#SHE WEARS A SMILE LIKE A LOADED GUN ;; visage

[noctispostmortem-blog]

Do the thing with the chibi generator

[shirtlesssammy]

5x02: Good God, Y'All

Then:

The long reign of Lucifer has begun

Now:

Bobby’s in the hospital --and in a wheelchair. Sam and Dean hover outside his door, and Dean shows Sam x-rays of the Enochian warding they have carved on their ribs.

(I briefly wondered if the carvings would show up on an x-ray, and then thought they’re Enochian symbols placed there by an angel, and stopped sweating the details.) 

Sam gets a call from Cas, who apparently is wondering where they are. Lol, poor boy can’t see Sam and Dean now that he’s warded them from angels. It’s okay, Cas. Dean’s yearning for you becomes so strong over the years, you’ll always know how to find him. Anyway, they start to bicker before Bobby puts the kibosh on it, demanding that Cas heal him. 

Cas is cut off from Heaven. He can’t heal Bobby. Convenient plot development, but really sad. He then turns to Sam and Dean (because he’s more angel than human still, and very much on a mission) and tells Dean that there’s someone who can beat Lucifer other than Michael: God. 

For Sweet Summer Child Science:

Classic Dialog Alert:

Dean: Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.

Cas :No, he's not on any flatbread.

More Classic Dialog Alert:

Cas: I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you.

Every time I watch this scene, I need a moment.

Bobby tries to break the tension by asking what Cas wants. Cas continues to stare at Dean from two inches away but eventually breaks the eye contact and tells Bobby he’s looking for an amulet. “It burns hot in God’s presence.” (Only if he didn’t turn it off!) It’s the Samulet that he wants, and he’s going to stare at Dean and talk in a gravelly voice until he gives it up. 

Dean gets naked in front of Cas. 

Cas flaps out on his hunt for God. 

Rufus, who appears to be on a hunt gone bad, calls Bobby. He’s in River Pass, Colorado and the town’s full of demons. Sam and Dean head out to investigate. 

They get to the town’s bridge-- and it’s blown to bits. No cell signal either. They walk the rest of the way and enter a seemingly empty town, abandoned cars notwithstanding. 

They’re eventually greeted by Ellen --and a facefull of holy water and a gun. 

She takes them to the basement of a church, where there’s a group of people gathered. She tells them that Rufus was in town, so her and Jo came. They couldn’t find Rufus and her and Jo got separated. Sam looks at the people in the room and says they need to get them out of here. Ellen says they’ve tried --but people keep getting killed off. 

Sam and Dean head out to get more guns and find Jo and Rufus. Once alone, Dean hesitates having Sam go with him, but Sam insists. They split up once outside to gather what they need. 

While Sam is in the store stocking up on salt, two demons wander in. A fight ensues. Sam guts both of them (AND OOF. They’re not demons.) Sam realizes it almost right away. Dean walks in then and sees what went down. 

Judgement clouds his face. 

Back at the church, Gun 101 begins. Sam reflects on killing the people and how he wishes they could go back to saving people. Ellen interrupts and tells them she’s heading back out to find Jo. Sam wants to go as well. Dean doesn’t trust his brother around demons but Sam wins that fight and heads out with Ellen. 

Sam and Ellen start walking, and discuss the rift between Sam and Dean. Then Sam notices smoke from a chimney. 

Sam and Ellen lurk around the newly discovered stronghold. Sam’s suspicious - demons don’t get cold so why do they have a fire lit in the fireplace? Suddenly they’re attacked...by Jo! She calls her mother an “evil skank” which is certainly a LOT to unpack. Ellen watches black eyes flash in the eyes of her daughter. Meanwhile, Jo demands that the “black eyed bitch” possessing her mom vacate the premises. HMMMMM. Ellen escapes while poor Head Trauma Sam gets knocked out by Rufus and captured. 

Sam wakes up to Jo and Rufus preparing to interrogate the heck out of him. Their exorcism...does not go well.

Ellen returns to the compound without Sam. She lays out the recap for Dean, and focuses on Jo’s accusation that Ellen is a demon. They try to figure out why Rufus pegged this town for a hunt.

Rufus was drawn to town by the sudden pollution of the river. No, it wasn’t a tour bus dumping human waste into a river! It was something far more insidious. A bright shooting star shot through the sky the same night the river turned foul. Dean heads for the bible and finds the proper passage in Revelations: the star was Wormwood, and it’ll bring ruin. The priest is appalled. Is Dean FOR REAL talking about the apocalypse???? War rides a red horse, and “red horse” reminds Dean of the cherry red mustang parked downtown. Folks, we’ve met our first Horseman of the Apocalypse! (This is so Good Omens it hurts...but I guess there’s only so much to be done with the biblical source material.)

Dean puts it all together: War is pitting them against each other, making all the humans in the town think the other group are demons. 

War confronts Sam. 

War’s wearing the visage of a local, so he can watch the show up close. He confirms that there are no demons. He’s just having a little fun. 

War gets into Sam’s head and tells him that he knows Sam is jonesing for a blood fix. Urgh. Before he leaves, War spins his ring around and blood begins to trickle down his forehead. While Sam’s still looking on gormlessly, War hurls himself to the ground like he just got attacked. When Jo and Rufus burst in, War tells them the others are coming for them and Sam gets knocked across the skull AGAIN. 

Dean isn’t faring much better. The other people are more interested in fighting than accepting what Dean’s trying to sell: that the demons aren’t real and War is just some dude bopping around town. 

Roger, aka War, bursts in. He tells them the other contingent is ready to attack. It’s time to fight! When Dean tries to contradict War, he spins his ring. Suddenly, all the other people in the room are angling to kill Dean and Ellen, who they now see as demon spawn.

Dean and Ellen scamper the hell out of there, while War smiles after them. 

Everybody in the compound loads up on live ammo, while across town Rufus sets up pipe bombs along the perimeter. Jo has second thoughts about blowing her mother into pieces, but Rufus is resolute.

As our two murder teams converge, one of the bombs at the window blows. It’s Dean and Ellen breaking in! They try to talk down Jo and Rufus. Dean tells Rufus that War is responsible and slowly, Rufus watches the black drain away from Dean’s eyes. 

Just as the four of them enjoy a happy reunion, the other townspeople arrive. Dean frees Sam, and they confer on the nature of War. Most significantly, they agree that the ring appears to be War’s ticket to power. 

People on both sides begin to shoot at each other. Fortunately, they’re all terrible shots and miss each other. Until the priest goes down, that is. Rufus grouchily personally disarms the people of the house after they fail to follow orders to lay down weapons - and honestly is it too much to ask that Rufus have some OBEDIENT soldiers under his command??? 

Dean and Sam corner War at his car. 

They pin War down and slice the fingers off his hand - including the one with the ring. Suddenly, everyone stops fighting and hallucinating demons and there are many RAGRETS. War disappears, but his ring remains. 

Dean suggests tossing the ring into Mount Doom and I high five him.

Sam’s not into the levity. He knows Dean doesn’t trust him and this hunt made him realize that he doesn’t trust himself either. Sam decides to leave hunting. Dean offers Sam THE IMPALA because he will literally give anything and everything for Sam, oh my god. Sam practices safe choices, and hitches a ride with a stranger, instead.

The One Quote to Rule Them All:

Went to radiology. Got some glamour shots

Enough foreplay

I killed two angels this week - my brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world and I lost everything. For nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.

Great. Now I feel naked

This isn't X-Files, pal

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[kaijulvl5]

Escape from the Green (What price my life?)

***WARNING: Non-con elements. Please do not read if non-con, non-con bondage, or situation appropriate violence is a trigger for you.***

Hard M - Explicit content

After he had shot and killed her partner and aimed the same weapon at her, she had turned and run for the pod. The violence of it all had blanked her mind, a protective blackout that activated her lizard-brain and sent her fleeing at top speed. Luckily, the dangerous man had not followed, and she was able to retreat to the relative safety of the drop pod.   

In a panic that bordered on hysteria, she had followed the instruction manual and managed to get it prepped for launch. Then, just as she thought she would actually make it off this poisoned moon, something in the fundamental internals fried and she was left stranded. Without a working knowledge of ship repair, the craft was no more useful to her than a tent. The disappointment and despair she felt had almost broken her. 

Half a cycle later, she had burned through the remaining stores of food and water they hadn’t taken with them, and was left with some crappy narcotic gum she found in a folderbin. The only effect of that escapade had been to let her forget her hopeless situation for an hour or two.

As she completed her latest fruitless rummage, steps sounded on the entry stairs. The outer hatch slammed and the scrubber fans began processing. Panic overtook her once more. That noise meant she had only a moment to grab the rifle and slide behind the inadequate cover of the pilot’s seat, past the low center bulkhead, before the intruder got into the cabin. 

Tucked as far back as she could get, she shifted the safety off. Instead of the telltale whine, the gun remained silent. She was still fuzzy from the after effects of the gum, so it took a split second to register what was wrong. A curt shake of her head to clear it, and it came back to her. Oh SHIT! She hadn’t restored the charge! Shit shit shit. She repeated the curse in her mind as she clicked the charge cartridge into the loading piece. Why hadn’t she locked the outside hatch when she came back? A self-castigating litany played in her head with each turn of the small rotating lever that added a little power to the cartridge, added a little hope to her rushed plan to get the upper hand.

Without a loaded firearm, there was no possibility of competing against anything on this moon. She had always tried to make the most of her small size, but being just over 1.6 meters tall and 42 kilos was a challenge on the best days. And the only other human she had seen still alive was the murderer. The man who had tried to rob her partner and then, when the tables turned and then turned again, had brutally gunned him down in cold blood. That had to be who was coming through the hatch. 

She cycled the crank one more time and jammed the magazine into the body of the weapon. The firing bolt clicked and she thumbed off the safety right as his helmet and shoulders cleared the opening. And the goddamned contraption stayed silent. Shit. There was nothing she could do. If the charge hadn't been completed, the piece was useless. 

He led with the pistol, getting his bearings. Slowly, methodically he scanned the small space. The environment suit he wore was ungainly and the half textile helmet fell slightly forward or to the side, depending on how he moved. It looked like it was hard to wear. 

“Stop right there!” She yelled, deciding a bluff was her only option. “Stop moving and put the thrower down or I will shoot!”

He actually scrambled backward up against the wall, but did not drop the gun. Instead, he stared her down, having found her position quickly. As he carefully examined every detail of the scene, a slow, cocky smile stretched his face. “I can observe from here, your thrower is not primed, sweetheart. I do believe I have the upper hand at this particular moment.”

His self-satisfied smirk, the casual condescending endearment, and the calm way he drawled the words slapped her. Her face fell and the blood drained from her head. She felt faint, but somehow managed to keep herself upright. 

“So I will be seein’ you place your weapon on the floor, and now, I might add. Do it.” There was an uncompromising hardness in his eyes as he commanded her. His aim did not waver. 

There was no choice. She lowered the energy rifle to the floor, then raised her hands over her head. She wished she were wearing her heavy environmental suit and not the soft loungewear she had changed into hours ago. The normally modest top rode up and left part of her belly exposed. Her pants were loose around her hips, but the light blue fabric clung to her skin. She felt like she was on display and it added another knot to her stomach. 

The murderer’s gaze had changed when she revealed herself. A troublesome interest played across his face as he watched her. Settling comfortably against the bulwark, he looked like the cat who had found the proverbial bowl of cream.

“I do not wish for this to be an unfriendly occasion, but we have something of accord to come to. You see, I am in a predicament. I cannot leave on my own ship. The series of unfortunate events that have led me to your doorstep left me deprived of transportation. You, on the other hand have this decrepit drop pod, but it may prove to be my salvation.”

She noticed he had said “my”, not “our” and she refused to be removed from the equation. Interjecting when he paused to draw a breath, she said simply, “Don’t leave me here”. 

His eyes glittered, crinkling up at the corners, “Now, my sweet girl, I would not dream of such a thing. This is a part of our accord, of which we have just begun to negotiate.” 

He meant to negotiate with her, as if she had any power or something of value in this situation. Her jaw hung ajar with surprise. He was the one with the weapon. He could push her out of the airlock or take her, whichever was his will, then fix the ship and leave without a second glance if he wanted. This made no sense.

He looked at her thoughtfully, smiling amiably, “Do please close your mouth. That slack jawed visage is not becomin’ on you.” 

Her teeth made an audible click when she snapped it shut. “What do you want?” She asked pointedly.

At her question, his face turned mocking, tinged with interest and not a little humor. His eyebrows drew together and he pressed his head back against the wall, a moue evident on his lips. “For starters, I would dearly like to be free of this godforsaken helmet. However, I do not think you will allow me a moment of security in which to remove it. So let us proceed with your disablement. Please take this and assist me in bindin’ yourself.” With his free hand he tossed her a hank of light cording that he had detached from his suit. 

She held the rope, not sure what he wanted her to do. It was not her custom to tie herself up. Her confusion must have been evident, because he said, “Make a slip knot with a loop. Yes, like that. Now place your hands in the loop and tighten it down, just so.” He nodded as she followed his direction. 

His features shifted from pleasant to grim so quickly, it was hard for her to read his expressions. Her hands shook as she complied. Each step in the process pulled her farther from freedom. Not that she had had any hope of that even before his arrival, though. Her feeling of doom grew and she tried to watch for any weakness, but he stayed at the other side of the room. Too far for her to make an effective move against him. 

“Thank you. I will take it from here,” he said.

Faster than she thought possible, he pushed off from his falsely relaxed sprawl and closed the space between them. There was no time to react before her wrists were clasped in his left hand, his small firearm placed hard against her abdomen. 

When he held her securely, he let his thrower hang from his trigger finger and bound her wrists tightly with the rest of the cord. She tried to jerk away from his harsh, bruising grasp, but he gave her a vicious shake that rattled her body. There was no question in her mind after that. She was not strong enough to pull free. 

From there he pushed her into the copilot’s seat and strapped her in, positioning her tied arms so that they were further restrained under the X-shaped harness. Then he yanked the adjusters hard, securing her and spun the chair to face the center of the room. Satisfied with his work, he stood up and removed his helmet in a single fluid motion. 

“Kevva be damned, but that was unpleasant,” he declared gustily, breathing in a deep lungful of the air in the shelter. “My filter has been fouled for some time and I was approachin’ the end of my ability to draw breath in this putrid thing.” 

He smiled at her again, showing straight, white teeth. His dark moustache made them look brighter than they should have been. He appeared to be in his early forties with short, messy hair, which was brown except for a small patch of blonde at the hairline above his right eye. A thin U-shaped scar curled across his left cheek and his sharp nose, high cheekbones and scruffy chin were sheened with the sweat. A thoroughly disreputable person, if she had ever seen one.

“What. Do. You. Want?” She asked again, this time through gritted teeth. Her will to continue requesting information was growing thin. He seemed to want to talk about only the subject he wished at any given moment. And talk he did. 

He said, “I have a proposal for you, little bird,” his tone contemplative. He paced the small space and lifted his hands, gesturing philosophically. “You ask me what I want and I want many things. I want to be off this damned hell hole. I want to be divested of my harvest in such a way that leaves me well provided for and provisioned for the future.” He stalked toward her, his eyes thoughtful, roaming her face. 

“Wants are funny things,” he continued. “A thought gets in your head and can’t be shaken and then you find yourself wanting. I want to take a cabana on the shores of Lao, to watch the suns set and put all thought of this awfulness behind me. I want all the comforts credits can buy and long, warm days and nights in which to enjoy them. I also find that I want,” he paused, bracing his weight as he gripped the arms of the seat. His face was inches from hers. He looked her squarely in the eyes and said frankly,” I also find that I want...you.”

She was shocked into silence for the second time in only a few moments. What could she say? Did he think he could buy her? Did he think he had a chance of her not trying to take his life the moment he let his guard down? Life was cheap in this system and he could have his pick of feminine company back at the Pug, or whatever sleazy world he would hie off to from here. What could he want with her?

“By your yet again drop-jawed demeanor, I assume it is a rare occurrence that someone expresses to you their designs on your person,” he said. He tilted his head back and eyed her quizzically. The long, strong column of his throat was exposed to her shocked gaze. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she rasped. She blinked, trying to break her fascination with his audacity, presenting his vulnerable throat so close to her. He must believe her to be well in hand, indeed. She wriggled in the seat, but couldn’t gain an inch. Her lips were dry and her head was spinning. “I don’t understand,” she said.

He inclined his head toward her, as if imparting a secret, “This may come as a surprise to you, but I am a man with needs, just like any other. You are here, convenient, of the feminine persuasion and, if I do say so myself, appear to be quite delectable.” He suggestively ran the back of a gloved hand from her cheek down her neck. He paused for a beat at her shoulder, then continued over her breast to the swell of her hip, finally resting his open palm there. His fingers curled posessively into her yielding flesh. 

“I believe you will be able to assist me in that regard, should we come to an agreement. I also wish to attain my goals of escape and sales of my aurelac with all of my parts intact. In short, I want to have my cake and eat it too.” He grinned as if he was saying the simplest things in the world to an equal, not manhandling a captive. 

He was wrong about her rarely being propositioned. That wasn’t the case. It was just that no one ever talked to her or handled her that way when she couldn’t run away. Every other time that she had been confronted with this type of attention, she had been able to duck and run. She had eluded the rough hands and catcalls of the prospectors and hub toughs by hightailing it away from them. This man with his hands on her, making such suggestions was worse than those assholes, by far. He was responsible for her friend’s death and he had her tied and helpless, dependent on him in every way. He held the power of life or death over her and there was nowhere to run this time. 

She found her voice, hoarse and hesitating, ”You will get us off this rock and away safe if I, um...” She swallowed dryly and looked down to where his hand still rested heavily on her body. She found she could not quite bring herself to say the words. Her tongue peeked out to try to wet her lips, instead.

He looked her up and down, like a big cat considering its prey. His thoughts were obvious on his face. “Yes,” he said.

The brevity of his reply hammered home to her how serious he was. The ideas rushing through her mind gave her pause. It made her feel ill and not a little afraid, but what choice did she have, really? 

“For how long?” She asked, pragmatically. 

“Now that is somethin’ we should revisit frequently, as long as we are acquainted,” he said. Stepping backward, he seated himself on the center bulkhead. Shoulders canted forward, knees open, forearms resting lightly on his thighs, hands loose. A truthful stance, if she could be convinced that anything about this person was truthful. He continued, uninterrupted, “I would expect a period of no less than 30 cycles for you to remain in my company. During that time, you will make yourself available to me to assuage my desires as I see fit. On my part, I assure you, I will expect nothin’ from you that could be considered too far outside the realm of normalcy. You, however, shall retain no such restriction, should you choose to initiate events of your own devising.” he leered at her dangerously. The space between them was not nearly far enough for her liking. “That is fair enough for the exchange of your life and freedom, you will agree?” He asked.

“14,” she rebutted. “14 cycles.” Where had that come from? Was she really going along with this? Who knew what kind of perverted freak he was under all the flowery words? But staying here meant certain death and he didn’t really have to involve her in the decision making process, after all. For all his crimes and questionable behavior, he seemed bent on gaining her agreement, even if it was in all actuality, coerced. 

“21,” he grinned and leaned in close enough that she could smell his sweat and the dirt that clung to his suit. 

“20 cycles, ten points off your sale, and I’m free after,” she tossed quickly, not knowing where she was finding the strength to come back at him like this. He had her tied. He could take what he wanted. He could and she couldn’t stop him. But instead he was negotiating. What kind of man was this?

“Ten points? You are a mercenary after all,” he said, shaking his head. “We have ourselves a deal, birdie,” his smile grew broader, if that was possible. He removed his gloves, took her bound hands in both of his hard callused ones and gave them a brief shake. Then he turned to begin his work on the blackened panels that had billowed smoke much earlier. 

Some time later, he broke from his tinkering and declared, “As good as it will get, I suppose. Let us see if we can throw ourselves from this mortal coil to the waiting orbit which will gain us our future.” 

The starter key had been pulled as part of his repair checks and he now reinserted it. The launch process began. He flicked the switches and primed the machine, the same as she had done, but with a much different result. The mechanism purred quietly and he strapped himself into the pilot’s seat.

Barely a rumble disturbed the quiet pod. These last few moments had been the most peaceful since he had taken over. As he worked, he had not stopped talking. Anecdote after anecdote spilled from his lips as he regaled her. Talking and breathing seemed to be one and the same for this man. After the first half hour of non-stop speech from him, she had ceased giving him her full attention out of self preservation. Anyone who spoke that much could not possibly care if anyone was listening.

Instead, she had thought about her situation. The number of double-crosses leading up to this moment played in her mind. Damon had been greedy, yes, but this man had waylaid him in the first place. It was all too much for her to process, but she was here, now, and she had made a tacit agreement with the ruffian. For some reason, perhaps out of some deep denial, she was beginning to allow herself to believe in this deal they had struck. Nothing to do but bide her time. If an opportunity arose that allowed her to remove herself from the situation, she would take it, deal or no deal.

Trussed as she was, she had lost most of the feeling in her extremities after the second hour, but refused to speak up. Not out of fear this time. No, she remained silent from pure stubbornness, she admitted to herself. Not giving her captor the satisfaction of her needing anything from him was, as she saw it, the only power she held at the moment.

The takeoff was surprisingly uneventful for an aged, abused and overused rental. They attained orbit with the minimum of effort. The craft settled easily into its floating circuit of the green moon, matching the future track of the slingback’s return trip. 

A voice came to her through the disorientation she always experienced when being shot through the air at high speeds. It had never been bad enough that she had actually passed out, but the dark spots were familiar friends. Her eyes opened and she blinked them away. “What?” She slurred. 

He shook her shoulder. “I said, are you with me, girl?” His voice sounded sharp and irritated. The grav-plates had kicked on during stabilization and he stood over her, bending to examine her. He tilted her head back and lifted her eyelids one at a time, checking her pupils. 

She twisted her head away sharply and lifted her eyes to his. She tried to focus on his face. His worried face. He was worried about her? “Yes. I’m here. Just launch sickness. I’ll be fine in a minute.” She blinked hard and stretched her jaw, trying to find her equilibrium. 

“I am pleased to hear that. It would have been an unfortunate thing to have lost you after all the trouble we have gone through. To have it all be for naught would be sore disappointing. But here you are and right as rain by your own admission.” Satisfied that she wasn’t in a worse state than she was letting on, he turned away from her and began the process of removing his environment suit. 

The stories he told while performing the repairs had droned on so long that she had gotten lost in her own head. When they had launched, she was distracted by the physical effect it had on her and had momentarily forgotten her plight. Seeing his broad shoulders being revealed like that brought it all rushing back. He was wearing a thin navy blue shirt, but watching him remove the heavily woven, treated suit signified one less layer of separation between them.             

Her blood ran cold and she closed her eyes tightly. She took the extra precaution of facing the ceiling, trying to deny the situation her attention as long as possible. He would want her to make good on her bargain. Their time “together” had begun. 20 cycles and it would be over. Or sooner, if she had the opportunity. Her face flamed. She was to be his whore, or worse. What price for my life? she thought.

To her surprise, he didn’t approach her immediately. In addition to his pattering, pointless speech, she heard shuffling noises, folderbins opened and closed. It sounded like he was moving around the cabin straightening up. He had launched into another of his stories. This time about a rough takeoff he had experienced off some world or another, during another of his myriad harvests. Truth or fiction, she could not tell. His voice changed places around the room as the other noises subsided and then his steps drew close behind her.

“And so here I am. Another successful pull, minus a few colleagues and on my way again. Lucky to have met you, but have I really met you, girl? I do not even know your name.” She thought he must have seated himself on the same bulkhead as earlier. There was a bump as he disengaged the safety lock and then she felt the chair swivel. He meant for her to face him. Her eyes squeezed even harder. She wouldn’t answer him. Her lips pressed into a firm white line.

“Come now, I must call you somethin’ for the duration. Little bird is fine as an endearment, but as a name it is severely lacking. Do not be obstinate at this late hour,” he entreated. 

What was the point of not giving him my name? She thought. He will probably make one up and call me that if I don’t tell him. Or pry through my journals. “My name is Farra.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Farra. I am Ezra, if you had not gathered that from your eavesdroppin’ expedition in that poxy forest. I would be still better served if you would also open your eyes for me. This is no way to carry on a conversation. Very rude, indeed,” he scolded.

He still had not touched her, and she felt odd with her eyes shut so hard, so she squinted them open a bit. If he wasn’t decent, she would close them quickly and just continue pretending to be blind. But he was wearing a pair of lightweight long john pants and the dark navy t-shirt she had glimpsed earlier. His long, muscular arms were lightly furred, and he had taken a moment in his chores to wipe off some of the accumulated grime from his face and body. He looked almost presentable, if still very dangerous.

“Thank you for that,” Ezra said, smiling warmly at her. “It is disconcerting to speak to a seein’ person who will not acknowledge they are in the same room as the one who is speakin’. I believe we have a few details to hammer out before we get down to brass tacks, as it were.”

Farra’s eyes went wide and she leaned back hard into her seat. Her hands and legs were tingling and she couldn’t make them move. In fear again, fear that hadn’t really left, she said calmly, as if she had any control of anything, “Okay.”

He stood up hastily, startling her further. He put his hands out in front of himself several centimeters apart, palms up, showing her he wasn’t hiding anything. Regardless of his efforts, his approach made her compress herself farther into her seat.

“I just need to check somethin’ here, Farra. Do not be afraid,” he said, as he brushed her hair away from her neck. He gently pushed on the back of her head until she angled it down and away from him. “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “I see you are still current.”

Keeping her fertility inhibitor implant current was a prerequisite of all the outer belt hubs. A woman couldn’t get past onboarding without one, but leave it to a man to not know that. These communities controlled their population strictly and any possibility of adding another life to the stacks was anathema. Supplies were always scarce out here. Food, water, oxygen, all of it had to be carefully calculated and regulated. 

“Of course it is,” she said, looking up at him from an angle, her blond hair falling in her face. “You could have just asked.” A bright red blush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks. So this was how it would go.

“Certainly I could have asked, but would you have told me true?” He asked. “I do not know that you would,” he mused, answering his own question. Switching his focus back to her, he asked abruptly, “How many years do you have?” 

“20 standard,” she answered, matter of factly.

“I see, then. That is favorable, as well. It had not occurred to me to inquire earlier. Your petite size gave me a moment’s concern, but I am glad I judged correctly. I did say that we would commence shortly, didn’t I? Or did I fail to mention…” he trailed off, his attention drifting again.

She shook her head, “I can’t feel my hands. I think the circulation has been cut off for too long, Ezra.” It felt strange to say his name, all things considered. However, if he was going to insist on this “commencing”, as he put it, she didn’t want to be any more impaired than she was at the moment.

“Why did you not say so sooner?” He knelt, bringing his hands to hers, lifting and examining them carefully. “You are white as bone, my dear. This will not do.” He began to loosen the ties, but then stopped suddenly and looked her in the eyes. “Do I have your word that you will behave? I would not want to cause you undue harm through some stupid idea of yours gone wrong.” His eyes narrowed as he said this last.

Farra’s hands were indeed white, having lost circulation some time ago. Even as bent on obstruction as she had been, she was actually becoming concerned about them. “I swear,” she said, earnestly.

“You swear, what?” He asked, forcing her to speak her oath in full.

Reluctantly, Farra swore, “I will not do anything to try to harm you.”

“Or yourself.” Ezra’s voice was solemn and he held her chin firmly, so that she had no choice but to look in his eyes as she spoke.

“I swear I will not do anything to harm you or myself,” she said. 

He was being so in depth about all this. What if she had underestimated him? It would be a revelation if he turned out to be a thinking person, not just the brutal, thieving killer she had originally thought he was. In all her life, Farra had never broken her word. She didn’t want to do so now, but if her life was at stake...she would make that decision when she came to it.

“Alright, then, sweet Farra. Let us get some life back into these diminutive extremities of yours. I cannot have you losin’ limbs in my care.” He completely removed the rope from her wrists. The marks it left were livid against her pallid skin. Living as a floater didn’t give a person a lot of chances to take in much UV and it showed. 

Leaving her still harnessed to the copilot’s seat, Ezra chafed her hands between his. Hers were dead cold, but his hands were warm, if rough and large. After a short time of this, working her fingers back and forth and massaging the blood back in, he placed her hands back in her lap and laid his on them. “Squeeze,” he said.

To her surprise, she did. Weakly, yes, but a moment ago she would have sworn that she wouldn’t have been able to move them at all. “Thank you,” she said, in a moment of real gratitude. He had been so oddly polite this entire time, with his words, at least. It must be rubbing off. 

He studied her carefully. “Now that is somethin’ I thought I would have to wait a much longer time to hear from you, my dear. A genuine thank you.” He moved his gaze to their linked  hands, breaking his serious perusal of her face. “Though I must say, you may regret your momentary lapse before too long. As I said, I intend to make good on our bargain, Farra. Do try to behave and I will endeavor to make my attentions as bearable as possible for you. I am many things, but I am not a cruel man, as a rule.”

She heard what he said, saw his look, felt his hands on hers and resigned herself, finally, to what she imagined was ahead. If she could trust his words, she might not be in for something so horrible as she had been fearing. Regardless, this was not what she wanted. “Fine,” she said flatly, looking anywhere except at him. “What do you want me to do?”   

“You, yourself, need do nothin’. Leave it to me and try to relax.” He said softly, his lips close to her ear. With the same swift efficiency of motion she had seen him use before, he released the harness and pulled her up into his arms. He stood and waited a moment for her to find her feet.

She was a ragdoll. All those hours bound to the chair had made her boneless. She tried to raise her arms and found that folding them around his torso was her only option. He was much taller than she and the crown of her head nestled just below the top of his shoulder.

“Can you stand?” He asked, looking down at her.

His warm body against hers, his lean muscles and strong arms were overwhelming. Too much of him was touching her all at once. She felt fevered and would have fought him, if she had any strength left. Her words had escaped her again. Farra shut her eyes and shook her head against his shoulder. 

“Alright, then.” He scooped her up, one arm under her shoulders and one under her knees. “So high and mighty that she must be ferried everywhere, it seems.” 

His small joke did nothing to calm her nerves. She was still recovering from being restrained, dealing with the feel of him all around her and dreading what awaited her. Her hands, feet and legs tingled madly, almost to the point of pain as the circulation returned. She wrapped her limp arms around his neck for more stability and he carried her the few steps to the aft area of the pod. She noticed that the long flat cushions from the center bulkhead were now on the floor. One of the thin blankets had been spread on them and the meager pillows from the sleep kit placed at the top. A quick peek left and right told her that the rest of the space was neat and tidy. Just as she had suspected from the noises she heard, he had been clearing up. 

He laid her down on the padding and knelt over her. She turned her head away from him. One last attempt at negation of this whole situation she was in. She never should have listened to Damon when he said he was onto a sure thing. 

She felt Ezra’s lips on her bare neck, heard him breath in her scent, and shivered, deeply afraid. I won’t feel this, she thought. Her natural instinct was to fight, bite, claw, do whatever she could to stop this, but she knew she was no match for him, physically. She had to wait him out. Wait for a weak spot. 

Farra tried to block her mind off from her body. She thought about the view from the transport base, rebuilding the scaffolding and the gray-black background of space in her mind. Space and grey steel and stars on a blanket of black, repeating the thoughts over and over in her head.

Ezra undressed her slowly, pulling the loose knit sleep shirt over her head. Farra was bare underneath and her breasts slipped fetchingly from the fabric. The slight chill in the air caused her nipples to tighten and firm up like pink pearls against the sun-deprived translucence of her skin. He could see clearly the large vein that ran diagonally across her chest and traced it back and forth with one finger. Trailing the tips of his fingers down her chest, he felt gently along her ribcage to wrap around the dip of her waist, lingering in that space. He kept his hands there and passed his thumbs back and forth over her skin, tantalizingly faint. Then he began moving again, grazing her with his fingernails, drawing them up and down, creating pale pink lines from her belly to her collarbone, stimulating every nerve. 

Where his hands went, his mouth followed. Light kisses, pressing his lips to her skin, sometimes nipping with his teeth. Each caress was designed to set her skin on fire. He traced the line of her jaw and raked through her hair, spreading it out around her head. She tried desperately to stay still through all of this, but his lips and his hands were impossible to ignore. 

She gasped, pulled from behind her mental block by sensations she had never experienced before. His touch was so considerate, enticing, in the exploration of her body that she couldn’t ignore it. She had expected an onslaught. A violent taking. Not this slow progression of caresses, this careful manipulation. What she felt was so foreign and she couldn’t block it out. It felt…good. 

Ezra caught her attention returning to him and smiled at her until she opened her eyes and acknowledged him. His hands did not stop roaming her exposed body. She was so pliant, delicate, like the rarest flower petal. He took the opportunity provided by her shift in interest to reach an arm behind her back and arch her up to him. He framed her breast with his large hand and teased her nipple with a gentle pinch.

Farra drew in a sharp breath and stared up at Ezra. His smile, so infectious, became a glow as he saw that he had reached her. Her reactions were delicious, just as he had hoped. 

“Since it seems you have deemed me not totally abhorrent, would you be so kind as to assist me with my wardrobe?” He asked her, speaking against the space below her collarbone. The crown of his dark head rested just below her chin. 

Her answer was to gather his shirt and lift it slowly over his head. As she did so, his hands encircled her wrists, ready to immobilize her if she made a false move. So he doesn’t actually trust me, she thought. Smart.

She proceeded to remove the thin piece of clothing from his body, but before he released her wrists, he moved lower and took her small bud of a nipple into his mouth, sucking slightly. She moaned and arched under him, urging him to take her deeper. He smiled against her breast and obliged her, teasing the skin of her areola with his tongue. 

Until that moment, he had been lying next to her, half over and half off of her body. He hadn’t wanted to be too demanding too quickly. She was so obviously afraid of him, of this. He may have been a scoundrel, but he was not a brute. Now, her active participation showed him that he could be a bit more aggressive. He moved to cover her completely, his legs on either side of hers, arms bracing his weight, elbows on the mattress.

Farra hadn’t taken her eyes off of him once. Not since she had opened them with a moan and let him continue without fighting him. Now he was directly above her. His strong thighs bracketed her body and he closed the distance between them. They were breathing the same air. She could smell his breath, sharp and clean, and feel the warmth of it as he hovered there, so near her mouth. 

“I know we did not address this in our parlay,” he said quietly, his voice gravelly. “But I’m sure you know that a kiss is customary in these situations, and is considered quite within the bounds of normalcy. I will be making this a regular occurrence, Farra, and I do not want any surprises.” 

Farra was taken aback by his statement, the idea that even now he was referencing their accord, negotiating and probing with his words. Her response was to nod her head. She was delirious with sensation and it hadn’t even occurred to her to try to escape after those first few moments after he had laid her down. Her skin felt alive, and what he did to her body… If he wanted to do more, she wasn’t going to stop him. 

Confident that he had gained her compliance, that she wouldn’t bite or hurt him, Ezra grazed her mouth with his, as lightly as he had stroked her with his thumbs. He brushed her lips with his, a little harder with each pass. He drew her lower lip between his and sucked, just a little and when she opened her mouth, he tasted her. Lapping at her with his tongue, he mimed the penultimate act, in and out, he licked her there. She moaned and grazed her teeth over his tongue as he kissed her harder. 

This was nothing like her previous experiences. This musing progression. She knew from the vids and the foldies what this was all about. A girl couldn’t make it to age twenty and not know. Sex was everywhere, easy access, but she had never met “the one”. Her head was always in a book, or a flight manual, or learning the next gutter trade to get her to the next float. The rough touches and stolen kisses from the crass men she had been stuck with on the stations were nothing like this. She panicked and laid her hands flat against his firm chest. “I… I have to say something,” she said, turning her head from his kisses. 

“Then say it, girl,” he replied, holding his forehead to hers. “The hour draweth nigh.” Serious words, but his eyes twinkled and the lines at the corners multiplied. 

“I’ve never…,” she whispered, and this time it was his turn to be shocked. 

Ezra lifted himself a few centimeters, his eyebrows raised, and interjected, “Now, do not tell me that I may have the privilege to be your first experience in the art of love? That can not possibly be the case. For a beauty such as you to have remained unspoiled for all this time in this great world of trouble, would be a miracle indeed.” 

Farra, whose speech seemed to desert her at every turn, nodded at him solemnly. 

He balanced on one forearm and stroked his other hand down the side of her face to cup her chin. “Then I have struck an invaluable bargain, indeed, sweet Farra.” 

Hearing her name in his needy whisper made her shiver. This time with anticipation and not the persistent undermining terror she had felt before. This moment, this situation was right. Even if everything else had been so, so wrong. She did want this, she wanted him, after all. The apprehension and horror she had experienced over the last two cycles faded to the back of her mind and she raised her lips to his, lifting herself up from the floor to feel his body all along her own.

The growling moan that her capitulation wrenched from him was erotic in the extreme. The sound low and guttural, full of wanting. He redoubled his efforts, caressing, kissing her, pressing her down into the flat cushions with his strong, athletic body. They were still half clothed and he was quickly becoming frustrated with that fact.

He moved against Farra and slid his hand behind her, under the waistband of her pajamas and cupped her buttock. He kneaded her supple ass, the movement of his hand lowering her bottoms, exposing more and more of her body to his touch. 

She was so caught up in pleasure, that she wasn’t aware of being completely naked under him until he lifted her legs one at a time so that he was on his knees between them. He sat back on his heels, watching her.

Ezra ceased touching her and stayed there, like a man at a holy altar. Farra was spread out on the floor, eyes glazed and unfocused, hair a mess, splayed around her head like a gold halo, her chest heaving. The fierce hammer of her heart was clear in the vibration of the yielding arc of her breasts. Her waist and belly perfectly curved, the triangle of curls over her sex glistened with the wetness he had teased from her.

For once, Ezra seemed to be at a loss for words. Instead of his usual persuasive staccato, he simply reached forward and took her hands, placing them on his narrow hips above the waistband of his pants. The invitation implied, not spoken aloud. If this was what she wanted, if this was something more than a mercenary bargain, he wanted her to take the next step. 

Farra hooked her fingers into the elastic and pulled with no hesitation. His cock sprang free of the fabric, erect and laid nearly flat against his body. He was that hard. For me, she thought, and unconsciously wet her lips. She couldn’t look away. 

When she licked her lips, his penis gave a small jerk and he said, “We will have time for that later, my dear. For now let us just enjoy this languorous initiation.” His grin couldn’t have been wider.

She looked up at him, not completely understanding his reference at first. Then it hit her and her face, neck and breasts flushed. The bright color spread under her pallor, but she smiled back at him and laughed a little. It was all the invitation he needed. 

Ezra lowered himself until he was resting part of his weight on Farra’s small frame, their bellies together. Her feet were planted on the floor and her knees rose on either side of his hips as he lay between them. His hard length rubbed against her pubic hair and the wetness over her clitoris. She was so sensitized that she drew in a quick breath at the contact. She took advantage of having him right above her to kiss him there. His silky chest hair tickled her lips and she did it again, a little harder. His sharp intake of breath was music to her ears. 

He locked eyes with her as he reached between them, drawing his fingers over her slick vulva. The hot, wet folds parted easily and he slid his middle finger farther inside without any resistance. He held her gaze as he stroked her insistently. 

Farra made sharp keening noises she was not even aware of. She tried to lift her hips, to take more of him into herself, needing the feeling of, something, inside her. But he held her firmly to the floor, not letting her move. This was his show and she was the object of his attention. Right now, he would do what he wanted, and she would accept it. 

“Just relax, sweetheart. Give me a little of your trust. Upon my oath, you will not regret it,” he uttered into the shell of her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth and pulled gently.

She did relax, then, against all odds, and let his touch and the barest rake of his teeth on her skin take her to new heights. Her hands roamed his sleek, muscled back, over the sharp wings of his shoulder blades. She reveled in the feel of his skin. It was damp with perspiration, but smooth under her fingertips and so wonderfully warm.

He moved his finger in and out of her, and Farra felt some discomfort. Not enough to override the pleasure, but a mild pinch inside of herself. Her vagina was so tight around him, as it was, but he added another finger, scissoring and stretching her further. Ezra worked her like that, getting her used to him. 

She was so slick that he gasped against her breast, where he was kissing her, worshipping her. His thumb brushed her most sensitive bud and she bucked against him involuntarily. Ezra’s grip on her kept her from moving much, but she was entranced with every sensation. Something was building inside of her and she had never felt this way before.

Their bodies writhed together, the perspiration from their shared actions making them glow under the sensor lights. Farra hooked her legs behind Ezra’s back, ran her hands over his shoulders and finally found her voice.

“Please, Ezra. Please, I want...I want you to…” She breathed.

He couldn’t resist this opportunity to make her acknowledge her need, “What do you want, Farra?” He asked, and pushed into her, holding still. Withholding his caresses and any further stimulation. 

She bit her lip and her eyes rolled upward, “I want you,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t have to say it.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Farra?” He asked harshly. 

“Yes,” she groaned, trying to make him push his fingers further into her needy hole.

“Then ask me nicely. Say please. Say it for me,” he demanded, ravaging her throat, leaving dark suckling marks as he kissed her.

“Please fuck me,” Farra begged him. “Please, please fuck me!” She was so far gone that she would have said anything to him to get to the peak she felt was just outside of her grasp. To make his hands move over her body again. 

With that, Ezra began to guide his thick length inside her. His earlier efforts had gotten her pussy so wet that her creamy juices flowed around his rock hard cock and coated her all the way down her ass. He shut his eyes and beads of sweat gathered at his hairline as he tried to hold himself in check. Her walls clenched around the tip of his swollen member pressing into her, deeper and deeper, chasing that sensation of her body’s need for him. 

Farra panted repeatedly, “Oh, oh, oh,” like a chant. She tried to do as he had said and willed herself to relax as he invaded her body. The stretch of him inside of her was such a strong, sweet feeling, but he was so big. The slickness he had coaxed from her was her only salvation. She kept her hips still under his, not wanting to ruin anything through her inexperience. The muscles inside of her were firing rhythmically, the way they did when she touched herself in private. It had always felt good when she used her fingers on herself, but this was much more powerful. The friction of his hot, hard cock inside of her raised that feeling to new peaks. 

Ezra paused as he felt resistance against the sensitive head of his penis, knowing he would hurt her, but wanting this too much. She had begged him, for Kevva’s sake! He also trusted that he could bring her back, too, to the pleasure he felt coursing around him. The shiver of her body under his as he took her told him that her need was great. 

“Little bird,” he said gravely, using the name to hopefully show her this was not a mean thing he intended to do. “Little bird, there will be some pain for you now, but that is the way of the world. I do not take joy in this, but if you will trust me, joy we may have.” He gazed at her earnestly, his eyes centimeters from her own. He held her immobile under him as he waited, in pain and pleasure, for her acknowledgement. 

Farra nodded and Ezra claimed her mouth in a deep kiss as he thrust himself fast into her. The sharp pain drew a cry from her, but it was muffled by his lips on hers. She felt so full, so overstimulated. The pain subsided quickly, but it was still a shock after all the indulgent touches and sweet pleasure he had brought from her body. 

When her breathing became regular again, Ezra allowed himself to slide in and out in slow strokes. He angled his movement to drag himself across her clitoris, building her arousal again. She arched her back with each thrust, each time drawing him over that part of her that was more alive than she had ever been able to achieve before. Instinctively, she moved with him, as he delved harder into her pussy. 

He began to talk to her then, but she couldn’t keep up with what he was saying. Filthy things he wanted to do to her, descriptions of what he was doing that moment, how she felt, wrapped around him, her wetness, her drooling cunt, he called it. How he loved to feel her squeezing his cock. He went on and on. She shuddered and felt herself coming apart. Her pussy clenched and tightened, drawing his length into her again and again as she saw stars and swirls of color behind her eyelids. Her whole body tingled and vibrated and she cried out over and over, “Oh!! Oh my god!” as she came. 

The overwhelming feelings were still at their peak when she felt Ezra change from his steady rhythm with a sharp cry. He began thrusting into her harder even than before, holding her body to his firmly.  His actions drew more and stronger contractions from her dripping hot pussy and she screamed in earnest; a wordless expression of her overwhelming pleasure as she felt the searing wetness of his cum spurt inside of her. He seated himself fully inside of her, withdrawing only slightly each time his cock pulsed against her walls, nearly in time with her own internal spasms. They wound down their movements in sync, slowing and then finally ceasing altogether. 

Ezra collapsed on top of her, completely spent. They lay there, wet from their exertion and arousal, exhausted. Farra smiled when she realized he had actually stopped talking. 

“Hey,” she said, after a minute or two of the silence. Her voice cracked, “You’re kind of crushing me.” The air had been pushed out of her lungs and she had trouble drawing a breath under the weight of him. 

His arms shook as he lifted himself off her and shifted to her side, disengaging their bodies. Ezra was flushed underneath his naturally olive skin color, and his hair was soaked with sweat. Farra lay flat, breathing deeply, and he adjusted himself to rest his head on her chest. 

How interesting, she thought. She felt his need to be held almost psychically. It was as if the afterglow of their lovemaking had given her some odd insight into this contradiction of a man. He spoke and spoke, and said utterly filthy things to her, used her body and made her feel so many things in the process. He killed and stole and bargained. And all along, some part of him craved this. He needed this attention from her.

This is an essential thing to him, she thought, and wrapped her arm around his neck, draping it over his shoulder, gathering his overheated body to hers. He laid his arm over her abdomen and cuddled her close. The light from the primary planet reflected through the window, illuminating both of them, naked and spent on the floor of their tiny pod. 

[mhafanfics19]

Ch.6 Fall for the Devil

"She wore a smile like a loaded gun." ~Atticus

You're currently making your way back to the hideout, Shigaraki had sent you on a supply run for some training camp raid he had briefly mentioned.

The whole trip didn't take as long as you had originally planned for, you weren't complaining though, it just meant you could get back to Dabi faster.

As the weeks passed you both had started dating, it was a little sudden, but being villains any day could be the last time you see eachother.

So when he asked if you wanted to make it official you jumped at the idea, sure you had arguments like everyone does, but at the end of it you always made up.

Just as you begin to enter the bar, a sudden force almost knocks you over, your gaze landing on the familiar black and grey mask belonging to Jin.

"Jin, what the fuck dude? Are you alright, is something wrong?" The irritation that had sparked at the action diminishes when Jin removes his mask, your eyes meeting worried bluish-grey ones, brows furrowing at the distressed look plastered on his features.

"I'm sorry, I'm fine but please don't go in the bar. You won't be! Go in!" Concern bubbles up inside you, thinking Jin had done something wrong, you gently grab his hands giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"Whatever happened, we can fix it together okay? Everything will be taken care of before the others get back."

Jin realizes you have no idea of what's happening on the other side of that door, the rest of the league members had left to recruit new people for the raid, all except Dabi. The burnt male hadn't known Jin was still there when he brought her in, that's why he had pushed you so aggressively outside, Jin knew what would happen if you found out.

"Y/n please, I'm begging you don't go in, I don't want you to get hurt." At his words a creeping suspicion rises in you, the only other person here is Dabi, this wasn't about Jin.

"Jin. Let me through, I promise I won't get hurt, everything will be fine." A smile, that doesn't quite reach your eyes, slithers onto your visage. You understand why he didn't want you inside, you are a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them.

Reluctantly, he moves out of the way allowing you to enter the place you call home, an undeniable sound reaching your ears. A woman calling out Dabi's name, the sound makes your blood boil, though on the outside that smile never falters.

Your legs carry you purposefully to your so called boyfriend's room, the door is ripped from it's hinges, from the force of you literally kicking it down. Bile seeps into your throat at the sight, Dabi is in his boxers, while the woman straddling him is only wearing her undergarments.

The woman looks at you, a sly smirk gracing her features, green eyes size you up before she turns to Dabi. "That's your girlfriend? No wonder you wanted someone like me, why don't you tell her how good I make you feel?"

Blistering rage overpowers you as you stalk towards the woman, in a swift movement, her hair is wrapped around your hand as she is dragged off Dabi and towards the middle of the bar.

"Y/n! Stop, you don't need to hurt her! Kill her!"

Jin‘s frantic plea falls on deaf ears as you toss her onto the cold floor. She scrambles to her feet, for every step she takes back you take one forward, this continues until she is only feet away from the wall.

Large amounts of borrowed electricity from the bar come rushing towards you. Dabi's voice sounds off behind you, his once carefree tone now laced with what sounds like concern.

"Y/n stop, we can talk about this she's an innocent person, this is my fault. I know you don't want to kill her, doll."

The fake smile on your face contorts into a malicious grin, lightning sparks around your body as you shift to face him. "Oh Dabi, of course i want to kill her! I really, really do." Your eyes return to the woman in front of you, the moment her face morphs into recognition and fear is almost addicting, she knows exactly who you are.

"Inazuma..oh god, please don't hurt me! It was all just an act I swear! We never did anything before you showed up!"

Slowly approaching her frozen body, lightning still dancing around your figure, you step behind her your orbs locking on to Dabi's. Gripping her hair tightly you roughly pull her head back, whispering the last words she will ever hear, all the while your voice is as sweet as honey.

"Do me a favor beautiful, burn for me."

Jolts of lightning make direct contact with her body, after a few violent spasms her screams stop, releasing your grip on the charred remains your eyes follow as they crumble to the ground.

"Good girl."

A wicked smile plays on your lips, your words send a chill through the two males that had just witnessed the ruthless act of violence. Your sense of victory is cut short, agonizing pain immediately shoots through your body sending you to your knees.

Lichtenberg figures begin to appear, they were worse than normal due to the proximity of the attack.

"Fuck! Y/n, are you okay?" Dabi's hand gently grabs your shoulder, you recoil under his touch, shakily standing up your eyes stare into his.

"I should kill your pathetic ass just like her, you make me fucking sick. If you ever lay a hand on me again I will kill you with no hesitation. Do you understand me? Whatever we were is over, you're nothing more than a pig."

Not caring to hear his response, you exit the bar, your body swaying from exhaustion and the various emotions invading your mind. Before you can make it to the end of the alley, you lose your balance stumbling sideways into the brick wall, giving into the need to relax you slide down it.

Your eyes betray you, as hot tears pour from them, an unfamiliar ache in your chest makes it feel like your heart is physically shattering.

What Dabi did destroyed you more than you would ever admit, one of the most wanted criminals in Japan doesn't cry over some stupid heart break, but damn does it hurt.

Even under the ruthless villain persona, you're still human, and you still have feelings. You don't care that a woman, you don't even know the name of, died a brutal death by your hands. To you her death was warranted, but with that logic, Dabi should be a pile of bone next her.

He made you weak, you should have ran when you had the chance, but no you had to drag feelings into this. Now look at you, tear stained cheeks, burns splattered on your skin.

All because of him, a scoff slips past your lips as you get back to your feet, this would never happen again.

You would never fall for the devil again.

[igshar]

Chapter 0 - Amelia Brandt

The first chapter of my novel! Because I love the 70 people who follow me still even though I never ever post anything lmao. You guys are the best, so have a free sample of the first meeting of Amelia and Lucille and all the weirdness that surrounds such things.

The cylinder of a six-shot revolver broke open, shattering the silence of the evening as two emerald eyes checked the bullets loaded into the weapon: three were forged of dead-man’s blood and the others glowed a subtle shade of blue. Her feet clacked along down the sidewalk, boots falling heavy on the concrete. The night was dark; the moon a thin sliver in the sky. She spun the cylinder and clicked it shut, testing her aim as she walked. A twig cracked behind her and she wheeled about, aiming the weapon dead ahead, steady despite the sweat beading on her forehead. She could see nothing in the dim lights of the streetlamps, not even beneath that one that flickered half a block down. She dropped her arms and turned back to walk forward, further. “Where are you, Greg?” she mumbled under her breath, eyes scanning the area. Drumming her right hand’s fingers on her hip, she spun the gun in her other hand and holstered it, dropping thumbs to hang on her gun belt. A heavy groan escaped her lips and she looked skyward, watching the clouds float to cover up the waning crescent. She plucked her phone from the front pocket of her jacket and woke it up, staring at the blaring digits, indicating it had been two hours since the phone call saying to meet him here in ninety minutes. “Irritating,” she said, shutting off her phone screen and dropping it back home.

When she looked back up, she found herself staring down a man in a hooded sweatshirt, walking straight toward her. She blinked and waved, “Hey, is that you, Greg?”

The figure sped up, walking a bit faster. She took a step back, pulled out her gun, and aimed. “Stop right there, cocksucker! I’m not afraid to shoot!” Her static posture and narrow gaze betrayed truth in her words.

It stopped, then, and threw up its hands, hissing, “Relax, Amelia! Put the gun down!” He threw back the hood, revealing a pale white visage with two red-sclera eyes set within. Visible red veins wormed from his eyes, through his cheeks. The man grimaced a bit, flashing his sharp canines.

Amelia released the hammer and held the gun up. “I almost shot you, Greg.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t be so trigger-happy.”

“And maybe you shouldn’t pick a meeting spot on a dark street at midnight.”

“It’s not that dark.”

“Like half the lights don’t work, and half of the others flicker on and off every few seconds.”

He looked around, confirming her words. Scratching at his chin, he grumbled, “Whatever, come on.” He motioned with his head and turned around, trotting back the way he came.

Amelia tucked her weapon away and jogged to catch up. “You’re making this seem a lot sketchier than it is. Why are you wearing that?”

“People here know me, Amelia. And you, too. You should be wearing a disguise…”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Nobody’s gonna run into us except maybe the cops.”

He nodded. “Right. That’s pretty true. I’ve just gotten really used to night time. This is like noon for you, for me,” he said with a chuckle. “And winter means longer nights. The best time of year.”

She smiled. “You seem to be getting accustomed to your lot.”

“Hard not to. Been turned for…” He held up his fingers to count. “Almost seven years, now. Any progress?”

“None. I looked a little, but can’t find anything about turning you back. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve already helped more than you know.” He led the girl off the sidewalk and through some underbrush to a large, rusted warehouse set in an otherwise vacant lot on the edge of town. He rapped his knuckles on the door and said, “Here we are. This is the place I was tasked with bringing the cargo.”

“And the cargo is… a girl, you said?”

“One who needs your help, yeah.”

Amelia nodded, folding her arms before her. “Right.”

Dropping to a squat, Greg pulled the door to the warehouse up, holding it for Amelia to slip inside, which she did, followed shortly by the vampire. It slammed shut behind them. “Alright, I told her to wait ahead in the back room.”

“Lead the way.”

Greg nodded as he unzipped his hoodie, slipping it off. Beneath that, he wore a black vest over a white button-down with a red-and-black striped tie tucked into the former. He was a stark contrast to Amelia’s more casual light brown soft leather jacket over a black thermal undershirt and leggings tucked into matching brown boots. She followed along behind her friend for a time, their footfalls screaming metallic echoes into the hollow space. He paused at a door and tugged it open. “Ladies first.”

Amelia laughed. “No.”

Greg rolled his eyes and slipped in ahead of her. “Still don’t trust me, huh?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re not special.” She froze just inside the doorjamb, staring dead ahead. There, sitting on a lone chair in the well-lit room was a woman with charcoal-grey skin and a pair of glowing yellow eyes that flashed orange the moment Amelia entered. She wore jean shorts and a tattered black tee with her feet bare against the stone floor.

Tucking black hair behind her ear, she blinked. “Is that her, Grigori? Is that really Amelia Brandt?”

As if the outfit and skin weren’t enough to draw her eye, this woman also sported a pair of orange horns, jutting from her forehead and a long, thin tail with a spade at its end, which swished forth and back as she spoke.

“Yeah, that’s me,” replied Amelia, letting her left hand fall back to the stock of her revolver as the door shut behind her.

∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞     ∞

Amelia Brandt sat alone in a house, feet kicked up on the coffee table as her body was sunken deep into the soft cushions of her sofa. She licked the spoon clean of ice cream, emerald eyes transfixed on the screen as she caught up on her favorite show. Finding time to watch it was difficult, to say the least, with her schedule. Tonight was an exception. Tonight, she had plenty of time to watch her show in peace. That was, until her phone started wiggling its way across the hardwood table, vibrating violently as if mocking her and her inability to ever take an evening off. She leaned forward, setting her tub of ice cream aside and checking the phone. Grigori Rasmus. Her brow furrowed and she paused the show, holding her phone up. “Greg? This is unexpected. How’re things going with Greight?”

“Great!” he said with a chuckle.

“Now I remember why I don’t call you.”

“Hah. I’m on a delivery right now, driving back home. Was wondering if you might be in town?”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “I can be. Do you need me for something?” She was definitely not dressed to go out. Tonight was a relax-and-watch-shows night.

“I don’t, no. My cargo does.”

Her eyes widened. “Elaborate.”

“So my current job is to deliver this girl to a warehouse near Aisor. She claims she was sent topside by the devil to kill you. I personally…”

“Pass.”

“I didn’t finish!”

“I’m not gonna meet someone who wants to kill me, Greg. I get enough of that from real jobs.”

“Can I at least finish her pitch?”

Rolling her eyes, Amelia dropped onto her back on the sofa. “Yeah. Sure. Go for it.”

“Right! So she was sent here to kill you. I personally believe her. She also said that she needs your help, so she asked me to introduce you to her. Apparently the devil had her seek me out, since I have direct access to you or something. He’s offering to cure me if I help her kill you.”

She narrowed her gaze. “He’s starting to play dirty, then.”

“If you can’t figure it out, it’s impossible. No way do I believe the devil. Don’t worry.”

“So the girl is tasked with killing me and wants you to get the two of us alone in a room together?”

“Three of us. Anubis thinks I’ll help her.”

She scratched at her cheek and rolled over, staring at the frozen television. “What does she need my help with?”

“Wouldn’t say.”

“That’s not suspicious, at all.”

“So what should I tell her?”

“I’m not gonna walk into a trap, Greg.”

“Alright, hold on a sec. She’s riding shotgun.” She heard shuffling and then his voice, a bit quieter. “Sorry, Lucille. She said no. She’s worried you’re tricking her.”

“But I’m not!” came a shout from an unfamiliar voice.

“Wait, hold up!” Amelia shouted, sitting upright in a hurry.

“One sec,” Greg said, before his voice became louder again. “Did you say something? Had the phone away from my ear.”

“What’s her name? You said her name.”

“Lucille. Why?”

“Lucille? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I’m in.”

“What? Say that again? I thought I just heard you completely change your s–”

“I’m in. I’ll take her case. Send me time and place in a text. I’ll be there.”

“Sure. I’ll have Lucille text from my phone. Driving and all.”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be a law-abiding vampire, Greg. A lot has changed since we last saw each other.”

He laughed and said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Amelia. And thank you again.”

“I don’t do it for the thanks.”

“I know.”

“See you. I gotta go get ready.” She hung up and clicked off the TV. Exhaling, she looked down at her hands. “Lucille…”

∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞    ∞

“Yeah, that’s my name,” the gray girl responded, pushing to her feet. Amelia clenched the stock, finger resting alongside the trigger.

“Stay right where you are. I’m warning you,” Amelia hissed, looking from the girl to the vampire and back.

Greg groaned and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Amelia.”

Lucille held up both hands and nodded. “Will you really help me? Can you really help me?”

Amelia stared her down. “That depends on whether or not you’re serious about wanting it, and this isn’t a trap.”

Lucille nodded. She reached for her ear and plucked from the lobe a small ruby gem, set into an earring. Tossing it to the floor between the two girls, she explained, “That’s my contact with my dad; called a chatterrock.”

“Your dad?” she asked, relaxing her grip on the gun. “You mean Anubis?”

The girl nodded again and Amelia released her gun, exhaling and instead folding her arms before her chest. “Okay, got it. So what do you need help with?”

Lucille blinked. “Can I move, now?”

“Yeah.”

She shuffled up to Amelia and held out her hand. “I’m your biggest fan, miss Amelia.”

The girl furrowed her brow and shook the woman’s hand. “Thank you? Why would you be my fan?”

“Because you’re awesome. I’ve heard lots of stories.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” Her yellow eyes scanned the woman up and down as her hand retracted. “It’s hard to believe them, now, seeing you in person, but…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amelia grumbled, tugging her arms tighter.

Lucille reached out and poked at Amelia’s arm. “I mean… you’re so squishy. How did you beat ten werewolves when they wanted to eat you?”

“Well, I–”

“And you’re supposed to be the only human to ever kill a spirit, but you’re so…”

Amelia blinked. “That was…”

“Baphomet.”

“Yeah, that was his name.”

Lucille furrowed her brow and took a step back. “It’s just odd. I pictured you to be different. Like… lots different.”

“Yeah, I figured. Probably imagined me prettier and without glasses.” She adjusted the frames on her nose.

“No, I was gonna say I pictured you taller.”

Amelia felt her face flush a bit and she shrugged. “Can’t help my height. You’re only a couple inches higher up there than I am, either way!”

“Still taller,” Greg chimed in.

“You shut it, vampire!”

He chuckled. “Sorry, sorry.”

Amelia tugged her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She blew a lock of brown hair out of her face and stared up at the demon before her. “So, anyway…”

“Ah! Right! My dad sent me here to kill you, but I don’t want to do that. You’re always nice to monsters like me.”

Greg cocked a brow and said, “Oh, you’re gonna strike a nerve.”

Amelia cut across, “You’re not a monster, Lucille. Monsters kill people and do bad things. I go by a mantra of person until proven monster. So far, you’re the former.”

Lucille looked down. “Oh, well…”

Just then, there was a rumbling sound.

“Shit, that’s the front door,” Greg hissed. “I’ll go stall for time. You two get out of here. That’s probably the devil’s hired muscle.”

“How did they find us?” Amelia pondered after Greg left.

Lucille kicked the ruby on the ground. “I think he can track our chatterrocks.”

“Right. Well, let’s head back to my place, then. We’ll discuss your case more, there. It’s more comfortable than this old warehouse, anyway.” She snapped her fingers and a wooden door appeared before them, in the middle of the room. “After you.”

“What?” Lucille squeaked.

“Go through the door.”

“Where does it lead?”

“My home.”

“Oh, okay. Why don’t you go first?”

“When I go through the door, it closes behind me. So…”

“Okay, okay. Got it.”

Lucille’s fingers wrapped around the handle and the latch clicked when she turned it. The door was easy to push open, and functioned just like an ordinary one, except when Amelia followed behind, it slammed shut on its own, locking the pair of women in a wide open living room. Hardwood floors, sofa, coffee table, perfectly domestic. Amelia tousled her hair and dropped her hands to her hips.

Lucille looked around in awe at how peaceful everything looked and felt. Cozy, warm, and quiet.

“Welcome to the Shack. Make yourself comfortable.” She lazily motioned to the couch as she walked off toward another room. “Need a drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Water, soda, iced tea… I’ve got no liquor in the house.”

“I think I’m fine, thanks,” Lucille said, dragging herself toward the couch. Amelia vanished through an open doorway and the girl flopped face-first onto the soft cushions.

“And be careful not to break anything!” she shouted, “Most of the stuff here is antique!”

She picked herself up and found a pillow stuck to her face! Tugging the ruined fluffy square from her horns, she panicked and stuffed it behind the seat she was on, looking around for something to busy herself with. Laptop on the table, television with no remote in sight, perfectly positioned chess set… her eyes finally settled on the shelf hanging over the television.

Her yellow eyes scanned left to right along it, checking out the various little figurines. There were crudely-made clay models of monsters and creatures from mythology coupled with exquisitely carved and painted pewter statues of same. She pulled down the model of a demon. A hulking brute with huge horns and orange lines painted into its gray skin. Its face had similarly orange eyes and open mouth. Pure terror in tiny stone form.

“Boo.”

Lucille leapt out of her skin, the little demon flying in the air as the shelf rattled. An ornate hourglass set upon the shelf wobbled. Amelia caught it with her free hand as Lucille fumbled to catch the little figure, setting it back in place as she clutched a hand to her chest.

“My mom made the pewter ones. The clay ones were by her great-grandma or something. Super old. I got you some water.” Handing over a water bottle, she smiled.

Lucille took it, cracked the top, and drank a swig. “Thanks,” she mumbled, shuffling a step away from the woman.

“Do you want a tour or…?” Amelia stepped away to set a guitar down carefully on the sofa. She drank from her own bottle, downing over half of it in just a few moments.

“Yeah, I guess a tour would be nice.”

“Right! So this is the Shack.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s been my family’s home for give or take thirteen, fourteen hundred years, maybe longer. It’s nestled safely away from all sorts of danger, warded against pretty much the entire gamut of terrible beasties, and has a door that only responds to those who bear our blood in their veins.”

She nodded, looking around the room some more. Her eyes settled back on the figurines.

“It’s kinda boring living alone, so we gotta do something to pass the time. Mom carved statues, I play guitar. Anyway, this is the living room. Nice comfy sofa for lounging. Over this way–” she grabbed Lucille’s wrist and tugged her along toward the way she had gone before. “–is the kitchen. There’s a table for eating, stove and oven for cooking, fridge for storage.” She nodded and smiled. “And that’s the back door,” she said, motioning to the glass sliding doors across the room. “It’s not a portal like the front one, it actually just opens into the backyard. We’ve got swings and a fence and a patio with a grill.” She shrugged and walked back toward the passage. “Behind this door,” she tapped on it, “are stairs to the basement. It’s got some nice wards, and it’s where I stash all my excess ingredients for more advanced witchcraft. Up these stairs, you’ll find the toilet, shower, and beds. Mine’s last on the left, yours is last on the right. Try not to snoop, too much.”

She shuffled back toward the front door, pulling open a closet to hang her jacket and kick off her boots. Making her way around the sofa, she plopped her bum down onto the sofa cushions and pulled the guitar up from the floor. With her sock-hugged feet kicked up on the table, she settled in and began to tune the instrument as Lucille looked on from the entry to the kitchen. “Why is it called the Shack?”

A shrug responded. “Dunno. My mom told me that’s its name.”

“Where is your mom?”

“Dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s been seventeen years. I’m good. Take your shoes off and relax. I won’t bite.” She smiled at the demon and patted the couch beside her.

“Right,” she mumbled, doing as she was told. Her bum hit the couch, causing Amelia to bounce a bit. She mimicked her host, feet up on the table.

“That’s more like it,” she cooed, strumming out a chord.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Depends what kind.”

“Why did you trust me?”

“I don’t trust you. I just believed you.”

“Why did you believe me, then?”

“I’m a glass half-full sort of person.”

“But, I’m a demon.”

“And I’m a witch. Let’s call it even,” she hummed, in tune with the last few string plucks.

Lucille nodded and shut her mouth, holding her arms across her chest.

“Anyway, back to your case.”

“My case?”

“You asked for my help. I’m helping you. That makes you my client, and it makes this business arrangement your case. Just terminology I like to use. Makes it seem more professional.” She nodded.

Lucille wasn’t quite sure she liked the word “seem” being involved there, but she relented with a curt nod.

“What sort of help did you need? There’s no way to turn a demon into a human, if that’s what you’re after. You wouldn’t believe how many spirits ask me for that sort of help.”

“No, I need you to help hide me.”

Amelia paused her strumming and shifted to face the woman more directly. “Alright. Hide you from what, exactly? Or, who, I guess? Anubis?”

She looked down.

“I’ll level with you – I’m not the best person to shack up with if you wanna hide from Annie. I’m his number one target, right now. Smack dab in the middle of his crosshairs, lately.”

“Because you killed Baphomet?”

“Mostly because of that, yeah.” She tapped fingers on her guitar. “Baphomet and Aine. Those are the names of the only two people I’ve ever killed. I think it’s pretty good for being eight years in the game.”

Lucille nodded. “Why did you kill Baphomet?”

“Revenge. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. Tonight, let’s talk about you.”

“No. Don’t people usually do these things, uh, no questions asked, or something?”

“Not me. We’re dealing with some seriously dangerous stuff. I need details.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I just need to stay away from Anubis. He let me come topside, and I never want to go back. Okay?”

Amelia stared into the woman’s eyes, hummed a little, and then started plucking strings with her fingers, playing the notes of a song. “Deal. I’ll do everything in my power to stop him from getting you back. Other than that, I have a proposition for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Would you like to be my partner?”

Lucille’s gray skin flushed orange and she began to stammer.

Amelia looked at her and cocked a brow. “I’ve been hunting alone since my last partner left, and I could really use someone to watch my back. You’re a freaking demon, so I figure… if you’re up for it, that is.”

“Oh!” That made more sense. She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I could give it a shot.”

“Excellent. There’s just a couple ground rules you need to follow, if you wanna work with me.”

“Of course!”

“First,” she held up one finger and furrowed her brow. “We’re not hawks. We don’t kill.”

“Hawks?”

“It’s what people call the Nightstalkers, for short, since they used to wear these stupid hawk masks. Their mission statement, according to them, is: To save humanity through the systematic eradication of the corrupt, monstrous creatures that lurk in the night. Basically, they kill monsters to help people.”

“Right. That sounds like an extreme measure.”

“It is. Last resort. For you, that means that, no matter what, I need to give explicit, direct permission for you to be allowed to kill someone – or something – that we end up fighting with.”

Lucy nodded in response. “I’ll trust your judgment going forward.”

“Good. Second rule: I’m not the boss, outside of the first rule. My judgment is not infallible. Pretty clear, since I’ve got two dead on my conscience. Don’t be afraid to speak up if you think I’m wrong or you have a better idea for something.”

She nodded, a bit unsure about that one. Lucille had never really considered herself a particularly smart person…

“Third, we’re gonna be traveling the world and staying in motels of questionable repute. I always spring for the cheapest option. That’s usually a room with just one bed. Since you’re literally made of fire, I’ll sleep under the sheets, you’re over at least one. Boundaries.”

“O-Okay.” That one went way over her head. She’d have to just see that to get it. Her brow furrowed as she agreed.

“And lastly, trust is earned around here, not freely given. I’ll be packing contingencies for if you turn on me, so don’t be stupid.”

“I’ll do my best to earn your trust, then.”

“Good luck,” Amelia exhaled, fingers plucking at strings.

“You don’t think I can do it?”

She laughed. “I don’t.” Her emerald eyes flashed to the demon. “In fact, I’m so confident that, if you ever successfully earn my trust, you’ll also get a voucher, from me, redeemable for anything you want, so long as it’s within my power to give.”

Lucy cocked a brow. “Deal.”

“Now, I’m gonna stay up for a bit and play. Music calms me down.” Her hand split from the strings to roll the wrist in a circle, stretching the strained joints. “You’re welcome to stay and listen.”

“Okay, I will.”

The guitar sat lightly in her lap, each strum helping her tightened muscles relax. Her left hand’s fingers slid easily along the frets, her eyes fluttering shut as she let the vibrations of the strings course through her form. She exhaled, long and low, transitioning from random chords here and there into a light, lilting melody that reverberated within the heart of the wood-bodied instrument. It was soon accompanied by her voice, singing about her desire to be wanted and needed, and how her life had been a series of failures up to that point. It was a slow, almost haunting melody. Above all, though, Lucille thought Amelia had quite a lovely singing voice.

[jensr3nifertde]

★彡 She’s a mess of beautiful chaos and you can see it in her eyes ❰ Visage  // Sophie Turner❱

★彡 She deafens the world with her fearlessness ❰Isms❱

★彡 So much pain for someone so young ❰Milton Greasley❱

★彡 She’s a little bit of heaven with a wild side ❰Penelope Park❱

★彡 When she’s mad even the demons run for cover ❰Verse // Full Tribrid❱

★彡 You don’t get to die and be reborn the same ❰Verse // Hope Mikaelson Not Found❱

★彡  Treat her like a game and she will show you how it’s played ❰Ask Meme❱

★彡 A stunning dress made of hellfire ❰Wardrobe❱

★彡 She’s been through hell so fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles ❰Aesthetic❱

★彡 Don’t touch my family ❰The Mikaelsons❱

★彡 She wears strength and darkness equally well ❰ Visage // Danielle Rose Russell❱

★彡 I hope you're proud of me dad ❰Klope❱

★彡 Darkness lives in her ❰Josette Saltzman❱

★彡 I’m the monster you created ❰Klaus Mikaelson❱

★彡 She rose from the dead. She does it all the time ❰Verse // Hope Mikaelson Not Found❱

★彡 Like a phoenix he rises from the ashes ❰Landon Kirby❱

★彡 I’ve survived. Somehow I always do ❰Rafael Waithe❱

★彡 Men fight wars. Women win them ❰Caroline Forbes❱

★彡 Spells and potions ❰Grimoire❱

★彡  She bows to no one ❰Rebekah Mikaelson❱

★彡 She wears a smile like a loaded gun ❰Katherine Pierce❱

★彡 You don’t need a weapon when you are born one ❰Verse // Bow down to them❱

★彡 Clever as the devil and twice as pretty ❰Esther Mikaelson❱

★彡 You’re magic. Don’t apologize for the fire inside of you ❰Musings❱

★彡 In the light of the moon. The wolves will call you home ❰Wolf Form❱

★彡 People do bad things in order to survive ❰Stefan Salvatore❱

★彡 Might be a sinner. Might be a saint ❰Elena Gilbert❱

★彡 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.  I can lose everything but not you ❰Hosie❱

★彡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮. You save everyone but who saves you  ❰Hayley Marshall❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.  She changed to cold so no one will ever hurt her again ❰Aunt Dahlia❱

★彡 𝐌𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭. My past has tasted bitter for years now so I wield an iron fist ❰Alaric Saltzman❱

★彡 𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.  It’s not her fault she has her father’s eyes ❰ Visage // Summer Fontana❱

★彡 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮. I would destroy myself to fix you ❰Hizzie❱

★彡 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞. I can keep you safe. They’re all afraid of me ❰Hafael❱

★彡 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠. Suddenly life wasn’t about living but surviving  ❰Elijah Mikaelson❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞. She was not made to be subtle ❰Elizabeth Saltzman❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝. She deserves better than what we had ❰Klaylope❱

★彡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. there’s a little bit of the devil in her eyes ❰Freya Mikaelson❱

★彡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦.  You can take away my soul. But don’t touch him ❰Handon❱

★彡 𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.  A life without music isn’t worth living ❰Verse // Next On Nashville❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫. She never knew that her name was going to make people shake with fear ❰Verse // Just a Marshall❱

★彡 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧. Don’t let them look behind the curtain ❰Verse // Just Pretend❱

★彡 𝐈𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨. In my child’s eyes I am a hero ❰Verse // Motherhood❱

★彡 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐭.  Just going to vlog it ❰Verse // Welcome to Youtube❱

★彡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞. There was no place for supernaturals until he built one  ❰Verse // Mikaelson Boarding School❱

★彡 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. Having a twin is like having a built in best friend ❰Verse // Twins❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧.  She belongs on the silver screen ❰Verse // Superstar❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. All this time I thought I wasn’t good enough ❰Verse // Adopted❱

★彡 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝.  Not if everyone thinks she is dead ❰Verse // Hidden Away❱

★彡 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚. 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Lights. Camera. Action. ❰Verse // Actress❱

★彡 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞.  Take her far away from here until it is safe to come home ❰Verse // Raised by Bex❱

★彡 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐩.  Don’t weep. Weapons don’t weep ❰Verse // Dahlia Raised❱

★彡 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞.  This is how things should have gone ❰Verse // To rewrite❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡. 𝐀 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞. 𝐀 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭.  she’s a witch. a vampire. a werewolf and never knew it ❰Verse // Magic Bound❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.  All of the things I have made over time ❰Mine // All❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. All of the things I have made over time  ❰Mine // Screencap❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.  All of the things I have made over time  ❰Mine // Gif❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. All of the things I have made over time  ❰Mine // Static❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.   All of the things I have made over time ❰Mine // Fanvideo❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. All of the things I have made over time  ❰Mine // Icons❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. All of the things I have made over time  ❰Mine // PSD❱

★彡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.   All of the things I have made over time ❰Mine // Polarr Filter❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐬.  she used to tie her hair up in ribbons and bows ❰About Jennifer❱

★彡 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐗𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐬.  Signs her letters with Xs and Os ❰Out Of Character❱

★彡 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 Follow the leader. Follow this blog ❰Promotion // Self Promo❱

★彡 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬  Follow the leader. Follow this blog ❰Promotion // Other Promos❱

★彡 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. This brought a smile to my lips and tears to my eyes ❰Positivity❱

★彡   𝐀 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞. A family built from pain and death. Like a phoenix they rise ❰ Verse // Marshall Mikaelson❱

★彡 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐏𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. Attention. Pay attention to these things ❰PSA❱

★彡 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐬. Gotta picture of her mama in heels pearls ❰OOC Answered❱

★彡 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. She was only a child that only wanted to heal things  ❰IC Answered❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝.  She wears all black like her soul but her heart is gold ❰All Answered❱

★彡 𝐇𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝. he’s a badass with a heart of gold ❰Marcel Gerard❱

★彡  𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞. What a plot twist you were ❰Kol Mikaelson❱

★彡 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮. One day her heart will stop questioning you ❰Davina Claire❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫.  She is more than just a copy of her ❰Verse // Parent Trap❱

★彡 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭. She has behavioral issues and is too defiant ❰Interactions❱

★彡 𝐏𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐠𝐨.  Put you on repeat. Play you everywhere I go ❰Ipod❱

[funkypoacher]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @evilbunnyking (thanks hun!! <3 ) tagging @sirladysketch (srry for tagging you constantly :P) @manicparadox @biggreenfeet and @redinkofshame. I really cant remember which of my ‘to-tag’ lists of people are writers/are actively writing. If you are writing but I didn’t tag you, tag me with your WIP and I’ll add you to my list!

I got... just... so much shit I really need to get done.

The Lunatic At Large (chapter one of Shenko series)

“Let’s just get to Mars first; follow through on what Hackett wants. Then we’ll see,” Kaidan advised pragmatically. He added, quietly, “can’t imagine planning three steps ahead is going to do any good in a war like this, anyways.”

Previously focusing on getting her greaves in order, Shepard stared. “Am I hearing Kaidan Alenko—Kaidan Alexis Alenko—suggesting anything other than a Plan B will save us?”

In response, he smiled almost bashfully.“No, no; not—not necessarily. I’m just saying we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. Count our chickens, and all that. We’ve got to trust that the brass knows what they’re doing.”

Shepard laughed loudly. “Sure! And maybe if they refuse to acknowledge the Reapers again, they’ll just go away. Say ‘sorry, pal’, pay the bill for damages, and hoof it back to deep space.” Her good humour fell away. “C’mon, Alenko. You can’t have forgotten what happened the last time the Alliance got wind of Reaper activity, can you? Actually”—and she knew bitterness was pointless, but she still hurt—“actually you could have forgotten, couldn’t you? In fact, you did forget, as I recall.”

Let’s Play (chapter three)

Carefully disrobing the paddy like a lover instead of imitation-beef served by hair-net toting vorchas, Shepard put it to her lips, inhaled deep, and took a large, slow chomp. Chewing, swallowing, she licked the corner of her mouth and sighed.

“Mmm. So good. I swear I haven’t sat down or eaten since I saved a certifiably fertile krogan female, thus basically curing the genophage. So it’s been a while.”

“Uh huh,” Kaidan grunted.

Shepard measured his total disconnect from reality and absolute preoccupation with her food. It was bad. Sinking her teeth in once more, she moaned as the meat hit her throat, consuming with relish the burger that had no relish.

But Kaidan’s pitiful expression—complete with nearly salivating lips—finally made Shepard laugh hard around her food. The spell was broken.

The Major’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing me,” he realized, voice raw with betrayal. “You’re doing this to torture me!”

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed.

Shepard plunged a hand into the take-out bag and presented Kaidan with his very own.

“Got you two,” she said. “And there’s fries.”

The Mystery of Pain (chapter four)

It might’ve been another lifetime ago, and it might’ve been five minutes. Since Kaidan last walked the Normandy, Commander Shepard had been in The Shit so often it was hard to scrape off. When she thought of hauling the Major’s ass from the Mars archives to the ship’s medbay, it seemed like the latter: five minutes ago. Which, although unrealistic, the man usually bounced back like a rubber ball, so why not?

As she looked at him now from a step behind, it felt like five minutes ago, too. She recognized the familiar stance and cologne; heard his unchanged soldier’s gait as boots scraped over the grating. Not only did the weeks since leaving Earth melt away, but the years before, too. Walking beside him seemed as natural or mundane as the passage of time; the passage of, say, five easy minutes in which they’d maybe even razzed each other on the elevator about grey hairs and worse-for-wear crow’s-feet.

When Kaidan looked Shepard straight in the eye, however, it was different. Worlds different. It was painful. It was a lifetime. She lost a lifetime looking at him, and it had been a lifetime since he’d last been here.

“C’mon, Hes,” he’d scowled, saying her name like it was the last time. “Look at us. This can’t end well. Just… put it down.”

She tightened her grip on the gun. The rattling, clicking sound was only slightly thicker than her resentful, pain-stricken reply. “Would I do this if I weren’t that certain, Kaidan? Would I?!”

He’d had a gun on her. For minutes. For the length and breadth of bargaining in which she’d convinced Kaidan to stand down. He’d trained his pistol-sights over her heart while they both begged, equally salient, for the other to come to their senses. They could have pulled their triggers and it’ve been just another mess in an immensely unjust war. They could have pulled their triggers, and he could have goddamn shot her.

Five minutes; a lifetime: these were nothing to the ten seconds it took to realize that professionalism didn’t mean shit when it all came down to stand-offs between allies. She’d been busting her hump trying to forget their history for the sake of bigger fish and fighting for the galaxy, but now, walking the hangar with him, Shepard was exhausted, jittery, and confused to the point that it was manifesting in a splitting, disconcerting headache.

She stared at him and tried not to.

She Does Not Brave The War (Solavellan prompt for ‘kiss in a dream’)

To come here was to face spring waters once the frost had fled. To feel through the Fade for this moment was like tempting thin ice with sure footing. Each solid step was an offering for which one might be rewarded with the swallowing cold; every tiptoe, though traded for courage, something to be repaid by faltering, fracturing ice.

“When did you know?” he’d asked.

It wasn’t grit that got into her limbs and gave them life beyond her sense. It wasn’t daring that did away with caution and carried her further than she ought. She experienced no heart-in-throat ecstasy of walking carelessly over a faintly frozen pond. She felt no bravery—only a chill.

“Maybe I didn’t,” she answered.

Solas and Ma’ven stood some feet from one another, empty, dead air between. It was her own fault, she figured, because this was her dream: winter without remorse; details mangled or missed by a livid body. This memory—accessible due to Solas’ past lessons—was less than a moment while disregarding definition wholesale. It was of Solas standing pensively sometime ago, yet that was all: context had been washed like the dirt off one’s hands. At the time she’d been too flustered, her heart so hurried, that the only impression left on her mind had been that of Solas looking thought-filled. And here she came in her weaker moments, years later, when alone with courage crumbling.

Usually she spoke to the thing. Usually she paced around the visage of Solas, talking of her ineptitude, as it stared straight on. Never she did kiss it, and, naturally, never did it kiss her back.

Until today.

Solas scolded playfully. “A dozen times you’ve dreamed of this place and never deviated from your custom. You depart directly after speaking with the spirit. Today, of course…” He seemed afraid to even name what had passed between them. Instead, he let a small smile bloom across his lips and asked again, softly, “when did you know?”

Hitched (Blackwall/Lavellan smut prompt for ‘pretending to be married’)

The wind was a whining. It rained. The downpour, neither bluster nor mild, steadily promised to sop the body and freeze bones as it birthed streams, bogged creeks, and bloated rivers like a corpse.

Pushing against the barn door with a bruised shoulder, gritting his teeth with quiet complaint, Thom kept their alms close: blanket, lamp, bread; wine. Bad wine, most likely—gone orange and sharp with age—but he hadn’t expected more from a Marcher called out of bed at midnight during sowing time. So he’d said his thanks, pressed four more coins into the their palm (plus rent for the night’s roof), and left.

Pushing open the barn door still hurt like a bitch, though.

Inside, it was clean: a cow shed repurposed to hold hay-piles which would have been better-off sheaved, but that wasn’t for Thom to say. Across the barn’s expanse lay a tall, thick carpet of yellow grasses dried in the sun which still smelt decent. Collapsed in its midst, arm and legs sprawled, was his companion.

By the time he was closing the door, Thom saw that he’d startled her. Her reaction cooling as he came in proper, she stubbornly refused to shiver, so her body was rigid with compunction.

Carefully taking the lamp from his loaded arms, she placed it on a stool. He’d be the one lighting it, however. Their flint had taken to mocking her one-armed attempts at finding a flame.

“Just the one, huh?” Vinya asked, admiring the fleece blanket that had been laid out for the sake of drying before they tried for shut-eye. “Going to be a cold night for one of us.”

“We can take turns,” Thom suggested optimistically, shedding his cloak. His gloves came off, too. “Would prefer one of us on watch, anyways. That tavern outside Markham… Well, it left a lot to be desired, let’s leave it at that.”

He was rubbing his hands when she brought him the loaf. Breaking it down the center, he handed her half.

[heddofon-akuta]

Together

Characters: Shintaro, Takane Ships: Platonic ShinTaka, implied HaruTaka Genre: Angst, friendship, tragedy Rating: T Word count: 1500+

Just as Ene had, for two years, refused to leave his side—Shintaro, too, refused to leave hers.

He stood in horror, looking on in despair at the fallen bodies before him. Kido, Seto, Kano, and Hibiya had all been taken by what was their premature (and what he could only assume,) true demise.

It was ironic, for as he looked up from the battered group he’d come to care for, he locked eyes with the only person in two years whom he’d audibly claimed as a “friend.” Instead of the pure, white look he’d formally adorned, he wore all black–however stained red by the blood he’d spilt.

In the distance behind him, Momo attempted to dull Mary’s ear-splitting cries against her chest, all while desparately trying to withhold her own as well. Shintaro, while not a stranger to his sister’s tears, clenched his fists tight. He’d never quite known to care for her in the past when she cried, he knew what he needed to do now.

“Momo… take Mary and run!”

With eyes reddened, however unlike they’d ever been, Momo called back, “But, Onii-chan, what about–!”

“I can talk to him!” Shintaro reassured her, “I was… his friend.”

Once more, her brother’s title fell from her lips. “Onii-chan…”

They both knew they few choices before them. While Shintaro certainly had his flaws, he was anything but stupid, and so, she did all she could, and trusted his words. “I promise, I’ll be fine. Go, now!” he called, and after a moment, he heard their footsteps trail off and down the hall.

Maybe it wasn’t much of a head start, but it was something. He took a deep breath, turning back to the monster, who, certainly, was no longer his friend.

“Nobel of you, to sacrifice yourself for your sister,” the words seemed to fall from his lips with a slight, quite like a real snake, “but I’d like to think we’re both aware, your efforts are in vein.” The darken Konoha raised his hand from his side, pointing the same firearm at Shintaro that he’d already used…

It was… strange. He felt sad. It shouldn’t have been surprising, considering whom he was, and the life he’d lived up until this point. But, truly, for the first time in two years, he felt emptier than he ever had.

Ayano, Kido, Seto, Kano. Momo, Mary, Hibiya, Konoha.

And he looked down at his phone… …Where was she? Where had Kano taken her? What a time to disappear. He’d thought, out of all people, she’d be the one to be with him when he died. Her, more than anyone.

Beyond the deafening cackling that escaped the monster’s lungs, Shintaro gazed down the distant barrel of the gun. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Truly–for the first time in two years, he felt completely alone.

The snake took his cue, and with a grin, he pulled the trigger.

However–

The gunshot was echoed by the sound of footsteps–tennis shoes, on linoleum tile. Shintaro’s eyes snapped open, as he felt nothing even akin to pain. New blood was splattered across his vision, but it wasn’t his own.

Before him stood an unbalanced figure; long black hair, wearing a hospital gown. Instinctively, he reached out to catch her in his arms as they both fell to the ground. He was in shock, as if he’d just been shot himself–for he was soon to be gazing upon an old yet familiar face.

“En… Enomoto!?”

His jaw, formally clenched, hung wide open in awe. “W-What… What are–why–?!”

He paused for a moment, for in his mind–what had just happened seemed to finally “click.”

Clutching her stomach, hand already covered in a dark-red shade, the girl let out something akin to a yelp. She struggled to so much as twitch the wrong way, and yet, the momentary look of pain on her face seemed to shift… to a grin?

“L-Long time–n-no… see–”

Shintaro opened his mouth to speak, but even though her current state, her words found a way to silence him. Yeah. Even at a time like this.

“–Goshujin.”

He paused. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the girl he held in his arms. The cogs in his mind seemed to stop; he could hardly process the instance he’d just witnessed, and yet, he was suddenly struck with an entirely different revelation. His breath hitched, and it seemed like an eternity before he finally exhaled her name.

“Ene?”

A look of shame almost passed over Takane’s visage, yet she didn’t have the strength to look away. “…I-I–” Speaking proved to be too much for her, as she was cut short by her own voice, a scream.

Shintaro, being himself, had hardly the mind to comfort her; he had hardly the mind to do anything but stare with a dumbfounded expression. Surely, had he ever been any good at comforting people, he’d have attempted to do more…

But, in all honesty, she wouldn’t have liked that.

“…Why?” he finally asked, as the simple question was all he could muster. Takane had to wonder about the true inquiry in his statement.

Why would you lie to me and live in my computer for two years? Or, maybe… Why would you jump in front of a loaded gun for me?

In any event, her answer was the same for both questions.

“…I-I, d-didn’t, want… a-anyone else–to die.”

Takane stared for a moment, ceasing in her staggering words–her head slouched slightly to the side. From the corner of her mouth, a small droplet of blood slid down her chin. She could feel herself losing feeling in her arms, and legs. She could hardly twitch her fingers.

“Y-You were… a-all, I had l-left. I-I didn’t… w-want you, to die. N-Not… y-you, too.”

Shintaro, naturally, was taken aback. The expression on his face seemed to slowly fade from the look of vacancy and shock to one of despair.

“R-Run…” Takane said softly, her voice fading. Shintaro’s breath grew shaky, and despite her words, his hold around her only grew tighter. Takane’s eyelids slowly drew to a close, but her voice lasted a few moments longer.

“Live, f-for, Ayano, f-for Haruka…” In the corners of her eyes, tears had long since formed, and a single drop slid down her cheek. It was soon accompanied, for with her final words, a tear of his own slid down his jaw, and dropped onto her face.

“A-and, for… me…” She cracked a smile. It was weak, but completely genuine, he knew–as it was one he’d seen on her many times before, though never in her physical body. In accompaniment, the tone of her voice shifted, and once more, he’d hear the voice he’d only held within his headphones until now. “–Goshujin.”

Her expression faded. No longer did she twitch, speak, breath; her tears ran dry, and she laid limp. Shintaro’s heart rate beat a mile a minute, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath, despite nearly to the point of hyperventilation. He’d always been praised for how “smart” he was–yet, he simply couldn’t understand.

“…E-Ene?”

Without realizing it, his hold around her had turned into a grip tighter than he’d ever given in his life. He embraced her lifeless against his chest, his face now drenched in a stream of tears, just as it’d been those two years ago.

“Ene…!”

As he held her against his chest, a strange grunting sound could be heard from across the room. He gasped, as it came to his attention how silent the room had otherwise grown. His gaze shot up, and the second it did–the monster let out a horrific scream. The snake clutched his own head, as if in pain, and Shintaro was soon taken aback by his words… and the familiarity of his voice.

“T… Takane!”

As if the gears in Shintaro’s mind had suddenly begun turning, he gasped. Instantly, he’d understood why Konoha’s likeness was so familiar.

“…H-Haruka-sempai!?” Shintaro shouted, standing to his feet. As he did, his eyes, uncontrollably, lit red. A single moment flashed in his mind:

Haruka-sempai, laying in a hospital bed, surrounded by nothing but an endless white abyss. “Kill Konoha… kill me, before this story ends.”

Instantly, he snapped back to reality, and as he did, yet another frightening sight was set before him. Much more terrifying than a gun pointed in his direction. Instead, the dark Konoha held a broken kind of smile, a weakened one. One that said “I’ve won,” as he pointed the firearm at the side of his own head.

Shintaro gasped. Eyes flashing red just once more–he remembered the sight of his schools empty rooftop, the empty sheet’s of Haruka-sempai’s hospital bed… and then he looked down at Ene, laying lifelessly before him, on the ground. He remembered the smile he woke up to every day, for the past two years.

Without a moment of hesitation, he stepped over her body, and raced in the snakes direction–in Haruka’s direction. Shintaro, too, couldn’t bare to lose anyone else. In a swift action, he shoved the gun out of his hand, however slightly, and only after the trigger had been pulled. The other’s yellowed eyes widened, as blood splattered across his vision. Shintaro fell lifelessly to the floor.

Just as Ene had, for two years, refused to leave his side—Shintaro, too, refused to leave hers.

[ofthingschanged]

** ❰Hope M Interactions❱ She survived the war now she has to live with the trauma

** ❰Hope M Visage: Danielle Rose Russell❱ Clever as the devil and twice as pretty

** ❰Hope M Musing❱ A wolf is still a wolf even when cadged 

** ❰Hope M Isms❱ The stars gave her a crown and told her this is her home

** ❰Hope M Wardrobe❱ She wears a smile like a loaded gun

** ❰Hope M Answered❱ She is pure magic in her veins

** ❰Hope M Headcanon❱ She can fake a smile and make you think she is fine

** ❰Hope M Verse: Undecided❱ the world is a scary place but She has this under control

[womanweapon]

TAG DROP ;; part two