#also consciously like ''boy i hope in the course of doing this i stumble across some info that sparks some eureka moment of Getting what my

[unproduciblesmackdown]

that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine

[shushiyuii]

Oh my beloved that was very pog-

Gib another part for the zombie apocalypse one pwease :3?

Anything for my Dear Smoggy, Love you!

if you wish for a part three you may, but you're gonna have to give me an idea :3

Warnings: Zombies (Which will contain death and some heavy subjects, be warned), Soft vore.

Words: 1.7K+

It was obvious that the growl wasn’t human, the tone sounded so inhuman that it scared Tommy, not only that but his eyes, they screamed pure anger. Despite the small time of knowing Wilbur, he’d honestly grown quite attached to the man fairly quickly. Wilbur being the only one to treat him with proper kindness since the outbreak.

Three months without anybody he loved, three months of torture, three months without touch…

He didn’t love Wilbur but, he believed he could. He knew no ordinary survivor would protect him like Wilbur was now, so it made him think. ‘Maybe Wilbur grew attached too?’.

…

Wilbur’s mind was fuelled by panic, he couldn’t think straight. His urges are too strong. Hunger demanding satisfaction. But not for humans. For the deaths of the zombies, his mind screamed at him to protect the boy.

He didn’t know how he had grown so attached, perhaps it was that he was lonely for so long? He felt pity for the boy. He couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, what emotion was screaming at him. He just knew that whatever was left of his lungs breathed with anger and his ‘heart’ raced.

…

“STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled and pushed Tommy behind him, “What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?!” Tommy yelled at the top of his lungs. What on earth was this idiot trying to get killed?!

“I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!”. Wilbur’s voice was no longer that soft and soothing voice, rather a distorted, alien-like voice. As if a drainpipe was trying to talk. Wilbur took a step back as the zombies came in closer to them.

“Tommy, get to the back end to the alley. Now!”. Wilbur’s voice was desperate. Tommy ran to the back as fast as possible, his lungs screaming and his chest aching, tears stung his eyes. He was scared, he didn’t know what to do. There was no way out of the alley, and they were surrounded.

The sounds of the zombies gave him a headache, what was he supposed to do?! He couldn’t do anything; he wouldn’t even be here right now if Wilbur hadn’t saved him.

…

Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, angering the zombies further into attacking the two, Tommy screamed at him to get back, Wilbur could hear the teenager’s fear for their safety. It scared Wilbur to hear such a tone from a normally happy kid.

It was probably apparent to Tommy by now that he wasn’t inheritably normal, but Tommy still reached out to him. So, the kid had grown attached himself, the hard and closed off one of the two had grown attached.

The kid had been lonely, scared. Without anybody but himself to care about. Wilbur couldn’t really blame him for such things. He was just a kid after all.

…

Tommy stared in horror as Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, he yelled out. He was scared, he didn’t know what was going to happen or what the fuck was going on…

And that fear only increased and Wilbur fell to the ground on his knees.

…

His knees gave out from under him as he fell to the ground in pain, his muscles ached. He couldn’t say it was hell though, he’d grown used to it after a while of doing so.

He noticed his once human-looking hands quickly turning into sharp claws, sharp enough to tear through flesh. Normal teeth turning too sharp like canines, one bite sharp enough to easily kill. His size grew.

…

Tommy didn’t know how much emotion he could handle in a day, but he was sure he was way past his limits, if he wasn’t horrified before he definitely was now. Wilbur once a normal size, turned gigantic. As tall as the buildings.

He could see his teeth, claws. His beanie had fallen off during his transformation, exposing the part of his head where he had an exposed skull. It was obvious to Tommy now, how Wilbur easily evaded those Zombies, the puzzle pieces fitting together. He was a Zombie himself.

As much as his mind screamed to hide from Wilbur, he knew it was a death wish. Not only that but if Wilbur was capable of communication and compassion. He wasn’t a normal Zombie or the fact that he had mentioned he was trying to protect Tommy.

So, Tommy had befriended a Zombie, funny.

…

Wilbur turned to look back at Tommy, he could see the pure fear in the boy’s eyes. He wanted to apologize for scaring him but there wasn’t much Wilbur could do at the current moment. He needed to quickly keep them safe.

He knelt down over to Tommy, the boy stepped back on instinct. He reached out his claw, carefully embracing Tommy in a fist, giving a small squeeze to reassure the boy but all he got were his screams and cries.

Wilbur felt the Zombies trying to crawl onto his legs, he stood up and immediately stomped down, killing whatever Zombies were once there. Tommy screamed again in fear, he brought the boy to his chest protectively. Hoping that this was enough to comfort the boy for a minute as he continued to destroy them.

…

There were way too many Zombies than Wilbur expected, every Stomp only brought, even more, to deal with, it was getting annoying. Every growl just made Tommy cling to his chest further than before, he wanted nothing but to comfort the boy, but his focus was just on killing and killing.

He realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to win this battle as the Zombies kept on increasing. His instinct screamed at him to roar but he held back that instinct, for Tommy and for the case of not luring anymore Zombies than he already had.

As his mind raced for a plan, he came to a conclusion.

Run.

He ran past the Zombies, the ground shaking under him with every step. Rubble of buildings falling as he passed. Normally he was careful, but he had nothing to lose, besides the small human currently in his arms.

He was probably halfway across the city when he finally got away from the Zombies. The boy in his arms crying his heart out. Once he realized, they were safe, he stopped. Taking a second to finally breathe after everything that had happened.

He scanned around for Zombies and found none so he finally sat down, his body slumping against the building behind him, it was uncomfortable, but it would do as he was tired as hell.

…

Tommy stopped crying as the loud sounds had stopped somewhat, he didn’t realize how tightly he had clung onto Wilbur. All he could hear were the sounds of birds and Wilbur’s breathes, maybe even a heartbeat?

After a moment, he let go of the hold he had on Wilbur’s clothes and looked back at the claws holding him. He could tell they were sharp, Wilbur could just easily kill him, but he didn’t, and the fact he was being held in a way that the claws would bring no harm to him.

He looked up at Wilbur, whose eyes were closed. But it was obvious to Tommy he was still awake, you had to be during an apocalypse and especially what had just happened.

…

“W-Wilbur?”, his eyes opened to look down at the boy in his claw, Tommy seemed to shrink down at the sight of his eyes, he couldn’t blame the boy for being scared. “Yes Tommy?”, his voice still distorted but softer and calmer.

“A-Are you a Zombie?”. Tommy shrunk back even further into his hand. Wilbur took in a deep breath and after a moment answered. “Yeah, I am. A weird one at that”.

Tommy’s face turned to slight curiosity, “H-how’d you become one?”, “Dunno, I don’t remember.”. “How are you able to grow gigantic?", “The same answer, it just came naturally I guess”.

The boy stopped talking but the fear slightly lifted from the boy’s face much to Wilbur’s relief. “Are you okay?”, he asked with concern. “F-fine, just scared”. Wilbur hummed in reply.

“You don’t have to be scared; I’ll protect you”. He squeezed Tommy gently, in reassurance. Tommy picked up on it this time. He could see a small smile plaster the boy’s features.

…

Night soon came, as it was apparent that the two were really tired. Wilbur could feel the boy slip in and out of consciousness in his hand. “Tired, Gremlin?”. He got a half sleepish, ‘Mhm’.

Wilbur hummed and picked up the boy, bringing him closer to his mouth. He opened his mouth and breathed out. Warm breath brought the boy out of his sleepish state and went to alert as he saw Wilbur’s mouth coming ever so closer.

“W-Wilbur!? What are you doing?!”. He screamed out, Wilbur closed his mouth and stared down at Tommy in confusion. “I thought you were tired?”, “Course I’m fucking tired but what the fuck are you trying to do?!”.

“Eat you?...”, “EAT ME?!”. He yelled out, “What do you mean eat me?!”. “Uh, do humans not at each other?”, “OF FUCKING COURSE NOT!”.

“Oh…”. Wilbur stumbled, confused. Since when did humans not eat each other? He thought since he could do it himself it was also a human trait. Turns out it wasn’t. Turns out humans’ control quite control their stomach acids as Tommy explained.

“Well-“ Wilbur coughed, “You still need to sleep Tommy”. He then opened his mouth and gently placed Tommy in much to his complaints. He licked the boy, tasting dirt and other things. “Wilbur!”, Tommy yelled out but got no response as Wilbur tilted his head back and swallowed.

…

Tommy felt as he couldn’t breathe as muscles pushed against him, he had no room to move, it didn’t help his claustrophobia. Not only that but Tommy was terrified, his mind raced with panic. He knew Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him, but his mind yelled at him anyways.

He soon fell into a larger space, his stomach. He pounded at the walls, begging to be let out but the walls only pressed against him, a soft rumbling of Wilbur’s body around him. Wilbur’s purring. Not only that but there were soft reassurances from Wilbur.

Well, maybe it wasn’t too bad, he was honestly really tired. He leaned against the wall, which was warm. Something he hasn’t quite have for a while, it was oddly comforting. He yawned and fell into a deep sleep, mumbling a goodnight.

…

Wilbur smiled as he finally felt the boy sleep, Tommy had been through a lot and needed the rest. Now Wilbur had to figure out what was going to happen next…

Summary:

Wilbur: You need sleep Tommy.

Tommy: No

Wilbur: Yes *nom*

Tommy : AAAAAAA

Also Tommy: *Sleeps*

[funtimebunnyblog]

So! What about the god ok switch-a-roo? The pillarmen are now human and their s/os are pillarmen!

I interpreted this request as body swapping (similar to what we see in a much later part of JoJo) and I hope this is what you meant, my dear Anon! 🙏❤🥰

If not and you meant for me to write this in another way, I am SO sorry I misinterpreted the request and I sincerely hope you still enjoy this nonetheless! 😅😇

Body swapping with the Pillarmen! 😱 🔁

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Ending up in your body will piss Kars off more than anything really.

• Don't get him wrong, he loves you with all his heart; it's just that he's a man who is rather comfortable in his superiority and status over your race.

• He had worked VERY hard to get himself where he wanted to be afterall...

• Suddenly being reduced to a mere Human is enough to make his (er... your) stomach turn.

• Kars' new "limitations" in your body however didn't stop him from working out how this happened and, more importantly, how to UNDO it ASAP.

• When you happen to come to in Kars' body, the feeling is unsettling and strange to say the least.

• Piloting not only a Pillarmans body but Ultimate lifeform's as well will take you some getting used to for sure.

• For one thing, you'll come to find his hair gets in the way of EVERYTHING.

• If the wind blows or if you happen to turn sharply it's suddenly in your (well... his, but you get the idea) mouth or sticking in your eyes or just plain in your face!

• You can't understand how he stands it at all!

• There's no time for you to ask him to teach you how to wrap it up like he does either to remedy the issue so you have to grin and bear it.

• On the other hand, even the slightest jump in your emotions makes his arm blades spring forth!

• You almost ended up accidentally stabbing Kars (while he was in your body) as a result of getting worked up over the whole matter.

• Kars could only watch you floundering about in his body, frowning and shaking your human head as he told you repeatedly to keep calm and they'll stay put.

• As if you could keep level-headed at all in this situation as it was.

• On the upside ot things however... you learn some interesting things about Kars.

• "...Wait." you paused, peering down at the muscular legs beneath you; your eyes bore into Kars' boots with a critical gaze. There was something cushy sitting just below the heel on the inside.

• "Do you... have cloth wedged into your boots?" A sangria eyebrow raised, ruby eyes falling onto Kars.

• You watched as the features of your own face shifted dramatically, mouth falling open, scandalized. "I--" he began, but your voice fell short as he couldn't find anything to say in defense.

• "Do you do this to make yourself look taller?" A wheeze rose up in the Pillarman's chest, rich barking laughter ringing out as you doubled over in laughter.

• You suddenly came to the realization that you had never once seen Kars without his boots off, the pumps at the very bottom of the boots gave him a little boost as it was but on the inside it quite literally felt like you were wearing a pair of high heels.

• You were starting to wonder just how tall Kars really was. Hell, you were starting to wonder if he even passed Santana in height without these boots on!

• Your laughter fell short as a familiar, much smaller, hand reached up and grabbed your new body by the scarf. You were hauled down to meet the burning and intense gaze of your own eyes, Kars snarling right up into his own face.

• Jeeze, had your face always looked that red when you got angry before?

• "If you speak of this to ANYONE, I will spill each and every one of your own secrets to the others," he growled lowly, giving your voice an uncharacteristically harsh and grating tone. "Am I clear?"

• It took all you had inside not to call him "shortie" once things were finally back to the way they were and you both settled back into your own bodies.

• Despite your curiosity, your question on his exact height would never get answered.

• Kars knew how to put those arm blades to use better than you of course...

Esidisi:

• Oh boy... you have to be VERY careful piloting this one.

• And I mean the absolute definition of careful!

• When your consciousness ends up transfered into Esidisi's body, its no surprise that you feel very warm and fuzzy on the inside.

• It's almost a feeling akin to when you sit just a little too long in a bath that's a little too hot.

• Strangely, it was actually kind of a comforting feeling amongst this whole ordeal.

• However, if you're not careful with your emotions (warm and fuzzy feeling or not) than you might just accidentally end up burning a hole right through the Earth!

• Or worse... end up spraying scalding hot blood and flaying fleshy veins dripping with the stuff in all directions.

• Your core temperature has to constantly be monitored or you'll pay the price.

• It seems like even if you unfocus for one singular second, the Pillarman's entire body starts to smolder like a cake burning in an oven!

• Esidisi, on the other hand, is actually quite enjoying being in your body.

• He's having a much better time than you are for sure. In fact, he's laughing like this is nothing more than a game to him!

• You'll have to keep your eyes on him because he can't keep his (or rather, your) hands off your body.

• "Esidisi!" You barked, the Pillarman's voice was like the clap of thunder as it raised in octave; clearing the air with its power and inevitably startling you (again) even though you were the one wielding it. "Get your hands out of there, right now!"

• Your command was met with laughter, you watched as a wide grin stretched across your own face as Esidisi pried your hands off of your behind (for the 3rd time) and tucked them neatly into your pockets as he continued to giggle to himself.

• "I wasn't doing anything~" he purred, making your voice sound uncannily like a bad child playing innocent, acting wasn't just caught squeezing your cake.

• He was being to curious for his own good.

• That and the fact that he's taking enjoyment out of little ordinary Human things while piloting your body

• Things like feeling actual pain when skin is pinched or when hair is pulled seemed like it could entertain him for hours on end.

• If you don't keep a close eye on him and his shenanigans, you might just end up getting your body back all banged and bruised up if he goes too far with his fun.

• Fair enough, as he might just get his back half-burned into the ground or covered in blood...

Wamuu:

• Wamuu straight up does NOT have a good time dealing with suddenly being Human.

• The fact that it's your body he's in doesn't help that any either.

• 12/10 would NOT do again. 0 STARS!

• Wamuu, always a composed and calculating Warrior and tactician, was now in full panic mode.

• All his life he carried himself with pride, building his little ego off all his strengths and victories because of his status and his incredible unmatchable power.

• Now, with all of that ripped away from him, the Warrior felt too vulnerable and naked for his liking in this Human form.

• "Ow! OW!!!" Wamuu cried, eyes wide as your hands flew to your back. "Why does it hurt there? Do you always have pain like this?" Came the question, it was more than strange (and a little unsettling) to hear your own voice asking you that so desperately.

• "You get used to it." You replied, the deepness of the Pillarman's voice sending deep vibrations through the hardened chest as you spoke.

• "Why-- Why does this body feel so sluggish? I feel so inexplicably weary..." "I know. You get used to that too." "WHY IS EVERYTHING SORE?! WHY IS EVERYTHING CREAKING?!" "It's fine. That's normal."

• On the other hand, your mind suddenly being swapped into Wamuu's body isn't quite as bad as being in the others but... there are still some things to get used to.

• For one thing, it was hard to get used to simply walking around in it.

• Wamuu was so immensely big, muscular and heavy that you felt as if you were shaking the Earth with each step, causing you to lumber and stumble around with no grace to speak of.

• For another, a wirlwind just seemed to follow you wherever you went. It was honestly harder to control than it looked!

• When you wanted it to move one way, it went another. Wind blew up, wind blew down.

• You found yourself standing around, massive hands flying to the loincloth in an attempt to keep it from flinging up and showing too much.

• You wanted to spare least a shred of Wamuu's lost dignity while he wasn't piloting his own body after all.

• His horn is an entirely different matter.

• At one point the breeze blew too strong and the Pillarmen's signature headpiece suddenly flew right off his head and then... out sprang the horn.

• It shot 18 feet into the air, skewering two trees and drilling right through them like an overcharged power drill; a terrifying whir filling the air as chunks of wood flayed in every direction.

• The entire time you screamed in terror (you had no idea Wamuu's voice could go so high until that moment), slicing through an entire plot of trees as Wamuu yelled for you to put it away before it went for something breathing... like your own body that he was currently inhabiting.

• In the end, the relief you both feel to be back in your own bodies once the entire mess is fixed is immeasurable.

• You also both agree to never speak of the experience again for as long as you live.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana is more unimpressed about the whole thing rather than upset or worried.

• Apart from you of course, Santana just barely tolerated Humans (or Primitives as he liked to call them) as it was.

• He often spoke about how fragile and flawed your kind was, honestly the defenselessness of a Human was laughable in his eyes.

• Therefore, he absolutely does NOT like suddenly being reduced to one, even if it is your body.

• The entire time he's practically pouting, the very definition of apathetic, grumbling to himself and following close behind as you tried to chase down the person responsible for the swap.

• "This form is... limiting." Came the low growl, each word sounding so very unlike you despite the fact it was your voice he was using. Santana practically spat as he kept talking, "Flawed. Primal. Defenseless."

• You were handling things admittedly better than Santana but it was still more than overwhelming.

• For one thing, you'll come to find that Santana's senses are extremely heightened.

• You never realized how very unbelieveably strong a sense of smell, taste and hearing could be until now.

• You could smell animals that had passed through the area nearly a fortnight ago just by putting your nose to the air. You could hear the thumping of your own heart from where it sat back in your own chest as Santana followed close at your heels.

• For another thing... Santana's body felt... odd.

• It was a strange and indescribable feeling; it was best put as you felt like a substance that constantly balanced between solid and liquid.

• How on Earth could he stand being a living mass of puddy and sharp deadly bones all the time?!

• As Santana kept grumbling about how very imperfect his new form was, your only hope was to give him that huge bag of gummy bears you had been saving in your bag for later to snack on.

• It would give you a moment of silence to think straight. However, if Santana was himself that would've been a good idea but in this case... not so much.

• "What's wrong?" You questioned, the Pillarman's gravely voice holding a different tone than you were used to as you used it, studying him.

• Santana had suddenly stopped following and was now slumped over, clutching at your stomach. A low whine surfaced, almost a sob, as he spoke through clenched teeth.

• "Do.... not.... feel..... good." Came the whimper. You came rushing to his side, your temorary body dwarfing your real one as you pulled Santana close to see if he had somehow gotten hurt.

• "What--" the question fell short as you spied the now very empty bag of gummy bears laying nearby.

• That bag had been huge, filled to the brim with bright and colourful gushy candy... and Santana had eaten ALL of them.

• It was that day that Santana found out that a Humans biggest flaw was that too much sugar made them sick.

• Good luck with enjoying getting your body back when the time comes as you now suspected you would spend your time kneeled over a bucket with a hot water bottle instead of celebrating...

[spritewrites]

Hi! I love your writing! I was wondering if I could ask for prompt 30 with lee!Essek

oh, anon, if you only knew how much you absolutely can.

this got away from me so far it’s not even funny. like i can’t even see it on the horizon. expand at your own risks, this boi is beefy

30. “I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

“Caleb?”

“Scheiße—” Caleb jumps.

Oh. Essek.

It wasn’t that he… forgot the man was there, that task would be nearly impossible. It’s only that Essek hasn’t spoken in a few hours, and Caleb had been wondering… well. Maybe he isn’t enjoying the book; recommendations for people you don’t know very well can be tricky. Maybe he simply has to go home. Maybe he got a Message from the Bright Queen, announcing that all of the Nein were to be executed immediately.

All were possibilities.

That is why he is surprised to see Frumpkin’s tiny owl form perched on the drow’s shoulder, investigating a studded ear with nimble precision. The shoulder in question is hitched up quite high, seemingly trying to protect the thin skin but only succeeding in giving the owl further access to the pointed tip.

There’s some kind of quivering tension playing around Essek’s lips. Caleb consciously stops himself from staring. It wouldn’t do to offend his research partner.

“He is—ah, he is nibbling me, Caleb,” Essek hisses. His ear flicks, and Caleb watches his fingers twitch, tracing half-beginnings to a number of spells that he seems to reconsider mid-cast before squeezing his hand into a fist.

Oh, dear.

“Frumpkin,” he says sharply, and snaps his familiar back to his own shoulder. Frumpkin immediately chirps and nuzzles the side of his own rounded ear, and Caleb huffs fondly and gives him a little scritch on his head. “Be a good cat. I apologize, he should know better than to attack anyone ticklish. I believe Fjord taught him that lesson rather well.”

He’d hoped the quip would smooth things over well enough to continue their study. Instead, Essek… bristles. “I’m not—I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

Fuck.

“I do not mean to offend,” Caleb says quickly. Frumpkin gives a skeptical quirk of his head, clearly indicating his thoughts on the matter. Well. We can’t all go around rubbing up against attractive wizards, now can we? “I only thought… well, no matter. I am sorry that he bothered you.”

He shoots the drow a look that he hopes comes across as generally respectful and amiable—he is their liaison, after all, and they’ve worked far too hard to jeopardize such a relationship—but Essek’s eyes aren’t on him. They’re off, just slightly, trained on the spot where Frumpkin’s feathers are brushing the crook of Caleb’s neck. “It’s quite alright. You are… not, I suppose?”

Caleb swallows the “No, Nott is the goblin” that wells up in his throat. “Hm? Not what?”

“Not…” Essek gestures vaguely in the direction of his own recently victimized ear. “Not ticklish.”

After several months of dealing with tieflings, the way he stumbles over the word is not lost on Caleb. A flush begins to rise in his cheeks, and he can only hope his scruff hides the full effect of it. “Ah. Ich verstehe. Ja, but not…” He casts a sideways look at Frumpkin, who blinks. Bastard. “Well, a long time with fluffy animals on one’s shoulder builds up a certain tolerance in the area, I suppose.”

Essek also blinks, unreadable. His face is perhaps a bit more violet than it had previously been, but it may also be a trick of the light.

And Caleb could certainly blame that for making him bold, or something pent up inside from sitting across from Essek for two hours and forty-seven minutes without talking, or something else, but...

“It is funny,” Caleb continues before he can talk himself out of it, “that you say that you are immune. You seemed quite ticklish a moment ago.”

Essek goes still. Scheiße, if Caleb could just maintain enough composure around this man to talk about magic and research like a normal person, and not ask personal questions, they might manage to get out of Xhorhas alive.

“You are…” Oh, Essek’s speaking. “You are not wrong, Caleb Widogast. I suppose it has been… a while. I was under the impression that I had grown out of such things.” He clears his throat, and his ear flicks again. Must be involuntary. “It appears I was mistaken.”

Oh.

Well, that wasn’t what Caleb was expecting at all.

“I see.” He manages a small smile. “I will be sure to keep that information away from the others.”

Essek looks alarmed. “Would they… I mean…”

Oh, dear, the Shadowhand might be in greater trouble that even he realizes. Caleb’s smile pulls harder at his dimples at the thought, but he stifles it. “They can be a bit mean, if they know too much. Not to worry, I will keep them at bay for you if anything were ever to… come up.”

The anxiety in Essek’s gaze fades, but his ears are still fixed in Caleb’s direction. It’s rather difficult not to feel like an insect under a glass, with the way his dark blue eyes seem to see far deeper than they should be capable. “They subject you to this as well?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Caleb had not anticipated how difficult this would be to say out loud. “When they can.”

Essek tilts his head. “But not your neck, you say?”

“My, ah. My ribs tend to be a bit more… productive. If that’s the sort of thing you’re after.” The flush is back. Fuck.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Essek looks… curious, almost. Studious. The way he looks when they’re researching, but he’s eyeing the fabric underneath Caleb’s book holsters instead.

Caleb fights the urge to squirm.

“Well,” says Essek, catching Caleb off guard with the breeziness of his tone. “We have work to do, yes? Frumpkin seems to agree with me.”

Indeed, Frumpkin is hopping off Caleb’s shoulder to peck at a bit of blank parchment. Honestly, Caleb wouldn’t put it past him to be doing it on purpose. Probably for the best, either way.

“Yes, yes of course. Apologies, if I overstepped—”

Essek waves him off. “Nonsense. After all,” he grins, “I find it useful to learn the weaknesses of my friends along with my enemies.”

Hm. “It goes both ways, Herr Thelyss.”

He seems to consider this for a moment, glancing between the owl on the table and the blushing wizard sitting across from him. For a moment, Caleb swears he sees something in the smooth lines of his face—something darker, perhaps, or just deeper—but then it’s gone, and the drow is smirking again.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it does.”

[gold3nfics]

Anachronism {Chapter One}

Author's Note: So this is my first written work on here, and I am really excited about this story! This chapter was really just to allow you guys to gain insight into what the story is about and who the boys are. I promise you that Y/N will make an appearance in the next chapter :)

Word Count: 3,814

Our story begins with one man, a man who went by the name Haneul.

Haneul was admired and sought out by many for not only his sharp attributes, but also his magical abilities. He came from a long line of sorcerers before him who had served and protected the realm he resided in.

While he was the one to keep everyone safe, many wondered why he refused to assume leadership, or even live in the nicer part of the land. Instead of living in luxury and riches, he chose to live in the forest away from the bustle of the town solely because he preferred the quiet lifestyle compared to one where many would invade his space and distract him.

One early morning, he woke to frantic knocking at the door of his small cottage.

“Hello?” he opened the door to find that it was one of the royal guards.

“Your presence is requested at the castle immediately.” the young guard says with urgency evident in his voice.

“What happened?” Haneul says now concerned,

“The queen, we believe it is time.”

He grabs his medical supplies and jumps into the carriage heading towards the castle. Once they arrive, Haneul is immediately taken to the royal chambers to begin his work.

Upon entering, his eyes immediately caught sight of the queen writhing in pain surrounded by many servants trying to relieve the pain she was feeling. He approaches the queen with a reassuring smile on his face,

“And how is this young beauty doing?”

“She is not at her best right now.” the queen responds with a weak smile. Haneul releases a sigh of amusement then asks her for permission to check her dilation, after she nods he checks and realizes it is time.

“You, my queen, are about to be a mother in a matter of minutes,” he looks to the servants “bring me warm towels and water.” The servants leave and he focuses on the queen, “I am going to need you to push, but not too hard alright?” She nods and begins to push.

After only seven pushes, the baby is out and the sorcerer carefully wraps the child in a blanket, “Would you like to hold your son my queen?” he says without looking away from the child. When there was no answer, he glances up only to see her going in and out of consciousness.

He immediately hands the baby off to one of the servants and examines her only to find that she has lost too much blood. He does everything he could to revive her, yet she has already passed. He bows his head in shame while holding her cold hand and apologizes, part of him hoping her soul is still lingering around to hear.

Now, there was indeed a ritual he could have done to revive her; however, it is forbidden being that it is far too dangerous to bring a soul back from the underworld.

He stands back with his head hung in sadness, “Alert the king at once.” Just as the servants were gathering to cover the queen's body and filtering out, he approached the servant holding the tiny prince, “May I take him? I need to examine him.” the servant nods and leaves the room.

As he seats himself in a chair behind a divider on the other side of the chambers, he gently looks over the child for any issues. Just as he was almost finished, the child stirs in his slumber raising his small hand to rub his eyes. As the child does this, Haneul catches sight of a white circle on the inside of the child’s hand, at first glance, it appeared as if it was glowing.

Haneul furrows his brows, gently tracing his fingers over the mark. “What is this little guy?”

As he moves to look closer, the servant comes back to collect the young prince to give to the king. He slowly gives away the child and he is soon left to himself to think about what that mark meant. He decides to shake the thought out of his head, and just travel home to rest.

As he rides home on the carriage, he mourns the passing of the young queen. He was quite fond of her, just as everyone else in the realm was. She was not only beautiful, but was also very caring. She would always make jokes and tease others just to have them feel entertained.

Her husband is bound to be heartbroken, he thought in his head. It was no secret the king had worshiped the ground she walked on; not that she didn’t deserve it. The number of times Haneul had overheard the young couple whispering childish jokes to each other, and them arguing over tedious matters were more than he could count. It will be hard to find a woman as kind and unique as she was. I hope her son takes after her. Haneul smiled sadly at this thought.

* * *

As the years passed, Haneul noticed that there have been more and more children who were born with the same white mark that the young prince had. There had been seven boys born throughout the past few years, all of which were born with the same mark and had lost their mothers during childbirth.

“Godammit!” Haneul yells in frustration as he slams his fist onto the table. The table was cluttered with scrolls, books, odd writings, and drawings that even Haneul didn’t even remember taking out. The stressed sorcerer moves over to his bed and faceplants directly onto his pillow.

Not only was he tasked with acting as a teacher to the young prince, keeping the people safe, and being one of the main healers; but he also took it upon himself to figure out what was going on with the seven boys who shared the same mark.

He may have been tired, stressed, and confused; but most importantly, he was worried.

Haneul was a man who believed that there was a reason for everything; death, births, happiness, sadness, there were reasons for all of it. Therefore, he knew that there was a great purpose that followed the seven young boys with the peculiar markings.

* * *

“He follows him as if he was a stray and he threw him a bone. I am surprised Namjoon hasn’t grown irritated.” the young woman says with a tired smile.

“Well Namjoon is quite patient, and I feel that he's the one to keep Jungkook out of trouble,” Haneul responds while packing up his things, “and Yuna, do not forget they both need to meet at my home before dawn.”

“The others will be there, right?” Yuna asks with a glimmer of concern in her eyes,

Haneul grabs her hand as a way to comfort her and stares into her eyes, “They will be there Yuna, they have no choice.” he turns his head to look at the two young men joking around and skipping stones across the foggy pond, “For now, just spend time with the two of them. Okay?”

Yuna’s eyes filled with tears, “Okay, thank you Haneul.”

“Of course” Haneul smiles and bows respectively before departing and starting his journey home.

Haneul has aged considerably throughout the last 20 years, his hair had become greyer and his eyes duller; but his mind and heart were still drawn towards helping people, and to the seven boys with the odd mark, and after many years, he found the answer.

A few months before now, Haneul had stumbled across an old poem.

The world is calm and crops are ripe

Yet underneath its surface lays a darkness waiting to strike

When the circles of seven come to light, so will come a long and frozen fight

A being will propose an idea that the seven circles will see as an answer to end the fight

It is up to the seven circles to decide what path they take, and which is for light and dark

The answer lays at the heart of the one who descends from pure light, for their heart and the seven circles must all reunite

After reading the poem he realized the importance of the young men The poem itself acknowledges a traumatic event that will happen in the time that they are alive, yet it had been months since he found the writing and nothing has happened. However, Haneul knew that something was coming and he came to realize what that was.

You see, two nights prior Haneul had a vision. The vision was not clear, yet it showed a figure whose presence exuded sadness and wisdom. All the figure did was deliver a message that was the following,

“In two days, a frozen death will fall upon your realm. Those seven under the protection of the circle will survive; while all the others will temporarily perish. They will be presented with information that involves seeking another being of pure light to end the frozen death. However, there are two paths they could take with this, but only one being the right one. Do not let them fall into trickery, for that will be their downfall and everything will cease to exist if the wrong path is taken.” and with that, the vision was no more.

Waking from his vision, Haneul knew that he must gather the boys and prepare them for what was to come.

* * *

As Haneul waited for the boys to arrive he put together all of his writings, they were not much but they gave small insight on what was to come. Just as he finished up sorting everything, he caught sight of lanterns and heard the sound of multiple footsteps outside his home.

“Jungkook, if you do not stop stepping on the back of my boots I swear I’m gon-” the voice was cut off by a loud laugh, “What are you going to do Jin? Send your one of the so-called guards after him?” a lazy voice replies.

“Oh that’s rich, coming from a farmer.” a cocky-toned voice chimed in.

“What is that supposed to mean Jimin?” a new deep voice says back, “Guys! Stop it, Haneul is probably hearing everything and I am pretty sure the last thing we want is to embarrass ourselves in front of him.”

Haneul had heard everything; and the last voice was right, they were embarrassing themselves. But the older sorcerer had been rather entertained by their interactions. Putting a sly smile on his face, he opened the front door coming face to face with seven men whose faces varied from shock, embarrassment, to dumbfounded.

“You boys have not changed much, have you?” he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. Namjoon forms a tight-lipped smile, “I am afraid not sir.”

Haneul gestures for them to come in, “Well, let’s not waste any more time.”

Once the boys were led in and settled into Haneul’s study, they began to ask questions. “So why are we here?” Jin asks while the others looked at Haneul.

Haneul looked at them and sighed before speaking,

“Have you ever wondered why you all have those marks on your hands?” Silence.

“Why all of your mothers passed away during your births?” Silence again.

Haneul notices the confused expressions and continues, “Well I did. I knew that there was a reason for those markings and,” he stands and gets a small book, “I found the reason why.”

Haneul gives the book to Namjoon and takes a seat in front of them.

“I spent years gathering, reading, and learning everything about what is just so special about you boys, and all of the knowledge that I have gained can be found in that journal. You boys are a part of what is known as the circle.” The boys look at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain more.

“There was a tale that spoke of seven men being born with the same markings that you boys have. They all possessed special abilities that varied with each one of them. These men used their powers to protect those of their realm and were the ones to keep balance within their realm. However, as time had passed tensions had risen between the seven and because of it, a big fight had happened. Their fight had destroyed not only their bonds, but also ended many people's lives. No one knew the true reason why the fight had happened, but many did not wish to know. Because many innocent people had died as a result of the fight, the people, who were the ones that the seven had sworn to protect, had seen the seven protectors as dangerous and a threat. So they decided to kill them.”

Jimin perks up and scoffs, “I doubt their attempts would have worked, you said they had powers right?”

“Jimin,” Namjoon said, “be quiet and let him continue.”

“Anyways, one of the seven had been informed about the people’s plan to assassinate them and told the other six. That night they had decided to willingly sacrifice themselves, and their lives, to no longer cause suffering and sadness among their people. Now, it seems that the gods have decided to pass on the tale by blessing you seven with the marks.”

“So, we are now the protectors of our realm?” Seokjin asks in a tone that gives the impression he is not thoroughly convinced.

The older man sighs, “Yes, and I know this sounds odd but-”

Yoongi cuts him off laughing, “Haneul, please. We are not people of importance, except for Jin and Jimin. Most of us have grown up struggling and some despising one another. Now you say that just because we have similar marks, and our mothers are dead, it makes us special?”

“Yoongi hear him out, you-”

“Oh Jungkook please, we are nothing and have been nothing for most of our lives.”

“Yoongi,” Haneul starts, “you do not have to believe me right now. None of you do, but something is about to happen and you need to understand what to do.” He gives Namjoon the poem that he had found, which related to the prophecy of the seven who all sat before him.

“After finding that poem, I had a vision where a figure appeared to me and spoke of a ‘frozen death’ that will fall upon our people.” the boys' faces grow concerned, “To end it and bring back the balance of our realm, you boys are to venture outside our realm, find a certain being, and bring them back here.” the boys erupt with multiple questions in response.

“Wait, how do you travel outside our realm?”

“How do we know it's them?”

“What do we do once we find them?”

“What about our families?”

It seems that after that last question, everyone grew silent. Taehyung’s eyes had begun to grow watery, “What about my dad? Will he be okay?”

Haneul grew somber, “Your families, as well as everyone here, will be okay with whatever happens while you are searching for the being. However, their lives depend on what path you take once you are all back here together. In the book that I gave you, it tells you how to get to and from the realm in which the being lives.”

Haneul gets up and notices that the sun is almost up. “I do not have much time, but there is one last thing.” he turns towards the boys, “My vision also said that you would be approached with an idea and to be awar-” Haneul’s breathing had grown rapid as he fell to the ground while clutching his heart.

“Haneul!” Junkook had yelled before getting up and running towards him along with the rest of the boys. “Can you hear me? Haneul?” Namjoon asks while kneeling beside him, feeling for a pulse.

His breathing starts to slow down and he reaches out to grasp Namjoon’s hand; the boys are shocked to see a layer of frost had begun to form around his hand slowly moving up his arm.

“B-be caref-ful, d-do not allow yourselves t-to be fooled. Trust your h-hearts and e-each other. Rememb-ber,” Haneul moves his gaze towards the book he had given now in the grasp of Jungkook, “everything is i-in that b-book.” and with that, the frost overcomes his body and his breathing stops.

The boys stood in shock as the man, who had been a role model for all of them and helped so many people, become absorbed by ice and had fallen into a death-like sleep.

Namjoon stands up and takes the book that was in Jungkook's hands, and he began to head out of the house. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jin exclaims following after him.

“To do what we’re supposed to do. I am going to find a way out of this realm, find who I need to find, and do whatever I need to do to get everyone back.” Namjoon states without stopping.

Yoongi scoffs, “You? In case you don’t remember, Haneul said ALL of us have to work together to resolve this, not just you.” Namjoon stops and turns and furrows his brows, “Weren’t you just going on about how you don’t believe in any of this and how we couldn’t do anything?”

“Yes, but that was before I saw Haneul become a block of ice. I still don’t believe we have powers, that seems rather far-fetched.” Yoongi crosses his arms, “Are you saying that Haneul is a liar?” Jin challenges.

“Not entirely.” Yoongi replies in a cold tone, “I am more confused than anything, I mean how the hell are we supposed to know who this being is once we enter their realm?” Everyone is silent, and Namjoon sighs in defeat, “Does anyone have any idea?” Yoongi asks with frustration evident in his tone.

“I have an idea.”

The boys all turn towards the front of Haneul’s house and see a young woman leaning against the doorway. Jimin steps in front of all of them with a hand on his sword, “Who the hell are you?” the woman raises her hands in defense and smiles calmly,

“My name is Ara, I am a friend of Haneul. It would be best not to harm someone who is here to help you.” The boys grow suspicious and Hoesok speaks up, “Haneul didn’t mention you.”

Ara lowers her hands “He didn’t need to,” she tilts her head glancing at all of the boys, “did you really think that he was the only magical being?”

She snaps her fingers and Jimin’s sword appears in her hands making the boy move forward to retrieve it, “Look, I am not here to harm you, and you having a weapon against me will not solve anything.” She moves her wrist to make an invisible force push Jimin onto the ground. Some of the boys stifle a laugh upon seeing the young guard get huffy and brush off his clothes.

“Your marks.” Ara states, the boys look at her in confusion.

Namjoon looks at her, “What? What do you mean by our marks?”

“Your marks, they will help you find who you are looking for.” Ara leans back and looks at him lazily, “Your marks are similar to magnets, they will lead to one another due to their bonds. As for what you need to do with the being once you get them back here; you must bring you eight and your marks to me to restore the balance.”

Jungkook grows confused, “Why would we do that?”

Taehyung steps forward “Yeah, and what about the story?” Ara furrows her brows, “What story?”

“The one about the seven men who were marked and the protectors of their realm.” Taehyung pauses, “There were seven men in the story and now you're telling us that there are eight?”

Ara stills and sighs while her expression grows serious, “Do you know why your people have frozen into a deep sleep?” The boys shake their heads, “Because there were only supposed to be seven of you, seven protectors. But it appears that an eighth being has been born with the mark as well; however, they are not of this realm meaning that your bonds are not entirely connected. It was a mistake, so you boys and them must come back here and break the bond from them, and then peace and life will be restored.” Ara finishes.

The boys are silent for a moment as if to fully grasp the information they had just been given. “So we travel, find, and bring back the being, then you will break the bond?” Jin asks, “Yes.” Ara responds with a comforting smile.

“And everyone will come back perfectly fine?” Taehyung asks in a hopeful tone. “Yes, everything will go back to how things were before. Except for you now being the protectors of this realm.”

“Wait, what about our powers?” Ara turns her head towards Jungkook, “Aren’t we supposed to have powers?”

Ara grins mischievously, “You will need to figure that out on your own, your guy’s powers will come to you naturally.” She stands, “For now, you boys must travel and find the being.” Ara gives Jimin his sword back and begins to walk away towards the path that leads to their town.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks and Ara stops and turns. “Someone has to make sure things here remain okay until you get back.”

“Wait a second!” Hoseok yells out, “Why aren’t you frozen? I thought everyone in this realm would fall into a frozen sleep?” Upon hearing this the boys got curious and all stared at her. Ara’s face grew serious, “Because I am not of this realm.” and with that, she vanished into thin air.

The boys all stand there in silence. Namjoon turns his gaze to the book and opens it trying to find out how to transfer them out of their realm.

“I found it,” the boys look towards him, “the book says that we must join hands and visualize the portal into existence.”

“Yeah right, I’m not holding any of your hands.”

“Oh shut up and take my hand Jimin.” Jin says annoyed while grabbing both Jimin and Taehyung’s hands.

“Alright, everyone close your eyes,” Namjoon states and closes his own, “okay now focus on visualizing the portal.”

“How do you even visualize?”

“It’s like imagining, but more detailed.”

“That's confusing, and it also sounds hard”

“Shut up Jimin!” Everyone says while Jimin sighs dramatically.

After a few moments, the seven men felt their marks stinging slightly and a large gust of wind had blown in front of them. Once they all opened their eyes, they saw a large circle of light in the middle of all of them.

Namjoon steps forwards and looks to the rest of the boys, “Here goes nothing.” and with that, they all walk through the portal.

[unnecessarywriting]

How Did You Come to That Conclusion - Sirius Black

Request: Hello!! If you have time, would you be able to do a Christmas themed one where Sirius and the reader are long time friends with mutual crushes on each other and they kiss under the mistletoe by accident and then some misunderstandings and then some fluff?

A/N: Merry Christmas. I hope you all enjoy. There are 2-3 more fics coming out today. My gift to you all!

Italics are Flashbacks

How Did You Come to That Conclusion

The common room during Christmas break was typically the most soothing place to be. Most students wanted to get back to their families. You, on the other hand, were perfectly okay with staying with the quiet warmth. Typically the only sounds were the fire crackling, pages turning, cups clinks, and the occasional laugh from one of the other students that stayed at Hogwarts. This was usually the only time of year that you actually saw Mcgonagall relax. This year however, a particular group of boys chose to stay too.

Most days, you didn’t have any problems with the boys. Oftentimes, you were around them and you could even be considered one of their friends. In fact, James knew a lot about your life that you wish he didn’t. See, at the beginning of this school year, he caught wind of what you were feeling for a mutual friend. 

“Ohh, is Ms. Y/L/N feeling a bit jealous of Sirius?” James teased. 

“Haha,” you awkwardly laughed away your blush, “as if I would ever be jealous because of someone like him.”

“Merlin! You really do like him don’t you? Oh, I can’t wait to tell Sirius. This is going to be -”

“This is going to be nothing Potter. You are not going to say a word about this to Sirius or to anyone,” you were practically growling through clenched teeth. 

“Or what? Listen Y/N this could be great for -”

“For no one. Please James, I’m begging you to just forget about it.”

“Forget about what?” Sirius appeared beside you. You looked to James who sighed. 

“Forget about nothing. Don’t worry about it.” You breathed a sigh of relief at James’ response. When you looked away, you missed the subtle wink sent to Sirius that told him he would find out soon enough. 

You and Sirius had been pretty close friends since the beginning of your time at Hogwarts. As he grew older, and hotter, his fans became more present in your life. You eventually took a step back to avoid the constant hateful glares sent your way for studying with a longtime friend. You didn’t stop spending time with him entirely though. He was still your friend, and if you were being honest, you liked knowing that you had his attention. It didn’t hurt any less, though, when he could be found around the school with any one of the girls in your year. 

Since you were spending your Christmas break with the Marauders at Hogwarts, you decided to make the most of it. You would join in some of the pranks, and you would sneak out a night with one of the boys to go down to the kitchen. With the help of their map and James’ cloak, you were all practically unstoppable. Christmas Eve was no exception. That night, you and Sirius were sent down to grab some food from the kitchen. It was late, and you were all planning on staying up past midnight to start your day off right with each other. 

In the common room, James was forming a plan. He was going to get the two of you together. He knew that you two liked each other, and he wasn’t fond of being caught in between something that could be solved if either one of you had the confidence to tell the other. 

“Moony, you think this’ll work right?” Remus looked at his friend and nodded slowly. 

“I guess it could, but I think this is something that should happen naturally. Why force something on them? This could also push them apart and make things more awkward.”

“That won’t happen though. My plan is foolproof.” James heard a snicker from his friend.

He had told them almost immediately after you had told James. He couldn’t hold it in for very long. Typically, he was good at secret-keeping but this time he needed to let loose. Remus wasn’t all that surprised and Peter seemed unaware of how Sirius felt. 

Down in the kitchens, you and Sirius were joking around. The two of you always managed to have fun together. It was almost like getting caught would be worth it if you were going to be with him. You didn’t know, but Sirius was thinking the exact same thing. 

“You know, if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was say so.” You laughed at his remark. 

“So shameless. Remember Sirius, James is the one who sent us. I didn’t make this decision by my own account.” Your relationship was full of flirtatious and witty remarks. It was a part of your charm. He most certainly was attracted to it. 

One of the many things Sirius liked about you was that you were willing to talk back to him. Most of the other girls would just crumble at everything he said to them. Not you. You would come back with something witty or sarcastic. Of course, this was only one of many things he adored about you.

As you two were returning to the common room, there was this energy between you two. Something told him that it was now or never. You said the password to enter the portrait hole. 

“Listen Y/N, I need to talk to you.” You stopped and told him to continue. Then he started to lean in for a quick peck on the lips. It was short and sweet, but he hoped that it got the message across that he liked her. When his eyes met yours, he was met with hurt. Your eyes were slightly glossy and were looking past him at James, who was smiling at the two of you. Then he heard you speak. 

“You know, I thought that you were a good guy. I truly believed it, but this is just cruel. Most pranks, well, most pranks I can handle. I’d like to think that I’m a good sport, but this was too far. James, I trusted you with my secret, and clearly you ignored my wishes. And you,” you pointed your finger at Sirius’ chest, “you had no right to follow through with such a stupid idea. What, did you think it was funny to make fun of the girl who likes you? Is it really that amusing to play with someone’s emotions? And what do you know, you had an audience too. You’re the worst Sirius Black. I don’t know what I ever saw in you!” You stomped your way up to your door and slammed it shut as the tears streamed down your face. Your salty tears would be the only thing offering comfort that night. 

The common room was silent for a moment. The boys had never seen you completely lose it like that before. Sirius was confused to say the least, but then he looked up above his head. The mistletoe that was hanging above his head suddenly burned to ash as he sent a charm that way. He turned to look at his best friend. 

“Prongs, why did you think that this would be a good idea?” James looked incredibly guilty and full of regret. 

“Padfoot, I just wanted the two of you to finally get together. I thought that this would push you in the right direction, but it clearly didn’t work out that way. Plus, she kinda had a point about me breaking her trust.” 

“What did you do Prongs?” Sirius was getting angry.

“Well, she kinda let it slip that she has feelings for you, and well I told these guys without her permission, or knowledge.” James looked down guiltily. Sirius couldn’t believe the situation, but now he understood how this hurt her. He was going to fix this, but he just needed her to leave the room.

 You were in your dorm crying in both embarrassment and pain. How could James betray your trust like that? And how could Sirius play into such a stupid prank? You thought that maybe, just maybe, you could have a chance with him, but of course he had to turn around and be a jerk. You were hurt, but you also couldn't stop thinking about his lips on yours. Before you realized what was going on, you were in heaven. They were just as soft as your thought, and he tasted slightly like peppermint from the candy cane he was eating before you made it back to the common room. 

Sirius stayed in the common room for hours. He was hoping that he would catch you coming down from the dorm. He was falling asleep when he finally heard you. You thought that you were being stealthy, and you were, but when the portrait closed behind you, Sirius was startled back to consciousness. He wasn’t sure if it was you at first, but he needed to make sure. He grabbed the map from the table and saw your name retreating to the kitchens. Of course. You left the common room before you could eat any of the snacks from earlier. You had also mentioned needing to make the trip to Hogsmeade to get some more sweets because you had run out a few days before. He got up abruptly and stumbled out into the hall to catch up to you. 

It was almost 3 AM by the time you had escaped the common room. You saw Sirius asleep on the couch, and you couldn’t help but thank Merlin for letting you escape him. You most certainly were not in the mood to deal with him. You were exhausted, emotional, and more importantly, hungry. You made it to the kitchens and started scouring for anything that you could get your hands on.

“Excuse me Miss, but it appears that you might need some help.” The second you heard his voice, you felt the anger bubble within. You didn’t say anything in return. If there is something that Sirius hates more than anything, it’s being ignored. 

“Ignoring me eh? I guess I deserve that, but that works because I just need you to listen to m- Hey where are you going?” You started to walk out of the kitchens. You had lost your appetite. He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back towards him. 

“Stay put and listen, will ya?” You nodded reluctantly knowing he wasn’t going to let you go. “I get why you’re mad, but you don’t know what happened. I didn’t know what James was planning. I was trying to tell you how much I like you. I think you’re the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the entire world. You make my heart beat faster every time you look at me, and you take my breath away every time you laugh. I am falling hard for you Y/N and I don’t want James’ stupid attempts at getting us together to push us apart. If you want to be mad at Prongs, then be mad at him. Hell, I’m mad at him too, but trust me when I say that I want to be with you.” You stayed silent for a moment and processed everything. Okay, so maybe you jumped to conclusions a little quickly, and Sirius did sound quite, well serious. 

“So you like me huh?” You said cheekily. You might as well play it cool since you were lowkey freaking out inside that he actually really liked you.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” He pulled you closer towards his body and smirked as he leaned down for a real kiss. It was like a fairytale. You smiled into the kiss, and pulled away. 

“This is great and all, but I’m still hungry.” He laughed and helped you find some food. 

The two of you retreated back to the common room, where you met James. He went to speak, but you put your hand up to stop him.

“I’m not happy about the trust thing, but you did have good intentions. Happy Christmas James. My gift to you is forgiveness. Take it.” He smiled and sighed out in relief. 

“Thank Merlin!” He pulled the two of you into a hug. “So, you two are together?” You and Sirius just smiled at each other. He was the best gift you could have received.

[beautiful-and-terrible]

dazed ‘n’ confused (part 4)

A/N: just a quick chapter for you guys before i have to put this story on the back burner :( i have an annual essay coming up in school that i gotta focus on. anyway, hope you like the gangs drunk shennanigans

Ship: Rodrick Heffley / OFC

Warnings: underage drinking / drug use, inebriated driving (DONT DRIVE DRUNK KIDS THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY DONT BE STUPID :) )

---

“If we get caught, my mom’ll kill me,” Rodrick groaned.

“Let’s bounce,” Nicole said, untangling herself from him and grabbing his hand as they ran further into the back yard, looking for an escape route.

“I’ll boost you,” Rodrick said, gesturing to the fence. Nicole nodded, not thinking of a better plan, and wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. She stepped into the make-shift step Rodrick made with his palms, and as she swung a leg over the fence, he pushed her the rest of the way. It wasn’t the most graceful execution, and she ended up landing on her ass with a grunt of pain.

Rodrick also clumsily made his way over the fence - both of them being drunk and high didn’t help their coordination much. “Sorry, are you good?” Rodrick said, clutching his shin, and Nicole waved him off.

“It’s fine, let's just get to the van.”

“Oh, fuck, the van!” Rodrick hissed, “The pigs are totally gonna know it’s mine.” With a big fucking stupid band name written on the side, Nicole reckoned he was right - it was pretty easy to identify, even without the plates.

“I can drive, don’t worry,” Nicole said, already starting toward the white van, creeping between other cars on the street.

“Nikky, you’re as trashed as I am, no way am I letting you drive.”

“Trust me, hot Rod,” Nicole said, slipping her hand into his front pocket and pulling out his keys before he could even blink. As they approached his van, Chris and Ben appeared in the shadows next to them, whispering excitedly as they spotted them.

“As soon as we saw the lights we bolted,” Ben snickered, but Chris looked concerned.

“Yo, I hope Caitlin doesn’t get arrested. There was a lotta booze in there,” he muttered, and Ben smacked his arm.

“You whipped, dude?”

Chris scoffed, “No, I would just feel bad for anyone in that sitch.”

“I agree,” Nicole said, feeling guilty that she couldn’t help Caitlin get out of trouble.

“C’mon, let’s fucking go,” Rodrick said, and all at once the four of them dashed to the van. Nicole jumped in the driver's seat, shoving the key in the ignition with some fumbling, and peeling out from their parking spot across the street from Caitlin’s house with enough force to make even Rodrick proud.

“We’ll make a NASCAR driver out of you yet, Nikky,” Rodrick laughed, whooping as he leaned his head out the window like a dog, the night air tangling through his hair. Ben scrambled up to the front seat from the back of the van, fiddling with the radio before he settled on a station playing “Where Is My Mind” by Pixies. Nicole turned up the volume to its top capacity, concentrating on the road lines in front of her. The adrenaline of avoiding the cops had sobered her up a little, but she was still feeling paranoid from the weed and drowsy from the beer. She drove as slowly as she dared so as not to seem suspicious. 

“Thanks for being our getaway driver, Nicole,” Chris said, his words slurring a little more than she had noticed previously. She looked back and saw him chugging a beer in the back.

“Dude, don’t fucking drink while I’m driving! We’re already in deep shit as it is,” Nicole said, turning on to the main street of downtown Plainview. Just a few more turns and they’d be home.

“You’re deep in something, alright,” Ben cackled, and he and Chris high-fived.

“Yeah, six inches deep in your mom,” Nicole shot back, and Rodrick let out an “ooooooo”, pointing at Ben, “Gotcha, bitch.”

Eventually, by some miracle, they made it to Nicole’s street. She hit the curb as she pulled up in front of her and Rodrick’s house, causing all three boys to shriek in unison. Nicole dissolved into giggles, both in relief of finally being out of danger and in reaction to the boys high-pitched screams of indignation.

“She’s an antique, Nikky!” Rodrick said, jumping out of the van to stumble to the front and assess the damage.

“Oh, I’m fine, by the way,” Nicole snarked, and Rodrick suddenly looked at her intensely, giving her a slightly blurry-eyed up-and-down look. 

“Fine as hell,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear, and she blushed, biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Rodrick, can we crash at your place,” Ben asked, Chris making puppy dog eyes at him.

“Me too - I don’t wanna wake my parents up. Our front door is creaky as shit,” Nicole said.

Rodrick sighed loudly, as if he were being asked to do something terribly inconvenient. 

“Yeah, fine. Y’all want mac and cheese?”

The four of them, all drunk and high as kites, looked at each other and nodded in perfect synchronicity. 

As quietly as they could for four fucked up teenagers, they snuck their way into Rodricks kitchen. He pulled out a four pack of Kraft Mac and Cheese microwave cups from the pantry, filling them all with way too much water and sticking all four of them, at the same time, in the microwave.

“Dude, can I eat this beef jerky?” Chris asked, rummaging through the pantry.

“They’re my dads,” Rodrick said, as if that offered an explanation. “If you wanna explain to him why they’re gone, knock yourself out.”

Chris slowly put the bag back, looking put out.

Nicole stood next to Ben, both of them leaning on the kitchen counter. Nicole looked over at him, and he looked back, giving her a little smile. He wasn’t bad looking, but where as Rodrick was endearing because he tried to seem cool and really wasn’t, Ben had an effortless coolness about him.

“Thanks for coming with us tonight, Ben,” Nicole said. The alcohol must be making her feel emotional. After all, they had only just met today.

“Aww, Nikky, of course! I never pass up an opportunity for debauchery,” Ben said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He pronounced debauchery like “de-booch-ery”, but Nicole was too drunk to catch the mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodrick glaring at Ben. Dumbass, he has no reason to be jealous, Nicole thought to herself, and gave him a little reassuring wave by wiggling her fingers in his direction.

“Yo, be careful on this mac, its fucking hot,” Rodrick said, pulling the cups out of the microwave. They still had water in them, and the cheese powder wasn’t fully mixed in, but in the moment it was the most delicious thing Nicole had ever tasted.

“Should we watch a movie?” Ben suggested, and Chris bounced on his toes excitedly.

“Killer Clowns from Space!! Pleeeaaaase! You’ve been promising me for weeks now that we’d watch it.”

Ben sighed, Rodrick rolled his eyes, but Nicole had no opinion on the subject, so she made the executive decision to say, “I’m down.”

Ben and Rodrick both groaned, and Chris gave her a fist bump from across the kitchen island.

“Nikky has taste, sorry guys,” Chris said, looking very smug as he slurped his luke-warm mac and cheese.

They all somehow stumbled up to Rodrick’s room - Nicole belatedly realized she had been dreaming about being in his room for weeks, and now that she was here took the time to really appreciate what was in front of her.

A person’s room can tell you everything you need to know about them. For one, Rodrick was messy, but no more messy than any other average teenage boy. Clothes on the floor and the back of his desk chair, thrown haphazardly over a bean-bag in the corner of the room. There were christmas lights strung from the ceiling, both white and rainbow, that gave the room a cozy vibe that Nicole would’ve never expected from Rodrick.

His walls were mostly covered in band posters, and above his desk there was a cork board littered with tickets of concerts he had been to. Nicole almost seethed with jealousy at the sheer amount and quality of concerts he had been to - Leftover Crack, Pleasure Venom, Less than Jake, and one of Nicole’s personal favorites, Mannequin Pussy.

“You like Mannequin Pussy?” Nicole said, whipping her head around to look at Rodrick. 

“That's not the only kind of pussy he likes,” Ben hollered, causing Chris to smack him upside the head.

“There's a lady present, dumbass,” Chris said, and Ben raised his hands in surrender.

“I think you mean that’s the only kind of pussy he gets,” Nicole said, throwing a teasing wink toward Rodrick, who blushed bright red.

“Yeah, they’re good. Romantic is my favorite album,” Rodrick said, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. Ben and Chris started making kissing noises in his direction, and Rodrick threw a pillow at them.

As Chris and Ben fought over who would set up the projector, Nicole let her snooping instincts take over, looking at the other miscellaneous things Rodrick had around his room - empty liquor bottles filled with more lights, a surprising amount of books (mostly graphic novels), a lava lamp filled with miniature rubber ducks, and mushroom paraphernalia. Everywhere. His pillowcases, the tapestry above his bed, and the stickers on his water bottle all had holographic or brightly colored mushrooms on them. She was so absorbed in her investigation she didn’t even notice Rodrick next to her until he spoke.

“Committing it to memory? You might never be in here again,” Rodrick said with a small smirk. Nicole gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t count on it, babe,” Nicole said boldly. She felt the warmth of Rodrick’s hand on her hip, and looked up at him. And his lips. She wanted to kiss him again so badly it was like a drug, her body telling her to get her next fix as quickly and as often as possible. Being in his space, the place he let himself be his most authentic self, was very intimate, even with Chris and Ben still arguing in the corner.

Rodrick looked away shyly, squeezing her hip once before turning back to the boys. Chris had evidently lost the rock-paper-scissors match to set up the movie on the projector, and was adjusting the screen on the far wall of Rodrick’s room, trying to find a website to pirate the movie from.

“If we’re gonna watch this shit let’s do it,” he said, settling himself in the beat up reclining chair he had, arms above his head. He should be illegal, Nicole thought to herself, making herself comfortable on the bed.

Which ended up being a mistake, because 20 minutes into the movie, Nicole was asleep. She felt a blanket being gently placed over her before she was dead to the world.

[tocrackerboxpalace]

Le Rêve - Part 5

Summary: John goes to a certain friend to seek advice. Paul has an eerily similar idea.

The door cracked open, and Brian stared back at him in surprise.

John pushed his way into the room, ignoring the flutter of guilt as Brian stumbled backwards. His eyes followed John closely as he crossed the room, surely taking in the unsettling blend of anger and nerves. Brian slowly closed the door behind him as John irritably shoved a stack of papers off of the armchair and lowered himself into it. It was then that he realized he must have been in a bad sort, because the action garnered no sour or disapproving glares.

“Everything all right, John?” He tugged self-consciously at the belt on his gown, pulling the fabric closer around him.

No. John scoffed. Everything is quite the opposite of all right, thanks. Making no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice, John replied stiffly: “Eppy, I need your help with something.”

Brian took a seat opposite him on the edge of the bed, crossing an ankle over his knee apprehensively. John averted his gaze, seeing and hearing only Paul as the bed dipped with a creak. He fingered the fringe on the armchair, pushing the scene away and with it, hopefully, some of his animosity. It would be no use if he uncontrollably berated perhaps the only man he knew that could help him.

“Right,” Brian replied. John could practically feel the probing gaze burning into his side. “What is it?”

John stared back at him, dumbfounded. The idea that he’d have to explain himself to get Eppy’s advice had never actually occurred to him before this moment.

What could he possibly say? Hey, Eppy. Paul’s been having wet dreams about me, so we almost fucked. Did practically everything but the actual shagging. But we didn’t, because George walked in on it and ran to tell Ringo and God knows who else, while Paul and I screamed at each other and may have effectively ended the Beatles and also our lives.

John almost laughed. Oh, and one more thing. It was my idea in the first place, because I think I’m fucking in love with him.

He was buzzing with hundreds of thousands of thoughts, his mind never having felt so full. Dozens of clips played simultaneously in his memory: Paul’s stare, his shame, his wonder, his willingness, his arousal, his unraveling. His fear, his shock, his pain. And then nothing.

John would punch himself, if he could. Perhaps that’s what he should’ve done instead. Snuck out the back alley and taunted a right frightening lad, until he could get what he bloody deserved and be beaten to a pulp. It sounded far better and warranted than sitting in Brian’s room in heart-wrenching silence.

He had to be fucking crazy to suggest the reenactment. There was no other explanation for it; no one in their right mind would put their entire livelihood on the line for such fleeting pleasure. There were what-if’s about his future and the band’s endurance, of course. But they took the backseat to his concerns over him and Paul. As individuals, rather than bandmates or friends or even lovers. John’s mind knew all too well that their dynamic could never be: societally speaking, yes, but personally, too. Paul knew John—and was far too smart to chain himself to such a burden.

All of John’s fears that had developed over the past few weeks had looked him in the eye tonight and told him that they’d dreamt of having sex with him. They had moaned into his ear, the most beautifully obscene sounds expressed just for him. Just for him, and not some other bird; for a moment, there was no need to pretend anymore.

What might have been the most painful, John reckoned, was that they had let him kiss them. A shock traveled down John’s spine. Paul had let John kiss him, and Paul had kissed back. It was the first time in their sudden union that feeling shot somewhere besides John’s cock. When Paul’s lips nipped at his with abrupt insistence, John could’ve wept.

John could be stripped of everything he had, and still go on. Possessions, wealth, fame, dignity, sense of self—it was all meaningless. The only thing he couldn’t bear was the thought of losing Paul. A life where John could not cling to the hope of holding Paul tightly; of feeling Paul’s breath on his own; of cradling his head in his hands and ghosting his fingertips across sinfully sweet eyelashes and arched eyebrows that would taunt Marilyn and a nose sculpted by Phidias and lips that were made from the stardust on Mars; was not a life worth living.

For a long time, they were silent.

Brian was watching him with guarded apprehension. John could ask the practical questions that even then felt too incriminating. How do you know if you’re gay? When did you realize? What did you do? What do I do?

“I’m not sure how to help you,” Brian started, his voice careful and soft despite jarring John out of his trainwreck of thought, “if you don’t share what’s got you so worked up.”

John swallowed. The next part had to come very carefully, or his cover would be blown. Though he knew he was only delaying the inevitable, somehow, the fact that Brian remain oblivious to the details was crucial to him.

“I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.” He spoke slowly, refusing eye contact. “It was something I’d thought about, but I went too far.” A shaky breath. “A-and… I’m not sure—I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Something just short of clarity sparked in Brian’s eyes. John’s face grew hot with shame, albeit swearing he didn’t give away anything unnecessary.

“Well,” Brian opened. His eyes were too kind. If only he knew. “We all make mistakes. Even if you think you’ve never messed up this badly, it’s all right. Time moves forward and life goes on. You can’t change what’s been done now. But you can take your best shot at apologetics. If this person—if there is a person—and they really love you, you can always fix it.”

John’s heart gave an uncomfortable twitch at the mention of “love”.

Brian shifted closer to John, reaching towards the arm of the chair. He tentatively rested a hand on top of John’s, and though he knew the intention was reassurance, the gesture made him feel sick. An odd expression crossed his face, the twitch enough to capture John’s gaze, but it was gone before he could interpret it. John’s gaze flicked to Brian’s lips. They were pressed together tightly, forming a worried line.

A striking realization occurred to him. John could lean in, right now. He could pry the lips open with his own. A bit of a shift in his chair, and all he had to do was tip forward. Brian would let him; he knew that.

Then, as he deepened the kiss, heightened the circumstances, he would know. He wouldn’t have to try and ambiguously skirt around the problem to get Eppy’s advice. John would know, for sure. Whether it was himself, or whether it was…

“Eppy? Eppy, you in there?” Despite the rapid succession of about seven knocks, the voice wasted no time waiting for a response and slipping inside the door. John lurched back into the chair, despite not actually having gotten closer.

Whether it was just Paul.

“Eppy, I need your help with something.” The words tumbled out of Paul’s mouth, his back still turned to the room as he went to close (and lock, mind you) the door. When he turned around, his eyes immediately fell on John’s face and he went still.

“Oh,” he said, hoarsely.

John’s mind was absolutely blank, his stomach twisting grossly. His mind had lost the ability to spontaneously produce language as he gaped at the man in front of him. He hadn’t intended on seeing Paul for quite a while after tonight, and the shock of his presence right now was utterly baffling. The two stared at each other for far too long, neither making any effort to move or speak. It was only when Brian piped up that their stares finally shifted from the other.

“Paul?” The inquiry held much more than the one word. “Are you all right?”

John watched Paul’s head twitch a bit, almost as if he were about to shake it. Both boys very well knew the answer to that question.

Paul forced a distracted smile in Brian’s direction. “Right chuffed.”

Interesting choice of words, there. John’s nose crinkled into a scowl.

Brian’s gaze continued to drag between the two of them almost curiously. He was no fool; John knew he was sensing the tension that seemed far from their regular spats. He didn't intervene, though. Only watched.

Finally, John worked up the courage to spew in Paul’s direction. The words carried just as much bitterness as he’d intended. “What are you doing here?”

Paul blinked. “I need Brian’s…” He faltered. “Advice.”

John snorted. His heart was hammering so violently in his chest he was sure the room could hear it. The reality of seeing Paul again so suddenly was blinding. God, he wanted to hurt him. He wanted nothing more than to break Paul, to cut so deep that Paul could never in a million years guess what was truly going on in his head. “Ain’t that so,” he spat. “But, if you can’t tell, we’re in the middle of something. So kindly fuck off.”

“John.” Brian’s voice, a warning tone.

Paul’s expression twisted in sudden vitriol. His voice was low, directed entirely at John. “What is your fucking problem? I didn’t make you do a goddamn thing.”

Something cool settled in the pit of John’s stomach at Paul’s final quip. Don’t you think I fucking know that? he wanted to scream. Don’t you know that’s what I’m here for? To find out why?

Suddenly, the reality of the situation came rushing to him, and a newfound fury spiked his veins. Was Paul coming in here to tell Brian what happened? To tell him that John had made a pass at him, or something? John would be painted as the villain. As an attacker.

“Did you finish after I left?” John asked quietly.

The look on Paul’s face was a glittering trophy. Before he could answer, however, Brian abruptly rose to his feet. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but—”

No, no, no. “Don’t go,” John choked out hoarsely.

He shot John a warning glance. “—It doesn’t seem like any of my business. You two need to talk this out on your own.”

John hardly registered Brian grabbing his coat from the rack by the door and slipping out of the room. His eyes were trained on Paul’s, a vicious visual battle between the men that conveyed more than all words ever could. John felt Paul radiating towards him in ways that had no conceptualization, no name; just raw, unadulterated emotions. The pair had always been on that telepathic wavelength, though certainly it was no great pleasure for them now. The only identifiable sensation was vulnerability.

After a long time, Paul spoke. “John.”

John’s breath inexplicably caught in his throat. The words came out choked. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t say it like that.”

Paul threw up his hands in exasperation, casting his gaze sideways. “I don’t know what you want me to do, John. I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Is that what you want? An apology?”

It wouldn’t be until long after that John would realize it was an offer Paul never followed through on.

“It shouldn’t have happened. There’s a million reasons for that. I don’t know if either of us really even wanted it to. But it did, and you can’t—” Paul ran a shaking hand through his hair. “You’re not helping me figure this out. You can’t run away from this like it’s just another bother in your life, like… like I’m an inconvenience.” Paul’s lip trembled slightly. “Am I an inconvenience, John?”

John shrugged helplessly. It seemed like the wrong answer, but how do you give an answer to a question you don’t know?

“Fucking say something.”

John looked him dead in the eye. It was funny; Paul had always been teased for his eyes. They were droopy and wide in a cartoonish fashion, remarkably like that of a puppy, or a doe. His lips could form the most filthy utterances (as they often did, the cheeky bastard), but the meaning was washed away by the pure innocence of the eyes. They betrayed him at every turn; despite his best efforts, he would always be the “gentleman”, the “romantic”, the “cute Beatle”. A curse, or a blessing, who was to say? But it was different now. John no longer felt the childlike wonder they often conveyed, the underlying pep and charisma. They were blank now, laced with something quite sinister. They darkened, and rather than a warm pool of molasses John would dip into, they were an abyss. John wanted to claw away from them in a panic, but they had frozen him still.

Despite his mind screaming it was the right decision, it was impossible for John to swallow down the violent wrench of his heart. “Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Paul’s eyes dropped to the floor, blinking rapidly. John dully noted the shine in them as tears threatened to breach the brim. Paul cleared his throat. “Okay.”

John offered a half-hearted handshake; a truce. It was a miserable attempt at reconciliation. Paul glanced at it with distain before shaking his head and turning on his heel.

John momentarily considered calling out after him. He took in a breath once, twice, but the words wouldn’t come. What could possibly be said?

Before Paul turned the doorknob, he glanced back in John’s direction. John’s stare raked over his form, and for the first time all night, the weight of the situation fully hit him. John’s vision blurred abruptly, and before he could make any move to stop it, silent tears began to slip out.

“John,” Paul started, his voice breaking. He paused for a moment, before wrenching the door open and leaving as promptly as he entered. There was nothing left to do, even if they tried.

They didn’t.

[chosenimagines]

Our strength lays within words

Universe: Criminal Minds Summary:  A girl named Josie stumbles into the office area of the BAU and falls onto the chair at Dr. Spencer Reid’s desk

  Warnings: Mentioning of Stabbing and Bullying, Fear, Wound, Blood, Rage

Language: English Request: yes/no Requests [Open]

A/N: This one shot/imagine can be found as well on my wattpad^^

🖊️    🖊️    🖊️   🖊️

____________________________________________

Concentrated she put one foot infront of the other. In the process of doing so she tried hard to not let a moan in pain escape her mouth. The pain was worse than usual. But this day hasn't been any different compared to the previous ones since she has moved to Quantico. Whereas she hasn't had in her old school in Las Vegas any pleasant days either! Slowly she dragged herself from the elevator towards to the office area. She was heading directly to the desk of Dr. Spencer Reid. The moment she has reached the desk she let herself fall on to the chair. 

"Hey Reid! Isn't that your little sis over there?" Morgan nudged the young agent. Spencer furrowed his brows irritated. "Yeeeaaah.... That is indeed Josephine!", he replied. Morgan and Reid walked rash to Reid's desk. "Do you know what she's doing here?", Derek asked. He has seen Josephine only one time. It was the day Spencer received custody for his little sister. She has been standing in the middle of the conference room after they had returned from a case. Morgen remembered how lost the girl looked. "No! But I will find out in a seconde.", Reid answered. His walk became brisk and his speed increased. "Hey Josie!", Spencer welcomed his sister. One could hear that her showing up here made him suspicious. That was why he blurt it straight out! "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in school?" Josephine dropped her gaze. Reid and Morgan immediately knew what that meant. Josie felt deeply ashamed because of something that most have happened today. Nevertheless, she knew that it had no purpose to lie to her brother or to talk around it. For this reason, Josephine didn't remain silent how she would have liked to do. "I have been sent home.", she muttered into her Hoodie. "I knew that you aren't at home, and I didn't want to be alone! That's why I am here. I hoped to stay with your technical analyst and to do my homework." Josie still avoided to make eye contact with her brother and his friend. The shame ran way too deep. "You can go now if you want to." Reid knelt infront of the intimidated girl. He recognized himself in her current behavior. "But I can't get rid of the feeling that you want to tell me something, don't you?" Josie kept silent this time. She had nothing to say to Spencer. Of course she knew that he would find out sometime. Nevertheless, she didn't want to contribute to this! Besides, Josephine wanted to prove to her brother that she was as strong and intelligent as he was. Because of Josie's silence Spencer wanted to put emphasis on his words when his fingers brushed her hoodie, and he noticed a wet spot. Reid's fingertips were red. This discovery was alarming to the FBI-agent. His eyes scanned Josie's clothes and spotted on her stomach level a stain of blood which steadily grew. Shocked as she was Josephine pressed her hands against the stain. At the same time her sleeves moved up and dark bruises got exposed on her arms. "Josie, what is that?" Spencer didn't receive an answer from his sister. Not only because she didn't want to reply but also, she was about to lose consciousness. "I am going to get a doctor!", Morgan said and ran off. "I am sorry, but I have to do this!", Spencer said and pulls his sister off the chair on to the ground. He pulled her hoodie off her body. "Please lay down!" Josephine did as she was told. She wouldn't have had the power to dissent if she would have wanted to. "Hold on, Josie! Help will get here any seconde. But I have to stop the bleeding. That's why I am going to press on your wound." Josephine groaned because of the pressure Spencer applied on to her wounded body part. "I am so sorry!", Reid repeated every time his sister moaned and groaned. "Reid?!", Derek's voice shrilled across the entire office. "Down here!", Reid yelled back at his friend and colleague. "Hurry! She lost a lot of blood." The next moment the medicals were with Spencer and Josephine. "Listen! You'll need- HEY" Morgan pulled Reid away from his sister to give the first aiders room to do their job. "Morgan, let go of me! Let me go!", the agent demanded. He fought his friend's tight grip tooth and nail. "Reid! REID! You have to calm down. Josephine is taken care of, but you need to let the medicals do their job. We need to do our job and need to find out where your sister got injured!" Wrathful Reid rushed off. He directly went into the room where they kept their case boards. Derek followed him. Morgan watched how Reid thrustingly -almost roughly- moved the board to the place where he needed it. Spencer drew with a marker across the board. The result was a not straight, careless line. "Reid, what are you doing there?", Morgan wanted to know and pushed himself off the doorframe which he has been leaning against. "I am creating a timeline. You said yourself that we need to find out when Josie got injured!" Derek raised his hands defensively. "Put down the weapons, pretty boy! I just want to help you and Josie.", Morgan replied. "And you need to calm down to be helpful for Josie! At the moment you are not able to help anyone." "But-" "Reid, I know you want to help! But you need to slow down." A sigh left Dr Reid's mouth when he sat down on a chair. "Good!", Derek praised his friend. The agent couldn't say another word. "Let's begin!" Hotch entered the room followed by the rest of the team. "What do we know?" Penelope handed everyone their tablets which they used for their work for the BAU. "Josephine Emily Reid. A 16-years old student from Las Vegas. Daughter of Diana and William Reid. Our beloved doctor received custody for her half a year ago. Now she visits the Quantico High! She has excellent grades and is part of the Maths Heads what isn't surprising when you take a look at her relatives. Excluding a one-time appointment with the school psychologist in Vegas she has been unremarkable. And I mean literally unremarkable!" Penelope Garcia took a seat at the top the table. "She seems to have now contact and has been part of any club or team at her old school. Josephine may own some accounts in the world of Social Media, but she has never posted a thing." Now Spencer's head had processed the information. "She has been to a psychologist?", he asks hoarsely. Spencer hasn't known this. His face got pale! "Why?", Reid demanded to know. "I can't find anything about it. According to her student's record there has been some incident that has been solved." "AN INCIDENT?!" Again, Spencer's rage went through the roof. Morgan pulled Reid back down onto his chair. "You have to calm down! You need to remain calm like I already told you. Otherwise, you can't help Josephine." Reid leaned back grumpy and crossed his arms. He didn't participate in the talk anymore. His eyes were focused on his sloppy timeline which he drew within a few seconds. It suddenly dawned on him! "The school.", Spencer mumbles. "What are you thinking, Reid?", Rossi wanted to know. But Reid didn't answer. Instead of answering Reid jumped to his feet and rushed off. "I know where the problem is centered!", he yelled and left the room.

"Reid, could you explain what we are doing here?" "When I had to go to High School I have been bullied by my class mates -what cliché! My bullies went from psychological bullying to physical actions! I believe that physical actions are the problem here. I am convinced that Josie has been wounded from one of her classmates. I know her daily routine! Today she went from school straight to my workplace. She hasn't been home. Instead, she walked into a FBI-bureau because she got send home from school when she needed help." Loaded with rage Reid pushes students away. "Hey, Mister! You can't pass.", a Teenager said and blocked Reid's way. "I am only going to tell you this one time, Little One, before I am using violence to get you out of my way! I am an FBI-agent and I want to speak to your principal.", Spencer growled. Unnoticed from the surrounding students Morgan and Rossi got more near to their coworker. Just as Reid they wanted to enter the principal's office, but they wouldn't let Reid ruin his life because he might beat up a minor. The scared boy stepped a side and Spencer stormed into the office. Reid didn't get a chance to talk! Luckily Hotch immediately starts the conversation. "SSA Hotchner! The agents Morgen, Jareau, Rossi, Prentis and Dr Reid.", the head of the team introduced them to one another. The principal pushed his chair back and shook Hotches Hand. "Brown." Then Mr Brown looked at Spencer. "Reid? As in Josephine Reid?" Spencer nodded with clenched jaw. "Exactly." "We are here because of Josephine!", Hotch butted in again. "She showed up wounded and we want to know why you haven't called the ambulance for her." "I didn't know she was hurt-", Principal Brown tried to defend himself. Reid's patience broke in that moment. "How could you not know that she was hurt?! She had a stab wound that was bleeding strongly and her arms are covered with bruises! I can assure you that Josephine hasn't had them yesterday!", Spencer screamed. He was speechless! "What my co-worker wants to say that it is hard to not see that wound, and we are interested in the reason why you have sent Josephine Reid home.", Derek barged in. He slowly pushed his outraged friend behind himself. "I had to suspend Ms Reid for today.", Mr Brown explained to the BAU. Spencer snorted snarky. "The Reason?", Rossi asked. "She has hurt several students." "NONSENSE!" "Morgan!" Derek understood Hotches nonverbal request and went with Reid outside. They left office at the perfect time. "When I get Reid between in my fingers again, I promise you she won't get off as lightly as today. I don't want to get a black eye again to cover up that we were the ones to stab her." Morgan and Reid surrounded the students. "Get in there!", Morgan commanded. His authority flair was intimidating for the teenagers, and they followed the order. "Hotch, these are our unsubs!", Morgan informed his boss. "He confessed when we entered the hallway. They tried to stab her to death and covered it up with a black eye." "You will hear from me again.", Hotch said to the principal. Then the group of students got arrested.

"Spencer, what are you doing here?" Sleppy Josie blinked at her brother. "I wanted to tell you that we have arrested them." "Who?" Spencer took his sister's hand. "The students who did this to you." Josie's eyes widened. She couldn't believe it! Was it really over? Is this the end of the pain? "Why didn't you tell me that you are being bullied? I could have gotten you into a different school." Josephine sighed. That was the question she has been afraid of. "I didn't want you to worry. And I have to confess that I don't know it differently. Back in Vegas it has been like this as well and I tried to befriend some people but it hasn't worked out at both schools. Anyways! How could someone like me tell a successful genius who works for the FBI and saves regularly the world and makes it better that you are a total looser?" Spencer smiles to himself. "You are laughing about me.", Josie noticed sad. "No! I don't laugh about you. I am just surprised about how similar we are. I have felt as well like a looser when they hit me and talked me down!" Josephine would have never guessed that. Her brother has been bullied?! "Josie, our strength lies within communication. Our strength lies within words! We have to talk to each other to help one another." Josie hugs her big brother tight. "Thank you for being there for me!" "Thank you for being with me."

[hale-13]

Caliber

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 12 - Death

Peter grew up like most American kids running active shooter drills thinking (hoping) it would never happen to him.

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Various Midtown Students and Faculty

TW: TW: Gun Violence, Blood, Major Character Injury, Possible MCD (if you choose to interpret it that way)

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Growing up, Peter spent his early childhood in lower level genetics labs with his parents. Part of this was simply because they worked some weird hours at OsCorp but the other part was definitely because they recognized his intelligence and talent early and would give him easy experiments to run while they worked. Safe? Eh, maybe not but Peter had fun.

Well, until they died that is.

After that Peter would spend his time in the hospital daycare or nurse’s break room or sitting at Ben’s desk in the bullpen at the precinct where he worked. Daycare and babysitters were expensive and Peter was having a little separation anxiety from becoming an orphan at six. Peter accredits this formative time in his life to why he has a healthy respect of first responders, why he goes out every night in spandex to help his neighborhood (even if the cops hate him).

After the funeral, after May and Ben went back to work and started taking Peter with them, Ben sat Peter down to go over basic gun safety with him. He can remember that initial conversation pretty vividly: Ben had sat Peter down on the couch and had pulled out his unloaded side arm and the small safe he stored it in. He told Peter just how dangerous weapons could be in untrained hands, how Peter could easily hurt himself or others if he ever touched it, how Ben would always have it locked up but, on the off chance it wasn’t, Peter was to never touch it.

Peter had readily agreed and had steered clear of Ben’s belt and the gun safe next to his side of the bed his whole childhood.

The officers that Ben worked with were, for the most part, super nice to Peter and always took time out of their days to talk to him, bring him snacks and (attempt) to help him with his homework and Peter grew to be the most comfortable in the loud bullpen or the adjacent break room. The summer before he started his freshman year at Midtown, Ben and some of the other officers had given Peter a crash course in gun safety – how to clean, care and shoot a weapon – and it only took one trip to dash Peter’s dreams of working in law enforcement; he never wanted to handle a gun again.

Holding his uncle’s body as he bled out a few months later from the massive hole left in his back by the .45 caliber handgun only solidified that decision.

Luckily, in his tenure as Spider-Man, Peter tended to run into more sub-Ultron and Chitauri fare than the classic handguns and rifles he was familiar with which suited him just fine. When he did come across a run of the mill mugger or rapist who was using a pistol or something similar, Peter took great pleasure in using his super strength to rip it into tiny pieces – destroyed beyond repair and off the streets for good.

This had resulted in some unfortunate bullet grazes and full-on holes in his body that had prompted his helicopter mentor (under the order of Aunt May of course) to force him through another gun safety lecture, complete with a practical portion where Colonel Rhodes assisted in teaching Peter how to properly disarm and disassemble a variety of different sidearms. It was definitely cool to spend time with Actual War Machine but Peter rushed through it as quickly and throughly as possible. He never wanted to have the easy comfort with weapons that Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had – he preferred non-lethal disarmament when patrolling.

All this said – Peter probably had more experience and knowledge with various weapons (human and otherwise) than he had any right to.

All of this experience, all of his time as Spider-Man, everything he had been through did nothing to help keep him calm and collected when his principal came over the intercom while Peter was in gym class to announce a code red shelter in place order. Like most high schoolers in America, Peter had gone through numerous school safety drills so he, in theory, knew what to do in a emergency.

In practice? Not so much.

Coach Wilson had looked just as pale and stunned as the class but had recovered quickly enough to rush the doors. A few other students had also started moving to gather some of the wrestling mats to roll in front of the doors once Coach Wilson had gotten them closed and locked.

He, unfortunately, wasn’t quick enough.

Brian Anderson, a sophomore Peter recognized from the debate team, forced the door open, brandishing the small revolver in a shaky hand. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed with tears with such a desolate look it made Peter’s own heart clench in sympathy despite his rapid heart-rate.

“Back up,” he whispered, using the gun to gesture for the coach to step away and the man obliged; holding his hands up in surrender and slowly backing away from the door. Some of Peter’s classmates, including Ned who, for once, wasn’t right at Peter’s side in class but across the room from him, had started to cry. Michelle, looking stony faced but terrified underneath it all, was trying to shush Betty Brant who was in the middle of a full blown panic attack and trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Okay,” Coach Wilson said, motioning the class members closest to him to back up with one raised hand, his eyes never leaving the weapon. “You’re calling the shots here Brian.”

Brian sniffled, fresh tears spilling over his eyes and hand trembling as he surveyed the room, eventually moving the barrel to point at Mark Conley, one of Flash’s friends and a notorious online bully. Both boys had gone nearly ghost white and the class seemed to be holding its collective breath.

“Sorry Ben,” Peter thought. “Sorry Mr. Stark.”

“Brian,” he called out, voice sounding much more steady than he predicted it would since he was just Peter Parker right now and not Spider-Man. “You don’t want to do this man.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Brian spit out, anger over-ruling all of his other feelings and his eyes landing on Peter. “You don’t know what I want to do!”

“I promise you don’t want to do this,” Peter said calmly. “I know what they’re like. You think they treat me any better than you? You’ll regret this if you do it.”

Brian snorted out a dry laugh, not looking like he found anything remotely funny. “Then you should want me to do this.” He said, cherry picking Peter’s words.

“But I don’t,” Peter told him, edging closer to the other boy, making sure to put his body in front of Mark as he moved closer. “Do you know how my uncle died?” Brian, eyes locked with Peter’s, shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “He was shot by some guy robbing a bodega. He bled out in my arms before emergency services could arrive.” Peter said bluntly, doing the best to ignore how his heart clenched and his eyes burned.

The barrel of Brian’s gun dipped down to point more toward the floor and Peter took a few cautious steps forward, stopping when he was only about five feet away. “They won’t stop,” Brian whispered, the tears flowing heavier but his finger still in place over the trigger. “It just keeps getting worse and I can’t take it. I can’t do this anymore!”

“I know,” Peter said, voice soft, dropping his hands down to rest loosely at his sides. He really wishes he had his web-shooters, secret identity be damned. He was never taking them off again, no matter what May tried to tell him about work/life balance. “I know what its like and it sucks but they aren’t worth throwing your whole life away. It’s not worth hurting all the innocent people you’ll hurt. You don’t want to do that to your friends and family.”

“I don’t have any friends!” Brian said loudly, raising the gun back up to point at Peter but Peter didn’t move from his relaxed position even though he felt his heart speed up to a gallop. He faced possible injury and death at least once a week but that was always as Spider-Man… never as Peter Parker.

“I’m your friend,” Peter told him, a little desperate but honest. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Brian gasped and let the pistol drop to his side in a loose grip. “Just hand me the gun Brian okay? And then we can talk about it, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Brian sniffed and rubbed his free hand over his face to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Peter confirmed, holding out his hand. Brian nodded and lifted his hand to pass Peter the gun when everything went wrong. Betty, who had been hyperventilating through the entire exchange, finally passed out. MJ tried to catch her but the two of them hit the floor with a echoing bang that startled the whole class. Brian, gun lifted and finger still on the trigger, flinched and jerked to aim back at Mark, shooting.

Everything happened in slow motion for Peter and he grimaced at what he was about to do, saying mental apologies and throwing his body in the path of the bullet, jerking back at the feeling of it hitting him in the chest.

His breath knocked out and his consciousness already becoming more nebulous from the pain that was blooming in his lungs, Peter stumbled forward to yank the gun from Brian’s limp grasp, deftly unloading it with the last of his strength and with shaking hands before throwing the rounds to the opposite side of the gym; collapsing at the other boys feet.

“Oh god,” Brian whispered in horror. “Oh god Peter. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He tried to bend down next to Peter but was swiftly tackled by Abe and Jason where he was wrestled onto his front with them restraining his hands without a fight beyond his gulping sobs.

“You’re alright Parker,” Coach Wilson said soothingly as he rolled Peter onto his back and used his own hastily shed jacket to apply pressure to the steadily bleeding hole in Peter’s chest, causing him to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. “Thompson! Call 911 and tell them we have the shooter and we need emergency services in the gym. Conley run up to the office and tell Morita what happened!” Both boys jumped into action but Peter ignored it in favor of unsteadily pulling his own phone out of his pocket and sliding it to Ned who had joined the group along with a pale and teary Michelle.

“Call Tony,” Peter coughed out, blood staining his lips and leaked down the side of his face. “No hospital.”

Ned, shaking and crying worse than Peter had ever seen fumbled the phone with numb hands before giving up and pressing the panic button on the side of the phone. Feeling relieved that his mentor was on the way, Peter let his tired eyes close only to rip them open at the flick on his nose.

“It’s not nap time Tiger,” MJ told him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t want to get detention again.”

“I think…” Peter gasped out, his lungs aching with the strain. “Think this… get me… a permanent… ‘get out of detention’… free card.”

Michelle ran soft fingers through his hair, helping him relax his clenching muscles. He could tell that Ned was on the phone and speaking in rapid, broken sentences. He could kind of hear the sirens approaching, the sound of the building evacuating, crying students. But nothing mattered as much as Michelle. “You just couldn’t help yourself huh?”

“You know… me,” Peter grunted, trying for a grin that didn’t show the tacky blood he was sure was staining his teeth. “No guts… no glory.”

“God you’re a disaster,” MJ said with a watery laugh, a single tear escaping to race down her cheek. Peter wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away but his arms were made of lead.

Before Peter could work up the energy to respond, the doors of the gym were blown off the hinges by repulsers as Tony rushed the room, suited up in his full armor and clearly panicked. “Peter!” He shouted as he stumbled out of the suit, falling to his knees next to Peter and hastily began applying his prototype nanotech bandage to the hole in Peter’s chest before rolling him on his side to repeat the process with his back.

Peter gagged at the change in position, his eyesight fading out to a pinprick of light and his hearing glitching out. The voices around him became ever more harried but Peter couldn’t make out what they were trying to say – all he knew was he was really tired. More tired than he had ever been maybe. Surely no one would mind if he took a little nap?

“Stay with me buddy,” he heard Mr. Stark say as cold, hard arms gripped under his back and knees, lifting him and causing him to nearly black out again. “Just a quick little flight to the Tower Petey,” Tony said, voice wavering and not its usual strong timbre. “Just hang with me for a few more minutes and then you can nap okay kiddo?”

“Tired,” Peter gasped out, chest seizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Tony ordered, frantic and yelling over the wind buffeting them. When had they started flying? “Just stay awake.”

“Love May,” Peter whispered, his vision a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that were rapidly fading. “Love you.”

“Peter!” Tony sounded so far away, Peter thought as his eyes closed against the colors and shapes and lights that were making him feel dizzy and sick.

Just a little nap.

No one would notice.

[littleoddwriter]

buzzfeed unsolved but its zsaszmask

Unsolved | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask AU

Fellow wheezers, who happen to ship ZsaszMask, this is for you!

Thanks for the request!!!

Also, in case anyone might be confused, let me explain why I chose their roles the way I did.

So, in m BFU ZsaszMask AU, Roman is Shane (sceptic) and Victor is Ryan (believer). I did that because frankly, Roman has no respect for anything or anyone, especially not dead things, so I feel as though he'd take on more of a sceptical role in terms of paranormal things, whereas Victor would be more inclined to believe in these things, since he's already quite superstitious, etc. So, that was really all the thought behind the roles. Still, Victor doesn't react as heavily as Ryan truly does because that would just be hella out of character, I think.

I hope you enjoy it!

summary; Just a Buzzfeed Unsolved AU of ZsaszMask. It focuses more on the Supernatural Seasons (after establishing it all) because I thought that'd be more interesting.

notes; nothing notable, other than Domestic Fluff and Kisses, I guess.

Despite committing murders on their own, Roman and Victor were quite intrigued by true murder cases, as well; especially those that have never been solved. They fascinated them. Sometimes they drew inspiration from them for their next victims, always open to try out new things, most notably if it was supposed to send a message. Sometimes they’d just make fun of them, though. It was one of their favourite pastimes, really.

Eventually, on his research, Roman stumbled across this whole niche of true crime fanatics. People discussed these things online, either on blogs or even YouTube videos. It got them a hell of a lot of attention – and money, too.

With that in mind, Sionis proposed the idea of opening their own YouTube channel with videos like those he’s seen to Zsasz, who wasn’t exactly enthused, but he didn’t care.

Think about the publicity and the money, Victor, he’d said which made his partner shrug and agree that – sure, if that’s what Roman wanted, he wasn’t the one to deny him.

After a short while of making these unsolved true crime videos, they gained a lot of online popularity. It delighted Roman! Sometimes, he’d even sit down to read the comments, and gave into what caught his attention after reading the same suggestion one too many times.

Apparently, people wanted them to lean more into the supernatural side of things, explore cases that could only be explained by the seemingly unreal and paranormal; ghosts, demons, aliens – that kind of bullshit. Roman didn’t believe in any of this crap, but more publicity meant more money, and that promise made Roman happy enough to subject himself to these things.

Although, he had to admit that Victor’s reaction to it surprised him a little.

“No! We shouldn’t,” shot right out of him the moment Roman had said they’d cover such cases in the very near future.

“Why? Don’t tell me you actually believe this shit.”

“Well- not really, but I also don’t wanna test it,” Victor started stumbling over his own words then to try and come up with a weak excuse.

Huh. Roman had never taken him for someone like that, but he saw it in a positive light, since it only guaranteed to make this whole thing a lot more fun.

Apparently it wasn’t just fun, but those videos gained even more views – quickly. Upon reading the comments, even more people now thought they were a couple (such comments have already started beforehand) – and they were, but the public needn’t find out about that. It’d only put them in danger among their rivals in Gotham’s underbelly, so they didn’t announce anything and have consciously tried to stay as neutral as possible on screen. They had to cut out some kisses they shared here and there in their videos’ post-production, though. Sometimes they just couldn’t help themselves.

Still, the supernatural type of videos seemed to make their chemistry pop, which didn’t necessarily surprise Roman, since they actually travelled to the places they’d talk about and investigate them, hands-on, looking for evidence of paranormal beings and activities. So it was only to be expected that they’d sometimes forget they were being filmed at all and therefore just acted like themselves in these situations.

Roman naturally took on the role of a sceptic, as he didn’t believe in any of it, nor did he have any respect for these supposed ghosts whatsoever. Victor on the other hand – well, he tried to act as though he didn’t truly believe; but once they visited the infamous Sallie House and upon the flash-lights mysteriously having turned on and off on their commands to the alleged demon, Zsasz couldn’t hide his… apprehension, any longer.

It amused Roman greatly as he just laughed at Victor’s reaction, which was subtle enough – he jumped and had wide eyes, but otherwise didn’t react – but to Roman it was as if he had jumped up and shrieked, considering that Zsasz usually didn’t show any fear at all.

People ate that shit up, though. They revelled in either reaction, thinking the contrast was perfect and made watching the video less scary, and far more enjoyable. Roman was loved for his taunting, his blatant disrespect and the way he coaxed Victor into unintentionally communicating with the demon as well. Zsasz was also praised for making others laugh by being rather afraid, despite his tough exterior, and some even sympathised with him.

Additionally – and unfortunately a part they had filmed, but couldn’t leave in the video – Victor had been still a little mad at Roman for daring to talk to the supposed demon and roping him into it, despite having been told not to, when they had been on their way home the next day – after having spent the night at the house.

He was sitting in the car, on the front passenger seat, his arms were crossed and he was pouting. Cute, really. He just adored his little lapdog.

“Aw, baby, don’t pout. Nothing happened, we’re both still alive. That demon was nothing but a fake fuck anyway,” Roman cooed, grinning at Victor from the backseat he sat in.

Zsasz turned his head and glared at him, “Don’t test it. I told you! It’s dangerous. Could’ve killed you for all we know.”

“But it didn’t. Now quit being scared, or whatever. It just stopped being cute.”

Victor rolled his eyes and turned his head back to look out of the window. “I’m only looking out for you,” he had muttered, which Roman only caught when they cut the video.

Upon finding that out, he made it up to his partner with a bird for him to free and a good time in bed afterwards.

After a couple of years of making these videos, they had gained quite the cult following. And despite having only been in for the publicity and money at first, Roman found himself genuinely enjoying making these videos. Victor, too, he knew. Frankly, they both just loved being able to spend time with each other in the way they had before anyway, only to be paid for it as well.

Some of the most amusing things to both of them, though, were all the fan theories and speculations about them that their audience came up with at times.

Supposedly, Roman himself was a demon, which would explain why all his disrespect hasn’t killed him yet (obviously that wasn’t the case, but he revelled in it nonetheless). Others speculated about their relationship, and some even talked about Victor’s scars, wondering where they came from and why there seemed to be more every other video. They never addressed any of these things, of course, only amusing themselves with it during a late night.

One time, they spent the night at an allegedly haunted place again –The Dauphine Orleans Hotel – even sharing a bed this time. Their viewers were sure to latch onto that, Roman smiled to himself. They left the camera on during the night, in case they would catch any ‘evidence’ of paranormal activities, while they slept. Sionis only thought about how much footage they’d have to cut out in the end.

At first, they just lied next to each other, cracking jokes and talking nonsense, until Roman has had enough of that at least.

“Are we doing more of this, or can I use the Jacuzzi hot tub that we’ve been blessed with?”

“Are you serious?” Victor asked, looking at him incredulously.

Roman just looked back at him, “Are we going to spend the night here and not use that?”

For the video’s sake, they put swimming trunks on that they’ve brought with them. They filled the tub with water and sat in it. Roman went to turn on the jets, but had to find that they unfortunately didn’t work.

“The jets don’t work,” Victor explained for the camera, after they had agreed to keep filming it anyway, thinking it might be funny to put it in the video to lighten up the mood some more.

They both laughed, the entire situation was just so ridiculous to them.

“We’re just two guys sitting in a tub,” Zsasz continued, chuckling, while Roman just kept laughing.

Later, they were lying in the bed; Roman had his arms around Victor, wanting to sleep. His partner seemed calm to the camera – even though they’d have to cut this out anyway – and anyone’s naked eye, but fuck, he could feel Zsasz’s rapid heartbeat.

“Calm down, baby. Nothing’s going to happen, I promise,” Roman murmured against Victor’s shoulder, pecking it.

“I don’t know, boss. I just feel like something’s off.”

“That’s only because you actually believe in this crap and think every noise is a ghost, or demon, or fuck knows what else. I can assure you, though. The only real threat is I if you don’t calm down and go the fuck to sleep soon. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Good boy,” Roman cooed and nudged Victor to turn around in his arms, so he could capture his lips in a gentle, yet searing kiss.

“Still,” Sionis then said, curiosity having finally killed the cat after all these years, “You’re usually not… like that. Are you just acting it up for the camera, or? Because you really don’t need to. I had thought you weren’t afraid of anything, no matter what.”

“Just of losing you,” Victor mumbled, barely audible at all, but with how quiet the room’s been Roman caught it anyway.

“Is that all of it has been about?”

“I guess, I don’t know. I just know that the way you keep daring these creatures makes me fucking paranoid that something’s gonna come after you and kill you and I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

Roman clicked his tongue and cooed, “Aw, Victor. Fuck, I didn’t know you could be so sentimental! Disgusting.” He grinned. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon, ‘kay? Who else is going to be King of Gotham in a few years then?”

Stroking his fingers over Roman’s cheek, Victor chuckled, “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I guess it all just kinda crossed my wires or some shit.”

They kissed again, lazy, tired and gentle. It was so intimate that for a moment, both of them forgot everything around them, forgot why and where they had been in that moment, since none of it mattered.

Looking back on that footage, they were forced to cut it all out, but they kept it safe, never wanting to forget about it entirely. It may have been one of their most genuine and intimate moments of their shared lives that hadn’t involved a dead body and Roman loved it.

[handonshipper]

If I Knew Then What I Know Now: Chapter Three

Hope headed downstairs after putting her father to sleep. The voices in her head caused by the Hollow were getting to her. It was getting harder and harder to manage. The most relief she had gotten since she took in the Hollow's magic again was when she was spending time with the waiter from the Mystic Grill, Landon Kirby, yesterday. Something about being around him was different. A little distracting at least. But she was dangerous to be around right now, and she knew it. Which was why she did not consider going to find him.

The tribrid wondered what exactly the waiter was doing in New Orleans, her home town. Was it merely a coincidence or something more? She felt drawn to trust Landon and felt comfortable around him, but she had also recently been betrayed by Roman, her ex boyfriend, which resulted in her mother's death. At the thought of this, the voices grew, and she struggled to ignore them. She breathed out slowly and entered Rousseau's bar. "Declan, hey, I need a favor from the bar." Suddenly her body froze as she spotted a familiar face, her anger flaring up again. Elijah Mikaelson. Her uncle. "What are you doing here? Killing my mom wasn't enough? Now you've come for Declan?"

"That's not what I'm here for." Elijah disagreed, but Hope didn't care. She just wanted to be angry at him. To not let her own guilt sink in. It was painful enough the brief moment it had while she was with Landon. It was easier for her to be angry with Elijah instead of facing all of it. And the voices in her head certainly weren't helping.

"He killed her" Declan said, stunned.

"That's not what happened." Elijah defended

"No, but if you weren't there, she'd still be alive." Hope said, and her rage fueled the voices, causing then only to get louder and louder. She clutched her head. "Stop! God, stop!"

"What's going on with you?" Declan asked, confused and concerned at what was happening to her. He moved to go towards her but stopped as Elijah grabbed his arm.

"Stop! Shut up! Shut up!" Hope shouted. Their voices certainly weren't helping the situation.

"What did you do?" Declan interrogated Elijah. Elijah grabbed him by the neck and pinned him up against the bar.

"Hey, don't hurt him!" Hope said, moving closer, momentarily distracted from the voices by the scene before her.

"I won't. We can't do this in front of him."

"Okay, fine." She waved her hand and put Declan to sleep. The human then fell to the floor. "Now it's just the two of us."

"My memory was gone. I didn't know who she was."

Considering everything the tribrid was feeling at the moment, that wasn't a good enough excuse. "Well, now you do. How does it feel?"

"Like the worst pain I've ever experienced."

The whispers got more intense in her head, and she put her hands on her head and looked around a little, trying to force away the voices. She lowered her hands and looked at her uncle. "I hate you."

"I hate me, too." Elijah said, self loathing obvious in his eyes.

Hope knew she shouldn't blame him, but right now she needed to be angry with someone, and it was easy to be angry with him. "You let her die." In a flash of rage, consumed by emotions and the hollow's magic, Hope waved a hand, cutting him magically repeatedly as though she was clawing into him until he collapsed

"Hope" spoke a familiar voice, but the tribrid didn't give herself a chance to process who the voice belonged to. In a flash of rage, she waved her hand back and caused a deep gash across the person that entered. "Hope" the voice repeated, though now it had a groan, and the tribrid suddenly realized who the voice belonged to.

Landon Kirby.

Landon was walking down the street as he thought about everything that happened. He wanted to make sure Hope was alright. He hadn't seen her since the day before. But he also did not want to interact with her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that he was no longer the same Landon Kirby he had been before he melted into a pile of goo. Before he had been sent to Malivore and lived what felt like years in complete isolation, Before he had to fight monsters in the prison world to survive.

He knew he was darker, fought with both brawn and brain. He attacked first and didn't let himself worry about the consequences. He just needed to fight and kill. That had been his mindset for the past several weeks since he got out of Malivore. And now he was here, surrounded by people.... It was a lot, and he wasn't sure that he could manage it well enough not to end up being a burden on Hope or anyone else.

Suddenly, he heard Hope's voice from inside Rousseau's as he neared it. "Stop! Shut up! Shut up! Hey, don't hurt him!" There was a little bit of a pause "You let her die!"

A concerned Landon Kirby stepped into Rousseau's and called out her name to get her attention. "Hope" Suddenly, without really paying attention to who it was, Hope waved a hand back. Suddenly, a large gash cut across Landon's chest magically, and he stumbled back a bit, leaning against the wall as blood started soaking his shirt. "Hope" he repeated, groaning a little in pain. This wasn't a wound he could exactly stitch up.

"Landon?" Hope questioned,   her eyes widening in horror at what she had done. "Oh god" she said as Landon slowly slid to the ground, putting pressure to his own wound. She grabbed something sharp from nearby and cut her palm. "Here, drink this", she said, putting it near his mouth but not on it.

Landon shook his head, not wanting to risk being sent back to Malivore. He wasnt sure what exactly happened. But he also didn't want to take any chances.

"It can heal you. Drink" Hope said, looking at him, her eyes wide in concern.

Landon shook his head again. "Not you" he said, forcing back a groan of pain

A hurt expression flickered across her face, and she moved her hand away. He could see her wound closing up. Her uncle, Elijah, was healing from his own wounds at the moment.

"Hope. What happened?" Klaus questioned, walking inside the bar.

"I uh. I attacked Elijah, and Landon came in. And I accidentally hurt him too" Hope said. "And he's refusing to drink my blood. I don't know why. I told him it would help"

Klaus walked over and bit his own wrist before feeding it to Landon forcefully. Landon drank some of the hybrid's blood. He coughed some of it up, anxious about how vampire blood would affect him.  But the blood already started to heal him. His eyes drifted shut and Landon lost consciousness.

Hope was pacing downstairs in the Mikaelson home, trying to keep herself calm and have as much control over the whispers as she could. It had died down after she hurt Elijah. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before. But she knew it was only temporary. She looked up as her father came downstairs after putting Landon.

"How is he?" She asked immediately.

"He's alright, just sleeping. He's getting a bit feverish, but it's mild." Klaus said, looking at his daughter. "Who is he?"

"His name is Landon, and he's human. He, uh, he used to serve me milkshakes at the Mystic Grill. He took a trip here. I'm not sure how long he is staying. He says it depends on if he has reasons to stay."

"What was that? You won't take my help, you reject the bracelet, you're throwing Elijah around" Klaus said, looking at his daughter with worry.

"It stopped the voices." the tribrid admitted, trying not to sound as vulnerable as she felt.. She had all of this power and she knew it was killing her. And the voices were so intense, part of her wanted to scream and take out all of New Orleans to feel better.. But she didn't want to hurt people. She never wanted that. It was why she worked hard to control her magic so she never used too much. Never used more than necessary for a given occasion. Though she hadn't exactly been following her own rules lately.

Her father looked at her, stunned "What?"

"Ever since I took the power back, the whispers... I can't think, I can't sleep, I can't even breathe. But right now, it's silent. Is this the rest of my life? A rage that can only be quieted by violence?"

"Hope, if violence is what you need to feel better, then you have the perfect father. We'll handle this. In the meantime, you should probably keep your distance from your friend. Landon"

"I was thinking the same thing." Hope said, looking at him. "Thank you for bringing him here and making sure he was alright."

"You're welcome" Klaus said.

"I saw Landon yesterday" she said, trying to talk to him before the voices grew too loud again. "We talked for a bit, and I showed him around New Orleans"

"You could manage it? The voices?"

"It was... I don't know, easier around him. I can't explain it. It was still there and bothersome but it wasn't as bad. I have no idea why" Hope said as she followed her father upstairs to her room. "I thought I could handle it. I really did."

"You're handling it as best you can, and I'm gonna be here with you every step of the way." Klaus promised as he looked at his daughter.

"Will you stay with me awhile?"

"Of course I will. So do you like this boy?"

Hope was silent for a moment, but she was grateful for the focus on Landon instead of the voices constantly in her head. "Even if I did, it doesn't matter"

"What makes you say that?" Klaus questioned curiously.

"My last love interest betrayed me. I dont think I am exactly the right person to be dating"

"The first person I was truly involved with is currently under a sleeping spell in this very building." Klaus pointed out with a slight smile. "Do you like this boy"

"Yes. But I can't think about a relationship" Hope said. She never would be able to. She could feel herself dying. It wasnt fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to get involved with anyone while she was dying. Though she couldnt exactly say that to her father. "He's human. Our family gets ourselves involved in a lot of dangerous situations. And mom just-" She shook her head

"Your mother would want you to be happy"

"I know she would." the tribrid said simply but she had already made up her mind. She wanted Landon to be safe. Not be killed like Camille, Hayley, Jackson, and many others had been while close to their family. If he was genuinely as nice of a guy as he seemed, then she definitely didn't want to ruin his life, which is probably exactly what she would do if her family got involved with him. Invaded his life. He already got hurt because of her. Hope wasn't sure she could avoid that happening again if he didn't leave.

Hope was confused on why he was pushing her to be in a relationship, especially after how he reacted whenever anyone else got in a relationship. However, after looking at him for a moment, she recognized the reasoning from his expression. He wanted her to have hope. To find something to live for and to look forward to. Something to fight for besides family.

[archetypal-archivist]

Hermitcraft-What is Glass but Crystal Light?

There is a woman, sleeping in the heart of an eldritch being beyond mortal ken. There is a man, strapped into a chair, watched over by worried friends as his mind flies across the cosmos- looking for someone. There is a ship that sails the rivers of light that flow through the outer reaches of the void. And long ago, there were two boys who were nearly consumed by a star that should have stayed dead.

This is their story, split into ten parts, each inspired by a song and each part written within the song's duration. May they receive their happy ending yet.

Also known as, I took on a drabble writing challenge and came out with 1500+ words of Sad Grian the Space Sailor content. Links to the songs will be at the bottom. 

-----

The boat rocked through the waves, glowing light washing against its hull as nebulas and galaxies spun by. Grian stretched out his hand, letting the solar winds trail over and through his fingers, giving his skin a pale, silver glow. To Mumbo, standing stock still- near invisible in the light of the void, purple and dark and impossible to describe- Grian looked ethereal. Impossible. Like light in the void, like a man made of nothing, stretching out beyond his galaxy to see a glimpse of his lover across the cosmos... Was he talking of himself or of Grian? Best not to think about it. (Best not to think.) He was too boring for the brunet, he knew, but even if his redstone skills lacked the ability to hold his love’s attention, not like the starry seas could, it at least gave him this. Back at home, his body lay strapped into a cold metal chair and electrodes and wires poked harshly against his temples. Iskall watched helplessly as his friend’s eyes flickered behind his closed lids. Alas, if only his friend could see the heart that stood before him, wishing for a spark of that brilliant mind to be turned his way. (Sailor Song by Autoheart)

The seas were cold comfort, although few could tell. Grian knew that better than most. Mumbo was precious, truly, but he was better off without him. The seas had claimed him, marked him when they were younger, back when it was just him and the sea and the drowning feelings inflicted upon them both by a man too much like a black hole to be survived. He and the sea had come out changed, something less than human, in the case of his friend, and a bit less than whole for him. Mumbo really did deserve a whole person, not just a shell of one. But still, even if his heart had been eaten by the void, despite the sea’s best efforts, he could leave Mumbo this- a kiss, pressed to a sleeping temple, a key on the table, and a bottle of dreams. All he had left of his heart, all that he could give. (This is Not Goodbye by Sidewalk Prophets)

Taurtis was not always the sea. He was not always light. But always, as before and as always and as he always will be, he was not enough. Grian blamed him, he knew this too. He had come out of the mess of Sam and his pull just as broken as his best friend, but somehow Grian always spoke as if he had come out the poorer of the two of them. As if losing his physical form and his very name, his very identity, was somehow less of a burden than simply losing a heart. Perhaps that was why Grian was so cruel to him now, insisting that having Taurtis wasn’t enough these days. Perhaps losing a heart really was a burden. But compared to a body, to a soul set loose among the cosmos to join the solar seas and the stardust whipped up by the waves? Having to learn the art of surrender in all its brutal perfection? No, Taurtis had it worse by far. But even if he had lost his body, even if Grian blamed him for not protecting them both, even if he wasn’t enough (had internalized the blame, just a bit). Well. At least they’ll be together forever now. He would learn to be enough, maybe. Given time. Time enough in all the world. (Neptune by Sleeping at Last)

The void was not dark. The void was not silent. Beings roamed its reaches, things of light, borders and physics and string theory made flesh. The voids were treacherous, and those who sailed the cosmic seas knew its dangers well. There were things that lurked in the void’s fractalling, mind-hazing fog, in the light that was anything but. Things that ate men alive, bundled them up in contradictions and questions until their who unraveled from their what, until their atoms pulled apart at the seams. But the most eldritch of things in the void was hope. The most dangerous by far, it’s light cast out across the void, glimmered upon the waves and luring in the foolhardy and the desperate into its reach. And yet, it never struck. Never consumed, not as the other monsters of the void did. It didn’t need to. Any who caught glimpse of its might would throw themselves into its mass whole-heartedly. And yet. And yet. Not all who lost themselves to hope were devoured. Deep in its heart, there sleeps a woman. Her name is Stress, because that is what she is. And the heart of the hope at the center of the void is always breaking, because that woman, that Stress in the fabric of reality? She is trying to break free. And someday, she will succeed. And all will be torn bloody and new again. The seas know it. The absent skies know it. Taurtis knows it, in his piecemeal state. And oh, how hope pulls at him for the knowing. Best to leave his Grian in the dark. { Voidfish (Plural) by Rachel Rose Mitchell}

Vintage Beef knew better than to sell to traders and pirates like the man before him. Anyone who looked like they stepped out of a children’s picture book weren’t likely to be able to pay. Pirates belonged in a by-gone age, even ones that stank of light more than anyone he had ever met. But the man before him, edged in salt-spray golden glow, seemed so lost. So desperate. What was a drink, in the face of that? So he served the man a drink and a side of cow, as a treat to keep the man from hopefully getting too sloshed. No luck. And soon, the story came pouring out, a story of a pair of boys and a man who shone like stars, who blinded them with his light and sucked the life from their bones like marrow. A black hole in all but name. The fork in his hand clicked against the man’s teeth as he choked out the words, hands shaking. A childhood gone wrong. Beef just nodded, wondering, lost in the face of such loss. He could understand that, perhaps. But what was his own lost prospects, lost to his bar and his job, in the face of a lost life? He just hoped the man didn’t end up like all other men in story books. Stories ended. And, as the man stumbled out of the bar, starshine glittering around him like grief, he seemed as if he was rushing into his epilogue. Best wishes, Beef spared him a thought. He would need them. (Golden Leaves by Passenger)

Joe loved the sea, for all that he could not bear to touch it. As an ender hybrid, a bit like that prince in the far tower, its waters would burn him to the quick. And he loved the man he caught glimpses of when he stared out across the waves even more. The man had no name, not that he knew of anyway. Though, it’s not like he could ask, locked in his tower as he was. Part of the job description of a poet, of course. Call it an occupational hazard, just like falling for impossibly distant figures straight out of myth or legend and feeling your consciousness splinter across the cosmos to bring you inspiration in your dreams. (Sleep… hurt. He tried not to think about it.) But yes. The man on the edge of the sea, who rode the waves like he was made to. Perhaps he would write a story about him… (Venus by Sleeping at Last)

Grian knew that things were coming to a head. The sea beneath his boat was insisting that it was not actually the sea. Again. He must be going mad, too, losing his mind just like he lost his heart to that awful void-beast monster from so long ago. But somehow, it felt right, to listen to the sea. To lean over the prow and let his fingers trail through its liquid light waters, let the starshine climb up his veins and ooze through his pores, through his system. It was dangerous, yes, but when he cried tears that glowed like joy, it felt good. Cathartic. Like a piece of his was returning to him. He could never get his heart back, and even if he could, he’d turn right around and hand it to Mumbo. But maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. (It’s Alright by Mother Mother)

Taurtis knew the end was coming. And he was okay with it- longed for it even. He had a heart, unlike his friend. But where he was going, the woman who he had set that feeble organ on, he didn’t need it. Ha. This was why Grian really was stupid, as much as he was his best friend. As if you needed a physical heart to love someone. Deep in the heart of hope lived the most beautiful of women in existence, and she would wake soon. And her emergence would kill him in all the ways that didn’t matter. So in the face of that, why not give his best friend one last gift? A steady trail of heart’s blood was perhaps not quite equal to a heart, but for Grian- so caught up on the physicality of the world, the goof- it would do well enough. And perhaps, with this, he would stop moping. Heroes got their happy endings at the end of time, right? (Never Seen Anything “Quite Like You” by The Script)

Bloody hell. What a way to wake up. Stress stared out across the broken remains of a world blown apart by her emergence. How awful it was that her chance at life was paid at the price of a hundred thousand lives. Tears ran down her face. She did not want this. But soon, a man came to her, or a figment of one perhaps. A breath of comfort on the wind, blacker than pitch, black enough that pulled light from the void itself. It wrapped itself around her, kissing away her tears. Clothing her in mother of pearl- fitting, for she knew she was destined to bear forth a new heart of hope. She did not want this, but the affection was appreciated all the same. It would be the only kind touch she would receive in a while, the work would take up most of her free time for the next millennia at least. The void-black ghost introduced himself as Taurtis, at her service, to help her in her task. It was more freeing than service to his best friend, he explained. A service chosen, not owed or forced or bound. And besides, he whispered shyly. He loved her. And perhaps, as Stress turned her eyes to the newborn universe beyond, she could learn to love him too. (cover of On the Arrow by AFI, sung by Rachell Rose Mitchell)

In the distant black, a goddess bore forth a new universe, her shadow of a lover at her side. In the light of the sea, a ship capsized as the waters underneath shuddered and bucked, for the spirit that ensured the ship’s safety was dead. And the man aboard it did not drown. To his amazement, of course. He really had expected to die. But then, hearts full up of love are perhaps the lightest things around and instead of sinking, Grian floated. And when he saw he could do that, joy filled his heart, buoying him higher, and he swam. He had his true love to return to. And when he returned, soggy and beaming, he saw just what lengths his Mumbo had gone to watch him and he freed him from his prison of redstone and wire to kiss him awake. He laughed, giddy, despite Mumbo’s groggy confusion. They were free! Free of longing, of hoping, of heartlessness and cold metal substitutes for love. They could be together! Mumbo just blinked, once, twice, before breaking out into a bright peal of jingling laughter. They were free! He tried to pick up Grian to swing him into a kiss, but his long vigil in his machine left him loose-limbed and weak. Grian kissed him anyway. (Time to Run by Lord Huron)

-----

 (Sailor Song) (This is Not Goodbye) (Neptune) (Voidfish Plural)  (Golden Leaves) (Venus) (It's Alright)  (Never Seen Anything "Quite Like You")  (On the Arrow)  (Time to Run)

[kgraces]

With a Fearful Trill

@badthingshappenbingo

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Captivity

For @sassydefendorflower​

Read it on Ao3 here!

The clouds overhead threaten rain, and Dick is seriously annoyed with himself for forgetting his umbrella that morning. The streets of Blüdhaven are crowded, as usual, and the cracked pavement under his feet makes for an uneven walk. Dick takes a sip of his cold coffee, mind alight with some sort of nervous energy. He can’t place it, but something feels off as he walks home from work. 

Dick stifles a yawn, stepping over a particularly mangled piece of concrete. His shift at work was a tough one; he’s wrapped up in a nasty homicide case as both Officer Grayson and Nightwing, and his brain feels sluggish after hours of wading through evidence. He checks his watch, frowning at the way the numbers seem to blur together. He thinks he’ll have time to get in a quick nap before patrol, at least. 

The foot traffic thins as Dick gets closer to his apartment, so it catches Dick off guard when a man pushes past him, hitting his shoulder roughly. Dick stumbles a bit, and before he can recover his footing, electricity arcs through him. Getting tazed hadn’t been a part of his plans for the day, and Dick only has a moment to mourn for his nap before he crumples to the ground. The sole of a boot enters his line of vision before it connects with his temple. He loses consciousness, sinking into the peaceful dark.

When Dick was a kid, he used to try to joke with Bruce about the stupid ‘Boy Hostage’ nickname. Of course, Bruce was never fond of the ‘X days since our last kidnapping incident’ whiteboard, but Dick thought it was hilarious. He mentally resets the counter back to zero when he wakes up tied to a chair. 

Years of vigilante experience honed into instinct kick in as soon as he regains awareness. He keeps his eyes closed and his body lax, listening hard to determine whether or not he’s alone in the room. He was kidnapped as a civilian, so he can’t fight his way out, but he can use his skills to help himself however he can. 

Still, this is probably going to suck.

Once he figures he’s alone, Dick carefully opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. A dimly lit basement greets him—underground, if the chill in the room is any indication. A short window close to the ceiling lets in weak sunlight through a heavy layer of grime. He’s mostly uninjured—for now, a voice in the back of his head sings—but restrained at his wrists and ankles. His head aches from getting knocked out, and his muscles feel stiff, but he’s okay. He just needs to tough this out until Bruce can track him down and orchestrate a rescue from Batman...

Dick’s blood runs cold.

Bruce is off-world with the Justice League.

Before he has a chance to really let the panic set in, he hears heavy footsteps and the jingle of a set of keys. The lock turns, light spilling into the room as a burly man steps across the threshold. He smiles, a nasty thing, and shuts the door behind him with a heavy thud. He holds up a cell phone, still smiling, and Dick recognizes his own phone in the man’s hand. 

“Mind explaining why your daddy ain’t answering his phone?” The man says, a sneer creeping onto his face and into his tone. 

“Call the WE number,” Dick says, voice more tremulous than he feels. Judging by the last vestiges of daylight leaking through the window, it’s still dusk, and if he knows his little brother, he’ll still be at work. Dick can only pray Tim will answer. The man dials the number, leaving them both to wait with bated breath.

“What do you need, Dick?” Tim’s smooth voice comes over the line after a few heartstopping moments. “I’m a little bit swamped right now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Grayson can’t come to the phone at the moment,” the man says, tone oily. Dick hears Tim’s sharp inhale over the line. “If you want him back in one piece, it’ll cost you.”

“I need proof of life, first,” Tim says coolly. The man sighs, as though he’s exasperated already, but he presses the phone against Dick’s ear, regardless.

“Tim?” Dick says, voice breaking just a little—the perfect image of a frightened civilian. His brother hums softly in acknowledgement. “Don’t worry about me; I’m fine. I’ll be okay.” He starts to ramble a little, but he’s cut off by a sharp blow to his ribs. He exhales a wheeze as the phone is jerked away from him.

“One million dollars and you get him back. Every hour you delay will cost him.” The man hangs up before Tim can reply, but Dick isn’t worried. Tim’s already tracking him, and the cavalry will be here soon enough. 

He looks up at the man holding him for ransom, disdain etched on his features as he looks into beady eyes. The man scoffs and shakes his head, turning to exit the room again. Dick wants to make a quip, some sort of stupid pun, but he can’t let himself seem too much like Nightwing, not right now. He bites his tongue and sits silently as the door swings shut again.

His headache worsens as the time passes. The light from the small window fades little by little, but it’s hard to track the time. Dick waits patiently, but his limbs itch for movement. He hates being restrained like this—cut off from grounding himself in motion. Nervous energy builds up in him, and he has to tap his fingers against the wooden chair arm to stop himself from losing it. He hopes Tim hurries up.

The next time the door opens, it isn’t to a vigilante, but rather to Dick’s captor. His smile is meaner, somehow, and he’s holding a hammer in his hands. Dick’s breath catches in his throat. Has it already been an hour? He doesn’t know, but judging from the man’s impatient pacing around the room, Tim is late.

The hammer swings, and Dick’s hand shatters under the force of the impact. He stifles a sob, and bitterness flares to life in his chest at the chuckle he hears at his side. He’s definitely got a few broken bones, but it’s not enough. The weapon hits Dick’s fingers next, and he nearly screams as white-hot agony roars through him. The man steps back, admiring his handiwork, before he snaps a photo with Dick’s phone and presumably sends it to Tim. 

Dick glares up at the man, hair matted with sweat as it falls into his eyes. He nearly snarls out a threat, but he has to resign himself to acting as a civilian would—terrified and vulnerable. He hates it, but it’s the role he has to play for now. The man leaves again, and Dick lets out a shaky breath. 

What’s taking his brother so long?

Another hour must pass. The sun has gone down, casting the room in shadow, and when the door to the small cell opens again, the light is blinding for a moment. Dick cringes back when he hears heavy footsteps. He can’t go very far with his limited range of motion, though, and his arms strain against the zip ties lashing his wrists to the chair. He hears a heavy sigh, but it isn’t his captor. 

No, the sound is mechanized, warbled by vocal modulators.

Jason.

His younger brother is at his side in an instant, using a knife to free him from his restraints. Dick hears him curse lowly at the sight of his mangled hand, so he offers Jason a reassuring smile. It probably comes across more as a grimace, but he tries his best. 

“C’mon,” Jason says, helping Dick to his feet and steadying him when he stumbles. “Tim’s going crazy upstairs. Someone needs to stop him before he permanently cripples someone.” 

“You left him alone to deal with them?” Dick asks, raising a brow. “That’s just not fair.” He pauses as a thought occurs to him. “Wait, how many guys are up there? I’ve only seen the one.” 

“Ah,” Jason says, and Dick can hear the cruel smile in his tone. “That guy. There were five others, but last I saw, Tim was going toe-to-toe with that one. Last man standing and all, you know how it is.” 

“He saved him for last on purpose,” Dick says with a sigh. His brothers are ridiculous sometimes. Overprotective over him, even though Dick is the eldest and should be worrying over them, instead. 

They make their way up the stairs, with Jason supporting most of his weight, since his legs are still wobbly from being restrained for hours. Dick can hear the sounds of the fight grow louder as they reach the first floor—sounds of shattering glass and wood splintering reaching him, along with the telltale thwack of Red Robin’s bo staff hitting its target. Dick almost winces in sympathy, but the pain in his hand keeps him from feeling bad for the guy.

“Let’s get out of here, Red!” Jason calls, sounding amused. “I got him, and GCPD is already on their way.” 

“Fine,” Tim replies, tone lilting on a whine. He emerges from one of the rooms branching off from the hall a moment later, looking perfectly put together, despite the fight. “Want the last word, Hood?”

“Don’t I always?” Hood passes Dick over to Red Robin and draws a firearm, heading toward the room Red had just left. Dick sighs, shaking his head as he hears both Hood and his assailant start shouting. He turns his attention to Tim.

“Thanks for the rescue,” he tells his little brother. 

“Like we would just leave you there?” Tim asks, tone sardonic. Dick grins at him. “Let’s get you back home, okay?” Dick nods and lets Tim lead him out into the night. One of the Batmobiles is already waiting at the street corner, and as soon as Tim gets Dick settled in the backseat, Jason joins them, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car. Tim pulls down his cowl and sends an unimpressed look toward Dick.

“What?”

“You’re an idiot for letting yourself get injured like that,” he says. “Also, B’s losing his mind.” 

“You told Bruce?!” Dick practically yelps. 

“Alfie insisted,” Jason says, turning to look at him. Sometime between starting the car and now, he’d tossed his helmet onto the passenger seat, leaving him with just a domino mask obscuring his features. “No one says no to Alfie.”

“Especially once those assholes started hurting you and broke the terms of the deal,” Tim grumbles. “They only waited half an hour.” He glances over at Dick, reaching out to examine the damage done to his hand. “Sorry they had the chance to hurt you, Dick.”

“It’ll heal,” he says easily, brushing off Tim’s concerns. He ruffles his little brother’s hair with his uninjured hand. “Please tell me Bruce didn’t come back to earth over this.”

“Okay then, we won’t tell you,” Tim says, grinning wickedly. Dick groans, letting his forehead rest against Tim’s shoulder. Tim and Jason laugh, but Dick can’t muster up a scowl to send their way. He’s safe, and he’s hurting and exhausted. Tim seems to notice him droop, slumping against his side a little more with each passing moment. “Get some rest, Dick. We’ve got you.”

“Sleep it off, Dickiebird,” Jason says. “You’re in for a hell of a lecture when you wake up.”

“Prolong the inevitable,” Tim agrees, nodding along. “We’re taking bets on whose lecture will be worse: Bruce or Alfred.”

“Nah,” Dick mumbles, smiling a little as Tim carefully wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Dami’s will be the worst of the bunch.” His brothers both snort, and Dick falls asleep to the sound of their laughter.

His brothers have him. He can rest easy.

[harostar]

How do you think of how AoT handles Anti Semitism, X Men fallacy aside. I've heard of how the reason the Eldians are so Hated was a result of reprehensible things there ancestors had done, and there religon with Ymir was sort of based on a Lie.

That would seem problematic at first glance, But I did want to learn more from someone who actually knew the series. Especially as I do know the situation in real life has complexities regarding Cycles of hate

You know, I had kind of set this Ask aside and been unsure about answering it. But I think I will give it a poke, as best as I can as someone that is one-degrees of separation from Jewish folks. So obvious disclaimer that I am approaching things from an outsider’s perspective.

The series stumbled heavily in choosing to so closely use allegories related to Nazi Germany and the Jewish people. I think a large percentage of the problem is because the Holocaust has become short-hand in public consciousness for Genocide and atrocities. Those images are scorched into the world-wide mind, and unfortunately touching on it as an allegory or using it as the basis for fictional discrimination is a very, very, very messy and difficult thing. ESPECIALLY when the creator(s) involved are not Jewish, and don’t understand the deeper aspects of Antisemitism that have been weaved into Western culture for centuries. 

Isayama borrowed from European history, used a historical atrocity to create a comparison in his work. He.......made many mistakes in doing so, because it’s a messy thing to do even when you ARE familiar with how much that hatred is woven into a lot of European imagery, stories, and beliefs. A Japanese audience is probably not going to pick up on those elements, the way a Western reader might for better or worse. 

I think that decision has muddled and tainted a lot of discussion around the series. Some people outright call it “Nazi Propaganda” and refuse to associate with people that read the series. I would argue that we are the audience have a lot of digest and discussion in terms of how the “Eldian Allegory” plays in comparison to the other themes of the work. 

Because the series would have worked MUCH BETTER had he not made the decision to base his fictional ethnic group on a real one. It was a mistake that casts doubt on a work that focuses so much on themes so opposed to a “Nazi” or “Fascist” ideology.

The atrocities of the Eldian Empire simply being exaggerations and demonizing, not matching a simple history of neighboring groups/nations fighting each other for resources and land. The idea of Ymir as a Goddess or a witch that made a deal with the Devil both being false versions of what was simply....a girl. An ordinary girl that stumbled across something Otherworldly, and gained a power that was exploited. 

The history of the series is simply about one group gaining an advantage over their neighbors. The Titans served as numerous metaphors throughout the series:

Dehumanization, especially in times of war

Gunpowder 

Chemical weapons

Nuclear weapons

The largest theme that emerges particularly in the final arcs of the story are explicitly Anti-War, Anti-Imperialism, Anti-Militarism, and Pro-Humanitarian.

Hatred and Bigotry are learned, they are things that people actively have to teach their children. The most powerful counter to Hatred is simply meeting other people. Our shared humanity proves that we are more similar than we are different. 

(This is beautifully illustrated in a flashback, in which the Survey Corps are infiltrating Marley. They end up meeting a group of foreign refugees, who welcome them into their camp for helping a child. Though the two groups do not speak the same language, they are able to understand each other enough to share in a communal meal and then party the night away. Even when we come from vastly different cultures and don’t speak the same language, we can find common ground. There is a simple joy in how people are people are people, no matter what differences we might have.)

In terms of the problematic elements, I would argue that Isayama did not intend anything Antisemitism about his work. In particular, he frames the allegorical Eldians as sympathetic with most of the cast coming from this group. The story centers on their plight and spends the most time in humanizing them. Ignorance rather than Malice. It taints the work, but also clashes with the major themes of the story. 

Indeed, our common humanity is such an important theme. Hatred and Revenge are empty, only leading to further tragedy. Eren represents those emotions and urges taken to the extreme, and that is ultimately why he becomes the Final Villain of the series. Because he allows hatred to consume him, and loses hope in the world. He can only see “Us vs Them”, and cannot see a path forward that does not involve Genocide. It’s a tragedy that warns us about letting anger consume us, and the dangers of surrendering ourselves to Violence being unavoidable. Eren can see the Future, and therefore he is trapped with the belief that there are no other paths forward. That he must follow in the footsteps of his future self, no matter what. 

It’s an ugly, tragic turn that transforms the series protagonist into a Monster. Into a world-ending monster that his loved ones must now deal with, because they have learned the lessons he did not.

The thing that separates the heroes in this story is Hope, but also a willingness to recognize the futility of revenge and hatred. As the final arcs progress, they are increasingly confronted with the option to look away from atrocities or to take revenge on people. Increasingly, they choose to take a different path.

The story of Sasha and Gabi is central in this particular theme. Sasha kills soldiers that Gabi knew, and attacked her home. But she cannot bring herself to shoot a child, even one that is clearly an enemy. Gabi is a child indoctrinated into Nationalistic, bigoted views. She kills Sasha as an enemy, but then finds her world turned on its head when she accidentally meets Sasha’s family. She’s forced to confront the reality that there are no Monsters and Devils, just ordinary people just like her that have suffered tragedies because of war. 

When given the opportunity for revenge, Sasha’s father refuses. He gives the “Forest” speech, comparing his daughter’s decision to become a soldier in war to letting her go alone into the forest. He accepts her decision and the tragic outcome, but also HIS responsibility as an adult to not pass burdens of Hatred and Revenge on to the next generation. He will not punish Gabi for being a child caught up in war. 

And this becomes an important moment for Gabi and for everyone else. She is not FORGIVEN for her crime, but these people make the conscious choice to spare her. Mikasa shields her from harm, Jean regrets hurting her in anger, they all make the choice to treat Gabi as a CHILD and not a soldier. To recognize their responsibility in doing better than the adults responsible for them. They were Child Soldiers, but they make the choice that the next generation SHOULD NOT be soldiers. 

The series deals heavily in Trauma, especially the ways that War destroys people. The physical, mental, and emotional cost to people are heavily on display throughout the series. The cast have suffered emotional and mental injuries that will never heal, and they struggle with wanting a better world for the next generation.

Children are another big theme. We have the cast start out as children, becoming Child Soldiers, and eventually reaching Adulthood. As they become the adults, we have a new generation introduced in Gabi, Falco, Udo, Sofia, and Kaya. The series gets a little heavy-handed with how Children are the Future, and people have a responsibility to not burden them. To not force their sins upon the children, to not teach them hatred or revenge, to not use them as tools. 

Zeke’s storyline contrasts with Eren’s in that each brother has reached a different conclusion about the central problem. 

Zeke wants to snuff out their own future, preventing more Eldians from being born. Their lives are suffering, so the kindest thing that can be done is to kill them or prevent them from being born. Life is meaningless, because living means suffering. 

Eren takes his hatred to its most extreme, deciding that to protect his “In Group” (the Island of Paradis) that he will destroy everything else. He has taken Dehumanization and Us vs Them mentality to its greatest extreme. He sees no future where people can do better. He refuses to even let them try. He has no hope, he sees only ugliness in the world.

In contrast, we have what has become the alliance. The surviving members of the Survey Corps, the surviving members of the Warriors, and an assortment of people from other nations. A motley group of people of different backgrounds, races and political alliances that are all brought together by a singular belief that the world is worth saving. That it shouldn’t be a Zero Sum game.

That the world is very cruel, but also very beautiful.

Hatred, cruelty, selfishness, greed, militarism, nationalism, imperialism, racism, and bigotry have led the world towards possible destruction. The Rumbling as a metaphor for Nuclear War, humanity destroying itself because it cannot look for a path besides violence.

The pure Destructive urge that is Eren, contrasted against the other two parts of that Golden Trio. 

Mikasa, the girl that was saved by a single act of kindness. The strongest of all, but also so very kind. A girl that has seen the ugliness of the world, but also the goodness in it. 

Armin, the boy with a dream. The intellectual that once asked if it was necessary to abandon your humanity to win, but has realized that our shared humanity is more important. The one filled with hope, even in the darkest moments.

And of course into this, we have Falco Grice. The boy that embodies the central themes of the story: a child soldier that has seen the worst of humanity, and has decided the best way to fight is by being Kind. 

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS: “A Cottage by the Sea” /// Part Four

I’m terribly sorry once again for the delay, but I can see the end in sight on this on now, and I have a good vision for where the rest of this story is going. I hope you will enjoy some of the happy developments in this installment, and (as always) I’d love to hear what you think!

~***~ Excessive thanks and flails once more to @searchingwardrobes​ for this lovely cover art! ~***~

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

Previous installments, from the beginning, on TUMBLR and on AO3

Part Four

Princess Emma had not been alone at sea for long when self-doubt and questions began to gnaw at her confidence and left her wondering if she should really have set out on her own. She was keeping the small vessel afloat and on course (she couldn’t wait to show Killian she really had been listening to his scattered lessons in their moments alone, even if she had been trying to steal glancing touches and quick glimpses at his unknowing features at the same time), but all the same, once the sun was overhead, beating down hot and unmercifully and she could see only unbroken ocean as far as the horizon in any direction, some of her fearless resolve left her. Why had she not tried to convince or bribe someone who knew more about navigation to come along? What if she were sailing further away from her beloved, instead of closer to him? How would she even get them back if she did locate Killian? What if he were hurt and she didn’t know how to help? She should have brought a healer!

The plaguing worries circled round and round, wreathing her head like a swarm of gnats, and Emma was unable to bat them away. Though she felt the gentle rhythm of the waves beneath her small craft, and knew that they were moving, there was no sign that she was closer to land - or any living thing at all. If she hadn’t been so desperate, so swept up in her emotions and determined recklessness, she would have brought more food and fresh drinking water than the couple of jugs and the bread and cheese she had grabbed. She could be out here for days or weeks, unable to find her way back - or to locate where Killian might be.

By the time the sun had fully risen, and she was well out of sight of Misthaven’s shore, and any other in any direction, Emma had worked herself into enough of a state that the adrenaline which had propelled her down the side of the castle walls, to the docks, and out to sea, was flagging in earnest and she sunk to the rough planks of her vessel, finally feeling the need for rest which had completely eluded her all the previous night. Despite that, she fought valiantly to keep her eyes open and to stay alert. She was sure she couldn’t even imagine all the danger she might face if she didn’t remain on her guard. Still, as time crawled forward, the steady rise and fall of the calm waters served to nearly rock her gently closer to slumber, her eyelids continually growing more and more weighted, until they fell closed and she leaned against the boat’s side in a doze.

For some time, the princess was lost to her surroundings, regaining the peace she had lost upon the moment she learned Killian was missing. But, ever-so-slowly, then gaining speed and clarity, images began to swirl in her mind’s eye, even as she slept. At first there were only blurs of color and flashes of hazy light, then the pictures playing in her head sharpened, allowing her to focus and understand.

Stirring fitfully, Emma began to wake, brought back to awareness by her effort to take in the vision as it came to her. When she clearly saw Killian, his dearly beloved face caught at her breath and caused her to shoot upright in excitement, she was fully roused once more. It seemed she was receiving some message - both not to give up as he still lived, just as her heart had known, and also as some guide to where he might be.

This Killian in her mind’s eye looked distinctly more bedraggled than she had ever seen him willing to appear in his uniform before - the material ripped and stained, and his hair half-dried and standing up in salt-clumped tufts. He walked along a beach strewn at intervals with pieces of what Emma knew must be his ship, and inwardly she cringed, knowing it would pain him to see it destroyed, and also at the thought of all the other lives which must be utterly lost as they had believed. Killian seemd completely alone in his surroundings. 

Emma noticed that the image before her was beginning to go hazy about the edges and fade, but she clung to it for every second she could, drinking in the view of him in a way she had never seen her straight-laced lieutenant before. A traitorous blush colored her cheeks as her eyes trailed along his bared collarbone from where he had removed his uniform jacket, and she itched to run her fingers along his forearms and feel the muscles she hadn’t been able to look at before on display from his rolled-up sleeves. She was almost ashamed to admit the way she was feasting on the view of his chest and the dark hair smattered generously across it. Emma had never seen his shirt fully opened like that since they had entered young adulthood; Killian was much too considerate of her station and sensibilities, plus self-conscious as well, to show off so much skin in her presence. Still, Emma could not seem to pull her gaze away, her palms sweating with the heat as she even imagined touching those unexplored planes of her sailor’s body.

When the image before her faded and re-formed, returning to her again in a slightly different setting, his reappearance nearly bowled her over. Killian wore no shirt at all; all tanned skin over strapping shoulders and darkly furred chest narrowing down to a trim waist. Though stained with dirt and sand, and ripped in places, Killian still wore the breeches and boots of his uniform as he fought his way through what looked like a jungle of island vegetation. Sweat trickled down his brow, and Emma wished desperately to be there at his side to wipe it away for him, to venture forward shoulder-to-shoulder toward whatever he was seeking.

Abruptly, he reached the end of the thick trees and undergrowth he had been fighting his way through, stumbling out of the dense tangle of leaves and vine into a large, quiet clearing, housing a calm, turquoise pool, green grass and a large rock near the water’s edge. It was a tranquil little oasis after the terrain Killian had just left behind, and Emma found herself wondering again just where this could be and how she might reach him there. In her vision, Killian hurried forward to the water’s edge, bringing hands up to splash his overheated face and neck then drinking greedily from his cupped hands as well.

As much as she wanted to linger there with him - in her mind, at least, if not in actual reality - this scene too began to disintegrate and vanish before Emma was ready. She strained her eyes to see him even a few seconds longer, or in hopes of another scene appearing, but soon all she could see was unending ocean and sky all around her once more. Rousing fully from the sort of trance she had entered at the vision’s arrival, Emma found that one thing did remain in the forefront of her awareness - as cearly and definitely as if it had been spelled out across her retinas. ‘Ogygia,’ a quiet, melodious voice seemed to whisper impossibly in her ear, ‘You may find him on Ogygia.’

Princess Emma’s brow furrowed, recognizing the name, but confused by the implication. She had studied folklore, legends, and mythology in her schooling - quite avidly in fact.  It was was one of the few subjects that genuinely interested her, memory and understanding coming easily, and she remembered the place. But, Calypso’s island? It was real? And how was she to find it?

Even as she wondered this, the same voice which had whispered the name into her consciousness now spoke again, offering Emma direction she wordlessly followed, plotting her course as this unknown entity directed. Indeed, such impulsive trust might be folly. She might live to regret listening to the siren song that led her forward - if she lived at all and was not lost upon the rising waves. All the same, she had no other directions to follow, no other way of knowing how to seek her missing love, and, for good or ill, she sensed this being speaking to her so sweetly and with such gentle care, meant her no harm.

She carried on the way she had chosen; better to take action and face the resulting consequences than to simply bob along the surface indefinitely until hunger, thirst or exposure took her while she waited. That would do Killian no good, wherever this island was that he had landed upon, and it would bring her no closer to him. These efforts at steering in a fixed direction might. Keeping her gaze ever forward, searching the horizon hopefully as the surface glittered at the noonday touch of the blazing sun as though strewn by diamonds, Emma forced herself to calmly follow through, to listen and obey the continued calm voice, which now felt as though it lodged within her own chest, at home, a thrumming part of her, and welcome as such.

Though she knew thirst and exhaustion, and the heat that began to weigh on her head and shoulders like a heavy cloak, made the time seem longer, she still felt the strain. It seemed as though hours had passed when finally, at the furthest reach of her sight, Emma thought she could make out a piece of land, rising like a beautiful mirage from the ocean stretched before her. Blinking, she leaned forward, even as she slumped with relief against her vessel’s wooden side, praying she was not mistaken. 

‘No, my dear,’ the soothing voice assured her, a subtle breath of cool air accompanying it as though the phantom blew by her ear on enchanted wings. ‘You’ve done it, Princess. Ogygia is straight ahead now.’

And with that, the mysterious presence which had served as her guiding companion was gone. As suddenly as it had appeared, Emma also knew in an instant it was with her no longer. 

Grateful all the same, she didn’t have it in her to be troubled. As this new shore drew ever closer, she felt a burst of endurance. She had no doubt now; she was about to look upon her sailor’s face again.

~~***~~

Killian, meanwhile, had been far from idle since his reunion with his mother, his purging of his grief and loss, and the long talk and reacquaintance they’d had after. When she had left him, Calypso (It was still nigh impossible to fathom (the goddess Calypso - his mother!) had vowed to return that evening so they could speak further, and he had made his way back to the beach where he’d washed ashore.

Though admittedly, Killian no longer felt as shaken, alone, or desperate as he had when first awaking on the strange spit of land, seemingly its own little world in the surrounding deep, he still intended to make his way back to his adopted home and kingdom. Not only was it his duty as a lieutenant of the Royal Navy, but he was the only surviving member of his ill-fated crew. How else could Misthaven’s royals and his fellow sailors’ loved ones know what had befallen them and pay their sacrificial struggle due homage? Beyond the demands of his honor, however, Killian also knew that his adopted family - monarchs though they might be and unworthy as he had always somewhat felt himself - would be grieving him along with his lost ship and comrades. And Emma… though he had long marveled at how it could be true, she loved him. He could see the depth of her feelings in her eyes as soon as she had confessed it at his departure. Perhaps it had always been there - even as they had played tag and crawled under the hedge to hide huddled together in the Royal Gardens, as they had curried their ponies after a ride and sloshed buckets of cold water at each other before they helped in the animals’ bathing, when they had watched Granny at her baking in the kitchens and Emma had nicked bits of chocolate or minced dates and offered him part of her prize with a gleam in her lively green gaze. He knew she would be mourning; her heartbreak on his account was nearly unbearable to consider. He knew that were he in her place, and he believed her lost, there would be no recovery. And that knowledge lent urgency to his actions.

Upon returning to the sandy shoreline, it had taken no time at all to salvage various wooden pieces and parts of the ship that he began to stack in a pile. Always able to make do resourcefully, Killian used shoots and vines in the surrounding vegetation to begin binding the boards together as he needed - working swiftly. It wasn’t long until he had fashioned a sturdy raft with a reasonably straight mainsail near the water’s edge. It was certainly no vessel like the one which had been lost to the stormy deep when he had landed on this beach, but he was both determined and impatient enough to take his chances. He also knew enough of the sea and of sailing to recognize that the tempest which had sunk Misthaven’s finest ship had been unnaturally malevolent - as if summoned with evil intent for their specific destruction. The strength and size of the ship in a gale such as that would have made no difference, and if one blew again as he attempted to find his way home, he would be every bit as lost, regardless of his craft. All things remaining as they should though, his makeshift vessel ought to prove seaworthy, despite not being much to look at.

As Killian had focused on his task, the time had slipped away almost without his notice. He obviously would never have left his mother after finding her again without speaking to her more and saying goodbye, but at the same time, he was anxious to be starting, to reach his princess’ side once more. So, when he fastened the last slat of wood in place, tying off the knot as securely as he possibly could, and stood to mop his brow, Killian was rather surprised to realize that the bright sun had slipped toward evening and he had not even started on his way back toward the lagoon where he had met Calypso that morning.

Just as he was wondering how to make his way there with the most haste, he felt the brush of a light breeze and sensed her presence nearby. He would have guessed that she needed to stay within water, but clearly that was not a requirement, as soon, soft, gentle fingers brushed over his shoulder like a refreshing trickle of cool water, and his mother appeared, unassumingly human, beside him.

“You’re leaving me, aren’t you?” she murmured lightly, a tinge of melancholy in her sweetly hypnotic voice, but no judgement or condemnation, only the regret of one soon to be separated from her child.

Killian bobbed the briefest of stiff nods before turning his head to face her, reaching to take her hand in his own and press it tightly, only hoping he could make her understand. “I’m sorry, but… I must,” he replied huskily.

The unearthly grace bestowed her by her nature shone through in the benevolent smile she offered him, leaning in to brush a kiss upon his forehead, just as if he were still a little boy, a gesture barely remembered but immediately soothing. Her elegant fingertips caressed the faded scar running high across his cheekbone, as if having not been there to patch it when it happened, she wished to take it from him. “You love her,” she answered simply, “the Princess. And since you do, of course you wish to return to her.”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, “I do.” He was grateful that she seemed to grasp his dilemma and did not blame him or begrudge him the choice he had to make. “And she loves me as well, wonder of wonders. I have no claim to court a Princess, but while she wants me, I will not fail her.”

“That is as it should be, my son,” Calypso assured, pulling him close to hug him once more to her chest. “But bear in mind that you are more worthy than you know - a sort of royalty in your own way…” She winked as she pulled back again to look him in the eyes with a mischeivous twinkle in her own. “You have never failed to be a man of honor, just as I would have wanted, just as your dear brother did all he knew to teach you, and so I knew you would desire to do no less. In fact, if you look out into the distance, you will see I have helped someone along on her way to you, making your raft rather unnecessary.”

Lightly placing her hands on his shoulders, his mother turned him to face out on the waves, where just at the horizon, he could see the sails of an oncoming ship appear. Still quite far out, it sailed closer with each passing moment - almost as if granted unnatural speed - but his heart genuinely leapt when the waning light caught the glint of gold atop the head of the form he could now see at the vessel’s wheel. Emma!

“Is that…?” he asked, gawking and struggling to believe it could be so. “Did you bring her?... But how…?” His curiosity and awe made the words trip over each other, but the grin that broke across his face unawares told Calypso all she needed to know.

Smiling back at her little boy, now a man grown, the sea nymph nodded sagely. “She was already on the water; I merely granted her eyes to see the way forward. This place is generally cloaked from outside discovery, to keep out Davy and his minions. But clearly, your Princess - this Emma of Misthaven - is bold and true and every bit as in love with you as you are her.”

Killian felt the warmth flooding his cheeks even beneath the growth of unshaven stubble as he dipped his head in slight embarrassment. Though it felt wonderful to hear confirmation from another of the glorious truth he had only very lately begun to accept, it was also a bit daunting to see that his feelings were so crystal clear, even to one he had just met. When he glanced back again, he could only smile at his mother, beaming from the joy in his heart at seeing his princess again and knowing she had not given in to despair. “Thank you,” he managed to croak through a throat tightly closing. “Truly. For saving me… and then for bringing her safely.”

As if allowing herself one last precious caress, Calypso brought her cooling hand to glide along her son’s forehead and brush aside the dark fringe of his hair. “You are most welcome, my love.” Her understanding smile barely wavered as she added quietly. “Now, go to her, as I know you wish to do.”

Killian caught his mother’s hand where it had come to rest at the side of his face, turning his head to kiss the center of her palm, squeezing it tightly in gratitude. Then, he gave her a bright, crooked smile before turning to dash down to the water’s edge, where Misthaven’s princess and her pilfered boat were drawing near.

~~***~~

Calypso lingered, looking on fondly as her son dashed into the tide when the boat reached the shallows. Despite the twinge in her own chest at the brief reunion she had been allowed drawing to a close, an indulgent smile still curved her full lips at how eagerly the Princess leaned over her little ship’s prow, trying to reach Killian sooner. She looked ready to dive in and swim to him if it would get her there faster.

Killian meanwhile had splashed into the gentle swells, nearly reaching the tiny craft where it bobbed on the waves. Water kicked up all around him, soaking his weathered clothing and flattening his hair to his skull, but none of that dampened his thrilled exuberance in the slightest. He was waist-deep when, lungeing forward, he caught the side of Emma’s boat, hauling it forward on the next rise, and then Emma was catapaulting over the edge and into his arms with a cry of delight that couldn’t help but warm the watching sea nymph’s weary soul.

Yes, all was as it should be again. Seeing the two reunited made their belonging to each other undeniable. Somehow, even in the ebb and flow around them, Killian kept his feet - barely - as Emma wrapped herself around him tightly, her hair whipping hin the breeze and hiding their faces behind its curtain as they placed frantic kisses all across each other’s cheeks and noses, and her royal gown trailed unheeded behind her in the water. Their lips broke from each other’s only to laugh in stunned joy and exclaim fragmented greetings, their voices overlapping each other front he soft echoes of the sound Calyps could catch on the wind from where she stood.

Joining hands, they began to tow the boat in the rest of the way to shore, each of their free hands holding to a side. However, about the time the water was only lapping at their calves, a larger swell swept up behind them, sending the boat knocking into them with force, and both Killian and Emma tumbling headlong into the water. 

Coming up spluttering and laughing harder, they merely caught their tiny craft once more as it bobbed nearby, and carried on cavorting and splashing each other with more quick kisses and caresses stolen in youthful bliss at being together again. And in some ways, in that moment they were more free together than ever before; free of conventions, rules, propriety and disapproving stares. It was then, with that lovely, bone-deep happiness to remember on his face, that Calypso slipped away as well, leaving them to their well-earned privacy and celebration, darting and playing in the sand and foam.

She could give them this moment in her protected haven; wished truly that they could stay forever with her. But they could not remain hidden on Ogygia indefinitely; both had a destiny to fulfill back in Misthaven and too much sense of their duty to shirk it. The goddess could only hope fervently that their worst trial was now behind them - even if her better judgement warned her that Davy Jones would not yet be ready to admit that his second son had escaped his grasp.

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