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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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Part two of my AU! You should start with But What If, Instead, or you may be a little confused. Or just dive in, that's cool too. Be a sexy rebel. It's what BJ would want.

He’s sixteen when green starts to grow on his face. He’s been dealing with the hair for years, now, and it’s mostly stable. Sure, he gets overwhelmed, and sure, it can still change quickly, but it’s not like when he was twelve and threw fits all the time that resulted in fire engine red. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at handling anger, for sure, for sure, for sure. That award will probably always go to his mother, Emily. But he’s gotten better at treating everything like a joke, which totally helps. Can’t get mad at what you don’t take seriously, right? It’s a philosophy that seems to frustrate his dad, who, in Betelgeuse’s opinion, takes everything way too seriously. Chuckster is lucky he’s got Emily to balance him out, or that case of stick in ass might have become terminal. So, yeah, alright, the green. He’s been growing facial hair lately, a thin pathetic little pencil mustache that nine year old Lydia calls his “creepo-stache,” and he’d be the first to admit, it’s pretty John Waters-esque, but it’s what he’s got, for now. That hair, of course, grows in green, and mixed with the corpse purple untertones he still hasn’t quite learned to glamour away convincingly, the effect is that he perpetually looks like he’s ready to put on a zombie remake of a 70’s porno. Metaphors sure are fun. At least the upper lip is starting to fill out, and the chin scruff has been on the rise, too, though he’s a far cry away from Charles’ majestic beard. He’s staring in his bathroom mirror after a shower, admiring his chubby, totally sexy self, when he notices a splotch of green on the left side of his nose. He smooshes his nose down a little with one hand, leans in closer, and squints. Must be somethin’ he ate? On his nose? For some reason? But then he notices there’s the same slight green color at his temples, too. He settles on scrubbing his face until his skin hurts a little, and when he’s done, he’s so flushed he can’t see the color, and assumes the matter is settled. And then a few days later, it’s darker. He’s sitting at dinner with the whole family, chewing with his mouth open to annoy Lydia, who gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. “Now, if you ever hit me, and I find out about it,” he starts to tease, until he feels his mom flick his ear, and he turns to her. “You got some schmutz on your face, Bug. Come here.” Emily blots her napkin to her tongue, and then wipes at his nose, much to his chagrin. “Ew, seriously? Maaaaa,” he whines, but everyone at that table knows he’s soaking up the attention like a sponge. “I for sure feel so much cleaner with your spit smeared around my face, thank you so much, Emily Deetz.” Emily shooshes him and continues rubbing, but her napkin comes away clean. “Huh,” she glances down at it, and then back to the spot on the side of his nose, and squints. Lydia and Charles are leaning in too, now, and his sister grins. “There’s some on his forehead, mama, get him there,” and she’s successful in weaponizing their mother against him, because he hardly has time for a “Damn you-” before Emily is rubbing at the green stains on his temples, near his hairline. “What the heck is this, ink?” “I dunnoooo!” he winges, wiggling just enough to let her know he’s unhappy but not enough to flail and hurt her. When she finally relents and lets him go, a third hand sprouts from his back to pull the “hood” part of his black and white striped hoodie over his head, and he tightens the draw strings. “No more smearing spit on BJ, now, that part of dinner is done,” he says defensively, and Emily has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Bug,” she pats his head, and he hisses in response, but no one, not even him, takes that seriously anymore. It’s a few more days until there’s a break in the case. He’s standing upside down on his bedroom ceiling, concentrating on a certain riff on his ukelele, and Lydia is flopped on his bed, passively watching Coraline on the beat up vintage TV he and Charles spent last summer fixing up. “I can’t get this to sound right,” he complains to her, and in response,

she turns the movie up louder. “Oh, haha, my sister, the fuckin’ comedianne, she’ll be here all week, everybody,” and he flops on the mattress next to her, which makes her bounce a bit before they both settle. He’s laying on his back, ukulele on his chest, mumbling and strumming, and she’s on her stomach, watching that kinda horny scene where the nude old lady with the huge honkers unzips her fuckin’ skin, when she glances over at him. “Your face spots are fuzzy, now,” she comments. “It’s called a beard, short stack. Dad’s had one since you were five, you’d think-” “Shut up, dummy, I meant the schmaltz.” “You mean the schmutz. Different words mean different things.” “Whatever. Your nose is growing hair, like grandpa. It’s barforiffic.” He frowns, and sets the ukulele down besides his bed, and conjures himself a little hand mirror from his pocket dimension. Lydia’s breath hitches, because no matter how many years it’s been, she still loves that trick, the way it’s like he’s pulling something out of nothing. He stares at the splotches in his hand mirror, beholding his face in mock horror like that episode of the Twilight Zone, the one with the pig faced people. All other details aside, she’s right, the splotches are growing hair, sort of. It doesn’t feel exactly like hair, when he reaches an experimental finger to poke at it, it’s sort of.. He can’t describe it. Grassy? Not really hair, more like a short, fuzzy… “It’s moss,” he realizes, positioning the mirror to check his forehead, where the vegetation is growing softly there, too. “Gross. How often do you shower, you neanderthal?” Lydia scrunches up her nose at him. “Careful, or you’re getting a face full of demon pits when you’re tryna sleep tonight,” he bites back at her. “I shower a normal amount. Maybe..” sharp teeth worry his bottom lip as he thinks. “I’m showering too much?” “That can’t possibly be your take away from this.” “Well I don’t know, Ly-dee-uhh,” he drags out her name. “It’s not like I’ve got a handy dandy guide to being an undead demon thing tucked away that explains all the rules that come with bein’ me, okay? I’m just thinkin’, I could count as dead cause, ya know. No heartbeat. Dead people probably.. I mean plants might grow on em, right? Like if one was left murdered and unburied in th’ world, like in a damp forest, and surrounded by nature, maybe somethin’ would grow on their putrid, rotting corpse flesh?” Lydia sits up, and leans over him, pushing the hand mirror out of the way. “I’m picking this off of you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” she says, simply, and then uses her surprisingly strong kid strength to dig into the runny splotch on his left temple. She runs a nail up his skin, scraping at him, and he purrs in response, tongue flicking out of his mouth, snake like. “Big scary demon dead guy, and all it takes to tame him is a little bit of attention,” she teases, and he gives another half hearted hiss. “You’re like a cat, BJ.” When she’s finished, she cleans under her nails and looks pleased. “I think I got it,” she nods, and he checks in his hand mirror. They both watch in silence as the moss seems to instantly grow back. “Moooooom!” he whines, sitting up and tossing the hand mirror over his shoulder, where it disappears into nothing without touching the ground, tucked back safe in his pocket dimension. Emily pokes her head in a moment later. “Yeah, what’s up, Beej?” She’s got her long blonde hair all done in a neat bun, and there’s the slight tone of exasperation to her voice. “You kids aren’t fighting, right?” she asks, stepping into the room. “I am literally just sitting here,” Lydia motions to the tv, still displaying the stop motion exploits of her current idol and role model. “The green crap on my face, it’s moss!” Betelgeuse whines to her, outright ignoring her question to begin with. “I’m growing moss on my face, and Lyds scraped it off but it instantly grew back!” “It was kinda cool,” Lydia admits, not giving her older brother the satisfaction of looking at him when she says it. Emily,

meanwhile, puts a finger on her chin, and scrunches up her nose in thought. “Maybe.. Some weed killer might get rid of it?” she suggests, clearly unsure. “So you want me to drink POISON,” Betelgeuse instantly flops back on the bed, left hand thrown over his forehead, all dramatic. “Lured me into the family just to try and murder me years later, huh? You fooled me! With love!” He opens his eyes in time to see both Emily and Lydia rolling theirs. “You can’t just magic it away?” Lydia pokes the moss on his nose. “The way you did your last report card?” “Judas,” he hisses, dropping the glamour enough to glare at her with his snake slit amber eyes. “You did what?” ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` He’s back at school on Monday with a bandaid fix, which is literally a couple band aids across the spots, one plastered on his nose, the other one a large patch bandage on the spot on his temples where the green was growing in the most clearly. The bandages noticeably don’t blend in with his skin tone, despite touting themselves as flesh colored, because he’s got skin like a guy who never left his basement, and also is freshly fuckin’ dead. For extra cover, he’s wearing his “Guide” hat, a ratty gray policeman’s cap with a metal plate spelling out the word. Charles had bought for him from a Goodwill his first year up top. It does enough to hide the streaks of green, as long as he pulls it down a bit, and he’s not exactly known at school for being a style icon, so nobody thinks twice to see him wearing it, as he slips from the front seat of Charles’ car that morning. “Have a good day, son. Call me if.. If you need me,” Charles reminds him, and Lydia pipes up from the backseat. “Later, Bug beverage. Good luck.” She’s still feeling a bit guilty about snitching, apparently, because she blows him a kiss, which is super uncool and she clearly wants to take it back the second she’s done it, but he grins and pretends to catch it. “Later, family,” he closes the car door, and turns to face his day. School, he had learned a few years ago, is a uniquely breather torture experience thought up by the old to make the young loose out on their precious youths, there by getting back at them for being young and fun. That was his working theory all through his miserable first year of middle school, and high school is not disproving that theory in the least. He’s vaguely aware of the cliques that the breathers his age form, and there’s probably gossip about him, but for the most part, he’s just too weird for most of the humans his age to engage with him. He’s kind of got an aura, an indefinable something he can’t switch off, and it’s getting stronger the older he gets. Breathers are naturally more wary of him than they used to be. So yeah, he is the weird chubby kid in the striped hoodie and matching tripp pants, and under normal circumstances, he has to believe that would lead to bullying, but whatever ancient animal instinct these kids have, it tells them to steer clear of him. So school is, to put it frankly, lonely. It’s probably better to be mostly ignored than hated, he supposes, but that doesn’t make eating lunch in the quad by himself every day any less pathetic. He’s zoning out in first period, relaxing in his slacker seat in the back of the class, when things actually get interesting. Their teacher is a sort of slim, nervous looking man who teaches history, but right at that moment he’s announcing a new student. And it’s someone Betelgeuse recognizes, though he can’t place from where. The new boy, Kevin something Loh, apparently, is directed to take the only empty seat in the class, the seat right in front of Betelgeuse. As Kevin is walking down the aisle towards him, Betelgeuse is wracking his brain, trying to recall. Kevin is Asian, with high cheekbones and short black hair, carefully and deliberately styled. He’s also staring right at Betelgeuse. “You?” he whispers, sounding horrified. “Me,” Betelgeuse responds, propping his history book up on his desk and slumping down behind it, deciding he’s

fully content with napping this period away, and leaving this mystery unsolved. But Kevin is apparently worse at reading social cues than BJ is, because he’s still standing there, looming over Betelgeuse. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, sounding angry now, and Betelgeuse peaks up at him, amber eyes shining a faint amount from under the brim of his cap. “I am literally just sitting here.” “Mr. Loh, is there a problem?” their teacher askes, and the new kid whips around. “I refuse to sit next to this thing.” He points at Betelgeuse, who straightens up, a scowl playing across his features. “You wanna rephrase that?” the demon askes, gravely voice particularly dangerous sounding, because he’s NOT a thing. The humans all take note of the changing vibes in the room, growing uncomfortable. “Does someone want to switch with Mr. Loh, and sit in front of Mr. Deetz instead?” their teacher tries. The answer is silence. No one is giving up their seat next to friends to sit in front of the loner who smells like freshly dug grave dirt. “Well, then. Sit down, Mr. Loh. Mr. Deetz does not bite.” “But-” “Yeah, sit down, Kev, you’re interrupting my mid morning nap,” Betelgeuse scowls, fingers on his right hand twitching, and Kevin falls into his seat with a less than macho sounding yelp. From the glare he gets in return, he’s got a feeling Kevin’s not gonna be his new bff. When lunch rolls around, Betelgeuse finds his usual place in the quad, under the shade of a tree, and he’s about to summon forth his lunch from his little pocket dimension, when he hears a breather approaching from behind him. He’s sitting on the side that faces away from the main area, and all the happy friend groups enjoying their lunches and gossip, and towards the track field, cause if he’s gonna be sitting alone, at least he’s gonna get to watch boys and girls his age work up a sexy sweat. From a quick smell test he can tell the person approaching is Kevin. The guy reeks of some overly applied body spray mess, and it nearly puts him off his lunch. “What,” he groans, annoyed, not even looking back to address the other boy, and Kevin seems to freeze. He’d apparently thought he was being pretty sneaky. “Why are you following me?” is the first thing out of the new kid’s mouth, and that does actually cause Betelgeuse to turn and look at him, staring like Kev’s just proposed the earth is only round because Atlus keeps reinflating it to use like a blow up doll. “I,” Betelgeuse gestures very dramatically to himself. “Don’t knoooow,” he continues slowly. “Who you are.” Kevin, for some reason, seems to wilt a bit. “You really don’t remember me?” “I really don’t. Should I? You do somethin’ interestin’? Besides, single handedly keep Axe body spray in business?” “It’s not Axe!” Kevin stomps over to stand in front of him, offended. “Then axe it, my man, cause that scent is not workin’ for you,” Betelgeuse replies easily, leaning back against the tree to resume his track practice spying. “You juggled your head!” Kevin accuses him. Betelgeuse cocks an eyebrow, and his eyes flit back to Kevin. So he’s someone who had seen him use his powers, at some point? Yeesh. “You brought a field of pumpkins to life and nearly murdered me!” Ohhhh. “Yeah, well, you pushed me down,” Betelgeuse says, suddenly remembering. “So I guess we both suffered that day, didn’t we, Kev?” “So you admit it!” Kevin says tenselely, before sitting in the grass across from him. Betelgeuse watches him quietly. The breather seems confused. “Why are you here?” he asks, and Betelgeuse nods over at the bouncing, glistening track team. “The view.” Kevin glances in that direction and rolls his eyes. “Jackass, I meant at school,” he dead pans. Betelgeuse grins. “Well, th’ way my dad explained it, I have to be in government mandated kid jail, or else he goes to adult jail.” “So you’re a monster who has to go to school?” “Demon, but. Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he whispers the word. “Demon.” There’s a beat as he ponders over that. “Those people, who were with you at the store.. Are they demons

too?” “What? Th’ Deetzs? Nah. They’re human as they come.” “And you live with them?” “Yup,” he pops the “p,” quickly growing annoyed with this line of questioning. “And they-” “Listen, man,” Betelgeuse apparates his lunch from nothing, which causes Kevin to flinch, before realizing it's just food. “Can we skip all this? It’s a life changing revelation for you, I’m sure, but forget bored stiff, this is giving me rigor mortis. Yes, I’m a demon. I go to school here cause I’m th’ Deetz’s son, and no, there’s nothing wrong with them.” He grimaces. “Just me. I’m not following you around to torment you, you’re not that special. And yes,” he holds up the sandwich from his lunch. “This is a turkey club on a croissant. My human dad packed it for me, because he loves me.” There’s a small moment of silence. Kevin opens his mouth, and Betelgeuse, own mouth now full of food, groans. “Why do you have bandages all over your face?” “Because I murdered a pedophile four years ago and his vengeful, freak ass ghost won’t let it go.” “Really?” “No. That’s not even how ghosts work. God, breathers are so gullible.” “You’re such a dick,” Kevin replies, but there’s a faint hint of a smile, there. Betelgeuse feels it tugging at his own lips, too. “I’m growing moss on my face,” he admits after a moment. “Wasn’t sure how else to keep it hidden, so. Bandages. Not that I really care what people think-” “I can tell from the tripp pants, yeah,” Kev interjects, and Betelgeuse flips him off before continuing. “I’m not trying to get a bunch of attention for being weird.” “Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Kevin comments, picking lazily at the grass around him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “I was twelve. I’ve gotten a bit smarter, even if I was dragged kickin’ an’ screamin’ th’ whole damn way,” and this time, Kevin actually does smile. He mimics the other boy. He offers Kevin half his sandwich, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t eat lunch alone. They wait after school together, watching as their peers are picked up or loaded onto buses. “I used to have nightmares about you,” Kevin tells him, and Betelgeuse smiles flirtatiously. “So you’ve been dreamin’ of me. That’s hot.” He receives a punch in the arm for that. When his mom pulls up, with Lydia in tow in the backseat, he throws open the front passenger side door of the car. “Hey, ma, hey Lyds,” but Emily is looking past him. “BJ, is that a friend of yours?” She sounds thrilled. He turns and looks at Kevin, then back to her, and shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I dunno. He’s new, so we hung out at lunch, an’ talked. Maybe. I dunno.” “You should invite him over!” Emily grins, eyes shining. “Now?” “Now! We’re having take out for dinner, we could order more for him, easy! And he’s new, he probably doesn’t have any plans, and-” “Alright, alright, hold on,” he gripes, then waives Kevin over. The breather approaches the car, cautious. “Hey, so my mom, she says you can come over for dinner, if you want,” and God/Satan, he’s never felt more like an awkward, pimply faced teen than he does at that exact moment. If he sounds like a total loser, at least Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, cause he perks up. “Let me call my dad!” he whips out his cell phone so fast, Betelgeuse feels flattered. He actually wants to come over. He wants to spend some time together. Emily’s smile widens until she looks like a slasher on happy pills, and he climbs into the car front seat and nudges her. “Play it cool, ma,” he all but begs, and she looks to him. “I’m super cool, BJ. I’m a cool mom. Right, Lyds?” Lydia gives her best noncommittal shrug, the one Betelgeuse taught her, actually. “He said yes!” Kevin comes jogging back over to the car a minute later. “If that’s really okay, Mrs. Deetz?” “For sure! The more, the merrier!” They moved out of the apartment a little over a year ago. The new place had been a nightmare when they’d moved in, a Tudor style house with a lot of character, a lot of leftover trash, and a lot of bugs. He’d set about fixing that instantly, hunting down the tasty snacks, and Emily had stood in the middle of

the mess, chewing her bottom lip, and thinking. “I know, I know, it’s rough,” Charles had stood there, suddenly looking older than his age in a way Betelgeuse did not like. “But it’s a beautiful old house, with good bones, and room to grow, and.. It’s going to be a lot of work.” Lydia, precocious and eight, shuffled between her parents, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dump,” she declared, and both the adults looked down at her. “It’s not a dump,” Emily said. “It’s The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” “Em!” Seemingly ignoring her husband, she turned and went back to the car, and didn’t return until she had her record player and a sample of her collection of vinyl with her. “BJ! Come give this a shock, please? The power’s not on yet.” Betelgeuse apparated at her side, a new trick he’d been practicing, and Emily, ever Emily, didn’t even flinch. She just patted his head, as he grabbed the cord and gave it a shock of green static. She placed a record in the player, and adjusted the needle. The familiar sounds of Calypso began to fill the house. “Let’s clean up,” Emily smiled, and, singing along and dancing and laughing, the family had begun their first of many clean ups. It’s a nice memory, one he looks back on often. They’re pulling up to the house, Kevin in tow, and despite the unease he feels at having a new person in his space, at least their house, full of love, is a comforting energy to be wrapped in.

They lead Kevin in, and he follows Betelgeuse up to his bedroom.

“So, we got your common bedroom items,” he gestures grandly as they enter his space. “Dead rat, TV, dresser, mirror for inter dimensional travel, severed head for juggling,” he acknowledges that moment in their shared history. “Old trunk full of demon secrets,” he gives the antique steamer trunk by the foot of his bed a kick. It pops open to reveal very normal looking magazines. “All that good stuff.” The wall paper he chose for his room is a black and white pinstripe that dad had called “busy,” and mom had called “him,” and Kevin blinks a bit in surprise. “You, uh, really are dedicated to the stripes, huh? I prefer a simple black myself.. Black is always a statement.” Betelgeuse snorts. “It’s my pattern,” he says, and Kevin sort of nods, clearly not getting it. He tries again. “It’s, you know, important?” Kevin glances at him, and nods again, but seemingly more hesitant. “It’s a demon thing,” Betelgeuse says finally, tired of even his own clunky attempts at subtly. “My animal is a snake,” he explains. “And my colors are black and white.” Kevin looks mystified. “So, what does that… mean?”

“Means it’s my aspect. It’s important.. Demon stuff.”

The teens look at each other. Kevin squints. “You don’t know what it means.” “I got no fuckin’ clue,” Betelgeuse admits, flopping on his back in the air and hanging there, reclining on nothing. “It’s somethin’, somethin’, dominion over th’ beasts that crawl on their bellies, foul an’ tainted, I think was th’ phrase. But I don’t usually get many chances to be around snakes, so it’s not a talent I get to practice much.” Kevin looks insanely jealous of the way he’s floating there, weightless, which was exactly the point Betelgeuse had in mind when he struck the floating pose to begin with. “Point bein’, I’m drawn to black an’ white.”

“Same way you’re drawn to sweaty track stars?” Kevin smirks, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Fuckin’ exactly,” Betelgeuse grins at him, a smile Kevin matches. He might be out of his mind, but he feels something here. Kevin’s a good looking guy, and Betelgeuse isn’t exactly “picky.” He’s known for a long time his exact type is “someone who will give Betelgeuse attention and affection,” without worrying what exactly that means in the long run. “Gross,” rings a female voice, and the prolonged eye contact between the teens is broken by his nine year old sister, leaning against the door frame. She takes in the scene before her, him floating there, and Kevin.. Kevin seemingly looking a little flustered on the bed. He’s not sure if she gets what that’s about, hell, he hardly does, though he likes it. But she’s a bit young to pick up on romantic vibes, he thinks. Hopefully. “You’re not even trying to hide the whole, being a demon thing, are you?” she scowls. “Whatever, he already knew. He recognized me from the pumpkin patch. You probably don’t remember, you were five, but-” “I remember.” She squints, and then looks at Kevin, who gives a little waive. “What exactly are your intentions with my demon brother?” she asks, crossing her arms. Kevin actually blushes, a reaction Betelgeuse can both see and smell. Smells like blood and hormones, and it’s cute… he’s cute. “He’s just… weird. I’m, you know.. I just wanna know more. About him, and demons, and this otherworldly, supernatural business.” Ah. A little disappointing. He tries not to look let down, but he knows Lydia catches the look on his face. God/Satan, she’s a clever kid. “BJ isn’t your personal encyclopedia of paranormal bullshit. Besides, he hardly knows anything.” “Fuckin’ rude.” “Well!” she throws her hands up, a gesture he recognizes that she’s picked up from Emily. “I’m just saying, you don’t know enough to be that interesting.” He drops to his feet and puts a hand out, and she glares at him as an invisible force gently pushes her towards the door. “That’s enough, I think you’ve fulfilled your annoying little sibling requirements for today,” he grates at her, and she’s about out the door when Charles’ voice booms from downstairs. “Dinner!” Dinner is from Charles’ favorite Thai place, and the amount of food ordered seems to throw Kevin off guard. There’s a tall stack of delicious smelling styrofoam boxes, all of which are systematically set on the kitchen counter in a line, and the Deetz family goes through with plates, and helps themselves. It becomes clear pretty quickly that the amount ordered has more to do with who is eating, and not what they’re eating. Betelgeuse simply picks up two or three boxes instead of a plate, and settles at the table. His excuse for being a glutton has always been that his powers require a lot of energy for upkeep, but he’s not actually sure if that’s true. Also, it’s an excuse he’s never actually had to use, at least not in this house, because despite being somewhat akin to a garbage disposal in terms of food, his parents never give him any crap for eating. When he’d shown up, a skinny feral bitey little fuck, they’d been very encouraging of him stuffing his face. Now he’s older, obviously, and maybe he’s a bit chubby for his age, but it seems the entire family figures it’s better than looking starved, like he did before. He doesn’t think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat, but it feels good to have a full stomach, and he likes the way food tastes, so yes, he eats a lot. The way he sees it, it just means more B-Man to go around. Kevin, meanwhile, takes a polite amount and sits down next to him. “So, Kevin! Today was your first day?” Emily smiles brightly to the teen, who nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my dad now, so... new school,” he explains. Betelgeuse has the urge to pick up one of his boxes of food and take a cartoonish bite, like it’s a sandwich, but he doesn’t think that gag will play, right at this moment. “BJ has never brought a friend over before,” Charles says, unhelpfully. “Have too!” Betelgeuse protests, because he’s not trying to look like a total freak ass loser in front of the one person who seems

interested in talking to him.

Charles furrows his brow. “Who..? Oh, well…” he pauses. “I don’t know if.. If Sam counts…” “Sam was cool,” Lydia interjects, staring at Kevin, the unfinished half of her sentence being, “unlike you.” He’s got no clue why she’s gunning for Kev the way she is, but it’s kinda funny to watch a nine year old intimidate a teen. “He came over, didn’t he? Sure, it was uninvited, through a mirror, but I’m counting it anyways.” “BJ,” Charles starts, but Betelgeuse just shrugs. “It’s fine, dad. He knows. He was at the pumpkin patch.” It takes Charles and Emily a moment, but they both suddenly look nervous. “BJ is a good kid!” Emily blurts immediately, sounding defensive and looking at Kev, who sort of gives a nod. “It’s cool, I… threw tantrums when I was little, too. I mean, mine weren’t like. Cool vegetation apocalypses, but, you know.” He gives an easy shrug, before looking at Betelgeuse. “Who is Sam? Another demon?” “A better demon,” Lydia mutters, and at this point, he’s a second away from teleporting her into the neighbor’s pool. “He’s like Santa for Halloween, if Santa enforced Christmas time cheer with extreme violence.” “He’s Halloween Krampus,” Emily supplies helpfully, and he nods. “He’s the spirit of Halloween, and he’s cool. He’s only around one night, and he’s usually busy workin’, but when he gets a moment he pops in and we hang out. You’d probably-” like him isn’t exactly the right words. Humans don’t tend to feel easy in Sam’s presence. “- get along?” he finishes, but that also doesn’t seem likely. Sam isn’t outright cruel… usually. But his aura is clearly threatening, and he doesn’t play nice. The only reason Betelgeuse isn’t worried about his humans is because Sam has very clear, very structured rules. Rules that Emily had already been following, regardless of demonic threat. Also, last Halloween, Lydia had gone as Sam, orange jumpsuit, burlap sack and button eyes and everything, and Sam, ever a being of few words, had said, Flattered. He figures that probably earned the Deetz family at least one get out of murder free card. “This is all so cool,” Kevin twirls his fork around his pad phak. “It’s like, something from a movie. I can’t believe demons are.. Real. And I know about them.” There is, for a moment, a shine in his eyes that makes Betelgeuse uncomfortable, but it passes so quickly, he starts to assume he imagined it. He gives in, picks up a styrofoam box full of spicy chicken, and takes a bite out of the whole thing. His dad groans. After they’re done eating, they play video games, and whatever that moment was at dinner, he forces himself to forget it. Kevin is cute, and Kevin wants to talk to him, and that’s about as much as he cares to think about, right now. When Mr. Loh comes to pick him up, Kevin gives Betelgeuse’s hand a squeeze. It’s just the two of them, on the front porch, under the stars only he can see, because light pollution makes them invisible to the human eyes. Still, the setting feels intimate, and that hand holding cements it, at least at that moment. He’s not imagining it. “See you tomorrow?” Kevin smiles, and Betelgeuse knows his face flushes a little more purple at that. “Uh, yeah, for sure,” he says, and Kevin steps off the front porch and hurries to his dad’s car, their moment broken, but he stands there a while anyways, even after the car disappears down the street. He takes his own hand in hand, and gives it a squeeze, trying to imitate what Kevin had done flawlessly. He wanders inside after a while, but just stands with his back to the front door, replaying that simple moment over and over, until Charles, passing him on his way up to bed, pauses. “BJ? Your hair is… pink.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #otho beetlejuice

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jaehotbuns · 4 years

Text

dream in a dream

rating: nc-17

word count: 7942

characters: you x ten ft. johnny, seulgi

genre: magical!au, angst, goblin inspired (sunnyxgrim reaper)

warnings: brief mentions of blood

summary: the princess stumbled upon a stranger, laying against a tree with an arrow locking him into place. she seeks higher powers to free him but there is a condition to toying with fate. as you watch her fall for him, you can’t seem to stop falling for him as well. when he confesses his feelings for you, you realize that this isn’t the first time you’ve all met and what unfolds is the punishment for falling in love with the right person but at the wrong time.

“Princess! Princess! Please slow down!” You huffed as you hiked up your long ribbed skirt as you tried to grab footing on the slippery rocks that were laced with disgustingly moist green moss while chasing your responsibility, Princess Heiran, who practically pounced from the round crevices with ease. “You’re going to fall,” you yelled, breathing pathetically heavy.

She turned around and merely smiled before turning her head forward again and continuing to prance uphill which exhausted you physically and mentally. Why couldn’t her hobby be tea parties or clothes, you thought hopelessly.

Today’s adventure was different from the usual expeditions that she had dragged you on as her royal attendant as you’ve been friends since childhood. She was always fond of horseback riding near waterfalls which would result in you falling off of your horse or taming wild animals such as boars to your dismay as you were terrified of anything that could impale you but for some odd reason she was fascinated by the South Forest which smelt awful after it had rained last night and was dark and damp.

Once the two of you reached the top of the hill that you were climbing, your knees collapsed on themselves. You felt the instant relief that came from sitting down but were disgusted by the feel of wet dirt and leaves sticking to your beige clothes. “Get up!” Heiran commanded as she grabbed you by your elbows, forcing you to your feet to walk deeper into the forest.

“This is dangerous!” You hissed into her ear, feeling cool air essentially exude from her body as she was nearly as tired as you were which was slightly terrifying. At this point, the both of you were not going to be back from the palace until dawn, gaining you an earful from your supervisors for sure. “Why don’t we have a nice spa day back at the palace?” You suggested full well knowing that she would shake you off and continue on her path.

And to your dismay, your predictions were correct. With her leading in the front, you trailed behind, watching her feet closely to make sure that her long dress did not fall under her feet or that she stepped into a patch of wet mud although she was ten times as athletic and agile than you were. “The only dangers I have are marrying that jerk Bonhwa,” she sighed in front of you while keeping her head high.

As she took light elegant steps on a path of dry soil, it seemed as though the dark and soggy flowers regained their vibrance and the grass fell adjacent to her feet. “This forest is really creepy,” you muttered out loud as you noticed the phenomenon hoping that it was your mind playing tricks on you. But witches, warlock, and magic were no stranger to the royal family.

“That’s what makes it fun,” she exclaimed, still not stopping or taking the time to look back at you. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks, causing you to bump your nose into the back of her head but fortunately for the both of you, her thick locks blocked the blow. “Look at that,” she whispered in awe at the sight in front of her.

You walked over to her side to see what she was so amazed by. Your eyes scanned what was in front of you; a large idesia tree with beautiful vibrant red berries, a plethora of small flowers and green plants surrounded the area and a relatively small waterfall in the background. Your view was undeniably beautiful in such a murky area but when you turned back to see Heiran’s eyes fixed on the bottom of the tree’s trunk you were confused as to what was so interesting about it. “A… tree?”

She shook her head softly, walking closer to the tree still transfixed on the trunk before squatting down and touching one of it’s exposed roots. To your surprise, a bright yellow beam of light filled your vision, blinding you. You quickly placed your hands on Heiran’s shoulder to pull her away as the light was scorching your corneas but she wouldn’t budge. After a tough fight you jumped on her in frustration, knocking the both of you two the ground. The light soon dimmed until it disappeared, “thank God,” you muttered.

But when your vision cleared, the tree trunk was now blocked by a figure of a man. Heiran nearly bolted up to inspect him but you held your arm out, knocking into her chest to block her in case he was dangerous and this was a stunt to lure her out. You crept up slowly to him as your vision began to clear with the princess watching intently behind you. You fell flat on your behind and scrambled back to the princess when you found a large wooden arrow protruding out of his chest. Although the wound looked old as the blood had been tried, the whole situation was uncomfortable and odd.

“We need to get going,” you stammered, struggling to stand up as you held both of her hands in yours.

She carefully placed your hands in your lap and before you could reach out for her she grabbed the middle of the arrow and tried to thrust it out with all of her might but all it did was awaken the seemingly dead stranger. His long black eyelashes fluttered, his chin which was leaning against his collar bones was now lolling from side to side as he was awakening from his slumber.

Your breath caught in your throat when his eyes shot open, his gaze looking directly into your eyes. The man was handsome and young, probably around your age or slightly older, maybe a thousand years for all you knew. He had dark hair and sharp chocolate brown eyes, a high nose bridge and a relatively small frame. He smiled softly until the princess’ voice pierced through the silent forest, echoing from tree to tree. “Who are you?”

“Ten,” he coughed, not using his voice for a long time. “Who are you?” He looked at the princess, a look of confusion and slight disgust in his eyes as he looked at her while she held his hand. When he tried to wrench his hand out of hers the arrow seemed to pierce him in the wrong way as he cried out in pain, only causing her to grab on even tighter.

“Heiran,” she said quickly.

You said your name and held up your hand briefly as a greeting, not needing to interfere as the magical arrow was already an efficient bodyguard for the princess if he ever did intend to hurt her or even move a centimeter.

“How did you get this way?” Heiran asked, brows furrowed in concern as she inspected him from top to bottom. He was physically fine except for the obvious foreign object in his chest but other than that he seemed healthy.

Ten placed the back of his head against the tree and chuckled in self pity, “beats me. Seems like I was asleep for a long time until you two showed up.”

You stepped out from behind Heiran so that you were facing Ten, “you remember your name though, can you remember anything else before this?” Heiran nodded enthusiastically at your question, also curious if not more curious than you to find out about him.

“My father and I had lived in the town nearby for most of my childhood until we decided to move to this forest, and as I was getting wood one day I met this girl and the rest of it was a blur but she did this to me.” For a grim memory he was answering you very sweetly, but with a slight venom and bittersweet gaze in his eyes.

“Quite the lady,” you murmured with your arms folded across your chest. But it seemed like the princess had heard you as she turned around and gave you a glare at the insensitive remark.

You were about to apologize about the stranger’s ordeal until he smiled at you and spoke, “she sure was.”

You cocked your head to the side, amused by how calm and nonchalant about his current situation. “So, Ten, how are you going to get out of this mess?”

He shrugged before glancing at Heiran then back to you with a smug grin on his face. “I was hoping you two would help?” Your face scrunched nearly instantly as the words left his mouth, Heiran reaching up and awaking him from his slumber, or spell, or curse was already impulsive of her and irresponsible of you on your part for not stopping her. Ten noticed the disdain that was evident in your facial expression and added another comment to try and convince you, “you know, since you disturbed my resting spot.”

You could not believe the audacity of this man, it seemed like he was trapped there for good reason. You reached for Heiran once more to pull her from her knees but she shook you off much more aggressively this time, shocking and slightly hurting you. “I’ll do anything.”

Her eyes were bulged wide open and from the second she had spotted the tree it was as if she was placed under a spell and when Ten had appeared it was locked on her to help him. You did not know why she was so transfixed on him but you didn’t trust him. “He could be dangerous,” you hissed into her ear not quietly enough apparently as Ten cleared his throat loudly.

“Even if he was, he’s trapped by this thing,” she said, gently poking the feathers at the end of the arrow which you could tell annoyed the eye roll that Ten had given her but couldn’t say anything to get on her good side since she was helping his case although she was already infatuated by him. “Whatever you do, I refuse to leave him here like this.”

Although she said that statement for you to leave, even if you wanted to which you really did; you couldn’t. She was your responsibility as it was your occupation and by the fact that you were incredibly concerned by her uncharacteristically rash judgement on a mere boy when she had much better suitors back at the castle. “Fine,” you grumbled, slightly taking the two in front of you aback as they stared blankly at you from below. “But what are you going to do to help?”

Her eyes started to shake in uncertainty and she whipped her head away from your gaze in the heat of her embarrassment. “I don’t know, but we’ll have to try,” she whispered with little confidence.

“I’ll only help you if you go back,” you said sternly this time knowing that you had hit her weak spot. “I promise we’ll be back.”

Heiran bit her lip in frustration and you could see the thoughts racing through her mind displayed by her eyes shifting back and forth rapidly by her subconscious. “Very well,” she forced out with an annoyed huff. Although she was visibly upset that she could not spend any time longer with Ten, she knew that talking with a stranger with amnesia until dawn was not going to remove the arrow out of his chest. She held Ten’s hand with her right and sandwiched it with her left, “I’ll see you soon.”

The princess stood up and brushed small crumbs of dry soil off of her chiffon dress and smoothed out any crevices from sitting on the unbalanced Earth. She turned on her heel, nodded at you and started to walk back towards the palace as the sun was starting to touch the top of the hill. As she passed you, you looked into the eyes of the stranger one last time before you had to catch up. Your eyebrows scrunched softly as you felt an odd sense of familiarity in his eyes. “I’ll look forward to what you come up with,” he said with a slight smirk. You didn’t know why his playful statement irked you, but it did. You nodded and turned to catch up with Heiran who was now a meter away from you.

You turned around and said coldly, “don’t expect too much.” To your surprise his smirk was unwavering and simply turned his head to the side in response, amused at your response. He annoyed you, but still you felt oddly acquainted with him, as if you knew him.

Back at the castle, after washing up after Heiran and putting on your nightgowns, you both sat on her feathery bed and listened to the symphony of whistling winds and orchestra from other members of the household listening to music over wine. You enjoyed the sound of the bristles stroking through her golden brown locks with every swipe of the comb. “Why do you want to help Ten so much?”

The small caramel hairs on the back of her neck stood up as soon as you uttered his name, taking you a bit aback. “I...I’m not sure... I just feel like I’ve known him before and that we might’ve had a connection.” She paused as she was getting lost in thought. Suddenly she jumped, making the bed ripple through and bounce with her. “Maybe in a past life!”

A laugh escaped from your throat at her idea, “what a romantic you are.” You shook your head with a smile on your face, in all years of searching for a husband to claim her status as a queen she decided to become infatuated with a man who is trapped by a magical arrow. “But you’re right, he seems familiar. Usually I don’t believe in magic or past lives either but the feeling is unsettling.”

She turned her head back to you to look into your eyes earnestly making you remove the comb from her hair and stare at her in surprise. “We can get him out...Right?”

You pat her head which made you feel like an older sister although she was older by 3 years, “whatever happens is for the best.” She smiled at you as you reassured her and turned around for you to continue combing her hair. Although you always consoled her during difficult times, you felt an ominous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. Trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your heart, you continued to brush.

You were aware that Princess Heiran was eccentric, imaginative, and too energetic and wild for her own good but you did not expect her to bring you to a shaman as a solution to Ten’s ordeal. The two of you were sitting on futons that faced the shaman sitting on the cold floor; one leg crossed while the other was propped up with his forearm resting on his knee. “Tell me, why is the beloved Princess and her servant here today?” His sharp upturned eyes were charming yet felt cold. The room was decorated with red and yellow lamps and decor; warm colours that did not make you feel any less cold from his gaze.

“There’s this man, and he’s stuck to this tree by an arrow!” Heiran explained with her animated personality, gesticulating with every word she said. “I was wondering if we could set him free, shaman?”

He laughed a deep bellied laugh as if the simple question was the grandest joke ever told to him. You furrowed your eyebrows at him while Heiran was shrinking back insecurely. “Feel free to call me Youngho and please excuse my laughter. It’s just funny when customers want refunds.”

Your head tilted to the side in confusion, “refunds? We haven’t been here before how-”

Youngho raised his hand at you and shook his head, “I can do it.” Heiran’s back straightened up and was reading to clap her hands out of joy until he continued to speak, “but everything comes with a price.”

“Of course!” Heiran gestured to you hurriedly to bring out the clutch that you carried her belongings in and your hands stumbled to remove the flap and pull out her wallet.

He shook his head, “not money dear, but a...” His long fingers tapped his chin as he looked up into a corner of the ceiling, “how do I put this...” After coming up with a fitting description he pointed his index finger into the air with an “aha!” He slapped his knee and leaned in closer to the two of you in a hushed voice, “a condition. No refunds, returns, that sort... Once I perform your wish you cannot take it back.”

Both you and Heiran looked at each other in confusion, that did not seem like a condition at all, if anything it seemed like he was granting Heiran’s wish for free. “Are you playing games with us? What are you to gain out of this if not money?”

Youngho shrugged, “I like seeing results of granting wishes.”

“Are you really going to just remove the arrow? What if you remove it and he attacks us?” You were skeptical and scared, you knew a powerful man was in front of you that could find loopholes to bring Heiran either her dreams or nightmares.

He sighed, exasperated, “seems like you learned to be cautious around me. At least you learned something,” he laughed again. “I promise on my own head that I will do only what she wishes for.” He laid a small dagger with red silk wrapped around the handle piece on top of the table separating you three, “you can use this to kill me if I go back on my word.” You eyed the dagger before grabbing it and placing it carefully on your belt. “Now, tell me your wish.”

Heiran took a deep breath and sat straight, composing herself with her eyes closed until her lungs were filled with air. Her eyes opened with only certainty and stared straight into Youngho’s eyes, “please free Ten!”

He smiled and nodded, “I will command your wish.” Heiran looked overjoyed but Youngho’s eyes turned towards you and said in a low voice so that only you could hear, “do not make the same mistake.” You were sick of Youngho’s ominous remarks and stood up with Heiran’s hand in yours as she said a couple of thanks on the way out.

Without verbalization of where the two of you were headed as both of you walked bristly through the bright blades of grass while trying to avoid a criss-cross of leafy vines overhead, you knew that you were headed to greet Ten who was hopefully free and recovering from his wound. As if you both were drawn to the location despite only visiting it once, you were able to spot Ten within a couple of minutes. He was on his knees with an agonizing look on his face, both hands grasping the arrow as beads of sweat were rolling down the sides of his temple.

Before you could rush over and help him Heiran was too fast for you as always and ripped the arrow out with ease. It seemed as though Youngho waited for your arrival until Ten was freed. Looking at Heiran’s arms wrapped around Ten as he gasped for breath made you look away; it felt as though you were intruding on their moment. You walked a couple steps away from them to avoid the overwhelming feeling of uncomfortableness and leaned your back against a tree. You felt the rough and uneven bark press gently into the back of your head and shoulders as you looked up at the beautiful green hue that the blue sky and sun created.

The tranquility of you admiring the forest was interrupted when you heard Heiran yelling after Ten, “wait! Your wound!” Ten was suddenly in front of you, taller and broader than you thought as he was now the only thing filling your vision. His eyes were smiling but still sad and melancholic. His right hand was placed on the back of your neck to pull you into his chest and the other pressing your back into him. “I missed you.” He pulled you back to inspect your face. The melancholy faded and a smile spread across his face from his eyes down to his lips. “I really missed you.”

As a reaction to his words, an uncontrollable flow of tears began to roll down your cheeks and continue to drip down to your chin and onto your collar bones. You quickly began to wipe your jaw and cheeks with the back of your hands as he stepped away from you and gave you space. You never cried in front of close friends and family, nevermind someone you’ve only met twice briefly, but sadness overwhelmed you before you knew it and tears started to pour. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you laughed awkwardly.

Heiran was now in front of you as well, having witnessed the scene and in shock. Ten turned to hug her awkwardly, not as intimate as he did with you. “I missed you too,” he said to her, with no warmth in his voice. “Truly, I cannot thank you enough for freeing me.” He patted Heiran’s hand out of gratitude but quickly dropped it and turned to you to check if you were okay.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be so emotional!” Heiran giggled as she wiped the residue of your tears from the corners of your eyes with the soft tips of her fingers. You shook your head and were about to muster an excuse of why your emotions betrayed your usually stoic exterior but the lump in your throat would only allow you to choke out sounds. “C’mon,” her arm snaked around your shoulders and the other around Ten, which caused him to twitch and shy away from her grasp slightly. Heiran, although slightly hurt by his noticeable distaste by her touch despite saving him, chose to ignore it. “Let’s let Ten catch up.”

You knew that she wanted to spend some time alone with Ten, now that she had a reason to talk to him alone considering she set him free and he was in a way indebted to her, whether he liked it or not. She proposed for you three to have a picnic; which was more like her way of arranging a date with him and you being there as a chaperone and waiter but you didn’t mind. You wanted to hear Ten’s story of his demise and the question of how you and Heiran stumbled upon him and revealed him from the tree was still fresh in your mind and unanswered.

Heiran had sent you back to the castle to grab supplies for the picnic once she found the perfect spot. The hill was perfectly round, almost like the base of an egg with a solid soil ground that wouldn’t dirty your garments and full patches of bright green grass. When you came back with a picnic basket with fruits and bread and a gingham blanket, you couldn’t help but notice the tension between Ten and Heiran. Without even hearing their conversation, you could infer that the former was being aloof and cold while the latter was asking all the questions to try and advance their relationship.

Ten’s head turned when he heard the sound of your feet crunch against the soft balls of soil that last week’s rain formed. His legs were crossed in the shape of an ‘x’ with his arms crossed over them in a direction that wasn’t directly facing Heiran while she was crossing her legs and leaning in whenever she asked Ten a question and anticipated his response. He looked up at you and slightly squinted at the sun’s bright light that wasn’t fully blocked by your body as you came near them. “You’re back,” he smiled.

“Indeed, couldn’t keep you love birds waiting,” you teased, which made Heiran blush coyly while Ten’s smile dropped. You couldn’t decipher why Ten didn’t like her. Maybe it was because she was enamoured by him at first sight and he didn’t like that or maybe because she was a bit too bubbly and energetic for him. But still, there seemed to be a reason deeper than that.

You unfolded the gingham picnic sheet and ruffled it out along the direction of the window so that the fabric could lay as flat and nicely as possible against the curved and uneven ground. Ten helped you lay the foods across the mat and you all took your seat once the layout was finished. “This looks great,” Ten said, lightly patting your arm. “Thanks for the trouble of bringing it.” His eyes seemed like they were dripping honey as he gazed sweetly into your eyes, or maybe it was the sun and hazy air that created that effect. Even still, the warmth from the midday atmosphere and him made you feel at home.

If you weren’t so focused on Ten, then you would have noticed Heiran clenching the fabric of her skirt. The scratchy detailing material was balled up in her hand, creating angry red patches on her palms as she saw the boy she was infatuated with gazing lovingly at her childhood friend when she couldn’t even keep a conversation with him. I gave you freedom, she thought angrily, and this is how you repay me.

She couldn’t give that impression however, so she suppressed the frustration that was about to surface in the form of tears and straightened her back before asking another question. “So, do you remember now?”

Ten shifted his gaze off of you and onto her lazily, “hmm?”

“Do you remember? Now that you’re free?” Heiran repeated, a little too much forced sweetness in her voice. She was internally grimacing at how shamelessly she was acting for a boy who was obviously more interested in you than her. Her feelings however were far too strong for her to compose herself and accept the fact that he didn’t want her.

The corners of Ten’s lips curled into a sinister smile and hair fell over his eyes, casting a shadow over his already dark expression. “Should I tell you?” You noticed the tone in his voice shift from sweet to ominous but Heiran nodded excitedly, mistaking his smirk for a smile that she wasn’t able to get from him. “There was this girl, god she was such a bother to me, but she found me when I was chopping wood in a new town that I moved to. I had a home in the forest with my father, so I don’t know how she found me, but that’s besides the point-she found me.”

Both yours and Heiran’s eyes were fixated on him, getting more and more drawn into his story as he continued. “She couldn’t find a suitor until she found me, she said. But I fell in love with her friend, how pretty her friend was. Anyways, she wasn’t happy. So…” He paused and imitated the action of drawing back a bow, with one eye closed to focus on a target. Ten thumb and index finger released and his arms dropped, “and I was stuck to the tree.”

You chuckled, surprising both Ten and Heiran at how you managed to find a tragic story laughable. “You’ve oversimplified things haven’t you?” You asked, staring directly at Ten. He cocked his head to the side and shrugged his shoulder lightly, as if asking ‘how so?’ “How were we the ones to find you then? How did you not die?”

Ten unfolded his legs and let them sit freely as his hands were laid on the bare grass so that he could support his torso and move his head back so that his face was under the sun’s warmth. His eyes were closed and the muscles on his face relaxed. He was now speaking nonchalantly and an air of non-importance despite nearly getting killed, “who knows? Just don’t make the wrong choice again, Heiran-ah.”

She jumped in her seat, confused at what he was talking about yet feeling insecure at his ambiguous advice. “What wrong choice?”

He didn’t open his eyes or even move an inch, “I wish you never find out.”

Heiran went home after the sun set and you gathered the leftover food and picnic cloth. After sending the basket to the kitchen and getting ready for bed, Heiran decided to spend the night alone although you usually had conversations while you brushed her hair to aid her to sleep. “Today was a lot,” she smiled weakly. You were expecting her to complain or rant about Ten to you but she looked drained much to your surprise.

“Okay, goodnight,” you said as she closed her bedroom door and replied with a soft and almost inaudible ‘goodnight’ back to you. As you were walking back to your room, you saw Ten on the balcony. His left leg and back was against the large white ribbed pillar with his arms folded across his chest and his gaze fixed on the bright moon against the ocean blue sky. When you stopped in your tracks, he turned his head around. An “oh” escaped your lips as his intense eyes were now on you. “Hi.”

He chuckled and walked over to you, “hi.” His fingers, cold from the night breeze, caused waves of shivers to dance across your back when he tucked a strand of stray hair behind you back. The soft blue moon light illuminated his face and you couldn’t help but bring a hand up to cup the side of his face.

“Why do you look at me like you know me?”

His hand overlapped yours and he smiled, but this time it was sadly. “Would you believe me if I said I did know you?”

You tilted your head to the side, “maybe. I feel like I do know you, from before, but that’s absurd.” You were a skeptic. Ghosts, angels, demons, every creature or deity was merely a matter of fictional stories for you but anything was possible in your mind now seeing that Ten survived years stuck to a tree by an arrow and magically appeared by Heiran touching an exposed root.

“Then you’d be right,” he smiled. You two stood in each other's arms, comfortable with each other’s presence although being strangers. “Can I kiss you?” He asked abruptly. You were taken aback but you wanted it too. Without a word, you nodded and closed your eyes in anticipation for his lips. You heard a soft chuckle from him before his soft plump lips connected with yours. Both his hands cupped your face while yours grasped the sides of his unbuttoned silk shirt to get closer to him.

He pulled away and kissed your temple before looking at you again. “I’m sad our time together has always been short.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about. “Tomorrow, go back to Youngho and make things right.”

You were about to ask him what he was talking about but his hands fell from you and he turned swiftly on his heels to walk to the guest bedroom that Heiran arranged for him. Quick on your feet, you jogged softly over to him and grabbed the hem of his shirt to stop him but he continued to walk without looking back at you. “Please make things right,” he whispered. “For both of us.”

The murky and humid air made your lungs burn as you gasped for air while running through the forest to Youngho’s temple. You were ducking overhanging branches and vines while simultaneously trying not the slip on the uneven rocks which were slippery from dew and moss. You remembered Ten’s warning or piece of advice from last night and used it as soon as you were woken up harshly in the morning. “Princess Heiran is missing! The princess is missing!”

Knights were roaming around the perimeter of the castle, the seamstresses and cooks were searching every household in the town, and the royals were preparing war plans for the worst case scenarios like kidnapping. But you knew the reason. She must’ve seen you and Ten last night. At that moment, you were too blinded by Ten’s affections that you didn’t know that Heiran’s window was placed directly in front of the balcony where she could oversee what happened on the lower floors. It wasn’t a kidnapping, she must’ve ran away.

Without time for politeness, you ran through the temple, creating a sharp ring of dozens of bells that welcomed every visitor on arrival. You watched Youngho’s shoulders jump at the harsh and unpleasant noise before he turned around to see who the rude intruder was. Instead of a face of disdain, his face lit up when he saw that it was you. “Ah, the last one to figure out.” Again with his ambiguous and ominous sayings. “Come have a seat.”

You marched over to where he was and sat down in front of him, the same wooden table separating the two of you as your knee dug into the futon that was laid out for guests. “Where is Heiran?”

“Drink the tea,” Youngho ordered. His index finger pointed to a cup of green tea, with leaves floating on the surface. You could still see steam rising from the cup. It was as if he was expecting you to barge in at any moment.

“Why would I? Tell me where she is!” You were urgent. Sure Heiran was demanding and a handful most of the time, but she was still your childhood friend that you never spent a day apart from, nevermind an hour or two. You were not about to let a shaman or a boy get in the way of your friendship and having her go missing. A thought ran across your mind. “Did you make her disappear after you did her a favor? Was that her payment?” You were shouting with tears nearly overflowing from your eyes.

Youngho was calm despite your emotional outburst. He pointed at the cup again, “your answer is in the cup. Drink it.”

With no other option that you could think of, you grabbed the cup and downed it until there wasn’t a drop left. Your head ached as you slammed the cup down on the table, losing control of your bodily functions.

Memories were rushing back to you.

Heiran first met Ten as he was chopping wood for his father. They first moved to the forest after getting sick of travelling to and from the markets for garments and furnishments. The mountains were calm and tranquil, but it was much easier for trade and purchase when the forest was located at the edge of the marketplace.

She was behind a tree, gazing at the sweat trickling down his biceps, forehead, and neck. He was handsome. Although she was a beauty herself and had many suitors asking for her hand in marriage, she turned them all down because she didn’t feel a connection. Until she found him.

You saw yourself in the flashback. “Hey!” You slapped her on the back of her shoulder, not aware that she was peeping at the handsome boy. “What are you looking at?”

She instantly shushed you with her index finger in front of her pursed lips and you retracted to the back of the tree and took a position next to her. She pointed to the boy who was too distracted by the heat and his burning muscles to notice the girls. “Isn’t he good looking?” She asked with excitement in her whisper.

You scoffed, “I’ve seen better.” But in actuality you haven’t. You were in awe at his sharp cat-like eyes, sharp and high nose bridge, and slender figure that was exposed slightly by his loose-fitting tank top.

Before you knew it, Heiran fell from under you and walked over to the woodchopping boy with confidence. As you were leaning on her, you nearly fell face first into the hard ground until you landed on your knees and collected yourself. “I’m Heiran, and you are?” She asked confidently with her hand outstretched in front of her for him to shake. He didn’t like how direct she was, especially when he was busy with a task.

Although a little late, as you were brushing off the dust from your shorts, you walked over and introduced yourself as well. Once he laid eyes on you, he didn’t care about his task anymore. Your hand wasn’t out for him to shake but he walked past Heiran and shook your hand. “Ten, pleased to meet you.”

The next images shifted. You three were inseparable. The day you met was by chance as you two never went out into the forest as the village elders always warned against going without protection in case of foreign knights or wild animals but that day you went to get clean water. All of you were in the same economic and social standing, but Heiran was regarded higher than you two as her father held a low position in the castle while you and Ten came from simple trade families.

You watched as there were memories of you three going to the river and splashing water at each other to cool off, eating fruits that you stole from a nearby fair and running off and hiding in a river bank when the owners ran to see why their guard dogs were barking, and sleeping under the stars after night gazing for hours.

Although Heiran’s feelings for Ten were unrequited, it was never noticeable as you all spent time together as friends. In the night you would sneak off with Ten and steal kisses while promising that one day, he would ask your father for your hand in marriage once Heiran found someone because you couldn’t let her be the only one not wedded.

But that never happened because Heiran’s father was promoted and it was time for her to get married. They were considered wealthy now and her family moved into the castle, meaning that your trio was now a duo. You were overwhelmed with melancholy that your best friend for life was gone but Ten had to hide his feelings of excitement of having you all to himself now.

Before Ten could give you a ring that he forged for months, Heiran came back to the forest after months of not contacting either of you with her father on a horse in tow. “He’s the one I want to marry,” she said while pointing at him. She knew you and Ten had a special relationship that she could never have with him, but she never liked someone as much as she did with Ten. So she went to his house when she knew you weren’t going to be there to see your disappointment and devastation.

Ten knew he couldn’t refuse. If he did, that could mean he would end up poorer than he already was with how brutal royals and officials were when they didn’t get their way. So once he pretended to arrange a time of meeting with Heiran and her family, he ran to you and told you that he would run away with your families and live in another town together. You agreed and prepared for your departure but you both didn’t realize that Heiran was smarter than you thought. She had been following Ten ever since he left and knew of your plan.

So she went to Youngho and asked for an arrow. Although her love for Ten made her fall into a rage, she did not believe in death as a solution. “Make them fall into a deep sleep and find another lover,” she said to him as he was preparing the weapon. She loved you like a sister and wanted to see you happy, just not with the man she was also in love with.

She asked to meet you alone. You came alone because you thought she would never harm you. When you were in front of her and she was sure that you were alone, she pulled the arrow back on the band of the bow and aimed it right at your chest. You stood frozen and felt the blood in your body run cold. “Why?”

Ten was also smarter than what Heiran thought. When you avoided his line of questioning when you said you needed to go to the town alone, he knew you were lying and followed you stealthily, even fooling Heiran who was extra careful. “I want all of us to live happily,” she said with tears in her eyes as she let her fingers relax, sending the arrow straight towards you. Heiran was wrong, if her plan worked the only one that would be happy was her.

Before you could jump out of the way or get hit, you saw Ten’s body fly in front of you and then fly back at the strong impact of the magical arrow. “Ten!” His body was lifeless, but still breathing with a regular heartbeat. Out of shame, all Heiran could do was run away from her fatal mistake of forever losing her best friend and lover.

You watched as both you and Heiran grow old. You lived a quiet life in the town as a doctor while Heiran took over her father’s duties with regret every single day. And when both of you were reborn, you had the unlucky fate of being born as her servant and her as a princess. It was even more tragic that you both had to meet Ten again.

When you recoiled back from the memories you looked at Youngho, “is that what you meant when you said that we came back for refunds?” Anger was coursing through your veins; at Heiran, at Youngho, at cruel fate.

Youngho simply nodded and stared at you intensely, curious at what you were about to do. “Seems like Heiran is already on the course of making the same mistake,” he sighed. “Considering she came to me again.”

You didn’t know what to do. Everyone had gotten their memories from their past life back and she came back to Youngho again to presumably get Ten back. You weren’t sure if you were angry at her or disappointed but all you knew was that you had to make it right. When you stood up to leave, you knew exactly where you were headed and that Heiran and Ten would be there.

When you were almost out the door, you heard Youngho’s voice call out. “I want a happy ending for you all. I really do.” You nodded and continued to walk towards the forest where everything ended and thought, I hope so too.

On arrival at the tree Ten was, Heiran appeared from behind a tree with a bow and arrow in her hands. Her hair was wild, her eyes ever more crazed and sleep deprived, and the skin on her face covered in shallow red scratches which were most-likely self-inflicted. “You never learn do you?” You asked, referring the Youngho’s favor that she was grasping in her hands. “Do I not deserve to be happy in both of my lives?”

She was shaking, either from lack of sleep or from a flurry of unchecked emotions from regaining her memories. “Why is it always you!” She screamed. “I won’t make the same mistake this time!” She raised the arrow at you but this time you wouldn’t dodge, you’d make sure that you would get hit so maybe in your next life you wouldn’t meet Heiran and only Ten.

But your eyes widened as she released the arrow, “this one is to kill you.”

However many times she tried her luck, fate can never be changed.

The arrow sent Ten flying back towards a tree, but this time the arrow was soaked with red. He was dying. Blood was flowing from the wound at an alarming rate and no matter how hard you pressed on his chest, the pressure wasn’t helping. “Ten!” You screamed at the top of your lungs and you didn’t have to turn around to know that Heiran escaped.

He was going to die now, and you were to live another life without him. You pressed your lips on his as you knew it was going to be your last in years. He smiled and stroked your hair again, “one day we’ll get our happy ending.”

You suddenly remembered what he said to you on the balcony, “I’m sad our time together has always been short.” He knew from the beginning that he was going to leave you again, yet he struggled through it all alone. As his last breath left his lungs, rain started to pour.

“Hey, did you hear?” Seulgi whispered as she sat down on the white office chair next to you as you were waiting for the announcement for the new CEO of the company that you were working at. “President Heiran was arrested.”

Your eyes widened, “what did she do?”

Seulgi shrugged and played with a pen in between her fingers, “I don’t know but she always seemed shady to me.” Other employees began to trickle in and take their seats as the minutes were approaching the next hour when the person to take Heiran’s place was to make their appearance.

“That’s why she left so suddenly,” you murmured. Before you could discuss and speculate the situation more, the lights in the conference room dimmed and a single light turned on for the front of the room from where the new president entered.

His dyed grey-blue hair was slicked back with gel and you could smell the luxurious cologne that he was wearing when he made his way over to the center of the room. His hands adjusted his well-fitted navy blue suit before he bowed in front of the employees and introduced himself. “My name is Ten Chittaphon, I will be looking after the company on this day forward. I am looking forward to working with you all.”

When the brief introductory conference was over, Seulgi was giggling like a schoolgirl next to you as you were walking back to your respective cubicle. “He’s so hot,” she laughed. You elbowed her side jokingly for talking about your new boss that way despite having the same thoughts the entire meeting.

“Excuse me,” you heard a light voice interrupt your appreciation over Ten’s looks until you found the voice that called you belonged to him. “Can I speak to you for a second?” He looked towards you and you nodded while Seulgi gave you a thumbs up and retreated to her desk.

You had the worst thought in your mind despite Seulgi teasing you, were you in trouble already? “How about a drink tonight?” He said after shutting the door of the break room. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“Isn’t that a little inappropriate?” You asked, amused yet intrigued by him.

He stepped towards you and you stood your ground confidently. Ten chuckled at how you didn’t step back. “Not if I’m just getting to know one of my employees.”

“Do you get to know all of your employees then?” A grin spread across your face as you teased him.

“No,” he looked down at you and returned the flirty smile. “So what do you say?” Once he saw you nod slightly, he turned on his heels and walked out of the room before popping in to say one last thing. “Stay at the office until 7, I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

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krystalficloverdh · 4 years

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My hero - Eat what?!

Third chapter.

Hormones in the air.

“Uuuurgh! This is harder than I thought!” Izuku shouts as she moves a spare sword from All Might feeling the strains in her body. She’s been training with All Might for five months and she just turned sixteen, she learned hand to hand combat and how to wield a sword properly, it has been quiet in the area with no attacks so she could concentrate more in her training.

“That’s the spirit young Midoriya!” An excited All Might shouts from behind.”You have a good control over your magic, our powers work 50% mind 50% body.” He puts his hands on his hips.“The power of this sword, is the fullest physical ability of many people gathered into one and obviously you’ve been training for a while if not the limbs will come off and the body will explode.”

“MY LIMBS WILL WHAT?!”

“YES!”

“Um back with my magic, I can only levitate things and myself though.” She said as she wiped her sweat from her forehead.

All Might puts his hand in his chin. “From what I saw back in the Southern Tribe that’s not the case, your magic is called telekinesis, it’s really rare these days and it can only be inherited, you have the ability to manipulate the objects around you and even what are not visible to the naked eye!”

“If what you’re saying it’s true then I am able to thrust strong waves of energy like I did with the slime monster and maybe I can even create protective barriers with the same energy if train it well.” Izuku mutters.

“You’re muttering again.”

“Sorry!”

“WORRY NOT! It seems that I gave you a good idea.”

“Mmm!” She beams happily.

“Young Midoriya, I believe it’s time for you to inherit the legendary sword One For All.” All Might looked at her seriously. “It is a special weapon that adapts to any type of magic and it can also grant its power for ones who can’t develop their own magic.”

“You don’t…?” She asked confused and he gives a crooked smile.

“This sword cultivates the power and passes it on to another person, who also cultivates it and passes it on.” All Might raises the legendary sword and starts to glow.“It is the crystallization of magic that spins together the voices of those who need help.”

“Wow!” She was so happy, it made his heart warm.

“This is the power that you earned because of your own effort...Now.” He said as he takes a strand of his hair. “Eat this.”

“...Eat this? Eat what?”

“Come on that’s how in works, you must consume some part of my dna and this is the best way.”

“Ew…It’s too different from what I imagined!”

“I’m kinda offended right now…” He places a hand on his heart dramatically.“Unless you wanna drink some of my blood?”

“I’ll take it! I’ll take the hair!... I’ll eat it...Somehow.” She swallows the hair with a frown.

“Young Midoriya, How about going to UA? It’s a perfect place for people aspiring to be heroes!”

She looked up at All Might in surprise.”I’ll have to tell my mother about this.”

“Indeed.” All Might grinned wide.”Besides, I’ll be teaching young heroes there.”

“You will?!”

“YES!” He gave her a thumbs up. “There has been a lot of attacks lately and I was on my way there when I felt the sword pulling me to you.”

“Now that I think about it, It was very strange like those men above in the mountains at the tribe like they were trying to lure you out.”

“They gave a pretty good fight! The tribes of the Badlands are strong warriors!”

“They are! It’s amazing how they are able to fight alongside with dragons.” Izuku smiled sweetly “Can I tell some friends if they want to come?”

“Of course the merrier the better! Oh and let’s talk to your mother.”

“Right!”

“If I went to UA, would you come with me?” Izuku asked as she sparred with Katsuki.

So many things changed in those five months, they would meet up in the forest or in his tribe, she always felt her heart skip a beat in anticipation for their meetings, she would spar with him or Katsuki would take her for a ride. Since she came to this world she never thought about dating, sometimes she would find herself wanting his attention or just be close to him all the time and it’s driving her mad. She had to admit that Katsuki is a very attractive man, putting aside his explosive personality and his yelling all the time, he was a good person, at least in his own way. She can’t help but feel confused about what is happening between them, they became very good friends and they were comfortable with each other.

Katsuki’s eyes turned serious and Izuku squeaked as a pair of strong arms pushed her backwards, rolling in the ground, she was laying on her back with him straddling her hips, holding her arms above her head and looking down on her.

“Not that I’m forcing you, I thought that it could be a great opportunity to become heroes, train to get better, I met All Might a few months ago and he told me about it…” Her voice got quieter as she continued to ramble.

“I would.” He made sure that his voice was loud and clear. “We promised each other didn’t we?”

She lifted her hips and pushed him forward, she used her strong legs and rolled them over, grinning as he grunted in surprise. She pinned him on the ground and her thighs tightened around his hips and he felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt her thighs against him.“Then, I’ll tell All Might that you said yes, oooh let’s tell Kirishima-san and Mina-chan too!” She beams happily and loosened her grip on his hands.

The mention of the legendary hero made him snap out of his trance, he grabbed her collar and pulled her until they were nose to nose.“Wait the fuck up! All Might told you? When did you met?!” He told her fiercely with a look that made her heart and stomach jump in symphony.

Calm the hell down hormones of hers.

Bad Izuku.

She nervously looked away and met his eyes again. “Yeah, after the attack of the slime monster I met him in the forest the next day and he told me about the guild.”

“So he’ll be there…” He muttered and nodded to himself. “I’ll be the number one and even beat All Might or everyone who steps in my way!” He looked at her seriously and she nodded still mesmerized.

“You and fighting half of the world.”

“JUST SO YOU KNOW, DAMN DEKU! THAT SLIME SHIT DOESN’T COUNT! YOU THINK I OWE YOU?! I NEVER ASKED FOR YOUR HELP! YOU COULD’VE BEEN SERIOUSLY INJURED!” His face was red from embarrassment.

“Sure you were Kacchan.” She purred as she gave him a cocky smirk.

“Are you sassing me?” He asked huskily as tacked her on the ground once again. Izuku blinked several times, she tried pulling her hands out of his grasp but to no vail and her lips opened slightly. “Yield.” He smirked, flashing his teeth.

“N-Never.” She breathes and sighed uneasily.

“What’re bitching about?”

“The only thing that bothers me is that I don’t want to leave my mother alone…” She said and looks away as she clenches her fists. “That person might come back and he is not a good person.” Izuku spat venom in her voice as she mentioned her father, she had a wild guess that the man she saw that day was her father, she didn’t have any paintings of him so she wasn’t sure.

A sharp hiss left his lips as he suddenly pulled away from her and they quickly got on their feet. Katsuki knew who she meant, his mother told him that Izuku’s father disappeared when she turned six and at that time Mitsuki went to Inko’s shop for some plants, that’s how they met and became great friends. He reached out to give her a flick on her forehead at the look on her face. “Your mother can stay with my old hag.” He said with a scowl. “She loves your mom… She wouldn’t let that bastard get near her, so stop making that face.”

“Ouch!” She said and punched his chest in goodwill. She rubbed her forehead where he flicked and giggled.

“That’s better.” He smirked.

“If you two have stopped flirting, shall we hear about this UA guild?” Remarked Kirishima with a raised eyebrow.

“We’re not flirting!” Izuku and Katsuki shouted in unison. Kirishima shrugged and Mina laughs.

Izuku sighed and walked towards Kirishima. “You see…”

“HERE WE ARE!” All Might shouts loudly as the group of teens approached the guild, Izuku looks up at the building, her expression of pure excitement. “COME! YOUNG HEROES, UA GUILD AWAITS!” The hero lets out a booming laugh and stepped to open the front gates. “I AM...COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A HERO!”

The UA guild is a big building in the middle of a city two days away from her village, the tribes of the Badlands are known for their dragons so they took the dragons to get there faster, courtesy of crown prince Katsuki Bakugou.

“AWESOME LOOK AT ALL THOSE PEOPLE USING THEIR MAGIC!” Izuku beams happily swinging side to side, feeling the legendary sword warm in her back next to a grumpy Katsuki and she took a deliberately breath as he suddenly held her hand.

“Let’s go Deku.”

A dark haired woman with a mask and a provocative way of dressing stood in the entrance. “Welcome, young heroes! My name is Midnight.” She smiled at the teens. “Please fill your basic information over there and I’ll give you your keys to your dorms.” The teens part to go to fill their information near a desk lady at the side of the building. “Girls dorms are this way and boys dorms are that way!”

“This is where we part! I must go to meet the master of the guild.” All Might collided his fist into his palm, with quick glance that no one was watching he bends down to ruffle Izuku’s hair and gives her a thumbs up. “See you in class!” He whispered and saluted to Izuku.

“Yes!” She whispered back.

Izuku couldn’t believe that she was at the UA guild, it was funny how the events have changed in five months. She was looking at her surroundings, there was a man with a dog’s head, a girl who created things that came out of her chest, a giant woman, a boy with a tail and many more different powers. She wondered if she was going to share classes with them when she heard a scream of a brown haired girl riding a staff falling from the sky.

“WATCH OUT!”

Without giving a second thought, Izuku quickly flexed her legs and leaped forward, green lightning sparked her body and carried the girl bridal style. They landed softly on the ground and Izuku lets down the girl. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” The girl asked confused.

“Are you okay?”

The girl was about to answer when a knight with glasses came running in their direction holding the staff she was riding moments ago.

“Ochako, that was dangerous! Thank goodness you are okay!” The knight shakes the girl by the shoulders and the girl shoves off the boy to face Izuku.

“That was so cool, like a prince! Thank you for saving me! My name is Ochako Uraraka!”

“Izuku Midoriya” Izuku nodded with a gentle smile. “Nice to meet you!”

“My name is Tenya Iida!” He said while moving his arms all over the place and Izuku laughs at the strage gesture before glancing over at Katsuki who was walking towards her with a deadly expression leaving Kirishima and Mina following from behind.

“Be careful Bakubro or some girl might steal your girl!” Snickered Kirishima behind Katsuki and Mina gives him a high five.

“Nice!”

“Out of the way extras!” Katsuki shoves Iida and Ochako to the side. He looked down at Izuku and took her hand to guide her towards their dorms.

“Don’t call people extras just because you don’t know them!” Iida yells at Katsuki in the distance.

“See you in class and sorry!” Izuku waved a hand turning around to her new friends hoping to see them again tomorrow.

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#katsudeku #bakudeku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #fem deku #dadmight #mha #reincarnatedsoul #medieval au

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these-are-the-first-steps · 4 years

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Hey, come read my shit:

STAR WARS (it’s all reylo)

PREY - “Kylo Ren, recovering, retrained, and bolstered by the Dark Side thanks to Snoke, is still obsessed with his failures and the scavenger that got away. Carving a furious path through the First Order fleet and throwing everything to hell, he hones in almost desperately on her location as she runs from his whispers until there is nothing left but them.” Featuring such stellar tags as “she’s running but he’s coming for her and lets her know it”

Exigence in Force Majuere - “This war has raged for ages and most of the leaders at its helm are long gone. It's left to Kylo Ren, and Rey, his constant opposing force, whose minds have seeped so far into each other as to make planning in secret impossible, to come to some accord or else watch the galaxy burn in their futile efforts at mutual destruction.”*

*This is/was a non-linear story added to via submitted prompts on tumblr and written to a loose storyline already in my head.

Neon Lights - [ONESHOT] Kylo Ren is the highest paid movie star in the world. He's also the number one drug user, number one patron of any whore pretty enough to catch his attention. But her voice never leaves his head. It won't leave him alone. And all he can do is replay their parting over and over and over again.... [[This story has TWO ENDINGS- happy and sad! Because I couldn't make up my mind and the angst was so good. But y'all-- the sad ending is SAD. Read the TAGS. And a reminder that drama is drama and not real life.]]

Solace for the Damned - “Christmas Eve, and a lone priest of a tiny, isolated parish works feverishly in the snow until an old friend drops by. She misses him- what will it take to lure him away? When will he stop hiding behind the cloth?”*

*a story I was real excited for just as a lot of personal drama started for me which botched everything. Sorry ‘bout that.

How Silent Are Your Saints? - [ONESHOT] “Rey's run off, and Kylo's in hot pursuit. When he finally finds her, she's stark naked planted in a tiny metal tub trying to scrub herself clean of the grit of the planet she hates so much. So why did she come back?? Why won't she just come home with him??

Very angry, rough smutty times. Rey is angry, Kylo's angry, and she makes it worse every time that pretty mouth says the 'B' name he hates so much...

This story was inspired by a piece of art done by Hotside on tumblr depicting Rey essentially sponge-bathing in a small, shallow tin back on Jakku with the shadow of Kylo Ren looming out of frame. Link inside!!”

There’s Only So Many Things You Can Steal From A Courtesan - [ONESHOT] ...and bitchin’ moves to catch the ladies ain’t one of them. Long overdue Matt trash, but it’s darker and not your typical fare- for cheesytriangle/picarito on tumblr.

A Lady Should Never Promenade A Ballroom Alone - [ONESHOT] “Rey is undercover at a ball. So is Kylo Ren. Who thought putting Rey in that dress was a good idea? Borderline drama, fluff, crack without actually totally falling into any of those categories, with a generous helping of SMUT. NOT an AU. Written for a "oh hey, what are you doing here?" prompt request.” *

*hilariously this is the most popular oneshot I’ve ever written.

Too Late - [ONESHOT] “He has to watch as she leaves, watch as she goes into the arms of someone else. But it began before he ever arrived. He's simply too late.” —hi. This is not a happy story. But it’s short.

Can’t Keep Them Down - “I made a post last week saying I'd only reply to ants with explicit porn or cute fluffy animals. While I think the fandom may have taken more advantage of that than actual ants, it's still been a lot of fun. This is a collection of the short drabbles I wrote up- chapters will be added as they happen on tumblr (and maybe I’ll occasionally post something here that I don’t post there so subscribing might be a good idea- who knows!). There is no sequence unless specified. Every single chapter is rather explicit porn. ENJOY, SINNERS.”

Let It In - [ONESHOT] Kylo's control over himself is wearing thin- not like it was gridiron to begin with. He lapses more and more into daydreams, fantasies, of her. Of them. He sees her everywhere. He hates himself for it. But the more they consume him, the more he can't help but indulge, and as he abandons his duties once more to sequester himself in an effort to not rip The Finalizer into two, he finds, to his anguish, that maybe his traitorous thoughts aren't just his alone... [[Art inspired, ILLUSTRATED fic attached to a work produced by Arriku/Spacefugue/solarfugue/cherryfury on tumblr]]”*

*I lose points for this fic because I was told later that they were sitting down in the art so I got it wrong. Sorry, arriku- I still feel bad. :/

The Choice - [ONESHOT] “At the end of the world, he made his offer. The planet cracked like an egg beneath their feet, ready to give birth to a brand new star, and still he couldn't bring himself to say it- couldn't bring himself to say he needed her. Instead it came out as "You need a teacher!!" Anything- *anything*- to keep her close to him. But would she understand? Choices, choices...”

Control - “They pound at her head, the Darkness, her demons, she lashes out, but no one can understand. They can't see what she sees, feel what she feels, they're closing in, and she can't escape, but when she finally flees to the outside..... [[This is a *former* one-shot based on a song that I swear will be Rey's theme for episode 8. PREPARE FOR THE ANGST INSANITY TRAIN!!]]”*

*officially unfinished. Ah well. Dunno if anyone really missws it anyway....

All Good Things - [ONESHOT] “Trapped in a cave after a First Order attack causes a massive collapse, Rey is left with a mangled leg with no rescue for days. Just as she starts to fret that no one will ever come, a familiar voice brushes against her mind and offers her aid. But at what price? As her injuries worsen, she may not have much of a choice.” —hi. This is the most lighthearted reylo fic I’ve probably ever written.

——————

FARSCAPE

Everything - [ONESHOT] “Moments after the skreeth attack in 'Terra Firma', in the dizzying whirl of sirens and emergency workers and special agents rushing into the ruin of his father's home, John is brought bad news from D'Argo and Chiana and, faced with the reality that his best friend since childhood is dead, finally must tell his family everything.”

——————

XENA

Mandatory Refusal - [ONESHOT] “Countless times he'd watched her calmly walk into the arms of Death. And countless times he'd watched her thwart it all the same. She always came back- she always found a way. Even when she chose to take her own life, he'd respected her, respected her decision enough, to let her go through with it. But not this time- not after everything they'd been through since then. She wasn't getting a choice this time.

Takes place during Xena's final battle in AFIN:2. Ares wasn't so conspicuously absent as he seemed...”

You Can’t Run Away - [ONESHOT] “What happened after Xena left Hercules in "Unchained Heart"? What led her to bury her armor in the dirt? As soon as she turned for good, Ares hounded both Xena and Hercules by raising Darphus from the dead and filling the killer's mind with no thought other than to feed them both to Graegus- no one gets to simply walk away. Set in the space between UH and Sins of the Past.”

——————

METALOCALYPSE

....yea I wrote a metalocalypse fic, you wanna fight about it? comedy is hard and it was a fun challenge, especially that flavor of comedy.

Succession - [ONESHOT] “Story takes place at the tail end of 'The Doomstar Requiem'. Charles takes his place as the High Holy Priest of the Church of the Black Klok and the band is left without a manager. In an attempt to find a new one, they hold 'manager auditions', but old grudges interfere and one of the band members takes a turn for the worse. cannon ONE SHOT!”

#star wars #reylo #reylo fanfiction #xena #x:wp #xena/ares #farscape #metalocalypse #dethklok #my fanfics

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ivedonestranger · 5 years

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Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Raven Characters: Raven (DCU), Robin (DCU), Victor Stone, Garfield Logan, Koriand'r (DCU) Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Magic, robrae - Freeform, Angst, Humor Series: Part 2 of Candy Series Summary:

Who would have thought a choice could lead to so much pain?

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

Even after a week of healing and constant ministrations from her boyfriend, Rachel's face still showed a bit of the purple from the assault at the music hall. The swelling had shrunk to the point that it was only noticeable if you had stopped to study her face.

Rachel had spent that week, when she was able to move, decorating the dance studio for Halloween as Chet had always threw a big party for the students and opened the doors for the trick or treaters who would be coming down the street.

Ever since the phone call to the Justice League, the young woman tried to put the thoughts of Doctor Light out of her mind. The life that she knew him in was dead and gone. She had to focus on her new life with Chet and being normal. Though it still bothered her.

"Miss Adams!"

Rachel turned to see a young teenage girl running in her direction. Though only fifteen, Daphne Saunders was tall and could have quickly passed as seventeen or eighteen. She wore a big grin that was never far from her face, and she promptly spun in place, showing Rachel her clothes. She was wearing a blue shirt and skirt while holding two wooden rods under her arms.

"Whatcha think of my costume?"

"Who are you supposed to be?" Rachel laughed, getting off the step ladder and leaving the last part of the word 'Halloween' dangling in front of the door.

"I'm you! When you kicked those guy's ass! You know you're famous!"

Unfortunately, one of the kids had uploaded the video of her fight to a video sharing platform. Chet told her she had gone viral, of course, after he got over the shock of seeing the video.

"I didn't know you could fight like that!" he had exclaimed after admonishing himself for not being there.

Even Captain Eagle, the Traverse City superhero stopped by, and she insisted that she wanted no more publicity. The kind man had promised to keep everything to a minimum. He did to her relief.

"I did what I had to do, Daphne."

"Can you teach me to fight like that?"

She did not have a chance to answer as the first bunch of kids burst through the door, laughing and screaming at the decorations and candy. There were so many colorful costumes of so many designs. Rachel felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulder, and she turned to see Chet dressed up in a red denim shirt, overalls, and a fake axe on his shoulder.

"When are you going to get your costume on?" he asked.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and looked him over.

"What are you supposed to be?"

"Paul Bunyan."

"I don't think Paul Bunyan is supposed to be so scrawny." Rachel cracked.

He laughed and leaned in for a kiss. She only had a moment before a child groaned, and she quickly broke away.

"It's Halloween. No kissing, Miss Adams," the nine-year-old scolded.

Chet hurried them off towards the punch bowl as the families came in and greeted each other. Rachel swallowed the urge to run. She had promised to be more social in her new life, even though the anxiety of so many people was overwhelming at times. Knowing Chet was nearby helped.

Rachel was about to move towards the punch table herself when a bunch of children rushed passed her, and one little girl hid behind her peering around her legs. Rachel looked down with a smile, but it froze on her face. She recognized Emily, one of the dance students, but she was wearing a black unitard and a blue cape and hood over her shoulder. Rachel could see the little red, plastic gem stuck to her forehead.

"Come on, Raven! We need to beat the HIVE!"

The cold chills shot up her spine as the little girl darted to her brother and his friends. They stood there dressed in cheap Halloween costumes, but she recognized who they were.

"You can't beat the Teen Titans, HIVE!" George, dressed as Robin, shouted.

Trying not to allow her legs to shake, Rachel decided to move towards a seat as five other children dressed in the costumes of the HIVE stepped out. One girl with the cheap pink wig and black dressed pointed at the faux Robin with a laugh.

"You can't stop the mistress of bad luck, Bird brain. HIVE! Attack pattern Alpha!"

And then the candy started flying. Multi-colored plastic balls, darts, and foam flew at the two teams as they mocked battle, but it did not last long as the parents quickly broke them up.

'By Azar, that...that was too much.'

No matter what she did, there was no way to escape the past, was there? The little girl looked like Jinx and even sounded like Jinx. Rachel's breath caught in her throat. How did the girl know about the attack command? It was not like their battles were recorded.

As the girl came over, Rachel smiled weakly.

"Hey! I love your costume."

"Thank you!"

"Where did you learn that phrase, by the way?" Was the question nonchalant enough?

"Oh! The lady in the back who is filling the punch bowls. She taught it to me!"

It was like an ice dagger being shoved through her heart as the little girl skipped away with her mom. Rachel could not move, could not breathe, could not turn her head to look. She and Chet were the only ones working here today, and they did not get help. There was not supposed to be any woman filling punch bowls.

'No, no, no, no, no, NO! FUCK NO!'

Rachel looked at the door. If she started running now, it would take time for them to figure out where she was going. Maybe she could get out of the city and disappear again. Chet moved towards the door to let in more kids as a pang of worry and guilt coursed through her.

She would have to leave him at her mercy. Looking towards the backroom door, Rachel stood shakily and began to make her way to the door. She scooped up the baseball bat they kept in the corner. If she was quick enough, Rachel might get her before she knew it.

Rachel pushed the flimsy door open to the back room and paused as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The white folding tables with the extra punch making materials and bags of half drained candy piled around, but she did not see anybody. She took another step in when she caught the scent to her right. Blueberries.

The hand was like an iron grip on her wrist, and she let the bat go out of surprise. Rachel felt spun around, and the hot, familiar, smooth lips planted on her own. Rachel inhaled the delicious scent of the perfume and the scent of Jinx. It was so familiar yet so invasive. The woman released her, and Rachel stumbled back, trying to put distance between the two.

It was Jinx. There was no way of mistaking those pink eyes that looked at her like a predator cornering her prey. She wore a dark hoodie that covered her hair and jeans instead of her trademark dress and leggings.

"No, oh god, no," Rachel choked out, her eyes wide with terror.

"Hello, Raven," Jinx cooed softly.

Rachel's eyes went to the bat, and Jinx followed. A frown crossed Jinx's face.

"Rae, I'm not here to hurt you," Jinx said cautiously. "I'd thought you'd realize we're past that."

"I...I don't know what to think right now. And don't call me Raven. She died three years ago."

"She looks alive...and delicious to me."

Jinx took another step forward, and Rachel stepped back. The frown on the pinkette's face deepened.

"Raven...er...Rachel. I'm not here to give you away or drag you back."

"Why are you here?" the girl asked, trying not to lose her voice.

"Well, I was hoping to steal you for myself," Jinx joked. "But I see you've shacked up with someone. He's cute. Nice butt."

"Leave him alone!" Rachel squeaked.

Jinx stepped back and sat slowly into one of the folding chairs.

"This isn't how I expected this to go," Jinx murmured perplexed.

"Did you think I was going to run away with you or something?"

"No, but I didn't think you'd treat me like the enemy. Not after all that shit with Nocturnus."

Raven slowly lowered her own trembling body into a chair, and the two women stared across at each other.

"I...I had an accident," Rachel started.

"I know, Ibraham told me a bit of it," Jinx shrugged. "I didn't expect you to take off running, though. I'd have taken you in."

"I...had to go." Rachel's eyes dropped towards the floor.

"Ah. Well, I guess I can understand the need to flee. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing if I were in your situation."

Silence reigned again as only the din of the children, muffled by the walls, filled the room.

"Why are you here?" Rachel asked again, this time more steady with her voice.

"Well, two reasons. I wanted to see if I could recruit you as a HIVE specialist."

"What?" Rachel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You might not have your magic anymore, but you still have all that knowledge and experience. I wanted to see if I could recruit you as a freelance specialist. Our teams send you data at times, and you give them your expert opinion. Pays pretty solid, and you don't have to be in the field."

"Me? Work for the HIVE?"

"It's better money than a cupcake cafe or whatever the hell you call it."

The HIVE. The lure of the supernatural, the world of the heroes and villains. She had stayed out of it for so long, but the siren song was calling to her.

"I don't know. I...I wanted all of that to die with the demon side of me."

"Um ...sorry to break it to you, gal, but your demon side didn't die."

Rachel's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"Yeah, bird brain trained her up and domesticated your demon half. She's now Raquelle of Skath, and she fights with the Titans."

So, she was replaced. Rachel's heart dropped a bit more. Robin did find a way to replace her. She could not even imagine how furious he would have been and how satisfying it was to replace Rachel completely.

"I see."

"That reminds me of the second thing."

"What?"

"The Titans know you're in Traverse City. They'll be here tomorrow."

The fear returned, the desire to run as far as possible. Rachel breathing began to come in short gasps as she stared at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do. She felt the soft hand on her knee and the presence in front of her. The girl's head shot down to see Jinx kneeling in front of her with a smile.

"Shhh, it'll be okay. I see you've been blessed with a full range of emotions now."

"They're shitty to have," Rachel choked out between the tears. The pinkette gently wiped them away.

"I'm here, sweetie, everything is going to be okay."

That was too much. Rachel burst into tears and threw her arms around the pinkette and sobbed into her shoulder.

"Listen, you come with me. I've got a safe house in Traverse city that's not on any of the goody-two-shoes' radar. You can lay low until they give up and leave. They're only here to investigate Doctor Light. Once he's defeated, they won't have any excuse to remain. Then we can talk about where to go from there."

Rachel pulled gently away as Jinx reluctantly let her go. The crying girl tried to rub the tears away.

"I can't leave Chet," Rachel said. "He's been the kindest man to me, and I can't just run away."

There was a small spark of iron in Jinx's eyes, but it faded.

"Well, we can find a use for the boy toy. How much does he know?"

"Nothing. All he knows is I was some runaway he found and rescued on the streets."

"Men are so easy to win over," Jinx chuckled. "Well, the big thing is to stay out of the reach of your ex-boyfriend."

"How...how is Robin?"

"He goes by Nightwing now," Jinx grunted, helping Rachel back to her chair.

"And it did not go so well. After he lost track of you in Los Angeles, he spent the next year and a half terrorizing any town he thought you were in. I have never seen such an enraged individual."

Jinx pulled back her collar to show a thin scar behind under hear ear gracing the side of that lovely neck.

"I had a run-in with him. Dude knows how to inflict pain."

Rachel's hand went instinctively to her mouth with eyes wide.

"Shhhh," Jinx said with a smile. "He was in a dark place. I survived, and the bat gave him a sound thrashing. He's made it up to me since then."

"Made it up to you?"

Jinx's eyes twinkled. "He might be a decent torturer, but I know how to humiliate. We're even now."

Jinx stood and looked towards the door.

"Your boyfriend is going to notice you're missing and come looking for you. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to carry on with my life," Rachel said. "I'm going to pretend this encounter never happened."

A pang of hurt caressed Jinx's eyes, but Rachel gave a half-smile.

"but I might be able to advise someone once in a while. Chet and I are thinking of refurbishing the dance studio, and we'll need money. Don't earn much on our paychecks."

Jinx grinned.

"Deal. You keep your head down, and I'll make it my mission to keep the Titans away from you."

"Thanks, but why are you doing this?"

Rachel studied Jinx's eyes but saw the message written there. The loving look was all Rachel needed to know the motivation of protecting her and keeping Robin away.

"I may not be able to have you," Jinx whispered huskily. "but at least you're in my life again, and I only have to share with one other person."

With that, the pinkette disappeared out the back door and into the ally.

------

Like the chapter? Leave a comment on your favorite website!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022185/chapters/53121730

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13299019/8/Raven-s-Wish

#teen titans #fanfic #fanfiction #teen titans fanfic #robrae #raejinx #ivedonestranger fics

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genocider-syo-is-still-my-queen · 6 years

Text

Mukuro Ikusaba week day 2 - friends!

It was over, they’d escaped the school… now Mukuro had to decide what to do next. Well, there was the obvious answer - continue as a member of Fenrir. But was that really the right choice? She thought over her interactions with the other students, and made her decision…

Mukuro: That was an amazing performance!

Sayaka: Thank you dear! I’m glad you liked it, it means a lot to get an exclamation mark out of you.

Mukuro: Exclamation mark?

Sayaka: Ah, don’t worry about it.

Mukuro: If you don’t mind me asking, why did you become an idol?

Sayaka: I’ve always admired the girls I saw on TV. I saw them, and how happy they were, and I really wanted to be like them. So, I did! There wasn’t anything special, I just enjoy it.

Mukuro: Ah, that’s understandable. I do envy you a little, you do always seem so happy…

Mukuro: You don’t like baseball?

Leon: It’s not that I don’t like it, I just wanna do something different! I’m definitely gonna be the best punk rock star you’ve ever seen!

Mukuro: I look forward to it… honestly, I can’t imagine giving up my talent.

Leon: Well, I guess it’s different for everyone. I know I could continue with baseball, and I’d be great at it, but I just don’t have the passion for it anymore, ya know?

Mukuro: Yes. It’s terrible when you lose your passion for something you once loved, isn’t it?

Leon: Yeah, it really sucks… dammit, we shouldn’t be getting bogged down like this! Let’s keep it positive, all right!

Mukuro: Y-yeah… that would be good.

Mukuro: Do you ever wonder what happened to your siblings?

Byakuya: No. After being cast out from the Togami family, they’re of no use to me.

Mukuro: Harsh words…

Byakuya: Well I have to be harsh, don’t I? I had to do so much to become heir, and I won’t let any weaknesses take it away from me.

Mukuro: Do you miss them?

Byakuya: I don’t have to answer any of your questions. But if you insist, there are moments when I feel their presence might be nice. They were good people, in personality if not in usefulness.

Mukuro: That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard you say since you got here…

Mukuro: That’s really cute…

Chihiro: You think so? I don’t know, I just wanted a new avatar. I don’t know if a bunny is the right choice though…

Mukuro: Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but they’re my favourite animal. And I guess, you should do what makes you happy?

Chihiro: I guess that’s one way of looking at it. But I didn’t expect you to be a fan of cute things.

Mukuro: I guess, but my entire life doesn’t revolve around the military. And bunnies are so nice, how could anyone not like them?

Chihiro: Yeah! I agree completely! I’ve been told that I’m sort of like one myself.

Mukuro: I can see that. If I was an animal… maybe I’d be a cat.

Mukuro: No matter how hard you try, you’re never going to be able to get those iron plates off.

Mondo: Like hell I’m gonna be trapped in here for another 25 days! I want out! And now!

Mukuro: Hey, you should calm down. It won’t last forever, even if it feels like it.

Mondo: Nothing can… like my gang. I really love them, and I have so much fun with them… but one day we’ll have to split up. I know it’s coming, but it’ll still hurt like hell.

Mukuro: And one day I’ll leave Fenrir for good… I’d never even thought about it.

Mondo: And everyday I spend in here is another day I’m not spending with them! Which is why I need to get out!

Mukuro: Hey hey, you’re going to break something… maybe yourself at this rate…

Mukuro: Oh, hello Toko. I was just reading your book, it’s really good!

Toko: Ugh, don’t say that. It’s obvious you don’t mean it.

Mukuro: Why would I lie about something like this? I’m serious. You’re really talented. I’d love to have a romance like this.

Toko: Like you’d ever understand…

Mukuro: Maybe not, I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love before… but it really speaks to me, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. I just really see all the couples as so natural.

Toko: You think so? Most people complain the scenarios are too outlandish…

Mukuro: Whether or not that’s true, it’s clear you understand people, and what connects them. Whether it’s love or friendship, I see a lot of myself in them…

Syo: Heya freckles! How’s it going?

Mukuro: Wait, aren’t I meant to be the first to talk in all of these?

Syo: So what? I like to break the mold a little, shake things up a bit! You should try it sometime.

Mukuro: Umm… I really like bunnies? Does that shake things up?

Syo: Hmm, good start. But that’s still falling into the ‘gap moe’ thing… but it’s totally adorable!

Mukuro: Umm… thank you?

Syo: Oh dontcha worry about it! I ain’t gonna kill you, I only kill the people that hurt Toko. Not that stupid ‘I kill people I love’ bs that people seem to claim.

Mukuro: You were the one who claimed it in the first place though…

Mukuro: Aren’t you going to spend your free time with other people?

Ishimaru: Nonsense! I must keep up my studies, even if we’re trapped in this place!

Mukuro: I was hoping I could hang out with you, but you’re obviously busy so-

Ishimaru: Don’t worry, I will let you study with me! I will even tutor you in areas you struggle at!

Mukuro: Thanks. I guess my Japanese could use some work, I have spent a lot of time out of the country.

Ishimaru: Japan is a lovely country. My dream is to be the prime minister one day, I hope you’ll be in the country for that.

Mukuro: I probably will… I’d forgotten how nice it was. When I lived with my father, we weren’t allowed many freedoms, and after that I only ever saw the streets… but I don’t really want to leave now.

Mukuro: Hello. What are you drawing now?

Hifumi: Well, I was requested to draw a doujin of a pair of sisters, separated at a young age. And their heartwarming reunion after one of them becomes famous, and the other recognises them from a poster.

Mukuro: That sort of sounds familiar… who requested this?

Hifumi: A fan who wishes to remain anonymous. And of course I would never wish to break someone’s trust in such a fashion.

Mukuro: Well, it’s either a huge coincidence, or it was Junko.

Hifumi: I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.

Mukuro: Well, either way, it’s nice that she’d think of me like that… I miss the old days…

Mukuro: Here’s your tea my lady, I hope I made it properly this time.

Celeste: Much better dear! Keep it up and you’ll make B rank in no time!

Mukuro: I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that… I’ve never really taken on a role like this before.

Celeste: Well it doesn’t seem that way to me. It seems like you’re good at adapting to new situations. I really admire that in a person.

Mukuro: Uh… thank you. As a soldier I sort of had to adapt to new environments and adversaries, so maybe it’s the same concept.

Celeste: My my, I never thought I’d ever hear tea and combat being compared. I have to say, I’m curious. Would you care to delight me with some tales of battles gone by?

Mukuro: I can… as soon as I think of a good one…

Mukuro: Alright. And how about, uh, bunnies? Surely they can’t be a conspiracy, they’re too cute.

Hagakure: Ah yes, that’s what they want you to think. That’s how they lure you in! They’re all robots, fluffy robots planted by the government. They have hidden microphones and cameras. And when you speak to them, they hear everything…

Mukuro: I don’t know what you say when petting bunnies, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t want the government to hear.

Hagakure: It seems you can resist their brain scan abilities then! I dunno, I always want to pour out my heart to them. Do you not rant about global warming to rabbits?

Mukuro: No? Does anyone?

Hagakure: I do! But enough about that, what other subjects do you want subjected to the cold truth of the illuminati?

Mukuro: Well, how about…

Mukuro: You really are the strongest person in the world. Even after all this time I can’t lay a hand on you.

Sakura: You’ve gotten much closer since the first time we sparred.

Mukuro: Thanks. It must be boring for you, being able to defeat everyone.

Sakura: Not at all. It’s good to keep myself in shape. Besides, I need to keep training, as there’s someone I’ve never been able to defeat.

Mukuro: Really? I hope you manage someday, I’m sure you can do it.

Sakura: I hope so too. It’s my goal in life to truly be the strongest person in the world. Do you have a goal like that?

Mukuro: Not really. Usually I’m just fighting to stay alive. It’s fun I guess, but maybe I could do more...

Mukuro: Are you sure you want me to help you? I’m not the best at cooking anything other than rations.

Aoi: Don’t worry about it! I have no clue what I’m doing either, so it’s gonna be perfect! Anyway, I wanna surprise the others, and you can keep a secret right?

Mukuro: I can. What made you want to make this for the others anyway?

Aoi: Oh, you know, everyone’s always working so hard, and who doesn’t love a hot pot after a long day’s work? And I can sorta remember how mum made it.

Mukuro: I was never able to do something like that… I never even met my mum, I don’t think.

Aoi: Oh… well sorry for bringing it up. Maybe when we’re out of here you can go look for her?

Mukuro: I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try… and maybe it’d be good for Junko as well…

Mukuro: Uh… do you want to take a bath together?

Kyoko: Oh, maybe later. But I mainly brought you here because there are no cameras in here.

Mukuro: Oh. Right, sorry. So what did you want to talk about? Did you find something?

Kyoko: Hmm… not really. I just wanted to have a conversation with you, without being monitored. I don’t mind what we talk about, anything really.

Mukuro: Ah, I’m not good at conversations… uh… what’s your? Do you? Are you?

Kyoko: I still can’t remember my talent, I do use L’oreal, and yes, I’m bi.

Mukuro: You figured out what I was going to say from just that? That’s really impressive…

Mukuro: Hey, what are you going to do after all this is over?

Makoto: I’m not sure. Honestly, compared to the rest of you, I don’t have that much a future, do I?

Mukuro: Don’t say that. You definitely have a future, I can see you making millions as an inspirational speaker.

Makoto: Haha, maybe… so are you gonna go back to Fenrir?

Mukuro: Well, is there anything else I can do? I am the ultimate soldier after all. It would make sense.

Makoto: I guess… but hey, you don’t have to decide your future now if you don’t want to. Do what you want! And make sure you’re happy!

Mukuro: Mmm… you really are hopeful, aren’t you? Thank you.

Mukuro: Hello.

Junko: Ah, Muki! It’s so good to see you! Are you ready for the makeover of your life, cause you’re gonna love it! I’m tellin’ ya, the guys will be flocking around!

Mukuro: Thanks but that’s not-

Junko: The gals too, if that’s what you’re into!

Mukuro: Thanks… oh, I was talking to Hifumi and-

Junko: Oh he told you about that? Bummer, I was hoping it would be a surprise… but yeah, here it is, our manga. I was kinda hoping it would be… uh… a way to try and make a better new impression? I mean, when we first met at this school it was in chaos, and we didn’t really get the reunion I wanted, so this was sort of my ideal way?

Mukuro: Thank you, it really means a lot. You were a little intimidating when I saw you here, but you’re the best sister that I could ever ask for.

Mukuro looked at the others, at her sister, and realised that she couldn’t leave this behind. She could find something other than Fenrir. And she’d be able to spend more time with her friends. Makoto, Kyoko, Sayaka, it’d be fine, wouldn’t it? And maybe she could even find a goal. That would be nice… it was funny, if she hadn’t been kidnapped she wouldn’t have come to this conclusion… but now she’d found it, she wouldn’t go back.

#mukuro ikusaba #mukuroikusabaappreciationweek #mukuroikusabaweek #danganronpa

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lexinthelibraryofdreams · 7 years

Text

Worthy

Imagine found at @gayeggimagines: “Imagine being able to hold Mjolnir”

Words: 1736

I’d say the story is placed even before the first Thor movie. Also, I was was too lazy to add more of his companions (sorry about that) and I know that physics usually don’t work like that but since when is Thor restricted by physics, right?

You rolled to your side to escape the swing of the blade, then place a kick onto your opponent’s knee. He grunted and stumbled, giving you the necessary time to get back on your feet. Two fingers closed around an arrow in your quiver and you pushed it through his neck. Only heartbeat after you had pulled it out again, you had turned around, nocked the arrow and sent it flying into another enemy’s eye. That gave you a moment to overlook the battlefield from the slightly elevated position you were on. The fight was taking place in the ruins of the old kingdom of this world. At the moment, your troop was at the former town wall, close to the forest. You were on top of the remains of a watchtower, high enough to be out of reach for most enemies but close enough to the ground to not hurt yourself in the case of the ruin crumbling under you. At least that was what you hoped.

Your eyes focused on the rest of your team. Thor was tearing through the enemies, red cape flowing and laughter booming as Mjolnir knocked opponents out of the way as if they were mere training dummies. Not far away from your position was Loki, all twirling blades and flashing illusions.

“Well, looks like they can handle themselves” you mumbled, scanning the rest of the field. You could only see one of Thor’s four friends, Lady Sif, who was busy decapitating an enemy. You immediately saw the assassin sneaking up behind her. In a swift motion, you nocked another arrow, aimed and pierced his heart with a precision, most archers could dream of. Your people had the benefit of greatly enhanced senses, making you a perfect scout and a brilliant archer. You had been sent to Asgard as part of peace negotiations between Odin and your father, you people’s king. From there on, you had been trained to support the princes on the battlefield and to seek out hidden threats.

Right now, one was approaching the older prince. “Thor!” you yelled and he turned around, a wide grin plastered across his face. “Berserks between the trees” you gestured towards the beginning of the forest, pointing out the shadowy figures between them. Fighting them would be a pain in the ass. They weren’t particularly smart and didn’t aim at all but that was balanced out by their sheer force and the fact, that if they started running, nothing could stop them. Plus, their skin was hard and thick, making it almost impossible for you to pierce it with your arrows.

There were three of them, high on bloodlust. And all three approached Thor. He whirled Mjolnir around, causing his cape and hair to flow in the upcoming wind. The other enemies started concentrating on the rest of your troop, knowing better than to stand in the way of a Berserk, let alone three. Considering the amount of strength the prince had even without his hammer, you expected him to be capable to deal with them, at least for a while. In that time, you would concentrate on stopping the others from getting run over. To your luck, Queen Frigga had enchanted your quiver, so it was constantly refilling with the arrows you had already used, making sure you would never run out of ammunition. Something extremely practical, as you shot one arrow after the other, impaling enemy after enemy. If you only had have a limited amount of arrow, you never would have survived until now.

For a while, it actually looked like you could hold yourself until the rest of Asgard’s army would arrive, something all of you wished would happen soon. Even though you basically had an unlimited amount of arrows, you hadn’t unlimited energy and neither did the others. Loki was the first to stumble, the high amount of used magic leaving him vulnerable for a second. You wanted to help, to buy him just enough time to get on his feet again, as Thor yelled your name. “Y/N! Watch out!”

You swirled around, just in time to see the Berserk running straight at you with no sign of stopping. The next heartbeat, it crushed into the ruins you were standing on, taking your balance and causing you to fall to the ground with the rest of the walls. You heard the others call your name but they sounded distant. As you tried to push yourself up, you grunted and flinched. Your vision blurred and you were barely able to hold yourself up on all four. Apparently, you had hit your head. Suddenly, there was a voice close to your ear, then a cool hand touched your neck, clearing your vision and toning down the throbbing pain in your skull. You turned around to look into Loki’s green eyes, full of worry. “I’m alright. Thank you” you said, smiling shortly while picking yourself up. He rose to his feet as well, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “That seemed like a hard hit and you looked quite knocked out. I just wanted to make sure, you weren’t hurt” he stated and you picked up your bow. “I know. And I said thank you. But for now, we have to concentrate on them” you answered, pointing towards the two remaining Berserks battling Thor. The third one seemed to have knocked himself out after running against one of the old sturdy trees. You snorted. “Able to tear down buildings but gets knocked out by a tree. Well, I suppose they aren’t as fragile as these ruins. Otherwise, they never would have survived this long on a world like this.” Loki chuckled and the two of you returned to the battle.

Now it was time for you to join Thor in his fight. You were aiming for any possible weak spot, the usually soft skin under the arms or on the back of the knees, even searching for small spots on face and neck but all of you arrows basically just bounced off of them. Only as Thor conjured a lightning strike and hit one of the monsters with its full force, the skin started to split. Your eyes immedialtey were on one of the bigger cracks and you nocked your arrow and aimed while the beast stumbled from the hit. The silver shaft of your arrow embedded itself deep into the Berserks flesh and it screamed in agony. But you weren’t the only one aiming for them. You could see Loki dodging under the swinging limbs of the monster and pushing blades into the open wounds as you fired again, planting an arrow deep into the neck of it. It groaned and stumbled backwards, running straight into Lady Sif’s blade. She seemed to have hit a sensitive spot, as the flailing of the limbs lessened and finally stopped.

Before you were able to catch a breath, the third and last Berserk howled in fury and raised its fists. No one was prepared for them to meet the ground, even less for the powerful shockwave that the punch released. The other three were knocked off of their feet, you were able to at least only drop to your knees due to the relatively large distance between you and the centre. As you raised your head again, you saw them sprawled out across the floor, trying to get up but the strike seemed to have knocked the wind out of them.

As you were desperately trying to find a situation in which you could lure the monster away without it hurting the others even more, your eyes fell onto something that reflected the light. Mjolnir. It lay close to Thor yet still out of his reach. For some reason, you could almost feel its grip in your hand and the weight of it. Your eyes shot between the furious Berserk just moments away from charging at your friends and the hammer. It was your only chance. And the monster was standing between you and the weapon. You spotted something on the beast’s jaw, something that looked like a blemish at first but you recognized it as a lightning mark from Thor’s earlier strike.

You took a deep breath and ran, leaving both your bow and your quiver behind, knowing you couldn’t use them against the monster either way. The Berserk’s eyes froze on your face but you only had one goal. You gained speed quickly, hearing Thor calling your name and for you to run but you wouldn’t stop. To your surprise, it didn’t charge at you but let you come to him. Maybe they were smarter than you had expected. As it already struck out, you fell to the ground, sliding through his legs across the uneven ground. Your hand gripped the handle firmly and you lifted as you got to your feet. To your surprise, there was no dead weight pinning you to the ground. Instead, it was lighter than you expected and you almost toppled over. Mjolnir on the other hand seemed to have something else in mind. You felt the hammer almost moving on its own, guiding the momentum from your run. Everything seemed to speed up at the moment. The Berserk had turned around quicker than you had anticipated, quicker than you had but your feet met a stone wall, using it to turn around in the air. The hand with the hammer took a wide swing as did the monster’s arm but you were faster. The metal head of the hammer met the lightning marks on the beast’s jaw, causing the bones to crunch and the force of the hit sent the monster flying into a wall where it lay unmoving.

You landed on your feet but instantly fell to your knees, your grip on Mjolnir loosening. It hit the ground next to you as you tried to catch your breath and process what just happened. Loki was the first one to help you get on your feet, as they had recovered while you had just sat there. All three of them looked at you incredulously and Thor asked the question everyone was thinking. “How?” he looked at you as he outstretched his hand, welcoming the weight of the hammer back.

You shrugged but then Thor’s previous taunts came back to your mind and you had to grin. “Well, seems like I am worthy.”

#mcu #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #lady sif #thor imagines #mjolnir

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iv-kplpt · 7 years

Text

apaiser mon âme [beauty and the beast au]

i did it. i jumped the shark and wrote beauty and the beast au for charlie and oz. it’s heavily inspired by the attitude guillermo del toro has towards his monster in shape of water; i also managed to pay an homage to wicdiv and the most iconic joke gillen ever told. @kierongillen i hope you’re proud of me. i sure as hell am not. sorry.

some things: rated m 18k words in this one, harvey dent was never exposed to the extreme pressure of lady arkham’s revolution, meaning he had an occasion to recover. he’s... not exactly doing great, but he’s a mayor (sorry alan) and in a way better shape than in game canon. he got professional help. tw for very vaguely described attempted rape. it’s absolutely not graphic, but it’s there.

Gotham was one of a kind - it was alive. Once it set its eyes on someone, it wouldn’t let go, until that person became its - it’d seep itself into waking dreams and thoughts, it’d make you miss it, it’d make you love it. With its air and its sounds and its blood, it’d make you love it - and you wouldn’t even notice. It was subtle in its ways; it’d steal you away by giving you what you wanted. A clue. An answer. A kiss.

In case of Charlie, it was a blood pact of sorts; Gotham stole her away by drawing her blood. The man who did it wasn’t aware of invisible strings attached to his limbs, wasn’t aware he’s just a puppet; for him and Charlie it was just a night of fun. He stole a kiss from her, and she pulled his hair, and he bit her, and she scratched him; and none of them knew Gotham had set its eyes on her. What was inside of her - her anger, the sadness, the dreams of vengeance - was much to the city’s liking; it wanted to make her its. So it crossed her path with one belonging to Oswald Cobblepot - Gotham’s prodigal son who was never meant to be this way. Through his touch and the way he accidentally drew her blood the city stole her away, planting a seed of longing in her thoughts - and it worked. Of course it did; it worked every time. Gotham was a very persistent city.

And so she returned one day, blissfully unaware of what Gotham was doing to her, of the fact she practically cemented her fate.

*** It took her a month to find out what became of Oswald. She didn’t go looking for the answer; truth is, she didn’t even ask herself this question. He was just a one time adventure, after all; one night of fun, ended by sneaking out in the morning. Their paths briefly crossed; and that was supposed to be it.

In the months to pass she couldn’t even remember how did she end up in the grim mansion on the outskirts of the city. The steps she took weren’t important; perhaps the city itself lead her there, taking away her free will for a moment. Perhaps it lured her there with a phonecall; it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact she found herself in a dark, mostly ruined building; its days of glory long passed, the air filled with a stench of decay and dust. And outside it was starting to rain; it looked like there’s going to be a storm. And she didn’t have a car. Everything was leading to her having to spend some time in the - seemingly abandoned - mansion; she didn’t mind. In her days on the road, she had to spend quite some time in places like this; it wasn’t anything new.

She decided to go through the rooms on the ground floor first - the stairs did still look sturdy and firm, but ground floor rooms were on hand. There was no reason for her to not visit a few of them.

She decided to start with what was at the end of the dark corridor, and make her way back to the hall this way; so she marched straight to the door, opened it-

The room seemed empty at first, empty and spacious, except for a desk that was falling apart and a massive bed in shockingly good condition; then her eyes focused on the bed.

Charlie quietly closed the door. At first, her brain only processed one thing - there was someone else in the building. Then the details came to surface - and they seemed so unreal in her mind that she opened the door again, to look at the person on the bed, at their bare skull resembling one of a bird, and three pairs of arms-

She closed the door again automatically. No one warned her there are monsters in Gotham! Sure, every city had its fair share of monsters - but she was expecting the usual kind, not what seemed like a mix of a wendigo and leshy. Con artists and murderers and pedophiles - that she could understand, that she knew how to fight. This thing… Came as a surprise.

The thing laid completely motionless, so she thought - hey, maybe it’s dead! - and took a step in its direction, lead by morbid curiosity.

The thing moved and Charlie screamed and bolted out of the room, slamming the door shut on her way out.

*** He was just taking a nap when he felt someone in the room. At first he didn’t react and just laid there, two hands on his stomach, two under his head and two just laying there; maybe it was Archie checking up on him. Maybe it was the Bat, here to have a chat. Maybe it was Waylon, though he couldn’t imagine why would Waylon come to visit - his scaly, generously toothed friend wasn’t a visiting type.

But then he heard a scream; and footsteps. Someone was running, away from the room; and he got up with a sigh, thinking it’s either another scavenger - do those people ever learn? - or a high schooler looking for some cheap thrills. If it was the former he’d have to call Waylon to help him dispose of the resulting mess; if it was the latter… Well, he’d probably also have to call Waylon. Kids these days were weak, and he caused a fair share of heart attacks. That’s what you get for breaking and entering; you end up as a dinner for Waylon Jones.

“Who dares to interrupt my slumber?!” he asked with a yawn, shuffling out of the room; silence. “You foolish mo- oh, fuck it.”

He yawned again, and he’d wince if he could; his back was itching - and even with three pairs of arms he could never reach that one spot by himself.

“Come out!” he said tiredly, wandering the hall and briefly glancing towards the stairs. “I’ll find you anyway.”

He heard some noises in the east wing and quietly went in that direction.

“Last chance, intruder!” he called out, entering the corridor. “Trust me, once I find you-”

Someone bolted out of the nearest room and ran past him, pushing him aside; he hit the wall with his back and head and groaned.

“Quick like a lightning!” he said mockingly, returning to the hall. “What, you wanna play hide and seek?”

He heard floor creaking behind him and when he turned around - he faced the intruder, pale like snow, holding a leg table in her shaking hands.

“I’ll be damned.” he said, crossing two arms on his chest and putting two hands in his pockets and folding the last pair behind his back. “Charlie, right?”

He knew the pale, red haired woman; he slept with her once. Actually she was the last person to see his body before he got turned.

“How do you know my name?” she asked shakingly and gasped as he took a step in her direction. “Don’t come any closer!”

He had two options there - to fuck with her a bit and to act normal.

“Oh, I have friends all over the world, Charlie.” he said calmly. “I know a lot about you.”

She furrowed her brows. She blinked. Finally, the realization hit her.

“Oh my god!” she said, not putting the piece of wood away. “Oswald? Oswald Cobblepot?”

“That’s me, yes.” he said, fixing his tie. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Are you going to eat me?” she blurted out and he sighed. That was… A reasonable question, considering the state he was in.

“No.” he said finally. “I don’t eat people. Which probably is something I’d say if I was going to eat you.” he added. “Well done, Cobblepot. Well fucking done.” he muttered and she smiled anxiously.

“You look… Different.” she said carefully and for once he was glad he has a skull instead of a normal head - she probably wouldn’t like his expression.

“Yeah, no shit.” he said. “Good different or bad different?” he asked provocatively.

“Just… Different. Very different.”

“You mean last time I had a pretty face.” he sighed, suddenly remembering the gentle touch of her fingers on his face. “Trust me, I miss it too. Made looking in the mirror a lot more pleasant.”

“I almost didn’t notice.” she fired back, seemingly more calm. “I was too busy staring at your arms. There’s six of them.”

“Mmmhmm.” he muttered, staring at her; he wondered if she can feel the stare of his empty eyes. “Give me that thing.”

“What, you mean this?” she asked, glancing at the wooden leg; he nodded and reached out to grab it. She flinched.

“I want to scratch my back.” he said impassively, not at all surprised by her reaction; it’s been months. He grew used to this stuff. “So if you could just-”

“Sure.” she interrupted him hastily, handing him the piece of wood. “I’m sorry, I’m just… Surprised. That’s all.”

“Well, imagine how I felt when I looked into the mirror and saw this.” he muttered, gesturing towards his skull and finally getting rid of that itch. “Ah.”

She was standing with her arms crossed awkwardly on her chest; she seemed tense - but at least she didn’t look afraid anymore.

“What brings you here anyway?” he asked, putting the piece of wood away on the nearby banister. “Sightseeing? Scavenging? Boredom?”

“It’s raining.” she replied with a shrug. “And I needed shelter, so… Here I am.”

“So we established what brought you into my lair… But why are you back in Gotham?”

“Because I’m trying to settle down again, and this city speaks to me.” she said with another shrug. “What, is returning to Gotham a crime punishable by death?”

“Usually people who come back do so because of some grand reason.” he said, thinking back to his own return. “Vengeance, or lack of other options…”

“Well, I came back just because I wanted to.” she said. “Good enough reason for you?”

(That wasn’t the whole truth, and in that moment he knew - he knew the city marked her as its. He knew, but he didn’t say anything, lest it would break the spell.)

“That’s a perfect reason for anything.” he said instead. “Very hedonistic. Self-indulgence fits you.”

“That’s… Nice, I guess.” she muttered hesitantly. “Alright, so, let’s address the elephant in the room.”

“The elephant being my appearance, even though I have a beak, rather than a trunk.” he said calmly. “You’re taking it rather well. Are you sure you’re not going to pass out?”

“I think my failsafe system kicked in and just… Took it as the most logical conclusion.” she said with a sigh. “A giant, abandoned mansion in Gotham? Of course its inhabitant looks like this. Logical.”

“...fair enough.” he said after a brief pause, turning around. “In any case, it’s getting cold. I can offer you some tea… And a blanket. Heating’s busted.”

“There’s no catch, right?” she asked, following him hesitantly. “I assume… You’re not a fae. Right?”

“I’m not going to trap you in here with a ritual disguised as serving you tea, if that’s what you’re asking.” he replied calmly, stepping over a loose plank.

She laughed nervously and tripped over the same plank; he quickly turned around, catching her with all six of his arms.

“Wow.” she said after he let go of her. “That’s a weird sensation.”

“I’m… Sorry.” he said hesitantly and she shook her head.

“I said weird, not bad. It’s just hands. More of them than there logically should be, but… It’s comprehensible.”

“Are you trying to talk yourself into not having a panic attack?”

“Maybe.” she admitted and he snickered, shaking his head. “Now give me that blanket.”

“As you wish.”

She sighed after they entered the kitchen - one of very few rooms that were in good condition.

“It’s way cleaner than I thought it’d be.” she said, sitting down at the table.

“I have three pairs of arms and some friends to help.” he said, opening the cabinet with one pair of arms and reaching for tea with the other one. “I’m stealing electricity from the Wayne Manor.”

“And Bruce is well aware of this fact.” she said and he froze for a moment. “He doesn’t mind though.”

“And how do you know?”

“He told me.” she said matter-of-factly. “At a party. He told me someone hooked themselves up to his systems, though he didn’t tell who… But he did imply he knows.”

“How generous of him.” Oswald said dryly, setting the cup in front of her. “A drop in the ocean of what he owes me.”

“And I’ll gladly listen to the entire list, once you give me that blanket. It is cold.”

He handed her a blanket and leaned against the sink, staring at her.

“Alright.” she said, after tightly wrapping herself in wool. “Proceed. I’m all ears.”

“Well.” he said eventually. “It all began twenty years ago…”

*** Twenty years ago, Thomas Wayne, Hamilton Hill and Carmine Falcone took everything from Oswald; his family, his home, his money, his future. And as he was exacting his revenge - well-deserved, Charlie decided, even though sins of the father weren’t sins of the child - he hurt innocent people. He took an innocent life, and destroyed another one; he destroyed Harvey Dent’s life - and for that he got his punishment. A physical form, fitting the deed; monstrous and grotesque. He started turning the moment Harvey’s screams pierced the air - and the Bat stopped the police from taking him in, letting him escape and hide instead.

“The city punished him.” the grim protector of Gotham said. “Just as it did with many others before him. Let him be; let him bear his curse.”

“How do you know what he said if you escaped?”

“I’m extrapolating from the fact I hadn’t been arrested. Batman… Seems to be commanding authority over the police.”

The storm was raging outside and she could hear loud whizzing coming from untight windows; but she was warm and comfortable, sipping her tea and staring at skull-headed, six-armed Oswald in front of her.

“How do you know the city punished you?” she asked finally and he sighed.

“I talked to some people.” he said. “John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara, June Moone… Good with the occult stuff. And they all said the same - the curse’s unbreakable. A gordian knot… And no sword sharp enough to cut through it.”

“Ouch.” she said eventually. “That’s…”

“Save your pity.” he interrupted her. “I came to terms with who I am. Sure, it’s a very lonely life, but… It could be worse.”

“I can fix that.” she said immediately. “Partially, that is. I can… Keep you company.”

(She barely knew anyone in Gotham, and she felt like loneliness and the constant anxiety-induced urge to drop everything and disappear are not a good combo; she needed an anchor. And Oswald seemed like a good start.)

“So eager for my company, Charlie?” he asked and she could hear a smile in his voice. “That’s very unladylike.”

“Everything I do is unladylike.” she said nonchalantly, slowly getting used to his appearance. “Do you take the offer, or not?”

“I do.” he said finally, looking out of the window; it was dark outside. When they weren’t looking night had fallen.

She sighed.

“I should probably get back to the hotel.” she said hesitantly. “Wayne Manor is not far away, I could… Ask Bruce for a ride.”

“Or you could simply stay the night.” he suggested, just as she thought he would. “I’ll let you out in the morning. Promise.”

“We’ll see.” she said lightly. “But… Thanks. Are you stealing running water from Bruce as well?”

“Mmmhm. That and wifi connection.” “...you’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“See for yourself. The fastest connection this side of Gotham River. His password is WayneManor001.”

“Maybe you should steal some furniture from him as well.” she said. “And a few buckets of paint…”

“The interior of my house fits my interior.” he said grimly, and - due to his lack of actual face - she had no idea whether he’s serious or just joking. “My friends don’t seem to mind, so I never bothered.”

“Your friends?” she repeated after him. “You said you’re lonely.”

“Two people in my life is hardly a crowd.” he sighed. “There’s Waylon, and Archibald… And that’s it. I’m all by myself.”

“Well, make that three.” she said, emptying her cup. “Do you have some… Clothes I could borrow? And a towel.”

“I do, actually.” he said. “I still have some stuff from back when I still had one pair of arms.”

“Thanks.” she said, suddenly realizing his suit - why was he even wearing one? - was clearly custom made; each pair of arms had its own sleeves, rather than holes. “Oh, and Oswald?”

“Mmm?”

“It’s good to see you again.” she breathed out. “Even though, truth to be told… I’m not sure if it really is you.”

“I bit you on your collarbone.” he said absentmindedly, two of his hands lightly tapping on the counter. “A bit too hard. There was blood, but you didn’t seem to mind, and especially not when I-”

“Alright, that’s enough!” she interrupted him. “I believe you. It’s really you.”

She got up, still wrapped up in the blanket.

“Now give me some clothes and show me the way to the bathroom.”

“You are charmingly direct in how demanding you are.” he said, heading out of the kitchen. “Precisely the reason I like you.”

“Did you just call me a brat?” she asked, following him; he laughed, shaking his head.

“No, I called you charming. World of difference.”

Was he hitting on her? It felt a bit like he was.

Luckily, the bathroom was clean; she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to withstand rust and mold.

“Thanks.” she said, taking a pile of clothes and a towel from him. “No peeking.”

“I know what you look like naked, Charlie.” he reminded her. “I don’t need to be a creep.”

“...right.” she muttered, quickly turning her eyes away.

As the hot water washed over her body she closed her eyes and wondered if he ever jacked off to the thoughts of her, and if yes - if he somehow made use of his additional limbs.

***

“You didn’t tell her the entire truth.” he heard a familiar voice as water started running. He turned around with a sigh, only to face Batman, grim as usual. “Lying again?”

“She doesn’t need to know.” he said calmly. During the last few months, he grew used to Batman popping in and out as he pleased to patronize him a little. “It doesn’t concern her. At all.”

“She’s going to get the wrong idea.” Batman stated. “She’s going to think she can fix it… And her heart’s going to break.”

“I’d greatly appreciate it if you stayed as far away from my personal life as possible.” Oswald said, folding two of his arms behind his head, two on his chest and two behind his back. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Heartbreak never leads to anything good.” Batman said and Oswald would roll his eyes if he could. “You of all people should know it. It never leads to anything, except for a mess someone else has to clean up.”

“So your concern is purely pragmatic.That’s good. I wouldn’t want to have you care about my personal life.” he said calmly and the Bat opened his mouth; but then the water stopped running.

“You should probably leave.” Oswald said calmly, looking over his shoulder at the bathroom door; and when he turned his head again - Batman was gone, and a window in the room was open.

“Who were you talking to?” Charlie asked, leaving the bathroom and drying her hair with a towel; she winced at the sight of an open window. “Close it! My hair’s wet, I’ll catch a cold.”

“I have developed a habit of talking to myself.” he lied smoothly, closing the window. “There. Anything else you need?”

He turned around to face her, and took a good look at her; with damp hair and bare face she looked soft - and she had freckles.

“Food.” she replied; his clothes were good few sizes too big for her and a combo of a dress shirt and sweatpants looked ridiculous. “...do you even eat? I mean, your head…”

“I don’t have to.” he said calmly, returning to the kitchen; and she followed. “The magic behind my body keeps me alive, no matter what. I don’t feel hunger… But if I do want to eat I have to be careful.”

“Right.” she said, seemingly not noticing the careless implication he just made. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

“How it looks when you eat. Morbid curiosity and such.” she said with a shrug. “Do you even have teeth?”

He turned around and opened his beak, demonstrating rows of teeth to her. She gasped, moving her head closer to get a better look.

“Holy shit!” she said with fascination. “Can I touch it?”

He nodded and she promptly put her hand inside, carefully touching his teeth,

“Sharp.” she said, taking her hand away. “Let’s… Skip the biting this time round.”

It took him a while to process what she just said.

“Are you implying you want… A reprise?” he asked with disbelief. “With me, looking like this?”

“Why not?” she said with a shrug. “You know I’m an adventurous type.”

“Right.” he said slowly, opening the fridge. “How about… Scrambled eggs?”

“I’ll eat whatever, just as long as it’s not asparagus.”

“Noted.”

*** He definitely was talking to someone as she was showering, she could hear two different voices - his and one she couldn’t recognize. But she decided to let him have his secrets; after all, she was just one step above a random stranger. It was none of her business - as long as he wasn’t secretly plotting to let cannibals have her, or something along those lines.

(Gotham had a lot of interesting problems, cannibals being one of them. Every city had cannibals - but Gotham had so many of them they actually were considered a widespread issue. And she wouldn’t be surprised if he made friends among them - monsters tend to stick together.)

She felt a sting of concern when he mentioned the technical aspect of his curse. Staying alive no matter what - did he try to kill himself? Did he try starving himself?

(She understood the feeling, of being in a place so dark the only way out seemed to be hidden in rattling pill bottles and sharp blades.)

Now that some time had passed and she got used to the way he looked, to his weird head and additional limbs - she had to admit, he kind of… Made it work. It was a disturbing discovery, but it was still nothing compared to people who apparently wanted to fuck Pennywise from It. Sure, he had a bird skull instead of a head - but it had its charm. Morbid and dark - but it was still something.

(She was also very interested in those additional arms. He seemed to be in perfect control of them; and she wished for her partner to grow an additional pair many times - and he had two additional pairs! She felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine as she thought of the possibilities.)

She made her intentions very clear, even though she had a brief moment of hesitation at the sight of his - very sharp and probably straight up deadly - teeth; and he gave her a cold shoulder, not expressing any enthusiasm and asking her if she wants scrambled eggs. It was ridiculous - as if he was in any position to be picky, with this ridiculous head and those lean, strong additional arms-

“Too runny?” he asked as she was morosely stabbing her scrambled eggs with a fork.

“What?” she asked. “Oh, no, no. Lost in thoughts, that’s all.”

“In that case… Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, my thoughts will cost you way, way more.” she said, taking a bite. “I’ll keep them to myself for now.”

“Suit yourself.” he said calmly and she started to wonder how the hell does he see if his new head has no eyes.

(She decided it’s best to not dwell on the topic and simply settle on magic being an explanation.)

“I still want to see you do it, you know.” she said, pulling one leg up. “Eat, I mean. I’m curious.”

He sighed, took a bread roll, put it into his beak and chewed briefly, not taking his nonexistent eyes from her; she could feel his gaze, even if she couldn’t see it.

“There.” he said after swallowing. “Happy?”

“What about liquids though?”

He picked up a drinking straw. Of course.

“And how does your day to day life look like? Do you… Spend days in the city?”

“I tried to.” he said after a long pause. “I tried to live like a normal person, but… It was hard. Some treated me like an exotic curiosity, others refused to look at me… There’s also a matter of me being a criminal, with… An impressive track record. Not many people wanted me around, and those who did…”

He paused and shrugged.

“I didn’t want to have them around.” he added eventually. “But I’m used to everything by now. Could be worse.”

He fixed his tie while lightly tapping at the kitchen counter and keeping hands in his pockets. She yawned.

“Right. You’re tired.” he said, stepping away from the counter. “Come on.”

“Are you implying you don’t get tired anymore?” she asked, following him. “You were sleeping when I found you.”

“I can sleep, but I don’t get tired.” he said. “It’s… Complicated.”

“Aw, separate room?” she said playfully, as he opened the door to a guest bedroom. “I was hoping for some bedsharing.”

She gave him another chance to flirt back; but he didn’t take it, instead only glancing at her.

“I’m trying to be hospitable.” he said awkwardly. “Do you want… An extra blanket in case it gets colder?”

“Sure.” she said, giving up. “Thanks, Oswald.”

Maybe he simply wasn’t into her anymore; maybe he wasn’t into sex anymore. Who knows.

She fell asleep mildly disappointed.

***

He had a sleepless night - one of many. He mostly slept to pass the time; but this time he had too much on his head to fall asleep.

Her advances felt like a mockery; she couldn’t possibly be serious, not after looking at him. Gotham turned him into a creature as unappealing as possible - a physical form fitting the bearer. Faceless and terrifying.

In early morning hours - Waylon paid him a visit.

Waylon. That was his real name, and Oswald never used the other one, same way his scaly friend never called him Penguin; he was Gotham’s original monstrosity, the original humanoid boogeyman mothers used to scare their children into eating their broccoli. Waylon found him few days after his turning; he got him out of a really dark place and kept an eye on him ever since.

(“We, monsters of Gotham… We gotta stick together. We’re like the scars on humanity’s face. And the world belongs to the beautiful. Which… We are not.”)

And now there he was, in the ruined hall of what used to be Oswald’s family home; a towering mass of muscles and scales, wearing only dress pants.

“Waylon!” Oswald greeted him in a hushed tone. “What brings you here?”

“You missed our poker night yesterday.” Waylon replied in his typical voice that sounded as if Earth was trembling at its core. “I was… Worried.”

(Even despite everything he went through - Waylon still had his soft spots, meticulously hidden under the tough exterior. One of those soft spots was the wellbeing of other deformed Gothamites; he didn’t care for the normal, same way they didn’t care for him.)

“Well, I’m alive.” Oswald said, taking another step in his direction. “I’m sorry, Waylon. Something… Came up.”

“Ah, so that explains the smell.” Waylon said knowingly and Oswald would wince if he could. “Rain, strawberries, fabric softener and… Huh. Haven’t smelled that one in a while.” he paused for a moment, shooting Oswald a puzzling - and slightly troubling - smile.

“What?” Oswald asked, demanding an answer. “What is it?”

“It’d ruin a beautiful game of cat and mouse, if I told you.” Waylon breathed out. “So use your own wits to figure it out.”

“Fine.” Oswald sighed, turning around. “Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Mmm.” Waylon grumbled in response and followed; his heavy footsteps were making loose pieces of rubble clatter.

Regular mugs and teacups were too tiny for Waylon’s hands, so Oswald kept some artisanal, porcelain jugs on hand; monstrous or not, Waylon still deserved to drink his tea out of something pretty.

“Jasmine?” the scaly man asked as he was pouring hot water over it. “I know this brand. Wayne’s butler drinks it.”

“Bruce Wayne leaves me offerings.” Oswald muttered. “Between this place, and his mansion… He never comes here and I never collect it.”

“What, did this tea crawl into your home?”

“Archie collects those things.” he said shortly and Waylon nodded. “He says it’s a shame to let them go to waste.”

Archie - Archibald Tennyson - was Oswald’s right hand man; he was complicit in his crime, even though he wasn’t present at the scene. His punishment from the city was also severe - he wasn’t allowed to abandon Oswald, lest he’d disappear from the world and everybody’s memory. He was fulfilling his duty by checking on his old boss from time to time; and Oswald knew he’d abide to his every request, every wish out of fear of disappearing. Maybe that’s he never asked Archie to do anything - that or out of fear of Archie’s fiancee’s righteous fury, as short-lived as it would be in case of her beloved violating the terms of his curse.

“Archie’s smart.” Waylon stated. “He’d be better off without you.”

“...thanks, Waylon.” Oswald said dryly. “Always know what to say to make someone feel better.”

Waylon snickered, taking a sip of his tea.

“You know me. Always a charmer.”

He looked at something over Oswald’s shoulder.

“A guest?” he asked as Oswald turned around, to face a - very pale, very quiet - Charlie. “Don’t worry, I won’t eat you… As long as you’re nice, that is.”

“Hey, Charlie.” Oswald said, getting up. “Hungry?”

“Who is that, Oswald?” she asked shakily, pointing at Waylon. “Who is that?!”

“A friend.” Oswald said quickly. “He’s… Well, not exactly harmless, but he’s not going to hurt you. Right, Waylon?”

“Right.” Waylon said calmly, setting his jug down. “I don’t eat friends. Because we are friends, right, little miss?”

“Waylon…” Charlie repeated and her face changed, as if she realized something. “Oh! That’s-”

Knowing what is she about to say Oswald quickly covered her mouth with his hand. Waylon tilted his head.

“I can smell it again.” he said grimly, getting up. “I should go. I only wanted to check if you’re alive anyway. People these days… You never know who keeps pitchfork in their closet, but then they stab you and you wish you’ve known sooner.”

“Well, no one impaled me so far.” he said, still keeping Charlie quiet. “Thanks, Waylon, I appreciate it. You take care now. Be careful.”

“I’ve been nothing but careful.” Waylon said grimly, getting up. “I’ll give Pam your regards. Miss.”

He nodded in their direction, shuffled past them and left; Oswald let Charlie go when Waylon’s heavy footsteps became inaudible.”

“Don’t call him Killer Croc.” he said as she looked at him reproachfully. “It’s a bait. He uses it to see who sees him as a person… And who sees him as a person. Use the wrong name - and you’re on his naughty list.”

“Well I didn’t know that, I’m not the Holy Spirit. That’s what the press calls him.”

“Yes, and people from the press are on his list.” he said tiredly. “Anyway. Just don’t do that next time and we’re golden.”

She looked like she wanted to say something; but instead she only nodded, sighed and sat down.

“I could use a cup of coffee.” she said. “And then I’ll get going, before my hotel issues a search party. People running it are… Very into ensuring the safety of their guests.”

“I know someone with a car.” Oswald said, taking care of her coffee. “He can give you a ride. Gotham proper is on the other side of the river, it’s… A long walk.”

“Thanks.” she said softly. “Can I see you again?”

“Of course you can.” he said, setting her cup in front of her. “Whenever you want. I… Don’t have places to be.”

“Then I’ll drop by soon.” she said with a smile. “Try to clean up more. Maybe I’ll rent some people, pay them to renovate the place…”

“No one will accept the contract.” he interrupted her, but she scoffed.

“Well then I’ll look outside Gotham. I can afford that.”

“Thanks, but like I said… The state my home is in represents the state I am in.”

“I’ll keep pressuring you.” she promised as he reached for his phone to call Archie. “I’ll make you change your mind.”

“Good luck with that.” he said nonchalantly as Archibald picked up. “Archie! I need you to do my bidding.”

“Whatever you need.” Archie said tiredly. “Your wish is my command and all that jazz.”

“I need you to give a friend of mine a lift.” he said, looking at Charlie who was sipping her coffee. “From my place, to… Where are you staying?”

“The Peak.”

“The Peak?” he repeated with disbelief, thinking back to the first time they met and she was completely broke. “You can afford The Peak but you can’t afford a car?”

“I’ll get to it eventually.” she said calmly. “I have plenty of time.”

“Right. You heard the lady.” he said back to Archie who was patiently waiting on the other end. “The Peak.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.” Archie said with a sigh. “Or forty. But I’ll be there… Eventually.”

“You do that.” Oswald said, putting his phone back in his pocket and returning his attention to Charlie. “You better get dressed. Not that I mind you stealing my old clothes, but…”

“It’ll be a walk of shame for me either way.” she said calmly. “I’ll bring spare clothes next time. And a toothbrush. Do you even brush your teeth?”

“I do, but I don’t have to.” he said. “That’s… Another thing magic takes care of for me.”

She nodded quietly and left to get dressed; her yesterday clothes were crumpled, and - combined with messy, messy hair - gave an impression of an eventful night.

“I’ll see you soon.” she promised him as Archie called out from the hall. “I promise.”

She planted a quick, light kiss on his bony beak and left, leaving behind clothes that smelled like her.

*** Killer Croc - Waylon, she corrected herself, Waylon - was not something she expected to see first thing in the morning; but when Oswald quickly and firmly pressed his hand to her mouth, silencing her instantly - she had more important things to worry about.

Such as the fact Oswald’s crocodile friend apparently was able to smell arousal, as creepy as it was. He said again - and she did have some interesting dreams that night and woke up feeling mildly amused; and when Oswald firmly silenced her she felt it again. Not embarrassment, no - she was way past feeling this way about her desires; but he was strong and smelled nice and she almost felt sad about the way he seemed to completely ignore her hints. It was disappointing - but she decided to not press, lest it would make him cut her off.

And she didn’t want that. Apart from his unconventional appearance, he seemed like a good company; better than other men she found drawn to her. Out of the entire bunch Bruce Wayne was the most interesting - at least personality-wise. He was a natural charmer, with conventionally attractive face that bored her to death; at least he was fun to talk to. That’s more than what could be said about Thomas Elliot. Direct contact with Gotham’s most renowned surgeon always left her with an unpleasant, sticky feeling on her skin, something no amount of hot water could wash away.

Within a month, Charlie got herself a reputation of a loner, only rivaling that of Bruce Wayne, who practically didn’t have a private life; she started spending more and more time in the ruined mansion just outside of Crest Hill. Oswald further fixed up the guest room for her; now it looked as if the building had never been abandoned.

(Waylon helped; she returned the favor by getting him some high quality, fresh ankimo - he devoured the entire batch in one bite.)

“The devil’s not so black as he is painted.” she said one afternoon as he was making curry in the kitchen. “You have no idea how many people told me to be careful. Thomas told me to sleep with a knife under my pillow.”

“I can imagine.” he said calmly, simultaneously mincing garlic, chopping chili and squeezing lime juice. “I have three pairs of arms. If I could I’d be a menace.”

“But you can’t.” she said, peeling potatoes. “Why? What’s stopping you?”

“Common sense. Look at what happened to me for hurting one innocent person. Can’t imagine what would happen if I decided to repeat the feat.”

“So maybe become a menace to people who are not innocent.” she suggested, reaching for another vegetable. “I’m sure Batman could use additional hands. Or… Six of them.”

“I’ll… Consider it.” he said hesitantly. “It’d be very poetic, wouldn’t be? A monster, cursed by the city stands in its defense…”

“Who knows, maybe it’d reverse the curse.”

“Ah, but it wouldn’t.” he said, shaking his head. “Trust me. I asked.”

“Who did you ask?”

“June Moone.” he said; the name told her nothing. “She’s a friend of Waylon. A lover, actually. She’s… Known in the esoteric circles. She took a look at the structure of a spell - and found a condition I have to meet to reverse it.”

“Well, what is it?” she asked breathlessly. “Is it love? Does someone have to fall in love with you?”

He turned his head and looked at her.

“No.” he said finally. “Why would it be love? That doesn’t make sense, Charlie. Nice to know you’re a hopeless romantic though.”

“Oh.” she said, feeling mildly disappointed. “It was a guess. I hoped… I might be able to help.”

She blurted it out without thinking; she should have stopped herself. But she couldn’t help the fact she felt at ease around Oswald, she felt warm and safe and couldn’t help using him as an anchor, keeping her from dropping Gotham same way she did with many places before. If she left she’d have to leave him behind - and she had a feeling she’d miss him and the way he juggled with apples and the way he shaped his sentences. She could see herself falling in love with him.

“What?” he asked after a pause that went on for a pocket-sized infinity. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” she muttered; her cheeks were burning red. “A… Slip of a tongue.”

“Sure.” he said, sounding resigned. “Just a slip, nothing more…”

“Yeah.” she said, staring at the floor. “Yeah.”

*** He was this close to telling her what’d actually reverse the spell, this close - but he didn’t. Partially out of defiance - and partially because he felt like he’s being mocked. He didn’t like being mocked, but he decided it’s a small price for some additional company; it’s not like mockery was all she ever did. She was already better than the majority of Gotham.

She didn’t stay the night that time; she excused herself, saying she wasn’t feeling well.

She also didn’t visit the next day. Or the next.

It took Waylon to spell it out for him, during their poker night, when they were joined by Pamela whose hair looked like autumn leaves.

“Before I say anything of substance…” Waylon said, after listening to Oswald spill his guts “I’d just like to point out you’re about to take advice from a guy who looks like a crocodile and eats people from time to time. That’s sad, Oswald. Your life is sad.”

“HEY.” he said in response; Pamela laughed, covering her mouth; it was habit back from the time when she had to look out for being too loud, too brash, too visible.

(Her flaming hair and radiant smile made her visible always, no matter her efforts.)

“And my formal education ended when I bit off nun’s thumb.” Waylon continued calmly, much to Oswald’s dismay. “My last stable job was wrestling alligators. I basically learned to read on circus posters… And harlequins.”

“You guys are adorable.” Pam said. “Please, go on. I enjoy watching you.”

“Don’t give me that!” Oswald protested. “I’ve heard you referring to bloody Kant as light reading.”

“Because his ideas on categorical imperative are laughably naive.” Waylon said in a deadpan tone of voice. “But the point still stands, Oswald. Nasty, bitey monster here. Your life? Sad.”

“Yes, destroy him!” Pamela giggled. “That’s what he deserves for being a walking harlequin novel.”

“Thanks, Pam.” Oswald muttered, returning his attention to Waylon. “Anyway. Like I said. I feel… Mocked. She’s cruel. Is she cruel?”

“No, but you’re an idiot.” Waylon said calmly. “And it’s kind of impressive, really. You used to be a criminal mastermind, a con artist, a masterful liar…”

“What?” he asked, feeling helpless. “What?!”

“She’s been hitting on you this entire time, you fool.” Waylon said calmly, patiently, as Pamela was losing her shit in the background. “You imbecile. You moron.”

“What?” Oswald repeated, as the puzzles clicked in his head. “...oh my god.”

“You are hopeless.” Pamela said, wiping away her resin tears. “You don’t deserve a relationship, not because you’re a monster, but because you’re an idiot, too busy wallowing in your own self-pity to notice someone’s actual intentions.”

“Wow, Pamela, what a great friend you are.” Oswald said dryly, getting up. “Anyway, if you excuse me…”

“Where are you going?!” she protested. “I’m winning! You can’t leave now!”

“That’s precisely why I’m leaving.” he said, putting his coat on. “That and the fact I have a beautiful girl to charm, who apparently had been hitting on me for over a month.”

He left hastily, followed by Pamela’s tearful protests and Waylon’s tired sighs.

Waylon’s hideout was a short walk away from Charlie’s hotel; he walked the streets with his head high, not minding shocked, terrified people. A few people crossed the street at his sight. He was pretty sure someone actually passed out - but he didn’t care. He’s been wrong this entire time, and as much as he hated being proven wrong… He felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He owed her an apology - though he wasn’t sure why does he feel this way.

The receptionist in the hotel seemed to be… Unbothered by his appearance.

“I’m here to visit someone.” he said, approaching the counter. “But I don’t know the room number… Care to help me out?”

“Halloween’s next month.” the young man said, looking at him impassively. “Cool costume though.”

“That’s… Not a costume.” he said, moving all three pairs of his arms. “Those are real.”

“Holy fuck.” the young man - named Brian - said, looking impressed. “You’re the real one. You’re Penguin.”

“That’s me, yes.” Oswald said calmly; it’s been a while since someone called him that. “Now, about my original question…”

“Can I get a picture?” the young man interrupted him excitedly. “My friends are gonna be so jealous I met the real deal Cobblepot.”

“Fine.” Oswald gave up with a sigh. “One picture.”

He took a selfie with an excited young man, making sure most of his limbs are visible.

“Now.” he said after giving Brian his phone back. “Focus, boy.”

“Right. Sorry.” the young man said. “You said… What did you say?”

“I said I’m here to visit someone, but don’t have their room number.” he said, lightly tapping at the counter with all thirty of his fingers. “Help me out?”

“Okay, I’ll help you, but only because you let me take that photo.” he said with a sigh, typing something on a nearby keyboard. “That’ll stay between us, yeah?”

“Of course.” he said, thinking of Archie. “I don’t drag my allies down.”

“...sure. So, who are we looking for?”

“Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen.” he said; he wished he still had normal face, he’d love to feel her name roll off his tongue.

“Oh, she’s not here tonight.” Brian said, looking up for the screen. “She went out clubbing. I think she mentioned the Waterfront, you know-”

“I know.” he interrupted Brian hastily. “That place ran by Fish Mooney. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, she was heading out with that journalist from the Gazette and her wife and they talked about it.”

“Good at overhearing conversations, Brian?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Brian said with a shrug. “I’m not a creep, if that’s what you’re implying. I have a girlfriend.”

“Good for you and for her.” Oswald said, turning around. “Do give her my regards.”

As he was leaving, he heard Brian excitedly call someone named Sati; but that’s all he heard, because soon the night buzz drowned out everything happening in hotel’s hall.

***

The opening night at the Waterfront… Wasn’t going too great. Her company was nice, and the owner was most hospitable and charming and the place itself was tastefully decorated - but she simply wasn’t feeling it. Truth to be told, she hadn’t been feeling a lot of things since her awkward confession in Oswald’s kitchen; he rebuked her and she felt like not seeing him for some time might do both of them some good.

So she stopped her visits, at least for the time being; but he was on her mind surprisingly often - and the lack of closure was haunting. Nevertheless she tried to have a good time; her whole life couldn’t revolve around the monstrous Penguin of Gotham. She needed other people in her life as well. So she dressed up nicely, did her hair and makeup and was doing her best to have a good time; Misty and Esme were a charming couple and introduced her to their other friend - Louise - who was slowly preparing to take over district attorney’s duties now that Harvey Dent was elected mayor.

“Even with half his face missing, he still wants the best for Gotham.” Louise said with pure admiration in her voice, taking a sip of her drink. “He’s incredible.”

“Such a shame Cobblepot disfigured him.” Esme sighed and Charlie looked away; her friends weren’t aware of the time she spent in Oswald’s company, of her clumsy confession and even clumsier attempts at seduction. “Such a shame Batman hadn’t gotten to him faster…”

“Yeah.” Charlie muttered, trying to imagine what Harvey felt like, trying to imagine all the pain and shame Oswald caused him; but to no avail. “Real pity.”

Esme shot her a puzzled look, as if she heard something in her tone, a fake note, a coat of paint; but she didn’t say anything.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom - and as she walked she felt someone’s eyes on her. It wasn’t anything new, people looking at her as she walked - but at that point she knew when to expect trouble, and that look felt like trouble. She looked around, trying to figure out who’s staring - but to no avail.

She fixed her makeup and smoothened out the fabric of her black, pencil dress; and as she was walking back - someone cut her off.

Thomas Elliot. What a surprise; in Waterfront’s dim light he looked so much like Bruce Wayne it actually took her a moment to decide who is she looking at. The eyes helped - Bruce’s were kinder, warmer. His were more calculating and lifeless, and - at least that night - slightly hazy.

“Thomas!” she greeted him nervously. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Likewise.” he said; he sounded drunk. “Likewise.”

She didn’t pick the right clothes for self-defense. Her dress was restricting her movement, and her bra was wireless, so dramatically ripping a piece of wire out and stabbing him in the neck was out of question.

(She learned that trick from a very tired and very broken girl named Joan. She didn’t press for details; but Joan’s scars were telling a very ugly story, one of incomprehensible pain and nightmares. Joan was good at staying alive; and she taught Charlie some of her tricks.)

And she couldn’t even scream, as he covered her mouth with his hand; at least he didn’t want to kiss her. She was sure no amount of martinis or strawberry daiquiris would wash down the lingering aftertaste.

He was just about to kiss her neck, when he… Let her go. The hand covering her mouth was gone. She was free; and as she opened her eyes she saw Oswald, holding Thomas Elliot in an iron grip and covering his mouth, as the surgeon goggled in fear.

“Well.” she said shakingly, smoothing out her dress again. “It’s… Good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Oswald said calmly. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Call the cops on him, I guess.” she said with a feeble shrug. “I…”

“Wait, hold on.” he said; he briefly let Elliot go and promptly punched him, rendering him unconscious. The good doctor fell to the ground; and Oswald offered her his arm.

“Thanks.” she muttered, leaning against him, the terrifying reality of what nearly happened slowly sinking in. “I… Need to sit down.”

“Yeah.” he said softly, leading her back to her seat. “Sit down, I’ll get Fish… Her partner’s a cop. He can take care of this mess.”

“Can you get me some water as well?”

“Sure.”

(It wasn’t a first time something like this happened to her; but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. The powerlessness, the fear; those were not good feelings.)

Fish Mooney’s partner - a snarky, perpetually tired detective named Harvey Bullock - took care of Elliot and asked her a few questions; no, her drink wasn’t spiked. No, he never made advances before. Yes, she does want to press charges.

(She could swear she saw Bullock elbow Elliot in the ribs.)

Fish was very apologetic about the whole thing; as if it was her fault.

“It’s alright, really.” Charlie said. “You’re not to blame. You’re not a seer.”

“Ah, but I had him banned from the premises for a reason.” Fish said, shaking her head. “In any case do let me know if you need something, like… A witness. Wouldn’t be my first time lying in court, and you’re going to need all the help you can get to win against Elliot’s army of lawyers.”

“It’s a good thing she has the new district attorney on her side then.” Louise said, entering Fish’s office. “Lie all you want, Fish, as long as it helps. You have my blessing.”

“She doesn’t have to say a word though. I was there. I saw everything.” Oswald pointed out and Louise scoffed and crossed her arms on her chest, nervously avoiding looking at him; Charlie looked at them silently, wondering what might be the exact cause of apparent tension between them.

“You’re a felon.” Louise said finally, still not looking at him. “It’s your word against his, and Oswald… He wasn’t seen burning half of the mayoral candidate’s face.”

“At least look at me when you’re angry.” Oswald said tiredly. “Please, Louise. For old time’s sake.”

Louise finally looked at Oswald and she looked pained.

“You have to understand why I’m having a hard time looking at you.” she said quietly. “At least I don’t have to look you in the eye, I… Don’t think if I could take it. It’s enough I have to look him in the eye and pretend I have nothing to do with what happened.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before opening them again and looking at Fish again.

“Lie as much as you want, Fish.” she said calmly. “Just as long as it means Elliot’s off the board.”

“I’ll see if I can get to Ella.” Fish said immediately. “Loosen her tongue, get her talking…”

Charlie was feeling confused. Oswald touched her arm and she looked up, at his emotionless skull.

“Are you alright?” he asked and she nodded.

“I think I’ve had enough for tonight though.” she muttered, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. “I think… I should get back to the hotel. Lie down.”

“Good idea.” he said, helping her up. “Ladies, it’s been a real pleasure. I’ll make sure she makes it home in one piece.”

“Naturally.” Louise said, not looking up from Fish’s screen.

“Give Vicki my regards, Louise.” Oswald said quietly; Louise didn’t even budge, but Fish stopped them.

“Oswald…” she said and for a moment she looked so soft, so gentle.

“What is it, Fish?” Oswald asked; and she sighed.

“I missed you, Oswald.” Fish said. “Remember, you’re still my Oswald. Always will be… No matter what.”

“Thank you, Fish.” he said softly, his hand still on Charlie’s shoulder.

Once they were outside, Charlie looked at him.

“What was that all about?”

“Old wounds.” he said; his hands on her felt pleasant. “Long story. Not for tonight.”

“Fine.” she sighed. “Don’t tell me. Have your secrets.”

“I’ll tell you some other day.” he said as they were heading towards the exit. “We’ll have to walk. Can you walk?”

“I guess you can always carry me if my legs stop working.” she said with a faint smile; he didn’t reply. “Hey, Oswald?”

“Yes?”

They were slowly walking down the street, and people’s reactions… Left much to be desired.

“What brought you to the Waterfront anyway?”

It took him a while to answer.

“I was looking for you.” he said finally and her heart skipped a beat. “I wanted to talk to you, but I suppose… It can wait for another night.”

“No, it can’t.” she said immediately. “It can’t wait.”

“But you-”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I had something like this happen to me.” she interrupted him, shuddering. “I’ll take a shower and it’ll all be just an unpleasant memory. Trust me on this one.”

“Alright.” he said after a pause. “You know yourself best.”

“Exactly.” she said; they reached the hotel entrance and were standing on a sidewalk just outside. “So you’ll now come with me… Wait for me to take a shower… And then you’ll tell me what’s going on. Alright?”

He nodded hesitantly and she smiled and took one of his hands, squeezing lightly.

“Come on.” she said.

And she lead him inside, greeting the receptionist on their way to the elevator; he looked oddly happy at the sight of Oswald at her side. He was a sweet kid; maybe he simply was an empath. Who knows.

***

He wanted to tear Elliot’s limbs off when he saw them in that corridor. He wanted to hurt him badly, preferably lethally; but he didn’t, and limited himself to knocking the surgeon out.

(Everything depended on what she’d say. If she told him to hurt him, to maim, to kill - he would in a heartbeat. But she didn’t, and only looked at Elliot like he was a piece of rotten, moldy meat.)

She was alive and not hurt; that was all that mattered to him.

(That and the way Louise looked at him. Her ashamed, almost disgusted look hurt more than he’d admit it did; but she was right. She had every right to feel the way she did about what he did to her boss, to her friend. He should be grateful she even wanted to speak to him at all.)

Charlie took this whole thing… Shockingly, concerningly well; as if she was used to it. She shouldn’t be. No one should be. And she insisted on talking to him, even though he felt like it might wait, like what he has to say wasn’t of importance, compared to what she went through. But she insisted - and he couldn’t say no to her, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what does he want to tell her. His feelings were an enigma even for himself - but for her he felt something he almost forgot feeling, something he didn’t feel for Waylon or Archie or Pamela.

(He had no idea what is it, but at least he knew it’s mutual. That was a good start.)

So he entered the building with her; Brian was still behind the counter and he shot him a cheerful grin and it felt weird, seeing someone so happy to see him.

Her apartment was big and luxurious and well lit and nothing compared to his family home in its glory days; but he didn’t say anything, instead looking around in silence. Her clothes were everywhere; and on a nearby chair he could spot the same dress she wore when they first met.

“Make yourself at home.” she said, grabbing a few things. “I’ll be right back.”

She kicked her shoes off and he sighed quietly, watching her; even barefoot she was graceful. And the dress she wore fit her perfectly; simple, elegant.

“Oh! One more thing.” she said, walking up to him and turning around. “If you could please unzip this thing for me…”

She tilted her head slightly and he unzipped her dress carefully, on accident briefly brushing her skin with his fingertips; it sent shivers down his spine.

(Her skin was warm and smooth and he could see faint, red imprints her bra is going to leave once she takes it off.)

“Thanks.” she said, walking towards the bathroom door. “There’s some tea in the kitchen, and I think I have some donuts…”

“I’m good.” he said, his fingertips still burning from the memory of her skin. “Take that shower.”

“Yessir.” she said lightly and he watched as she disappeared in the bathroom; then he took of his coat, left it on a hanger and found those donuts she mentioned.

She left the bathroom in a bathrobe and he sighed quietly at the sight of her slightly flushed skin and freckles and pale lips.

She brushed her wet hair away from her face and looked at him and a half eaten donut in his hand.

“So.” she said, sitting on a couch and turning around to look at him. “What did you want to talk about?”

He decided to put all of his eggs in one basket.

“I talked to Waylon.” he said. “I… Told him those things you told me… To which he called me an idiot.”

“...oh?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I was sure you’re just mocking me.” he breathed out. “You wouldn’t be the first nor the last person to do it. I grew used to it, so I tried to… Brush it off. But it didn’t work, because you… You wouldn’t stop. And then you told me you could help if love was a spellbreaker… And things got fucked up.”

He was nervously mashing and crumbling the donut he was holding and Charlie looked at him with disbelief.

“You thought…” she said finally. “I’m mocking you?!”

“Well what was I supposed to think?!” he asked defensively, crossing one pair of arms on his chest. “You’re normal. And you were flirty. Of course I assumed the worst.”

“But I remember you from back when you still had a face!”

“There’s no reasoning with my crippling depression!” he said, almost angrily. “I overlooked everything, okay? Your intentions just… Went over my head.”

“Oh my god.” she said, covering her mouth. “That’s… Uhm.”

“No, don’t say anything.” he sighed. “I’m sorry I made everything about myself again.”

“I’m fine.” she assured him, still staring at him. “I’ve got a thick skin, Oswald. It’s an unpleasant experience… But I’ll live.”

She slowly got up from the couch and walked up to him; the donut turned into a pile of crumbles.

“I wasn’t mocking you, Oswald.” she said gently, reaching out to brush the surface of his skull with her fingers. “Everything I said… Was genuine.”

“I know.” he muttered, covering her hand with one of his own. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“That is true.” she agreed, still stroking his beak lovingly; he snickered. “You’re an idiot, but… You’re my idiot. Right?” she whispered and he took her into his arms and she felt so warm, so real, so alive.

He held her in his arms until she fell asleep, and was there when she started to cry in her sleep; he didn’t wake her up, he simply wiped the tears away and remained there, feeling the warmth of her body in his arms and mourning his face.

*** There was a young woman living in Gotham, one of many people the city had marked as its; the city marked her by drawing just a bit of her blood, and she left with a memory of the city’s prodigal son’s touch burned into her brain. There was a young woman living in Gotham - and she was in love with a monster and the monster loved her back.

Her reputation… Changed after what happened with Thomas Elliot; some people saw her as a liar and attention seeker - but some voiced their support. Some believed her.

(Other young women came forward to tell their own stories about Thomas. Gotham’s most respected surgeon committed his fair share of crimes; and behind everyone’s back Louise, Fish and Bullock were helping with unifying the confessions, creating a bulletproof case against Elliot.)

Among those who believed was Bruce Wayne; he voiced his support for her and all of Elliot’s other victims. He announced organizing a non-profit campaign to keep things like this from happening.

He was also not pleased about her relationship with Oswald, even though he was doing his best to keep it to himself; it was understandable. His relationship with Cobblepot was complicated, to say the least - lots of regrets and resentment and bitterness and bad blood on both ends. A childhood friendship that rot, a deep bond that was irreversibly damaged by sins of the father and what Oswald did to Harvey Dent; Charlie saw the photos, and watched some interviews with Gotham’s golden hearted mayor. He seemed and sounded like a good person, who genuinely cares about the wellbeing of his citizens, and especially the little ones, so often overlooked and cannibalized by the rich. He cared so much - and he wasn’t even trying to hide his scars. He beared them with pride.

She sometimes wanted to ask Oswald why did he do it; but every time she decided against it. He did what he did and there was no turning back time; there was no point in dwelling on what happened. Panta rhei and all that crap.

“Your taste in people is… Surprising.” Bruce told her one evening. “Not to sound like a judgemental prick, but…”

“But you’re going to power through it anyway.” she said calmly, taking a sip of her tea. “Come on, Bruce. Me and Oswald… We’re two separate people.”

“Yes, but he did try to destroy my life.” Bruce pointed out calmly; they were in Wayne Manor and he wanted to discuss the details of her involvement in his campaign. “You surely understand my point of view.”

“I do, but the dick measuring contest between you and Oswald is none of my concern.” she said equally calmly. “I’m not his spy in your life.”

“I wasn’t suggesting-”

“He doesn’t want to see you, Bruce.” she interrupted him. “At all. Ever.”

Heavy silence fell in the room, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock and faint sounds of Alfred’s footsteps in the distance.

“It’s understandable.” Bruce said finally. “I remind him of everything he lost… Even though it was hardly my fault.” he sighed. “But I can’t help feeling guilty. Like… He almost has a point. Almost.”

She looked away. Right; Dent was his friend as well - and it couldn’t possibly be easy, seeing his childhood friend nearly murder his current one. She felt more sorry for Bruce than she wanted to; it went against everything she felt for Oswald - but she couldn’t help it.

“Oh, before I almost forgot!” Bruce said as she was leaving. “Harv would like to speak with you.”

She froze in place, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“You mean… The mayor?” she made sure. “What does the mayor of Gotham want from me? What did I do?”

“...nothing?” Bruce said awkwardly. “He’s just… Curious about you. He knows about you and Oswald. I… Might have told him.”

“I’m trying to imagine what sort of conversation were you two having that involved my relationship with Oswald.” she sighed. “Are you two talking about him… Often?”

“More often than we probably should.” Bruce admitted anxiously. “You surely understand… Oswald did impact Harvey.”

“That’s a very nice way of putting it.” she said calmly. “But what’s the catch, Bruce? Are you helping him get his revenge?”

“Harvey’s not a vengeful type.” Bruce said. “He’s just curious, that’s all. Also he probably wants to squeeze a future vote out of you, or something. Give him a chance.”

“I’ll… Consider it.” she said carefully. “So far the answer is no. I have a lot on my plate as it is. But… I’ll think about it.”

“I suppose that’s a good enough answer.” Bruce said with a shrug. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Of course.” she said softly. “Take care, Bruce.”

She never told Oswald of Dent’s offer - why would she? She was a separate person, entitled to her private life; everything was dandy, as long as she wasn’t plotting against him - and she would never do that.

Oswald was particularly mopey that evening; he was quiet and absent minded.

“Am I being too much?” she asked him, handing him a piece of ginger. “Should we take a break?”

“No, no.” he muttered, grating the plant. “It’s… Not you.”

Somehow she didn’t believe him.

“Really?” she asked. “God, Oswald, you’re a terrible liar. What did I do?”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” he said. “I… Keep thinking about what you said when we first met. About you wanting a… Reprise.”

“Oh, I already love the direction this conversation is taking.” she said playfully, sitting on the kitchen table. “It was… Quite some time ago though.”

“Well, did you change your mind?” he asked, for a moment pausing everything he was doing and she tilted her head.

Even though she spent many nights in his home, many nights in his bed - they never did anything except for cuddling. Sure, it was nice, being hugged by someone with six strong arms - but it just wasn’t enough. She couldn’t help but wonder about the possible use of his additional hands - actually she had a very vivid image painted in her brain, one that haunted her when she was alone and only had her thoughts for company.

“No.” she said eventually. “I didn’t. I still think your current form is… Kind of hot, actually.”

“Even though I have no face?” he asked, his back still turned to her. “No mouth? No tongue?”

“You have six arms, Oswald. I’d say anything more would be an overkill.” she said jokingly, even though she did miss the possibility of kissing him, of him putting his lips on her skin and of seeing his obnoxious, infuriating smirk. “Also, I like gothic horrors. A guy with a bird skull in place of a head? None more goth. Just add some candles and red silk and voila! The perfect fantasy… That only one person on Earth will be lucky enough to experience in reality.” she finished with a giggle. “Because it is going to happen, right?”

“Mmm.” he said, putting the pile of grated ginger away. “Maybe. If you’ll be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” she said, throwing a zucchini at him; he caught it without turning around.

“By the way, Waylon’s dropping by tonight.” he said and she scoffed; of course. He had to build her hopes up, just to ruin everything with a single sentence. “June Moone’s back in town. She wants to see you.”

“Why?” she asked, thinking back to her conversation with Bruce. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. She’s just curious, that’s all. Waylon says she wasn’t expecting anyone like you to ever happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone who’d look at me and think hell yeah.” he said very seriously and she laughed.

“Wait, hold on, I have a perfect, pretentious quote for the occasion.” she said, making the most inspired face she could come up with and putting one hand on her heart; after a moment she got off the table and stood there, staring at a ceiling. “You ready?”

“Try me.” he said, turning around.

“When is monster not a monster?” she recited and he snorted. “Oh, when you love it.”

“That was so beautifully pretentious, I’d cry if I could.” he said, shaking his head. “Bravo.”

“So.” she said, sitting on the table again. “Should I… Stay the night?”

“Mmmmhm.” he said, taking care of the zucchini. “Stay the night.”

The evening was nice, even if it went on for what felt like an infinity; June was a serious - but very pleasant - woman; and watching Waylon who obviously was in love with her suddenly try and act like a gentleman was… Not exactly amusing, no; endearing. She tried to imagine how and when did this petite, rather inconspicuous woman met this hulking mass of scales and muscles - but to no avail. But it didn’t matter - some stories simply weren’t meant to be told. Some things were just meant to be; and looking at June and Waylon she felt warm.

(June looked at Waylon lovingly and she knew this look; it was the same way she was looking at Oswald. She knew. She caught a glimpse of this look in the mirror one day.)

“I’m glad Oswald found someone willing to overlook his form.” June said, looking at her attentively. “It’s a rare and beautiful thing, for a Gotham monster to fall in love and be loved back.”

“People can be monsters regardless of shape.” Charlie replied softly, thinking about Harry, about Thomas Elliot, about men who took everything from Oswald. “And love can and will flourish under any and all circumstances.”

“So, you’re a poet.” the enchantress said, nodding.

“No, I’m just a sap.” Charlie said, winking. “I spent so much time bottling it all up I now can’t help but embarrass myself at any given occasion. Part of my charm, I guess.”

“Irresistible charm.” Oswald said and she giggled and blushed and Waylon rolled his eyes, as if he was any better.

During the evening, she was tempted to ask June about the condition Oswald must meet in order to reverse the curse; but she never got a chance, as they were never alone. Plus she hesitated a bit - it was none of her business anyway; Oswald did seem mostly at peace with his new form. And who was she to change that?

But finally - they were left alone - and he didn’t make a move.

(Neither did she, to be fair; she limited herself to glancing at him from time to time and brushing his hands with her fingertips as she handed him things.)

“You know, that’s not nice.” she said, leaving the bathroom with her hair still slightly wet and the fabric of her shirt sticking to her body. “Come on, Oswald, sweep me off my feet. I did my waiting. Or just tell me if you’re not into it. Stop leading me on, dammit.”

“That was an impressive speech.” he said from the kitchen. “Did you have it ready just in case?”

“Oswald!” she whined, shuffling in the direction of his voice. “I’m serious.”

“And I’m not.” he said; he was staring out of the kitchen window, with his back turned to her. “Hey. Remember how you call me an idiot?”

“More than once.” she said, already feeling like she knows exactly where is it going.

She sat on the kitchen table; he turned around.

“I’m not good at picking up subtle clues and hints, it seems.” he said provocatively and she scoffed. “What? You made your own bed, now lie in it.”

“Oh, I’d love to.” she said, tilting her head. “What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Just be honest. And maybe… Ask if you want something from me.”

“Hm.” she muttered with a theatrical sigh. “I suppose… You could carry me, and I could… Tell you what I want on our way there. Very quietly… So quietly you’d have to shut up in order to hear it.”

“Are you suddenly feeling coy, Charlie?” he asked; he walked up to the table and was leaning in slightly, with two pairs of hands resting on the surface right next to her thighs and the other two folded behind his back.

“Maybe.” she said innocently, playing with his tie. “Come on, Oswald. Don’t be an ass.”

“Being an asshole is my defining personality trait.” he said, suddenly picking her up; she squealed as he threw her over his shoulder. “I’m a monster, after all. Didn’t happen without a reason.”

(His hand was on her ass and she squirmed slightly.)

“Good.” she said breathlessly as he unceremoniously threw her onto a bed - but not without making sure she didn’t hit anything with her head. “Be a monster.”

“Oh, I’m going to.” he whispered, his beak only a few inches away from her face; she giggled and showered it in light kisses as his hands found their way under her shirt.

Oh, he was a monster - but he was her monster, and she gazed at him lovingly with her eyes half-closed as he was holding her wrists and as he pinched her nipples and played with her hair and his fingers were inside of her; he was her monster and she loved him and every single one of his six hands.

(Even though she did miss the sensation of his lips on her skin and his stubble and his obnoxious winks and smirks.)

“Ah, ah, ah.” he said eventually, withdrawing that of his hands she was most focused on. “Not so fast, Charlie.”

“You ass.” she muttered, writhing. “Get back here and finish the job!”

“Can I bite your neck?” he asked, ignoring her; his thumbs on her breasts were very distracting. “Lightly. Since I can’t kiss you…”

“Alright…” she said, slightly taken aback. “Just be careful, I don’t want you to decapitateeeoooohmygod.”

His - definitely not human - teeth on her skin felt good; a bit like a sturdy hairbrush.

“Mmmmoh my god.” she muttered with her eyes closed. “Do it again.”

“No.” he said softly, brushing her neck with his fingertips. “I almost bit too hard. It’s dangerous.”

“Then at least put your hand back.” she muttered and he snickered, lightly brushing the inner side of her thigh with his fingertips.

“I have a better idea.” he said quietly, letting go of her wrists. “Come on. Sit up.”

“Mmmm.” she muttered, sitting up. “What? Is this the scene where I see what the curse did to your thing and weep?”

He was untying his tie, but paused; same with unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh my god.” he said finally as she sat there. “I never told you, did I?”

“No?” she said hesitantly. “What is it?”

And then he showed her what the curse did to his dick; it used to be a normal organ, about average in size (but on the plus side) and with a pierced tip - but not anymore. What Charlie was looking at looked more like a tentacle; long and with very intriguing texture covered in - seemingly randomly placed - bumps.

And to top it all off - it was feathery.

“Holy shit.” Charlie said, utterly fascinated. “This is… Wow.”

“It’s awful, I know.” Oswald muttered and she scoffed.

“Are you kidding?! People pay hundreds of dollars to get toys like what you have in your pants. Can I touch it?” she asked suddenly.

“You mean… You aren’t repulsed?” he said as she stroked - carefully, than more firmly - his member. “Aaa. You’re not.” he breathed out and she giggled. “So that’s how it feels when someone else touches it. The more you know.”

“You mean… You never banged anyone in this form?” she asked, not able to take her eyes off him. “I can’t believe it.”

“How so?”

“There are entire communities of people who want to fuck monsters!” she said. “I… Might have spent some time online on that topic. I’m adventurous, remember.”

“You filthy monster fucker.” he muttered and she laughed and pulled him closer, kissing his - still human, still warm - neck.

People were paying hundreds of dollars for a pathetic imitation of what she was experiencing in reality; no silicone dildo could match against what the curse did to Oswald. And as she gasped and moaned and as his inhumane teeth were on her neck again, nearly drawing blood, nearly puncturing the sensitive skin - she felt like the luckiest damn girl in Solar System.

(She was sure she saw colors invisible to the human eye.)

***

Her enthusiasm towards his - not very pretty - body was… Surprising. And endearing, especially the way her eyes lit up; almost as if she looking at something actually beautiful. Oh, the way she looked at him - no one had looked at him like this in years; so lovingly, so tenderly, as if he was the most beautiful creature on Earth. And as she moaned and writhed under his touch and pulled him closer, as she looked at him, as she wrapped her legs around him and as she tilted her head and as he bit her neck again, against his better judgement; he felt loved.

(His one regret was waiting for so long.)

The Bat paid him - or rather them, considering Charlie practically moved in with him, her hotel room more and more empty and a guest bedroom in his grim estate more and more filled with her clothes and laughter - a visit the same night.

He had an odd relationship with Batman; they used to be enemies, even despite all the respect Oswald felt for the caped crusader - but after he got turned, after he got punished… Batman simply stopped his attempts at kicking Oswald’s ass. He seemed concerned, apologetic even; almost as if he had something to do with Oswald’s new form.

(There was never any doubt the Bat and Gotham share a bond unlike any other; city’s grim protector seemed to live and breathe in the rhythm of the city, he seemed to have it in his blood. Who knows - maybe he simply was an embodiment of Gotham’s soul, a manifestation of its innate darkness.)

He bumped into Batman as he was leaving the kitchen; Charlie was fast asleep and whined a bit as he was sneaking out of bed to quench his thirst.

“You should be honest with her.” he said grimly, nearly making Oswald choke on his water. “She cares about you more than anyone else.”

“Bloody hell, Bat!” Oswald panted out. “One of these nights you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“You’ll be fine.” Batman disregarded his words. “But you should be honest. You should tell her close you are to regaining your previous appearance.”

“Oh, but I am not close.” Oswald said nonchalantly. “Besides… How would you know? I thought you can’t bear to look him in the eye, not to mention talk to him. Remember… What happened to him is also your fault.”

“You smashed that lamp on his face, Oswald.” Batman said tiredly. “I made a split-second decision… But it was you who created that entire situation. If it wasn’t for you-”

“If it wasn’t for me, Harvey Dent would still be pretty.” he interrupted him. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But he’s not. And neither am I. So… We’re even.”

“Except he came to terms with it.” Batman said calmly. “Which is way more than what can be said about you.”

“Look.” Oswald said, trying to remain calm. “I have a role to play. So I’m doing just that. All the world’s a stage, and I’m just following a script. Maybe I should stay this way. For good.”

(Oh, the way she looked at him.)

“This is not how the story goes.” Batman said and Oswald tilted his head. “Tale as old as time, of crime and punishment… And no punishment is eternal.”

“Stop trying to coax me into facing Dent, Bats.” Oswald said, wagging his finger at him. “Not gonna happen.”

“We’ll see about that, Oswald.” Batman said grimly, looking in the general direction of Oswald’s bedroom, where Charlie was sleeping in his bed. “She’s waking up.”

“Then you should leave, Bats.” Oswald said calmly, not taking his eyes off him. “Leave and don’t come back. I’m doing just fine the way I am.”

He blinked, and Batman was gone; and Charlie was standing in the doorway, naked, her hair a mess, covering her breasts with her hands, staring at him sleepily.

“Who were you talking to?” she muttered.

“Myself.” he lied again. “Go back to bed, I’ll be right with you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Oswald.” she said sleepily, pouring herself a glass of water and taking a single sip before setting it down. “And come on, I’m cold.”

“You wouldn’t be cold if you returned to bed. You have two blankets.”

“Mmm.” she muttered. “Come on.”

He gave up and followed her; she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and he sighed, pulling the blanket over her, lest she’d catch a cold. She only muttered something and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer; and as he laid there, absentmindedly playing with her hair he tried to not think about what Batman told him. About him being close to reversing the spell Gotham put on him.

(He used to crave his old form, but… Not anymore. Oh, how she looked at him…)

*** Batman didn’t give her much choice; he cornered her in her hotel room, few weeks after her first time with Oswald and two days after the initial trial of Thomas Elliot - a rapist.

(Looking at surgeon’s face she wondered how come Gotham never put a spell on him; if anyone deserved it, it was him - or maybe it did put a spell on him. Maybe she was the spell, a mean to bring his undoing.)

It was going well; the jury seemed to be on the side of the victims. Oswald’s testimony caused a stir in the press - it was his first public appearance in months - but in general, things were going well. She didn’t talk with Louise about Oswald; it was obvious he’s a very sensitive topic. There was no point to dwell on it; his ruined friendships weren’t hers to bear.

And her relationship with Oswald was also going well; once he overcame his body image problems… She felt like she wouldn’t have anything against spending rest of her life in his bed, actually. Or on the kitchen table. Or on the piano in the library. Sure, she missed his nimble tongue and his smile - but he had six hands. And a dick that looked as if designed by a seasoned Bad Dragon veteran. She could live without him going down on her or kissing her neck; it was a small price to pay for a partner who could hold her in place and tease her at the same time, effortlessly.

She was slowly getting used to effectively living two lives; one among her friends and one among Oswald’s. She’d go out for drinks with her girls; and she’d accompany Oswald to a poker night with his fellow deformed Gothamites.

(He wasn’t half as lonely as he claimed he is; but she didn’t hold it against him. He had a penchant for theatrics and a dramatic flair; of course he exaggerated.)

They weren’t all nice and pleasant; they were a physical manifestation of Gotham’s dark side. Waylon called them a scar on humanity’s face; and he wasn’t all wrong. He was right about many things - weather, Dent being better for Gotham than Hill ever was, structuralism being the key to understanding. Those sorts of things. Oswald’s scaly friend was way smarter than he wanted the world to believe; he wanted to be underestimated. Gave him an element of surprise.

Things were going well - and then Batman showed up and cornered her as she was leaving the bathroom in her pajamas and a fluffy, pink bathrobe, drying her hair with a towel.

He nearly gave her a heart attack.

“Aah! Jesus!” she shouted, dropping the towel instantly. “Batman?!”

“Yes.” he grumbled out, standing in her well lit apartment; his voice sounded vaguely familiar and the cogs in her brain moved and she connected the dots.

“Of course.” she sighed. “You’re the person Oswald was talking to every time he claimed he was just talking to himself. Right? It was you, all along…”

“Correct.” he said, watching her closely. “He’s a liar, isn’t he? Penguin’s a liar.”

“He doesn’t like to be called that.” she said carefully. “Not anymore.”

“You care about him.” Batman said flatly. “It was a test. You passed.”

“...thanks?” she said hesitantly, wondering what is going on. “Look, Batman, if you don’t mind me asking… Why are you here? To check if I’m cheating on Oswald?”

“I already know the answer is no.” he said seriously and she winced. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time. I know about all the lies in the Elliot case.”

“The end justifies the means.” she said carefully. “And… It’s not all lies. We just had to smooth some things out, that’s all.”

“I’m not arguing with that.” Batman said. “He’ll rot in jail. That’s what he deserves.”

“But the question remains… To what do I owe the pleasure? If it’s not about what’s happening behind the scenes of the Elliot trial… What do you want from me?”

“It’s not about what I want, Charlotte.” he said and she winced at the sound of her full name. “It’s about what you deserve. Which is… Truth.”

“What?” she asked faintly. “Truth about what exactly?”

“About Cobblepot’s curse.” he said grimly. “I know he never told you how to reverse it… But I know. I’ve known all along.”

“But I love him!” she said the first thing that came to mind; and Batman sighed.

“Your love doesn’t change anything, Charlotte. The curse is still a curse.”

“But it does change things! It makes him feel loved.” she muttered. “Content. At ease.”

“Which is very moving.” he said flatly. “But let’s get back to the point. Do you know why did he get changed in the first place?”

“Because he fucked up Dent’s face.” she sighed. “He was innocent and good, and yet he got hurt… Badly.”

“Correct.” Batman confirmed. “But, like with every curse… There’s a way to reverse it. Did he tell you?”

“No.” she muttered. “I wanted to ask June about it, but there was no occasion… And now she’s out of Gotham again.”

“He has to be forgiven.” Batman said calmly and she blinked. “That’s it. He simply… Has to be forgiven.”

“Right.” she said slowly. “But why are you telling me this?”

“Because he told me he doesn’t want to turn back.” Batman said and she tilted her head. “Which may lead to him spilling innocent blood again, just to avoid forgiveness, just to stay… The way he is now.”

“But he won’t.” she said faintly. “He won’t. I won’t let him.”

“Which would be good to hear, if this was what I’m about to ask. But no. It’s not enough. I need you to make him face Dent. I need you to make him hear he’s forgiven.”

“But why?” she asked; her head was fuzzy and she was so, so confused. “It doesn’t make sense, Bat. Why force him to change if he likes his current form?”

“It’s simple.” Batman said. “He’s a cautionary tale, one that needs a conclusion.”

“Well, wouldn’t staying like this forever be a good enough conclusion?”

“It’s a story of redemption and forgiveness as well as punishment.”

“Then make it into a story about stubbornness!”

“I didn’t make myself clear.” he said quietly, threateningly. “It wasn’t a request. You’re going to make him face Dent. You’re going to make him get his forgiveness. You’re going to make him turn back.”

“Or?” she asked, feeling feisty; but Batman quickly put a damper on her anger.

“Or I’ll make him believe you’re only using him for his form.” he said. “That it doesn’t matter who he is, but how many arms he has. And he’ll believe my every word.”

“But it’s not true.” she said faintly.

“He doesn’t know it.” Batman said dryly. “But your marital spats are none of my concern. What is my business… Is order. And this story must end a certain way.”

“Sure.” she said faintly. “Sure. I’ll… Think of something. Now just… Please. Leave me alone.”

“Do I have your word, Charlotte?”

“Yes!” she said impatiently, feeling an incoming breakdown. “Now please. Leave or I’ll use your cape as a tissue.”

She broke into angry, frustrated tears as soon as he disappeared. She had no idea of knowing Oswald feels the way he does - he never told her. She simply assumed he really came to terms with his new form. Batman implied Oswald believes his form is the only thing keeping Charlie at his side; which wasn’t true. At all. The sex was amazing, yes - but so was simply waking up next to him and spending time with him.

She called Bruce Wayne the following morning.

“I changed my mind.” she said instead of a greeting. “I want to see the mayor.”

“O...kay.” he said, sounding slightly confused. “Is… Everything alright? On your side?”

“Yeah.” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Of course it is. Everything’s dandy.”

“Sure.” he said after a brief pause. “I’ll… Let Harv know, we’ll arrange something…”

“Thanks.” she muttered; as her phone beeped she stared into her ceiling, not moving from her bed.

“I hope you’re happy.” she said bitterly. “I really, genuinely hope you’re happy.”

Luckily the Bat didn’t answer; she felt as if the answer would be no anyway. He didn’t seem like a person capable of happiness.

***

The mayor took her the same day, in the late afternoon; it was rainy outside when his - peppy, cheerful - secretary, a beautiful young woman, let her in; he was looking out the window when she entered, standing in front of the massive glass surface with his back to her and his hands in his pockets.

“Mister mayor…” she said hesitantly, as the secretary closed the door behind her. “Good afternoon.”

Harvey Dent turned around and she sighed quietly at the sight of his face, at the sight of what Oswald did to him; but the mayor didn’t seem to mind, smiling brightly and walking up to her.

“Miss Schiller-Aberdeen!” he said with enthusiasm, shaking her hand. “We finally meet.”

Eventually he noticed her gaze and sighed, touching the scarred tissue with his hand; he looked way better than on archival photos and videos. He underwent several surgeries, fixing his eye and mouth - but the damage, the burn marks, the scars were all visible.

“I know it’s not pretty.” he said, looking her in the eye. “But I’m not going to cover it up. I can’t say I wear it with pride, but… It’s a sign of what it costed me to become the mayor. Will probably come in handy during the next election!” he finished with a chuckle and she smiled nervously, thinking about how her heart was beating for the man who disfigured Harvey Dent for life.

He pulled out a chair for her; and on his desk she noticed several pill bottles. Painkillers, quetiapine, hydroxyzine, alprazolam; a wide selection of drugs that were making thoughts hazy and speech slurry.

Once again he noticed her gaze.

“Prescribed by my psychiatrist.” he said casually, sitting on the edge of his desk, his hands in his pockets again. “My physical disfigurement came with some additional baggage. I’m lucky I’m in good hands.... Even though my surgeon is on his way to prison as we speak.” he added and she looked away; of course he was a patient of Elliot. He was only taking care of the select few; seemed natural the mayor of Gotham was on the list.

“Don’t get me wrong.” Dent said after seeing her expression. “He deserves it. What he did is… Unforgivable.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath; his hands were shaking slightly.

“Are you alright?” Charlie asked, feeling concerned. “Do you need me to call someone?”

“No, no.” he muttered, opening his eyes again and giving her a tired smile. “I’m working on controlling my impulses. Additional baggage.”

“I see.” she said awkwardly, crossing her legs. “Now, as to why I’m here…”

“It’s about P…. Oswald Cobblepot.” he interrupted her. “Right? It’s about him.”

“At least on my end, yes.” she said carefully. “Bruce never told me what did you want to talk about, he only said-”

“That I’m curious.” he interrupted her again. “About what sort of person would elope with someone like him.”

There was no hatred in his voice as he talked about Oswald, no anger; probably a good sign.

“A very specific kind of person.” she said softly and he looked at her, smiling faintly. “You and I, we… Have very different experiences with Oswald.”

“Well, I’m almost glad to hear it.” he said. “It’d be concerning to say the least if yours was similar to mine.”

“Do you hate him, mister mayor?” she asked, deciding to not play cat and mouse.

He sighed, looking away. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. Finally, he looked at her again.

“No.” he said. “Not anymore. Hatred’s not good for anyone, and especially not for me. What he did to me… Anyone else would have the full right to hate him for what he did. I, however, chose to not hate him. It’s a choice I make every day.”

“Most admirable.” she said, thinking about how the world would be a much better place if more people were like this; how at least one person would still be alive if she was capable of making this decision, of forgiveness. “Mister mayor, are you aware of the fact your forgiveness is needed to break the curse?”

“No.” he said surprised. “Of course I’m not, no one ever told me.”

“Not even Batman?”

“I hadn’t seen him since the debate.” Harvey said mournfully. “I tried teaming up with Gordon to trick him into showing up, but… To no avail. It’s like he doesn’t want to see me.”

“Oh.” she said, trying to connect the dots. “That’s… Puzzling.”

“Yes, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out… Eventually.” he said with a sigh. “Now, back to what you just told me. I’m the spellbreaker?”

“Mmmhm. And I think… Oswald could use your forgiveness.” she said, feeling as if she just betrayed Oswald. “What do you think?”

“Well, I did come to terms with what he did to me.” Harvey said hesitantly. “Which renders his punishment… Meaningless. It made sense as long as we were both suffering, but… I’m not, not anymore. The scales of justice are tipped now.”

“That’s good to hear.” she said with a heavy heart. “Now, this will require a little deception, but nothing illegal. It’ll all be on me anyway.” she added with a sigh and Dent tilted his head.

“Go on.”

She shot him a faint, forced smile and carefully laid out her plan, her deception.

***

One month later she announced they’re going out.

“We are?” Oswald asked mournfully; he wasn’t too fond of public appearances, even despite seemingly coming to terms with his new form.

“Come on, Oswald.” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “Fresh air won’t kill you. It’s for your own good.”

“My mother would say the same thing when I didn’t want to eat my broccoli, and look at me now.” he said. “Eating broccoli was supposed to be good for me as well. Didn’t work.”

“Yes, but I’m not your mother.” she said. “And I do have some cards up my sleeve.”

“Don’t say it.” he pleaded as she winked at him. “No, not my only weakness!”

“Pretty please, Oswald!” she said, folding her hands. “Pretty, pretty please!”

“Christ, woman.” he grumbled, pulling her closer. “Fine, just… Not tonight. Tomorrow?”

“I was about to suggest the same thing.” she said, untangling herself from his mass of limbs and reaching for her phone; she had to let Dent know to be ready. “But I swear, if you’ll break your promise-”

“I won’t.” he interrupted her, putting a hand on his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“I didn’t know you were a scout.”

“That’s because I wasn’t. Which probably means… I have no honor.” he added and she laughed. “I’m an honourless man, but I will keep my word. Now, as to your lack of honor…”

“Hold on!” she said. “I gotta text one person.”

“Really?” he asked as she typed her message. “A monster is making a move on you, and texting is more important? That’s hurtful, Charlie. I’m hurt.”

“Save some of that hurt for later.” she muttered, hitting send. “Done! All yours.”

He pulled her closer again and she kissed his beak, thinking about how this is last night like this; he didn’t the next evening he’d be back to normal.

But soon her mind was busy with something else, as he put a giant mirror to use; and with his hand between her legs and her her arms in his iron grip and a hand covering her mouth she closed her eyes and gave in to his touch.

Eventually the fateful evening came; everything was in motion and Harvey Dent was en route and Oswald was grumpy.

“You promised.” she reminded him, fixing his tie; two of his hands were in his pockets, two behind his back and two in her hair, as he was playing with them lazily, stroking her skin with his fingertips occasionally.

“I know.” he sighed as she covered his hand with her own and closed her eyes for a moment, placing a gentle kiss on his warm skin. “I’m not saying I’m not going, I’m just… Dramatic.”

“That’s true.” she said as he pulled her hair gently. “Hey! Keep your hands to yourself.”

“But I am.” he said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger. “Circa sixty seven percent of them, to be precise.”

“You are unbearable.” she muttered, taking a step back. “There. All done. Now come on.”

Archie was waiting outside in a car; he was in on her secret plan, as she had a feeling lifting Oswald’s curse will set him free as well.

“So where are we going?” Oswald asked as they drove through the streets. “The docks? Need someone taken care of, Charlie? I have six arms… I can tear someone else’s limbs off easily. Or choke six people at once. Or-”

“We’re not going to the docks.” she interrupted him. “Keep… Your murderous instincts for yourself. Please.”

“I was just joking.” he said quietly. “Even though for you… I’d be willing to turn those jokes into reality.”

“I know, which is precisely what I don’t want you to do. Don’t spill blood in my name, Oswald. The consequences are not worth it.”

“Oh, but they are.” he assured her, taking her hand. “They are.”

“We’re here.” Archie said eventually, looking at them in the rear window. “Cobblepot Park.”

“Why did you drive me here of all places, Charlie?” Oswald asked, getting out of the car. “Hey. Something’s… Different.”

“It’s clean.” she said quietly, walking besides him. “It’s nothing special, since there wasn’t a lot of time, but… Some fresh paint, new alleys, some experienced gardeners… And voila.”

“It looks way better than it did when I first came to Gotham.” he said, looking around. “Not perfect, but… A lot better. Did you fund it?”

“You could say that, yes.” she said; that was part of the plan - she was the bank and Dent was the operator. He happily obliged, saying he’s been thinking to do something about the once beautiful park anyway.

When she looked up, the sky was clear; no sign of Bat-Signal among the stars. She wondered if the Bat is watching from the shadows, if he’s satisfied.

“But why?” he asked, looking at his father’s bust. “Hey, meet my dad. Think he’d be proud of me? Everything I did… I did for him and mom.”

Harvey Dent stepped out from the shadows behind Oswald, as the deformed criminal was staring his father in the eye; he quietly stood next to Charlie who shot him a nervous look.

“Mister Cobblepot.” he said as Oswald turned around. “It’s been a while.”

“Well I’ll be damned, if it isn’t mister mayor!” Oswald said dryly. “My goodness. You look awful.”

“Oswald…” Charlie said, but was ignored.

“You won’t get a reaction from me, mister Cobblepot.” Dent said calmly. “Not anymore. I’m way better now, hell, I’m almost… Fine.”

“...don’t.” Oswald said suddenly, and Charlie felt as if he’d turn pale if he still had a face. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

“But why?” Dent asked, and Charlie looked at Oswald; he was shaking.

“It’s none of your business, mayor!” Oswald snapped. He grabbed Charlie and pulled her along, walking towards the exit; and she let him, shooting Dent an anxious look.

“I don’t know what game are you playing, Charlie…” Oswald said angrily. “But I’m going to-”

“Cobblepot, I forgive you.” Harvey said finally and Oswald froze in place. “I forgive you. You are forgiven.”

“No…” Oswald muttered, letting go of Charlie. “No!”

He dropped onto his knees and screamed as the curse was lifted and his body was turning back to normal; his additional limbs gone, his head - normal again. He ripped his mask off and threw it onto the ground, pulling his hair desperately.

“No, no, no…” he repeated frantically. “No!”

“You should leave.” Charlie whispered to the - visibly disoriented - mayor. “Thank you. But… You should leave.”

“Let me know how this thing develops.” he whispered back. “Take care, miss Schiller-Aberdeen.”

Once he was gone, Charlie knelt next to a sobbing Oswald.

“Oswald…” she said softly, carefully putting a hand on his arm. “Look at me.”

He looked at her with his eyes red and puffy and her heart broke a bit at the sight of this face she missed so much; his narrow lips were parted in a sob and his piercing eyes were full of tears. He looked absolutely miserable.

“I’m going to fix it.” he muttered, getting back up; his legs were shaking and he nearly fell down. “I’m going… To get Gotham to curse me again.”

“But why?” she asked, feeling hopeless; she got up as well and her knees were green from the grass, but it didn’t matter. “Why do you want to be a monster?”

“Because I wasn’t alone!” he yelled. “As a monster I wasn’t alone! I had Waylon and Pam and you! Now everyone’s going to leave - again!”

“No one is going to leave you!” she said, not believing her ears. “And especially not me!”

“But I only have two arms again, Charlie. I’m human again.”

“...did you really think I’m this shallow?” she asked; she couldn’t believe Batman was so right.

“It’s not about you being shallow, it’s about me not having anything to offer like this.” he said almost tearfully. “I’m a broke ex-con, a killer and a thief! The only thing I’ve got is a pretty face. and since you’re not into that… I might as well have nothing.”

“It’s not true, Oswald.” she said softly, her heart shattered. “I’m not going to leave you. If it makes you feel any better… You’re still a monster. Just… Not physically.”

“That was harsh, Charlie.” he said, smiling faintly. “Are you sure? Now that I’m nothing special?”

“You are special, Oswald.” she said firmly. “One of a kind. And I love you. And if you’re so concerned about your limitations… We can always try out bondage.” she said with a playful grin and he laughed. “And toys. And the mask’s still here. But all of this is obsolete. We’ve met back when you still looked human, remember? And I had nothing to complain about.”

“But what about the others?” he asked as they were walking to Archie’s car. “Waylon and Pam… I was one of them. Now… Not anymore.”

“You’re still their friend, Oswald.” she assured him, even though she had those doubts herself. “They’ll understand.”

“Here’s to hoping.” he said with a sigh.

They were standing just outside the gate, and Archibald was standing nearby, smoking; Oswald was holding his mask and turning it in his hands, staring at it.

“I’m not going to put it on again for a long time.” he said finally. “But I’ll keep it.”

He looked at Charlie and his eyes lit up, as if he realized something.

“I can kiss you.” he said. “I can finally kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” she breathed out and Oswald dropped the mask again and pulled her closer; and sure, he only had two arms now - but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the kiss she’s been yearning for.

“Are you guys done?” Archie asked, disgruntled. “I want to go home.”

“Archie!” Oswald breathed out. “Are you free now, Archie?”

“I… Probably am.” Archie said slowly. “Shit, boss, I almost forgot how ugly your mug is. Truly a sight for sore eyes. Does it mean I can tell you to fuck off?”

“...probably.” Oswald said carefully and Archie’s usually serious face lit up.

“Come on. Ask me something.”

“Can you… Take us home, Archie?”

“FUCK NO.” Archibald said firmly and with great joy. “Oh my god, I can finally say no to you.”

“Your happiness is truly endearing, though if you could take us home…”

“...sure.”

***

Being human again wasn’t so bad, even if it was unexpected; hell, it was kind of nice, once the initial shock had passed.

(For a moment in the park he was sure it’s all over; that he’s alone and worthless again, now that his curse had been lifted.)

But at least he had a face again - and guessing from the way Charlie stared at him his face was still beautiful.

(What? Narcissus remained the only person in history killed by narcissism.)

Other monsters took it well; he was still ugly inside, after all. He still belonged in the social gutter with them; and sometimes he was tempted to put his mask on again.

(But then he remembered the feeling of wearing it for many, many months.)

He owed Charlie a great deal of kisses, and he showered her with them on every occasion; she squealed and laughed and never pushed him away, because why would she? She deserved them.

Life was good in Gotham; city’s cautionary tale reached an end. The Penguin of Gotham was human again; and he had a whole new life to build, but he had time.

He had time - and most importantly, he wasn’t alone. He still had other monsters, who didn’t turn their back on him - and he had his beloved, a woman who turned him back.

He had time. He could do it. He was, after all, a cautionary tale.

#telltale batman #eng #ff #pinnguin #oc

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smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

Text

My Heart’s in the Highlands - Chapter 19

Fandom: OUAT

Pairing: Bellish, Swanfire, Snowing

Rating: T

Summary: With Rumplestiltskin gone, Belle can't face going back to the Enchanted Forest without him. She leaves Storybrooke forever, travels the world, and ends up in a small village in Scotland, where she meets a constable with a very familiar face.

AO3

Chapter 19: Th’envious Treachery of Man

The investigation into Neal's disappearance takes a turn, and Belle may have discovered the curse caster's purpose - but nothing is as it seems, and it appears there's more than one agenda at work.

Hamish would never complain about his land rover again. The little yellow Volkswagen was the single worst police vehicle he’d ever seen, and as it bounced over the roots and rocks in the road, he gritted his teeth and reminded himself that there were worse things to endure. Next to him was the proof of that; Emma was beside herself, her face white as a sheet and her knuckles bloodless where she gripped the steering wheel.

“I can’t believe I sent him out here alone,” she said. “We all knew how dangerous it was...the monkeys and the witch and...what if something happened to him?”

“We’ll find him, Miss Swan,” Hamish said, grimacing as they hit a particularly jarring pothole.

“Don’t call me that,” she said. “You sound too much like...just call me Emma.”

“You weren’t fond of...him...either, eh?”

Emma stopped the car abruptly and jumped out, Hamish following her. “I didn’t like him, but I didn’t dislike him. He was Neal’s dad and Henry’s other grandfather, and he was the reason my parents got together. It’s just weird, y’know? He was...him. And he and Belle were...them. And then she shows up with you and it’s just…” She shook her head. “God, where is he? How am I supposed to…”

She stopped, staring off into the trees, and then took off at a run, Hamish following after her. David knelt in a clearing, looking exhausted and bewildered, his clothes muddy and torn.

“Dad! Are you okay?” Emma reached his side and wrapped her hands around his arm, pulling him to his feet. “Where’s the witch?”

“It wasn’t her,” David said.

“Who was it?”

“Me...myself.”

“Yourself?” Emma looked stunned. “Okay, so...where...where is...are...you?”

“I defeated it. It was playing on my worst fears, things I’ve never told anyone, not even your mother. Only when I admitted my fears was I able to stab it with my sword.”

“What sword?” Hamish asked. He glanced around on the forest floor, but saw nothing but leaves.

“The hilt - when I stabbed the...whatever it was...with my sword, the hilt disappeared.” David raised troubled eyes to Emma’s. “Why would it disappear? Where would it go?”

Emma shrugged helplessly.

“Emma.”

The three of them turned at the sound of the new voice, and Emma let out a strangled cry.

“Neal!”

She dropped her father’s arm and ran to him, but a few feet from where he stood she appeared to run into a barrier; she was thrown back several yards, her arms pinwheeling as she struggled to remain on her feet. Hamish approached more slowly, wishing he had a firearm or something that would offer even the slightest protection. Something told him, however, that he had nothing to fear from the man.

Neal looked miserable and careworn, his clothes dirty and ragged and his face covered in several days’ worth of stubble. “I can’t stay long,” he said heavily. “She’ll call me back in a minute. But Emma...stop looking. Please. No harm will come to you and the others if you just back off.”

“She? Who’s she?” Emma approached him again, stepping carefully. “It’s Zelena, right? She’s the witch?”

Neal shook his head miserably. “She’s a victim just like me, Emma. Like all of us. She’s been trying to free me, but she’s powerless against…” He winced and staggered back, one hand at his head. “She’s calling me, Emma. I have to go back.”

“Neal, no!” Emma took another step forward. “If it wasn’t Zelena who did all this, who was it? Who captured you?”

“Think, Emma.” Neal looked as if he were fighting against invisible bonds, the words being dragged from him. “Who would lure us back here, only to prey on the innocent? Who would be so...so heartless? So evil?”

Emma’s face went white. “No. No, I don’t believe it.”

“Keep Henry safe, Emma,” Neal said, backing away from her. “Swear it.”

“Of course I will,” Emma said fiercely. “And I’ll find you. You know I will.”

Neal opened his mouth to respond, but black smoke billowed up around him, and he vanished.

“It can’t be Regina, it just can’t be,” Emma was saying as she paced up and down the pawnshop. “None of it makes sense.”

“Emma, I know this is difficult for you,” Mary Margaret said gently, “but you don’t know Regina the way we do. The woman I knew - she’s capable of anything.”

“But she was changing,” Emma said. “She wasn’t the evil queen anymore, she was...she was better.”

“And then she lost Henry,” Mary Margaret said. “You know how much she loved him. Losing someone you love - it can destroy the best of us.”

“But if she wanted to get back to him, why hasn’t she tried to contact him? Why hasn’t she come for him?”

“Maybe she has.”

Emma swiveled to look at Belle, who had emerged from the back room with David. “What?”

Belle held up the empty jar she’d found in the safe. “Based on what David described and on what I’ve found in some of Rumple’s books, it sounds like he was dosed with night root. It’s a magical plant that forces a person to face his worst fears.”

“He said he killed him. His fears. Whatever.”

“Yes, and then his sword hilt disappeared.” Belle fidgeted under Emma’s impatient gaze. “I don’t think it did disappear, though. I think it was taken by whoever gave him the night root.”

“But why? What would anyone want with a broken sword?”

“When we face our darkest fears, our true courage is revealed,” Belle said. “True courage, like true love, is a powerful emotion. David’s sword is now a symbol of that true courage.”

“So what would anyone want with my father’s courage?”

“I have some ideas,” Belle said. “I need to do a little more research before I can say for sure. Emma...did you and Neal have something that was important to you? A symbol of your love for each other that you would recognize instantly?”

“Dreamcatchers,” Emma said. “That was always our thing. We kept one hanging in the bug.”

Belle nodded. “Okay. I need to go to the library, I think, and do some more research.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be alone. No one should.”

Belle glanced at Hamish. “Hamish can stay with me and…”

“Yeah, the thing is…” Emma looked a little fidgety now. “Dad doesn’t want to leave Mom alone for too long,” David nodded, putting one arm around Mary Margaret’s shoulders, “and I...I could kind of use some backup. If you don’t mind,” she said to Hamish.

Hamish shrugged uneasily. “I came here to help Belle,” he said. “Isnae there someone else who…”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “This isn’t your fight, I know,” she said, “but...you seem like a good cop and someone who’s handy to have around in a tight spot. If I can’t have my dad, I was kind of hoping…”

“If she’ll have me, I could aid the lady in her research,” Hook said.

Belle, Hamish, and Emma shared wary glances. “I don’t know, Hook,” Emma said finally. “Research doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“I’ll admit I’m not of a scholarly bent,” he said, “but I can fetch and carry, and I’m more than capable of protecting her, should the need arise.”

“You do remember that you tried to kill me?” Belle said icily. “Twice?”

“Something I’ve regretted deeply,” Hook said. “Allow me to make amends, Lady Belle.”

Belle crossed her arms and studied him, and Hamish refrained from voicing his objections. If there was one thing he’d learned about Belle, it was that she hated to have others dictate to her. If she decided to accept the pirate’s protection, he would have to abide by her decision.

“Fine,” she said at last. “But I will be watching you, Captain.”

“Most ladies do, love.”

Belle rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” Emma said. “If what Neal said was true, we need to look for - for Regina. We know she hasn’t been back to her house or office, so she must have somewhere else to hide. Hamish and I will head out to the north side of town, since that’s where most of the monkey sightings have been. We’ll see what we can find. Belle, let us know the second you think you know what’s going on.”

“Of course.”

“Henry’s going to stay with you guys,” Emma said to her parents. “Please...don’t tell him what Neal said until we’ve found Regina. If there’s even the slightest chance that it’s not true…”

“We won’t,” David said. “We’ll take good care of him for you, Emma.”

When her parents were gone, Emma turned to Hamish. “Here,” she said holding out the small handgun she’d carried on her belt.

Hamish took it. “I didnae think I was allowed tae carry a firearm in the States.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m the sheriff, remember? And it’s not like the Feds are gonna come storming in.” She turned to Hook. “We’re on channel 3 on the walkies if you can’t reach our phones. Call us the second you know something.”

Hook bowed in acknowledgment, and Hamish and Emma made to leave.

“Wait!” Belle called, running after them. Hamish stopped and turned to her, his brow creased in worry. After hesitating a moment, Belle reached up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, and Hamish was almost too surprised to respond. “Be careful,” she whispered when she’d pulled away.

He nodded, barely registering the surprise on Emma’s face and the thinly disguised disgust on Hook’s. “You too, darlin’,” he said. Belle smiled and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, then stepped back, and he turned to follow Emma out of the shop, his mind a-whirl.

“You do have a type, don’t you?” Hook asked Belle when they’d barricaded themselves in the shop. He leaned against the counter and appeared to be studying her intently.

“I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘type’,” Belle said tartly, flipping open the pad of paper she’d once briefly used to take notes while she did inventory.

“Well, you know,” Hook gestured vaguely. “First the crocodile, now this fellow.”

“My love life is really none of your business.” Belle opened an ancient tome on the glass counter and began scanning the contents. Hook swept one hand before him as if in apology and began to pace the length of the shop.

One spell stood out to her - it called for four powerful ingredients, and if her hunch was right...Belle reached for her pen to take down notes, but it was no longer where she’d put it. With a sigh she looked all around her, but the pen was nowhere to be seen.

“Anything wrong, milady?” Hook asked from the other end of the shop, where he was inspecting two grotesque wooden puppets.

“I need a pen,” she said, “and it appears I’ve misplaced mine.”

Hook approached her again and looked about her, then suddenly stooped to the floor. “Is this what you’re looking for, love?” he asked, holding up the black fountain pen Rumple had always preferred. Belle was sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago, but she supposed she’d been too flustered to notice it.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him.

True courage...true love...true intelligence...true innocence...they were ingredients nearly impossible to obtain all at once, but if it could be done...Belle’s pen flew over the page as she recorded her thoughts and suppositions and questions. Why would Regina need this spell? What could she hope to accomplish? How did she plan to avoid the myriad problems such a spell would inevitably cause?

She now had Charming’s courage, and Belle supposed Neal was being kept for a purpose other than the usefulness of his blood - though why he would be chosen as the supplier of true love when Emma would have been a clearer choice...Belle’s pen slowed and she considered that, wondering why Emma had been spared and Neal had been taken. Could Regina have some other purpose for Emma?

And from what source did she plan to harvest true innocence? Innocence in its purest form could only be found…

Belle caught her breath. Of course. Snow White’s baby. That was why the curse had been enacted when it had, instead of a year ago or even two or three months ago. It was perfectly timed to coincide with the new prince or princess’s birth.

Courage, love, and innocence were all accounted for then. Only intelligence remained, and as much as Belle loved Neal, and as canny and clever as he was, she didn’t think anyone would choose him for such a purpose. Who in the Enchanted Forest would have intelligence enough to be mined for such a powerful spell?

The space between Belle’s eyes began to pound as she pondered this question, considered the other townspeople. For whatever reason, Emma did not seem to be a target, and neither of the royals were known for their intellect. There was the psychologist - the cricket - what was his name? She could not remember for the life of her. And the woodcarver’s son - had anyone seen him? He was clever wasn’t he? What was his name again? She couldn't recall what it had been in either this world or the last.

Dimly Belle felt a dull pain in her fingers and she looked down to where she still gripped the fountain pen, which was glowing green in her hand. It moved rapidly across the paper, though she had long since stopped consciously writing, and she drew in a deep breath as panic set in. Her thoughts spilled across the page in deep emerald ink, and her head grew fuzzy and her vision blurred.

“Feeling alright, milady?” Hook asked.

Belle shook her head, her breathing labored.

“Ah. Yes, I suppose it must be draining, having one’s thoughts and knowledge siphoned from one’s head. Don’t you fret, love. These…” and he ripped the page from the pad and the pen from her hand, “are all we need of you. You have yourself a nice long rest, and when you wake, you’ll be in a new world. Who knows? You may even have your precious crocodile back.”

Belle fumbled for her phone in her pocket, but her vision was going dark, and her knees buckled.

“Nighty-night,” Hook said with a cruel smile.

Belle watched helplessly as he strode out the door, and then everything went black.

#bellish #hamish macbeth #belle french

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oldvailiarepublic · 7 years

Text

Origins of Watcher, Twinshadow

The Origin of Nhyvania Twinshadow - Ranging Hunter from The Living Lands

(under constant editing because I’m shit at proofreading)

“So what brings you all the way up here?” she asked, her skinning knife sliding along the end of the stick, fashioning it into a finely-pointed skewer.

The two men looked at each other, then at her. “Well,” started the first one, a tall, lean human with oily brown hair and pallid, taut skin, “heard so much about the mighty bounty of the Lands, thought we’d test Lady Luck herself.” His pale, blue eyes gleamed as he stared at her. “You hear things down south that get you thinkin’.” The second man, a muscular, tawny-skinned wood elf, merely watched her blade move across the wood, back and forth.

“I see,” she said, putting the first skewer down and picking up another stick. She set her blade on the tip, but merely held it there. Her two-toned eyes, one silver, one soft black, slid between the two, studying their faces. “I don’t get many people wanting to settle up here. Mostly just people passing through to see the sights, or, in the rare case, heading to a village where the rest of their kin did settle. Not many people hire on Rangers these days anyways.” She tilted the stick at a downward angle and began peeling away the green bark. The campfire between them sparked and crackled in the wake of silence.

The river that ran near them was a dull roar, but it did not entirely drown out the sounds of beasts calling from deeper in the forests. “So, Ranger,” the first man said, a glint in his eye accompanying the faint mocking tone, “what sights are there to see?” His eyes did not focus on the silver of her cloak, nor the grey of her leathers, emblazoned with a white hand above her heart, but roved around the curve of her body, then focused directly on her mouth, at last fixating on her eyes and the tattoos that branded her face. She cut a deep swath out of the branch, meeting his stare as she did so. “Depends on what sort of trouble you’re looking for. I know plenty of caverns in the area filled with ornery beast. I know of entire villages, swallowed by jungle or desert, haunted by spirits at various stages of unrest. I know of endless plains that hide shadowstalkers that would walk in your footsteps and you wouldn’t know it until their claws have torn your spine open. Usually, a Ranger advises her employers not to tread in those areas, but…” her knife carved deep and swift, a curled piece of bark flinging into the flame, “if you’re hell-bent on danger, I won’t stop you.”

The elvish man had quietly begun to pace and walked a semi-circle around her as she spoke with the human. She glanced to her side. Her bow was leaning against a log, as was her estoc. The human had one hand propped against his knee, in plain sight, and when he talked, he made motion to flourish it, but his other hand was nowhere to be seen; her ears heard the slight clicking of a pistol being cocked from his cloak. She glanced to the side and saw the elvish man’s hand had come to rest on the pommel of his scimitar.

“Oh see, where I come from,” he smiled broadly, “we love dang—” Her knife connected with his throat, sinking into his vocal chords, burying itself to the hilt. He gurgled, stumbling to his feet and trying to suck air in; it made a terrible suctioning sound like a foot prying out of wet mud. He fell face forward into the fire, sending ash, ember and flame in a plume around his writhing body. The Elf was already coming down at her with his scimitar, a tremendous arcing swing. She rolled, singing herself on the charcoal and still-burning tinder, and stepped on and over the thrashing human. She rolled him over and planted a leather boot against his blackened throat and pulled out the knife. It came loose with a wet peel.

The elf continued to sidestep, his eyes trained on her, rapt to each micromovement. She backed away from the fire, towards the river, the small, bloodied hunting knife the only thing between her and her unknown assailant. Settlers my frostkissed ass, she thought with a pang.

With the grace of a trained mercenary, the elf came at her, slashing and arcing his blade. She ducked and dodged, rolled and leaning out of his thrusts. She kicked out at his legs, felling him to one knee, but he finally made purchase and grazed her on the thigh as she tried to sweep her leg back. It cut into her leathers and sunk. She felt the searing pain, followed by the agonizing sting of open air when he tore free of her. Warmth spread and began to trickle down her calf. Clambering to her feet, her trained breath becoming slightly ragged, she stopped backing up, and merely stood still, watching him slowly stand and stretch his shoulder, brandish his blade with satisfaction, flecks of red spinning off in numerous directions.

“What do they call you out here, Ranger?” His thick Vailian accent was consumed with mirth. “The Lone Wolf, is it? So sad, no? Left all alone… Lone Wolves don’t live long without their packs to care for them. Oh, graces, verus? The way they speak of you in villages! ‘Don’t hire the Whiteling, she cannibalized her entire Order.’ ‘Oh, the Wolf preys upon the travelers and feeds on their corpse and soul!’ A hungry wolf, are you? Luring people out here to their deaths?”

She grit her teeth. “Which village sent you? It’s lies.” Her hardened gaze traveled over his gear—rough and weathered, but expensive. “I did not cannibalize my Order. Go before your life is forfeit to the earth.”

“Ah, but no village sent me, you understand. At least none from here. Not to take the Lone Wolf, but… who was this Wolf before, I wonder, hm?” he absently twirled the scimitar in his hand, his eyes flickering across the tattoos on her forehead and that lined her eyes like warpaint, “This wolf has marks brant across her face from a time before. Maybe this wolf was once a dog, yes? Maybe once, someone owned this dog. Maybe I was sent to catch this dog.”

Her eyes quickly took note of the ground. She could make for the river, but this time of year it had a strong undercurrent that pulled most people, unsuspecting, to their deaths. Her footsteps, light though they were, did shift dust from the hard-packed bank, however. A slow smile spread across her face.

“What does the dog think to be so funny?” the Elf asked, a smile matching hers mirroring back.

“That this dog can be quite the bitch.” With that, she kicked hard, and a plume of dust and grit sprayed into his open eyes and mouth. His hand immediately clawed towards his sockets, and he gave a loud half-shriek of confusion. For a halfbreath, she looked around, her eyes darting rapidly—run or fight.

Run or fight.

With a sharp exhale, she dove towards his stomach, her shoulders colliding hard with his ribcage, her knife driving in for the vital organs. As he went down, she rolled over the top of him and landed on her feet, tensed above his head, and with grit teeth drove a bare hand straight into his throat. Her sharpened nails gouged and tore, while the other hand grappled with his sword arm. He squirmed and rolled, attempting to bite at the arm that had pinned him by the throat, but she drove her free arm inward with all of her strength, like a bear trying to break apart a deer’s chest, heaving downward with all of her might hinged on her back and shoulder. His wet screams turned into heartbeat-like splatters as she crushed, up and down, her nail and knuckle meeting gristle and spine.

When at last she realized his cries were long stilled, she fell back. Her arm was coated in thick, viscous black blood and tatters of cloth and skin. Rocking back on her heels and at last splaying her legs out, she stared at it absently, looking around her as if the world had suddenly returned to full colour. Two men, one half-burned over flame, still smoking, and the other’s throat ripped out entirely.

It looked bestial.

She had earned the title and reputation of the Lone Wolf, she supposed. It was no wonder they imagined her to be a cannibal. She had done similar to other highwaymen or bandits when threatened. But to protect, to defend.

But isn’t that what Lone Wolves do? she mused, survive at all costs?

She sighed. The Living Lands had been her mother since she was a child. She was found, naked and feral, by the Order of the White Hand, more informally known as the White Rangers. They had taken her in, trained her, loved her, and yet... she as a witness, watched as they had all perished around her. Years passed and then, next to the deep gouges of scars, wrinkles drew lines as well, sinking into familiar curves around her friends’ eye and mouth. Where once hair was bright and bold, their braids became woven grey and white. She had outlived those that saved her, and took with her the pain of them passing in their sleep, not waking when she shook them, or watching a careless swing lay them down dead-eye in the earth to beast. Without them...

Her sigh rumbled in her chest. They had all joined the order as lass and lad. It was no wonder they had fallen and slumbered around the same age, and not many come seeking their fortune as a Ranger this far into the interior. After they passed, well... it was not uncommon knowledge, her origin; the bestial child from the wilds. She had been quite the talk in the small towns that bloomed in the more verdant valleys and meadows. As generations of families grew up, her legend became more colourful. A Folketale to keep young kith in bed at night.

Looking at her hands... she was just thankful none of her order were alive to see her now, the blood dripped into a drying patch of ruddy brown beneath her hand. Dust settled over it, her breaths slowing, the heat of battle drying from her brow... and the torrent of water rushing nearly erased the reverberating sound of screams in her ears.

The river.

She dragged both of their bodies to the river edge. Kneeling down, she examined their faces. The elf was Vailian, but the man, she would guess was likely Aedyran, based on manner and dress. After ripping the knife free and wiping it clean on the elf’s clothes, she fished through their pockets. In the folk’s pocket, she found a crumpled, weathered note.

“Pale Elf. Female. Youthful, technical age 60-65 years old. White-blonde hair. Right eye Silver, Left eye Black. Small stature, lithe figure. Sworl tattoo on forehead & outlined around eyes in the colour of seafoam for correct identification. Officially known in the south as the Seventh Seastar, Aveandar. Status of mother, brother & as of last seen, unborn sibling, unknown. Nicknames: Seastone, Twinshadow, Frostkiss of the North, Snowfox, Ghost, Lone Wolf. Given Name by Order: Nhyvania Twinshadow. Rarely goes by. Associations: Order of the White Hand – White Rangers: status of order – deceased. Faithful of the Twilight Lady : status of order – deceased. Profession: Hunter / Ranging Guide. Animal Companion: last known, Mahkala, Black Leopard (deceased). Known to be quick of wit, keen eyed. Wields rapiers, estocs & accurate long range with warbow, deadly up close with throwing knives. Honest by nature but feared by locals to be a Cannibal. Raised feral in the wilds by herself until around the age of thirteen years. Last known contact with other Rangers 10-8 years ago. Prefers interior, forests and mountain, visits seaside every year in midsummer. Passes through the towns of Stillwater, Black Antler and Crowned Thicket for supplies regularly—ask locals for information. Known to scribe books, scrolls, craft poultice & potion, and tan hides. Look for on the western interior Lodges. Ask for assistance invoking her order, she won’t turn down. Best taken while asleep, drug her food or ale. Prefers dark ales. Don’t spook her. Bring back her head, eyes intact. – M.H.”

Someone had been doing their research. An unsettling chill ran down her spine, the white hairs raising on her arm. Most of this information was news to her.

She committed the words to memory, her lips moving in silent reading, eyes roving over the words once, twice, thrice and then… she crumpled the note and threw it into the river first. It bobbed up and down, still for a moment, before catching on the invisible tug of the undertide. At once, the black water sucked it under, the paper disappearing into the depths.

Dragging the men feet-first, she shoved them both into the river. Dusting her hands off on her kneecaps, she sighed, watching their bodies bash against rocks as they floated downstream. Unlike the paper, their bodies refused to sink—their limbs caught the pull of the ripcurrent, but their faces and torsos remained upturned, dead eyes gazing upwards at the sky as if begging the night to grant them a final chance, reconciliation with their fates.

This was bad; the locals, if they found the bodies of these men, and if the men had been asking after her, would know that they last sought her, and would find their bodies in poor state. Further fodder for the Cannibal rumours.

“Gods above, this land is wearing out its welcome.” She paused, tapping a finger against her chin. A mother, brother, and unborn sibling. As far as she was aware, she was an only child. She was sure, of course, she had been born between the legs of a Pale Elf somewhere down the line, obviously, but… ‘Officially known in the South’? She had a reputation somewhere? How could that be, if she had grown up here in the wilds, feral, from such a young age? Something wasn’t sitting right.

M.H., it was signed. Curious. Well, they had found her, certainly. She looked around the forest and rocky outcroppings, suspicion etched into her brow; was she watched even now? Who, exactly, had been spying on her long enough to track her habits? Not just habits, but yearly habits. The midsummer sea-visits were a trek she took religiously every year, to honour the Twilight Lady. Had someone been stalking her? Unnerving, she thought, as a shiver ran down her spine again, a deep chill from within.

And why send lackluster mercenaries if someone that good at gathering intel had been here all the while? Unless they had been here for a short time and merely gathered the information from villagers. She would have to travel into the towns and start questioning people. Wouldn’t be pretty, she imagined. People shut their doors upon her entrance into towns, grabbed their children and told them to hide.

How had it come to this? She strode over to the remains of the campfire. It smelled of burnt flesh, an odour sure to draw out hungry beasts or curious creature. She kicked dirt and dust over the coal, her boot scuffing against the compact, dry earth. Lastly, she overturned the stone ring atop it, stacking them carefully, like a grave. At least someone made them one. Kinder than most murderers, she supposed.

She placed her knife back in her small scabbard at her side. Returning to her pack and belongings, she strapped her enchanted Estoc, Wolfe’s Maw, to her belt and slung her bow, Thrice-Arrow, over her back, securing her half-full quiver at her side. Lastly, she threw her light, hide pack over one shoulder and looked over the small abandoned camp. There was sign of a struggle, but with the rains coming, it should cover her tracks leading away.

She sighed. “No good Kith these days,” she murmured as she wrapped a small strip of linen over the cut on her leg, tying a tight knot and gritting her teeth, “and nothing worth living for in these lands.” Her eyes traveled around the distant cliffs, the rolling hills that bound upward into the jutting mountain peaks, bearing both jungle and temperate forest, meadow and plains, desert and crag, the curl of hotspring and waterfall mists over the distant horizon, and still... none of it held beauty in her eyes anymore.

She looked towards the distant south, where she could not see—but knew—that the sea waited, beckoning. “Twilight lady, know I carry you with me always,” she whispered, her eyes darting up to the rising moon, the reflection mirroring in her dark iris only. “In silence and sorrow.”

Her steps, light and precise, began to follow a game trail, and soon she was but a shadow in the descending darkness.

#Pillars of Eternity #The Watcher #Fanfic #the living lands #ranger #About : Twinshadow #twinshadow

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gwyvian · 7 years

Text

Resistances and Dalliances

Chapter 20: Shadowlight, Part II

“Were you expecting someone else, lady Pathfinder?” Mashiar laughed.

“Mashiar…” Ryder said, heartbeat racing and mind still filled with her screaming senses and the terrible pain of loss and betrayal. “Why reveal yourself now?” she asked, trying to stall and reorient herself enough to make sense of the situation; not to mention figuring out how to stay alive. She knew Firaan was deadly with his namesake weapon of choice and she doubted that she was in a position to stop someone like that in the tight space they were in without injury; well, perhaps with SAM to aid her she could do it, logically she knew she needn’t be afraid, yet she couldn’t help but be aware of how dangerous the man was and feel threatened by it.

“As I said, you sent Tajix sniffing after me. I suppose I shouldn’t have killed him, I still might have hidden my tracks, but he did always irritate me,” Mashiar said speculatively, crossing his arms. “Not to mention your little surprises. I know an ending when I see one, with or without him you would have figured it out now.” He cocked his head as he studied her face and he clearly enjoyed what he saw there, judging by his smile. “I’m here now to indulge your curiosity. I’m sure you have many questions for me… and then we will see about fixing the mess you made by not joining the vanguard.”

Ryder opened her mouth to deny him the pleasure of hearing her plead or ask why or any of it, but as if sensing her defiance, SAM’s voice stopped her.

Pathfinder, I may be able to alert the angara and trap Mashiar, but it will take some time, SAM intoned.

“Why?” Ryder asked simply, locking eyes with the commander.

“You’re going for the obvious question first? I’m disappointed,” he frowned.

“It’s the most important one,” she answered. It also was the only one she could think of; SAM or no, she still had to figure out a way to get him out of this alcove without him killing her first. Though, her mind was beginning to grasp the reality of the situation and more questions did arise in her; rather pressing questions.

“But not the most interesting one.”

“What happened to you that made you become this? Killing your own,” she gestured helplessly, searching for the words to express how disturbed she was at the idea of someone like him being capable of such atrocities. “Tajix… those fighters on my ship, even the Roekaar…”

Mashiar considered. “Because it’s the only way any of it made sense. Because I was taken by the kett as a child, along with my family and I was raised by them. Because my bedtime stories were listening to each of them scream in agony, until one by one they all changed… Because I am kett. My mothers and all my siblings were reborn, but their spirits always belonged. That’s what I was told and what I was taught and therefore, that is who I am.”

Ryder shook her head at the horror of it. “You can’t possibly believe that! You know what they do to your people, how can you say you’re one of them? They didn’t change you.”

“They tried,” Mashiar replied. “I had to kill them eventually.”

“That… makes no sense at all,” she said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to argue the point too strenuously, though; a mind like his convinced of something like that could certainly accept inconsistencies as fact, but if he was unbalanced enough to believe such a thing, he could also snap at any moment.

“My kidnapping, the death, the loss only meant something if there was a purpose to it. I began to realize that I was wrong about the kett. We all are. Even they are to some degree.”

“So you help the kett by slaughtering your way through us? That’s your idea of absolution?” Ryder asked incredulously. “Have you been feeding them information, too?”

“What did it all matter in the end?” the commander asked, as if he hadn’t heard her question or he simply ignored it. “They taught me to be one of them, but then not even that was enough. So, I had to escape.”

“And you escaped and rejoined your people, how could you… do this?” Ryder faltered, unable to find words strong enough.

“The angara weren’t enough, either,” Mashiar frowned. “What purpose is there to this struggle? All the wasted lives focused on this war when we could all be one family again?”

“You’re one to talk about wasting life! You slaughtered an entire daar!”

“The Roekaar,” Mashiar sneered. “They are already traitors, their lives don’t matter.”

“If they don’t matter, why did you need to kill them in the first place?”

“They are easy to manipulate… but also are quite boastful if you show your colors to be similar to theirs. So they had to die.”

“That was a miscalculation,” Ryder said fiercely. She felt terribly cold inside and so she focused on her anger, her outrage. Those emotions felt like the only real things in a sudden storm of terrible madness. “One of them survived and told us who to look for.”

Mashiar was silent for a moment, forest eyes studying her. “That is where you learned my name,” he said finally.

“You didn’t cover your tracks very well,” she went on.

“Well, I had you fooled for a while,” Mashiar smiled.

There was something about the way he said that; it was almost like remembering something, but Ryder couldn’t quite place her finger on it. “I should have known it was you the moment I discovered that trap on the Tempest…” she said after a moment, suddenly afraid that a lull in their conversation would precipitate whatever it was that Mashiar had planned next.

“I had a special surprise waiting for you,” Mashiar nodded, “but I thought it would be more to the point to just have a lot of dead angarans on your ship. I’ve had to hold your hand throughout the whole scheme to make sure the right signals were sent, the way you two tripped your way through everything… I admit that wasn’t my only reason, but it was a good one.”

There was an edge in his voice that puzzled Ryder; was he angry that they didn’t dance to his tune as he wanted? As far as she was concerned he had played them like a harp, but maybe he didn’t see it that way. She sensed that there was an opportunity at hand to learn more about his methods, if he would share them; perhaps it would somehow help… her eyes went to the opening behind him, but knew there was no way she could get passed him without getting in a fight. More importantly though, she wasn’t sure she didn’t want to somehow lure him out to expose him before the entire Resistance cell here, it could potentially mend all the fractures he had placed in the Initiative’s relationship with the angara; but how she was to do that without getting killed was another matter. She needed more time to think, unless SAM came up with something.

“That man in the beginning… why did you kill him?”

“Ah, yes,” Mashiar sighed. “Another hasty action. I’m afraid I lost my temper when I learned that I had to free you after you so clumsily let yourselves be caught instead of following the trail I planted.”

Ryder frowned. “The kett took us exactly where you wanted…” he cut her off.

“The kett weren’t part of the plan,” he made a dismissive gesture. He was getting impatient with the conversation, Ryder was sure of it.

She hesitated. “Why are you letting me ask all these questions?”

“I have my reasons,” he smiled mysteriously, and then fell silent, waiting for her to proceed. Well, at least she knew he wouldn’t prematurely end it; if she could just keep him talking long enough…

“The Roekaar… when did you even have the opportunity?”

“I fetched some scientists from Havarl, the very ones that Tajix tangled with eventually,” he smiled smugly. “It couldn’t have gone better if I had planned every second of it…” his smile faded and his expression changed again; it was as though he looked at her with mingled anger and regret – perhaps betrayal? Why did he feel betrayed?

“So that wasn’t your plan…” Ryder said slowly. “You didn’t kill them to lure us there, did you? You were just taking advantage of the opportunity.”

“No, I didn’t expect you to be there,” Mashiar replied, a little irritable. “But it was what caught my attention.”

Ryder looked a question at him.

“At first I thought he just made you his own to forget the pain, the way you kept arguing and acting as though nothing happened… but then I tried so hard to steal you away and you wouldn’t come.”

Ryder’s heart skipped a beat. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that Evfra could turn out to be her weakness, but right then she knew that Mashiar could and would use her relationship with the Resistance leader against them in the worst way possible and she had to stop it, divert him if she could. But this is madness! He can’t know! He must be lying… she thought, but she was afraid she knew that he wasn’t lying. If she could just shift his focus away from Evfra, perhaps that wouldn’t matter, though. Something tickled that part of her mind again in the way he had said those words and this time the feeling seized her strongly. He couldn’t possibly have feelings of his own towards her…? It really was madness, clearly he was just manipulating her again.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to go with that story,” Ryder said flatly. How gullible did he think she was?

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Mashiar asked with a smile. “You are quite exotic, quite intoxicating. I see what Evfra sees in you.”

“He doesn’t see anything,” Ryder said uncomfortably. “Nothing… nothing really happened.” It was worth a try, on the off chance that he really was just making very astute guesses.

“Oh, I know about you and him. I have from the start, I was watching you on Havarl.”

Ryder stared at him, starting to feel a little desperate. That wasn’t, of course, the beginning; Mashiar clearly didn’t know about what happened between her and Evfra on Voeld. Maybe that was her way out, if she could pass it off as a one-time thing… they had agreed to keep up that appearance with Evfra anyway and she didn’t think there was any way Mashiar could know about any of their other encounters, either. She discarded the idea as she studied his expression, certain that he was convinced no matter what she said.

Mashiar smiled. “You are searching for a good reply… but does it really matter if I know?”

“There is nothing to know about,” Ryder snapped.

“Isn’t there?”

“Maybe I’m just not interested in you in particular,” she sniffed, giving him the most arrogant stare she could muster. It seemed to have the desired effect because rage blazed in his eyes for a moment before he could master it again. “I’m not impressed by your little schemes, either,” she added.

To her surprise, Mashiar laughed. “Oh, I like you like this. I know almost everything! And you cannot deny that I have fascinated you as much as you fascinate me, I’ve watched you puzzle over every clue I’ve left you.”

Pathfinder, Evfra has gathered Resistance forces at central command and has ordered every exit and hallway covertly guarded, SAM said and Ryder could have leapt with joy. Perhaps careful bating would goad Mashiar into using you as a hostage, he is not aware that the base is on alert. Snipers have been positioned along the hangar bay and all the exits. I was not able to communicate Firaan’s identity, however, as only Evfra has a point of reference.

It was enough; it had to be.

Ryder smiled humorlessly. “We stopped you, Mashiar, the battle you wanted between the Initiative and the Resistance failed today. You really thought that I’m so vain that I have to be at the heart of the action wherever it is? You know nothing about me or my fascinations.”

“You haven’t proven me wrong… until now,” he pointed out.

“So what was your plan, force me into a situation where I have to betray one or the other?” Mashiar merely nodded in acknowledgement and Ryder shook her head. “You made too many assumptions. Perhaps you thought you got to know me enough…”

“You’re too late to stop the war,” Mashiar laughed, though her comment seemed to bother him. “Did you think that was my only plan?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, feigning surprise. So he didn’t know where she had sent Kandros. That was good; his information definitely had limits.

“I admit, I focused on you a little too much. I had to branch out. As we speak, the surviving Roekaar are descending on New Tuchanka, where ‘Firaan is hiding’,” he said mockingly, then gave another rich laugh, clearly delighted by his own cleverness.

Ryder smiled slowly, waiting for his mirth to subside as he took in her expression. “You think we’ve been that idle? We don’t dance to your strings anymore, Firaan,” she emphasized the name to drive her point home.

“Such defiance!” he grinned. “How are you going to stop me when you are on Voeld with me?”

“I admit, provoking the krogans was a brilliant plan,” she said.

Mashiar’s eyes were full of zest at her praise.

“But,” Ryder continued, “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. Jaal is there and he’s leading a sizeable Resistance force. The Roekaar will have to fight angara aiding the krogans… and the Nexus force I just sent to help him.”

A muscle twitched in Mashiar’s face, but he forced a smile. “I can work around that. You’ve only set me back a little.”

“I’ve been doing it from the start, it seems little setbacks is all it takes to stop you,” Ryder said. “Just admit it, you bit off more than you could chew with us. The Initiative isn’t like the kett or the angara… clearly you have no idea how to properly manipulate events.”

“That, I fear, is entirely due to you alone, Pathfinder,” Mashiar nodded and abruptly grabbed her by the arm to twist her around, a blade going against her side and pressing just hard enough to be on the brink of slicing into her. Ryder gasped in surprise, but she didn’t struggle; the conversation was over, but she was more or less certain that he wouldn’t actually kill her. “So you are the one I have to do something about,” he added, forcing her forward and out of the alcove. He didn’t go towards the hangar bay, however; Ryder felt distinctly uneasy now.

“What exactly can you do about me that wouldn’t point straight at you?” she asked, trying to get him talking again – anything, so long as he didn’t take her to some obscure passageway the Resistance wasn’t aware of; she was so close to exposing him, she would rather push herself on that blade to incriminate him than let him get away now.

“I wonder what the Resistance will say about how you’ve wrapped him around your finger… is that how the human expression goes?”

Ryder stared at him in horror as she suddenly understood his intention. “No,” she said in denial. “Mashiar, please, if you were even being a little honest just now about your feelings, don’t do this.”

Mashiar gave her a look that said she was being ridiculous. “I express my affections differently,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“The angara don’t deserve this! Please think about this,” Ryder said, struggling in his grip, but it was a token gesture. She was babbling and knew she was reacting completely irrationally, but she couldn’t help herself; there just had to be an angaran heart still deep inside him and at the moment she wanted nothing more than to reach it, touch it, influence it somehow.

“I believe that you care about my people,” Mashiar said unexpectedly, “but I also believe that you, like them, are misguided in what you think is good for us. Think about it: decades of endless war. Thousands upon thousands dead, fighting to the very last. With exaltation, we become more than what we were and there is no need for us to die.”

“That doesn’t even apply to all angara!” Ryder exclaimed, unable to fathom how the man could possibly think such nonsense. “You know it doesn’t, thousands die in slave camps, you can’t tell me that is for their own good!”

Mashiar shrugged slightly, the blade digging into her side a little harder. “Culling is inevitable. Not everyone is suited for the future of our people.”

Before she knew it or could protest further, they were entering the command center; as SAM had promised, the place was filled with angara, though clearly none of them were expecting the pair of them to march into their midst as they did. Silence spread across them in a ripple beginning at the entrance they had walked through all the way to the back. Evfra looked surprised and worried to see them, eyes flicking between Ryder and Mashiar and she could almost see the conclusions forming in his mind; she just wasn’t sure if he was drawing the right ones. SAM had only indicated to them that she was in trouble but not why, and it was likely that no one saw the blade at her side, only that Mashiar was arm-in-arm with her. They drew to a halt and Evfra took a step towards them, but Anjik laid a hand on his arm to stop him from descending and he grudgingly complied; the commander was one of hers, after all.

“Mashiar, what is the meaning of this?” Anjik asked. “When I heard the Pathfinder was taken captive I thought it more Initiative theatrics and now I find out it was you?”

Mashiar’s blade vanished from Ryder’s side and he stepped behind her in a most familiar way, nuzzling against her shoulder as his arms went around her waist to hold her in place. His spicy scent filled her lungs but the only thing she felt was panic; Anjik’s expression grew darker by the second, but it was nothing compared to Evfra’s face. The commander was provoking Evfra and she was very much afraid he didn’t realize that Mashiar was manipulating him. How could she tell him that he was Firaan?

“I wanted to tell everyone about the Pathfinder,” Mashiar said suggestively, running fingers through her hair before she could stop him with one hand, still holding her against him with the other. She tried to shy away from his fingers as he began to trace the contour of her neck, but he was standing too close for the move to be effective. He bent closer and in a low voice so that only she could hear he spoke into her hair, “Do you want me to go on? Maybe he will stop me, if you let him.”

“Stop this, Mashiar, please,” Ryder pleaded softly over her shoulder. She tried to squirm out of his grip, abandoning appearances, but his free hand suddenly gripped into her hair and she stilled. Her neck bent as it was she only saw Evfra from the corner of her eye, but she could see enough to know he looked murderous, though thankfully he seemed to be restraining himself.

“You know there is only one way to stop me,” Mashiar replied just as softly. “You can still choose me, if you want.”

“That’s… your business, Mashiar, take it somewhere else,” Anjik said, looking confused and a little perturbed at the display. Clearly she thought that all of this had been a false alarm and she began to turn away to give the command to stand down.

Mashiar smiled at her. “But I wanted to share something special about her with everyone. You see,” he hand reached around her shoulders to caress her cheek, “I confess I find her very fascinating…”

“What do I have to do?” Ryder asked him hastily, panicked. She was willing to let her dignity die here in the eyes of the angara, even go with him if that’s what it took, but if he managed to goad Evfra into joining her all would be lost.

“Why don’t you tell us about how you like to toy with us?” Mashiar asked in a loud enough voice that everyone could hear.

Ryder froze, casting around in her mind how she could possibly diffuse the situation, but she realized that the only thing she could do was let this happen. Still, a stubborn seed in her didn’t allow her to just casually give in the way he wanted… she required an explanation. Squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin in the air, she locked eyes with Evfra, giving him an infinitesimal shake of the head to stop him from interfering. He just glared back at her and she was afraid that nothing she could do or say would be enough to stop him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but his fingers went to her throat; it felt like a threat, but she knew that to the others it looked very different.

“What have you discovered?” Ashae demanded.

“You like your angarans, don’t you? How many of us have you used to further the Initiative’s schemes?” Mashiar asked, and, arm tightening painfully around her waist, added with a hiss, “Except of course, you only like to tease me…”

“Mashiar, what are you trying to prove here?” Anjik demanded impatiently. “Are you saying the Pathfinder has been seducing her way to…”

“Get your hands off her,” Evfra growled suddenly, jerking his arm away from Anjik’s prohibitive snatch at him and he strode up to the pair of them.

“Evfra, no,” Ryder pleaded, but he ignored her, except to grab her arm and firmly pull her out of Mashiar’s embrace and behind him.

“You see?” Mashiar said cheerfully, walking backwards and holding an arm out towards them as if they were on display before Evfra could do more than make a threatening gesture. “Is that the action of an impartial man? You are all fools not to have seen it!”

“You!” Ashae took a step towards them, eyes bulging in shock. “It’s true?” she demanded.

“Don’t listen to him!” Ryder said to the room, to anyone who would listen. “Mashiar is not who he seems to be…”

“But are you who you seem to be, lady Pathfinder?” Mashiar demanded, cutting into her words. “Because what I see is our great leader, Evfra, protecting you like a lover from his rival.” The smile he gave Evfra taunted and the Resistance leader growled, but the damage was done.

Gasps and mutters filled the room and everywhere Ryder looked, she saw incredulity and shock, even revulsion on a few faces. Even Anjik studied her as if only just then seeing her clearly for the first time, though her thoughts on the matter were hidden behind an unreadable expression. She tried to gently pry Evfra’s fingers off her arm, but he wouldn’t release it; his eyes were also studying the room.

“This woman has been poisoning the Resistance!” Ashae said hotly, striding towards her as though planning to rip her away from Evfra the way he had from Mashiar’s grip, but she abruptly drew to a halt as Evfra rounded on her.

“Leave her, Ashae,” he warned coldly.

The lieutenant stared at him, stunned. “You can’t mean…”

“We’ve always been a giving, accepting people,” Evfra said to the room at large. “If you think this is wrong, you’re welcome to join the Roekaar. The Resistance doesn’t want you. We can fight this war alone, we have for many years, but we don’t have to. And if I can save angara by accepting help from the woman I love, by the stars I will!” To everyone’s shock, he drew Ryder closer and kissed her.

Sound exploded around them, voices of shock, awe, disgust and celebration all mingled into a tumult that washed over Ryder into oblivion as she struggled not to melt completely; but it was difficult to care about anything except the overwhelming joy she felt washing away the pain and fear of the past hours until she felt dizzy with emotion. He drew away slowly, his tempestuous silvery eyes filled with fierce certainty and love for her; he smiled slightly, scar pulling at the edge of his mouth and she couldn’t help but laugh in delight.

“What have you done…” Ashae said behind her, voice filled with anguish.

Ryder turned, expecting to feel vindicated, but the lieutenant’s face made her hold back. Evfra’s eyes had fixed on the woman as well, his expression grim, but he still exuded a rock solid certainty that left no room for doubt in his decision.

“What I should have done long ago,” Evfra replied. “All this secrecy has only served to divide us.”

“You should never have let it happen!” Ashae spat at him, enraged and clearly struggling with herself. “I won’t let this happen…” she added in a lower, more dangerous voice.

“Ashae, control yourself,” Anjik said disapprovingly, also stepping closer. She hesitated for a moment, studying Ryder still halfway in Evfra’s embrace and the Resistance leader himself. “This was not what I expected,” she said after a moment, “but you have my loyalty, Evfra. I think it will take time for people to adjust to…”

“You do not have mine,” Ashae interrupted loudly, taking a step back and casting a fierce gaze around the room. “Not everyone is blind to the poison this woman has tainted the heart of our Resistance with! I am no Roekaar,” she sneered, “but I refuse to let the Milky Way aliens drag us to our end!”

“Ashae! We stand with you,” a fighter stepped forward from the crowd and so did others. Many others. Ryder bit her lip. There was no taking back what had happened, but her heart still broke over how many separated from the crowd to join the lieutenant, which was easily over a quarter of everyone assembled there.

“Where will you go?” Evfra asked calmly.

“Away from you,” Ashae responded. “We will build our own Resistance… and defeat the kett without you and those who foolishly place their trust in you!”

“So we are enemies now,” Ryder said sadly.

Ashae snorted. “You never were my friend, human. Have him if you want, just know that you are the reason why our people have divided against themselves here today.”

“Enough!” Evfra forestalled her from continuing. “She isn’t the one recruiting followers or running away. Get out,” he pointed towards the hangar bay and waited until all of them departed before speaking again. “I knew this would happen,” he said to no one in particular.

“I’m sorry,” Ryder said, but she couldn’t help but feel immense satisfaction that she could hug him closer to her in comfort without having to fear who would see the gesture.

“Don’t be,” he said to her, then raised his eyes to everyone remaining. All eyes were on them now, quiet with expectation. “We are different now than we were before,” he said to them, “and our brothers and sisters have left us because they believe in fighting alone. I don’t share that belief and I will still lead you if I still have your trust, but know that from now on we will not do it alone.”

“Are we going to fight them?” someone from the crowd asked. Ryder looked for the owner of the voice and saw that it was Veraan, eyes somber with concern. Clearly he meant Ashae and the fighters that had left with her.

“No,” Evfra replied. “Not unless they give us a reason to.”

“We stand with you to face whatever may come, Evfra, and with the Initiative as our allies,” Veraan replied. Others joined him, echoing his sentiment. Ryder was a little in awe at the intense loyalty in their eyes; maybe Evfra had been right to keep secrets, considering Ashae and her followers, but seeing the response of those who remained warmed her soul. Nothing could take this away from him, not even Firaan could do it and that filled her with satisfaction.

One of the fighters stepped out of the crowd and looked directly at her. “The Resistance stands with the Initiative!” he said loudly, nodding his respect. She returned the gesture, startled and grateful, and more of them repeated the phrase.

“Evfra is our true leader!” a fighter said fiercely, glaring around the room to dare anyone to contradict her. “If he trusts the Pathfinder, then so do I!” More cheers joined her voice.

“It would appear that the Resistance still stands with you,” Anjik said, her expression serious. “Voeld is yours to command, Evfra. It always has been. Ashae will not find more allies here while I draw breath.”

“I will not fail you,” Evfra said to the room at large.

Ryder’s eyes searched around the room, a sudden panic seizing her. “Where is Mashiar?” she asked, looking up at Evfra with horror.

“Did anyone see Mashiar leave?” Evfra demanded. There were mutters and exchanged looks, but eventually all shook their heads.

“So Firaan slips away yet again,” Ryder said darkly. “Tajix died for nothing…”

“Tajix is dead?” Evfra asked, voice hardening. Ryder nodded sadly in answer. He considered for a moment, then addressed the room again. “If anyone finds him, he is to be taken dead or alive.”

“What has he done?” Anjik demanded, startled by the severity of the command.

“He has murdered our own and committed treason. It’s a long story,” Evfra said, already looking weary at the prospect of explaining it all. “I will tell you the whole thing later. Before that, we must focus on what we need to do to hold what remains of the Resistance together before Ashae can shatter it completely.”

“As well as help our friends in need?” Ryder asked.

“The Resistance will always stand with its friends,” Evfra smiled. “Especially at the human Pathfinder’s request.”

“Well, this human Pathfinder does request it – don’t even try to resist!” Ryder grinned.

“Your humor has not improved, I see,” Evfra grimaced.

“You know you love it.”

“I do,” he said unexpectedly and Ryder smiled.

Firaan had done his work thoroughly, she thought, looking around the room. The Resistance was divided, skirmishes between the Roekaar and their allies were probably rampant, but they knew who he was now and that would prevent him from continuing the kind of damage he had done so far. Despite all they had failed to accomplish or prevent, Ryder knew one thing for sure as she looked up at Evfra: they would face the coming storm together… and it felt right.

THE END

[Author’s Note: I want to thank my family, my Taoshay @reignitedn7, my family on the BSN and all my wonderful readers – your comments, likes, exclamations and affections you have poured into R&D are what made it real and kept it alive, thank you for spending this time with my story! Keep an eye out for me, darling ones, I have plans!]

#mass effect andromeda #evfra de tershaav #fanfic #angst #writers #evfra x ryder

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