#Managing all of those effect layers are utter hell though

[aeriona]

Deep Grand Reef. (total drawing time: 11 hours, 5 minutes.)

Also a bonus meme under the cut because I couldn't help myself:

I'm sorry. I noticed it while moving layers around and he Haunted me.

[whump-a-la-mode]

I request a villain waking up to the hero taking care of them with a whole lot of fluffety fluff

If it’s fluff you want, it’s fluff you’ll get! I hope you like this. There’s the tiniest bit of angst, but mostly it’s just cotton candy levels of fluffiness.

CW//Mentioned building collapse, mentioned collars, wounds, grime, blood

“Hmmm hmmmm... Hmmm hm hm hmmm...”

The song was carried absentmindedly on soft lips, raising and lowering in pitch at random intervals.

“Hm hm hm...”

Soft and warm. Those were the only words that could possibly be considered appropriate to describe the world around Villain. Soft and warm... Soft and warm...

Something scratchy brushed through their hair in long, even strokes, moving to the tempo of the whimsical humming.

“Hm hm hm...”

“Hm hm...”

“Hm...”

Soft and warm. Soft and warm.

Wait a second.

In Villain’s dorm, there were no simple tunes, no soft things, no brushes through hair. No. Their dorm was the opposite of soft and warm! It was hard and cold and silent and-

Their eyes shot open. Facing them was not the drab gray they were so terribly used to, the sharp off-white of their ceiling not presenting itself either. No bolted-shut window, no steel door.

Where...

They jolted up, back straight as a peg. A sharp pain rattled their crown, jostling their jaw, as something sharp collided with the top of their head. Momentarily, it jumbled their brain inside their skull, the organ feeling to do a full 360 flip before resettling itself.

“Ow!” A voice that was very much not Villain’s own cried. “Way to tell me you woke up.”

The warm, soft thing behind them, pressing up against their back, moved and shuddered with the sound.

Villain tensed, scrambling forth, spinning around. This was a nightmare. At that moment, that fact was wholeheartedly and unabashedly decided. This was a horrid, unthinkable scenario that their rattled, overclocked mind had concocted to terrify them for one sadistic reason or another.

Because, because, because... Because there was no reason they could have been leaning up against Hero!

Their worst, most hated, most stupid, most utterly, foolishly noble nemesis, Hero!

“Okay.” They breathed. “I’m ready to wake up now, brain. I’m done, here. I’m good.”

Hero blinked.

Before bursting out in laughter.

They had a bedraggled look about them-- hair slick and stuck up, with clumps even appearing to have been torn out in places.

Vaguely, Villain remembered doing that, actually.

The rest of their body wasn’t any better. Fresh clothes tried, and failed, to hide skin, caked with blood and dirt and damp with sweat, carving lines through the baked-on filth.

A series of foggy memories seeped back into the villain’s mind like a dripping faucet as they looked back down at their own body. The crud staining them was just as apparent, even beneath clothes that felt to be right out of the dryer.

Clothes that were very much not theirs.

The throbbing bruise on their head-- they realized then that what they had banged it into had been the hero’s chin-- was only one in a choir of similar, forming wounds, seeming to scatter every inch of their skin.

Though they could not tell whose, someone’s blood had, in places, began to seep into the top layer of blankets.

Why... Where...

What?

“Alright, Villain.” Hero smiled, seeming to ignore their own split. “How much do you remember?”

How much did they remember?

How much-

The faucet opened, cold water pouring onto their hippocampus. Downtown, the fight. It had all happened so terribly fast, even as cliche as the fact sounded. A climatic battle, good and evil, nemesis and nemesis, head to head, all on top of the tallest skyscraper in the city. It was supposed to be a show! To show Hero’s ultimate downfall, the destruction of the light!

Instead...

They remembered, with vivid, technicolor clarity, the battle’s start. The sky, dancing with lights, with power, with show!

And...

“A building fell on me.” The words came out in a monotone.

“More like you fell through a building, bud.” Hero chuckled. “And you dragged me down with you!”

“You...”

“I’m fine.” An accusing finger was pointed at them. “You look like hell.”

“Do not!” Villain protested. “You look worse.”

“Well, which one of us dragged the other home?”

Their jaw dropped.

Their memory of the incident, had it truly occurred, was black was pitch. The fall must have sent them to unconsciousness, but...

“Yeah, okay, that’s a good question.” The villain shot. “Why am I- Is this your house?”

“This is my bedroom.”

“Where’s the stuffed animals, then?”

“Oh, shut up, I saved your life.”

“What did you actually do?”

The hero sighed, leaning back against their bed’s plush-padded headboard. Their gaze drifted to the ceiling, as though resistant to make eye contact as they spoke:

“When I got out of the rubble...” They cleared their throat. “When I got out from under the rubble, I saw your, um, your team. Their van. They were trying to find you, I think. But they didn’t know where you were. I did.”

“So...”

“So I dug you out of the rubble and took you to my house and gave you my clothes?”

Now it was Villain’s turn to blink in utter disbelief.

“Okay.” They took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. After fighting me-- you lost, by the way, you definitely lost-- You... saw my team coming to get me. So you effectively kidnapped me and brought me to your home?”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

“I...”

Their hand drifted upwards, to their neck. Though they could not see, dragging their finger over the skin, they could feel a thick ring, untouched by the rigors of dust or sweat. Like parking spots after a rainstorm-- dry despite surrounding destruction.

“Sorry.” Hero’s voice took on a more somber tone, though there was no apology to their voice, despite their words. “I took it off.”

Their collar.

Supervillain’s collar.

“Oh.” Was all they could manage. “Where is it?”

“A hundred feet down, at the bottom of the lake. You wanna, uh, lean back up against me, like you were? I was just getting the blood out of your hair. It’s really bad if that, um, dries up in there.”

“Yeah.”

Villain nodded, voice quieted and drained thoroughly of stark. Ignoring their own bruises, they scooted back to how they had been, sitting in between Hero’s thighs, shoulders against their chest.

One by one, the strokes of the hairbrush sent them to sleep.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Onyx tells Mc she’s pregnant. They hosts a party for everyone to announce of Onyx’s pregnancy. How they announce it and how everyone react are up to you!

Written by @evoedbd

“Hey babe. Welcome back. How was your outing with Na-” the cheer fell from Cali’s voice, as heavy and rapidly as a brick dropped from a skyscraper. Her heartbeat picked up, even as the feeling of led seeped into every limb, dragging her consciousness towards what felt like a tar pit. Sticky, dooming, encasing.

“Onyx?” She called, brow furrowing as she tried to reconcile the woman who had walked through the door with the usual upbeat, unstoppable Onyx Wren. This woman appeared ashen, pearlescent white save for the usual shadings of her makeup, and the veins running blue beneath her icy skin. Long, flowing blonde hair hung in clumps, tangled around the streaks of meadow green like weeds attempting to devour the most beautiful flowers. Where life had once shone in oceanic green eyes, now there was a dullness, a glazing that only emphasized emptiness. Worse, shoulders which could bare the weight of the world slumped, chained down along with the woman’s feet. No. Onyx’s feet weren’t chained down, they were dragging, as if the act of taking a stride was too much to comprehend yet the need for familiarity and comfort drove the zombie like body onwards.

“Are you ok?” A questioned filled with trepidation. Already, Cali could see that Onyx Wren was absolutely not alright. She could feel it. Sticky hands of a hoard all dragging at her through the bond, making the world entirely too much.

Internally, she fought a war, crossing a list off silently in her search for solutions. What could have hurt Onyx this badly?

A fight with Nahara? Doubtful. Onyx loved that woman, and Nahara had earned that affection. Her hugs were too perfect, rejuvenating and secure. How Cali imagined sinking into a pool of warmed honey or melted chocolate might feel like.

Dorran? Oh, Cali had so many things she could say about him, respect for the dead be damned. Cali was absolutely convinced, out of everyone who had ever existed or ever would, that he was the most deserving the title of Jerk. Lord Jerkington the Gaslighting abuser, the third. Anybody who could do half of what he had done to Onyx whilst claiming to love her, whilst she trusted her body and soul to his romance… Cali couldn’t conceive a punishment fitting enough his horrendous crimes. Her anger had nowhere to go. No conclusion. Nothing dark and despicable enough to bring justice or pay penance. All she could do was vow never to allow Onyx to suffer that ever again.

Vinca? That was delicate ground too, and not an unrealistic conclusion. Cali’s personal grudges aside, after-all Onyx’s twin had turned Cali into a well of supernatural energy with the potential to unleash hell on Earth, Vinca had played her villainous role well. Cali still could trace the numerous scars across Onyx’s body, from throat to gut, which Vinca had left. Also, Vinca had technically gutted Onyx, though she had been possessed by Nizha at the time. Cali wasn’t too sure she could ever erase that image from behind her closed eyes. Or her nightmares.

“I’m pregnant.” Onyx’s voice was so small, so broken and confused. If Cali hadn’t been watching and listening intently, she might have mistaken those words for a breath. Or the aircon.

“… you’re…” The word fell from Cali’s lips on a shocked breath. Well. Babe had definitely been the wrong pet name to use. Suddenly nothing made sense. Her stomach fell out yet her body seemed ready to float to the ceiling, all whilst her nerves suffered a rapid fire mix of dreadful numbness and prickling tingles flowing across her skin to match the static ringing in her ears and pinging around her head.

“I’m so sorry! Please don’t be mad. I’ll be good! I w-won’t disobey o-o-or mess up.” The panic in Onyx’s voice cut Cali to the bone. Onyx fell to her knees, arms wrapped around her abdomen and torso as her shoulders curled inwards. She trembled, green eyes gazing up at Cali as if she were a terrifying Goddess preparing to render judgement upon a defiler. Cali shuddered. Who would want such worship as what Onyx was offering in the moment? Senseless, all-consuming fear? In that moment, Cali realised she could never be an abuser. There was no power in Onyx’s terror, only revulsion. Revulsion that Onyx felt she had to be subservient like this. That her trust had ever been so broken that her default was to cower like a beaten dog, still lovingly licking its own blood from the master’s knuckles.

“I didn’t mean for this, I swear. I-I ca-”

Cali couldn’t listen anymore.

“Onyx. Hey, hey, hey. Shhh, it’s ok. Breathe with me, sweetheart. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She cooed, collapsing to her own knees before Onyx. The moment she could reach, Cali gently cupped her hands around Onyx’s elbows, tenderly guiding the smaller woman a little closer.

“Reach for me through the bond, how do I feel?” Imploring words were accompanied by every joyful image Cali could summon at that moment. The mewls of kittens, the softness of a puppy’s fur. Seeing Onyx recognise her, even as a dragon. Flying. Watching Onyx fly, be it with the wings of a dragon or across a tightrope in human form. Freedom, beauty, power. Family.

Cali’s heart picked up a marching sprint, beating so rapidly she was positive someone could visibly see her pulse throbbing in her throat if they spared a glance. Pregnant meant baby, which meant children. Onyx. Baby. Onyx. Baby. Onyx’s baby… each time Cali managed to conceive the sentence her heart skipped another beat, beat faster and faster until she was positive her heart would burst. Onyx was having a baby. An actual baby!

“You’re… you’re not mad? You’re happy? B-”

“Onyx. You’re pregnant! How could I not be excited?” Cali began as she lured Onyx to her feet. The former Envy assassin surrendered herself to Cali’s guidance, relaxing even in her confusion. Cali was incredibly careful, her touch remaining delicate, as if she might taint the innocence within Onyx if she moved a single finger incorrectly. Yet, there was also no fear to Cali’s touch. She knew Onyx, just as she knew her own breath. She offered comfort, unconditional support, even without having uttered the words.

“I’m nervous too.” She confessed, finally lowering herself and Onyx onto the couch.

“I mean there are so many things to think about. Is it safe? I mean, what effects on the baby will your dragon side have? Will you lay an egg? I mean, can your body even handle that in human form? Will you be human form for the birth? Who even is the father?”

“I didn’t cheat! I’d never do that to you. Please, you have to believe me.” Onyx’s frantic tone was matched by frantic hands which desperately clutched at Cali. She clung to Cali’s forearm, both forcing Cali to remain close whilst also preparing to defend herself. Green eyes filled with tears, a mix of panic and guilt, dappled with layers of confusion. Despite all of that, Cali saw sincerity. She felt the truth of those words as if they were her own heartbeat.

“Onyx, babe… you died. You died in my arms and came back as a Dragon. Cheating never even crossed my mind. There are some insane magical circumstances that my medical training doesn’t cover. Even if you had cheated or if something had happened, I wouldn’t be angry. I wouldn’t be him. You love me, I believe it with all my heart. Nothing anybody can say or do will make me love you or this baby any less.”

“I didn’t cheat.” Onyx reiterated; her voice much softer yet no less vehement. Her hands surrendered their grasp on Cali, allowing the Asian woman to weave her fingers through Onyx’s. The warmth of her callused hands was enough to earn a soft sigh, though neither woman could confirm who it was from.

“I believe you. D-did somebody hurt you? Onyx, babe, did somebody force himself on you?” The words burnt Cali’s tongue. Bile threatened to rise in her throat. The thought of someone doing that to Onyx. Without the guise of a relationship to force his will, to satiate perverted desires… Cali couldn’t… she couldn’t even imagine it, until she could. From a mental blank, to images of a broken Onyx. To memories of her screams morphed into something entirely different, fitting a different scenario. It was enough to make Cali tremble with fear, revulsion and a rapidly rising tide of rage.

“Nothing happened. Nobody r-” Onyx hesitated, unable to utter the devastating word flashing in Cali’s worst fears.

“- did that.”

“Thank goodness. Then, do you know how this happened?” The gentle question was delivered after a breath of utter relief. Knowing Onyx was safe from that abuse, safe from one of the most brutal of Earthly horrors mankind had ever weaponized, helped untangle the tension in Cali’s aching chest. Her heart stopped seizing in her chest, resuming its marathon sprint.

“I don’t know. Nahara said something about consequences and the past.”

“Rebirth. That was when she was talking about the bond of deceased Envy and the barer of the bite. The possibility of physical manifesta-“ Cali stopped dead. Her mind leapfrogged over the words, gathering them into a net of logic so obscure yet so plausible it felt as if she’d been punched unconscious and now was waking up. Waking to a world where mortal logic no longer applied, and the furthest dreams could come true.

“Oh fuck… Onyx..?” Cali didn’t know if she spoke, only that Onyx’s face pinched in concern. No, not concern. Fear. The murkiness reclaimed clear beauty, obscuring it for all who wished to bathe. It nearly broke Cali to see Onyx shrink, yet her small voice shattered Cali’s heart into smithereens; sent those shards digging into every vein until Cali’s body throbbed with how wrong it was.

“Please don’t get angry.” Onyx whispered, flinching as if expecting Cali to scream. Cali couldn’t. All she could do was go over the basics of Nahara’s theories. A physical manifestation of the bond between Envy, Deceased and Barer of the bite. An echo of the past. The lost reclaimed as new.

“Mine? Ours? Is this..?” Cali begged, she wasn’t and never would be afraid to admit it. Such a glistening possibility was at her fingertips, and she dared reach, hoping against hope itself that the impossible had become even the improbable. A thousand to one? Hell, even a million to one was more than enough. Cali would take any and all chance. Hers. Theirs. A chance to see how she and Onyx may appear a thousand years down the line, a notch in the human species. Proof they had existed, that their coupling had existed. Cali wasn’t dumb enough to consider a baby proof of love, not alone, but also it was. It would be. No matter whether or not that million to one chance was recognized.

“I- I don’t know. It’s possible, probably. I mean, magic? I need to talk to Nahara to find out more. I… it was overwhelming to hear I actually was pregnant and can’t let the dragon out. I just needed time. Needed to talk to you. It could be a manifestation of our bond, or it is something from the past.”

“Dorran.” The name fell from Cali’s lips like a bullet dropped from a tower into the cooling lakes. Oh, how it longed to be thrown like garbage, just as the darkest parts of Cali longed to throw the actual man into a trash compactor and hear him squeal.

“This could be his baby too.” She voiced her conclusion. Even as the words escaped, she felt no change in her heart. There was… she hated the man, she hated the power he had abused over Onyx, just as she hated the idea of him continuing to. Yet, for the baby? For that possibility? Nothing. No hatred, no resentment. No matter how she searched for it. She couldn’t confess how deeply that shocked her. Emotionally, everyone always hoped that they’d accept their partner’s children as their own, but the actuality of that often defied dreams. It was a rare person who could accept such a thing, even in Cali’s situation. To find herself even potentially one of them was humbling, too much, too quickly. Diversion needed.

“That’s one hell of a choice. A dead man, unknown entity, or a key to the gates of hell.” Cali made the understatement of the century after a quiet hissing whistle through her teeth. Remarkably, her tone remained as light as she intended the delivery to be, as if she was discussing what to order for lunch.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Le-” Cali couldn’t even finish the word. Her body moved on instinct, launching into Onyx’s space so that she could gather the smaller woman into her arms. Leave? Onyx couldn’t leave! No, her brain quickly caught up and corrected her internal malfunction. Onyx’s voice had been so small, the chirp of a bird compared to the roar of a dragon. Regardless, Cali was determined to provide shelter, to cage the willing Onyx within her loving embrace.

“Onyx, you died, I thought I’d never see you again. That I might never have another moment with you, even as you were reforming. Now, I’ll get to watch a baby Onyx Wren grow up! How could I be angry? I don’t care if this child is Dorran’s. Hell, even the Devil himself could be the father and I wouldn’t care. I want to be with you.”

“Even with a baby? A baby you didn’t plan, who m-might not even be yours.” Onyx’s words were serious, more so than any Cali had ever heard escape her gentle lips. They were warning, they were a siege to push Cali away even as Onyx hoped to keep her close. It was the last offering, the final out. Cali understood. Her answer here would shape her life. This answer couldn’t be about comforting Onyx, no matter her urges. It had to be truthful, no matter the pain, no matter…

“Yes.” It was the easiest answer Cali had ever given in her life.

“Onyx, we aren’t naturally biologically compatible for reproduction.” Cali’s obvious assessment earned a watery snort from Onyx.

“Whenever I daydreamed of having children, they were always yours. I was already committed to being a mother to any pet or child you had, to being with you. I want this baby to be ours, I want that more than anything.” Cali had to pause, to actually breathe and let her words sink in. Her chest hurt from how hard her heart was pounding, for how she longed for Onyx to want the same things.

“I’m here and ready to be whatever you need me to be for you both. If you don’t want me to be there as the other parent, I can be the cool aunt. Or a friend. Or a babysitter. Anything, Onyx.” Cali concluded, laying her offering out for Onyx to pick through. Silence dominated the room, save for Cali’s hurried breathing and the pounding of matching heartbeats. Or two heartbeats. Did baby have a heartbeat yet? How far along was Onyx? She made a mental note to ask.

“If you want to be, you know, their mom, then I’d love that too.” Onyx finally broke the silence with a soft yet sure voice, a shy smile tugging on her lips. Cali couldn’t help it, she leapt to her feet, letting forth an excited cheer. Finally, all her nerves burst forth, erupting in her version of a triumphant roar. This was HER family. Hers. Hers, hers, hers!

“There’s nobody else I’d rather raise a baby with. Nobody has ever supported me like you. I just don’t want to take your life away, or be a burden.” Onyx continued, reaching up to tuck some of her chaotic hair out of her face.

“Onyx, this isn’t about supporting you regardless of my own feelings. You’re not taking my life away; you’re giving me a life to fight for. A family. Onyx, our family! You’re having a baby, Onyx! It’s a BABY Onyx! Baby! Yours. Maybe mine. Maybe ours. I feel… just feel me, Onyx! Baby! You’re having a baby!” Cali tried to remain calm and mature, she truly did, yet the urge to move overcame her senses. She paced back and forth, using her entire body to emphasize her points. Big, sweeping gestures of her arms accompanied her escalating excitement, turning her into a goofy rendition of a car yard inflatable.

“Yeah. A baby. You… Sweetheart, can you sit down? Just watching you is tiring.” Onyx’s request was accompanied by a summery laugh, one which calmed Cali for all but three seconds. Then, it was back to pacing, phone whipped out of the pocket of her jean shorts so that she could begin to compose her list.

“Onyx, BABY! A baby! Our baby! We have to tell the others! I’m sorry but no more training for you! Also, none of the trash Darius calls food. We should probably look into supplements too, so that the baby is as healthy as possible. Should I call a dietitian for a food plan? And materials! Are you going to make your own maternity clothes? I got paid this week so I could totally go get some fabrics if you te-”

“Y-you want to tell the others?” Onyx cut in, alarm flooding her tone. Cali froze for a second, recognizing the way Onyx’s surprised voice dipped. Oh, Cali realized, she was behaving entirely differently to anything Onyx had experienced. To how Dorran had reacted. That was enough to have Cali’s internal beast snarling, hating how the past continued to hurt. Dorran had insisted on secrecy, on punishing Onyx. Increasing her training, increasing his bullying. Afterall, that had been cheaper than birth control, or a medically safe… Cali couldn’t finish the thought.

“Of course! Onyx, you’re pregnant! This is like one of the happiest days of my life! Top five, for sure! I’m trying to think of everything we need so that we can be ready for this baby. Like, we need to look into our insurance. I don’t think my workplace insurance covers sexy mamma’s who can turn into dragons. Or Assassins. Is there supernatural insurance I need to know about? Are there any doctors for, well, non-normal human pregnancies? Are there any magical medical guides for this? And birthing classes. We need to look into those too!”

“We…” The pondering tone Onyx used broke Cali out of her packing, leading her to look up from her phone.

“… Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s just sinking in, you know? It’s really nice to hear you say it. It sounds right.” Onyx explained, her face taking on a dreamy grin. She was so beautiful, glistening in the afternoon sun through the skyscraper windows. Even messy, Cali couldn’t think of anything more captivating than Onyx. Not the sirens of legend, not the most handsome of men. She doubted if the entire troupe, who were the most attractive people she knew, walked in naked that she’d be able to take off of Onyx.

“It feels right.” She confessed in a soft tone, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. The light in Onyx’s eyes… Cali had never seen something so pure. Green, like gazing up the sun through the underside of a wave. The gleam in them was more varied than a kaleidoscope of colours; brighter than diamonds. She had to look away, while her brain still had some function. There was so much that needed to happen, too many lists to write. Lists! That was a good place to start. Cali could do lists. She helped with stock intake, so a simple list on her phone would be a piece of cake! Oh, and her mother! She had to text her mother. Maybe there were some spare books…

“So, I’m going to text mom about getting some medical books out of storage. I’m pretty sure we didn’t sell all of them. They might have some more details on pregnancy. We have to come up with a way to justify everything, maybe we should discuss giving her sight. I’d prefer not telling her we’re fighting demons though. She’d absolutely spit if her daughter in-law was caught in that! Especially since you’re carrying her grandchild! I’d never live it down if I let you fight in your condition. It’d be “Cali, why are you making your girlfriend do everything? She’s pregnant! My grandbaby needs to grow!””

“Grandchild?” Onyx interrupted Cali’s exaggerated impression of her mother. Gone was the kaleidoscope, gone were the diamonds. The wave had crashed down, sending Onyx flailing into the wild tides of her worst fears without anything to hold her.

“She won’t hate me? She wouldn’t ever believe this child could be yours without knowing everything. She’ll assume I cheated. She’ll think I broke your trust and you’re just standing by me because you’re, well, you. You’re too good to walk away from somebody as broken as me.”

“Onyx, I love you. You are the most… I can’t put it into words. You are my… My light. You are not broken, Onyx. You are a literal dragon. Fierce, strong and beautiful. I am so in love with you that I cannot picture my life without you. This feels like my child already. You’ve only just told me and already I feel as if my heart will burst. Surely you can feel how much I already love them.” Cali almost pleaded, kneeling before Onyx. The current Envy assassin reached out, laying a single hand over Onyx’s quivering knee. Cali could feel everything, the tidal wave of anxiety and fears striking so hard and fast that she was almost physically knocked over. She countered, her mind parrying and weaving.

Pizza in a secret alleyway shop, the way hot cheese melted in her mouth, or the strings hanging from Onyx’s smiling lips. Little hands reaching, trying to steal pineapple as Onyx laughed. This was happiness. Love. Safe, secure, keeping their baby proceeded against her chest. So small, yet inspiring something so large. She had to protect, she needed to. Protect both the joys of her life.

The simple concept of the future flowed through their bond, a shield for Onyx to seek shelter behind. Cali herself was blown away by the intensity of her emotions for a distant possibility.

“I can.” Onyx breathed; tone full of wonder.

“I don’t know why I keep questioning you. You’re always kind and sweet. “

“People have hurt you, Onyx. I’d rather you question me a thousand times, a million times, than ever feel unsafe with me. I love you, and Mom can see how much more me I am with you in my life.” Cali insisted, fixing Onyx with an encouraging look before continuing.

“We had the talk when I told her I was bi. About if I ended up with a girl. We talked again after she met you, officially that is. I told her as long as I was with you, at least one grandchild would not be biological. If we even had children. She fully supports my choices and will love this baby with all her heart. She’ll probably spoil them rotten no matter what we say. She already loves you too! You’re the favourite daughter. She’s going to be so excited for her grandchild. Be prepared for a LOT of baby onesie- OH, this one’s cute! Onyx look!” Cali tried to remain serious, she truly did. Yet, curiosity had taken hold and her thumb had all but developed a mind of its own. Soon, she found herself glancing down at her phone, only to see a lovely pastel themed website, filled with baby onesies. Upon spotting a bear on the third row, she excitedly turned her phone to Onyx, which earned an actual squeal of delight.

“Oh my god, that looks like a little Ripley onesie!” Onyx cooed excitedly, leaning closer to support the phone. She couldn’t help but internally swoon over the adorable little bear onesie, complete with little pink pads on the feet. The little hood with adorable little ears, and the stomach patch. The tail, which concealed the buttons for easy changing.

“Right? I’m buying it! Ohh, it comes in purple! Should I get a little leopard?” Cali declared, reclaiming her phone and swiftly adding two versions of the bear to the cart. When Onyx didn’t respond, she paused, turning her gaze to the expectant mother.

“Onyx? Are you ok? Don’t you like them?” Cali asked, her voice going quieter. Once more, Onyx looked so small, trembling in the face of everything. Overwhelmed, Cali realized. Onyx was entirely overwhelmed.

“Cali. They’re both adorable. I’m just scared. How can you be sure Joyce will be ok with this?”

“Err, It’s my mom. She’ll just be thrilled to have a grandchild, no matter if they are biological or not.” Cali responded, unable to fully put into words how she knew. It was simple. It was her mom. Her mom who had supported her throughout life. Her interest in extreme sports, every bump, break and bruise. Her mom had been the first signing her casts, and selling the demon contraptions that damaged her daughter. When Cali’s father had walked out, her mom had been there, fighting to support a child emotionally and financially whilst she herself fell apart. Through teenage heartbreaks. When Cali hadn’t gotten a date for prom, it was her mother who had shoehorned her into a suit and driven her there. When Cali had finally come out as bisexual, her mom had been the first one demanding to know what type of girls Cali liked, gossiping about the boys Cali had only ever expressed interest in.

“But what if they come out with wings? Or, you know, not human?”

“Aside from me being worried how you’ll push that out of a hole the size of a lemon?” Cali questioned with a blink.

“Cali!” Onyx squealed in a mix of disbelief and horror. Her hands came up to her face, covering her suddenly flaming cheeks as she let forth an ungodly groan. Cali couldn’t help but be reminded of Ripley, how the bear concealed her muzzle when Onyx flew across the tightrope.

“Oh god, I don’t want to think about what its going to do to my… well, you know.”

“You’ll still be gorgeous, even if things are a bit different. You know, when I picture mom you, you’re always stunning. I can’t help but think our daughter will be scared her boyfriends will run off with her sexy mamma. You’ll turn into the sexiest MILF.” Cali purred, flopping onto the couch beside Onyx once again with what she hoped was a seductive grin. Strands of shaggy brown hair fluttered everywhere, sticking to Cali’s face in the most unflattering of ways. If asked, Cali would absolutely blame her uncooperative hair for her failed delivery, despite her history of appearing more like a vaguely romantic crab than seductive. Somehow, her dorky display calmed Onyx, judging by how tensed shoulders finally relaxed, and the show-stopping smile returned to her lips.

“That’ll be you, Sweetheart.” She purred in return, nuzzling closer. Cali’s phone fell to the couch, forgotten as the Envy assassin wrapped her girlfriend up in her arms. Both sighed. Everything was right with the world again, at least for a few moments.

“Mmmhmmm, agree to disagree. If our baby is born anything but human, then we tell mom the whole entire truth and teach her how to babysit. The troupe can’t always be around when we need naps, so mom will be happy to have a chance to spoil her grandkid rotten. Besides, she raised me, a dragon will be nothing her brooms of vengeance cannot handle.”

“But, what if the troupe hate me? I can’t help you guys like this.”

“You can’t turn into a dragon because you’re pregnant. That means you’re vulnerable, not useless.” Cali pointed out, giving Onyx an affectionate squeeze around the shoulders.

“Nitza will be after me. She’ll want me, and the baby.”

“I’ll die before I let anybody touch my family.” Cali growled; all traces of her humanity lost in a snarl vicious enough to rival any demon. She felt the rage bubbling, thicker than molten lava in the cradle of a volcano. It consumed, burning through her rationality until she couldn’t tell where her own protective rage ended and Onyx’s began. Onyx may be the dragon, yet Cali’s entirely human body produced sounds to rival Onyx’s alternate form. The former Envy assassin reached out, wrapping her own hand around Cali’s clenched fist, wiggling her fingers between Cali’s until the current Envy had to relax her fist. Had to let Onyx in.

“Ripley and I will protect you, we can take craving shifts! It’ll mean I won’t be on the streets with the troupe, but that does’t mean we can’t both help out here more. We can watch Avi, which will be awesome practice for baby. I can keep gear up to scratch, work on the bikes and you can have more time to design. I know your fingers must be itching to do something creative.”

“They are…” Onyx sighed l, seemingly content to have settled Cali’s rage. The blonde tucked her feet up onto the couch, barely pausing to kick her sneakers off before she wiggled her toes in silent satisfaction. Cali couldn’t help but tighten her arm around Onyx, smiling when Onyx responded by leaning into Cali’s shoulder, forehead buried in chaotic hair.

“but the others will be out fighting while I’m stuck here. It feels like hiding away and doing nothing.” Onyx trailed off, tensing. The sun set over beautiful greens when Onyx closed her eyes, the bedazzling piercing through her cheek acting like the moon across the skies of her expressions. For a moment, she trapped the soft, delicate flesh of her lower lip between gleaming teeth, as if gathering the courage to speak.

“I keep hearing Dorran.” The whispered confession had the dragon within Onyx roaring with rage, something which echoed through the bond. Cali shuddered, brows furrowing as spots took over her vision. For that brief moment she could feel it, the war within Onyx. The uncertainty and doubt mixed with rage. The latter, Cali empathized with. It burned just as brightly within her own heart, feeding into a loop of fury that promised to spiral out of control. Cali didn’t let it, she couldn’t.

Soft feathers, like laying on a marshmallow. The warmth of a spa day, the relaxation. Sticky and wet along the side of her head, into her hair. The rasp of an impossibly large tongue. Laughter. Pride. Love. The certainty of a promise.

“Ignore everything he told you.” Cali urged, barely keeping her opinion to herself. Now was not the time for her to rant about how pissed she was at her girlfriend’s ex.

“Onyx, you aren’t hiding away doing nothing. Not only are you holding a literal dragon back, you’re growing a person! Or a dragonling. You are doing the hardest job in the world. You’re creating a little Onyx! You’re nurturing and providing a safe place for baby to grow. You’re growing a life, Onyx, and sustaining them until they can sustain themselves. Even when you sleep, your body will be working. For nine months, you never get a break. That is way more exhausting than fighting demons for an hour. Can you imagine Cal’s face if he snarks at you? You can be like “Bitch, I grew a nerve cluster today, I’m currently working on a kidney.”

“Sweetheart… You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” There was no laughter in Onyx’s voice, despite the glee taking spark in her eyes. Genuine awe was slathered across her face, radiating until Cali could feel the accompanying emotions through the bond. The littler woman untangled herself from her partner, reaching out to take Cali’s hands for a few moments before her cheeks tinged pink. Without a word, Onyx lured Cali closer, placing the mechanic’s hands over her pale abdomen.

“Nup. I’m scared too, and excited. I just know that you’re my everything, and we’ll figure this out together.” Cali’s words were soft, whispered into the stillness they found themselves submerged in. Cali’s hands were burning, her palms prickling with the tingling heat as she processed what she was doing. Caramel and milk, that was the closest things Cali could associate to the swirl of their different skin colours. Her fingers looked so dark compared to Onyx, casting her in an exotic light, or perhaps Onyx in a mystical one. The duet of tones was dreamlike, earning the largest smile as Cali finally processed the meaning of the gesture. She stared, illogically fearing her callused hands might hurt Onyx and the baby. A breath, accompanied by trembling muscles the few moments before Cali surrendered and placed her hands flat against Onyx’s belly. It was unbelievable! Onyx had barely put on any weight, just enough to be barely noticeable, yet suddenly her body felt entirely new. The definition of her stomach was still there, all lithe muscle and sublime softness, yet there was more too. A curve, small enough to be imagination yet large enough for Cali’s hands to trace. To cup. To protect from the world. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill down her swollen cheeks as her smile grew large enough to rival the Cheshire cat.

“Oh, names! We need to start thinking about names!” Cali added enthusiastically, blinking away her tears. This was her future, sitting just beneath the palms of her hands. A little Wren growing, expecting them to have the perfect name. Cali began to panic. What name could be enough for their baby? Forget names, what title best fit until they decided? The baby was too clinical. Baby had that familiar quality Cali was looking for, but also couldn’t be the name they used forever.

“But I’m barely even showing yet.” Onyx playfully protested, bringing her hands to rest over Cali’s, holding them to her belly. Love. It was so pure, so overpowering. Cali lost it. Her tears began to trail down her cheeks, accompanied by little sniffles as she looked hopefully up to Onyx. Every hope and dream she had flooded the bond, sweeping them both away on a tide so impossibly sweet that the real world dared not invade. Even through their sniffles and tears, Cali laughed, appraising Onyx on a particularly important fact.

“It’s never too early to start thinking! Trust me, it’ll be the first thing my mother asks.”

[the-trashy-phoenix]

Supernatural season 8 review (part 2)

Link to part 1:

Season 8 is far way better than season 7, and overall one of the best seasons of Supernatural, because in my opinion it brings a lot of new and positive elements to the show, even if it has some flaws (like episode 08x04, I'm sorry but what was that?).

We left Dean and Castiel in purgatory, which from, one year after they got in, Dean escapes with a vampire called Benny (08x01), and reunites with Sam who has retired from hunting and started living a life with a woman, Amelia, who he has already broken up with. The relationship between the brothers is already strained because of Sam (who didn't look for him or for Kevin, who was captured by Crowley), and will eventually have its ups and downs throughout the season. Although I would understand why Sam wanted to live a normal life at this point (especially since everyone he knew died or disappeared), I don't think he should have left Dean in purgatory without looking for him (or for Kevin). They eventually find him and discover that there's also a demon's tablet that could send the demons to hell and close its gates forever, so that becomes their primary mission in season 8. Kevin then has to hide throughout the season to translate the tablet and to avoid being caught again by Crowley, the main enemy of the season. We discover many new aspects of his personality and life (such as his relationship with his mom, who appears in episode 08x02 and is a total badass), but also an evolution, from the terrified student to a prophet who no longer fears even Crowley. The first time I watched Supernatural Kevin was one of my favorite characters, perhaps also due to the fact that he was younger than everyone else and that he was vaguely almost my age, and even today I am fond of him, mainly because I love his character and because I am sorry that he had to live this life against his will.

The first episodes of the season contain a series of flashbacks showing the time the brothers were separated, Sam living a new life with Amelia and Dean in purgatory with Benny and Castiel. While I loved Dean's flashbacks, I admit that those who showed Sam's life with Amelia didn't excite me that much. I never really liked the relationship between the two, perhaps because I never liked Amelia as a character herself (she didn't pass on much to me), plus it allowed Sam to ignore all the problems that I think he should have dealt with in this case. The only thing I liked was being able to see Sam living a normal life, without the need to worry about saving more lives. I also think Sam's behavior throughout his time with Amelia was correct, especially when his husband came back, while I think Amelia should have been more determined and not have left Sam without knowing precisely what she wanted.

The period in purgatory, on the other hand, fascinates me particularly: the fact that it's focused on Dean, my favorite character, or that the dynamics between Dean, Benny and Castiel were much more intriguing made me probably wish there were more flashbacks like that. I forgot how much I appreciated Benny's character: it initially seems that he doesn't care about Dean and that he just wants it to get back to earth, but in latest episodes, especially in the period on earth, we notice how much he cares about him, so that he sacrifices himself to save Sam. We also learn more about him and how, even though he's a vampire, he doesn't want to hurt any human (and the thing I appreciated the most is the fact that he didn't let himself be corrupted by returning to life on earth, proving to be really good). Especially because of Sam and Dean's conflicts over having a vampire as a friend (which actually goes against Dean's usual ideals) Benny and Dean have no way of seeing each other that much on earth and Benny realizes that there's nothing left to stick him to that place (and that's why he decides to stay in purgatory once he saves Sam). Although I don't consider their relationship as strictly romantic as many do (though the basics were there), I've always enjoyed Benny’s relationship with Dean and I was sorry not to see it grow and develop (maybe even in something more, also because the parallels with the relationship between Sam and Amelia are quite present and the breaking up phase was very evident even for Dean, besides Sam, as Charlie makes us notice in episode 08x11, one of the two episodes in which she appears, along with the episode 08x20, and in which the relationship with the brothers, and especially with Dean, progresses to such an extent that she becomes a sister to both of them).

Another evolution of relationships is found between Dean and Castiel. The two end up in purgatory together, but Castiel escapes Dean immediately and he spends a lot of time that year (also with Benny) looking for the angel. Once found, we discover that he had avoided Dean to keep him away from the Leviathans and that Dean had prayed to Castiel every night to try to find him. There are several elements that make the dynamics between the two even more special: the fact that Dean desperately looked for him because he didn't want to leave without him, the joy of finding him again, the terror of finding out that Castiel had avoided and ignored him, and the relief of understanding that he had done so only to protect him add layers of depth to the relationship. When Dean can't save Cas, the guilt haunts him until Castiel shows up in front of him. We find out that Castiel wanted to stay in purgatory as punishment for doing all that damage in the past and that Dean thought he hadn't done enough to help him get out. At this point in the series I think there are at least some scenes that involve a possible outlet in a relationship that goes beyond just friendship. The most obvious moment is certainly in episode 08x17, a scene at the height of a series of events that strictly concern Castiel and his relationship with heaven. He returns from purgatory thanks to the angel Naomi, who puts him under her control, without him knowing it, to spy on the Winchesters especially to find the angel tablet, who could send the angels to heaven forever. Dean, suspicious from the first moment Castiel returns without knowing how, realizes that the angel is not okay and when the two find the tablet he tries in every way to prevent Castiel from taking it. The most shocking element is the fact that Naomi trained him in heaven to kill copies of Dean in such a way that, if necessary, he would also do so in reality. In fact, it looks like Castiel, who is totally controlled by Naomi, has no mercy on Dean and is willing to kill him, but, after an open-hearted speech and the famous "I need you" Dean utters, Castiel frees himself from Naomi's control, spares Dean and cures him. Now, it's indisputable that at "What broke the connection?" we would all answer "Castiel's love for you, Dean", but probably the most appropriate question would be "What kind of love?". From the point of view of a person who loves Destiel, I think Castiel still doesn't really realize the emotions he feels, but that certainly the form of love he feels for Dean comes close to being romantic, more than anyone else. The most obvious thing that makes me notice it is the fact that Naomi chose Dean for Castiel's training, and I think she did because if Castiel was able to kill Dean he would easily kill anyone else. I remember when I was fifteen years old, watching this scene for the first time and not shipping Destiel that much, this moment got me thinking. Castiel, however, once back in himself still takes the tablet and hides it from Dean, not trusting what he could do. Dean, when the two meet again, shows all his disappointment at knowing that Cas doesn't trust him, once again showing how much he cares about the angel. Luckily, the two manage to make peace and collaborate until the last episode, 08x23.

Also in episode 08x17 we meet Meg and, thanks to a conversation with Sam, in which he talks about the love he feels for Amelia, we understand that she feels something for Castiel. Probably if Destiel didn't exist I wouldn't mind seeing more of their relationship, but unfortunately Meg is killed a few minutes after that confession.

Castiel's main purpose during the course of season 8 is to redeem himself from the damage caused previously, and especially to help heaven return as it once was. That's why he lets himself be controlled by Naomi more easily and tricked by Metatron, who appears towards the end of the season and plans to bring all the angels out of heaven, making Castiel believe that they are closing the gates of heaven once and for all. Metatron makes him complete three trials, the last of which is to become a man. Castiel then, at the end of the last episode, finds himself both human and aware that he has caused all angels to fall from heaven, shown as a meteor shower in one of Supernatural's most magical scenes.

In the same episode Dean and especially Sam are busy closing the gates of hell forever. With Kevin's help, they discover that to do so they have to complete three tests, tests that also put a strain on their already rather complicated relationship. Given the danger and possible effects of the trials, Dean is the one who wants to deal with them without further discussion, trying to protect Sam at all costs, but his brother disagrees. And right now we see how Dean is now lacking that hope of lifting up and being happy that he once had. He is convinced that for him there is nothing but hunting for evil and knows that one day he will die doing just that. Hearing these words, especially after seeing the last episode of season 15, completely broke my heart. Because here it is understood that Dean, at least, does not think he is valuable enough to live a happy life outside of hunting, unlike Sam. Several times over the seasons Dean proves to be always the most pessimistic, who doesn't believe that he can win and above all that he is able to move on, and this side of it gets worse and worse, to the point of suicidal thoughts. For a character like Dean, who should have grown and realized that he was valuable enough to be happy, dying without a hint of struggle and survival instinct just when he could have been happy is really a terrible end (but I would say I can vent better about it in last season's review). As much as Dean wanted to be the one who would complete the trials, Sam accidentally passes the first one: to kill a hellhound and bathe in its blood (08x14). Sam, unlike Dean, wants to pass the tests because he wants to live on, optimistic, and so he will try to do it in every way. Dean isn't convinced Sam is the one who has to pass the trials and Sam thinks Dean wants to be the only one doing it because he doesn't trust anyone else, not even his brother. I think the problem isn't that Dean doesn't trust anyone else, but rather that Dean is only willing to hurt (and possibly kill) himself to close the gates of hell, and definitely not the person he cares about the most.

Unlike the first test, I was not completely satisfied with how the second was dealt with (08x19), freeing an innocent soul from hell (who turns out to be Bobby), because I think it was too easy to go to hell and above all find Bobby.

The last trial, on the other hand, is the most complex, the one that has been dealt with in the most interesting way and overall the best one: curing a demon and turning them into a human (08x23). The two brothers document themselves and spend quite some time searching for the magic formula (which is meant to be human blood), but the best thing is the demon on which they test this formula, Crowley, who is the enemy of the season and who proves to be Supernatural's best villain, both for his personality, for his own evolution and especially for his relationship with the Winchesters. A decisive aspect of this evolution is in fact precisely this transformation thanks to Sam's blood, which makes him incredibly more sensitive and empathetic (and in fact, although Sam does not complete the third trial and completely transform it, in the following season Crowley shows aspects of himself never seen before). In fact, Dean, once he learns that Sam, completing the trial, would die, convinces Sam to stop the trials and let go of the plan to close the gates of hell. This scene from the last episode is one of my Supernatural favorites, because it shows how much the two brothers care about each other, although they both made many mistakes, and how hurt Sam is that Dean does not trust him enough and prefers to collaborate with Benny or Castiel. Dean assures him that he is the person he would put in front of everyone else and helps him stop the pain he feels for trying to pass the third trial. While I love Castiel's relationship with Dean, I'm convinced Dean’s priorities are focused on Sam, because Dean not only played the role of older brother, but also father and mother, having been the only one to raise Sam, and the idea of seeing Sam die would completely destroy him (as we have already seen in the second season).

The two brothers, who have always lived alone in motels and cars, for the first time since the beginning of Supernatural find a "home". In episode 08x12, they meet their grandfather Henry, John's father, who has gone into the future to escape a Knight of Hell, Abaddon (who joins him and stays there), and they find out that he's part of an association called Men of Letters, the collectors of information on the supernatural who collaborate with a few hunters to handle the monsters, located in a bunker in Kansas. They then discover that they are also their legacy and decide to use that bunker, full of information that they were not aware of, as a base and home for research against the monsters they have to hunt.

The fact that the Winchesters finally have a place to live and create memories, the focus on the trials and the relationship between the two brothers, purgatory, Dean's relationship with Benny and Castiel and the fall of the angels are some of the elements that make season eight one of my favorites.

[fieryfantasybooklover]

My Heart Incarnate - A Sanders Sides fic

Ships: Prinxiety, Demus, Logicality

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

Thomas was in love. Deeply, happily, in love. And the best part of it? It was reciprocated. Thomas had been gushing for months about the dark-haired boy he had met on a plane. They had exchanged numbers after sitting next to each other on said plane, and that’s all it took. Thomas was smitten after one date, and here they were still going strong. The man’s name was Chris, and he was smart, witty, kind, and best of all, in love with Thomas. Chris was even supposed to be moving in soon. This complete, utter love had massively positive benefits for all the sides, though it sent the right brain sides into a total tailspin.

This, of course, led each right brain to shower their boyfriends in utter affection, whether or not they were ready for it. Logan could barely get work done, because Patton was cuddling him 24/7 and Logan didn’t have the heart to push Patton away. Especially when the moral side was showering him in compliments and things like “Oh Lo-Lo you’re so amazing!”, “You’re so smart and capable and everythingggg.”, and “I love you so muchhh.” Oblivious or uncaring to Logan’s scarlet face and shifting into the human form of a microsoft error sound, Patton continued to shovel love at Logan.

Roman was, if possible, was even worse. He serenaded Virgil whenever he entered the room, covered the anxious side’s room in roses, and was constantly giving Virgil gifts of chocolates, fancy clothes, and yet more flowers. Virgil had taken to living in his hoodie and a permanent state of being flustered. Though he would deny it, Virgil was a sucker for shows of affection, so he didn’t once tell Roman to stop, even though Logan and Janus teased him mercilessly about it. But when Roman was declaring his undying love for Virgil with gifts and statements like “I will love my dark god and my prince forever! He deserves everything the world has to offer!”, Virgil chose blushing in silence over yelling at his friends.

Finally, there was Remus. Already eccentric, Thomas’s love-filled state of mind didn’t help anything. Remus pulled Janus into dancing whenever he saw him, Janus having neither the willpower nor want to stop him. Remus was restrictive with his real, true affection, so Janus didn’t mind. What he did mind however were pranks that Remus thought were romantic but were truly annoying. Overall, Thomas was smitten in love, the left-brain sides were flustered messes on the receiving end of love, and the right-brain sides were feeling the effects of Thomas’s love and were slowly losing their minds to love, orbiting their boyfriend’s like the planets orbit the sun.

The closer Chris got to moving in, the more crazy and lovestruck Roman, Patton, and Remus got and the more acts of affection they showed. It was the most intense the week before Thomas’s boyfriend moved in, reaching near unattainable heights the night before moving day. Logan, Virgil, and Janus were definitely not ready or prepared for what was about to happen.

“Here you go!” Logan said while handing Virgil and Janus plates heaped with breakfast food. Today was the day that Chris was moving in. “Eat it up and enjoy it. I get the feeling us three are going to need our energy today. As if on cue, massive noise began rattling through the mindscape, showing no signs of stopping. “Ah yes. That would be it.” Janus said in response to the signs. “Oh hell no. Can I please go and hide in my room?”

“Prepare yourself Virgil. I don’t think retreating to your room is going to stop Roman.” Janus replied, casting a glance toward the side currently to hide his entire body in his hoodie. “Don’t think you’re safe Logan! I’m willing to bet that Patton is going to be the worst of them all!” Virgil hissed. Logan didn’t reply or turn around from preparing more coffee, but both Virgil and Janus could see that he was brilliantly red. It didn’t take long for the other three sides to burst into the room, laden with gifts, chocolates, and a myriad of other things.

Patton wasted no time tackling Logan to the ground, covering him in kisses and spewing happiness and love. Logan, brilliantly red with his hair messed all over his face, managed a muttered “Yeah, I love you too Pat.” Patton, squealing incredibly loudly, pulled Logan up and onto the couch. Logan struggled futily to escape, but Patton was having none of it. “Uh uh Lo. You’re going to stay right here where I can love you forever.” Logan, close to the point of steam whistling out of his ears, surrendered and let Patton cuddle him. Logan did try to escape a few times, but Patton quickly turned to tickling, claiming “I don’t hear your adorable laugh enough!” Logan quickly stopped trying to escape, and the reward of Patton’s beautifully cute smile was enough. Finally, for the first time in ages, Logan allowed himself to smile and be in the arms of the one he loved and relax.

Meanwhile, Roman was very busy making Virgil very aware of how much he loved him. Virgil was now the recipient of every single possible gift Roman had thought to gather. The poor anxious side was stammering and stuttering, running his hands through his hair and doing his best to not melt. Finally, Virgil just snapped, leaped forward, grasped Roman’s face gently and kissed him full on the mouth, whispering “Just kiss me. That’s all you ever need to do. My heart and soul are already yours.” The pair stood there, the gifts forgotten on the floor, as they kissed so deeply they forgot what being without love and euphoria felt like in the first place, and as thoughts ran through both Virgil’s and Roman’s head, most along the lines of “I love you so much you don’t even know. You deserve this many shows of love every single day. So I can chase away all your demons and replace them with affection and love.”

And finally, Remus and Janus. Remus hadn’t brought gifts and didn’t like to cuddle. Janus knew this and loved him all the more for it. Because Janus knew that those were the layers he put up to block himself from pain and betrayal. Janus knew, because he had the same barriers, barriers that were only just now starting to fall. “It’s ok, my love. I know who you are, and I still love you. The world would crumble to ashes and dust, and I would still be in love with you.” Janus said softly, weak in the knees from the relief in Remus’s eyes. Crossing the room, Janus brought his love close in a hug and allowed himself to be pulled into a slow dance. Gazing into the opposite’s eyes, Janus and Remus felt themselves, for the first time in far too long, relax. They felt, for the first time in perhaps ever, their hearts beginning to truly warm.

A single mainstream thought filled all of the side’s minds at that moment. A thought that would dominate every side’s mind well into the future. “You are what fills my mind at every waking moment and you are what haunts my dreams when I’m asleep. You are my soul and my spirit. I have so much love for you that I think sometimes I might burst. I have so much love for you and I always will. You are my heart incarnate.”

And that’s how the day ended. Each pair wrapped up in the other’s arms, content to stay there until the end of time. Because no matter what the future might hold, the sides would be there for their loves. No matter if Thomas stayed with this boy, or if he met somebody else. The love the sides had for the others would never cease or fade. It would last into and beyond the great unknown.

[heartwoodventures]

If You Go Down to the Woods Today Pt. 2

Part 1 here!

In the utter silence of the forest glen Zorah's whisper seemed unnaturally loud. Several of their number craned their necks up to peer high above them. Nazyl slowly released his blade from its holster. Bird, demon, or whatever it was, he was ready for it. Aislinn slid a hand up to the grip of her gun and tensely waited, all the while stepping back to the relative shelter of the trees.

The group didn’t have to wait long. The sound of beating wings grew loud, and louder -- the closer it got, the easier it was to pick out a sort of ungainly, awkward gait to the flapping as though the creature was struggling -- the silence around them was abruptly shattered as something massive crashed through the canopy, and came in straight for the forest floor!

The three on the front-lines managed to scramble out of the way *just* in time; though no one could escape the smell. The overpowering, sweetly rancid scent of rot rolled through the clearing as the creature righted itself. Nazyl kicked away from the creature, putting distance between him and it to get a good look at it while Zorah managed to have the grace to step back when the creature fell into their view, her hands at her sides forming the aetheric discs she relied on in combat. Though both were able to miss being hit, that putrid smell was unbearable, causing the miqo’te to silently gag and cover her nose and mouth with the back of her hand.

"Seven Hells." Aislinn coughed as both she and Vanriri scrambled backward, but there was no reprieve from the choking smell. It was almost a certainty that scent was going to find its way into the hyur’s nightmares.

A sharply beaked head lowered to screech indignantly at the party that had dodged it -- or perhaps it was lamenting its own clumsiness. Empty sockets stare balefully at the gathered adventurers as it reared back, unfurling a massive pair of leathery wings.

Aiswyda answered the creature’s eyeless gaze with a mixed look of disgust, shock, and confusion. “Is this the guy? Ugh, this chicken is far too large.” she took a moment to shake out her fists and then, “Care-to-enlighten-us-on-what-this-oversized-bird-is?” she managed to get those words out with lightning speed -- to the point where it could be misinterpreted as a very strange and drawn out battle cry. Without a moment to lose, she dashed ahead and aimed a punch right at the creature’s beak.

With its head extended from its screech, Aiswyda’s fist connected easily with the creature, crunching bone and softened cartilage. It squawked in protest and reared its eyeless head back, shaking it as though to recover from the impact.

"I've not fought maneh o' these....livin' or dead." Nazyl wrinkled his nose at the scent. Undead beast. Great. Necromancy at work. While it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever smelled, it wasn't exactly pleasant either. 

N'yami turned her head to the side and a small crack was heard from her neck, her carbuncle made a noise that sounded as if to argue with the Seeker, clearly she was about to do something stupid. "Someone has to make sure it doesn't fly away." 

Bolting towards the weird bird-like creature, N'yami jumped up to grab it around the neck then held on for dear life. She was attempting to grapple the massive pteranodon's neck, but as she leapt up to grab it, its partially rotted flesh sloughed away under her grasp, sending her tumbling back to the ground nearby. With a very nasty prize. She slopped down to the ground with some very unpleasant.....flesh on her. 

"Well....I've had worse on me I suppose." She shook her hands to try and rid herself of the gore.

Nazyl wretched at N’yami’s failed attempt to keep the ptero held down, "Try its wings first, it's a scalekin. Or was." He took his holy blade in both hands and leapt up at the unfurled wings, cutting down at the arm in an attempt to sever, or at least break it. What was this creature even doing way out here?

His blade sliced straight through the undead pteranodon's joint like butter, the severed edges turning to ash where the sword had struck. The limb itself collapsed to the forest floor nearly on top of N'yami as the undead abomination reeled backwards, dragging its bloated carcass with rather surprising agility. Nevertheless, one faulty flap of its remaining wing reveals it was almost certainly grounded.

N'yami watched as the wing almost fell on top of her. "That would've been unpleasant." She said while rolling and pushing herself up into a standing position again. She was met with a whack to the back of her head from her carbuncle, trying to get her friend’s head back in the game. "I know I know."

Aiswyda gagged as flesh and wing rained down right in front of her. She was just, so upset. The smell. The everything about this.

While the others got in their attacks, Aislinn spared a moment to pull a bandana from her hip pouch and hastily wrapped it over the lower half of her face. The smell of death and decay was making her stomach churn and she had no desire to spill her dinner all over the forest floor. Too embarrassing. That done, now it was down to business. She yanked the handgonne from the holster at her back and leveled it at the creature. With a head full of calculations, she aimed for one of the empty eye sockets and fired off a round, her back heel digging into the dirt from the kickback.

The pteranodon swung its long neck about to screech with seeming indignation at its missing limb just as Aislinn fired off her shot; though it doesn't catch the eye socket directly as she'd intended, it does glance across its already charred and softened beak where Aiswyda had struck it earlier, taking out a chunk of what charred flesh remained and shattering bone.

Meanwhile, Vanriri remained almost plastered back against the tree; she had the sense to pull the quarterstaff from her back, but her hands were shaking where she held it. Swallowing, she tightened her grip on the staff and charged recklessly into the melee, swinging her staff at the other wing's vulnerable joint. It was a good hit. Her staff cracked against the elbow with considerable force, but the impact was mitigated somewhat by the layers of leathery, undead flesh that squelched uncomfortably beneath the blow.

With sudden and surprising agility, missing limb or no, the pteranodon swung its bulbous bulk around, jabbing its sharply beaked head down at the two lalafell while its lengthy tail snaked out to trip up the miqo’tes.

With a dancer’s agility, Zorah flexed her fingers, the aetheric discs sparking as the aether rose in the air around her.  It trailed along her feet and hands as she stepped back, out of the pteranodon’s reach, turning and moving with graceful, deliberate steps that lead into her hurling both discs toward the creature. The brief glow of aether lights up the area as they criss-crossed into the creature both into him from front and back, returning to her hands.

For her own part, N’yami wasn't quite as quick enough to dodge the tail that came slamming down, with an 'oof' she was sent back to the ground where she was before. "This bastard." With a groan she pushed herself back up to dust her coat off of any fleshy slime.

The pteranodon's maw closed on Vanriri like a bird plucking up a particularly juicy morsel, its teeth slicing easily through her leather armour as it proceeded to fling her back and into a nearby tree. She hit the trunk and slid down, unconscious or stunned, her staff falling from her hands halfway between her and the hulking undead creature. Losing no time, it swung its head around to Nazyl to do much the same -- though thankfully his armour largely prevented it from getting a good grip on him, and instead it settled for the satisfying crunch.

No one had bargained on the thing being so fast with so much of its flesh missing, but they should have, considering how fast some skeletons can move. Aiswyda watched in alarm as Vanriri soared through the air on impact while Aislinn could only curse under her breath as the lalafell hit the tree with an unnerving ‘thunk’. Nazyl moved quickly to stand between Vanriri and the beast, settling into a protective stance. He didn't need to watch someone die today. There was little more they could do in the moment. It did, however, give them a sense of urgency. The faster they could down the beast, the better.

Aiswyda continued to focus her punches at the creature’s head. One, because she thought it would do more damage, and two, because she didn’t really want to have her fist sink into the bird’s mushy torso. Her flaming fists succeeded in collapsing part of the pteranodon's skull, its motion began to seem a little more sluggish as the fire charred its flesh and blackened bone.

Back on her feet now, N’yami turned to her summon. "Whackara, ya wanna go for a little ride?" 

The carbuncle flicked her tails and already knew what was coming, with an excited squeak the summon prepared herself as N'yami held Whack like a ball in her hand. "And....go!" And with that the carbuncle went flying right through the pteranodon's body. The carbuncle made a whistling noise as she flew and like a boomerang came back to the Seeker to smack into her face....while covered in rotting flesh. 

"I hate you." the miqo’te muttered. 

As the carbuncle returned to N'yami there didn't really seem to be any effect at first, save that the pteranodon shifted slightly and began winding up for another tail swipe at the group. Then its midsection began to expand slightly, a flicker of aetherial light glowing from the slices Zorah had carved in the bulk of its middle earlier. It screeched once more -- a sound that is abruptly cut off as an impact ripples through the clearing from inside the beast -- and promptly splattered everything and everyone within a 10 fulm radius with gore as the aetherial bomb Whackara had left behind exploded.

Nazyl prepared himself for the inevitable attack, digging his boots into the dirt and raising his shield....only to me showered in a mess of rotting flesh and viscera. Gross. He exhaled slowly, staring at the ground some in quiet contemplation, before beginning to wipe the gore from his person, "Twelve, could ye a have killed it without...explodin' it?"

As the creature wavered, Aislinn saw her chance and rushed to the fallen lalafell to make a hurried assessment of her condition. Just as she had knelt at Vanriri’s side, however, the undead exploded and Aislinn simply hung her head in resignation as she was splattered in gore and rotten flesh. Yet another coat, ruined.

"To be fair that wasn't my plan." The carbuncle moved to the top of N’yami's head, each little foot squished through the flesh stuck to her. "I blame, Whackara, that was all her."

Aiswyda had been knocked over by the meaty impact, hidden under piles of miscellaneous viscera. From where she lay silent prayers leaked from her lips.

"Uh huh, blame the construct." Nazyl dryly replied. 

Vanriri was roused by the sound of the explosion; and as Aislinn approached it was clear she had some wounds that would need tending, but she seemed to be shaking off the worst of her trip. At least until she was suddenly and unceremoniously splattered with viscera which left her gaping in speechlessness. 

Surprisingly unfazed by the shower of gore, the highlander’s hands began to move as though writing in the air just above the lalafell's torso. As the arcane equation takes shape, Aislinn can feel the gemstone bracelets under her gloves heat as they release their aether, dulling the pain and redirecting blood from the injury site. It was a patch, at best. All she could do. 

She took in Vanriri's speechless face. "Surprisingly not the first time we've left a job like this." she says by way of explanation. 

“WHACKARAAAaa!” Aiswyda called out. A fist rose from the meat pile, followed by the rest of the Sea Wolf. She was covered head to toe in things that thankfully remain undescribed.

Vanriri relaxed just slightly as Aislinn's healing aether stemmed the worst of the bleeding, though she couldn’t immediately tell what was her blood, and what was the pteranodon's.

"Hey lass, ye alright? Ye took quite a hit there." Nazyl asked as he turned to Vanriri with a grimace, still wiping himself down.

"Mhm!" she squeaked immediately. She did not look alright.

"Right. Yer gettin' medical attention eithah way, in case that thing had some nasteh disease. I'll likeleh need a look too..."

Her expression said everything she didn’t as she looked at Nazyl, horrified at the idea he had just put in her head.

"It doesn't feel great either." N’yami pulled on the front of her coat as if to try and keep the flesh off her skin that had slid down with Whackara. "Someone throw me in the river."

“Nymeia's Blood, that's a good idea.” Aislinn murmured. 

Aiswyda lifted a hand and observed it. The limb is covered completely, stained red. The Roegadyn let out a sigh so long that it seemed to physically deflate her. “A river, right. We’re all going to need a good hosing off. Again!” She shook her head. “Again!”

Vanriri scrambled unsteadily to her feet, doing her best to ...not look traumatized. She looked traumatized. This was her first rodeo, guys.

Nazyl smirked in amusement, "Ye new ta this? Careful, wait too long n' ye might become a zombeh yerself!" He laughed, shaking his head, "I jest. Though, ye could get some nasteh infections if we don't get those wounds cleaned."

Vanriri did not look mollified by Nazyl humour. ".....Oh dear."

Aislinn nodded in agreement with Nazyl. She gave Vanriri a gentle look. "Could be worse. Let's get you back to the Company house."

"I'm gonna go home and shower, someone let Ma know injured are headin' to the clinic." N’yami said, still shaking out her coat. 

"Y-you have a qualified chirurgeon?" the petite lalafell asked plaintively.

Aislinn did her best not to show her amusement at the question. "With a group like ours? Indeed we do."

"Welcome ta me world." Nazyl snorted. "I deal with this daileh."

“And you never get used to it, unless your name starts with Naz and ends with ‘yl.’” Aiswyda gave Vanriri a tired, but amused look.

"I was...perhaps unprepared for this eventuality." Vanriri said, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.

Nazyl smiled, more warmly than before, "I don't think anehone expected a bloodeh scalekin zombeh out here in the woods. I'm curious as ta why it was here in the first place..." He glanced back at the fleshless corpse, "Mayhaps we can research that latah. Fer now though, we've succeeded, n' the Shroud can sleep easiah."

Aislinn nodded and gestured to Nazyl. "As he said." she looked around at the others. "I'm going to head back and let G'lewra know you're coming."

Vanriri cleared her throat, nodding. "I--indeed. I will report the, ...success of the hunt to the Wailers on our way through Buscarrons that they might clean ...this... up before someone stumbles..." She trailed off, spying bits and pieces of what was perhaps the pteranodon's last meal in amongst a nearby pile of gore. "..."

She quickly averted her gaze up to Aislinn. "Thank you."

Aislinn gave a single nod in reply.

“Shh. Don’t think about it too much.” Aiswyda groaned, and began to make her way out of the clearing. Presumably back to Heartwood. Their job was done. The beast slain. More gil for the Company coffers. The Shroud a measure safer for those who lived within its boundaries. And, most important of all, every one of them had managed to walk away at the end of the fight. There wasn’t any better proof of success than that.

[violet-knox]

One Single Word

Year 6 - Chapter 38

Summary: The after shock of what happened between you and Severus settles in as you both deal with the situation over the next few day. 

Word count: 5287

Warnings: Severus gets a little rough but nothing violent, heavy pining, more angst probably 

Possible side-effects: crying, shattered heart 

A/N: This chapter is best consumed with ice cream

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

~

You immediately froze in your place as your head bolted up to look at him, unable to believe what you just heard. It was so subtle, he’d barely mumbled it, and yet, that single word rang in your ears like a song playing in slow motion. Your chest heaved in panic as your eyes widened, looking at the flushed face of the boy in front of you. You felt your throat dry as you attempted to swallow your fears. You couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true, and the longer you stared at him, the more you convinced yourself you had indeed misheard him.

“W-what? What did you say?” your voice came out raspy. It was barely audible, but he didn’t have to understand what you said as he could see the hurt you felt splattered all over your face. Your brows were furrowed, and your eyes began to water. Between your ruffled hair, trembling lip, the dress that hung from your hips and the tear running down your cheek, he never imagined this was how the night would end. He stared back at you, feeling his hands shake beneath him as he’d lifted himself up, leaning on his elbows. 

You didn’t give him a chance to reply as you completely removed yourself from him and stood up to face the wall. You couldn’t bare looking at him another second knowing what had been running through his mind not moments ago. The look on his face said it all. He messed up and he knew that. Suddenly aware of your partial nudity, you struggled to pull your sleeves back on, covering your skin in an attempt to cover your emotional vulnerability. The tears streaming down your face made it incredibly hard to see what you were doing, but worst of all were your shaking hands. You couldn’t keep them still and it caused your sleeve to slip from your fingers several times before they were finally pulled over your shoulders. You didn’t bother trying to zip up your dress as it was hard enough to do that when you weren’t physically falling apart like you were right now.  

“(Y/N), I-,” he started, unsure of what to say as he struggled to process what just happened. He couldn’t believe the word he let slip from his lips. His mind began to cloud as he tried to find the reason he had just muttered another girls name in such an intimate moment with you. He felt tears slowly drip down his cheeks as he watched your shoulders shake. He wanted so badly to walk over there and hold you, stop you from sobbing and tell you it was all in your head, that you had merely imagined him betray you with one simple word. He knelt on the carpet he’d gone through so much trouble acquiring and felt his legs falter as he tried to get up. All those months spent together, all those lovely memories shared between you both: destroyed in seconds. 

He watched as the only person to accept him for who he was, the only person who’d forgiven the bad choices he’s made in the past, grab her shoes and head to the door. No. He couldn’t let you leave. Not like this. Not without trying to talk to you first. Almost like instinct, he jumped up and ran in front of you, grabbing your arm to keep you from leaving. He stood between you and the door, keeping a hand tightly around your arm as he tried to come up with words to say. 

“(Y/N), p-please don’t leave. I-I didn’t mean to- I-I swear I-I... P-please let me explain,” he rambled as you tried to free yourself from his grasp. His hold on you was so strong, you could feel his nails digging into your skin as his palms pressed against the lace of your sleeve. He’d never been so rough before, it surprised you at first, but that feeling slowly turned into fear as he grabbed your other arm with the same fierce grasp, stunning you into place. 

Your breath was shaky and rapidly increased as you panicked at the situation you were in. You looked up into his eyes and noticed the thick glossy layers of tears that seemed to be leaking uncontrollably from beneath his eyelids.  

“No!” you cried out as your bottom lip trembled in anguish. On the verge of completely breaking down, you attempted to push him away as hard as you could, but his hold on you was too strong and you were unable to free yourself. You kept your hands on his chest as your heels swung from the straps around your fingers, pushing him away, only to have him pull you back. Severus couldn’t let you go, not like this. He couldn’t lose you over such a horrible mistake. 

“Please (Y/N),” he tried again, his voice, breaking, emulating a rise of panic. He was doing everything he could to keep himself together, afraid that if he let you go, his heart would stop beating completely. His entire world was falling to pieces and he felt helpless to stop it.

“Let me go!” your voice carried so much hurt, he couldn’t believe you were speaking to him in such a tone. It stung him to see you in the vulnerable state you were in, fighting to get away from him, when all he wanted to do was hug you and plead for forgiveness. “You’re hurting me!”

Severus looked down and saw that his hands had gripped you so tightly that your arms had shifted shades. He could see through the lace that the skin under his palms were an aggressive red and it was clear he was on the verge of bruising you. His eyes widened as he released you in fear and you quickly gave one last hard push causing him to stumble backwards, almost losing his balance. He knew you were about to make a break for it. He knew that as you shoved him away from the door, you would sprint out of the tower and run to your room, but he couldn’t find the courage to run after you. He simply stood there and watched you pick up your dress as you stepped on the other side of the door. His eyes gave a harsh blink when the door slammed behind you and two thick tears slide down his face.  

Severus turned his back to the door, leaning back as his weight gave out on him. He sank to his knees, holding his face in his hands as he heard you running down the stairs. His body shook as he replayed the last few minutes in his head, unable to understand what had happened and how he let himself push you away like that. 

You put so much trust in him when you accepted his rose, and he promised he wouldn’t betray your trust. Yet here he was, sitting there alone after tearing your heart to pieces. Why had Lily’s name escaped his throat? He wasn’t even thinking about her. Though, he had to admit to himself, he wasn’t exactly thinking about you either. It all went by so fast, he couldn’t really remember what his last thought was before he entered a state of panic and fear of losing you. 

It suddenly sank in; he had lost you. Probably for good too. He couldn’t see how you could possibly forgive him for this, nor could he venture how he could explain what happened. He wanted so badly to cry into your arms, hearing you say it would be alright, that you understood it was a mistake and he would never do it again. But what good would his word do now that he’d proven he couldn’t be trusted? No, he had to give you more than his word. He had to somehow show you that his feelings for you are genuine and that Lily was no more than an old friend to him. 

Two hours passed by and he found himself blankly staring at the arrangement he’d set up earlier that day, knees tucked into his chest and arms wrapped around them in comfort. He snuffled as he rubbed his swollen eyes, finally removing himself from where he sat. His chest sticky from all the tears he’d shed, and his head ached from sobbing so hard. He placed a hand over the door, trying to regain the strength to walk, but he only managed to steady himself enough to shuffle over to his clothing. He sat back down and slowly reached for his shirt, his hand shook as he slipped one arm through the sleeve. Pausing, he closed his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths knowing he had to try and get himself together if he was going to clear the room and head to the dungeons tonight. As he opened his eyes, he reached for his other sleeve and just barely managed to get it over his shoulder before fresh tears dripped down his nose, sinking into the silky material of the carpet.

He broke down once more and pulled a pillow close to his chest as he laid on his side. Realizing he no longer had the will to do anymore, he twisted himself, snuggling into the remaining pillows and cried into the pillow he hugged so tightly, seeking the comfort he longed to have from you. He could smell the subtle perfume you wore on the pillow, which only caused an increase of density in the tears pouring from his eyes. He wanted you back so badly, every inch of his body ached with pain knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to the way things were. He fell asleep that night a complete wreck in the astronomy tower, dreaming of you all the same. He woke up sometime in the middle of the night only to realize he’d left those old candles burning. He mustered enough strength to reach for his wand and put them out and immediately slumped his head back down on the pillows as new tears ran down the sides of his face, seeping into his hair. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night as each time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt look on your face when he’d uttered that one word.

  You struggled as you ran down the stairs of the astronomy tower, tripping on your dress several times and even heard it tear at some point. But that didn’t matter now, none of it mattered anymore. All that you cared about was getting away. Getting away from Severus, from the tower you’d spent your best days in, the place where you’d had your heart torn to pieces. Hell, you couldn’t even bare the sight of the castle anymore. Everything around you reminded you of him and that one word he used to rip your heart out of your chest. You paused outside the astronomy tower and tried to gather yourself before heading back to your dorm, wanting to avoid the stares you would get from others in this state. You couldn’t believe Severus had muttered another girl’s name when you had such lustful thoughts running through your head, wanting to please him in a way you never had. It was beyond heart breaking. You’d fallen for this boy whom you thought could return your feelings, only to find out in the worst possible way that your instinct during the Yule Ball, that fear that crept up when the Champions entered the room, they were real. He was in love with Lily Evans and you’d ignored this simple fact, emotionally and physically exposing yourself to him.

You shook your head and cleared your thoughts as your tears dried out. You tried instead to think of anything else. Anything to help keep you together. Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you polluted your mind with thoughts of Quidditch, Herbology, various books, TV shows you watched back in the Muggle World, riding a bike, anything to distract you as you made your way back to the castle. You held your heels in your hand as you picked up your dress, running down the halls as fast as you could. Quidditch trials, music, graduation, Sev- NO! … Driving a car, your first drink, Zonko’s… A tear slipped and you quickly wiped it away as you continued digging up old memories. You’d never noticed until now just how far Gryffindor tower was from the astronomy tower and you began to wonder why you’d never been caught after hours walking back. Severus was always so good at managing your time tog-No! Not again. 

You quickly turned a corner and sprinted the rest of the way, barely whispering the password to the Fat Lady.

“My my you’re back early aren’t you,” You could feel a fire starting in your gut, angry at the portrait that always seemed more interested in school drama than doing her job. 

“Open the bloody door!” you shouted.  

“Alright, no need to shout…” replied the Fat Lady. “Looks like someone’s had an awful night.” 

You shot her a dirty look, challenging her to ask what happened. Go ahead ask and I’ll rip your painting right out of that frame! The Fat Lady gave you a startled look, partially afraid from the look you had in your eye before quickly swinging her portrait open. You stepped into the Gryffindor common room and sprinted up the stairs to your dorm. Reality began to sink back in as it was quite evident that you were the first one back. Everyone else was no doubt still enjoying themselves at the Ball, dancing, laughing and here you were; dress unzipped, your hair a complete mess and your head clouded with disappointment, anger, distraught. It wasn’t fair. Why was everyone else allowed to have a good time as you stood alone, broken in so many pieces, you didn’t think it possible to be put back together.

So many negative emotions were swirling through your mind, it became quite hard to think. Your hands began to shake again, and your tears returned as the sound of your heels hitting the floor echoed through the room. They’d slipped from your hands and as you stared down at them through your water filled eyes, you suddenly became aware of how disguised the dress you had on made you feel. You began tearing it off through trembling breaths as you finally let yourself lose control. Your sobs could be heard through the dorm, to the common room as you stuffed the ruined dress under your bed, along with your shoes. You didn’t bother stepping into your sleepwear and simply pulled the curtain around your bed before burying your face in your pillow, crying so hard you thought your eyes might pop out.

How could he do this to me? After everything you had been through, after all the work and effort you have put into your relationship with him, to show him how deserving you are of his love, he had betrayed you in such a ruthless manner. You had forgiven so much from him, but how could you forgive him for this, for being in love with someone else. It was all just so overwhelming. There were so many things running through your head, it was hard to sift through it all. You were angry with him for keeping you as his second choice. You were angry at yourself for opening your heart to him. You were sad that such a lovely relationship ended so badly. You were jealous that he clearly loves Lily more than he does you. You were frustrated for still loving him, and that had to be the worst part. You still cared so much for him and that only caused the pain to swell.

An hour passed by and you’d finally stopped crying only because your body would no longer allow tears to fall. Your throat felt so ratchet and your eyes were swollen, bloodshot from the heavy sobbing you’d just done. You stared at the red curtain around you until your eyes had had enough and screwed shut, allowing your body to shut down completely.

You finally fell asleep only to wake up two hours later and realized that everyone else had returned, happily asleep in their beds. Your head throbbed with pain as you tried to sit up. Slowly, you closed your eyes and the memories of last night came flooding back. Your tears began to return, and you quickly buried your face in your pillow, not wanting anyone to hear you. 

How could he do this to me, you thought over and over again. Why didn’t I see this coming? Why did I let myself get so close to him? 

Your thoughts spiraled all night until the sun rose and everyone else began to wake. Your entire body ached from tossing and turning all night and you had developed the most pain throbbing headache you’d ever felt. You pretended to sleep as others pushed aside their covers, dressing one by one. You had no desire to speak to anyone or hear about how their night went. All you wanted was to close your eyes and disappear into a world that didn’t cause you so much agony. You wanted so badly to forget the last twelve hours of your life, you’d do anything to have that memory taken away, to go back to the simple life of the lonely bookworm you were before you met him. His face was etched into your brain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to picture his name. Your life was so simple before you opened that compartment door and decided to talk to the raven-haired boy across from you two years back. You’d always done so well on your own as you struggled to trust other. And maybe that was why you didn’t have many friends, why you’d never really been more than a peer or acquaintance to the other students at Hogwarts. You had refused to let anyone get close to you in the fear of it blowing up in your face and last night had proven that you were not wrong to make such a decision.

But the last few months were the best you’d had in your life, and the person you shared them with was someone special to you, someone you thought you could trust. The only person you’d ever opened yourself to. Look how ruddy that relationship turned out. Perhaps it was best if you did return to scavenging by alone, avoid making any more friends and just swear off guys all together. It would be the easy, safer route to take. Insures that your heart won't break any further than it already had. 

“You awake (Y/N)?” Jessica’s voice rang in your ears when she pulled the curtains back an inch to check on you. You kept still and didn’t respond, knowing if you did, you’d break down in front of her and the few girls left in the dorm. She closed the curtain when you didn’t reply, and you listened as she chatted with her friends. 

“She was the first to come in last night,” Jessica informed the girls. “Saw her leave the Ball early with that boy she was with.”

“Oh, they were a lovely couple,” Mary commented. “Wish I could have danced like that with my date. Adryan was an awful partner. I didn’t get a very good look at who she was with,”

“It was Severus,” your heart stopped at the sound of Lily’s voice. 

“No way! I would have never guessed!” Mary’s voice sounded shocked and you couldn’t blame her. He was practically unrecognizable last night, especially from afar. Almost everyone at the Ball, looked distinguishably different from how you were used to seeing them. It was hard for you to spot anyone you knew and those you did, took you awhile to find. It was such a beautiful, magical night, up until… that unspeakable moment.

“Come on, let’s leave her to rest,” Jessica had walked over and opened the door, waiting for the other two to leave before quietly shutting the door behind her.

You took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, attempting to gather yourself and minimize the pain as you slowly opened your eyes. Finally, you were alone again. It was a relief at first, until you realized you were still accompanied by those nasty emotions from last night, coupled with that memory that had permanently burned itself into your brain. You tossed and turned a while before you pulled the curtain back just a little to let some light in, only to be stunned in place when your eyes landed on the rose that lay on your bedside table, the same rose he’d given you when he asked you to the dance. You had charmed it so it was frozen in time, suspended, holding a hard but happy memory. You’d cherished it each day since your first kiss and it would bring you so much joy when you saw it. But now, you weren’t sure how you felt when you saw it once more. You weren’t happy, that's for sure, but you weren’t mad either. You felt… nothing.

Your tears stopped as you cautiously leaned over, picking it up. You sat up in your bed as you twirled it around your fingers, your face frozen in a null expression. As you examined the flower, you remembered how hurt he was when he thought you had decided to go to the Ball with someone else and how he treated you when he was in such a state. You remembered how you confronted him and how he apologized to you, finally asking you to the dance. You had shared your first kiss holding this flower in your hand, hoping that the moment would never end. As your fingers gently ran over the soft petals, you could almost feel his lips pressed against yours again which lead your eyes to water. 

The more you looked at this rose, the more you thought of all the good memories you shared with him. Slowly, you found your mind filled only with sorrow as your anger and misery sept away. You missed him so much and you wanted to go back to the way things were so badly, but you knew that even if you forgave him, even if you forgot about what happened, he still wouldn’t be yours because his heart belonged to someone else. 

What does she have that I don’t? You couldn’t fathom why he was so hopelessly in love with someone who very clearly did not return his feelings. She, in fact, had rejected him as a friend while you accepted him, flaws and all. So why did he still care so deeply for her? Jealousy began coursing through your veins as your mind flooded with memories of him with Lily. It had been so long since they even spoke, why was he still hung up on her after what happened between them at the end of last year?

After deciding to skip breakfast, you began to remove yourself from your covers and do the one thing you knew would help cheer you up and get your mind off of the drama that has become your life: read. As you stepped off your bed, you realized you were only wearing your underwear and bra, so you went to your trunk and began to rummage through it for that comfortable sweater you only wore on days you’d stay in. You stopped when you got a glimpse of a rich green hood. His robe. You still had them. The thought of burning them exited your head as fast as it entered and you simply moved your Quidditch uniform atop it, trying to forget something of his was in the midst of your belongings. You continued sifting through your things until you finally pulled out the sweater you were looking for, along with a pair of shorts.

You placed the sweater on your bed as you pulled on the shorts first. You took off your bra and threw it in your trunk before reaching for the sweater, but as you went to pull the sleeves up your arms, you noticed some marks that caused you to pause. Both your arms were bruised from where he’d grabbed you last night, trying to keep you from leaving. They didn’t really hurt as they were still fresh, but the red skin had become quite apparent throughout the night. You shook your head in disappointment from his abrupt actions. You understood he didn’t mean you harm, that he simply wanted you to stay, but that didn’t justify him placing his hands on you like that.  

After slipping the sweater over your shoulders, you went back to your trunk and took out a book, making your way back into bed and closed the curtains for privacy in case anyone was to reenter the dorm. You began to read, unsure of when you would leave the comfort of your bed. You were sure of one thing though; you weren’t going to let yourself fall apart like you did last time, and you surely weren’t going to make the same mistake of trusting him again.

You were stronger than that, smarter than that. It was hard to focus at first, but soon enough, the words on the page seemed to fill your mind, taking you away from reality for a brief moment.

“You’re still in bed?” Jessica had thrown your curtains aside and your eyes burned a little before adjusting to the new light. She’d startled you, taken you by surprise, but you quickly recovered as you came up with an excuse for her. 

“I’m just not feel all that well Jess,” you whispered. Your voice was so dry and raspy; you definitely sounded sick. 

“Is that why you left early last night?”

You nodded your head and examined her sympathetic expression. She seemed to buy your lie which you were thankful for as you did not want to tell her what really happened. Jessica was nice, caring and you’d heard one of the other girls call her the Mum of the girl’s dorm, which was incredibly accurate, but you were just not ready to confide in anyone.

“Do you want me to snag you some food from lunch?” she offered. 

“That would be great Jess, thank you.”

Perfect. Now you truly had no reason to leave the comfort of your dorm as you knew if you stepped outside those doors, he would try to confront you. You realized that he even had the password to the Gryffindor common room since you’d brought him in here during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. How foolish you were to do such a thing. But you were confident he wouldn’t try to get in as he’d be very easily spotted. And even if he did, you had that old sexist charm that had been placed on the stairs to protect you. You were perfectly safe here, and you had no intention of leaving your comfort zone until you were sure you’d be able to face him once more.  

The next four days flew by relatively quickly as you stayed hidden in your dorm. Jessica was kind enough to bring you food whenever she could and eventually, you found your courage slowly returning. You’d calmed down quite a lot and the events of the Yule Ball had become lost on you. It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders when you finally kept your mind off of it for an entire day. By morning the next day, you felt safe enough to join everyone at breakfast, and you promised yourself that if you ran into Severus, you wouldn’t let him ruin your day.

The Great Hall was already so packed when you got there, but you quickly found a spot on the edge of the Gryffindor table and began eating while burying your face in a book you brought. You’d read so much these last few days, you felt unable to part without the comfort of a book by your side. It helped so much to lose yourself in the words, and you were so thankful for the stack of books you had brought from the Muggle World. 

After a few minutes, you grabbed some food and stuffed it into the pockets of your robe to head back to your dorm, feeling that was enough fresh air for now. Unfortunately, Severus had spotted you when you walked in and didn’t take his eyes off you as you ate. When you stood up to leave, he quickly made his way towards you in an attempt to try and talk to you.

“(Y/N), wait,” he said jumping in front of you, “Can we talk?” he’d began reaching for your arm, but stopped when you flinched backwards. You paused, looking at his suspended hand in fear.

“Y-you bruised me when you grabbed my arms on Friday,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on his hand as he slowly lowered it. The fear in your eyes tore his heart apart. He’d regretted being so rough with you that night, but he simply wanted you to stay, no, he desperately needed you to stay with him. 

“I-I’m so-so s-sorry (Y/N). I-I didn’t mean to, I just- I-,” you looked up and saw tears gathering under his bloodshot eyes. He stopped and looked back at you, trying to remember the speech he had prepared over the last week, but failed as his mind filled with the sight of you falling apart in front of him that night in the astronomy tower. “Please (Y/N). Don’t let this be the end,” he begged. “This can’t be the end.”

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, fighting back tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a last attempt to keep you from running away. But it didn’t work. You managed to slip past him and began sprinting to your dorm in tears. All that effort you’d put in gluing yourself back together, shattered in seconds. Your hands shook as you stuffed your face back into your pillow, slipping back into the safety of your bed. You couldn’t let him keep you from living your life, from enjoying the few days you had left before you were swarmed with homework again. Each day you got up from your bed was a gamble as you were still so fragile, but you did your best to roam around the castle for as long as you could before hiding again.

You continued alluding Severus, ignoring him each time you spotted a glimpse of him, and he kept his distance as he knew anything he said wouldn’t help the situation. You both needed time apart to clear your minds, that had become abundantly clear from your last encounter. 

As classes resumed you found it harder and harder to keep your mind off him as you shared most of your classes together. It hurt you to see him or Lily and you didn’t know how to make it stop.

Severus felt his heart tear every time he saw your sad eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to admit that it was over. He couldn’t let you go, not when everything had been going so well. He hoped and prayed everything would return to how it once was somehow, but he didn’t know how to get you back. He had ruined the best thing in his life with a single word and he knew there was nothing he could say to fix it.

~

Next Chapter

~

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @xxaamzxx @sparklingkeylimepie @nameless-sovereign @wanderingtrails

[imagine-darksiders]

What would happen, if the horsemen swapped bodies? Maybe add in Azrael and Ulthane too xD

This is such a stupid little drabble lmao, even I’M confused as to who’s who. <3 <3 <3 

—-

Perhaps, in hindsight, they should have known theday would end in disaster when all six of them entered the same room.

Four horsemen, a boisterous, burly maker and thesoft-spoken archangel, Azrael.

‘The Incident’ – as it was affectionately coinedby Strife – happened eons before the creation of mankind and notlong after the Nephilim’s destruction.

They were all there at the behest of the HellguardCommander, Abaddon, who seemed to be under the impression thatinviting the horsemen to an extravagant gathering in the Templedistrict would be a fine idea. This was, of course, a blatant show offorce, an arrogant boast meant for his political opponents. For whowould dare stand against an angel backed by the Charred Council’sdeadliest weapon?

However, what went on behind the scenes was anentirely different matter.

There had been a monumental argument when Warquite ardently told Abaddon where he could shove his 'invitation,’that had only been resolved by Death and Azrael prying theirrespective companions off one another.

Azrael had then taken over negotiations, askingrather than demanding, that the Four attend, pointing out that ifthey did, he, Abaddon and Heaven itself would owe them a great debt.Death, of course, conceded because it was Azrael. Strife admittedthat it could be fun, Fury accused the two of them of being soft, andinevitably the fighting started up again.

In the end though, they reached a begrudgingagreement, which leads to the Four gathered inside Azrael’s privatestudy, hidden away in a corner of the Crystal Spire, each sporting adeep scowl as they gather around the angel’s tidy desk.

“What is the maker doing here?” Fury spits,jerking her chin at Ulthane where he towers behind the archangel,head and arms squashed in on themselves to appear as compact aspossible in the too-tight space. He levels a sneer at her.

“He is here at my request as well,” Azraelsighs before the maker can shoot her what’s sure to be a rude retort.Rubbing at his temples, he leans forwards on the desk, resting on hiselbows. “What use is my position if not to bring my friends to themost lavish of parties?”

“Aye girlie,”the Old one drawls, bending over Azrael’s head and bracing his handson the relatively flimsy desk, ignoring its protesting creak andgroan. “You got a problem with that?” As he moves back, pushedaway by the angel’s shooing hands, his bulky wrist knocks into a pairof tall flasks that were already teetering precariously close to theedge, sending them toppling down to the hard, marble floor below.

“NO!” the typically composed Azrael all butshrieks, throwing himself across the desk after them and stretchingout his arms in a fruitless attempt to catch them. Time seems to slowas the flasks fall.

Death reaches out for them as well, War rolls hiseyes up to the ceiling, Fury turns a glare on Ulthane and opens hermouth to call him a 'bumbling oaf’ and Strife merely watches withmild interest as the carnage unfolds.

As for the maker, he manages to eek out a sheepish'whoops,’ before the sound of shattering glass and sloshing liquidfills the room.

There’s a flash of blinding, orange light thatsears their retinas and throws them all into disarray.

When the light eventually fades, it reveals thateverything is….the same as it had been.

Ulthane flaps an enormous palm through the air,wafting away a thin layer of lingering mist. “Those were,” hecoughs, “highly volatile chemicals of – as of yet Unknown –origin! I have been conducting experiments on them for months! Do youhave any idea how hard it is to-”

The maker trails off as he cracks his eyes openand spots Azrael gaping up at him. The angel’s face is twisted intoabject horror and he raises his robed arms to run pale, slenderfingers along his angular jaw.

Ulthane tears his gaze off him to inspect his ownhands. “By the Light!” he squeaks – a very odd noise comingfrom the rough and tumble maker. At around about the same time,Azrael leaps to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the groundand exclaims, “What in the bloody name of Stone!?-”

At which point all Hell breaks loose and severalstrange things happen in the space of a few seconds.

Fury staggers forwards, totters on her heels andpromptly collapses to the floor with an undignified yelp. Deathrecoils as though he’d been struck and sputters, “Oh! Oh– What is that repugnant stench!?”

Across the room, Strife suddenly begins toscrabble at his helmet, wrenching it off and pitching it franticallyat one of Azrael’s bookshelves. “Who put that on me!?”

War meanwhile simply lifts his gauntlets and turnsthem over in front of his face. “Troubling,” he murmurs.

Just then, all four of them glance up and takestock of one another.

A series of outraged, confused and urgent yellsbombard the study.

“What happened!?” Strife demands,yellow eyes gleaming brightly against his charcoal skin.

As he speaks, Fury tries to drag herself uprightagain, using the desk as support whilst Azrael’s wings give a suddenflap and he barks, “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on!?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing, Azrael,”War growls, taking a step towards the angel, who shoots him anannoyed huff. “Azrael? I’m not Azrael! I’m Ulthane!”

Working his hands through the slick, black hair onhis head, Death mutters, horrified. “My hair! There’s so muchgrease!” before whipping a furious glare at everyone in the study.“Well, one of you must be Azrael! Speak up, so that I may throttleyou, bird!”

“Over here,” the maker pipes up, raising ameaty hand into the air, “And before we lose our heads, we shouldprobably sort out who’s who…”

Bending over the little desk, he tries to pinch adelicate quill between his thumb and forefinger, lips pressed into ahard line that gradually becomes a soft snarl after each failedattempt. After an awkward silence in which everyone watches the makerstruggle, he huffs and turns to the angel beside him. “Would youmind?”

Not-Azrael stops fiddling with the enormous,primary feathers and gives a start. “What? - Oh…Yeah, hang on atick..”

Sliding over to take the real Azrael’s place, hemanages to smack several book stacks over with his extensivewingspan. “Sorry.” He flexes his fingers a few times and picksthe quill up, holding it gently in his fingers as though he’s worriedit might break, then poises it over a scrap of yellowed parchment.“Alright, when you’re ready..”

“Good. Now then-” The enormous maker claps hishands together and winces at the volume, tentatively lowering themagain a moment later. “Let’s find out where everyone is, shall we?Death?”

The Red Rider, War, nods. “Here, Azrael.”

“Excellent. War? Ah - The real War?”

“I’ve never felt so puny,” Strife’sbody grumbles, throwing the giant a heated glare.

Propped up on the desk, Fury snarls at him. “Hey!You ought to be grateful you got me! Fury, how the hell do you walkin these heels?”

the angel continues to scribble on the parchment.“Safe to say we know where Strife is..” Raising a snowy eyebrowat the remaining, eldest horseman, he asks, “Fury?”

“You have no idea how much I wish that weren’ttrue, maker,” she gripes in her brother’s deep, gravelly voice.

“Wonderful,” Azraelremarks, “I propose to avoid confusion, we all refer to each otherby our proper names, rather than those whose bodies we inhabit.”

“Avoid confusion?” Strife scoffs, peeringwarily down at his breasts like he’d never seen a pair of them in hislife, “Now that is wishful thinking.” “

Chin propped on the back of his knuckles and theother hand fidgeting curiously with a pistol on his belt, War asks,“Was it the potions?”

The maker hums thoughtfully and starts to steparound the desk to pace, realises there’s very limited room to do so,and opts to remain where he is, tugging at the bushy beard framinghis entire jawline. “That seems most likely, I doubt the two weremeant to be mixed but I wasn’t even sure what their purpose was tobegin with..”

As he puzzles, Ulthane stares up at his own body,morbidly curious. “Is that really what I sound like?”

“Of course, as with most potions, the effectstend not to be permanent,” the non-angel continues, ignoring hisfriend’s fingers that poke sharply at his side. “I’d wager theeffects won’t last more than a few hours.”

“A few hours!”

“Uh, Azrael? That’s too long!”

“Surely you know a counter spe- Fury! You leavethat mask where it is!”

“Hang on, I gotta take these shoes off.”

The maker taps his fingertips together, shruggingsheepishly while the actual Ulthane grunts, trying to get hiswayward wings under control. Managing six limbs when one is usedto four is not an easy task.

“Alright, s'fine,” he barks, effectivelybutchering Azrael’s prim and proper accent, “We just stay in hereand wait till it wears off.”

Slowly, but agitated nonetheless, the groupconsiders this, sharing glances before they begin to settle, mumblingwords of reassurement..

Unfortunately, millions and millions of years fromthis point, Death would be travelling on Earth and hear a term thehumans refer to as 'Murphy’s law,’ which he would then think back andattribute to the situation he, his siblings, Azrael and Ulthane foundthemselves in. It’s a very fitting law that simply states, 'Ifsomething can go wrong, it will go wrong.’

And it did – spectacularly.

A knock on the heavy, wooden door has all heads inthe room snapping towards it and before anyone can move, it creaksopen and a head pokes through the gap. It’s a young angel with a mopof curly, silver hair flopping messily into his pale, amber eyes thatdart timidly around the room.

“I – Uh….Lord Azrael?” he utters,shrinking under the weight of several, intense scares.

“Ah! Sebastian, there you are,” Azraelsmiles pleasantly, his tone measured and perfectly calm. In fact, itwould almost fool anyone into thinking that nothing world-shaking hadoccurred there at all just moments ago, were it not for the fact thathe’d said it in a rumbling, nordic accent and stepped forward on tree trunk legs,bumping his knee into a free-standing bookshelf and almost upendingthe whole thing.

In an instant, Sebastian’s pale skin flushes pinkand he drops his jaw, glancing uncertainly between Ulthane and theangel sitting at the desk.

War coughs into a fist and discreetly kicks theangel’s robed shin.

“Oi! What?”

Pointedly, the horseman flicks his eyes at thenewcomer.

Following his gaze, Ulthane’s wings give anotherinvoluntary jerk. “Oh – er…Aye, I mean – Yes! What is it?”

Fury drags a hand down herbrother’s bone mask as Strife stifles a snort.

Understandably flustered, Sebastian gulps and drums his fingers on the doorframe. “S-Sir Abaddon sentme to ask for you. The guests have begun to arrive and he’s getting alittle…ah…impatient.”

“Abaddon? Impatient?” Death chuckles beneaththe crimson hood, “Somebody alert the scribes.”

Shushing the horseman, Azrael turns his head toaddress the young angel again. “Please tell him we’ll be alongpresently. Thank you, Sebastian.”

Once again, the angel’s face seems to turn an even deeper shade of crimson and a chorus of ’We will?’ erupts from the others.

Swivelling his head about to Ulthane, thearchangel wrings his hands together. “That is – of course – ifit’s alright with you, Lord. Azrael?”

Heaving out an exasperated sigh, the angel liftshis shoulders in a lazy shrug, failing to notice the twitch ofAzrael’s eyes when he does. “Fine, tell his Lordship we’ll be thereas soon as….as Strife here stops throwing a hissy fit.”

Everyone’s eyes shoot over to the gunslinginghorseman. War’s shoulders tense, eyes narrowing. After a moment ofperfect silence, he sighs flatly, reaches out a hand and pushes oneof Azrael’s ink pots off the desk.

“Brother!” Strife gasps in mock horror and shoves hissister’s body away from the wall he’d supported it on, wobblingunsteadily towards the door. “Honestly, we can’t take him anywherethese days.” Grabbing the young angel by the shoulders, he spinshim around and gives the middle of his back a quick nudge, betweenthe wings. “Run along now, and tell Abaddon we’ll be there in no time. Alright?”

“O-okay! Yes, Miss Fury.” Sebastian’s feathersshiver under the unwarranted touch to their sensitive tips but heallows himself to be steered out of the room, flinching when thehorseman slams the door behind him.

A scribe stacking tomes on a spiralling book caseacross the hallway looks up at the echoing sound. “Sebastian?”she calls, “Are you alright? Your face, it’s…it’s pink!”

Dazed, he smooths down his russet-brown robes andambles towards her, gliding the last couple of steps on hisremarkably dainty wings and landing heavily by her side. “He knowsmy name!” he sighs wistfully, slumping down the book case, “Me! Asimple messenger! And he knew my name!”

“Who?”

“The Black Hammer!”

She arches her brow scornfully. “That lug? So what? He’sjust a maker.”

“A gorgeous maker!” the youngster swoons.

Rolling her eyes to the painted ceiling highabove, she clicks her tongue and smiles knowingly. “Don’t let LordAbaddon hear you say that-”

All of a sudden, Sebastian shoots up off the wall,a sharp gasp leaping off his tongue. “Lord Abaddon!” he squawks,“The party! I’ve got to go!”

And with that, in a flurry of threadbare feathers,he zooms off down the hall, around a corner and out of sight.

Behind him, the scribe shakes her head and watches after him for awhile before she turns and continues her duty, placing books backinto their rightful spots.

—-

Back in Azrael’s study, any semblance of orderclings to a thread, threatening to snap at any given moment andplunge the room into mad chaos.

Livid, Death rounds on the angel in the room.“What possessed you to go and -” He pauses for a second, thentuts and turns to the gigantic maker. “- and say that? We can’t goanywhere like this!”

Strife passes between them, concentrating hard onplacing his heel down first before his toes follow. “I don’t know,I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

War folds his arms across his chest, ignoring hisbrother turned sister. “I concur with Death. In this state, we arecompromised. If anyone were to discover our…predicament, this wouldbe an opportune time for them to strike us down.”

“Well, we can’t remain in here,” Azrael pointsout, “If we do, Abaddon himself will come looking and he’ll knowstraight away that something isn’t right.”

“I am notkeen on having him find out about this,” Death mutters.

Holding up a bandage-wrapped fist, Fury clenchesit tightly. “We could always kill him,” she suggest, only halfjoking, “Come to think of it, I feel I could kill anyone at themoment….So this is imperviousness..”

The eldest horseman furrows his sleek, white brow.“Put it from your mind, little sister. This will not last.”

She shrugs, but continues to tense and flex hernewfound, sinewy arms.

“Furthermore,” Azrael coughs, “I’d rathernot make this situation any more uncomfortable than it already is –No offence, Ulthane -”

The Old one waves his apology aside.

“- and I fear that killing Abaddon will tip thescales into 'awkward.”

“So what do you propose?” War grunts.

“We could always just ditch this thing.”

“Oh yes, Strife. There’s an idea,”Death scoffs, “A maker, an archangel and four horsemen try to sneakaway through the streets of Heaven during a large-scale, socialevent. What could go wrong?”

Falling into grumbles, he absently finds himselfchecking the joints in his littlest brother’s metal gauntlet. 'Hmm.War never does use enough oil…’ he muses distractedly.

“If I may,” Ulthane interjects abruptly,venturing out into the middle of the room and eying the muscles onhis hijacked body longingly. He wouldn’t say it aloud, not to Azrael.But even as a youngling, he’d never felt this small. Fragile even.Shaking the sensation from his mind, he goes on, “I say we givethis a shot.”

He receives several incredulous looks, so he adds,“Look, you’re siblings. I would hope you know each other wellenough to pass as one another.”

All four riders share skeptical glances.

After a couple of long minutes where nobody uttersanother sound, Death sighs and rolls his shoulders. “Fury, you’dbest start teaching Strife how to walk in those shoes.”

War smirks at his sister’s objectionable groans.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Azrael warns, “Bevague, don’t talk to one person for too long, and for the sake ofeverything holy, don’t forget who you’re supposed to be. Ulthane -”He turns to the angel. “- This will be your biggest challenge.Everyone will be wanting a piece of me – I mean, you. Butworry not, I shall be by your side the whole night.”

Straightening out his back, Ulthane adopts hisbest dignified expression. “S'long as I act like a stick in themud, we’ll be fine.”

The glare Azrael throws at him pulls a chucklefrom Death.

Levelling a chunky forefinger in the old one’ssmug face, the archangel says, “And please remember to enunciateyour words. If I have to spend an evening behaving like a vulgarbrust, you had best be the picture of civility and grace.”

“No promises.”

“Hmph.”

Strolling past them to the door, Fury throws itopen, standing in the entrance and tapping Death’s leather sabatonson the marble. “Can we get on with this before Abaddon or someoneelse comes looking for their choir boy?” At her remark, themaker’s lips draw back over his fangs and he snarls, only to presshis lips together a moment later, a look of surprise flitting acrosshis rugged features. “I do apologise. I don’t know where that camefrom.”

“Don’t apologise to her, Azrael,” Death sighs,following his own body to the door, a motion that does not fly overhis head. “She’s just moody because she knows Strife is boundto make a fool of her tonight.”

“Bootlicker,” she snaps behind the mask, “Thefirst thing I’m doing tonight is finding the nearest fountain andjumping in it with a wash cloth.”

Strife follows her next. He – for lack of abetter word – sashays over to the study’s entrance, throwing hiships out around each exaggerated step.

Cringing, War coughs into a closed fist. “Sincewhen does our sister walk with so much hip, Strife?” Theirmiddle brother glances back over his shoulder at the remaining three.“Too much?”

“Definitely,” War replies.

“Just a tad,” Azrael puts more gently. At hisside, Ulthane purses his lips and shakes his head.

“Right,” the sharp shooter nods, “Less ismore. Got it.”

Shoving his brother out the door, War moves afterhim, standing with the rest.

Letting out a tired exhale, Azrael angles his bulktowards Ulthane, his pointed ears twitching and giving away his mood.The angel smirks up at himself and slaps a hand above the other’senormous elbow. “You always were a worrier.”

“For good reason, I think.”

Ever so slightly, Ulthane’s smirk softens – itdidn’t feel like it belonged on his face anyway. “We’ll be fine.”

Azrael’s ears perk up a little and he allows thesmaller being to give him a gentle push, guiding him towards thearched doorway. “I suppose you must be right, my friend. Afterall-” He places his colossal hands on his hips and casts ascrutinising eye over the mismatched band. “-What could go wrong?”

Oddly enough, nobody felt like following that upwith an ensemble of ’everything.’

[bwitchinghour]

Bewitching Hour 2017 - Reveals

Your mods are so pleased with this fest! We hope that everyone has had as much fun as we have :) Without further ado, here are your Bewitching Hour 2017 participants!

Day One

follow me down (swallow it down) 

| ireallydontknowok | jikook

Jimin is tired. He's dragging his feet whenever they go anywhere, is always late to dinners and falls asleep during every movie they watch. He wears sunglasses indoors to try and hide the bruises under his eyes, but everyone knows. Jungkook is worried.

Head Above Water | bugarungus | vmin Jimin's dreams usually have meaning. That's why it's so important for him to rescue the boy from his nightmares before something happens to him outside their dreams.

a song of fire and fruit smoothies | teecysh | minjoon Namjoon is part dragon, and to his complete and utter embarassment, he can't stop collecting cute things for his hoard. Which would be fine except Jimin is the cutest person he's ever seen and it's becoming a real struggle not to collect him too...

White Strings of Gulls | atechamcham | vmin The life of a pirate has always been about gold, glory, power, and conquest. That's what Captain Taehyung's been taught all his life. All Jimin wants is to keep Taehyung alive. One day his magic won't be enough.

Dead Leaves | golden_kimono | yoonkook Jeongguk is a big fan of the TV show Dead Leaves, especially of Suga, one of the main characters. After writing a particular fanfic, he suddenly gets sucked into it himself and is up close and personal with the characters he admires so much. Is it real? Is it a dream? And will he find out his purpose before it's too late? (And does he really want to leave Suga?)

interlude | midnightghostwriter | gen in which a hobby for music gets jung hoseok unexpected attention and more trouble than he ever signed up for.

So Gold (We’ll Be Alright) | onceandforall | jinkook Jeon Jungkook is the witch community's next big thing and he needs all the help that he can get. or Five times Seokjin helps Jungkook and one time where everything works out how it's meant to be.

Day Two

call it magic (when i’m with you) | kthpjm | vmin Taehyung wonders how long he’s been in love with Jimin. Knows that he probably always has been.

Not everything happens for a reason | JimineexTae | vmin Taehyung believes in the reality of cause and effect, a predictable world where he already has everyone and everything figured out.And then Park Jimin and his existence somehow manages to ruin it all.

Why Did It Have To Be You? | realstadt | taekook In which Taehyung gives his sworn nemesis, Jeon Jeongguk, a love potion by accident.

Those Who Wander Are Lost | May Greene (btsmee) | gen It didn't matter. All returned eventually. None had ever truly left. Time was irrelevant.

I put a spell on you (and now you’re mine) | cosmicoffee | taegi, 2seok, minjoon To retrieve the heart of a fallen star, Min Yoongi ventured out into the woods one night. He instead was faced with a witch, who's broom had caught fire, holding onto a quest that was destined to change everything Yoongi had ever come to know.

Taste of Magic | thedarkestdawn | namkook Rookie witch Jungkook is apprenticed to newly qualified Namjoon.Neither of them are all that happy about this.

On Your Mark | Namless | namkook It's Namjoon and Jungkook's first time meeting. One wishes for something and the other's only there to fulfil this wish. Their only common point might be their unusual life mark. Except nothing goes accordingly: client and employer shouldn't feel some kind of attraction, really shouldn’t.

Day Three

Crinus Muto | apocryphalic | vmin Park Jimin's a sixth-year Prefect, top in his year in nearly all subjects except one: Transfiguration. Help is forced upon him in the form of Kim Taehyung, a fellow sixth-year with the rare gift of being born a metamorphmagus. Jimin's never been fond of Taehyung and when a spell goes awry, he's left to take care of Taehyung. Jimin learns that appearances are rarely what they seem and that quite possibly, he's misjudged Taehyung all along.

My Demons Follow Me | paechtae | taegi Taehyung let out a laugh that bordered on hysterical and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palm.“Okay going with the line of you eat my fucking dreams, which rude you didn’t even ask first, just– why?” You did ask though. Taehyung didn’t bother with responding this time, busy trying to figure out what exactly the demon was talking about. The demon reached back for the notebook again. You’re a very loud person when you sleep Kim Taehyung. You should be careful what you say and ask for. Crueler things in this world could have heard you.

through the looking glass | deuxoiseaux | namseok, namgi, yoonseok, namgiseok when kim namjoon finds a mysterious book in a language he's never seen, bookmarked with an address that doesn't exist, he can't help but be curious. drawn into a mirrored world that is at once familiar and impossible, with a man he's not sure he can trust, namjoon becomes an unwilling pawn in a struggle that can only end in death. all paths lead in a single direction, forward or back, and time is running out.

Vampire Vs. The God of Destruction  | lulublue1234 | namgi Yoongi's a vampire who's lived for three thousand years. Namjoon's a human prone to accidents. When the vampire unknowingly saves the human from the clutches of a Trickster, he finds himself soul-bonded to the man. Now Yoongi's irritated because....he likes the disruption more than he wants to admit.

there are many names in history (and none of them are ours) | ireallydontknowok | yoonkook, 2seok, vmin

unravel | homopoetic | yoonmin Jimin is a Third-Eye. He can't touch people skin to skin because the contact lets him see into their minds, viewing all their thoughts and secrets and desires at once. Yoongi's brother is a king. (Yoongi's brother is a cobra.) Changwoo sinks in his fangs, injects venom, takes what he isn't his. Yoongi's taken the poison, survived even as it permanently destroyed the layer of skin that keeps infections out, and built up a precarious sort of immunity. He's the only one who can do it. Yoongi is a prince. He's twenty-four years old. He's been grieving a loss for seventeen years now. No one noticed before. That's why he needs to keep Jimin.

Burns Blue | themarmalade | minjoon Jimin is used to relying on the wall he's built up in his mind to block out the constant swarm of thoughts and voices to get through a shift at work, to get through life. Namjoon, his shy new coworker, has an aura so loud it makes everything else go quiet. Jimin hates it. Jimin craves it. Jimin decides not to think about it. Namjoon, however, definitely thinks about him.

the pearl in the pond | hotpepperhoney | jinmin The mermaid rolled around and pressed his cheek to the sand, a happy sigh passing through his lips and blowing the sand near his face back into a small dune. Jimin leaned closer in the bushes, bracing against a nearby tree. He wanted to see more. The mermaid’s back sloped from the widest pair of shoulders he’d ever seen. Sand stuck to sections of his back and arms, a small river of sweat forming between the dip of his bowed spine. Jimin swallowed dryly. He had back dimples. His hand slipped.

Day Four

I’m drinking something lethal (must be you) | synecius | vmin Kim Taehyug, the self-proclaimed best Potions Maker in all of Dahlia, would be the first of his profession to have invented, prepared, and successfully completed the Most Powerful Love Potion Ever Created. But, does that really matters if it doesn't work on the one and only person he loves?

a letter to the moon | words_unravel | ot7

Graced | plantlet | gen Jeon Jungkook hates to be touched. He also hates his nightmares. But mostly, he hates to be alone.

Pieces of a whole | goodbyelover | yoonkook In a world where magic is just every day life and there's a slew of gods and goddesses to follow, Jungkook is just trying to do his best. Everything begins to change when he meets a mysterious tattoo artist named Min Yoongi.

fireflies | kaythebest | vmin When Jimin is six, his brother catches a fairy in a jar.

I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream | anatomiadea | yoonseok In a society where humans and supernatural creatures coexist together, Yoongi is a cursed human who he has been asleep for 500 years. Namjoon is the witch who was assigned to teach Yoongi about modern world, but he wasn´t able to find time to properly help the man and he asked his friend Hoseok, an earth witch, for help. Hoseok starts teaching Yoongi everything about the 21st century and Yoongi ends falling in love with the boy who looks so much like an old lover he had 500 years ago

Firepower | eclecticat | namjin, yoonseok If there’s one thing Kim Seokjin is expecting to see inside his freezer, it’s not a small scaly lizard lounging on top of his ice tray and eating an extremely small scoop of his expensive pistachio ice cream.

Dude, Don’t Be Scared | sunshlneboys | vmin It's 7am on a Saturday, It's not really going the way Jimin had hoped. He's currently handcuffed in a decidedly unsexy way, sitting in his living room and being questioned for murder by fairy police officers. All while his boyfriend sleeps peacefully upstairs. His weekend's not really off to a great start.

Day Five

Kindred Spirits | makitaechim (MnM_PD) | vmin, yoonjin Three Spell Casters. Two Roommates. Two best friends. One fucked up phone. One hell of a game. Will everyone survive a spell gone wrong?

every road leads back to you | vminism | vmin Taehyung knew, from the very first moment he met Jimin, that he was out of this world, unforgettable. He was only half right.

and we return to the beauty [from which we came] | spookynat | yoonmin yoongi is a writer and jimin is his come-to-life character

you’d think me rude but i would just stand and stare | melanic | vmin

There’s a Honey | mnsg | taegi Yoongi wakes up one morning to discover that everything he wished for has come true.

Keep You Alive | tinytaegi | vmin Jimin was about to go back to sucking his blood, but Taehyung kept giggling and Jimin murmured an annoyed “shut up”. Taehyung couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. “No, you shut up.” Jimin wanted to talk back but suddenly, it was as if his lips were glued together. The other was wheezing by now, doubling over before looking into Jimin’s eyes with a mischievous grin. “Get on your knees, babe.” And Jimin’s body moved on its own. or One bad life decision leads Jimin to be dependent on the most hated vampire in the city.

the sky that ate up the blue sea | krystaljung | jihope

Min Yoongi: Author and...Magical Prince? | quebaek | yoonseok “My lord.” Jungkook started. “No, stop!” Yoongi stood up, “Quit saying that. I’m not your lord. I’m a writer. I write novels. And you aren’t a page, okay? You’re just a barista at Starbucks. I don’t know how I got in this castle, but I don’t belong here and I’m not going to keep sitting on this goddamn throne all day.”

find me in your depths (save me with your soul | vminskook (Mery_Strider_Egbert) | taekook Kim Taehyung, a sworn knight to the royal family, is sent to Earth to find Jeon Jeongguk, the long-thought dead prince of the kingdom of Vescaria.

we who bore the mark | tendershipping | vminkook Each summer, Jeongguk and Seokjin take a backpacking trip. This year, they're separated, and Jeongguk finds himself very lost and far from alone.

Day Six 

Crocodile Tears | larryflurry | yoonmin, namjin "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." He said as his round cheeks started to turn a shade of pink, almost the same pink as his fluffy hair. Almost. "Sorry to disappoint you then" Yoongi stated in response. "And honestly, I thought you were supposed to be something else."

or the one where Jimin wasn't exactly what Yoongi was supposed to be looking for, but he found him and he's not about to complain about it

He’s a Phantom | feihart | jihope Jimin could hear the hushed voices of his parents discussing his poor performance with his physics’ teacher. They’ve had the same lengthy discussion so far with the chemistry teacher, the math teacher and the English teacher, his parents’ good mood dropping with each bad review they get. When asked, Jimin didn’t have a better explanation for them other than ghost-fighting and keeping up grades was hard to balance—but he couldn’t quite tell them that. OR That Danny Phantom AU nobody asked for.

[graftonway]

we shall fight

It’s been hours since the movie ended and I’ve taken the train home and listened to music and washed up and eaten grapes and scrolled through tumblr and still all I hear is this:

tickticktickticktickticktickticktick

You hear it throughout the film. It stays with you, seeping into your brain until you’re conditioned to it, until everything ticks and continues to, until you’re hyper-aware of rhythm and even phone notifications blinking, your typing, remind you of it. A friend described it perfectly as taking a long breath and not being able to breathe while holding it. The feeling that’s dropped to the bottom of my stomach hasn’t left yet; I’m still waiting for something to happen. I don’t even know what, but it’s stifling, tense, overwhelming. And that is all of Dunkirk in a nutshell.

This isn’t, strictly speaking, a war movie. Frankly I’m not even sure it’s a movie. It seems to be - or at least pretend towards being - everything: horror, thriller, documentary, symphony, cinematography, emotion, art. Much like the way it spans all three branches of the armed forces (land, sea, air), it tries to be everything at once. Perhaps in the hands of a lesser director this would have ended a disaster, but - and forgive me if I’m being crass with this comparison - Nolan, like Dynamo, plucks salvation from what could have been absolute catastrophe.

The first thing that you take away from Dunkirk is the sheer scale. Of course, as a history student, I’ve seen the photos of the beaches before, long unyielding lines that stretch as far as there is beach. Nolan does it slightly differently. Instead of one snaking, scattered queue there are multiple short ones, cinematic as anything and yet still overwhelming in number. It makes for a great introduction to the film, sets the stage for what’s to come. The aesthetic beauty that war sometimes begets versus the horrific reality it encompasses. The constant push and pull between the patience of the body of waiting men, never heard once to complain, and lack of time that’s played out again and again. Tiny, moving human parts and the weight of the unmentioned German war machine.

Nolan’s movies are always clever, though here the cleverness isn’t as immediately obvious as something like Inception. It’s a layer that you peel back and revel in as you watch. It’s something that builds up, in all its scattered parts and broken pieces, pieces that you collect and store until they come together and make sense. Take the premise of time here, for instance. Words on screen that are always meant to provide context do the opposite here: ‘the mole / one week’, ‘the sea / one day’, ‘the air / one hour’ make no sense to the viewer as they settle in. But all it takes is for one shot - Cillian Murphy’s face in the dark on a boat, straight after his appearance in the bright sunshine on a different vessel - to realise what it means: the action is all taking place in a different time scale. And that moment hits you like a punch in the gut, even though it’s the most simple of revelations. A perfectly positioned callback. Without even knowing why you begin to watch the film differently, all because of the buildup that explodes with one miniscule yet incredibly powerful detail.

It’s this same kind of buildup that squeezes itself into the music. The movie lurches between sound from the get go - the quiet of walking down the street to the startling pops of gunfire, the brief moment before the torpedo hits to the jarring explosion. War sets in here without a single line of expository dialogue, the way it can weigh down other films (the “war is hell, boys” trope that even Hacksaw Ridge was guilty of). Instead all we get is the constant, jarring soundtrack, so loud and in your face that you are drawn into all of the violence and spectacular chaos (something that the multiple timelines also lend themselves to). This builds and builds until it ends, abruptly, twice: firstly, when the Little Ships come into view, and secondly, on the train that Tommy and Alex crumple into. The suddenness of the way it ends is as jarring as any explosion or loud dramatic orchestral note, all the more sharp for its absence. We get sweeping, nostalgic strings over the view of the flotilla, and pure silence (combined with the same sweeping music later) when Tommy falls into the seat.

Which is why so much weight comes to rest upon just these two scenes - the ships and the ending - and why I want to talk about those in particular. It will come as no surprise that they’re the two I cried at; as a kid I read about the Dunkirk spirit and the Churchill speech, and they both have special meaning for me. Add to that me just being a complete and utter sap for nostalgia, sentiment, painfully obvious emotional manipulation.

There’s enough emotional impact in the story of the Little Ships themselves that any film could pull it off with suitable heroic payoff, but it’s just done so very well here. The ticking of the pressure cooker and the fear of death instantly vanishes, replaced by the heartwarming, exceedingly British orchestra. For there is some measure of nationalism (I hesitate to say propaganda, but) with this, as with all war movies; it’s an unavoidable trope, yet one handled so well here. It’s muted - the only flag is the one in the small corner of a larger blue flag, blurred in the background of Mr. Dawson’s boat. Bolton (a place name in and of itself) calls out to some of them, asking where they’re from. And in the end the boats go by an approximation of Dover. But the real focus is on the humanity of the people who came to save the troops. No dialogues or stars in these scenes: just civilians, just ‘home’. Some reviews were critical about the lack of character names and the like, but I think that was done intentionally for this reason, to demonstrate how humanity is about being and not knowing. With the lack of the tickticktick in the background Dunkirk’s first message is, ironically, hammered through: in a movie so packed with tension, it isn’t actually the tension that’s important, but how we escape it. Only later do you get introduced to some of the characters’ personal lives - Dawson is so determined because his son died - but that doesn’t matter, because the heroism is already there. If the movie is a breath you’ve been holding then the Little Ships are the moment you breathe out.

Character development is hardly present in the movie, which makes it all the more impressive that we still manage to feel for and care for every single one of them; I think this is one of the greatest achievements of the film, in that Nolan somehow gets to the heart of war and the rawest of our emotions. Too many war movies get bogged down in character development, the false belief that you need to know the character in order to feel for them shifting the focus away from showing actual war itself. But Nolan understands this, and makes the choice not to identify his characters. The three Mole soldiers look the same; the French soldier’s real name is never given; and Tommy’s name is a generic epithet for all British soldiers. They have no personal characteristics at all. And yet, when Gibson is drowning inside the boat, your heart seizes; you want him, desperately, to get out. Here Dunkirk takes on the shape of the great war novels, like the nameless French soldier in All Quiet On The Western Front. This is the horror of war - that everyone dies - and the real way to experience it is being frightened of death itself, not just fleshed-out characters you have come to feel for dying.

In fact there’s barely any dialogue in the movie, either, except for necessary communication; Bolton is the most heavy-handed in exposition, but otherwise words are limited to observations about the tide, speculation on target practice, explanation for locking the door. Which is why everything that isn’t technical carries so much weight. Collins’s breezy ‘afternoon’ regardless of his near-death experience might be played for laughs but it’s also a conscious remarking on the stereotypical British spirit. One that struck me deeply is Peter’s ‘he’s fine’ to the Shivering Soldier (or something to that effect) - in just one phrase the dilemma of shell shock, the question of blame, and the soldier’s innocence are perfectly captured. But my favourite, of course, as someone weaned on Churchill, is the speech.

As a twelve, thirteen year old I memorised that speech, word for word, all the way till the end. I’ve listened to it many times. And I can’t even begin to explain how emotional I got when Tommy began to read it out and all the cuts from each time period began to intersect with each other. If ever the movie was disparate (and I don’t think it was, and I don’t agree with people who did) it came together at the end, each thread drawn together by possibly the most iconic, recognisable historical device. The sense of unity, of destiny, of a swelling, growing belief in the job left. The two last images of the film - the burning spitfire and Tommy’s face - cleave so perfectly into each other; I don’t think I’ve felt that kind of breathtaking momentousness from an ending for a very, very long time. Farrier gets captured but he’s also arguably the biggest hero of the film, saving countless numbers of people on the beach that hour. He ends up captured and his plane ends up burning, but the Germans didn’t burn it - he did, and in doing so it becomes a symbol of defiance in the face of defeat. We are always reminded that this is a defeat. But that doesn’t signal futility and devastation.

One of the reasons I say that this isn’t a war movie is because the enemy is never really there. Besides the last scene, where Farrier is captured, you don’t see any German soldiers (and even those are blurred out). That gives you the impression that this isn’t about triumph, in any way, but about survival, as the old man in the end so neatly put it. All we did was survive. That’s enough. Many horrors of war are depicted here. Drowning in the locked hull of a torpedoed ship, waiting patiently on a packed bridge for Messerschmits to strafe you. Violence, while not graphic, is never shied away from. Tension and impending doom is built masterfully, whether through Collins’ helplessness watching Farrier or Bolton closing his eyes to wait for death. But while you get the feeling that it is inescapable, you never get the feeling that it is insurmountable, and that is what Dunkirk is about, really. My major qualm with the movie before I watched it was how they were going to turn it into a triumphant, gun-waving kind of thing when it was a defeat. But it’s not about defeating the Germans, because as Churchill said wars are not won by evacuation. Not even about the end of a battle given the continuous references to what is yet to come. It’s about what matters most to us, what the ‘Dunkirk’ used in modern British parlance now refers to: human spirit and endeavor. Battling on.

Dunkirk is probably not the greatest war movie I’ve ever watched (although that is a topic for another time). It has, of course, its problems. I’m not sure how much credence the lack of poc claim has as I haven’t had the time to go look it up yet, but other tiny things niggle here and there. Yet one of the major criticisms I’ve heard about this movie is that it’s too intense and action focused and, of all things, I think that that’s the least concerned anyone should be about it. You can’t capture all of war in a single movie. You can barely capture certain experiences. If other movies are allowed to develop other aspects, like character and the mundanity of war, why shouldn’t Dunkirk be allowed to dig deep into the terrifying tension and uncertainty that is so fundamentally a part of it (being shelled while in foxholes is another example that comes to mind)? There is emotion in intensity, and humanity is found everywhere. Even in the most painful, most terrible of times. 

There’s a trope in Waiting For Godot about the weary, fallible hero, the human struggling to create meaning and stay alive in the most downtrodden noble sense. It’s a trope I’ve always thought applies to the way the British view themselves and certainly something that applies here, weary soldiers and civilians alike picking themselves up with the haunted promise in Tommy’s face. Youthful and yet tattered, dark and hollow yet with a measure of steel that lends backbone to that famous line: we shall go on to the end.