutely, meeting the boy’s eyes.

"I swear it on my role as a Dark Knight…"

You met the mother's eyes too as your gaze softened behind your visor and you helped her to her feet. 

"And as someone who also loves another. I will check and return for you once I next visit the castle. I have a mission to do before that so it may take some time but-"

"Thank you Lady Captain! You're so gracious!" 

The mother was barely holding herself together at your words and you squeezed her hand briefly before you pulled away after a ruffle of the boy's hair and made your way to Yoongi who was looking on in solemn understanding. 

"...Dare I ask?"

"The boy's father has been in prison past his sentence, caught stealing food for his family. I promised I'd check once we got back."

Yoongi glanced at you from his place beside you as a chuckle escaped him. 

You felt your cheeks heat and huffed defensively. 

"What's so funny!?"

He shrugged with a fond smile as he shook his head. 

"Still too kind for your own good is all. Could have been a lie, an attempt to steal money, or a ploy to stir up rebellion in the town against the King starting with you by using a young boy but you responded so genuinely that even if that's what it was it backfired miserably."

He snickered a bit more, a rare sound to be sure for most but you enjoyed it nonetheless even as you blushed.

"It's my job as Lady Captain. I may serve the Red Wings but the townspeople are my concern too. I guess it probably seems silly since you're of the Dragoon branch, only responsible for protecting the castle and monster patrol.” 

His laughter died but you caught the amused smirk at his lips.

“All the better for me. People can be complicated whereas fiends are useful for little more than target practice and exercises to bring my jumps to larger heights.” 

You shoved him playfully with a roll of your eyes.

“Alright hotshot; that’s enough bragging. Did you do your little errand? I want to check in with Hoseok’s Mom while we’re here. You know how worried he can get about her when he gets stuck at the castle healing overnight.”

Yoongi seemed to hesitate at that but reluctantly nodded and let you lead him to the small house towards the center of the village where Hoseok’s mom had received her own home after Hoseok had received his white cape as proof he was a Baron White Mage. You knocked on the door and after a moment it swung open to reveal Hoseok’s mother. You smiled kindly, mouth guard already lowered out of respect even as she glared at you disapprovingly. 

“What do you two want!?” 

“I just wanted to check in on you. Hoseok wanted to ensure you were eating enough and healthy.” 

She huffed irritably and leaned against the doorjamb as Yoongi shifted uncomfortably beside you, causing her gaze to briefly shift to him before going back to you. 

“I’m doing just fine; no thanks to you. His Majesty’s recent behavior troubles me. I heard you and your boy there have been doing some just terrible things, under his orders or no. All I want is Hoseok to be safe from such gory acts and that’s your job as his lover.” The glare she gave Yoongi did not go unnoticed by you and you noted the way his whole body tensed and his mouth went in a firm straight line. “And that goes for any kind of hurt. Have I made myself clear?”

You maintained your amicable smile even as it felt like you’d just been speared through the heart. Your voice was unbearably soft as you responded, cursing the way it wavered. 

“O-Of course madam. I will protect him till my very last breath if I must. I would happily absolve any pain he has experienced or will in the future if I was only able, so he wouldn’t have to shoulder an ounce of suffering.”

She nodded and raised her chin in superior pride at your answer before she nodded curtly. 

“Good. Ensure your feelings forever remain so stalwart; as do your ideals or the world may lose one Dark Knight.”

With that, the door slammed shut, and the sting of her obvious distrust bordering on rejection cut deep as you all but stumbled away with Yoongi hot on your heels as you made your way through the little alcove at the back of the village to the river where you knew no-one would be. 

You were barely maintaining the lid on your emotions but at the sight of your glassy gaze, Yoongi couldn’t withhold his ire and hissed through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists.

“Who does she think she is talking down to you like that!? Hoseok and you have been together for how many years now? 3?” 

He snarled as he whirled to grip your shoulders unintentionally being a bit rough, not that it made a difference thanks to the armor guarding your shoulders, careful to avoid the spikes. 

“She even dared to imply you of all people would be unfaithful. After everything you’ve been through with Hoseok and me, it just-” 

He inhaled sharply to try and gather himself and his eyes rushed to yours at your watery giggle. 

“Is something humorous?”

He certainly didn’t find any amusement in this.

You smiled weakly. 

“I just find this all morbidly ironic. I told Hoseok just last night how cowardly I was and it seems even his mother agrees.” 

Yoongi wrenched himself away from you with a hiss, eyes narrowing. 

“You? A coward? That is comical.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. I obeyed His Majesty’s orders without a second thought. I harmed innocent people-”

“Except they’re not innocent. You seem to be forgetting that. His Majesty explicitly said they knew too much of the Crystal and its secrets-”

“And what gives him the right to decide that!? It’s not our culture or our way of life!! We’ve been focused on technological advancement rather than the power of the crystals for decades...why now does His Majesty seem so intent on them!?”

You covered your mouth in horror at the treasonous words that escaped your lips, and Yoongi had gone eerily still as well before he quickly looked around for any potential eavesdroppers. 

Seeing none, he lowered his voice and frowned seriously at you once again placing his hand on your shoulder. You could see the weight of your words had made their mark from the grim look in his eyes. So it troubled him too. You always knew he was a good actor but his emotionlessness towards this subject, in particular, had admittedly made you feel isolated in your beliefs. Sure, you’d heard the rumors, but they hadn’t been raised by His Majesty as you had. Their opinion simply didn’t hold the same weight as Yoongi or Hoseok’s would. In any case, Yoongi’s low drawl of your name made your eyes lock onto his. 

“They were deceitful and thankfully His Royal Highness caught it in time before they began a rampage against the whole Blue Planet. Let us be grateful for that and move on. Yes?”

Hesitance shown in your eyes but you swallowed back the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue and nodded. No time to wallow in any case; you had Hoseok to get home to. 

“Enough talk. Let us depart for Mist."

Yoongi finally seemed appeased and he watched as you raised your mouthguard once again though he didn’t comment on it as you both exited the little alcove at the back of the town, only for Yoongi to bump right into a familiar girl. 

“June! How’re things?”

You easily put on a mask of ease, though at the younger girl’s giddy grin you found it wasn’t difficult. 

“Oh, it’s been just peachy! You know Jin...always working! But he came home last night so to reward him I’m baking him his favorite pumpkin pie for when he finally wakes up.”

“He still hasn’t awoken? It’s only a little past dawn but I’ve seen him working well past this just last week…” 

Yoongi mused and you saw the twist of a smirk on his lips when you shot him a knowing glare. 

June huffed at that, shaking her head in disappointment. 

“I’m gonna wring that old man's neck one of these days, mark my words! He works too hard...we’re not that hurting for gil.”

Her last phrase was little more than a mumble but your hand was already reaching for your gil pouch before you could even consciously think. As if anticipating your movements though, Yoongi took a step forward, hand already outstretched with a small pouch, filled to the brim and neatly tied off. 

At June’s wide-eyed hesitance, Yoongi cut her off as she opened her mouth, no doubt to refuse. 

“You’d best take it before a pickpocket does. I’ll remain standing like this until the gil is taken.”

His voice was a low rumble, despite his words as he clearly wanted her to have it, not some thief, and all three of you knew even should he keep his word like you knew he would, he’d merely reclaim his gil and find some other way to give it to the family, perhaps by smuggling it into Jin’s biweekly wages.

June finally took the pouch, and you felt a little misty-eyed as you watched her throw her arms around Yoongi, taking the Dragoon Captain by surprise and making him stumble and fumble to return her gesture of affection with an awkward pat on her back. 

“Y-Yes yes of course, now just release me, will you? People are staring.”

He grumbled, and you were sure without his mask he’d be red as a beet by now. 

Yoongi grew serious, however, and gently caught June’s hand as she went to run off after thanking him profusely. 

“I want you to be sure you go right on home and hide that somewhere nice and secure. Only take what you need and then return to the markets. I don’t want you being targeted for fraternizing with the likes of us. And…” He hesitated but finally handed her something else you couldn’t see as he stepped into her space as he abruptly tugged her into a proper hug. 

“Take that as well. Use it only if you must.” 

He mumbled something else by her ear and then just as quickly pulled away. June looked flustered as well, a little nervous and as Yoongi rejoined you, you side-eyed him with a hint of mirth in your gaze. You were positive he could feel it and eventually after a minute of walking towards the exit he hissed only once you’d both been alone for several minutes.

“What?”

You offered a simple hum. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m just recalling a certain Dragoon mocking me not an hour ago for being too kind. Yet here you are, giving away money I know you’d been saving up for that new lance you wanted. You even gave her a weapon by the looks of it.”

Your voice quieted for that last part as you drew closer to him to whisper and he merely sighed in resignation at that. 

“Of course you noticed. Always so knowing, aren’t you? June deserves to eat. Did you not also happen to notice the flatness of her gil pouch? You know how much they’ve been inflating prices.”

You blinked at that in surprise.

“The item shop charged me the same rate as always. I had no idea…”

Yoongi snorted at that, cool and sarcastic. 

“Of course they would. You’re the King’s guard dog, they know better than to draw your, or my ire. But the townspeople? They are not so lucky. There is a reason people like that family who pleaded with you have had to turn to stealing and they are but one of many.”

“And here I thought I was knowledgeable on the way our people were treated...how do you know all this?” 

Yoongi shrugged. 

“My men have families here; unlike the Red Wings who’re typically born into the military, the Dragoons have always been expected to be enlisters. The practice may have died some with the passage of time but it is still a thing of the present and I asked a few of them to report to me. I pay them a little extra on the side and they know I’m not a turncoat despite being close to His Majesty. You’re the first one I’ve told, actually and I know well enough you’re as good for your silence as I.”

This new information made dread sit heavy in the pit of your stomach. First a degradation of the King’s morality, and now even Baron’s shopkeepers were turning against civilians? You froze for a moment and swallowed nervously. Your King. He was your king still. The just and firm but kind man who’d raised you into the woman you had become. Deep breaths. All would be forgiven and explained when you returned. You were sure of it. Yoongi had said so and he was always right. You just had to have faith. You and Yoongi reached the gate and you looked to him as you ensured your armor was tightened and your sword scabbard ready to give you access to your sword at a moment's notice. 

He too had done his checks and nodded at you, mouth now in a stern frown as he readied himself with grim determination for the journey ahead. 

After a shared nod at one another, you both stepped out into the overworld and began making your way to the Cave of Mist. 

The monsters had been gradually growing more and more feral as the years had gone on. Now they were violently beyond reason, willing to strike at a moment’s notice; including those who didn’t pose a threat. You remembered a simpler time where more docile monsters had been used to train even children, including yourself, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Now, it was a risk of death every time trade happened. Perhaps it was a good thing tensions were so high between the nations nowadays.

In any case, Yoongi and yourself were trained to fight and take out even the most intelligent of monsters thanks to being taught the ways of the sword and lance respectively by your King. Yoongi also had his father for a time to fall back on before he perished. Most monsters seemed to catch onto this and kept their distance from you both, but those either too foolish or too hungry to care still attacked. You remained unscathed, your armor keeping you safe from a particularly volatile Sword rat, the purple beast expelling it’s sharp spines your way. Even bringing up your shield, a few broke through your defenses and you couldn’t help your wince as they made contact with a harsh reverberation as they hit your chest and legs.

Yoongi took a risk and threw his spear at the beast and thankfully it cried out in pain before finally going limp.  He retrieved his weapon and shot a smirk your way, and claimed you’d owe him a drink once you returned to Baron.

That was the only incident you had come across until you reached the cave itself. Since most monsters knew better than to start a fight with you both, you hoped those dwelling within the Cave of Mist would have the same ideas. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

The larvae and eyewing moths inhabiting the cave were particularly irritating. The moths liked to blind you and the larvae loved to use slow, only prolonging their inevitable deaths. Blind was always a pain to deal with; you both being melee attackers and all. Sure, spell casters and mages were affected as well, but oftentimes they could locate the monsters or other teammates thanks to locking onto their energy if they were fast enough. No such luck here. 

Still, you managed to take them out. However, something strange had occurred, twice now which was not to your liking.

 A voice had called out to you, ghostly and ominous, ordering you both to return whence you came. It had no discernable gender, but the lilt underneath the words made you guess it may have been female. 

Could this be the Eidolon you’d been sent to slay? 

Despite the constant feeling of being watched, the journey through the cave was not a difficult one and you sensed no malice from the entity. Not until you reached the cave’s exit in any case. 

“You are not welcome beyond this point, swine of Baron. Return to your castle and leave this place in peace.”

You frowned at that, ring sitting heavily in its own dedicated pouch at your hip and the image of Hoseok’s worried face in your mind. 

“We can’t do that. Please, I beg you allow us refuge. We have a mission we must see through!”’

“As do I. I take it you mean to refuse my plea then?”

The voice had gained an aggressive but defeated edge and Yoongi stepped forward, all cocky indifference. 

“We have given you your answer.”

“...Very well. Then you leave me with no choice. Forgive me.”

With that, the mist that had not aided your journey in the least began coalescing and you both drew your weapons in preparation. 

A pink scaled dragon had appeared in front of you, and you and Yoongi could both sense the difference in power compared to the weak monsters thus far. You’d used up what little Eye Drops you’d had in stock, and now only had 2 Potions after healing at the slightest injury earlier, thinking you’d had plenty. Luckily you still had both Phoenix Downs should one of you fall unconscious before the other. 

You shared a look with Yoongi and he nodded in understanding, before hopping up and continuing to move from rock to rock, trying to get as much height as possible to come down all the harder on your enemy. Not one to be left out, you turned your attention to the battle, knowing full well you were the only remaining target, and steeled yourself, letting dark energy surround you as you carefully fed just enough of yourself into your attacks to power them up while not causing too much physical damage to yourself. 

It still made you wince and caused an off sensation within your soul whenever you chose to use Darkness but the King always said the payoff would be worth it if the enemy went down. 

Said enemy roared in frustration and swung a large claw at you which you barely managed to dodge before slashing, watching as darkness coated the wound you’d left, seeping in and making it hurt all the more. Your eyes widened in surprise as before you could hop back the creature snarled and jumped, shoving you to the ground with its claws and holding you there as its face lowered towards your vulnerable frame. 

Yoongi couldn’t have chosen a better time to come, slamming down onto the back of the beast, spearing the Eidolon with as much force as he could muster. You watched as blood gushed, ignoring the confusion that hit you at seeing the substance to instead take its momentary preoccupation with Yoongi as it tried to bite him off of its back to get ahold of your sword and stabbing its foot to make it release you. 

It let out a wail of pain, and you knew you were close. Yoongi deftly hopped off and dragged you out from under the creature, tossing you a Potion before he unleashed a flurry of passionate slashes to keep the monster engaged and focused on him. You quickly slammed your mouth guard down and chugged the bitter liquid with a gag and a grimace, feeling the physical aching and the toll on your soul both fade as you regained full lucidity. 

You shook off your daze and felt the power of Darkness fade as fast as it had arrived. Better not to use it twice in one battle and from the way the beast had slowed it seemed the battle was finally coming to an end.

Yoongi was holding his own quite well; he’d always been the more nimble out of the two of you what with having to find the perfect openings to Jump and all and he’d already managed to push the creature back some so you could recover in peace. 

“Shall we finish this?”

He asked gruffly, panting. 

You nodded, but as you went to strike now that it was cornered it suddenly...dissipated into mist? 

Well, that just wasn’t fair. 

“You will pay for that…”

The ominous threat was made good on and you gasped as a snow-like substance slowly fell around you and Yoongi. You fell to your knees at the freezing cold that enveloped you. Damn. This was why you loathed magic attacks. No matter what armor you wore it mattered not. 

You saw Yoongi go down out of the corner of your eye and lunged with a cry of pure, unadulterated fear as the monster came into existence once again and made as if to strike him. 

Claws raked across your back and again, your armor or no, you felt the impact and the pain shortly after, even with the adrenaline coursing through you. You were both going to die entirely if you didn’t do something now. 

You tossed a Phoenix Down over Yoongi, knowing it’d take a moment for the bird of resurrections feathers to revitalize his life force once again, and stood defensively in front of him. A snarl turned your face to something ugly and you hissed at the monster. 

“You want him? Then you’ve got to get through me first!!”

Your cry clearly met its mark as the creature roared in ire at being provoked and you neatly dodge rolled to avoid being hit as it attempted to catch you in its claws, scrambling for your item pouch. You shoved the last Potion’s contents down your throat before you let the power of Darkness surround you one final time, ready to sacrifice whatever was necessary of yourself to ensure Yoongi survived. He wouldn’t have much HP left - that Phoenix Down would only get him conscious and all it would take was one good hit for him to go down permanently. Just as you narrowed your eyes in concentration and went to swing downwards, Yoongi let out an abrupt shout and finished his final Jump; using the last remnants of his own power to finish the battle once and for all before you had the chance. 

The creature roared, in agony this time, and you watched in cold satisfaction as it collapsed to the cave floor in defeat. 

Without so much as a look at the monster that had nearly killed your closest friend you ran over to Yoongi and forced his arm over your shoulder. 

“What are you-?”

“Don’t pretend you aren't barely hanging onto consciousness right now you idiot. I know how Phoenix Downs work. It may revitalize you but it’s only enough to get you off the floor unless you also have a Potion or more on hand.”

You began trudging to the cave’s exit, squinting into the dusk. 

“We’re making a tent for the night, understand? We’ll go to Mist at first light. You’re in no condition to do anything right now besides recover. I’ll take watch after tending to your wounds and you’ll go right to sleep.”

Yoongi chuckled under his breath until he was forced to cough in pain and you frowned in annoyance at him briefly as fresh air greeted you both. It was a welcome change to the musky cave scent you’d both been stuck with for the past many hours you’d been stuck there. That damn mist had definitely cost you time and from how dark it was outside, you’d been there at least half a day. You'd made good time, if nothing else.  

“What’s so funny?”

“You can be such a parent sometimes. I’m fine. Being knocked out happens in fights sometimes. Besides, I managed to save you, didn’t I? I’d say I recovered just fine.”

He muttered cheekily, his voice gruff from being drawn unwillingly out of his unconscious state earlier. 

You grumbled at that. 

“I had it under control. And anyway...it’s dead. That’s all that matters. The only thing left to do now is to give this ring to Mist and see what they make of it. Surely one of them must know, else his Majesty would not have sent us here.”

You gently set Yoongi down onto a grassy hill you’d found, spotting Mist awaiting you both at the bottom. You were a little winded from carrying his weight; like it or not you were smaller and still weaker than him when it came to straight strength. A quick glance around made you relax a little as you sat down as well, taking off your helmet and letting yourself gulp in the fresh air with relief. It really had felt stuffy in that damn cave. Yoongi meanwhile was stripping himself of his armor, and you nodded down towards where a stream flowed steadily into the town. 

“Don’t be afraid to go wash up a little if you’d like once you feel well enough to stand. We can go at dawn as well if you’d prefer, given we’ll be sleeping outside tonight and all.”

Yoongi leveled a glare towards Mist and grumbled as he ran a hand through his messy locks, brushing away the dirt from the cave clinging to his undershirt and pants. 

“It’d be nice if we could just go rest at the inn but I know that’s an impossible venture. Say…” 

He winced as he examined a few of his wounds, mainly scrapes, and bruises but he had a nice long gash on his arm and head bled a bit as well, most likely from when he’d fallen unconscious. 

You could feel your own body aching but tried not to dwell on it, instead rummaging around your item pouch and grabbing a small loaf of bread you'd stashed away and a handkerchief Hoseok always made you carry. A small fond smile twitched onto your lips at the thought of him and you removed your helmet to see better. 

Yoongi had turned his gaze to you curiously, expecting you to stay in your armor in the case of monsters but you sighed at his inquiring gaze as you stood and merely walked over to the log he was sitting on, kneeling in front of him and beginning to dab at his bloody forehead. 

"Silly Dragoon. When will you learn to stop putting yourself at risk huh?"

You pushed the bread into his hands, with your free one continuing to dab at his wound gently. 

"Eat. It'll help you recover faster."

"But what about-" 

"I'm not the one who got knocked out."

You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your face and tilted your head to meet his steely brown gaze. 

"...You'll eat half or I won't so much as touch it."

You groaned as you smacked his hand away, grumbling at him as you uncorked the only Potion you had left and spilled a little onto the cloth to dab onto the cut on his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips as he let out a hiss of pain and clenched his hand into a fist. 

"You're such a child sometimes. Fine, you big baby. Just eat, will you? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I should've picked up White Magic as well just to make up for your recklessness."

Yoongi eyed you over the bread as you sat back and sprawled out on the soft grass and nibbled at your half. 

"Don't act like you're the paragon of strategy. I saw how you were going to foolishly put yourself in a critical state to try and take the Eidolon out. Armor off. I know you're injured too and we still have ¾ of this Potion left."

His eyes narrowed with a little playful sadism and you knew he was looking forward to tending to your wounds as well. 

You smiled with a tinge of nervousness and shook your head. 

"No, I'm fine rea-"

"I will come over there and tug it off myself."

"Y-You're too weak to!"

You challenged in disbelief, calling his bluff. 

His eyes sparkled again and a cheeky grin now adorned his lips as he moved to stand, causing you to squeak and scramble away from him as you fumbled with your armor. 

"A-Alright alright! Sheesh!"

His low voice snickered in amusement as you blushed and reluctantly tugged off the heavy armor pieces. They'd been dented something awful in that fight; you’d need to get it fixed at a blacksmith once you got back to Baron. Still, you had to admit having the added weight off of your tired body was a welcome change. 

You were indeed injured as Yoongi and yourself had both noted and you winced at the gash in your side, not having noticed that the Eidolon must’ve managed to graze your side with its claws, fairly deeply. Your black t-shirt was tattered, barely sticking to your body from sweat and a bit from the blood as well. Your head was pounding too, the cool night air alerting you to just how hard you must’ve hit your head as you went down. 

“Come. Shirt off; that looks deep.”

You jumped a bit in surprise at Yoongi’s voice right by your ear, turning to frown at him over your shoulder. 

“I can take care of it myself Yoongi, you should rest.”

He stared you down until you caved with a huff and shucked off the remnants of your shirt. You made a good choice wearing your more flexible undergarments for activity today in anticipation of fighting. Made this all much more bearable, but Yoongi was resolutely focused on your wound in any case even so. You knew he wouldn’t lay down, let alone sleep until he knew you were at least taken care of. It warmed your heart that he cared for you so. 

That warmth faded to a whimper as gentle fingers brushed along the wound assessing the damage. 

“Apologies. Hm...Come. I want to clean this with water first. It’s deeper than it looks. It’s a good thing I brought that extra shirt with me after all.” 

You felt a little woozy truth be told, but you were still trying to keep yourself together. Yoongi had been knocked out after all. He had to be in worse shape than you. You had to be strong for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t buying it though. His gaze locked onto the way you swayed and when he saw you stutter a step as you went to start moving towards the stream nearby, he was quick to grab his shirt and rush to your side where he steadied you with a warm hand on your upper arm. 

“Idiot. How did you not notice you were losing this much blood?”

You laughed weakly, through the dizziness as Yoongi helped to guide you to the water. 

“Adrenaline is a powerful thing, as Hoseok says. I didn’t even feel it until you made me take off my armor.”

Yoongi growled at that, frustrated as he rushed to clean the wound, uncaring as you flinched at the icy water against your skin. 

"Well, we'll have to pray my actions are enough to keep you from meeting an early demise. I know you're strong but even you are Mortal."

The wound now as clean as it could be without magical help, Yoongi reached over for the Potion at his side and poured ¼ of the contents over the wound itself making you yowl in pain. 

He was too focused on his task to pay much attention, however, pouring the other ½ of the bottle onto his shirt which he pressed tightly to your side. He frowned seriously at you. 

"Hold it there, understand? I'll be back in a moment; I have to grab your armor piece. It'll hold the fabric tightly against the wound for the time being."

You meanwhile were trying to cope with the unbearable stinging. The wound had been deep indeed. You could feel the Potions remnants trying to stitch your body together, to slow the bleeding. It was working, however slow, but Ashura above it hurt. 

Yoongi returned after a time and you were surprised to see he was holding another Potion in hand. 

"How-?"

He frowned coldly as he crouched at your side and you registered he was now fully adorned in his teal armor save for his helmet which he'd taken off once he saw you. 

Your suspicion was confirmed when he wordlessly pressed a familiar earring into your hand. 

"You bloody idiot!!!"

Your voice was a poisonous whisper, not wanting to draw any sleeping monsters as you scowled at him and he numbly handed you the Potion. 

"Drink."

You shook your head. 

"I can't believe you went back to loot that Eidolon Yoongi.  What if you'd awoken a monster and-"

Your voice cracked and Yoongi sighed heavily as he saw angry tears make your eyes glassy. You could be so overemotional. You wore facades well around others but he and Hoseok had always been exceptions. You had no need to worry over him. 

"I'm here, alive and well, am I not? My wounds are light enough that a good night's sleep will be enough. But yours are more serious. I’m not risking losing you for the sake of your pride. Now drink or I’ll make you.” 

His voice lowered an octave at his last sentence and you glowered at him one last time before tossing the Potion back, wincing at the disgusting taste, but sighing in relief as your wound knitted itself back together, speeding up your body's cell regeneration a bit. It was no Hi or even X Potion, but it had sped the process up enough to be sure your body would be fully healed by tomorrow, and at least the bleeding had stopped. A touch of your head and you noted the tingling sensation had faded. Hopefully, any injury you had there had ceased to be as well. 

Yoongi had busied himself with attaching just the armor for your side into place so that the Potion soaked fabric would be held against your skin but he turned his gaze to you as he stood and stretched, once again discarding his armor. 

“Well; that’s enough excitement for one night. I’m going to go rest until we have to rise at first light.  Call if any particularly threatening monsters arise.”

You also stood, your own armor halfway back on as you gently called his name. 

“Yoongi!”

He paused, halfway up the hill. His hair was mussed from his rush to loot the Eidolon for your benefit; his long blond ponytail trailing behind him. Long hair has been a part of Dragoon culture for nearly as long as the profession itself had been. It was as characteristic to the culture as the Monks wearing it short, braided, or not at all. Yoongi had mentioned his father had explained that it was a demonstration of the freedom Dragoons symbolized and always fought for. He turned to look at you and his perceptive brown eyes locked onto your own. 

You smiled kindly, gaze sincere. 

“Thank you. I know I can be…” 

You sheepishly rubbed at the back of your neck. 

“A bit difficult sometimes. I appreciate it, and you.”

Yoongi scoffed but you could now clearly see his cheeks turning red in embarrassment before he whirled to finish his journey back towards camp to hide it. You still caught the fondness of his tone though, despite the playful words.

“Always so soft…”

You watched until you could no longer see him and turned back to your armor, finishing putting it on and tugging your darkened helmet over your head once more. Luckily the night was still with the only sounds you could hear being the stream beside you and the chirping of harmless bugs. The twin moons were both full tonight, illuminating the Blue Planet brilliantly. 

Nevertheless, you decided to do a quick perimeter check deciding your newly healed body could use the movement. It was a peaceful night and you heard the faint crackling of torches as you neared the entrance to Mist. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you watched a young girl run to the river, bucket in one hand and a cloth handmade doll in the other haphazardly sewn together. 

She seemed panicked and you faintly heard her voice carry to where you stood just beyond the tree line. 

“Agh I can’t believe I forgot to restock!! Mom’s gonna kill me!!”

She finally managed to get the bucket full but you winced sympathetically as in her rush she tumbled over the bucket and sent water spilling everywhere; soaking her to the bone. Just as you debated emerging to help, an older woman with the same hair and eye color ran out of the town and up to her, a worried frown on her lips. 

“Jenjia just what do you think you’re doing!?”

Her voice was much quieter you noticed thankfully; it would’ve probably been bad if any fiends had been awoken earlier. 

The girl, Jenjia as you now knew her, looked sheepish and beamed nervously up at her mother, clasping her hands behind her back. 

“I’m sorry Mom, I just realized we didn’t have any water to boil! You like to have your tea at night with Daddy and I forgot when playing with Cheryl earlier…” 

She scuffed her worn looking loafers on the ground as her mother shook her head. 

“Well then that’s a day well spent, isn’t it? I’d rather have my daughter home safe and sound than a cup of tea Jia. Your father will feel the same. Leviathan will keep our water flowing clean until tomorrow to refill the stores. Come along now; I’ve already put some beef stew on the stove and I’d rather it didn’t get cold.”

Your heart warmed at the gentle interaction even as a bitter twinge you didn’t want to acknowledge made your chest hurt. You had His Majesty, and that was enough. You never would’ve found Yoongi or Hoseok without him. You turned away as you recalled Yoongi and the girl grabbed her Mother’s hand to be led inside. 

Best you were on your way in any case; it wouldn’t be good if Yoongi woke to find you missing, or if a monster snuck up on your camp.

The rest of the night watch passed uneventfully and Yoongi awoke, as he usually did, at first light. 

You offered him a capful of water from your flask and he drank it gratefully. You’d used up all the food last night; you really should bring more than simple bread next time. Honestly, it had just slipped your mind...this was why Yoongi and Hoseok typically took care of provisions. You always managed to miss something. 

You fiddled absentmindedly with the new earring Yoongi had presented you with last night. It was common practice within Baron to claim trophies from particularly tough monsters and wear them as badges of honor. Typically; you felt pride in a kill and yesterday your mind had been preoccupied with panic and anger but now that it was the next morning you felt no joy, no sense of victory, There had been...no malice or hate that you typically felt from monsters. And it had bled too. It was...odd. 

Still, Yoongi had risked his life to get it for you, and King Odin would surely be pleased with the sight of it upon your return. Best to keep it on for now. 

You jumped as a pair of armored hands abruptly clapped in your face and offered a weak smile to Yoongi as he held out his hand to help you up. 

You grasped it, and he easily pulled you to your feet. 

“How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t help the worry seeping into your tone but Yoongi waved you off. 

“I told you last night I’d be fine and I am. I feel fit as yesterday before we’d even departed. Rest can often be even more healing than a Potion or Cure spell. Now then, shall we go? I’m sure you must be exhausted and the sooner we return home the sooner we can get you some much needed and deserved rest.”

You nodded at that, and after making sure you both had snuffed out the fire and that your weapons and armor were properly set you began your short trek to the gates of Mist. 

It was a tiny village you knew, unlike Damcyan, Fabul, Troia, or Eblan there was no castle, and even Mysidia was more bustling and lively than the few houses dwelling here. It was humble to be sure, but there was a peace and a sense of sincerity here that you doubted you could find anywhere else. 

You fingered the box holding the ring in your pocket, a bit nervous now that you were here. Baron and Mist had never had particularly good relations. You prayed that the King asking for their input would establish a rapport and help you maintain a good relationship. You lowered your face visor, figuring being able to see some part of you that was human behind your demonic looking armor would help put them at ease. 

As Yoongi and you both entered the village you noticed the civilians within already began side-eying you distrustingly and couldn’t help but wonder if word of Mysidia had already spread but quickly reminded yourself that that was impossible. After all; Troia was the only neighboring kingdom and they would’ve had to have taken an airship here just to inform them. A general lack of airships besides Baron aside, Troia was always neutral anyway and pretty much entirely isolated.

Guess tensions with Baron really were high then. 

You suddenly noticed a woman approaching you and recognized her as the mother from last night. Her daughter clutched at her skirt, observing you with curious if shy eyes. You smiled at her while Yoongi offered a respectful nod to the mother. 

“Good day ma’am we were just-”

His words were cut off by your pained yelp as you ripped the now searing box that held the ring out of its pouch. You’d been so preoccupied with calming down the young girl you hadn’t noticed the rising temperature until it was near scorching. 

“The ring!”

The box was rustling wildly of its own accord as it hit the ground, and Yoongi frowned deeply in confusion only to roughly pull you back several feet as he too jumped back. 

The woman too had shoved her daughter behind her and was examining the box before recognition lit her eyes. 

“This is-!”

Boom

The box exploded open and Bomb monsters hidden inside didn’t waste any time as they began setting fire to anything and anyone they could. In seconds the village was burning and the smell of burning flesh was everywhere. You could do little more than watch in horrified shock as smoke already was causing your eyes to burn at the spot the woman had just been. That initial violent opening of the box had scorched the poor woman...and her daughter you noted numbly, where they’d stood. The girl-Jenjia you reminded yourself, she had a name- all that remained of her was her doll, slowly burning away to nothingness in front of your very eyes. Suddenly, an abrupt realization hit you.

The bombs were carefully not targeting Yoongi and yourself.

You shook violently as words escaped your lips in hushed horror, taking in the carnage caused in the wake of your visit. It had to be a mistake, it had to. Yoongi would be truthful with you. You must’ve missed something. This wasn’t happening.

“This is what we were sent to do?”

Yoongi looked around with detached and grim determination.

“He wished this village torched.”

Tears streamed down your face and evaporated just as quickly, whether from the flames and smoke or the horror and disgust coursing through you; who could say? You trembled with rage and clenched your fists so tightly your already dented armor creaked a bit more from the force of it. 

“But why?”

You raised your head to the sky and let out a guttural raw of pure primal agony. 

“Why!?!”

Yoongi remained silent beside you, but you could feel the tenseness coming off of him in waves. This upset him too, you were sure. You numbly looked back down at the ground and it took you a few moments to register a new sound amid the now silent town besides the crackling of the fire and the creaking of buildings as they collapsed in on themselves. Destroyed in mere minutes. 

A young boy sobbing. 

You grimly raised your head and began walking towards the sound hearing Yoongi’s steady footsteps beside you. 

You came across a mint haired boy, hysterically gasping over a woman’s body. Luckily the child was beside the only water source in the town; a small pool which seemed to have kept the Bombs at bay. 

As Yoongi and you approached, he clung all the harder to his mother, not even noticing both of you. You barely managed to make out the words between his heart-wrenching sobs. 

“Mother you can’t die! J-Just because your dragon did!!” 

Yoongi’s eyes suddenly lit with understanding behind his visor and you turned to him in confusion as he nodded to himself. 

“I’ve heard of their lot. Men who can conjure Eidolons...Summoners.”

It suddenly hit you and you mumbled to yourself as it all seemed to come together. 

“Then the dragon we slew...was...his mothers?”

The boy gasped at the sound of your voice and turned to glare fearfully at you and Yoongi making you wince as you met his gaze behind your visor in reluctant admission of your guilt. He stood in an attempt to appear more intimidating even despite the tremor in his voice showing how petrified he was just underneath the facade.

“You...You’re the ones who killed her dragon!?”

You swallowed the bitter taste on your tongue as you pleaded with the boy. Moon above, he couldn’t be more than 10. 

“Forgive us. We’d no idea this would happen to your mother.”

It sounded exactly what it was. Weak and pathetic. There would be no forgiveness. Not for this. Nor for Mysidia. 

You forced your gaze to his deceased Mother and sent up a prayer. As if that would help him now. 

Yoongi looked around and finally spoke up, tone matter of fact. 

“His Majesty sent us to eliminate every last one of these people.”

Your legs finally gave out, unable to take the weight being placed upon you. 

“No…”

Yoongi frowned as he looked down at you, assessing your condition before he began to move towards the boy with grim determination. 

“Foul work to be sure. But we’ll need to kill the boy as well.”

At that you lunged, just before he reached him, hopping to your feet and pushing against his chest plate in horrified desperation. 

“Yoongi!!”

Up close as you were, you could feel his breath on your skin, could hear the hateful sense of begrudging duty in his tone.

“It’s him or us ____!” 

You pushed him with all your might, making him take a step back even with the weakness coursing through your shaky body.

“He’s a child!”

You turned to look down at the still sobbing boy who was too preoccupied with trying to wipe his tears to pay attention to you both. 

“You’d betray your King?”

Yoongi’s voice now held a note of finality,

You turned to fully face him, clenching your hand into a fist and drawing it close to your chest.

“Betray him? Any King who’d wish for this is no King of mine!!” 

You snarled, harshly swinging your arm out in a subconscious show of disgusted frustration. 

Yoongi smirked at you suddenly and you found yourself startled as he scoffed in humor. 

“Hmph. I thought you might say that.”

Your eyes searched for him just behind your visor as you grew hopeful. 

“Then…?”

He looked off into the distance for a moment and then turned to you with sharp determination. 

“I owe his Majesty much but not so much I’d soil the Dragoon’s name in his.”

He planted his spear down with finality.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him in excitement.

“Then you’re with me?”

He made sure to meet your gaze and wordlessly nodded twice in support before he turned, this time towards the destruction, and walked past the boy as he spoke, looking out at it. 

“Baron’s army is the mightiest in the world. Our flight means nothing if we remain alone; we must treat with other nations, share what we’ve seen…”

He hesitated and then turned to look at you once more. 

“And Hoseok, he must share our flight.”

Your tone softened in affection for him and you nodded, stepping closer.

“And he will. Thank you.”

He turned away for a moment and mumbled to himself. 

“...I’m not doing this for you.”

You didn’t hear him and tilted your head. 

“Huh?”

Yoongi ignored you however and turned to nod towards the boy.

“Quickly, we mustn’t linger here! What of the boy?”

You didn’t even hesitate. 

“We take him with us.”

After hesitating a moment you approached him where he was still crouched protectively over his mother’s body as Yoongi watched uneasily but stayed where he was. 

“Come, it’s not safe here! Take my hand.” 

You asked gently, holding out your hand to the boy. 

He hopped away from you with a glower. 

“No!!” 

Yoongi growled low in his throat at that.

“We’ve no time; use force if you must!”

He joined you as he ran over and Jimin cowered away in fear disguised as anger. 

“Stay away!”

You held out your hand as Yoongi and you both froze. 

“Wait!” 

The child began running in earnest and Yoongi and you both followed, hot on his heels when he suddenly curled in on himself with a choked sob.

“Leave me alone!” 

He suddenly screeched as blinding white light surged up from beneath his feet and you could feel the magical energy emanating from him. Yoongi had faltered but you kept running, refusing to be responsible for the death of another child. If he harmed you so be it...you deserved it anyway.

“I HATE YOU!!!”

You felt the earth shake violently and you glanced up to see a massive Titan made of pure earth. The Eidolon raised its hands, your eyes widened and you lunged curling your arms around the boy as you crushed him protectively against your chest as hard as you could just as he fell unconscious from exertion. You felt the Titan’s hands come down onto the Blue Planet’s surface hard and your body flew into the air. 

If you were to die then so be it, but let this child survive at least. 

He need not share the payment for your sins.

You slammed against the ground hard several times, but curled your body inward all the more around his tiny body in spite of the pain, praying your armor would be enough to absorb the impact as you finally, mercifully joined the child in unconsciousness.

A/N:  Welp, I hope those that actually read this series enjoy it; I’ve only gotten one rambly review on AO3 that inspired be to keep posting this so thank them if you enjoy this series and I’m not talking to myself. Anyway! Onto fun notes about this chapter! :) 

I find Yoongi’s characterization and his relationship to Reader to be one of the most fun parts to explore thus far for me this chapter as well as how they fight together in a serious battle. I also delved into status effects some as well as the various uses of Potions! Expect more explained uses of items and such as the series goes on! Yoongi’s look hair wise in Daechwita perfectly fits both the OG character Yoongi is based off of(Kain Highwind). Luckily it hit me as I was going through mvs, trying to decide if there was anything that matched Kain’s lucious locks and there it was! 

Also yay!! Official intro for Jimin! I know he’s never had mint hair before but I just had to include the nod to the OG game after doing Yoongi’s so...please bare with me. These are the ones I felt most fit what I was imagining. 

Hope you all enjoy and please leave feedback it’s a huge motivator for me! Much love hope ya’ll are enjoying the influx of content from me lately! <3

[puttingfingerstokeys]

thermodynamic equilibrium

there’s a fucking mouthful for ya. Fire and Ice (subscorp)... sorta hurt/comfort but in a gruff old guy ninja way??? idk I love these fuckers. Unedited and like, I didn’t bother messing with italics because I am, as you may have gathered, painfully lazy. Sequel to Heart and Fire.

Broken Timeline 

The furs-covered bed, broad and expansive, was plenty of room and then some for the Grandmaster. The “and then some” was occupied by his recently-returned lover, Hanzo Hasashi. Kuai Liang slept peacefully next to him, one arm tucked under Scorpion’s neck, with the man’s face pressed close into his chest, hands curled up somewhere between them, protective. Their bodies sprawled next to each other, entangled from earlier exertions and, since neither had been willing to part, there they stayed, chill against hot, pale against nut brown. We are truly balanced, then, aren’t we? Sub-Zero’s dreams drifted in and out of the sensible, as dreams did, leading him down the paths of old memory and then into uncharted fog, the future, perhaps. It was only when his dreams began to prickle and scorch that he stirred.

Hanzo did not stir. He lay motionless, making nary a sound. His body, however, was heating up at an alarming rate, rather like a fever. Sub-Zero awakened to the touch of scalding flesh upon him. He breathed deeply, seeking the cool, quiet spot, deep in his spirit, the place whence his ice would be summoned. They had done this before, many times, during Scorpion’s recovery. Takeda had graciously agreed to continue his post as interim Grandmaster of the Shirai-Ryu while Hanzo made the arduous trek back to true, thriving life. It was Kuai Liang’s pleasure to be the catalyst for this, despite Scorpion’s vehement protests.

Carefully, he wrapped his chilling arms tighter about the other man’s compact frame. Scorpion was tense, coiled like a spring, and the heat was becoming unbearable. Once more, Sub-Zero took a breath of cool night air, warmed by the braziers which burned low in his chambers, slowed by curtains and furs, but otherwise pure and unhindered. Hanzo pushed away from the grip instinctively, some part of him recognizing potential danger—either via memory or training. Kuai Liang redoubled his efforts and slowly began speaking to his friend. At first, he said little other than “you are safe” and “it is not real—whatever you are seeing is a dream”, which soon evolved into gentle declarations of adoration, protection, and deep, abiding affection.

By the time icy kisses began raining over Scorpion’s face, the man was awake and breathing hard, no longer fighting against Sub-Zero’s arms but pulling himself closer, clinging to the man like a life raft. His heart hammered violently in the confines of his broad chest and he was sweating hard, the droplets beginning to vaporize in the heat that his own body was producing. The shivering started soon after as Kuai Liang’s grip began to chill him to the very center and he finally, finally relaxed.

“That was interminable,” he growled irritably, nestling closer to Sub-Zero with a shudder he could not hold back. Still their limbs were entangled and so they stayed even as he shifted. “I do not know how much longer I can stand these… spells.”

“You have suffered great trauma, Hanzo, and loss,” Kuai Liang reminded him, reaching down to pull more furs up and over the two of them. He considered removing himself from the equation and sleeping atop them, holding Scorpion through their warmth, but it was clear from the way the Shirai-Ryu Grandmaster was laying that he did not want him to go anywhere. 

“I have suffered these things before,” snarled Scorpion.

“And you slept alone, then, struggling through it on your own.”

“I did not sleep.”

“Even worse, my Fire. You must recover yourself; your clan needs you, but they do not need one who refuses to do that properly.”

Scorpion stiffened. Sub-Zero knew just how to speak, what to say, and when, to slide deftly under the fiery ninja’s skin and prick him deep and thoroughly. He was right, of course. Long years as Grandmaster had taught Kuai Liang much, but he had learned even more growing up in the chilly ranks of the Lin Kuei, battling not only external foes, but internal in the form of his resentful brother, Bi-Han, and others who hardly deemed him worthy of the name Tundra, much less Sub-Zero.

My love has proven them wrong, he reminded himself, so many times over, I cannot count. It will do so again. He held Scorpion gently now, shifting back to peer into those white, inscrutable, wraith’s eyes. He missed the gentle, doe brown of Hanzo’s—the color that was wholly his and no one else’s. It was flecked with gold and glowed with inner fire Sub-Zero could not begin to describe, only to appreciate in gestures bordering on the worshipful.

Kuai Liang was content to rest in the silence, but he did not close his eyes, opting instead to continue watching Scorpion’s face. The man’s features were so refined and sharp that every twitch of a muscle seemed to change his whole countenance. Perhaps it was long years of knowing the man without his mask, but Sub-Zero thought his features were beautifully sculpted to tell any viewer with half a mind precisely what he was thinking.

Many seemed to miss these cues and ended up on the wrong side of Hanzo Hasashi’s hellfire temper. Even Kuai Liang himself had felt the heat, more than once, but rarely without purpose and always to good ends. He recalled their first serious conflict with relish and fondness. He had proposed the unity of their clans. When Scorpion had responded with expected hostility, having only recently began the road to rebuilding the Fire Gardens and the Shirai-Ryu, Sub-Zero had merely stated he would reiterate his proposal when he, Scorpion, had “cooled down”.

This had, naturally, caused Hanzo’s ire to rise to a fever pitch and the battle had been glorious. Kuai Liang still bore a few scars from it and he noticed that Scorpion did, too. They were well-matched and what had finished it, what had saved them both from unnecessary pain, was Sub-Zero’s powerful arms, closing around Scorpion’s body, holding tight, and deep freezing him. “I will cool you down, then,” he had said, speaking it into the Shirai-Ryu ninja’s ear as the man lost consciousness. 

Once again, it was this same technique which was helping to pull Hanzo Hasashi out of that space of nightmares and hellscapes which was the subconscious, unconscious mind of a survivor of Netherrealm’s deepest pits.

“I will bear these scars for the rest of my life,” Scorpion said, staring into Sub-Zero’s eyes, daring him to argue. Nodding, Sub-Zero brought his lips to the man’s forehead, laying them there gently, without urgency, drawing back as he pleased.

“I know you will,” he said quietly. “Your body and mind are a tapestry of your story—we are all stories, but some of us are … page-turners.”

His smile was soft, just as gentle as the kiss he had offered up. It softened Hanzo’s expression marginally and Kuai Liang felt himself breathe a mental sigh of relief. He was afraid it would come to blows, as it sometimes did. Likely, now, they would speak a while, talk of the past, of the future, of the present, and then perhaps make love before drifting off once more.

Their athleticism had not waned in their time apart, but upon Sub-Zero’s insistence, they were taking it relatively easy on the intimacy front. He knew it frustrated his companion, but the last thing he wanted to do was prolong Hanzo’s recovery time because they had been a little too ambitious. He didn’t mind having the man around. Ideally, Scorpion would simply retire, leave the Shirai-Ryu to Takeda, a very worthy successor, and come to live with him at Arctika, permanently.

He knew there was more of a chance to see Lord Raiden’s hair.

“Takeda is a worthy man,” Hanzo whispered hoarsely, dropping his gaze, wishing only to talk now. 

“You trained him well,” said Sub-Zero, his compliment not a hollow one. He had seen the Shirai-Ryu fight and they were all proficient and dangerous, as assassins ought to be, but Takeda was on another level entirely. Perhaps it was his innate telepathy that gave him an edge, but without training, it would otherwise be useless.

“He is a son to me,” stated Scorpion almost too flatly, as if he, working so hard to conceal his emotions regarding Takeda Takahashi, had overcompensated and utterly drained the statement of its life’s blood. Sub-Zero understood. He tightened his hold a moment. “I know I have no right,” Hanzo continued, “as he is already the son of another, but his firstborn bears my name, so I am responsible for him.” 

“He is responsible for himself, as every Earthrealm warrior should be,” Kuai Liang returned, “and besides, no Shirai-Ryu is alone, are they? You are family.”

“I do not like the separation,” admitted Hanzo, his voice barely above a whisper once more, afraid to admit this aloud, too. “I feel I am… failing them, weakening the clan.”

“You have added to your ranks, my Fire—Jacqueline Briggs is more than a competent kombatant. She makes Takeda a better man and he makes her a better woman; they sharpen each other as lovers must do. They are the ideal for your clan and family.”

Struck by the passion of Sub-Zero’s speech, Scorpion looked up again, reading much and more in his companion’s features, but still not quite able to discern whence this fervor had come. His heart was even beating faster, which it never did. A kryomancer’s heart was almost always on low, relatively speaking. This alarmed Hanzo, but he said nothing, content to see what would come next.

“You are family,” Kuai Liang repeated, “and… I desire to… also be part of your family, Hanzo.” He paused, pursing his lips and considering, but never, ever breaking eye contact with Scorpion. The man was not unlike a beast, at times, and dropping one’s gaze was absolutely a sign of weakness—something he could not afford right now, if his wishes, his deepest, most pure desires were to be fulfilled. “Do me the honor, if you would, Grandmaster, of being mine… permanently, in blood and covenant, forever.”

It was not a question.

And it need not have been. Scorpion expected force and vigor from his lover and this was precisely that, and then some. His surprise came from the fact that the proposal had followed yet another of his episodes, each one of which he considered shameful and a mark upon his honor. Every single time, he had vowed in blood that it would be his last. Each time, he knew Sub-Zero knew better. Did he hate this or love it about the man? He could not decide.

“An alliance,” he grunted. Kuai Liang laughed, a hoarse sound, but not without joy, not by a long shot. He squeezed Hanzo tightly once more and buried his face in the man’s hair, breathing deep the scent of the one he loved more than his own life.

“Yes, you silly fool, an alliance,” said Sub-Zero, still laughing and once more drawing Scorpion to him, this time pressing their lips together, long and slow. The heat of Hanzo’s mouth and the chill of Kuai Liang’s mixed somewhere in the center of complete comfort and the beginnings of tantalizing satisfaction. The conclusion would arrive hours later in breathless gasps and the sound of each other’s names, spoken with reverence and gravity, the spill of their love preceding deep, restful sleep until the rosy fingers of dawn caressed them and they arose to the winter wonderland of Arctika and a new day.

[tomorrowsdrama]

Hyena Ep. 16

I’m baaack!  Kind of.  I think I hit that point in my quarantine life where I kind of lost my mind so I went on an unexpected hiatus that lasted longer than intended.  I know it’s been over a month after the finale of Hyena but here are my ramblings.  This post is super long so I’ll save my thoughts on the series as a whole for another post.

Objectively, it was a pretty good finale that was entertaining and wrapped up the important plot lines.  We even got some sweet otp moments (more on that later) and satisfying smackdown of the bad guy.  But subjectively?  Personally?  Purely based on my selfish expectations?  I wanted more romance!  More sexiness!  I wasn’t expecting a wedding or anything like that but, not even one kiss?  Or a long embrace?  Why????

I mean, how can you give me all this sexy chemistry in the promos:

And then not make use of it in the finale?  That’s just not fair I say!  I feel bamboozled!

Ep. 16

Anyway, let’s talk about the parts I enjoyed of the finale.  This is mainly (99%) going to be about the moments between Geum Ja and Hee Jae.  So on the morning of episode 16, way back when, I woke up so excited for the finale.  Since this was the last episode, surely there will be a kiss!  And surely it would be epic given the chemistry between JJH and KHS.  I mean did you see that kiss in episode 8?  So when we started off the episode with the scene of Hee Jae telling Geum Ja he didn’t want to see her hurt anymore, I was amped.  Yes, we’re starting off strong with the romantic scenes I thought.

How can you not fall for him?

Geum Ja, you are not a gangster, you do not need to show your story through the scars on your body.  Joking aside, it’s sad that she’s been through so much in life that she has the scars to prove it. 

I love that Hee Jae says this half-sarcastically but you can tell that he truly does not want Geum Ja to go through any more pain/suffering.  And it’s his sincerity that makes Geum Ja smile so softly.  And this is where they kiss right?

Nope, he gets a hearty bro punch in the shoulder.

Cut for lots of caps and ramblings.  It’s a bit of a mini novel, you’ve been warned!

Mmm I loved how many scenes of concerned Hee Jae we got in this episode.  

Geum Ja screams from a nightmare and Hee Jae immediately runs into the office to check on her.  The only way he could have reacted so quickly is if he was sitting outside the office guarding Geum Ja which...AHHH I think I’ve just died and gone to hurt/comfort heaven.  Just look at JJH’s face.

EEE!  I audibly squealed when Geum Ja said this.  Ok, now I’ve truly died.  Geum Ja?  Asking to be comforted?  By Hee Jae?  What?  This is major.  She’s finally letting down her walls a little bit around Hee Jae and allowing herself to be vulnerable.  Keep on leaning I say!  Lean all the way into bed.

Omg and then she showed concern over Hee Jae’s own emotional state despite her own trauma.  His dad totally betrayed him just a few hours ago so Hee Jae’s having a pretty shitty day too.  But of course, Hee Jae is only concerned about Geum Ja.  Ahh, how many times is he going to make me swoon in this episode?  

Feet piled on top of each other?!  Are they finally in bed together?

Of course not.  Unfortunately, this isn’t that type of drama.  SIGH.  But this is still very sweet and squeal-inducing.

Have I talked about how much I love JJH’s little sly smirks?

I love that these two fools can’t stop worrying about the other.  Geum Ja knows better than anyone how deep emotional scars caused by a parent can be.  On top of that, Hee Jae’s father was someone he respected and loved, so the blow is even bigger.  I just really like it when my otp show how much they care about each other, ok?

Look at that smile on Hee Jae’s face.  It’s like there’s no other place he would rather be than next to Geum Ja. 

No, please don’t.  Y’all are not 12.  Please get at least a queen size bed with plenty of room for two adults to move around in and do...adult things lol.

And then.  AND THEN!  Geum Ja takes the initiative and turns over towards Hee Jae.  She’s finally the one taking the first step towards him without any prodding.  And Hee Jae smiles to himself and follows her lead to turn over also.  And then the two fools smile lovingly at each other as they fall asleep.  Omg, excuse me, I need a moment.  I’ve temporarily passed on to the other side from sheer otp happiness.

This moment was just too good.  I literally raised both my arms up into the air and cheered when I first watched this episode.  I thought, wow the writers are feeding us so well.  They’re showering us with so many romantic scenes.  The otp caring for each other?  Being tender with each other?  Sharing a “bed?”  I don’t want to ever get off this love train, keep it coming!  This is only the first third of the episode so surely it can only go up from here.

And then it ended on a comedic note.  I guess I should have seen that coming.  This is SBS, not TVN (or JTBC from the looks of The World of the Married).  Hah, well I suppose they both had a pretty tiring day so it’s understandable that they would not have much energy to do anything else.

It’s the little everyday things like asking if she’s ok that get me.

(JJH I thirst for you.)

Suuuuure you are.

Lol, he wouldn’t be Hee Jae if he didn’t pull something childish/petty.  At least Geum Ja is amused by it and finds it cute now.  Get you a man who can be both your emotional support and amusing bratty boyfriend.

Geum Ja does end up meeting Hee Jae for dinner and he can’t help but smile a little.  Gosh, it takes so little from Geum Ja to make him happy.

(damn, look at that profile!)

So some time during this episode, Geum Ja’s adoptive father died off-screen from the stab wound he sustained while stopping her assailant.  At first, I went “Huh, that’s it?”  But then the more I thought about it, the more I liked how matter-of-factly it was treated.  It’s certainly consistent with how Geum Ja deals with things.  Also, she faced her demons/him in a previous episode so you could say that she already resolved that chapter of her life.  

Still, you could tell that she’s not completely unaffected by it.  KHS’s acting in this scene is so good. You can tell there’s more to it than what she’s saying just by the little subtle changes in her expression.  I can only imagine the many complicated feelings she must be experiencing.  

On the one hand, he’s the worst part of her past life and surely deserved to die.  But on the other hand, unintentional or not, he died saving her.  Geum Ja does not state this with any affection or sentimentality in her voice.  It is merely something that happened.  Thank goodness the writers did not try to redeem him in the last minute.  One good deed does not make up for all the violence and abuse inflicted on her and her mother.  

Anyway, all that muddled history and emotions would make anybody conflicted.  They really handled it the best way they could - simply state what happened and move on.  No hate, no praise, no sadness.  He was a terrible man who paid the ultimate price and died.  I like that Hee Jae understands not to push the matter any further and changes the subject.

Bro, you’re delusional if you think you still have a chance with her.  

And then we get to the ubiquitous Big Shareholder Meeting that we see so often in dramas.  I love how Geum Ja is so ballsy in everything she does and she does it all in her comfy tracksuits. Of course the Big Shareholder Meeting does not go as planned and Song Pil Jung gets arrested.

God I love the look on Geum Ja’s face.  It screams “is this guy still talking to me?”

Can I just say, I love how utterly brutal Geum Ja is in her rejection of Kevin Jung.  Woof, ouch.  If I ever heard that from someone I liked, I would be so devastated and embarrassed, I’d find a dark hole to bury myself in and lick my wounds.  But of course, Kevin, like all the other men who fall for Geum Ja, seems to be into it.  It takes a certain type of man to go for Geum Ja and apparently that type is a total masochist who likes getting rejected and their heart ripped out.  I mean, to each their own.

I like whenever they do their power couple strut.

A bro fist bump?  Really?  Hm, I never really fist bumped the guys I dated but that’s cool I guess.  They’re going in to destroy Song Pil Jung so I guess a fist bump is appropriate.

Hm, I don’t know.  It seems like you’re the one who got arrested.

Bro.  Mister.  Are you for real?  Did you forget all the shitty things you did to her?

Yeah, that’s kind of a big deal I think.

SO. SATISFYING.  Whew honey, this exchange gave me life.  My skin has cleared, my bank account is full, and I’ve lost 5 pounds.

Yessss I am all for this nerdy JJH in glasses and turtleneck sipping on expensive instant coffee aesthetic. 

The couple that taunts together, stays together?

Hahahahaha, Hee Jae talking about being professional at work? Hahahahha.

I live for jealous Hee Jae because he’s extra ridiculous whenever he’s jealous.  In this scene he’s getting jealous over Ju-Ho calling Geuma Ja “noona” and it’s like come on, they’re foster siblings.  Let him call her noona.  Side note, Netflix translates “noona” into Eun-Young, Geum Ja’s real name, and it irks me.  Couldn’t they have just translated it into “sis” instead?

Now we’re around the 55 minute mark and I’m thinking, okay this is probably where it’s going to end.  This is when it’s going to happen.  They don’t have that much time left in the episode.  All right, give me us all that we’ve been waiting for.

(Good looking main stays looking good.)

You can’t ever accuse Hee Jae of not being committed to Geum Ja.

We finally get an explanation for why Geum Ja always stared at that huge building

Haha, can you expect anything less from her character?  At this point, I’m looking at the remaining time and thinking, ok then, when’s that kiss gonna happen?

SHRIEKS WHAT ARE THOSE HIDEOUS THINGS ON HIS FEET?!  On another note, I’m sure Kim Hye Soo must be so glad she doesn’t have to wear those gigantic heels anymore.

Omg, ok, this is it.  We’re getting shots of beautiful sexy people strutting and being playful with each other.  They’re setting up for a romantic ending kiss.  Ok, time to prepare myself.

Yes, put your arms around each other.  We’re getting closer now.

Oh, ok.  I guess this will be a far away in the distance kind of kiss.  That’s ok, too I guess.

Oh, wait.  Never mind.  Looks like we’re going to get a frontal view of the ending kiss after all.  Even better!

What?  That’s it?  What?  Did I miss something?  This can’t be.

Oh whew.  An epilogue.  Ok, this is when it’s going to happen.

Hahaha, they’re totally using the vloggers to advertise for their law firm.  I love how Hee Jae has loosened up on what he thinks a proper lawyer should act like and it’s reflected in his more flamboyant wardrobe choices.

These damn fist bumps again.  All the time spent fist bumping could have been spent hugging and kissing.  Priorities, people!

Hah, like hell Hee Jae would ever leave Geum Ja.

Haha knew it.  Boy is more whipped than whipped cream.

This pretty much sums up their dynamic.  SIGH I’m not going to get my kiss am I.

Oh no.  That caption can only mean one thing.

Yeeep.  That’s it.  This is the end.  Finito.  

Well.  All right then.  You know, the first time I watched this episode, I felt very disappointed that there was no final kiss.  I mean the last time we saw them kissing was in episode 8 at the midpoint of the drama.  This drama was clearly a rom com/screwball comedy so it only seemed fitting that there would be one last kiss scene.  That’s how you end a romantic drama!  But alas.

Actually, upon re-watching and re-capping this episode, I realized that even though we did not get any kiss scene, the writers still gave us plenty of sweet moments between Hee Jae and Geum Ja.  We got to see their lovely progression into becoming partners who supported and trusted each other so that was nice.  Even though they’re clearly together now, it’s nice to see that they still have their playful bickering dynamic.  So objectively, it was a nice ending.  I just personally wanted more smooches.

If you made it through this entire post, thank you for expending so much time reading my ramblings and congratultaions on having so much patience!

[sagesilentfire]

I'm looking for a trans sensitivity reader (for Marcie) and possibly a poc sensitivity reader (for the monsters vs mewmans plot), so if you're available, please tell me, and we'll figure something out.

Forgive my inability to draw humans, please.

I know this is a big departure from my usual content, so I'd like to make sure you know that watching SVTFOE is not necessary to enjoy this AU, as everything needed to understand the plot is explained in-story. In fact, I'd love to have someone who's never even heard of a svftoe to read it so I can make sure it makes its own logical sense.

Anyways... 

(putting this under a read more for your scrolling purposes)

Hi. I'm Sage, and I would like to talk about a show I really liked. The past tense being the operative, as it used to be good, but...

I started watching SVTFOE after watching the great Steven Universe, which meant I had high expectations for it. And it met those expectations! From the beginning I was hooked. It was a good show. But as the seasons went on, it started to... rot.

Now, something to know about me is that I do not invest myself wisely. I love the things I love deeply and with passion. I get attached easily, and I love to theorize about the things I love. So I was heartbroken when SVTFOE ended the way it did, with none of my questions answered.

And when my theories were better than canon, well, that meant I had a new project: a complete rewrite of Star vs. the Forces of Evil. This AU will start similar to canon, but gradually diverge from it until it's something completely new. It will also have five separate "seasons".

So here's my AU: Star and Marcie and The Forces Of Evil (aka samatfoe). This AU will tear apart the scraps of lore that we got from SVTFOE and expand on it and make new lore, all narrated by my lovely OC, Sílthéy. And I promise I will get to as much as possible. If you're worried, check the titles of all of the chapters, which will hopefully reassure you that, yes, I will get to everything (or at least everything I've thought of ;)).

Dramatis Personae:

Star: Star will mostly stay the same in the first few seasons, but I'll try to have her actually grow and mature while staying a good person in the later seasons. She'll also be a bit more fire-aligned, because I wanted to be able to tell my Star and the canon Star apart easily. (She also doesn't get those wings until Mewberty.)

Marcie: is a trans girl. The entire second "episode" will be about her being trans. And I will, again, try to not have her act like a jerk in later seasons. She also won't be an adult trapped in a teenager's body, as that was waaay too weird for me. Instead she won't age in the Neverzone, period, and there will be an episode dedicated to her re-adjusting to Earth and discussing what the whole "spent a decade and a half in eight minutes" thing means for her. And, of course, she'll be more involved with the Mewni plot, as she will be interested in learning the lore behind Mewni from the beginning and push Star to find out more about Mewni.

Ludo: Ludo's story will not effectively end with the Battle for Mewni. He will get a redemption arc, with all the pitfalls and trip-ups that come with that. And all of his flaws and issues will be brought up, now just forgiving him for everything he did because he had bad parents. And Dennis will continue to be a cinnamon roll. Some things never change.

Buff Frog/Yvgeny: will not change. He is good lad.

Toffee: This is the big one. Where to start, and how to start it without spoiling everything I have planned? Well, let me tell you this: Toffee is getting a complete overhaul. For one thing, I now made them agender for various complicated reasons that will be revealed in-story, eventually. And for another thing, they will get an actual backstory and personality! Isn't that a novel idea! And they will not die abruptly and nonsensically in Battle for Mewni, so don't worry about that.

Jackie: Oh, Jackie. You poor dear. Jackie will not be delegated to the role of "one-time love interest who just skateboards out of the plot". First of all, Marcie will only have a squish (a platonic crush) on her, because I don't trust my aro/ace self with the weird things people in romantic love do to get together, but I do know what it's like to desperately want to be friends with someone. Secondly, while she will be out of the spotlight in later seasons, it'll be because she's on an exchange trip to France, not because we're abandoning her character and her world for no good reason.

Janna: never changes. Pretty sure she's the one constant of the multiverse.

Tom: will have his redemption arc earlier in the story so I can use him for things, but other than that will not change much.

Moon: First of all, she will not betray everything her daughter stands for by siding with Mina this time. There are plenty of other ways Mina could rise to power, so there's no need to ruin her character by making her do a stupid, illogical thing that even a five-year-old would see was stupid. I mean, she's still going to be kind of racist, but she's well-established to be level-headed and even a little clever, so she will not do something that would so obviously blow up in her face. Secondly, she will be a bad ruler, hence why Mewni is a total mess, but she will learn and become better and help Star's efforts to improve Mewni.

Glossaryck: is... changing. He won't "lose" his sanity for season three, but he will also not be in a totally heroic role. It's a complicated thing and a bit of a spoiler, so I'll leave it at that. Also, he's a dragon now Because Reasons (no, seriously, I have a reason for it. It's also a spoiler).

River: River will be goofy, like usual, but he won't be plot-destroyingly stupid. I'll try my best to not make you question why he's even king while still making him a foil to Moon. It's the tightrope I must walk.

Angie and Raphael: Will not completely disappear from the plot in later seasons, but will instead be like a second family to Star and will be a refuge when her overbearing Butterfly side gets too much.

Kelly: Will not be involved in a stupid romantic subplot with Marcie. Sorry. Other than that, Kelly will remain pretty much the same, aside from now being tiny, because that's just how she came out in my art. She's pretty cool.

Miss Heinous: Will not be Meteora this time around. I disliked how Heinous hurt so many people and was a horrible person, but as soon as her Tragic Backstory™ was revealed, all that pain and suffering she caused was ignored in favor of making her Super Duper Tragic™. So I'm separating the characters. Don't worry, though, she'll get the backstory and character arc she deserves.

Saint Olga: Saint Olga will be the main motivator for Miss Heinous's actions, as she is desperate to please the robot. Other than that, Saint Olga won't actually get much character. She's a bad guy, pure and simple.

Meteora: will not turn into a baby. She will deal with the consequences of her actions like a mature, responsible sixteen-year-old. But because she's sixteen, things won't be too harsh when she does snap. She'll still have her mother and father to help her and guide her.

Eclipsa: Regarding Eclipsa's design, I tried to make her fat, but... I don't know if it translates well in my art. I'm just not that good at art yet. But aside from that, making her cheekmarks dark gray (spades are a black card, not a red card! That bugged me so unreasonably much), and giving her as much of a connection to Toffee as the show implied, I'm not changing much about her. She was one of the good characters.

Globgor: Will have fought against mewmans in the past, but not have eaten them (what were the writers thinking?! Making your metaphorical poc eat people is... not good). And it will be more of a case of Star and Eclipsa knowing he is good and should be released from the crystal, but the general mewman populace not accepting it, until Cornonation, where he proves he's a good guy.

Shinjai: Is a new character I am thrilled to introduce to you all! She came from me thinking that for someone who supposedly wants to end mewman-monster racism, Star sure doesn't have any monster friends (Buff Frog doesn't count. He's an adult, and they don't really hang out so much). So here's Shinjai! She's a septarian, and is introduced instead of Princess Smooshy in Sleep Spells. She's a very minor minor monster noble, and her family has about as much political power as your average worm on a sidewalk after it rains, but all noble monsters must go to Saint Olga's Reform School for Wayward Royalty, so she runs away and gets help from Star and Marcie. She's mostly made to replace Pony Head: she's spunky and... uh, actually she's nothing like Pony Head. She's also unafraid of asking difficult questions and knows more about the plot than she lets on.

Rasticore: is very different from his canon counterpart: he only allies with Heinous and Saint Olga to keep an eye on them for ~someone~, and thoroughly dislikes them, despite agreeing to their mission. He also can regenerate as quickly as Toffee, he just chooses not to for ~reasons~. He also has a mysterious partner, but we all know it's – *gets clubbed over the head by Síthéy*

Mina: Making fun of mental illnesses isn't funny kids. Therefore, Mina is the only neurotypical member of the cast. She does boring neurotypical things like... I dunno, cleaning? And she's still a threat: bigotry and hatred are not exclusive to people with mental illnesses, after all.

Lilacia: Now, Lilacia Pegasus, the horse formerly known as Pony Head, will... exist. She won't be as overwhelmingly annoying, hopefully, as she is in canon. And to make sure she feels consequences for her actions, there will be a subplot in season two about her and Star growing apart as Star grows and leaves Lilacia's annoying party girl antics behind. Lilacia will have to realize that her immature actions are making Star leave her behind, and she'll have to grow as a person because of it.

Then there's a mysterious character who is very mysterious and does mysterious things and has a mysterious personality and is generally mysterious... mysterious. She'll be introduced in the second season and will be as mysterious as promised, I swear.

And finally, of course, it will be narrated by Sílthéy. She will tell this story, and her part in it, for all to hear. Or read? It's a bit of a strange medium, storytelling on paper. Or on a screen, whatever.

Now, of course, by now you must be wondering: What about the shipping? The shipping's the most important part, right? Well, here is my answer: There will be no ship wars. There will be no love dodecahedrons. There will be no cheating, no lies, no throwing other characters under the bus for stupid romantic drama. Why? BECAUSE STAR AND MARCIE ARE BOTH ARO/ACE. Suck on that, Starco! I am the last person to trust romantic drama with, so all of the romantic relationships in this bandwagon will be established, healthy relationships that have decades of chosen love and appreciation for one another behind them. And past!Tomstar and brief, schoolchild-crush-esque Star/Oskar but that doesn't count.

So, I believe that about wraps things up for this post. I'll start posting chapters soon, and will post two chapters every other week, and I'll release the descriptions of them two weeks before I post them. If you have any questions, please ask them! I want to work on my drawing skills, so I might even draw something for them!

Description for next episodes:

Star's Birthday: Star is a young, wild princess who is about to receive her family's most precious heirlooms.

Trouble in Diazland: Star is put under the care of the Diaz family, but can't quite seem to connect with their son, Marco.

And, finally, I have thank yous! These are mostly people I watched but haven't really interacted with yet, so if you get tagged know that you don't know me, I just followed you for svtfoe content. And for, you know, your personality.

Thanks to ankle-beez for being hilarious and reminding me why I made this AU when you relentlessly drag svtfoe. Thank you to @full-moon-phoenix, @dappercritter, and the lizard squad for my regular dose of Toffee. Thank you morningmark and @jess-the-vampire for keeping me invested in svtfoe as a whole. Thanks to svtfoe-critical and @twinklecupcake for good ideas. Thank you to TBlofeld on AO3 for your amazing AU, Monsters, Mewmans, Magic, that, while we took things and ran in completely opposite directions, still inspired me to complete mine. And thank you to Blue Order, whose deeply hilarious and deeply accurate video "How Star Vs the Forces of Evil Fell From Grace" inspired me to create this story in the first place. And, of course, thank you to whoever on the svtfoe wiki writes down the transcripts to every episode. You've helped me so much. I admit that I didn't follow all of your guys' advice, but you did help me get here, every one of you. So thank you.

[sebthesnipe]

Nerves

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 32

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

“Try it again, but loosen your grip on the weaves,” Patton instructed, watching Logan work as they walked. 

The witch lifted his hands, giving a flick of his wrist to try and produce the sparks he had been practicing for the majority of the day. 

“Solanum lycopersicum!” Logan cried as an explosion went off in his hand making him jump. 

Patton paused, assessing the amount of pain that seeped through the bond before deciding it was minimalistic and bursting into laughter. 

The taller man shot him an unamused look as he shook off the blow. 

“What is so funny?” Logan asked flatly, though Patton knew the man wasn’t insulted. 

“It’s just,” Patton breathed, trying to catch his breath. “You’re just so darn cute when you try not to curse!” 

Logan warmed with the feeling of Patton’s affection and despite his attempts at the contrary, couldn’t help but give a small amused smile. 

“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing,” he teased lightly. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Patton replied, giving him a small nudge. “Now, here. Let me help.”

Patton moved to stand in front of his partner, pulling him to a stop as he reached for his hands. Logan didn’t bother resisting as he rested his hand in Patton’s, palms up. Logan’s tanned skin was hidden beneath dark scorch marks and a number of small blisters. 

“Why don’t you weave and I’ll help guide you?” Patton offered, “Try a healing spell.”

Logan glanced up from their hands to look down on  Patton’s sky colored gaze for reassurance. 

“I am not sure that is an advisable course of action,” Logan warned, his worry palpable. “The outcome of my spellwork is a bit unpredictable at the moment. At this range, if something were to-”

“Logan,” Patton chuckled, interrupting. “I’m a dragon.” Patton pursed his lips and produced a small puff of fire for emphasis. The spark instantly disappeared into the air, leaving only a tiny dissipating tendril of black smoke.  “I don’t think you really need to worry about hurting me,” he teased with a wink, finding his concern as endearing as ever.  “Now, start weaving.”

Logan gave a small nod, focusing on his work as he tried to fold the large cords of magic around his hands.

A chittering screeched pierced the air, making the witch jump with surprise. The action caused one of his weaves to loosen. A large cloud of pink burst between the tall witch and his dragon, enveloping the smaller of the two. 

“Oh, no!” Logan gasped, trying to wave away the unnatural fog. “Patton, are you alrig-” Logan froze at the sight before him, eyes wide with horror. “Patton… I am so so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about… it, Lo,” Patton coughed, giving his own wave before Logan’s shock really set in. The dragon’s gaze shot up to his worried eyes. “What? What is it?”

“Y-your hair,” Logan breathed slowly. 

Patton hesitated, reaching up slowly to pinch  one of his curls and pull it down to eye level. Logan tensed, waiting for Patton’s inevitable reaction as he studied the tiny pink lock. 

“Awwwww!!!!” Patton screeched, forcing Logan back a step as he covered his ears against the high pitched squeal. “I love it!” the smaller man added, bouncing in place. “Is it my whole head?!”

“N-no,” Logan admitted, “Hold on, I’m sure there’s a mirror in-” before Logan could reach for the pack on Patton’s shoulder, Virgil scrambled out of the sack, jumping down onto the grassy forest bed. 

“Virgil! Are you alright?” Logan rushed, “I thought I heard you call-”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil reassured, already shifting back to his human form. “We’re close I can feel it! We need to-” the smaller witch swayed, his sudden movements obviously taking their toll. 

“Virgil!” Patton gasped, moving to take his arm. Logan was on his opposite side in an instant. 

“I…” Virgil began, taking a moment to steady himself. “I’m alright. I’m-” he reassured before catching sight of his smallest companion and falling silent. “You’re… Pink?”

“You don’t like it?” Patton frowned, still not moving away.

“No, no!” Virgil rushed to reassure. “I think it looks really… cool.”

Patton preened at the compliment, warming Logan entirely. He couldn’t help but be a bit envious that the look was produced by Virgil and not him, but the sight of the expression was enough. Patton was breathtaking. 

The feel of Logan’s love for the dragon had him glancing back at him, his smile shifting to something softer as they helped Virgil sink down into a seated position. 

“Okay, guys,” Virgil grumbled. “It's really weird being the meat in a dragon-human sandwich so if you don’t mind…”

Patton flushed as he took a hurried step back, giving an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Sorry, Kiddo,” he mumbled, catching Logan’s confused state. 

“I don’t see how you could be the meat in a drag-”

“Just forget it, Lo,” Virgil interrupted, turning away in a fit of coughing. He didn’t have the energy for Logan’s density at the moment. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Patton hurried, his worry only growing with Logan’s. “Do you need some water? How about some food? When was the last time-”

“Patton!” Virgil snapped. “Stop. I’m fine,” he growled, obviously annoyed by the doting nature of the smaller man. 

Patton looked to Logan for reassurance. Logan had been with Virgil far longer than the dragon had. He would know how to handle him. 

Logan and Patton’s eyes met. It had been a little over a day and Virgil was already significantly worse. They had reason to worry. Still, with nothing they could do until they reached Roman, there was no point in riling him any further than necessary. Logan nodded at Patton, signalling for him to listen to the other witch. 

“Right, sorry,” Patton mumbled, backing off. 

“Are you sure it is nearby, Virgil?” Logan asked, his attention still on Patton, to make sure he was alright, as he knelt to check the witch’s temperature. “I didn’t sense anything.”

“Probably because it’s not your magic anymore!” Virgil retorted, the change in tone making him cough once more. ” 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Logan asked with an arched brow. “But with Patton’s level of arcana, even my original cloaking spell shouldn’t-”

“That’s it,” Virgil interrupted, pointing towards a large tree to Logan’s left.  “That has to be it. I can’t believe I almost missed it. -”

Logan straightened, turning towards the tree indicated and moving to examine it.

“”What’s going on?” Patton mumbled, moving to take Logan’s place next to Virgil, helping support him. 

“A travel rune.” Virgil explained. 

“A rune?” Patton asked, moving to take Logan’s place in supporting their friend. “You mean like those little magical stones people use for minor magic?”

“Yes,” Logan sighed softly, circling the tree, hand running over its rough bark. “this particular travel rune is similar to the ones that many witches carry in their pockets.” Logan explained.

“Virgil,” Patton sighed in defeat, turning to the other witch. “I don’t understand.”

“Lo gets this way when he is concentrating,” Virgil explained with a small amused smile, giving Patton a small pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s going to get us to Noname’s by sundown.”

“How though?” Patton asked, turning back to his shaky friend. 

“Those runes that we mentioned,” Virgil explained, “they use the natural magic of the item they are scribed on.” 

“Right,” Patton nodded, “I know that much, but that’s why so many spellcasters use stone, right? Stone is really old, which means it can hold and recharge its own magic. But if you wanted to move yourself from one spot to another, wouldn’t there need to be some kind of connection? Something that touched where you are and where you want to be? A rune can’t do that,” Patton considered it for a moment, “Can it?”

“Got it!” Logan called, his excitement spiking. Patton glanced up as the witch dropped to his knees, reaching an arm into a large knothole. 

“I still don’t understand!,” Patton grunted, annoyed., He watched Logan bury his arm down to the elbow, obviously looking for something.

“These are Pando Aspen trees,” Logan explained absently. “It’s latin for-”

“‘I spread out’,” Patton offered, earning a rush of pride from his partner. The feeling had him grinning, despite Logan’s act of physical reaction.

“Yes,” the witch continued. “They’re a clonal colony.”

“That means they make clones of themselves, apparently,” Virgil offered in a hushed whisper. “At least that’s what Lo told me last time we were here.”

“As such,” Logan went on without pause, “They are known to have a single, all encompassing root system.” 

Patton gave a loud gasp, his hands lifting to his mouth in surprise. “Like a nervous system!” the dragon supplied. 

“Precisely,” Logan nodded. 

“Which would give the spell a physical point of connection,” Virgil offered, obviously wanting to be included. 

“Without the need of a giant rune! That’s brilliant!” Patton cheered excitedly. 

“It was dangerous,” Logan pointed out. “We barely had enough mana between the two of us to keep up alive and I foolishly wasted a good portion of it  to give us a few hours advantage.”

.Patton glanced at their far too pale companion, brows furrowed with worry. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” the smaller man asked, “Not that I don’t believ-”

“You mean ‘cause he practically blew his hands off and turned your hair pink?” Virgil interrupted with an arched brow earning a surprised glance from the dragon. 

“What?” Virgil sighed, giving a shrug. “You really think I could sleep through explosions?” 

“We should be fine,” Logan reassured, “The spell uses the natural flow of trees. All that is required to induce the reaction is an influx of magical energy which we have plenty to spare.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Virgil reassured.

A loud crack echoed as something inside the tree snapped and Logan quickly removed his arm, taking a step back.

The three watched in silence as the bark began to give way, roots twisting upwards to form a small archway, just large enough to crawl through.

“Age before beauty,” Virgil grumbled under his breath, glancing at his other two companions with amusement in his eyes. 

……………………………………………………………….

“Snap out of it, Sleeping Beauty,” Remy ordered, moving to snap their fingers together in front of the Prince’s face.

Roman blinked, his mind slowly drifting back to him, the darkness of the room closing in. Where was he? How long had he been there? Wasn’t he supposed to be… There was someone he needed to… Virgil! Where was Virgil?!

His gaze shot up to meet the pale face of his current torturer.

“There you are, Handsome,” Remy grinned, flashing their pointed teeth. “Took you long enough. Not as sharp as your boyfriend, huh? He never takes this long.” 

“W-what are you talking-”

“Ah,” Remy interrupted, pressing a finger to Roman’s lips. “Best if you keep quiet to save your strength,” they paused for a moment, considering their words. “Or rather, my patience.”

Roman shot them a glare, but didn’t speak. 

“There’s a good pet,” Remy praised, moving to reach for his chains. “Now, I’m going to unchain you, Doll, and I need you to hold yourself up. Can you do that?” 

Roman hesitated, eyeing the baku suspiciously before nodding. 

“That’s a good meat-head,” they cooed softly, before unlocking his shackles. 

The soles of Roman’s boots hit the floor for the first time he had arrived in the chamber and he collapsed under his own weight. 

Remy gave a heavy sigh, arms crossing over their torso as they peered down at him. 

“Guurrll, We do not have time for this,” they huffed as they waited for the prince to straighten. “You’re going to have to get that perfectly toned ass of yours off the floor because I gave my word to that conceded, better-than-thou badger that I’d help get you out of here!” 

Roman glanced up at the words, swaying slightly as he brought himself up on his hands and knees.  

“Y-you… Y-you talked to Virgil?” he managed weakly. “Is he alright? Is he safe? Did he find Logan?” he rushed, crawling until he felt the hard lines of a nearby wall and hoisted himself up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy dismissed. “He’s fine… Except the dying part.”

“What?!” If Roman’s knees weren’t already weak, the news would have them buckling beneath it. “No! You’re lying!” 

“I wish I was, Doll.”

“No!” Roman yelled at them once more. “This is another one of your tricks! Another torture method!” 

“Keep your voice down!” Remy hissed, “Or I’ll rip out your tongue!”

Roman’s glare intensified. 

“Do your worst!” he started “I’ll never-” 

Remy lifted a hand, giving a quick twist of their wrist, Roman’s voice suddenly giving out on him. He tried to cry out again, the only sound that managed to escape was a small croak. 

“That is enough!” Remy snapped, striding over to the weak prince, heels clicking against the stone floor. They reached out to take his chin, forcing his gaze to lift, just barely making out Remy’s pale face. “I hope those ear muscles are as toned as the rest of them because you need to listen and listen good, Doll. I’m about to catch you up to speed, just try and keep up,” the baku hissed, grip tightening painfully as Roman tried to pull away. “This diva would be more than content to feed off you until you lost that very attractive head of yours,” they growled. “But my best bitch is dying and he apparently believes you can save him.” Remy gave a pointed once over before clicking their tongue in disapproval. “Now, being the saint that I am, I have decided to help you. So, I’m going to give you your voice back and you’re going to keep your trap shut, got it?” 

It took a moment for Roman’s sluggish sleep deprived brain to catch up.

“Do. You. Under. Stand?” Remy growled, finally earning a slight nod. “Good.” Remy gave another snap of their fingers, undoing whatever it was they had done to the prince and causing him to give a stuttering cough. 

“We’ve got to get you above ground and there are plenty of guards between here and there,” Remy explained. “I can get you past most of them but I won’t have enough juice to go much further.”

“So, I’ll be on my own from there,” Roman nodded. 

“Guurl, what did I say about keeping those pretty lips closed,” Remy scoffed, but made no retaliation. “But yes. I can pretty much draw you a map from wherever we end up, but you’re S.O.L. Got it?”

Roman gave another nod, thankful when the baku finally let go. 

“Good. Now, now pull yourself together because I am not carrying your ass, no matter how cute it is!”

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[sastielcreationschallenge]

🎅 Merry Christmas @elendraug 🎁

NIGHT MOVES

Everything Sam is pauses the second he limps into his bedroom. Voices, light and life meet him rather than the dark silence of his on any other night empty retreat between four walls. What he hasn't been able to call home feels different tonight, because Castiel has taken him up on his invitation. His bedroom has become more somehow. From the glow of the switched-on television to the being so wrapped in whatever is on Netflix that he's failed to notice his arrival. 

Sam can't help but smile in fondness of his dearest friend. For an angel he's never looked more human… almost fragile even. Maybe it is because he's ditched his trench coat? Or the mess he's made of his bed, lounging on his blankets as if he belongs, crumpled suit and all? It can also be the way his eyes are glistening with emotions. Normally so vivid blue irises are holding so much grief within them that Sam knows Castiel hasn't healed yet, far from it. That he needs time to forget the horrors he's been through… the loss too of a dear friend, of the angel Hannah.

Of course, Sam knows that if it comes down to it Castiel is stronger than anyone else. Though his powers are not as mind-blowing strong anymore as before Sam is often reminded of the soldier in the core of his being. For what he believes in Castiel will upturn Heaven, Earth and even Hell if need be. Out of love too he will go to the end of the world… and beyond. This Sam admires about him more than any other trait. No one else is more loyal to them or their cause. That is why it hurts Sam to watch him suffer each time when Heaven or his brothers dismiss him… for choosing the side of humanity or whatever other stupid, narrow-minded reason they have to deny him the freedom of making his own choices. Why does Castiel have to lose so much?  

Unwilling to add onto the pain Sam decides to leave Castiel be and crash somewhere else, since there are plenty of guest bedrooms in the bunker. What right does he even have to ask to be healed? None, not in his eyes. His hand is still on the door handle, and on his next breath Sam sets out to close it back behind him… except that his stupid body doesn't quite respond like it does when not battered. By far too well does it remember how it got thrown, right side first, against a wall. As a result, Sam stumbles more than that he takes a step back into the hallway. Pure anguish shoots up into his leg and hip, and he all but falls… into unexpected waiting arms of support.

"Sam!"  

Blood trickles in his right eye, from the re-opened cuts on his face, when he meets the full-on look of care, etched by worry and far too knowing scrutiny. "You shouldn't have to…"

Cool fingers come to rest against his forehead while the flash of blue intensifies, merciless in their emotions for him. Castiel won't take no for an answer. "You are hurt. I can help… allow me, Sam. At least then I am less of a hindrance or a failure."

Sam shakes his head. "You are neither… not to me, or us."

Castiel still doesn't yield, but his wry smile of disbelief eases the frown of concern and it too tears down whatever protest Sam may have left to give. In the face of such want he falters… because that desire to help others is one he knows only too well himself. Castiel needs purpose rather than to wallow in what can't be changed. Time to heal… friends to stand by him too. And that Sam can give him. "All right." He relents with a nod. "If it's not too much to ask for, maybe you can help Dean as well?"

"Of course, but one brother at the time."  

Even as Castiel speaks his eyes shift to light up with his angelic grace, a healing power which never fails to take Sam's breath away. It rushes through his skin and bones unlike anything else can. Wounds seal closed, muscles uncoil, and his bruises ease away until he feels almost whole again… except that he's still bone deep tired. So exhausted in fact that he can't find it within him to fight the hands and arms which help him to ditch his boots and flannels. Sam can only stumble towards the bed and for a change let someone other than his brother tuck him in safe and sound.

*****

For a breath Sam isn't sure of where he wakes up. His brain is slow to take in his surroundings, because it recognizes that there's no need for fear and so it doesn't hurry to connect the dots. In fact, he's not felt quite so comfortable in a while and it's been ages ago since he has slept so well, without nightmares or restless thoughts to wake him well before dawn. Though he is a morning person, Sam is almost reluctant today to let go of the peace. His by hunting sharpened senses however are ahead of him…

Sam can tell now that his television is still turned on, the sound low like distant whispers. The light by the bed seems to attempt to pry open his closed eyelids. Instead he burrows his head deeper into the pillow… or rather, a clothed thigh of warm flesh… a person, whom he is drooling on if he's not mistaken. At once feeling the awkwardness of his position rise tenfold Sam shoots awake to make sense of the why and how. But rather than be allowed up Castiel presses a warm palm against his flank to urge him to stay and settle him down, back on his thigh.  

"No need. You are safe, so sleep…", Castiel says.

Incredulous, he looks up at the angel. "What?"

"Dean said to let you have a lie in, and I wanted to make sure you did indeed, sleep."

Sam can't help but blink under the gaze of pure innocence. So often in the past Dean has grumbled about Castiel not understanding the concept of personal space. Of how humans needed some privacy and it was damned well creepy if someone watched over them in quite such a literal manner. But Sam? He can't help but blush, because this… waking up next to another person is something he missed without knowing. Ached for in body and soul. And even though maybe someone damaged and tainted like him should not have this, Sam doesn't want to move away from Castiel and his comfortable presence.

"You are thinking too loud… not unlike myself." Castiel blurts out before Sam can speak. "Perhaps I should watch television, like you said, but I find myself too distracted by thoughts…. memories of what that spell did to me. Losing Hannah was my fault…"

"Don't…" Sam looks up at him to meet with tear filled eyes. "I am sure it wasn't. Those angels made their own choices, as do we all."

"But she deserved better."

"I am sure she did." Sam sighs, because he understands the pain too well. Losing people who were so much better than he can ever be himself… it hurts beyond reason. Grief too is tangible in Castiel. Part of Sam wants to reach up, kiss him and maybe hold him, but he's not that brave and he feels far too afraid to lose a friend over wanting, feeling so much more than he should. "Fate can be a cruel mistress, but Cas, you will remember Hannah as she was and so she isn't lost for nothing. She has touched you, maybe even made you a better person?"

Fingers card into his hair, absent-minded, because Castiel looks to be far away. Maybe not even in the same room as he is anymore. Sam though can feel how his fingers are brushing over his scalp as the angel plays with the mess of his long locks fanned out over his thigh. His heart leaps with emotions, can't not, under the touch of such comfort and closeness. A soft moan escapes from his lips and somehow it's enough to return Castiel to him. Blue irises now twinkle brighter, less painfully so, when the angel meets his patient gaze. "I am not sure of anything. I feel that I should be out there, helping you deal with the Darkness, but I don't know how to."

"By healing first. The spell Rowena cast on you did a real number on your essence and there is no shame in needing time to recover. If we need you we call, you know. Still, Dean needs to fix the Impala first, because he refuses to drive us anywhere without her. So you may be stuck with us for a while."

Castiel grins at that, while to Sam's reluctance he pulls back his hand of comfort. "Dean was rather proud of his car. Said she brought you home to me and that it is a shame my 'mojo' is worthless on her."

Sam can't help but grin at the quotation marks Castiel arches with his fingers in the air. It's almost absurd how he's picked up on some of Dean's mannerisms and expressions, but it too fits their angelic friend somehow, because it speaks of his love without saying the actual words. "Whatever… your grace served my body more than well. Thanks, Cas", he says with a smile of gratitude, because hell yeah… he does feel a lot better today than he's done in a while.  

"Always." Castiel too smiles, but his attention also drifts back to the television, his new source of distraction. After a few long seconds he belatedly asks, "Would you mind if I stay… if we share your bed?"

Sam smiles at that, closing his eyes to extend the morning cuddle under the cover of a rare sleep in. "I believe we already are."

*****

Though breakfast and a late morning jog pull Sam from his bedroom for a while he returns there with a pile of books in his arms. Under the guise of doing research he settles at his desk. Sam isn't sure of why he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts even when he isn't willing to speak of them or have someone else interrupt them. Truth is, he's lost on what they are. Can it be that God is sending him a message? He's almost afraid to ask Castiel… and so, for now, he doesn't speak of it.  

Instead Sam turns to the lore, at least for a while. The sound of the television and the soft murmurs of comments about what's so illogical about human characters from Castiel form a soothing background to his restless mood. Every now and then Sam glances at his bedroom visitor, who's appearance seems to get messier with the hour. After his trench coat he has now ditched his suit jacket too. His white dress shirt crumples up further around his chest, exposing the good shape his human vessel is in even through the thin fabric. Fuck, but the sight is almost tempting Sam to touch.

No, he can't! Shouldn't give in to the crazy ass emotions he's been feeling for a while. They are friends, if even that, but nothing more. The life of hunters and angels alike is too dangerous to risk the loss of friendship. Dean too needs Castiel, depends on him, though he is too proud to say it. Sam won't risk a fall out, can't… and so rather than touch he reaches for his sketchbook and pencil. If he works silently the angel won't know and he'll continue watching the television. Sam can keep his artistic side to himself, like he's always done since he was a boy…

Finding an empty page, Sam draws a first hesitant line. More curves and angles follow suit until he has created a vague human shape. Eyes, nose, mouth… and he now looks a little more familiar to him. Hmm, the lips need to be fuller, more waiting to be kissed. Sam touches onto the lines, wider and bolder, and onwards, further down the body of his subject, his angel on the bed. The collar and crooked tie, a line of buttons of which a few are held on a precarious edge as if waiting to break free and expose Castiel before him.

What if the shirt was gone? Sam swallows down the rise of more sinful thoughts. Shifting in his chair, he denies his want in favour of drawing on and shaping his version of reality from what is there before him, taking a few liberties with it. In his world of pencil, the buttons are indeed open. Suit trousers too are half undone, those thick thighs and long legs not exposed, but begging to be. Fuck, but now that Sam is looking so much closer, he can't deny how handsome Castiel is to him. For so long he's kept his distance and he knows that he ought to keep it still, but at least with the pencil he can speak of what he won't in person.

Time ticks him by unseen, because Sam draws in further to his sketch and he shuts out the real world. Each line becomes more detailed now. His pencil drawn angel now too leans against the pillows, sensual and a picture far less pristine than the one in reality. Still… in both worlds his bed, the bedsheets and blankets are a mess. The real Castiel looks comfortable, more so than Sam has ever seen him. Sure, sorrow too clings to him, but it is the nature of who they are and the hard life they are leading. In here though… inside of his bedroom… they can escape their burdens for a while. Is the bunker home? Sam can almost learn to accept that maybe it can be. It feels like for today it is.

"Sam?"

The gentle press of a hand curling soft around his left shoulder startles Sam from the paper and onto the object of his fascination. Blushing, he looks up at Castiel, who has moved without a sound. Now standing right next to him, the angel looks past him and at the sketch. "It's not…", Sam stammers. What if Castiel hates it? He can't think beyond how obvious his work is in exposing how he feels about him.

Too stunned to hide his sketch away Sam watches as Castiel wraps the long fingers of his other hand around the sketchbook to pick it up. "So many years and you still manage to amaze me." Castiel breaks through his tension with a deep voice of awe. His wide eyes stay glued onto his drawn self, glistening with unshed pain and soon changing towards something far softer, like unfathomable emotions of pure intensity. "Sam… Is this how you see me?"

Shaking his head, Sam reaches out to his sketchbook to steal it back and maybe go run. "Forget it, Cas, please… I…" His heart beats almost too fast. He can't think beyond how his secret is out, because of how he took artistic liberties with their reality.

"I thought it was only I who felt more than friendship…" Castiel denies him the retreat in favour of holding onto his shoulder a little tighter. Resting aside his sketch book with a parting brush of his thumb, he adds, "… when maybe all along you felt it too…"  

Sam blinks when Castiel leans down to him, closing the distance slowly. Eyes narrow into his. More so than anything else there lies a blunt wonder in them now… a plea almost for him to understand and answer something for them both. Lost into the deep gaze of love Sam refuses to look away. He can only nod, feels what is coming before at last nothing remains between them. One breath shared and he too moves to shut up the voice of longing. Can he have him after all?

*****

The first touch of their lips clashing together ends all doubts Sam had. Castiel tastes of the chocolate chip cookies they'd shared and something unearthly. His lips feel warm, soft and oh so pliant against his too. Sam lets out a gasp of pleasure, and he steals a second kiss, because the first one wasn't enough. He has to have more of feels so right. To his joy Castiel answers his response in kind, teasing the tip of his tongue over his lips until Sam opens for him.

Who needs air? Sam continues kissing his angel while fingers curl around the nape of his neck to keep them linked. Want silences everything else. Around him the world can explode and for once he wouldn't care, because he can die happy while being kissed breathless. Sam can't help but want Castiel closer though and so he pulls the angel down into his lap.  

Inevitably he must break away and come up for air. Reluctant to part with Castiel for longer than his lungs need him to Sam rests his forehead against the angel. Panting, he looks at him, from his by lust blown pupils to kiss swollen lips. More so than before his appearance is ruffled… and Sam takes pride in it. Can't help but smile in his fondness of the being in his lap. He takes too much joy as well in those hands clinging to his flank and neck so that they won't have to part. "Cas… how long?"

Castiel shrugs. "I am unsure, but last night, as you slept… I was tempted to act on it."

"I see…" But does he? Even now when they've kissed Sam can't help but feel insecure about what he wants and how he feels. What he does know though is that he is afraid of losing Castiel without knowing his touch or kiss. Isn't it better to have and lose than to live in fear? Maybe he should take a page out of Dean's book. Live in the now… own the bubble of peace which has bewitched his bedroom. "Cas…"  

Sam can't say anything more, because lips reclaim his mouth with more sureness than he's seen since he first came back to the bunker. Helpless under the passionate assault of tender kisses and licks he answers each one best as he can. Fuck, but had he known Castiel could kiss like this he'd wanted it even sooner!

Unable to keep his hands away from Castiel he pries open the once straining buttons of his white dress shirt. Sam doesn't bother with the blue striped tie, instead he moves past it to map out the now naked chest with both of his hands until his fingers find a nipple to play with. Pinching it, he smiles when the angel in his lap arches towards his touch and he moans into his mouth as if a plea for more. Encouraged by the low, beautiful sounds Castiel is making Sam pulls him closer.  

They break again for air, but Sam doesn't stop teasing naked skin where he can reach. Castiel too sneaks his fingers under his flannel and shirt to brush them over his spine and play with the dip of skin above his ass cheeks. Always teasing… but before Sam can ask for more Castiel retakes his voice by kissing him hard, as if there is no tomorrow…

"Sammy!" At the shout of his name, coming from afar, reality pierces into the bubble of their heated moment. Dean stomps through the hallways of the bunker in confident strides, the sound of him drifting towards them. "Baby is ready to go and so am I. Dude, are you still in bed?"

Wide eyed Sam breaks from the kiss with a groan of frustration. Why now? Castiel too looks as lost and regretful as he does. "Cas… I…"

"You have to go." The angel slips from his lap, hurrying to do up the buttons of his shirt and looking adorable still to Sam while doing so. "When we don't know what this is… what we want… it is too soon for us to tell him, yes?"

"Yes." Sam rises too to help Castiel straighten his tie and tame his messy bed hair a little into something more presentable, less 'I got molested by your little brother'. Before he can stop himself short Sam presses a chaste kiss onto the warm lips, which he already misses far more than he should. Blushing, he asks, "Can we finish this later?"

"When you come home", Castiel answers with a wry smile. "I will be here."

Sam finishes in time to hide his arousal under his flannel when Dean all but storms into his bedroom. "I've found us a case. A milk run… werewolves by the sound of it, not far from here. Are you coming?"

"Sure." Sam goes after Dean, who rushes off as fast as he'd entered. At the door though he pauses to see Castiel reclaim his bed and television. The bubble they've shared but minutes ago lies in tatters, not forgotten, but irretrievable all the same. Sam offers Castiel a wistful smile, mouthing a 'later' and leaving with a lighter heart somehow. Even with their insane lives they can always create another moment, right?

[simplyplain42]

The Dance of Soulmates

My Hero Academia. Soulmate AU. Bakugo x Reader.

Summary: You finally get to meet your soul mate as the words tattooed on your wirst are finally said. But what happens if the fiery blond your bonded to refuses to admit you are his soulmate?

The Dance of Soulmates

People say your life starts twice. Once when you are born into the world naked and crying. The second is when you meet your soulmate. If you ever have the chance to.

You were lucky enough to have that chance.

“Hey dipshit, you’re in my seat.”

Those six words rang in your head like an alarm clock waking you up to your second life. You could only hope those words were from your soulmate and not a mishap of occurrence that many have suffered.

You arched your brow and casually glanced over your shoulder. Even if those words were printed on your wrist since you were an infant, you weren’t going to take the rudeness.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see asshat written on it.” You replied coolly with a nonchalant voice.

You caught his brief surprise. The fraction of his eyes widened at your response as recognition sank in, but he did not flinch to check his own wrist.

Instead, the blond boy standing behind you remained standing defensively. His heavy glare not once lifting from you.  

You fought a smirk that was creeping its way onto your lips. You always wondered how this situation would go and what kind of tone would be set. You didn’t want to create a bad first impression on your soulmate, but you weren’t sure of his personality yet. So far, you could tell he had a vulgar mouth and intimidating face.

You tilted your head at him about to say something else when the teacher arrived, cutting your interaction with your soulmate off.

You stepped away from the blond boy’s desk that you were leaning on when you were talking to your childhood friend, Jiro. You made your way to the front of the class as you were introduced to everyone as a transfer student and then assigned an empty seat.

All throughout the class, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of someone’s eyes on you. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was distracting. You didn’t dare peek at the person, because you already had a feeling who it was.

When class was over, you expected the spicy blond to approach you, but he didn’t. He shot you plenty of looks in class, but he apparently wasn’t interested in talking to you. You would have been lying to say that didn’t hurt, but you were a big kid now and training to be a hero. You could deal with a little pain and if your soulmate wanted nothing to do with you, then so be it.

You knew there were some soulmates that grew up never wanting to try a relationship because they felt undeserving, they were too damage, they had different goals, or didn’t want a relationship. Your soulmate had his reasons, but you weren’t going to jump all over him just to find out why.

You stuck to your own routine and made the best out of this new situation. At least you already had one friend here, Jiro, so you stuck close to her as much as you could and slyly learned about your soulmate Bakugo.

After a week, you were starting to get comfortable and you had made new friends along the way. Almost instantly you got to know Mina, Sero, and Kirishima. They were such friendly and nice people that you started hanging around them and unintentionally being around your soulmate more.

Although, you sat with Jiro at lunch, you chit chatted with the other three between classes, in the dormitories, and even during study time. It was during study time, that you had your next interaction with Bakugo.

He placed his books roughly down on the table, jolting the four of you to look up at his presence. He looked gruff as he sat down beside you, only connecting eyes with his three friends across from you.

“Hey Bakugo, what’s up?” Kirishima greeted with a smile.

“Nothing. Came to study with you morons.”  

“Really? You always preferred to study alone.” Sero mentioned surprised.

“Yea, you always said we’re too loud.” Mina said.

You noticed Bakugo’s temple beginning to throb. “I figure you losers could use the damn help, but if this is going to turn into a f’n investigation, I’m f’n out.” He challenged.

Immediately Kirishima put his hands up. “Nah, its cool. Let’s get to it.”

So, the four of you studied together. Bakugo was typically silent unless the answer his three friends were debating was absolutely wrong. He was constantly looking down at his textbook and glaring, but he would turn his red eyes onto you when you started talking. 

You caught where his eyes roamed a few times. Mostly over your face but also a couple times over your wrist where the tattoo of your soulmate’s words were written. You knew he was getting confirmation to see if you were his match, and you only wondered what he was going to do once he knew.

You found out two days later.

The hero’s class was out in the training grounds to practice with their quirks. Aizawa didn’t care if the students wanted to pair off to train or work by themselves. You were just stretching out your limbs when the hot-head blond boy came marching up to you.

“You wanna train together?” He asked curtly. His face set in that natural pissed off look, like the world is full of shit.

You easily nodded, interested to see where this would go. Plus, you were curious how well he handled his quirk. You heard from class what his quirk was and that he had won the Sports Festival his first year here. You knew he had to be impressive.

The two of you stocked off to a secluded court. Both of you stood facing each other, waiting.

“Are we going to stare at each other all day?” You amused.

His intense gaze narrowed more in annoyance. “No.” he answered shortly, taking his hands out of his pockets, stretching his fingers. “What’s your damn quirk anyway?”

You smiled before demonstrating quickly. Your image flashed in front of his eyes twice before you were suddenly behind him. “I’m a space jumper.”

He turned quickly. There was a hint of surprise on his face. He took a step back as he reassessed you. “I’m assuming you have a limited range of distance that you can teleport.”

“You’re quick, aren’t you?” You teased. “I’m not giving up my secrets before we spar.”

A slight blush rose on his cheeks at your flirty tone. “Fine, let’s go then.”

Instantly, you two began sparring. You stayed clear of his hands as he used them to catch up to your person as you teleported repeatedly out of his jabs and attacks. You landed two blows from behind him, but your punches were not as strong as what he was used to taking. They didn’t seem to slow him down.

The two of you continued on for several minutes until finally Bakugo got the best of you. He ducked as you sprang up behind him and he whipped out his leg to trip you. You fell to the blacktop with a thud and not a moment later, Bakugo’s hand was on your neck. His grip was not tight, but light and slightly damp from his sweat.

He was glaring at you still, but it was lighter than before.

“Checkmate, unless you can teleport while touching someone else.” He mentioned breathing hard from his nose at the exercise.

“I can’t,” you admitted out of breath too.

He smirked at his victory for a second as he extracted his hand from you. While doing so, you were able to see the words tattooed on his own wrist. Confirming, your hunch was right.

Bakugo noticed your gaze and sat back on his butt. You sat up with a smile on you face as you met his eyes that were fishing for yours.

“Guess your mine now.” He mentioned.

You chuckled. “Don’t you have to ask me first?”

His glare returned harder, before huffing. “Do you wanna be mine?”

You scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand. “Yes.”

His lips twitched up once more as his frown disappeared. His hand closing around yours.

“Good.”

[m0ssbeard]

I Ran From You

The weather was still overwhelmingly hot, and the volcanic Hold of Hotlands was to blame...which was convenient, as the folks of Ebott Province quite liked to blame most of their woes on Hotlands. Who wouldn't? It was, by far, the worst of the Holds. Ashen, barren and volcanic... Apparently the mining industry was doing well over there, but Dyrus had no intention of going. He wasn't hurting for G anyway.

It was too fucking hot already in New New Home, he didn't even want to think about what it would feel like walking the dry and dreary roads of New Hotlands. In fact, just thinking about it made him want to curl up and die a little…. And that’s why he didn’t get out of bed for at least a few more hours. The Inns here were pretty nice, and though air conditioning definitely hadn’t been invited yet, magic had a way of cooling the place down. Dyrus suspected there was ice magic in the vents… it was so strangely similar to air conditioning that the moss-covered skeleton guessed an Outsider from Murkwater had something to do with this. It would be foolish to assume he was the only Outsider wandering around New New Home, after all. 

Still, even with the cool air blowing gently onto him, Dyrus felt weak and heavy… probably heat stroke, he figured, but the fact it had lasted nearly eight hours definitely concerned him. He never really suffered heat stroke before--it’s not like he had skin or organs. In fact, heat wasn’t something that usually bothered him so. His soul was a core of fire, and he had harnessed the flame years ago. 

And yet… here he was, succumbing to heat stroke… if that’s what it was at all. A thought crossed his mind, and he touched at his mossy beard, sighing. ...The Necromancer had told him he was going to die, that the moss that grew on his bones was killing him, and there was no way to stop it.  It had been the most bleak news he could have heard, yet a part of him knew it was the case long before anyone had told him. He knew that a person like him… couldn’t have a happy, peaceful ending. No amount of running would hide his sins, hide the pain he caused so many. 

He deserved to die in silent agony.

Dyrus’ thoughts were interrupted by shouting coming from outside--specifically, the marketplace. It was loud, and crude…almost like a sailor cussing up a storm. He could have sworn he heard the word “cocksucker” being thrown around. That was oddly specific, but not impossible. The old soldier stood up, pulling his gloves and boots on before heading outside to see what all the fuss was about.

What he found was something impossible. At a dried meat vendor in the market was a skeleton wearing black armor and a red, torn scarf. His bones were dark, like caramel, and he wore black jeans with knee-high red boots. He thrust his finger forward at the vendor, shrieking at him in a threatening, dangerous tone, “FORTY PIECES OF GOLD? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FOR ONE FUCKING SLAB OF JERKY? THAT’S FUCKIN’ ROBBERY!!!”

Dyrus stared in disbelief as his legs and arms refused to respond, causing him to stand in the crowd like an idiot with his good eye wide. That was… Fiend. That was himself from years ago. What was going on here? How…? The vendor looked terrified, and a crowd had gathered around… they could DEFINITELY see him. This was real.

“These are qu-quality meats, S-Sir.” 

“I’LL SHOW YOU QUALITY WHEN I RIP OUT YOUR STOMACH AND TURN IT INTO A PURSE, COCKSUCKER!!!”

That was definitely Fiend. The caramel boned skeleton seemed enraged, drawing out a blood orange bone blade made entirely of magic--the crowd gasped and someone screamed, which was enough to break Dyrus out of his stupor. The time to gawk was over, he had to do something. If he was more of a man than he used to be, he could easily save innocent people from himself.

Dyrus broke out of the crowd, running towards Fiend. He thrust out his hand, grabbing the younger by the neck and yanking him backwards. 

“WHAT THE FUCK--OW!!! HEY!?!?” Fiend snarled, his weapon dispelling immediately as he was dragged with ease through the streets, Dyrus bringing him down an alley into the less wealthy quarter. He didn’t want anyone to make the connection that these two were related to one another in any way. Finally, with the coast more or less clear, Dyrus slammed Fiend against the nearest wall, snarling hot breath and smoke into his face.

“You shame yourself with such acts.”

Fiend coughed and waved away the smoke, a shit eating grin on his face, but it was clear that he was pissed, a bright red eyelight in his left socket. “NICE BEARD, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ATE OUT A DRYAD.”

Ignore his comments, just keep him away from everyone else. “Shut up.”

“OR WHAT, COCKSUCKER? GONNA EAT ME OUT TOO???” Fiend laughed, a nasty growlish cackling, before he brought his knee up, slamming it into Dyrus’ stomach--it probably hurt the younger more than the older, but it at least caused Dyrus to back off, if only a little. 

“You dishonor yourself behaving the way you are. You’re no better than a bandit.” It sickened him to look at the other, still trying to hide the shock from just seeing Fiend here… both eyes intact, no beard, no moss whatsoever. It was like a ghost right out of his past, untouched by years of experience, but not of failure. Oh no, Fiend knew of failure. Plenty of it. Fiend stepped forward, giving the finger before dragging a bright red and orange, dripping ecto tongue along the digit, “WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT HONOR? RATHER BE A BANDIT THAN GET FUCKED BY THE SYSTEM HERE. HE WAS TRYING TO ROB ME. EVERY OTHER COCKSUCKER THERE DIDN’T HAVE TO PAY AS MUCH!!”

Dyrus stood his ground, not in the least bit unnerved by the other. Ever since the Incident last year, where the Necromancer had summoned every skeleton in Ebott to go to Hotlands, and cause them to go berserk… well. People hadn’t fully put away their fears and bitterness. Monsters were monsters and yet, they distrusted their own kind, setting skeletons apart from them. 

Stigma and discrimination were everywhere, even among monsterkind. Dyrus knew that, and of course he hated it, but attacking people wouldn’t solve shit. It was selfish to think that was all it took. “I know it’s unfair, but you need to put a lid on your temper. I won’t let you hurt anyone for any reason, and especially not for fun.”

That seemed to knock the smile off Fiend’s face, and it was his turn to growl, “WHO’S DOING ANYTHING FOR FUN? I WAS JUST TRYING TO GET SOMETHING FOR THE KID TO EAT!!!”

The kid?

Fiend gestured to the right, and Dyrus turned--he felt like his soul was drained from his bones as he gazed upon… himself. This wasn’t Fiend, nor Dyrus. No, this was a child, a nine-year-old skeleton wearing a scrappy orange t-shirt and roughed up brown shorts. His bones were an off-white color, and his jaw was too big for him to close properly. There was a bandage around his skull, hiding some fractures underneath. The kid looked away, rubbing his arm. 

“...I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE GONNA THREATEN THE GUY…” the child muttered, though still loud enough with that growlish voice. 

“Beartrap…” Dyrus found himself speaking, unable to help himself. At the utterance of the name, the child’s gaze snapped up.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!!! I HATE IT WHEN THEY CALL ME THAT!!!” He balled his fists and maintained his ground, trying not to look scared, but most certainly bothered.

Fiend laughed, “WHAT, BEAR TRAP??? I DUNNO, IT’S A FUCKIN’ SICK NAME, KID. OWN IT!!!” 

This was… surreal. What was happening…? How could these ghosts be here?

He’d run so far, and yet his past caught up with him. It always found a way. 

[tiny-maus-boots]

Wild West AU ch 13

A/N: Many many many thanks to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup who listens to me bitch about writing, betas my work, pats my head and tells me my words are pretty and then posts on ao3 for me so I don’t delete my work immediately after posting. She’s amazing and I love her. 

Aubrey

She didn’t want to leave Stacie behind but she didn’t dare look back at the other woman. One sight of Stacie standing alone on the bluff would keep her from doing what must be done. Aubrey sucked in a deep breath and slid through the narrow fissure into the dark cool interior of the mountain. She could hear the sounds of people laughing and talking, even the faint sound of someone playing a fiddle, but she couldn’t see them and the ledge was far too narrow for her to lean over. She only had one option really, to climb down into the mess hall and search for Kat and Emmy.

Carefully and as quietly as she could she eased down the ladder and peeked around the edge of the wall. Plenty of Jesse’s boys were sitting around drinking, completely unaware of what rode their way. If they knew, if they had even the hint of suspicion they would all be armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. Aubrey hummed softly to herself as she considered how helpful that may be for their retreat. A thick, hairy paw landed on her shoulder and instinct took over.

Aubrey whirled and yanked the body close to her, close enough to bring her elbow into the face of the man that dared grab her. The pained squeal he let out was too loud and too obvious and she kicked at his knee to drop him enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck in a choke hold Avery had used on her far too many times as children. “Shhhhhh. Sleep.”

She waited until she felt the weight of his body sag against her before she released him and pushed him away roughly. It was just another nameless man on Jesse’s team but one she didn’t need touching her. Cautiously she slipped out of the shadow and crept around the edge of the mess until she reached the cook area. With a sigh of relief at not being seen she ducked into the alcove and grabbed a gunny sack from the work table.

“Aubrey? What are…oh Lord. Who’s dead?” Kat’s voice lowered as she spoke, trying to keep secret any bad news she expected.

Aubrey swallowed hard and shook her head. “No one yet. But a whole heap of us any minute if I don’t get you and Emmy out of here right now.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“Mama! Mama they have him! I know they do!”

Before she could explain Emily came careening around the corner into the small room, nearly colliding with Katherine in her haste. They both turned to her confused and alarmed by the trail of tears sliding down Emily’s face. “Who baby, who has…oh no…”

The question didn’t need an answer. They knew who Emily meant. Her Deputy Benji was the only ‘him’ that Emmy ever spoke of. And the only other person that could cause this much distress in the younger Junk woman. Aubrey slapped her hand down on the table and shook her head in frustration. He wasn’t important to them now. Not now that the plan was underway and he’d given them all the information they had ever asked him for, but he was theirs, for better or worse and they couldn’t let him rot in Penitence. Especially when he was so important to Emily.

“The Army is a little more than a league out by my best guess. There’s no time to waste, I need to get you two out of here and we’ll worry about the good Deputy later.”

Emily’s back straightened even as she clung to her mother and she turned her gaze on Aubrey. It was fierce and determined and despite the fact that she wasn’t going to allow Emmy a say in things, she was proud of her grit none the less.

“I’m not leaving without Benji.”

“Emmy…” Kat tried to console her daughter but Emily was having none of it.

“No! I’ll be damned if I let that sonofabitch Sheriff hurt him so if you don’t want to help me fine! But I’m not leaving without him.”

Aubrey’s lips twitched with the effort not to smile at Emily cursing and dropped her head to hide her face. She couldn’t even find fault with that kind of loyalty because it was the same thing that bound her to Stacie. And the same kind of love and loyalty that bound them to Chloe and Beca. She’d die before she let any of them suffer at the hands of the Sheriff. Or her brother. It was a sobering enough thought and she nodded quickly.

“Alright Em…alright. We’ll get him but not this second. First we run. Then we fight.” Kat gave Emily a reassuring squeeze and the younger woman nodded hesitantly.

Aubrey reached out and gripped her shoulder trying to convey sincerity of her words. “We won’t leave him behind. I promise. But we aren’t any good to him dead or caught ourselves.”

When she was sure she wouldn’t get any more guff she peeked back out to the mess and nodded. It looked as if no one were the wiser. Kat moved in close, standing at her shoulder eyeing the people littered about the room. “Not all of them are Swansons. Not that any of them are innocent, we’re all hiding here for a reason. But not all of them are caught up in your war Aubrey. You let them face the Army without warning then that blood is on you. All four of you.”

Damnit. She knew Kat was right and had already been trying to decide if she should warn them or not. Aubrey gave a nod and pushed back. “You and Emmy take the ladder up to the tower. Stacie is up there waiting for you, y’all get. You hear? All three of you. You get to the girls and you get the hell out of here.”

“Aub…”

Kat opened her mouth and Aubrey shook her head, green eyes narrowing as her stubborn streak took hold.

“I said git. Now.” Kat knew trying would be useless but Aubrey could tell she wanted to argue until she had no breath left to speak. Just as they were about to turn and walk away Aubrey almost lost her resolve, reaching out to stop Katherine from going further. “Tell her…anything you have to. Anything to get her to go. So long as you tell her...tell her I loved her.”

And she did. She loved Stacie with every single part of her being. There was not an ocean she would not cross, not a mountain she would not climb, nor an army she would not face for Stacie Conrad. There was nothing to her without Stacie and she desperately hoped that one day Stacie would forgive her for dying. Because she wasn’t going to survive what was coming. Probably no one left in the caverns would.

“You’re not dead yet so you can tell her yourself.” Kat’s no nonsense tone made her smile a bit sadly but she gave a nod. It was easier to just let Kat believe she was going to be fine. “You’re gonna fight until you’ve got nothing left to shoot at Aubrey. Because that’s who you are, and because you know she needs you still. So you aren’t going to die.”

And with that she shoved the shotgun she had kept stored on a high shelf against Aubrey’s chest and pushed Emily out to the main hall. The cold metal in her hands helped settle her and push back all the regret and doubt that lingered in her mind. There was no time for that, there was only time for action. Aubrey ducked down the hall to the cave where they kept all their supplies and filled the sack with as many shells for the shotgun as she could find.

The blonde worked furiously, rummaging through boxes and bags until she came across a large crate with a bold letter S painted on it. Aubrey kicked over a few tarps and baskets until she found the pry bar and wrenched open the lid. A slow smile graced her face, widening until a chuckle spilled out of her mouth from deep in her chest.

“That’s my girl….”

Quickly as she could she packed what she dared take in the sack and hoisted it carefully over her shoulder. The shotgun rested against the other and she slipped back down the hall as quiet as a church mouse. Emmy and Kat were nowhere to be seen but she suspected they were already gone up the tower. Someone came around the side of the wall blindly and ran into her. He smelled like sweat and dirt, which wasn’t uncommon, but his soft doughy body bounced off hers and she knew who it was immediately.

“Hey…Aubrey. What the…what are you doing here?” Bumper gave her a confused look then frowned. “What’s all th…ow!”

There wasn’t really time to explain so she shoved him out of the way and walked into the center of the main hall. It seemed almost as if no one noticed her at all the way they all just kept on. With a growl she placed the sack on the ground and climbed on to a table currently being used for a game of cards. Aubrey pulled off a glove and raised her hand to her lips to blow out a shrill whistle that silenced even the furthest corners of the cave.

“Listen up. The Army is damn near here. I reckon they’ll cut y’all down just as soon as look at you. You’ve got half a tick to get armed before they ride through the pass.”

Bumper rubbed his shoulder from when she’d pushed him into the rough wall and strutted forward, chest all out like the Beale family prized cock. “So you say. How would the Army even know where to look?”

They weren’t going to believe her. They might even shoot her just for thinking it let alone saying it so she decided to avoid a direct answer. Aubrey took a breath and shook her head. “Because a traitor went and told them where to find us.” It was the best she could do to not outright name him but the way Bumper watched her made her think his mind was on who exactly had told.

Someone else pushed forward from a back table, his voice more of a growl than a human sound. “So what? They want your lot, not us. We should just string you up for them.” It started a round of agreeing laughter but she noted that Bumper was not at all laughing or participating in the joke.

He took a step forward and kicked the chair nearest him. “Y’all shut up now. You think the Army is gonna care about who they shoot? Ain’t we all guilty of something, somewhere?” They ignored him mostly, a few of them maybe listened a little more intently. But for the most part they didn’t care what Aubrey had to say and just assumed ignore her rather than try to argue. Ignore them both. Idiots.

“You’re right about that. They’ll shoot first, the bodies can be sussed out after. Army policy.” He gave her a nod as if he expected that and looked around. There were a lot of men and women in those caverns yet. A few of them looked close enough to believing but they didn’t have time to convince them all. “You can stay if you want to, but if you leave now you might ma…”

The rushed clatter of hooves almost to the mouth of the cave brought all their attention up. There was a tense frozen moment before she leapt down from the table and kicked it over on to its side. The first shot zinged by a group of men to ricochet off the wall and find its home in the face of one of the men still sitting in his chair, cards grasped in his now lifeless hand.

“DOWN!”

They were seasoned fighters, all of them. They knew how to hold themselves in a gunfight. And they knew how to recover from surprise. But it still wasn’t quite fast enough to evade the first few sprays of bullets into the room. Bumper’s heavy body ducked down behind the table with her and she gave a mild grunt. “Told you so.”

“Yeap.” He hefted the shotgun she’d put down earlier and rested it on the edge of the table before pulling the trigger. “I knew it too. You can be a real bitch but ya ain’t no liar.”

It was about all the compliment she would ever get from Bumper so she took it for what it was and let him keep the gun. A bullet winged by her hand as she tried to reach for the sack, finally grabbing it and pulling it toward her cover.

“That’s almost sweet Bumper. Dingo’s been having a real nice effect on you.” He gave her a snort and fired again, taking down a soldier trying to run at them. Around them tables turned over and people scuttled for hiding spots as best they could. Most of them already firing into the void, hoping to hit a target. It was a foolish waste of ammo but she wasn’t about to caution them. A bottle rolled toward her over the uneven ground and she picked it up. It was still mostly full and she smirked. “Stay here.”

“Got no place else to go, Posen.” She dug some shells from the sack and put them near his knee with a pat to his shoulder. It should help him give her some cover. Aubrey scooted out and lunged for another rolling bottle. It was too hard to grab more than a few since most of them were just broken bits of glass and trickles of whiskey scattered on the ground. Another volley of shots peppered the wall just above her head and she tucked down and half crawled back to the table.

It was loud, so loud, with shots echoing in the cavern, too loud to focus on any one area of danger. So she put all her attention to yanking the sleeve off her shirt to tear into rags. She doused them with a little alcohol and stuffed them into the necks of the bottles she’d scavenged. “Hey Bump…”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look at her for longer than a second before firing on another soldier. Bumper Allen was not the person she wished she was back to back with in a gunfight but he wasn’t so bad at the moment. She maybe even felt like they had an understanding between them. Enough to for her to trust him more than she had ever trusted Jesse. At least. Right now.

“Lay out some cover fire for me will ya?” He gave her a nod and loaded the shotgun as she worked to frantically light the rag with her flint kit. It lit up in a brief blaze and she was grateful when it caught fully. Bumper rose slightly and started to shoot into the soldiers spilling into the cave like a swarm of insects. They ducked and scattered from the buckshot but she was right behind Bumper, her height making it easy to throw the glass bottle with all her might to smash against the entrance to the caverns. Fire licked up the wall, consuming the alcohol that had splashed everywhere. Some of it splashing the nearest men and making them scream in pain. Bumper crowed in delight and not for the first time she was reminded of a rooster. She ducked back down and tried to light a second one as he reloaded.

“Got two left, they don’t last long but it will distract them so we can move from here.” He nodded at that but said nothing and she took that to mean he understood her meaning. But just to be on the safe side she continued. “I’ll let these two fly, we bug out. Meet at the train if you survive.”

“You think I might die?” Yes. But she didn’t want to say it so she shrugged and looked around the side of the table to gauge when to throw. It was enough for him and he gave another grunt. “Was it Jesse?” Aubrey turned back to him and gave a short nod making his scowl deepen. “No, ma’am I’m not dying today. I gotta have a little vengeance before I see my maker.” He thumbed back the hammers and raised the gun. They might not be friends, hell they really didn’t even like each other, but it was the most they had ever respected one another she thought.

Aubrey looked at her last two bottles and shook her head. If she was going to die like a sinner she might as well die sinning. She pulled the cork out with her teeth and spit out before taking a long deep pull of the bottle. It burned something harsh and she passed him the bottle for his own drink. “Remember. Get to the train, Dingo’ll be there.”

He nodded and passed the bottle back. Aubrey took another drink before putting a rag in the top and lighting both bottles. They rose together, him in front shooting a line of fire across the entrance, her behind him a lit bottle in each hand. Aubrey didn’t even think, didn’t hesitate, she launched the bottles toward the targets and ducked back down the second the smooth glass slipped free of her hands. A tongue of flame licked up the walls, some of it catching the support beams that kept the entry arch open. That was it for her, she had nothing left to try so she swept up the sack and bolted for the back ladder.

Climbing up it might have gone a lot faster if she didn’t have to lug the sack and the weight cost her some time. Too much time it seemed. A bullet whizzed past and for a minute she didn’t realize it had ricocheted back and struck her. But the liquid fire that raced down her leg as she slid back down the ladder gave her an all too painful signal that she was hit. The burn in her flesh when she moved made her bite her lip. Climbing the ladder was out of the question now. Somehow she’d known she wasn’t going to make it back. Even as she left Stacie’s side to slip into the mountain, she’d known. Aubrey sat up slowly, inching herself to the minimal cover of a few busted chairs and the dead body of another of Jesse’s boys that was slumped over them.

She was going to die there and she knew it. Aubrey reached into her vest pocket and pulled out the last stub of her cigar. It was crushed to pulp and she muttered a very un-lady like curse and tossed it away. The body of the man jolted with the impact of another bullet and his coat fell open, a brand new cigar dropping out of it to the ground beside her. The blonde smiled and grabbed it, biting off the end. “And even in my dying moments he shineth his mercy and light upon me…Thank you Lord.”

If only her father were here to see her now…

Aubrey swallowed thickly at the rise of emotions that swelled up in her chest. She would have wanted him to be proud of course but he never would be, he would never love her. She didn’t regret that in the least however, her only regret was that she wouldn’t get one more kiss and one more night in Stacie’s arms. The only heaven she ever knew. She lit the cigar finally after a few failed attempts, hands too slippery and shaky to hold the flint, and leaned back with a sigh. At least she knew love. At least she knew hope. And soon she’d know peace. The smoke curled around her head as she dug around in the bag until her blood slicked fingers curled tightly on the hard cylinder. They’d all know peace now.  

It was too hard to strike her flint now, so she used the end of her cigar to light the fuse on the stick of dynamite and laughed when it sparked and started to fizzle. The whiskey and shock of her wound must have made her damn near delirious because she laughed again before rising in a wobble to her knees to chuck the stick as far as she could across the cave. Another bullet took her in the shoulder and her knee gave with the pain, her vision going gray and blurry at the edges. She was vaguely aware that she was on her back staring up at the ceiling waiting for the blast as the blood seeped far too quickly from her rapidly cooling body but she hadn’t the will to pull herself together. Aubrey blinked a few times then smiled when the ceiling transformed into the shape of Stacie’s face.

“My angel…”

She knew Stacie wasn’t there. But she saw her none the less and thanked God for giving her that one last view of the most beautiful creature she’d ever set eyes upon. Her gloved hand reached up weakly to touch that divine mirage before her eyes closed and her hand dropped limply to her chest.

[rainbow-sides]

A Snake in the Grass: Chapter One

Summary: Spare Prince Roman, fifth in line for the throne, goes to fight the evil Dragon Witch to protect his kingdom and get revenge for the people she has killed, along with his squire Patton. Patton is kidnapped by the Dragon Witch and presumed dead, and Roman is badly injured, his life only barely saved by the palace healer, Logan. When they find Patton alive several weeks later, seemingly half-dead and having been tortured, they bring him home, only to find that he isn’t quite acting like himself...

Pairings: eventual romantic Logince, ambiguous Moxiety

Word Count: 3,475

Warnings: Description of injuries (mildly graphic), violence, assumed death of a friend (no actual major character death), guilt, grief, swearing, some painful medical stuff, imprisonment, talk of torture, emotional manipulation, abusive friendship. This story contains villain!Deceit.

Notes: This is the story that won my 900 followers vote, so here’s the first chapter! It gets really, really dark--please heed the warnings. In later chapters, there is physical and psychological torture (not extremely graphic but very present). I’m pretty happy with the way this story is turning out, and I’m working hard to finish it. There are 4 chapters roughly this length fully complete, and there’s plenty more to write that’s well outlined. Enjoy! <3 ~Martin

Masterpost

Roman stared in shock at the empty space in front of him. The empty space where just a moment before had stood Patton, his squire, mouth open in a scream that Roman had never gotten to hear. Now...nothing. Just a field spattered with blood--some red, some blue.

At least Roman knew that he had gotten a few blows in on the Dragon Witch before she had gotten Patton.

The others were catching up to him--Virgil, a lower ranking noble and his distant cousin, reached him first. “Roman?” he panted. “We came as quickly as we could.”

Logan wasn't far behind. The young healer was breathing hard, not used to running long distances since he spent most of his time reading. “What happened?”

His sword fell to the ground, stained blue from the vile creature's blood. Roman continued to stare. He can't be gone.

“Where's Patton?” Virgil’s voice was high-pitched with fear for his best friend. “Roman?!”

“He's bleeding,” Logan gasped. “Roman? Roman!”

Roman looked down. Sure enough, a bright red stain was spreading across his chest. The pain hit him a second later, sending him crumpling to the ground with a cry. The venom from the Dragon Witch’s claws shot waves of agony through his body and he barely felt Logan rolling him over and tearing off the white tunic now turning crimson with blood.

“Where is Patton?” Virgil screamed, turning around wildly to look for him. “Roman, where is he?”

“The Prince is injured,” Logan stated. “He won't be answering--”

“Gone,” Roman groaned. He tried to focus through the burning pain, but it was white hot and didn't relent. “Gone, he's gone, she took him.”

“Get him back!” Virgil shouted. “Bring him back, get him back, bring him back!”

“He isn't c-coming...back,” Roman choked out. “Sh-she won't let him l-live…”

The heart-wrenching scream that Virgil let out as he fell to his knees almost matched the agony that Roman felt from the toxin in his blood. He could see black edges start to creep in around his vision. His weakening heartbeat pounded in his ears and almost drowned out Logan's desperately calm voice. “...need to get him back to the palace...come on...carry him by myself...save him out here...to lose both of them...Virgil, please…”

Roman lost consciousness. He wished that had come with the loss of pain.

The hellish venom of the Dragon Witch kept him in a nightmare of a fever. His body felt like it was on fire, his blood boiling in his veins. Several times, he begged whoever was there to kill him quickly before the toxin could. The cool cloth on his forehead and soothing voice next  to him brought him no relief.

Barely lucid, he gazed up at a wooden ceiling with eyes that stung and felt dry despite the fact that he knew he was crying. The tears were hot against his skin and whoever was beside him couldn't wipe them away fast enough. He could still see Patton’s terrified face before it had disappeared, pleading with him to save him. But he hadn't been strong enough, and Patton had paid the price.

Nobody taken by the Dragon Witch ever returned. Whether she kept them as prisoners or slaves for a while, killed them immediately, or did something else with them was unclear, but in her battles with Roman, she always bragged that their last words were either pleading for mercy or just screaming. Roman just hoped that Patton hadn't suffered too much before the end.

“I'm sorry, Patton, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,” Roman repeated over and over through cracked lips. He heard someone sobbing and wondered if it was himself before a door slammed and the sobs disappeared. Once, he thought he saw the Dragon Witch in front of him and reached for his sword. “Take me instead!” he wailed, grabbing hold of something. He moved weakly and tried to brandish his sword. He realized quickly that he wasn't holding cold metal but a warm hand, and he was being held still.

“Lay still, Roman. Lay still.”

Roman had just enough time to see Logan's exhausted face before he fell back into fiery darkness.

Every muscle in his body ached the next time he awoke. His throat burned and his mouth tasted acidic. Breathing was a struggle. His body shook with tremors. He let out a quiet moan, miserable, unable to open his eyes. But at least he wasn't on fire anymore. He was hypersensitive to all the noise around him. Someone was breathing nearby, slow and steady, like they were asleep. Outside, as if from an open window, a few birds were chirping. It pounded at Roman's head, and he whimpered again.

The breathing hitched. Someone sniffed. “Ah, fuck,” Logan muttered. “Fell asleep again--oh!”

A hand touched Roman’s forehead lightly. Roman wanted to lean into it, but he couldn't move.

“Fever’s broken,” Logan said softly to himself. “He's finally still.” Something was being pulled off his chest. As the bandage was removed and the wound exposed to the air, Roman wished he had the ability to scream. The pain only worsened as Logan cleaned the wound off with something and then replaced the bandage.

Roman managed to let out a slight whine. Logan paused.

“Roman?” he asked. After a moment, he finished securing the bandage and muttered, “He isn't going to answer, he's not even conscious.”

Again, Roman whimpered. He was desperately trying to convey to Logan that he was conscious, he was awake, everything just hurt too much to move and his lips felt like they were glued together and he couldn't open his eyes.

“Roman? Prince Roman, are you awake?” Logan asked incredulously. He took Roman’s hand. “Prince Roman, squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Roman squeezed his hand as tightly as he could. His fingers ached immediately, but he kept squeezing.

“Oh, Roman…” Logan breathed. “It is alright, you're safe. I am sure it must hurt, but the worst seems to have passed. Do you think you could drink some water? Squeeze once for yes, twice for no.”

Perhaps a bit ambitious, but I certainly would like to have a drink of water. He squeezed once. The dry burning in his throat and awful taste on his tongue might ease somewhat if he could manage to open his mouth for a drink.

He hadn't needed to worry about that. A wet cloth brushed against his lips, moistening them until they parted. Roman took in a shuddery breath through his mouth.

Calm and pragmatic, Logan said, “Don't try to move or say anything. Here, we'll start with this and see how it goes.” A few drops of water were poured into his parched mouth. He barely even had to swallow them. Slowly, he was given a bit more, and his throat started to hurt a little less. The sharp, sour taste in his mouth diminished. Although the water wasn't cold and was only, well, water, it was the best thing he had ever tasted. “More later,” Logan told him. “If I give you too much at once, it might upset your stomach.”

Roman found the strength to open and close his hand searchingly. With a soft sigh, Logan took it gently, rubbing his thumb over Roman’s knuckles.

“Can you open your eyes?” Logan asked. “Again, once for yes and twice for no.”

Twice he squeezed.

“I can try to help. Do not try to force yourself.” Another damp cloth touched his eyelid lightly. This one was a softer material than the one that had touched his lips. The water seeped through his eyelashes and into his eyes. It stung, but not in a bad way. Soon, he found himself blinking ever so slightly. “Open your eyes, Roman. The room isn't bright, it won't hurt.”

Roman opened his eyes. Sure enough, the room was dark and only lit by a lamp on the table in the corner. The small flame flickered underneath the cover. Dark curtains were drawn over a window, but just a tiny bit of light escaped over the top and told Roman that it was daytime.

Logan's hand was resting on his forehead. He looked down at Roman with an expression of relief. “I am glad that you are awake, Prince.” He appeared to be exhausted. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and small, dark bruises had formed underneath them.

“L...Lo…?” Roman whispered.

“Shhh,” Logan said, concerned. “You do not have to try to talk.”

“Lo,” Roman said again. His voice was hoarse and cracked. “Vir...Virgil? Where…”

Logan closed his eyes briefly. “Virgil is...not taking Patton's loss very well. He tried to stay at your side but found some of the things you said in your fever to be too distressing.”

“So sorry,” breathed Roman.

“He knows. I know.” Logan stroked Roman’s hair up off his forehead. “It is alright, Roman.”

“No…” Roman groaned. “No! No, P-Patton, Pat...Patton…” He felt his whole body shake with a sob.

Alarmed, Logan took both of Roman’s hands in one of his own and placed the other on Roman’s chest above the wound. “You're upsetting yourself,” he said. “You should try to remain calm. You are far too weak to exert yourself by crying.”

But he couldn't stop. Patton, I'm sorry! He continued to sob, which only made the pain in his body worse. Logan tried to hold him still, shushing him softly.

The door opened. “Logan, I brought--oh.”

“Virgil! No, wait, stay! Please, you're better at this than I am,” Logan pleaded. “He might hurt himself if he keeps on like this. I need him to calm down.”

“Is he awake?” asked Virgil cautiously.

“Yes, he is finally awake. Please, Virgil…”

“Virgil,” Roman sobbed. “I'm so sorry, I'm…” He cried out as one of his heaving sobs sent a slicing pain across his chest.

“He's bleeding again!” Logan exclaimed. “Roman, be still! Hush, hush, be still! Virgil, please!”

Virgil cast himself down onto the bed next to Roman and threw one arm over him, pulling him close. “I know, I know, I know,” he said, choked up. “I know, Roman, but you have to stay still, you have to calm down, you're really hurt and sick.”

Roman turned his head to hide his face against Virgil's shoulder. “Patton,” he wailed.

“I know, Ro, I know, I know.” Virgil kneaded at Roman's side, trying to comfort him as well as hold back his own tears. “Believe me, I know, it hurts, it hurts, but you gotta lay still. You're bleeding again, and Lo’s gonna fix it, but you've gotta stay still.”

Without the energy to fight it, Roman went limp. Virgil held him in his arms, one hand under his neck and one across his belly. As Logan removed the bandage and applied pressure to the now bleeding gash, Roman trembled with the effort of holding back a scream. Virgil pressed closer, touching his forehead behind Roman’s temple, just above his ear.

“You're okay, you're okay,” he whispered. “Breathe. I know it hurts. I've got you.” He ran his fingers through Roman’s hair. Roman found Virgil’s hand that was splayed across his stomach and squeezed it.

Fighting his body and brain, both of which were telling him to pass out, Roman tried to focus only on Virgil. And he was trying, oh, god, he was trying so hard, but the pain won and the world turned dark again.

The world was dark. When the sunny field had disappeared, Patton’s consciousness had gone with it. Slowly, slowly, he came back to himself. His eyes opened, but it made no difference. The world was dark.

Have I gone blind? was his first thought. And then, where am I? He was laying on his side on a cold, hard, uneven surface. Stone, he concluded a moment later after feeling around with his hand for a moment. There was a sharp pain in his ankle, which shot a spike of agony up his leg as he tried to sit up. “Agh!” he cried.

“Don't try to get up. Your ankle is broken.”

Patton froze. He knew that voice. But the person it belonged to was dead.

The sound of a flint striking steel echoed out, and a shower of sparks illuminated half of someone's face. A muttered curse, and the steel and flint were struck again. This time, an oil lantern flamed up. “There.”

“Nathair?” Patton said, barely louder than a whisper. “Is that...really you?”

“It's me.”

“But...we thought...you were dead!”

Nathair cast him a long glance. “Surprise?”

“Where have you been all this time?” Patton demanded of his old friend. He sat up with a groan, ignoring the pain in his ankle.

“Here. In this cave.”

Patton looked around. Sure enough, the lantern cast enough light for him to see the stone arch of a ceiling. Narrow metal bars separated him from Nathair and locked him in to a small space, just long enough to lay down in. “Where is this place?”

“Who knows? It's the cave of the Dragon Witch. This is where she keeps her prisoners.”

“I'm so glad to see you,” Patton whispered. “Even if it's not...the best of circumstances. You're alive!”

“I'm alive,” Nathair agreed.

Patton dragged himself over to the metal bars, wincing. “Are you hurt? Are you okay? You have no idea how much we missed you.”

The firelight cast a strange glimmer in Nathair’s eyes. “Oh, I'm alright, Patton.”

“I missed you,” Patton repeated. He reached through the bars, trying to touch him. He was already desperate for some human contact, frightened and lonely even with Nathair there.

But Nathair didn't reach back or let Patton touch him. He gazed into the flame of the oil lamp silently. One of his eyes looked almost yellow from the glow.

“Is...is anyone else here?” Patton asked, finally dropping his hand and wrapping his arms around himself. “Can we escape?”

“There is no escape.”

“But maybe with two of us, we could…”

Nathair looked up at him. “There is no escape, Patton.”

Something about the way he said it made Patton shrink back. It wasn't like he was informing Patton of a fact. He seemed almost to relish the bad news and the look of disappointment on Patton’s face. “What's going to happen?” Patton asked timidly. “What is she going to do with me?”

“She'll ask you to join her army,” Nathair stated. “You'll refuse, of course, but there is no point. She wants you. And she always gets what she wants.”

A heavy, worried feeling settled in the pit of Patton’s stomach. “Nathair? How do you know that?”

“I've seen it happen with everyone who comes here. Some are too cowardly or too smart to even try resisting. But once she gets her claws into you, there's no chance. You'll be begging for death before you give up.”

“What happened to you?” Patton asked.

Nathair shrugged. “She's forgotten about me. She took so many of us that day, I was left in a dark corner and forgotten about. Left to rot. I've seen dozens of people pass through this cave, Patton, spoken to all of them. The first few, we tried to escape together. But she always found us. Wasn't looking for me, of course, which is how I could hide again. After the third prisoner I saw dying in agony that way, I knew I could never make another escape attempt no matter how much they pleaded with me.”

“Nathair,” Patton said urgently. “Nathair, it could be different. We could figure something out. You said she's building an army, Roman needs that information. We could bring it to him.”

“Roman?” Nathair said. “Roman is dead.”

Patton let out a strangled cry. “What?”

“The Dragon Witch was boasting of it to one of her assistants as she put you in that cage. She said she had gotten enough venom into him to kill ten people his size.” Nathair sighed. “I'm sorry to have to tell you such ill news. I know you were his squire.”

“I'm his friend,” Patton said softly.

“Of course you were.”

Patton hugged himself tighter. Roman...dead? He could hardly believe it. Roman had promised him when they rode out of the palace together that he was confident he could defeat her. Without the whole army of knights to worry about, there wasn’t the same kind of risk, and Roman didn’t have to worry about distractions. He had promised Patton that they would be alright. He had promised.

Of course, Patton had known there was still a danger. He and Roman had fought against the Dragon Witch plenty of times before. And each time, the casualties had been enormous. Why had he ever believed that this time would have been different?

Virgil had known. He had begged them not to go, but Roman had been insistent. He had spoken about his duty as one of the kingdom’s protectors, and about avenging his fallen friends. He and Virgil had argued horribly. Patton had stepped between them, pleading for them to stop, to listen to each other instead of just shouting, to call Logan in and see what he had to say. But neither had listened to him, either.

When Roman had finally stormed out, Patton had been so torn. Virgil was holding onto his hand, almost crying, begging him to stay. But his responsibility was to follow Roman, so he had kissed Virgil’s cheek and promised that he would return.

Now he had failed to protect Roman. And he had broken his promise to his best friend.

He was crying now. Pulling his cloak around himself, he hid his face in his arms and sobbed.

“I truly am sorry,” Nathair said, sounding slightly bored. “There’s no point in crying, though, you’ll figure that out eventually. Hopefully before she comes back for you, because she hates it when her prisoners cry. She thinks they’re weak, so she hurts them worse.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Patton sniffled. “She can hurt me all she wants.”

“You’ll change your mind. They all do. You’ll break or you’ll die.”

“Then I’ll die,” stated Patton.

“Then you’ll die,” agreed Nathair. “But it would be easier for you to give yourself to her.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s easier. It would be wrong. And I would rather die than betray my family.”

A sound almost like a hiss reverberated around the cave. Patton realized it was laughter. “Family? What family? I’ve known you for years, Patton, and you have no family,” Nathair told him.

“Virgil, Roman, Logan. My family.”

“You were Roman’s squire, not his family. Whatever relationship you had with Virgil-- now, I don’t judge, but we were all...curious--that kid was so damaged, he was incapable of really caring for anyone. And all Logan ever did was complain about you. Distracting Roman, being too emotional, assuming you were his friend, so annoying...None of them loved you. Why bother trying to protect them now?”

No, it’s not true, I don’t believe it. Nathair’s words hurt, though.

“Besides, Roman is dead now, anyway. What allegiance do you owe the crown with him gone?”

They did, though. They did love me, didn’t they? I loved them. Didn’t they…Patton sobbed harder.

“Oh, Patton,” Nathair said gently. “I’m not trying to upset you, I’m trying to help you. You have to see that you’ll be causing yourself unnecessary pain. And for what? People you deluded yourself into thinking cared about you? I don’t want to see you hurt, Patton. And you will be hurt if you don’t yield to her immediately. Is it really worth it?”

Patton wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Yes,” he said. “Of course it is. Even if...even if you’re right, I still won’t ever give in to her. She’s evil, Nathair, she hurts people, and I won’t have any part of that.” Suddenly, the lantern went out and plunged the cave back into darkness. Patton flinched. “Nathair?”

A great rumbling sound came from the other side of the cave. Part of the wall swung open, flooding the cave with moonlight. The terrifying silhouette of the Dragon Witch was standing there. A smaller, human silhouette stood next to her. A smooth, sibilant whisper rang out. “Let’s take a look at what we’ve got, shall we?”

Closing his eyes and trying to breathe, Patton shrank back against the bars of the cage. He was afraid, despite what he had told Nathair. But no matter what happened, he wasn’t going to let her turn him into someone who hurts people. He was going to do the right thing--even if it killed him. Even if nobody cared about him. His death would mean nothing, but at least he was going to do the right thing.

My taglist:

@a-lexicon-of-words​ @am-i-heaven-or-am-i-hell​ @sassy-in-glasses​ @iamsilentwolf​ @theshipqueenarrives​ @alurea-actually​ @haikyuupaladin​ @my-happy-little-bean​ @faithfulcat111​ @iris-sanders-athena​ @riverblujay​ @faacethefacts​ @sushipug43​ @decaffeinatedpersonnel @finger-gunsss @wicked-delights @escapingslowly @greeneggsandham1998 @blue-fluffy-dragon @fuzzypurplecloud @anuninspiredpoet

A Snake in the Grass Taglist:

@whatdoesrelaxmean (you’re the only one who voted for this fic off anon, so that’s something! <3)

[sad-dreamer93]

Long Distance- An Adam Cole Fanfiction ~ Part 23

"wow this is beautiful" I say as we park in the driveway of the cabin. it was a beautiful two story log cabin, as we walked through the front door I was amazed at how big it was. I carried the groceries into the kitchen and started putting stuff away while he carried our bags upstairs to the bedroom. 

after a few minutes, I felt his arms wrap around my waist, hugging me tightly from behind. "i'm glad you like it" he says making me smile

"of course I do. I would have been happy with a hotel room. as long as i'm with you I don't care where we end up"

"what do you want for dinner tonight?" he asks

"I don't know. i'm fine with whatever"

"how about I grill some hamburgers?" he asks

"that sounds good, i'll make some mashed potatoes and some kind of vegetable"

"or you could relax and let me cook tonight" he says

"I got it babe, its not that hard" I say giving him a gentle kiss. I started making dinner while he turned on the grill. I had also decided to make my grandmas famous baked beans. which I had been craving for months.

"what do you think about eating outside?" he asks

"its a little too cool for that" I say. I was still cold from just walking in the house 15 minutes earlier.

"it feels good out here, you're crazy" he says laughing

"you're the crazy one. its like 50 degrees"

"we'll eat inside since you're cold. but I do want to have one special date night out on the patio" he says

"just pick a warm day will you"  he laughs

"of course love, I don't want you to be miserable" he says

"although I wouldn't mind getting in the hot tub at some point in the next two weeks"

"tonight?" he asks

"I can't remember?" I ask

"oh right" he says

"i'm sorry" I say kind of embarrassed. I hated it being that time of the month. it took the fun out of everything.

"why are you apologizing love?" he asks picking my chin up to look at him

"because i'm already ruining the trip"

"is that what you think? you could never ruin this trip for me. plus it'll only last a week or less. plenty of time for us to get in the hot tub or do other stuff" he smirked and kissed me again

"thank you"

"you never have to thank me for telling the truth baby girl"

"nobody else ever understood it. during those times of having it, everyone made me feel like a burden"

"I may not understand entirely what you go through but I do know I hate seeing you in pain or hurting. you're never a burden to me. no matter what. I love you"

"I love you too Adam" he gives me a sweet kiss before returning outside to finish making the burgers.

I had just finished up everything inside when he brought the plate of burgers inside. setting them on the island

"wow, everything looks amazing babe" he says

"I couldn't let you do all the cooking"

"well you could have, but I don't mind. your the best cook ever" he says

"I wouldn't go that far. I learned a lot from my grandma, she's the best cook"

"i'll have to thank her next time we visit" he says happily. my grandparents were the only ones who accepted our relationship. the could see how happy I was with him. 

"what do you want to do tonight?" I ask

"how about we cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?" he suggests

"oh that sounds amazing"

after we ate, he did the dishes, making me relax. I set up the PlayStation and turned on Netflix. I found one of the movies he's been wanting to see. it was a horror movie, and although I hated them. it gave me an excuse to snuggle ever closer to him.

"what did you decide on watching?" he asks. when he sees the title on the screen he smiles. "babe you know we don't have to watch this, I can watch it some other time" he says

"nope, you've had so many Disney marathons with me, so its my turn. plus if I get scared, it gives me a chance to snuggle closer into your chest"

"if you're sure. I just don't want you to have nightmares" he says

"i'll be fine" I say playing the movie.

the movie hadn't been on for 10 minutes yet and I was already terrified. I hid my face into his chest. "you okay babe?" he asks

"yeah i'm fine"

"you sure, I can turn it off" he says

"don't you dare. you wanted to watch it, even if I'm scared I'm staying here with you"

he rubbed my back, which helped me relax a little bit. I knew he felt bad that I was suffering through it, but I would do anything to make him happy. 

I had almost fallen asleep in his lap until something appeared on the screen causing me to jump. Adam laughed and held my hand "you alright love?" he asks

"yeah, I just didn't expect that"

"obviously, you jumped 10 feet in the air"

"shut up"

"how about you make me" he says

I saw the ending credits beginning to roll so I knew this was my chance.

*slight smut ahead*

I straddled his lap, and started kissing him. I deepened the kiss, I could tell he was getting turned on by the growing bulge under me. after a few minutes of kissing him and grinding my hips into him I pulled away.

"how was that for shutting you up"

"really babe?"

"I think you might want to take care of that" I say pointing to his noticeable hard on.

"you're such a damn tease" 

"unless you want help with it" I suggest

"but what about..." he began

"doesn't mean I can't give you a blow job"

"only if you want to" he says

my hand started slowly running over him. palming him through his shorts.

"no teasing" he says

"i'm sorry do you want me to stop?" 

"no" he says

"then be quiet and enjoy it"

I freed him from the confines of his shorts, and allowed my hand to slowly begin to rub and down his length. I loved feeling him squirm in pleasure under my touch

"babe" he whines again making me let go of him

"have fun taking care of it yourself" I say getting up and starting to walk away

"i'm sorry" he says pulling me back to him

"not a peep from you" I say. he nods. I continued my motion of stroking him. I could see him fighting back moans.

he jerked as I slowly took him into my mouth, quickly bobbing my head up and down along his length. 

"feel good?" I ask he moans in response.  

"feels amazing" he says

I continued to take more of him into my mouth. I had never been able to take his entire length, but tonight I wanted to try

"holy shit" he moans as I succeeded in taking him in his entirety 

"please don't stop, i'm so close" he says again. making me pick up the speed. within seconds I could feel him twitch and his cum hitting the back of my throat

"god damn baby girl, you get better every time you do that" he says making me smirk

"i'm glad you enjoyed it. you'll be getting them for the next week"

"you don't have to" he says but I could tell he was happy I had said it

"I want to. I love teasing you" I say which makes him laugh

"just remember, i'll eventually get to return the favor" he says

"until then, i'm happy to make you feel good" he smiled and kissed me gently

@thebutterflygirl16

[darkfalcon-z]

You cannot take it back, make it undone. Chapter 5

dbz au, Gohan, Raditz,  over 5000 words (together with footnotes), GEN,  space fantasy/soft science fiction/slice of life

warnings for: child abuse, manipulation, consumption of non-human sapient life forms.

special thanks to Over-8000 for beta reading this chapter for me

on AO3

chapter 1, previous chapter, chapter directory

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One day Raditz brought an alien with him. For a supposed adult, it was a rather smallish creature with bluish-grey fur and a horse-like face. Despite the appearance it was most certainly a person of some kind, as clothes and jewellery indicated sapience.

"Kill this thing," Raditz ordered and dropped the being on the ground.

Utterly terrified, Gohan noticed the creature was already badly injured, too injured to get away, despite that they were frantically trying to move. They couldn't stand, so they tried to crawl until they collapsed on the ground and squawked in pain.

"Why?" Despite how frightened he was Gohan could not help but ask, a small hint of rebellion barely audible in his voice.

"Just do it! It's a part of your training," Raditz stated impatiently.

"I don't want to." Gohan braced himself in anticipation for the upcoming blow.

Raditz smacked him hard and Gohan fell to the ground.

"Stupid, fucking, brat! We don't have time for this!" Raditz shouted furiously but soon cooled down. He crouched next to Gohan, who still lay on the ground. Gohan pointedly did not look at him.

"What's the matter? Don't you know how to kill? I have shown you how to concentrate your power, but if you still can't do that there's plenty of things you can use. Just find a hard, sharp stick and stab them or hit them with a stone."

By the concerned tone of his voice, already absent of earlier anger, Gohan could tell Raditz was trying to be understanding and helpful. It did not help how macabre the whole situation seemed.

Raditz knew that some cubs just needed a little help to get a hold on killing their victims. It certainly wasn't abnormal. Some cubs would show curiosity or attempt to play with their prey. Of course, cubs just learning to kill were usually much younger than this one. It usually happened when the cubs started to live exclusively on solid food, or in more recent years before the destruction of Planet Vegeta, when they left their incubators. So it was no surprise they did not know what to do with their prey and how. He knew for certain this particular cub had never killed anything, save for small water mollusc, and he frankly thought that did not count as a legitimate kill. The obvious conclusion was that the brat would need Raditz’s help.

"I crippled them for you. They are no danger, you can safely approach. It's going to be an easy kill," he explained. "They're weak, you can strangle them or kick and punch them till they are dead." Maybe the cub needed just a little more assurance, a little more guidance.

"It's cowardly to attack someone who can't fight back," Gohan mumbled and refused to look at him.

"Oh, that." Raditz brightened. "It's good that you are so spirited and eager for a challenge. But I think it's still too early for you to fight an uninjured opponent."

"No. I won't do it," Gohan protested stubbornly.

"Fine! They are going to die anyway," Raditz spat. "It's just a matter of time." With those words, he left.

Gohan sat by the dying alien. He didn't know what to do, how to make things better. Even breathing looked painful for the creature. Whenever Gohan looked at their face, he could tell how frightened they were. But he couldn't do or say anything to help them. He tried not to cry, but couldn't stop his tears.

Then something unexpected happened. The alien raised their hand weakly and brushed it against Gohan's. He looked at the being’s face, but he could not read their expression. Was that a reassurance or a plea? He could only guess.

Finally, after what it seemed like forever, the alien died. Gohan did not leave the spot of his vigil until Raditz returned.

"You didn't do it after all," Raditz accused and then smacked Gohan for the second time that day.

"It was just pointlessly cruel, you know," Raditz said. He wouldn’t think much about pointless cruelty if it was more straightforward and actively inflicted. Raditz guessed to each their own, but passive observation of someone’s prolonged painful death wasn’t really a Saiyan thing. Worse yet, it took a lot of time. Saiyans killed easy victims quickly, mostly because they wanted finish their work as quickly as possible. And it wasn’t as if they had any personal grudges towards their victims, that would warrant dealing a painful death. Such behaviour from the cub could delay their work. Something had to be done about it.

Gohan sat back up, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

"They would suffer shorter if you just killed them," Raditz added and knelt by the dead body.

"They wouldn't suffer at all if you hadn't hurt them in the first place," Gohan mumbled.

Raditz gave him a stern look. "I told you, you are not ready. I'm responsible for you, you know? I don't want you to get seriously injured in this phase of your training, and I sure as hell don't want you killed."

Gohan clenched his fists in frustration. That was not what he meant at all. But he was tired, he didn't want to talk to Raditz any longer.

Raditz did not pay attention to Gohan's mood. Instead, he tore off one of the corpse’s arms and threw it at the boy.

"Here. Eat it," he ordered.

Gohan looked at him, mortified.

"What?! No! I can't! It's disgusting," he protested loudly. The prospect of eating a dead alien disturbed him greatly.

Raditz, who was in the foul mood already, wanted none of Gohan’s attitude. He grabbed Gohan by the hair on the side of latter's head, lifted the boy up and shook him painfully.

"Yes, you will," he drawled. "You need to eat. You're too thin already. If you lose any more weight, it is going to be bad for your health. And after today, you don't deserve anything better. So you will eat or I'm going to force it down your throat."

He dropped Gohan back to the ground.

"So? What’s it's going to be, brat?" he asked angrily.

"Can I at least cook it,"Gohan pleaded weakly. Even though he WAS hungry, he didn't want to eat any part of the dead alien. It was a person. This was eating a PERSON. Gohan felt this was wrong. He couldn't exactly explain why, but the thought disgusted him. But he also didn't want to be beaten any more. He was too tired to argue.

"Fine, if you can start a fire in 5 minutes," Raditz agreed.

Hastily, with shaking hands Gohan searched for suitable fuel in the nearby scrub. He managed to find enough dry branches to build a small heap and he lit it with his concentrated energy.

Raditz nodded with approval.

Gohan did not know how to cook properly something so large and while usually, Raditz would patiently answer his questions, now Gohan was too scared to ask and too nervous to improvise. He just settled for skewering the arm with a stick and putting it over the fire.

He could tell from the mean chuckle behind him that was not the correct thing to do. Unfortunately, Raditz did not feel generous enough to help him out.

Soon he had to rescue the scorching arm from the fire, as the stick broke and it fell down into flames. He heard Raditz laugh, then approach. Gohan feared that Raditz would force him to eat the practically raw meat.

Raditz crouched next to him. He peered around and chose a few more sticks from the pile Gohan had gathered earlier. First, Raditz stacked two smaller, forked branches at opposite sides of the fire. Next he lifted the forsaken arm from the ground and skewered it lengthwise with the longest stick from the pile. Once this was done, he secured the makeshift broach on the two supports.

"You need to rotate it slowly, otherwise it'll get charred on one side and still be raw on the other," he instructed. "You can make a grill too, but you’ll need more sticks."

"Thank you," Gohan peeped weakly. He didn't really think Raditz deserved much thanks, but it was good manners and Mom would be pleased that he had shown good manners.

Raditz just gave him an odd look. He tended to do that when Gohan thanked him for something.

"Whatever, brat," he brushed it off. "Just don't be so difficult next time."

He stayed with the cub to make sure the boy ate the unappetising limb. He snorted at the faces the cub made while he picked through the disgusting meat.

Maybe this was the problem; the creature he had brought for the cub to train with smelled completely unappealing. It was perfectly edible and rich with protein and fat - a good supplement for the cub's diet - but it tasted TERRIBLE. A Saiyan could tell that by smell alone when it came to meat. He certainly wouldn't touch it if he wasn't starving. Maybe the cub did not recognize the alien as a viable source of food?

But Raditz knew for sure the cub had to be very hungry so he did not expect problems concerning the unappetising alien. He had assumed that the cub would just do what comes naturally. So, what went wrong? The brat could have some hang-up about unappetising food. It was rare, but not unheard of among Saiyan children. That would explain why he had no interest in killing whatsoever.

It didn't explain why the boy had opposed his direct order, but cubs weren't exactly the most rational creatures. Maybe if he hadn't reacted so violently toward the first signs of disobedience from the cub, he would be able to goad the brat into killing. Maybe the brat had opposed him just for the thrill of getting into a confrontation? That had to be it. Or... maybe he had overlooked something. It just seemed off for some reason. But he saw no better explanation. Next time, he decided, he would bring something more suitable for Saiyan culinary tastes and see how the cub reacted.

*** Raditz squatted on the ground forearms resting on his knees and hands in front of him. Gohan crouched in similar position next to him. Another heavily wounded alien laid nearby, too hurt or too tired to move.

"You've killed before. Now you are telling me it's 'bad'?"Raditz asked.

"It was an animal yesterday. Now it's a person," the cub answered.

"I can see that, but this is also an animal. They die the same way. There is no difference," Raditz explained, exasperated.

"But it's NOT an animal," the cub protested stubbornly.

"Sure it is. They smell like an animal. The biological readings on the scouter are that of an animal. There are no reports of sapient fungi, plant people, crystal entities, energy beings nor any other weirdoes living on this planet so what else could it be? All people here are just animals." Raditz had no idea what the brat was trying to say, the cub sounded nonsensical. He could not think of a single reason why killing the alien now would be any harder, or ant different for that matter, than killing the beast yesterday. It was not like they were suddenly dealing with plant or fungus based entities, which would usually require destruction of whole body in order to ensure a kill, or some other exotic beings, that could only be terminated by some extraordinary means.

"What are we then? Are we animals too?"

Raditz groaned. "Of course we are! What did you think?" Wasn't it obvious? It should be, even for a small cub. Raditz knew the boy was intelligent and observant, but sometimes he didn't understand the simplest things. "Except, we are stronger animals. Predators. We kill them."

"But predators kill for food and..." the child trailed off.

"They're terrible to eat, we established as much." Raditz laughed as he recalled the incident from another day. "I'll make you a deal, brat. Kill them quickly and we can go get better food."

Normally he wouldn't bargain, but if the cub started to associate killing with a reward, then he might be less likely to object in the future. Besides, the brat needed more practice anyway. Killing had to be familiar. He couldn’t get hung up on each new kill. That would be ridiculous! It would take forever to get any work done. Also, Raditz needed to ensure the cub would kill when he was ordered to.

"But we can get something else to eat. We don't need to kill them for food," the cub reasoned.

"Yes, we do. I'll explain later. Now just kill them!" Raditz sighed. Why was this so difficult?

"It's bad to kill people." Gohan stubbornly stood his ground.

"Why?"Raditz sounded more tired than curious.

"It's what Dad says," Gohan replied. He was angry, he didn't know what to do, and he feared invoking Raditz's fury again. So far, the he had not seriously injured Gohan, and it really seemed like he had no intention of doing so, but he was a murderer. He could potentially become far more violent. If only Gohan wasn't so confused! If he only was less afraid than angry, but what could he do about it?.

Raditz thumped him on the head. "That doesn't explain anything!" he shouted. "And he was wrong," The mention of his brother had made him even more sour and his patience was wearing thin.

"Now kill them before I change my mind," he threatened.

Gohan considered his options. The being was dying, and as far as he knew there was no saving them. And, if no one did anything, they would suffer a long and painful death. Yet he still shrunk away from the prospect of killing someone.

Killing was definitely bad. You did NOT kill people. That was wrong, wrong! You could kill animals, when you were hungry and you were going to eat them. Gohan had killed an animal yesterday; Raditz had brought one for him to practice on. It had already been wounded so it was safe.

Well, it wasn't that easy. Gohan still had difficulty putting it to death, but he did get a lot of food. He was finally able to satisfy his hunger too. Even Raditz seemed happy with him. He patted his head and told him he ‘did good,’ although earlier he had laughed at the trouble Gohan had with the animal. Even before that, he had killed squid-things in the stream, and, he supposed, clam-things as well. The latter had to be alive as well, but they didn’t move so he hadn’t thought much about it at the time.

Gohan recalled observing a wildcat in the forest back on Earth with his Dad. It had brought a small creature, maybe a bird, to its kittens. It had still been alive, and the mother let the kittens play with it and eventually kill it. Dad had explained the wildcat was teaching its young how to hunt. At this moment, Gohan could not get the image out of his head.

He didn't want to be forced to eat this type of alien again, or to be beaten as a punishment for not doing as he was told. A very tiny part of him, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, wanted Raditz to ruffle his hair and tell him he had done well again. He didn't know why; Raditz was in his eyes a terrible villain. Then he thought about how Mom and Dad would be so disappointed in him if he murdered some innocent person, even if it was a weird alien. But wouldn't they be disappointed as well if he let the alien suffer with no hope for survival?

He gathered a ball of energy in his hand like Raditz had taught him. He just wanted to protect both himself and the alien from more needless suffering. With feverish mental apologies to the dying being and to his parents, he fired a small blast.

He hit the alien in the eye. Brain and fluids splattered everywhere.

"See, it wasn't that hard." Raditz was by him and ruffled his hair. "I told you it's the same."

Gohan wanted to be alone. He didn't want Raditz's hand on his head. Except the part of him still wanted Raditz approval. The part that wanted to believe, wanted to be reassured that nothing bad had happened. That HE hadn't done anything bad.

Raditz peered down at him. "I promised you better meat, but let's clean you up first," he said, all too casually, and rubbed some of the brain matter from Gohan's bangs. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back and incinerated the corpse with an energy blast.

Gohan didn't feel so good. He followed Raditz numbly to the nearby stream. He wanted to get cleaned but somehow he couldn't coordinate his hands to do it. When Raditz asked him what was wrong with him, he said he was just exhausted. It was partly true, concentrating enough energy to kill certainly wore him out. Luckily, Raditz accepted the explanation and did not question him any further. He even helped Gohan clean up and assured him that he would feel better after eating something. Then Raditz took him to catch their next meal.

When Raditz finally let him alone and was out of hearing range, Gohan broke down. He could no longer pretend nothing had happened. He sat on the ground and cried really hard. Was there anything he could have done? The alien had been dying anyway, he had just released them from their suffering. There was nothing more he could have done in that situation. Nothing.

He was confused about whether or not he did the right thing, unsure of his role. He felt angry, but he didn't know where he should direct his anger. After all, he wasn't even quite sure what was making him angry. He was powerless in face of this new reality. He had to play along to survive, but for how long? He just wanted to go home.

*** Shai!kara was having the worse and most likely the last day of their life. Several days ago, half of their village managed to escape a fey attack on their dwelling and hid in the forest. They had built a camp along with some other survivors, determined to live through the invasion. But fate wouldn't allow it.

Their camp had been attacked. Shai!kara survived only because they were away collecting food. When they heard the assault, they immediately ran away as fast as possible. As much as they wanted to help the others, Shai!kara was no hero. What could they do anyway? But luck was not on their side either. The fey dropped down in front of them from the sky. They weren’t able to stop in time and crashed headlong into their enemy.

"You'd do nicely." The fey caught them and effectively prevented their fall. "Now, as long as you behave I won't hurt you,"

It was a terrifying creature, nearly two heads taller than Shai!kara or their tribe's people, and very muscular. Its body was furless, except for a long mane of thick, black hair. Its face was flat and only the nose stuck out. It was unsettling. Its gaze was especially frightening as its eyes showed mostly the whites. Truly it was one of the most demonic fey anyone could imagine.

Shai!kara was too panicked to struggle against it. The creature pinned them to its side with one mighty arm and took off into the sky, which caused them to abandon any thoughts of resistance whatsoever.

The giant fey took them where a smaller one waited.

"Now brat, you kill this fella here. We'll see how you fare. They are weaker than you, so there should be no problem. But be on your guard - scared creatures can be very dangerous." With that last remark, it released Shai!kara.

Shai!kara tried to assess their situation. They stood in front of the smaller fey, perhaps a foal, while the bigger one moved back. Shai!kara risked a glance at it. It was still observing them and its foal. Would it let them go if they tried to escape? They looked back at the smaller fey. It didn't look happy at all, but its stance seemed to show that it was preparing to attack. If that thing was indeed a foal, maybe those creatures were not supernatural and could be fought and defeated? Maybe, despite the magical ability to fly and kill with light, they were mortal. Shai!kara concluded they needed to kill the foal first if they wanted to survive this. Then maybe they had a chance with big one. But wouldn't the big one attack them when they fought the little one? They just had to take their chances and hope for the best.

The fey foal looked stressed, almost sick. It seemed so incredibly unfair to kill this creature to save their life. Hsha!!sari, Shai!kara's people, believed it was a sin to kill a foal or young of any kind. And Shai!kara was of that age when they could already have a foal of their own. It seemed abhorrent to kill one. But could they survive otherwise?

Shai!kara was by no means a fighter. Among their people they were regarded as weak and frail. But their opponent was a mere foal, surely even they could defeat the small thing? And then, maybe the opportunity to escape the adult ‘fey’ would present itself. Chances were slim but they were fighting for their life. Given the stakes, Shai!kara decided to fight and kill the foal to save their own life. Having made their decision, they attacked.

Gohan saw a scared alien. The being looked a lot like the first one of their species he saw. He would have hard time telling them apart if not for the fact this one was slightly smaller than the first one and their fur’s hue was warmer, more purplish, than bluish. But the patterns on clothing they wore and jewellery were different. Their eyes were dark, showing virtually no whites, and gentle, like the eyes of a deer. He didn’t want to fight them and he certainly didn’t want to kill them. He had killed a person before, and although he felt terrible about it, he was able to find some consolation in the fact that the person had been dying. He had just shortened their suffering. This was different. The person he was facing now was uninjured and if he let them get away, they could continue living.

He knew Raditz would punish him if he failed to kill the being and he would likely receive some small reward if he followed orders and managed to make a kill.

Raditz was probably going to kill them anyway. Did it really matter who did the deed, as long as the outcome was death?

But the thought of killing anyone didn’t sit well with Gohan. He didn’t want to be a murderer. In spite of that, he took up a fighting stance. He wanted to find the strength to stand up to Raditz... He really did.

Then the alien attacked Gohan. The two of them fought while Raditz merely watched.

Gohan felt small, even though his opponent wasn’t that large. His first beam attack missed. He did not know where to strike. Panicking, he punched and kicked where he could reach but it seemed he was getting hit more times than his opponent. For a moment, he thought he was going to be overpowered and he felt scared. Was he going to die? Raditz did not help, he just watched. Would he just let the alien kill Gohan? The thought was chilling. Gohan felt desperation and… his mind went blank for a moment, then...

...The deed was done.

Relief and triumph rushed to his head just for a moment. It was good to be alive. It was good to win. It was good to...

Gohan hung his head low and breathed heavily. It was in part due to exhaustion, and in part in an attempt to prevent himself from crying aloud. And in part in shame. Did he just think…

He was a murderer.

Raditz approached the cub and ruffled his hair. Something drew his attention, and he squatted to better see the cub’s face. The boy had tears in his eyes!

"Does your mother's species produce tears when they attack?" Raditz asked.

"I don't know," the boy answered meekly and rubbed the tears away.

"Better not, tears make your vision blurry," Some species displayed such physiological reactions to their own acts of aggression. Raditz had heard of it happening to Saiyans after especially harrowing battles and in cub’s limited experience, this skirmish must have counted as a hard fight. Once the boy became accustomed to fighting, the tears should stop.

He was worried at first, but then Gohan realized he wouldn’t be punished for crying - this time. It seemed Raditz did not comprehend Gohan's silent tears. To Gohan that was more frightening and somehow unjust than any punishment Raditz could have inflicted for weeping. In truth, Gohan could not grasp everything he felt at that moment. It was too much. Raditz thought the brat deserved recognition for his first unassisted kill: a name. He deserved it. Raditz wanted to give him a Saiyan name to show that he belonged among Saiyans.

He thought up several names he liked: Roké, Parsni and Cerne were good choices, but none of those seemed to fit. Raditz also liked ‘Manesca’ very much, but Manesca was a mad warrior and famous for excessive strength. No, Nappa and Vegeta would just laugh at that and mock both him and the boy. And it didn't 'fit' either. Well, the cub liked the name given to him by his parents and wanted to keep it, so at least he wouldn't have to get used to a new one.

"Anyway... good job Gohan," he said, ruffling the boy’s hair some more.

Gohan froze. Raditz had never used his name before! It should have made him happy, but now it just felt wrong. It didn't fit anymore. It belonged to the world of Gohan's Father and Mother.

He let Raditz ruffle his hair some more. He could hear promises of food. No doubt a reward for his deed. He felt dirty. Then Raditz said something about polishing his skills further. For once, he didn’t pay attention. He hoped Raditz hadn’t noticed. Fortunately, he was left alone soon after.

Gohan recalled how desperately he had wanted to keep his name, his human name. But now he wished that Raditz would change it. Then he wouldn't be Gohan, who had just killed an innocent person, but some other boy. Gohan would still be pure and untouched.

But Raditz said nothing about it. Now Gohan had to live through all of it. Gohan was responsible.

He didn’t want this. Any of this. He was a murderer. He was ashamed of himself. He thought, for the first time but not for the last, that even if his parents did somehow manage to find him they wouldn’t want him anymore. He thought he didn't deserve to go back home now. He wished that nothing had happened. That it was just a bad dream. He wanted to be home with his parents so much.

So many different emotions ran through him right now. He was furious at Raditz for taking him away from his family, for making him do awful things, and at himself for giving in and being so weak, at Vegeta for casting a shadow of terror over his life, and at the alien being he had just murdered. Even at his parents for not being around to protect him from it all. He had no idea what to do with all that rage, and where to direct it.

Gohan felt powerless, but at the same time he felt very afraid. What else was going to happen to him, and if he had murdered someone already what else would he do? He was afraid of emotions and situations that he did not know how to deal with. That fear bound him down. He felt shame, guilt and regret, all of which weighed him down and wore him out. He felt confusion. Confusion made him powerless.

He felt too tired even for crying. He went back to the pod and curled on the seat wishing the reality wouldn't hunt him in his dreams. 

Roké - (meaning: defiant, disobedient, unruly; inspiration: Eruca Sativa, also known as Rocket salad, Rucola and five or six different similar sounding names) a name of Raditz's older nest sister. She was second oldest child in the nest and sort of leader of children in Raditz's house. She was his primary hunting teacher and often carried him around when he was still too small to keep up.

Cerne - (meaning: a person, who can look at situation from many perspective to find solutions, an unorthodox thinker; inspiration: Medicago Sativa, commonly known as Alfalfa or Lucerne) a name of a hero of Saiyan stories. Cerne was a cunning warrior, who defeated enemies with wits and smart strategies rather than strength. Noted for medical knowledge. In some stories Cerne is pregnant or weaning a baby. Usually Cerne is referred with 'she' pronoun, but some tell the stories using 'he' pronoun. It is because Saiyan storytellers (which can be just anyone) try to achieve some form of identity with the hero of the story and gain heroic virtues (understood as excellency) in exchange. Of course other storytellers repeat the stories how they heard them.  

Note that the fact that Saiyans use gender-specific pronouns at all is due to the fact they use Universal Galactic Language, which is in this fic represented by English language. There were no gender-specific pronouns in original Saiyan language.

Parsni - (meaning: cheerful; inspiration Pastinaca Sativa or Parsnip) a name of Gine's friend. Fun personality. He was notable for liking machines and being a good tactician. He was successful warrior and well liked, even though strength wise he was average or below.  

Manesca - (meaning: fearless, undaunted; inspiration: Romanesco Broccoli) a berserker like warrior from popular Saiyan tales. Some stories identify Manesca as the Legendary Supersaiyan, other paint them as enemies (and as worthy opponents at that), but in most retellings they are not related in any way.

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