#and how indigo had promised to heal her too

[their-dearest]

As I promised, here are the headcanons of my favourite Tsurumian boy, Ruu!

Physical appearance:

4’6 height

Indigo hair, fluffy and reaches by his nape.

Prior to his resurrection, Ruu had dark blue eyes (Almost black.)

But after being blessed by the Thunderbird, his eyes changed into a vibrant blue hue with red irises.

But unfortunately, his eyes had lost their shine, like Tartaglia fashion.

Speaking of shine, his eyes became one of his newfound insecurities.

Relieving your death for 2,000 years does wonders to your mind (sarcasm)

Random ahh headcanon, but he has calloused hands.

He worked with his father with hunting food soo there's that.

Personality headcanon:

ESFJ 6w7 (I might go in depth with it some other time buuut not today)

Positive traits: Caring, soft-spoken, and understanding.

This lil guy can fit so much empathy in his 4'6 body

He may not understand certain things, but he's more than willing to lend a person his shoulder.

Speaking of understanding, this guy is a extrovert. Not the same lvl as Paimon, but still a chatterbox filled with curiosity.

A random hc is that I imagine him as the older bro for Paimon.

Paimon: "You're not seeing things from Paimon's point!" [Sitting on the ground while sulking.]

Ruu: [squats down her level to meet her eye to eye.] "Okay, go on. I'm listening." [Doing all this with a lil smile ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ]

Paimon: Why, you—!

Writer: [chaos ensues]

(Bonus points is that he didn't know it was offensive... He's confused but he got the spirit!)

Onto the negative traits. He can be a bit of a traditionalist. He only knew his island for 2,000 years, so it's only safe to assume he does things the way his parents do it.

Like making sure to do things three times per day.

And so on and so forth.

But there are times his traditional values are challenged, and he gets stubborn about them.

Although after a few self-actualization and spending in the nature will he realize the other's POV.

Speaking of caring, there are times he can be a people pleaser.

Hungry for more fish? Sure, he'll give you his only meal.

Cold? Sure, he'll give you his coat and sleep in his undershirt.

Some habits die hard, i guess.

But because of his people pleasing attitude, he becomes sensitive when criticisms arise.

Ruu: These values are all I have! They're the only thing connecting me to Tsurumi... To my mother.

Abilities:

Finally! The fun part!

Since im this AU, Ruu is resurrected by the Thunderbird, he basically had some of her abilities, although weaken and still clumsy.

First is his electro affinity. He has some control over the electro element despite not having a vision... Although when ashed by strangers, he simply say that he keeps his vision hidden.

Some degree of electro immunity. Well, he is MADE from her remaining power so it'd be weird not to add it here. BUT throw his ass in the Raiden domain and he's coming out extra crispy.

Wings manifestation: Sorta like Wanderer's skill, he can summon wings to aid his journey. The cost? It is tiring to use on the long term.

Some healing capabilities: he can heal small gaze and bruises, but anything bigger than that will require an electro source for him to absorb.

Immortality: lil guy is a spirit now, so unless he runs out of Electro fuel, he's here for a long time.

Likes and dislikes:

Let's state the obvious: He likes to travel. A lot. To the point of being stuck in one place can seem tiresome to him.

He likes the ocean AND seafood (srry Nahida and Zhongli.) He grew up learning how to fish and watching his mama cook their meal, so it's a very sentimental thing for him.

To add on the last hc: When Ruu's upset, he'd fly to the nearest body of water and listen to the streams/waves to calm him down.

Likes fermented veggies! (Ainu culture irl have a lot of them, so it's only fair I incorporate that into his character.)

Onto dislikes!

He hates blood and pain for... Obvious reasons.

Not too keen on spicy food (He would have a love hate relationship w/Kimchi fr fr)

Used with more simple flavors (serve him curry and he'll combust like a fucking overcharged slime.)

He has such a fascination with songs and instruments!

Random fact: In Ainu culture, people pass down their legends and stories through oral literature.

So he also wants to hear about Teyvat through its songs. (He would've LOVE Yunjin and her opera.)

He loves birds, especially the bigger ones!

Although this may sound odd, but he has grown an irrational fear with silence.

If there's ever a beat of silence in a conversation, he would immediately fill it in with a soft hum or a random thought.

Oh! Also he's close to his mama, which I hc to be named as Sak. (Sak means summer while Mata (his papa) means winter.)

Likes thunder and foggy place cuz Nostalgia and all.

Anyways! That's all for now, and I hope to write more about him in the future. Also pardon the typos, I wrote this shit in 1 am.

[isleofdarkness]

who is joss?

That's a question a lot of the Isle would like an answer to. Unfortunately, not even Joss seems to know.

She's fourteen, at Harriet's best guess, and they're fairly certain she's a civilian kid. She doesn't remember her parents, but she has a distinct impression that both are dead. Her theory is that her scar (more on that in a second) came from the same time, as if whoever killed her parents tried to kill her, too. Lydia guesses, based on how her bones have grown, that Joss was around two when the scar was created. Her age combined with the brain injury that had to have come from the wound, it's no wonder she doesn't remember what happened.

Joss looks like someone took a downward swing at her face with an axe. The right half of her face, starting halfway through what should be her right eye and ending behind where her right ear used to be, is gone. Whatever caused the wound took out nearly a third of her jaw, a small bit of her neck, and an undeterminable amount of her frontal lobe. Her ribcage is also crooked, as if someone took an axe to where the two sides of her ribs met and broke completely through the cartilidge, and the injury didn't join up properly. Both injuries should have killed her in a few seconds, if not instantly. But she survived both.

Joss has healing abilities. That's how she survived the injuries, everyone is sure, and they make her a huge asset to the gang because she can extend them to heal others.

But why would someone try to kill a baby like that? Well, the answer is likely not usual Isle love of crime. The answer is almost certainly the colour of Joss's skin; a deep, glittering indigo.

Joss is one of the few who was born with an obviously nonhuman skin tone (Harriet thinks, based on Joss's abilities that would definitely match up, that Joss is part mermaid, a deep-ocean mermaid,) but she's the only one that's ever lived past the age of five. Joss is basically an outlier that shouldn't be counted, as she's currently the only one and is definitely more of a miracle than a change to the rule.

Of course, Joss's survival also came from her learning fast. She started covering herself head-to-toe before she could remember making the choice. Covering up every inch of skin has just been instinct to her for as long as she can remember. She also uses a plastic mask under her bandages, which makes the formation of her skull less obvious, and wears goggles with lenses thick enough that no one can see that she's missing her right eye. From there she became another anonymous face on the street.

Until the war.

No one knew if she was with the Jungles, but Diego mentioned a Jungle girl who would come by once everyone was gone and heal his wounds, seemingly by humming lullabies. He couldn't describe her, of course, but Harriet figured the unusual description of "covered every inch of skin and wore goggles" would help her pick her love's mysterious helper out of the crowd.

It did, but not until years later. She found Joss when Joss was around twelve, trying to steal fish from a member of her crew. She'd originally been angry, but when she realized that this strange fish thief covered every inch of skin and wore thick, black goggles, both extremely unusual in the summer heat, she wondered... she let the girl take a fish and promised that if she came back tomorrow, Harriet would give her more. Harriet reached out to Diego and asked if he still remembered the strange Jungle girl. He did, and she asked him to stop by the ship tomorrow to see if she just found her.

Joss came back for more fish, as starving Isle children do, and Diego recognized her. The years had changed her, obviously, but she still had this strange, liquid way of movement. She seemed to move with grace beyond even a cat, like the flowing of water, and he remembered that. When she hummed to confirm that she wanted more fish when Harriet asked, Diego recognized her voice. Changed a bit, sure, but somehow still exactly the same. Harriet asked if Joss knew Diego, and she hummed a yes. When asked if she was the girl who had healed Diego, she hummed another yes.

Harriet offered her a place on the crew right then and there.

It didn't take the crew long to adapt to Joss. Maybe it was her skin, a detail that would keep her from being a plant by Maleficent, or maybe the fact that she couldn't speak, or maybe it was just something about the curiosity and lack of boundary testing, but something helped them trust her quickly. Harriet found out during a small battle that Joss knew the back alleys and side streets of the Isle like no one else. She knew exactly how to get around the Isle without ever being seen and, as a bonus, she knew where predators would hang out and labelled these places on maps so that Harriet's crew could avoid them. Joss is always a key player when making plans, and she has yet to steer them wrong.

Joss is also trying to improve the survival rate of people with strange skin. She's only managed two out of ten she's heard of, but thus far she's saved Curse, who's three and has light violet skin, and Bloom, who's around three months old and has green skin. She's their older sister now and by the gods she will protect them with her life.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

A crowd was quickly gathering in the courtyard, the song of blades drawing the crown prince closer. He paused before the Kingsguard to see who was at the middle of it; it was his parents. Of course it was his parents.

Aemon smiled, taking his place between Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime, watching his mother's offensive attacks closely.

Her strikes are too heavy, Aemon thought as his gaze shifted between the king and queen. Not as effective against a man who's so quick and light on his feet. Learning from and duelling with Ser Arthur over the moons taught him much and more about the art of swordplay.

The King Rhaegar Targaryen moved as if he were some fabled warrior, weaving and bobbing and dodging, blocking and striking in lightning-quick movements. Aemon could only watch in awe.

"How long have they been at it this time?" He asked Ser Arthur.

"At least an hour, maybe a bit longer," Ser Jaime cut in, watching them practice with a gaze as intense as Arthur's, though a smile graced his face when Lyanna blocked another quick strike.

"You know how your parents are, my prince," he heard the deep tones of Ser Oswell behind him. "It'll be much the same tomorrow, I have little doubt."

"It's your stance and footwork," the good king told his wife and drew Aemon from his thoughts, sounding as if he had not broken a sweat. "They make it easy for me to deflect your attacks."

The Queen Lyanna struck again, clashing sword with sword, the blow so heavy that Aemon saw sparks fly even in the harsh midday sun. "I need them to be," she huffed, her exhales blowing through the spaces of her teeth. "How else can I learn about your stances and footwork?"

The heavier the strikes, the quicker it would be to break a block, Aemon knew. A few more of those and she may brute force her way to victory—if she hadn't worn herself out before the end of it. Before he thought she'd land another one, though, she abruptly broke away and circled him like a she-wolf on the prowl.

Rhaegar's indigo eyes were darkened by the heavy shadow casted by his long eyelashes, following her every move. His lips pursed, just as Aemon's had.

"You are studying me." It was not a question. Nor had she deigned to give an answer.

Instead she laughed, a breathless but low chuckle that made his king father falter for a moment. "Swing your sword, husband mine. Swing and fight."

She stepped in and met him.

Once, twice, thrice their blades kissed, sparks flying with every hit. Lyanna's eyes were alight with elation and laughter, filled with imminent victory as Rhaegar stumbled backward. Then he regained his footing and continued their dance, matching hit for hit before he gave a final underhand swipe from the back of his blade and disarmed her, rushing in close to rest the blunted sword at her throat.

Out the corner of Aemon's eye, he saw Ser Arthur nod his approval.

"You almost had me," he huffed, a smile of satisfaction creeping across his face. His eyes were low, full of a liquid, promised heat that Aemon was sure no one was meant to see.

"Next time, I will." Her voice had that defiant tilt, her chest heaving under the heavy leather. Her dark hair spilled from the tie it was in and framed her long face in soft waves. Stepping backwards from him, she opened her arms, smile widening. "Come and claim your winnings, my king."

He laughed, tossing his sword aside before he strode to Lyanna and gathered her in his arms. He dipped her down to meet his lips with hers, burying his fingers in her hair.

Aemon made a face, electing instead to watch the crowd disperse.

"We too should let them be," Jaime snorted, turning away.

"Yes," Ser Arthur agreed, then his violet eyes rested on Aemon as he arched a brown-black brow. "I believe it is now time for your lessons, my prince."

He inwardly groaned. His bruises still haven't healed from last week's series of lessons...

[chelseacatgirl]

*Note: This pic was drawn back on April 2nd 2023*

====

First pic: Before "Heal the Cutie"

Second pic: After "Heal the Cutie"

=

Meet my newest Crash Bandicoot OC.

Name: Judith Mouse

Species: Mutated Field Mouse

Gender: Female

Mutated by: Dr. Nefarious Tropy

Voiced by Luci Christian *Rico from Gunslinger Girl*

https://youtu.be/a4UiTQispiI?t=20

Judith is an orphaned Field Mouse child was one of the many Mutants mutated by Dr. N. Tropy that were locked up in one of the abandoned facilities of the Cortex Commandos as his failed attempt to have an army of them as they rejected him for as they refused to be evil, while some others came to work for Nitrus Brio and N. Gin *Something that happened one year before Crash Twinsanity events*, Crash, Coco, and Crunch had freed the many mutants that were against N. Tropy, and Judith was one of them, yet she was too quiet to be noticed and left on her own. She never had friends either.

One year later, after scavenging for food and trying to survive by herself, Judith was taken in by Crooncrool Crumb when she trespassed into his haunted mansion. However, due to the fact Mr. Crumb is very miserly, cruel, friendless, and never intended to have friends, he is very cruel towards her as she lived with him for 3 years.

One day, Crash Bandicoot and his friends, as well as the Cortex Commando Mutants entered Viscount Devil's Treasure Haunt competition to find the mysterious indigo colored crystal, in which secretly he wants for himself as it contains great power, it was the same crystal Mr. Crumb was also going after because he's greedy for treasures.

During the treasure hunt, Judith would befriend Brok the InvestiGator, from another dimension, whose lost memories of Crash and Spyro's dimensions have taken on a sprit form while also having his memories from his dimension intact that were copied over from his true self after he traveled back in time combined with a few other phenomenons, and then meeting Nozomi, Crash, and their friends, becoming her first friends.

She would later leave Mr. Crumb forever and help her new friends and the Cortex Commandos find that crystal before he and the Viscount do after learning it was all the latter's set up.

After Crash stops Mr. Crumb, Brok came in contact with the crystal, turning his spirit form into a physical form, yet he still isn't the true Brok himself, the crystal itself is then rendered powerless.

Judith was then taken to the Refuge Village for Mutants where Brok and Nozomi promised to take care of her, as she gets new clothes from Nozomi that she made herself while she acts as a sister figure towards her as Brok wants to make up for his past mistakes for not being there for Graff for family matters, so he acts as a father figure towards Judith, in which she wants to be a detective when she grows up, all while Brok hopes to see Graff again one day.

=

Judith is physically two years younger than Bumpy Woylie.

She really loves to eat cheese.

Occasionally, Vivi Otter would babysit her.

=

Judith was inspired by such child characters like 9 year old Rin on Inuyasha *For survival skills*, Eri from My Hero Academia *Having a similar rough past like being abused by their past guardians that are antagonists, but later live in facilities that offer them better lives*, Anne-Marie from All Dogs Go to Heaven, 7 year old Fievel Mousekewitz and 8 year old Tanya Mousekewitz on An American Tail *Design influences*, Olivia Flaversham from Disney's the Great Mouse Detective, and Penny from Disney's the Rescuers, thus how Nicole would have been in DIC's second Sonic the Hedgehog cartoon of the same name AKA SatAM's lost Third Season in her true form and after having her true form restored.

Judith's meeting with Mr. Crumb and her relationship with him was inspired by how Gatomon from the 1999 Continuity of Digimon Adventure met Myotismon as Salamon and how she suffered abuse and despair from those days because of him, only without corrupting the cutie moments.

She was even named after the late Judith Barsi, a child actress who did voice work for Don Bluth films like Ducky in The Land Before Time and Anne-Marie in All Dogs Go to Heaven, she had a rough life and at age 10 had hers and her mother's lives taken from them by her own monster of an abusive father, which happened three years before I was born.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judith_Barsi

=

Drawn on ibisPaint X on my Samsung Galaxy Tab A.

Crash Bandicoot Series © Activision

Judith Mouse (c) Me

[starjxsung]

hi angel <3 how are you doing? when are you seeing ateez? i’m so excited for you :’)

i still haven’t heard anything back from my practicum so im stressin (: but trying not to die of anxiety bc idgaf if i keep studying in this uni tbh but we persist. i’m so ready for lolla and forgetting my problems for a sec.

thank you for sending love☹️ she passed away post op because she was too weak, it breaks my heart so much </3 they did do the bloodwork beforehand but it wasn’t included in the receipt bc i got all karen when they called us. the vet was still kinda sketchy and def isn’t really good at talking with ppl. but they were nice enough. i just wish they would’ve communicated the risks a little better </3 but im just glad she isn’t in pain anymore.

i don’t have a record player that works either lol. i just love vinyls bc they’re so pretty. i really really want indigo but everywhere ive seen it it’s so expensive😭 i had never seen any shinee ones so now i need one too😭😭 mine is so pretty tho! i don’t have pics of the disc in itself but it’s white and so cool. but i do have my pulls✨ the poster is huge and so cool too. it’s on sale @ amazon super cheap.

manifesting hello kitty woo & hongjoong forever✨ i love you sm bb! i hope everything is going well! and just in case you see ateez b4 you see this message, i hope you have the best time!! yeosan pics are always welcome and appreciated✨

(also how are u feeling after seeing jisung’s fits this weekend? he looked so good😭)

love,

🐈‍⬛

BAEEEEEEE I see Ateez today I’m so excited !! 👼🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 Hongjoong my rockstar bf (Hanji is my other one) it’s been over a year since I’ve been to a proper kpop concert that wasn’t a festival or solo show I am so fucking hyped RAHHHHH I promise to get as many Yeosang pics as physically possible 🙂‍↕️

I’m so sorry you haven’t heard from your practicum site yet :((( I can’t believe these places are able to get away with being this disorganized. My sister hasn’t heard from hers either and they still haven’t sent her new laptop she’s supposed to use in her first training next week so she’s also trying not to stress bc there’s literally nothing she can do ☹️ fuckkkkk these places for wasting time the way that they do

I’m so sorry to hear that she passed :((( I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore but I still can’t help but feel like it was partially their fault this happened in the first place :( how is your boyfriend coping with all of it? Sending you guys all my love and healing vibes and I hope your kitties are comforting you guys during this tough time :( it’s just been such a rough month.

AAAAA in better news the Ateez vinyl is SO cute?????? Neeeeeed 😭🫶 indigo was super expensive (I think like $60-70) but I saw it randomly in stock at target and I couldn’t resist 😭 my dad has a working record player I might just steal from him bc I don’t feel like shelling the money out for another but I want to play my vinyl at some point. Ohhh to have parents you can steal from 🫶😋

I love you so so much bby I can’t wait to tell you all about both my Ateez shows !!!!

Also Jisung’s outfits this weekend……. 😦 my sister said if she had one wish in the world it’d be to never hear my horny thoughts about Jisung ever again. And I think that perfectly describes how bad I was thirsting over him all week. I hate children but I would bear a whole CHILD for this man……. 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

ALSO DID YOU HEAR ABOUT TAEMIN TOUR….. genuinely tweaking rn. I can’t ❤️🧍‍♀️

[savvyjabby-blog]

Death Cast her Gaze upon the Wicked

WHo saId thEY waNtEd InDiGO JulIAn angst????????? HeRe YOu GoOo

Pain. Mind numbing pain. That’s the only sensation Indigo’s felt for the past few days. Every inch of her skin seared under an invisible ember, the slightest of movements setting ablaze a freshly ignited fire. Her limbs seemed disconnected to her every time she managed to peer at them through the glossy red film over her eyes, as if they’d been cut off, but still managed to dangle about.

Suffering through an onslaught of newborn wildfires along her neck, she managed to turn her head ever so slightly, catching sight of a shadowed figure, illuminated purely by a few waning candles here and there. The warm glow from the soft flames couldn’t relax the frenzied look plastered upon the paleing man’s face, his forehead slightly pink from the amount of clawing through his rich auburn hair he’s done. He mutters to himself under the fireside lights, scribbling down chicken scratch here and there, almost anywhere he could, a vain attempt at trying to figure out the problem at his fingertips. He could feel it, as though the answer was just under his fingertips, like he’s brushed by it before, like it’s-

A single, sputtering cough shatters the silence of the room, startling the doctor into a frozen state for a moment, as if he forgot he was apart of this world for a while. Indigo gingerly raises her shaking hand to her eyes, only to confirm that the crimson splatters smudged along her palm were indeed from her.

“So this is what mother felt like.”

The words were almost meant to be unheard, like a faint breeze had simply flown through the tiny brick cell for a moment. But the doctor’s eyes shot open wide at the few whispers of the ginger behind him, a wave of concern and sorrow washing over his chiseled features. The inkwell glued to his hand moments before tips over onto its side, black, inky liquid spilling over onto the doctor’s hands. But he makes no move to clean them, and instead grasps for Indigo’s hand, heat radiating off of every surface of her possible.

“Indigo…” Julian whispers, squeezing her hands softly,  the black ink smearing and running down her boiling hot fingers. “Just hang on. I’m going to find a cure, I swear, I’m almost there. It’s on the tip of my tongue…”

“Julian,” Indigo mouths, trying her absolute best to keep from letting out a cry of pain from the numbness, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about me, you’re gunna figure this out on your own.” Tears threaten to slip past her scarlet red eyes the longer she looks up into those grey mirrors of his, blinking them back with every ounce of strength she can muster.

“I’m going to heal you, I promise.”

And suddenly Indigo is looking down at a little ginger girl next to her bed,much too young to have her bright emerald eyes sparkling with a fresh set of tears. She clings to Indigo’s hand with a death grip, a slight black cloud emitting from her fingers, her voice echoing with Julian’s. “I’m going to heal you, I promise. I promise, Mother.”

And just like that, the tears flood from her eyes, cascading down her burning hot cheeks, a soft wail of pain escaping from her lips. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” She whispers to the two before her, both looking at her with such a deep sadness rooted behind their eyes.

Tears flow freely from Julian’s eyes now as well, the sight of Indigo so shattered, so broken, so vulnerable being all the reason he needs. He aches to console her, to try and take away all of the pain and suffering she’s been cursed with. But instead he has to endure watching her writhe and moan in pain, without the slightest idea of how to give her any sort of relief.

She calls out to him, barely being able to pull him from his own misery. She clenches her hand slightly between his,trying to find the right words to say. But is there really any words that are right, when you already know what’s to come?

“Julian, I… I’m taking myself to the Lazaret tomorrow.”

“What? You’re joking, you’ve got to be j-”

“I’m serious, Julian. I’m a lost cause, stop wasting your efforts on trying to save me, use your gifts to help others I-” She pauses, collecting herself from breaking down once more in front of him. “I, I’m okay with it. I’ve accepted my fate, I-I deserve this, after everything wrong I’ve done in my life.”

Julian cannot bear to hear these words fall from her lips, this isn’t the Indigo he knows, not the mischievous, goofy Indigo that he- well, he’s-

“Indigo, don’t say that, don’t just- don’t say that. I don’t know what you’ve managed to do in your past that makes you believe that you could ever possibly deserve th-”

“I killed my family, Julian.” She interjects quietly, the memories flashing through her mind at the mention of it. “That’s why my magic is so dark. Everything about the evil of the night, that’s what gifted me my magic.”

Julian stares in shock at the ginger before him, trying to comprehend anything of what she just confessed.

“That’s impossible. WHy can’t you just tell me what actually happened? It’s probably just a misunderstanding on-”

“No, Julian. I… I don’t want to burden you with my sins, I think it’s only right for me to take the to the grave, that way… that way they can die peacefully, in some aspect.”

Indigo refuses to meet those grey eyes now, she can feel the hatred for refusing to reveal her past to him weighing over the room. Julian opens his mouth to say something, but closes it every time he tries. Unsure of what to say, he turns back to his desk silently, promising Indigo that he will find a cure for her.

*******

Indigo gently presses her body against the solid wood door, careful not to wake Julian from his desk. She risks one last look at his sleeping figure, the ink from before smudged all along his forearms, his jawline, everywhere. His even breathing in his slumber casts a bittersweet frown across Indigo’s face, the realization of what she’s doing hitting her in the gut.

BUt hse can’t back out now, she refuses to allow those around her to suffer anymore because of her, she’s let that virus plague her for far too long.

Latching the door back into place, Indigo turns back to the eerie darkness of the operating room before her, a single, lanky figure hovering over her, their eyes a beady red under the torchlight, awaiting for her to speak the words to them.

“Valdemar, I’m ready.”

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2022, Day 2 - Tender

(Short but hopefully sweet, enjoy!)

---

Robin came to with a sharp sensation of pain slicing through his head.  He groaned, the pain throbbing through him, heavy and almost overwhelming.

A soft touch stroked down his cheek.

"Ngh," Robin muttered.  "What...?"

"Lie still," a gentle, sweet voice that he immediately identified as Starfire's said.  "You have sustained a concussion, and a few other injuries," she told him.

He blinked up, his vision blurry, the light too sharp, too bright, his ears ringing, but he thought he could see her wide smile beaming down at him.

"I will have Raven attend to them momentarily," she promised.

Dazed, all Robin could reply was a dull, "Okay..."

He let his head slump back against what felt like her arms and just stayed there, his thoughts swimming, the pain in his head throbbing rhythmically through him.

Piece by piece, his memory and awareness came back.  They had been fighting... Cinderblock?  He recalled the villain bellowing, a large concrete fist... He must not have been able to dodge in time.  Maybe that was why his back ached too, and his head, and... well... everything really.

Starfire had him, though.

He'd be okay.

***

Starfire cradled him close, waiting patiently as the other three finished passing Cinderblock off to the authorities.  She stroked her fingers down Robin's temple, hoping the gentle touch might break through and ease some of his pain. He seemed to appreciate her gestures, mumbling contentedly as he leaned into her.

Raven made her way over, serious, severe eyes glancing up at Starfire from under her indigo hood.

"What's the damage?" she asked.

Starfire shifted a bit, adjusting her hold on Robin.  "I believe he has a concussion, at the very least," she told the empath.

Raven took one look at him and agreed with a nod.  "Yeah probably."  She scanned down him in an impartial, clinical fashion, assessing.  "He's got a few minor bruises... gash on his head where he hit the wall..."  She knelt down by them and readied her hands, meeting Starfire's eyes again.  "I'll handle the worst of it, but can you take it from there?" she asked, eyes anxious, probing.

Starfire nodded.  "I will take care of him.  Do no worry," she promised.

Raven smiled softly and extended glowing, healing hands over Robin.

Starfire felt the healing energies wash over the boy in her arms, easing hidden tension, sapping away pain.  Robin exhaled with a sound of relief, falling even softer against her, his nose almost pressing into her stomach, sleepy and affectionate.

After a few deliberate blinks, he looked up at her, eyes still struggling to focus.

"What hit me?" he asked.

Starfire felt a wry smile stealing across her face.  "Cinderblock, unfortunately," she told him.

He pinched his eyes closed again, slumping a little.  "That tracks..." he groaned.

One orange hand came up to cup his cheek, worriedly.  "Are you in much pain?" she inquired, an anxious note in her voice.  "Raven did what she could."

Robin just leaned into her gesture, giving a little hum at her contact.  "Back of my head aches.  Shoulder... side... kneecaps..."  He nuzzled a bit into her middle.  "You feel soft," he mumbled.

"Yooooooouu better get him back to the Tower," Raven observed with some concern.  "He might need more than one healing session."  She gestured to the battlefield.  "I'll clean up here and then come right away."

Starfire nodded and slipped her arm under Robin's legs, lifting him up easily.  She curled him very gently against her torso, tucking him in and floating up, gaining speed slowly so as not to jostle him.

It was a short flight.  Starfire carried him downstairs to the medical bay and sat him down on a bed.  He managed to stay upright, rubbing the heels of his palms against his brows carefully as Starfire stepped across the room to find the supplies.

"I think it's better now," he told her.  "Ringing's gone."  His eyes flicked up.  "How long was I out?"

"Long enough for concern," Starfire said.  She set the bandages and bottle of antiseptic on the bed next to him, then carefully tilted his head so she could see the gash in the back.

Robin held still as she checked him over.  "Aren't you always concerned though?" he quipped lightly, being the perfect patient as she poked and prodded.  "Something about me being squishy and breakable?"

"You are horribly breakable, my love," Starfire said, a rush of genuine anxiety and concern touching her eyes for a moment.  "But do no worry," she teased, "I will handle you gently."

Robin chuckled.  "I trust you," he said, no hint of playfulness in his voice now, just earnest affection.

"I know you do," she whispered back, letting her hands linger on his arm a moment before she began to tend to him.

She had him.

He'd be okay.

[kiki-shortsnout]

You know, people say that IronStrange is a sad ship because they're clearly "right person, wrong time". But I think our ship is sailing on tears because Tony and Stephen are "right person, not enough time".

Can you use this as a prompt? If you're not busy? Or if you feel like it? Thank you 🥺

Of course I can use it as a prompt! What I came up with is a little but sad though!

Warnings: Mention of a terminal illness. (Nothing specific)

***

Smoothing out the collar of his shirt, Stephen checked his reflection in the mirror, picking up the bouquet of flowers he’d placed down on his desk. Taking a deep breath and checking his reflection once again, he practiced his smile before he left his bedroom.

He’d done this walk thousands of times without thinking about it too much. The Sanctum corridors were part of the background of his life, the setting blending into all the other memories he had of it. Today was different though, today he took his time to look at everything as he walked.

One of the cabinets was missing a ceramic incense burner that Stephen had always secretly hated. It was meant to ward off evil spirits and the like, but it had always given Stephen the eerie feeling of being watched. Tony had bumped into the cabinet by accident, leaving an indent in the wall that Stephen now brushed his fingers over. The accident had destroyed the gruesome thing, and Tony had replaced it with a sculpture of his own, a miniature Iron Man figurine.

‘That will stop the evil spirits dead in their tracks.’

His clutch on his flowers faltered as he looked down at the figurine, a few petals fluttering down to the floor.

Stephen could feel his resolve wavering, and he bowed his head, gritting his teeth against the burning in his eyes. The onslaught of his emotions raged in the confines of his mind, scratching and biting at his barely held together resolve. Why was this happening?

No, this wasn’t about him, this was about Tony, and he wasn’t going to let his arrogance invade now, not today. Clearing his throat, he refused to allow himself to feel anything else but this cheerful façade he’d constructed for the day.

Tony was sat in his armchair among the artifacts, talking to the Cloak about something inane. The Cloak’s collar twitched up, indicating it had realized Stephen was nearby, but it didn’t move from beside Tony, still giving him its full attention.

He was having a good day, which was why he’d suggested to Stephen they do this. A simple date, just the two of them. Stephen allowed himself to watch Tony for a moment, just listening to the sound of his voice and not the meaning of his words.

There were things he took for granted in his life, things that were constant, never faltering, his reality built upon them. Perched in his chair and talking to the Cloak, that was a fundamental part of Stephen’s life, not just a person he spent time with. He was as integral to Stephen as the air he breathed, the halls he walked down, the tea he drank.

There wasn’t a Stephen Strange without Tony Stark.

He couldn’t fathom a reality where Tony wasn’t in it.

Who else could he call douchebag and mean it as a form of endearment? Who would understand behind the snark and the sarcasm was genuine concern when Stephen spoke? No one else spoke the language they used with each other, their lexicon developed from their love and time spent together.

Shoving the feelings down, he ignored them, imagining stamping them into submission. He wasn’t going to do this now, not now, later, he would break later, now he would be there for Tony, give him the day he wanted.

‘Afternoon sweetheart, sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but Wong would just not shut up about some trivial illness he thinks he has now,’ Stephen said as he strode over to Tony, offering him the flowers.

‘I thought it was common knowledge that if you have a friend who used to be a doctor, you’re supposed to ask them to look at everything,’ Tony answered, leaning up to accept Stephen’s kiss.

‘I brought you some lilies-’

‘Hot rod red, just the way I like them!’ Tony burst out, reaching with grabby hands. Making sure his touch was delicate, Stephen helped guide his hands to the bouquet, ignoring how skeletal they were, the paper thinness of skin and how he could see the spiderweb of indigo veins beneath.

One of the strongest men in the universe, Earth’s defender was now reduced to this.

‘Peter told me they symbolize passion and romantic love, but I looked it up and they can also symbolize hard work.’

‘You trying to imply I’m not working hard enough or something, asshole?’ Tony mock growled, inhaling the scent of the flowers.

This was one of life’s crueler twists of fate, a final screw you to Stephen.

You still think there will be no consequences, Strange? No price to pay? We broke our rules. Just like her. The bill comes due. Always! The words ricocheted around his brain, plastering themselves over and over inside his skull, branding themselves on the back of Stephen’s eyelids, motes of red against the darkness.

He’d thought by saving Tony when he defeated Thanos he’d been doing the right thing. He’d forced his magic to comply, warping the very fabric of space and time to save Tony, to heal his charred body, his damaged brain. At the time he told himself that he was doing it not because he himself had fallen for the man in the millions of lifetimes he’d glimpsed of Tony, but because of Pepper and Morgan, the family he deserved to have.

Stephen had tried to stay away from Tony after that, hadn’t wanted to destroy a happy family, but Tony had been drawn to him, just as he had been to Tony. His relationship with Pepper had come to an end, an amicable end, there was too much love and memories between them for it not to be. Even then, Stephen had waited months, held Tony at arm’s length to make sure he was ready for this relationship.

Months they could’ve had together.

As a doctor, he knew what Tony’s diagnosis meant, knew that no matter what miracles the hospital performed that this was always going to be terminal. He wanted to fix this, dear God how he wanted to fix it. He didn’t want Morgan growing up without a father, didn’t…couldn’t imagine life without Tony, how he was meant to go on without him.

This had been the price of his arrogance. He had saved Tony’s life by breaking the natural law, and this was how it had demanded payment.

He brought Tony’s hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss against the delicate skin.

Love stories were not always about the everlasting love, the stretching of years before you. Sometimes it was as short as finding the right person and not having enough time.

‘I know, Stephen, I feel it too,’ Tony said, leaning his forehead against Stephen’s. ‘You promised me one day. One day without treatments, hospital appointments, being prodded.’

‘I did, and I meant it, sweetheart. What did you have in mind? We’ll do anything you want to do. I could portal us to the beach? Or another country?’ Stephen asked, offering his arm to help Tony up, and passing the flowers over to the Cloak.

‘Let’s go for a walk in Central Park, take an aimless meander,’ Tony told him.

‘An aimless meander? Since when don’t you have a plan in mind? A thousand different things that you want to do?’ Stephen teased as they walked down the Sanctum stairs, the Cloak waiting at the bottom for them both, attaching itself to Tony’s shoulders to help carry some of his weight.

‘Maybe I just want to spend time with you without any of life’s complications getting in the way,’ Tony countered.

Opening the front door for him, Stephen bowed at his waist, extending his hand in an exaggerated gesture. ‘Your wish is my command, douchebag.’ He hesitated for a moment, looking at the sky, the brilliance of the blue, the cotton candy spun clouds.

A perfect day for meandering.

[saikagerights]

Lay Me Down to Rest - Entry for Day of MirSan 2021

Hello there! And welcome to my first Inuyasha fanfiction, as apart of the @dayofmirsan event. 

I initially was planning to be an observer of the event, but sudden inspiration struck at 1am during my nightly routine of falling asleep to Inuyasha. Rewatching the Monkey Sprite episode is interesting for many reasons. For one, there was an unhealthy amount of filler added into the anime adaptation of this story-line, which gave hit-or-miss comedy. But the most important thing is that Miroku and Sango are mostly unaccounted for in this story-line, which gives shippers like me an opportunity to write some “off-screen development” for them. And though the anime does give us an idea, I’m afraid that Miroku’s indifference and frustrated edge in the scene feels a bit off, so I decided to add a bit of a bit of context. Consider this a bit of a fusion between the anime in manga, though the scene is based off of the anime. Also I was very liberal with my use of English/Japanese dub terminology. I watched the anime in English, but switched over to the manga to replace the Final Act, so it’s a bit inconsistent. 

I’ve been observing this fandom from afar ever since I started getting into Inuyasha back in December, and though I wanted to try and engage with it, it seemed very daunting given this fandom’s age and organization. But I’m very grateful that I was given the chance to participate in this event, and lucky that inspiration struck me at the right time. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing the works that come out of this event, and I hope you enjoy my contribution. 

And thanks for the mods for allowing me to share my work with you fellow fans

InuYasha and it’s properties are owned by creator Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise 

Read on AO3

Sango tailed the monk as he led their investigation. The villagers they had asked so far had no knowledge of the wicked demon, only of the pestering monkeys that were ravaging their fields. Her companion simply nodded, thanking them for their time and promising that the Inugami would save their village. They soon found themselves at the outskirts of the village on an empty patch of land outside the forest, save for one tall tree. Sango found his behavior during their search to be strange, especially as he now paused at the tree, leaving his Shakujo leaning against its trunk.

Was he just as stumped as she was? Would this reprieve be a chance for them to rethink their approach? 

“Why have we stopped here, Miroku?” She questioned. “Aren’t we supposed to search for Naraku’s whereabouts?”

Her befuddlement heightened as he laid his body to rest in the grass underneath the shade of the tree with a sigh, both hands pillowing his head. His intentions then became clear at the sight of his eyelids slipping shut.

“How might we do that when we have neither Inuyasha’s nose or Kagome’s detection?” His tone reflected his relaxed poise. “I merely said that so that Inuyasha would be more inclined to help those villagers.”

Her head tilted downward towards the monk’s resting face. “I understand wanting to help, but do you honestly think that Inuyasha dealing with those monkeys will get us any closer to finding him?

“Not particularly.” He punctuated the off-handed remark with a yawn, overstating his disinterest. “But enough of that... Why don’t you join me here?”

She stood awestruck at his bold request. He lays there while their friends were helping this poor village and now he asks her to do the same? If Inuyahsa were to find out, he’d surely have more pressing things to worry about than the food security of the village. 

“I don’t think it would be wise, considering your flippant lies.”

The man remained still, no sign of concern disrupting his posture. 

“If you changed back into your battle attire before our return, they’d never suspect a thing.” He ignored her statement, a peaceful smile casually appearing on his face. She instantly recognized this move. He was fully convinced he would get his way, the sleazy crook. “Besides, I’m sure sleep has been as kind to you as it has been to me as of late.”

Although it was usually hard to detect amongst his manner of speaking, the monk’s sarcasm was not missed by the slayer. She knew very well that Naraku’s sudden disappearance had their whole group on edge, including herself. And while sleep had become its own battle, the desperate investigations of their enemy have left her distracted from everything else. Sleep meant the rest needed to fight again, but it also meant time alone with one’s most intimate thoughts. What always plagued her mind nowadays were things she’d rather not willingly engage. Finding Naraku should be her biggest concern now, but she indulged her companion despite what she would consider was her better judgement.

The monk had a particular talent for steering her away from rationality.

“Knowing your pervy ways, I’m sure you’d try and sneak a peek at me”

The monk could’ve never noticed the sneer on her face behind his still-closed eyes. The same smile was plastered on his face as well, despite her accusation. He really did enjoy giving her grief, didn’t he...

“Trust me, my dear. I have no intention of moving from this spot for a while. Or at least until Inuyasha comes for my head.”

 “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I left Kilala here to guard this spot until I returned.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’d love to watch me lie here, right Kilala?”  

Sango looked to the nekomata, who merely chuffed in response. She was wary of Kilala’s strange trust in the monk at times, but she was sure that the demon would keep an eye on him in case he tried something funny. 

Miroku took this as the perfect time to reveal his indigo eyes to her. 

 “Please, my intentions are more honorable than what they seem, believe me.”

There it was, that gentle voice of his used to convince her of his authenticity. The same breathy tones that sent her heart racing and her stomach in somersaults. She knew Miroku was confident in his charms, but she also liked to think that he was fully aware of this game they played. She only came to grips with it recently, but there was something going on. 

They’d fight, they’d talk it through, and just when she thought he would try to make a move, that damn hand of his would find the wrong place to caress. Or it would be when she found herself grieving once more, and he could comfort her with his words alone. How did he always know what to say that made everything clear and could heal every fiber of her being, but also had a hand that never failed to do the exact opposite? He was a truly frustrating man, but he was the only one she ever considered more than just that. 

But did he really know? That was a puzzle Sango couldn’t solve. It wasn’t as if anything meaningful resulted from these escapades. Afterwards, they would act as if nothing happened, and he would return to his typical flirtatious ways with any woman that entered his line of sight. So Sango liked to think that Miroku fully knew that he was toying with her feelings. That way it made it easier to lower her expectations and resent them despite Kagome’s not-so-subtle prodding. 

When she became abruptly aware that her eyes had been locked on him for too long, she made her hasty retreat, hoping he didn’t catch her bright red flush in the shade of the tree. 

“This man will be the death of me,” she softly cursed herself as soon as she knew she left his earshot. 

_______________________________________________________________

Upon her return to their little “spot,” she was greeted by an alert Miroku. His body was now fully upright and turned towards her approaching form. 

“You’ve accepted my invitation, I see”

“I thought you were trying to sleep”

“I still am, but I’d figured it would help if I got a quick glimpse of your beauty before-hand.”

She rolled her eyes at his shameless attempt. “You really are troublesome, you know that?”

“You wound me, dear Sango!” He unceremoniously flopped back into his previous position, his left hand patting the spot next to him. “You are free to lie beside me if you wish.” 

Without the need for consideration, she silently opted to sit against Kilala’s curled form, stretching her legs in front of her. He managed to convince her to relax alongside him, but she had no intention of allowing herself to get too comfortable around him in the likely case the monk’s wandering hands wandered once more. He sighed audibly at her decision, but allowed his eyes to close again without any further word. He could act like a child all he wanted, but she would not budge. 

She watched the man for a while, observing his state of rest. She could tell as much that he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet by all of his idle noises and the way he kept trying to steal a glance in her direction. 

“Can’t sleep?”

She hadn’t even tried to close her eyes just yet, as she was still trying to grasp their current situation. Why was he so insistent on sleeping if he was just going to try and stare at her the entire afternoon? Why did he lie to Inuyasha in the first place if this was how they would spend their time? With all these questions moving around in her head, she might as well ask for the most basic of them.

“Miroku? Why do you lie and steal as casually as you do? I always thought that monks were pure-hearted.”

“What a wonderful question!” He exclaimed. With such enthusiasm, she was almost afraid of the answer she would soon receive from him. “I’ve been traveling on my own for so long, and it’s quite difficult to acquire wealth in such unfortunate times. I wish to give aid to those in need, but I also believe that it never hurts to help yourself as well.” He settled for an even tone and let his eyes slip open once more. 

 “And you are right, It is true that holy-people such as myself are meant to be free of sin. But,  I was born tainted by the hole that resides in my hand.” His voice tapered off at his pause, the newfound silence growing thick with each passing moment. His sound returned to him, soft and low, as if it were only meant for his ears alone. 

“It doesn’t matter how much I devote myself to my faith to any idol or deity. My curse is hell-bent on deciding my fate....”

But we are trying to stop Naraku! To free you from the Kazaana. You can always change your path after that! She immediately contested, perhaps a little too loudly, but she didn’t care. How dare he speak so little of himself and avoid her gaze as he did it?! She refused to accept his belittling statements. 

“It is very hard for me to see a future for myself at this time, I’m afraid…” He brought his head up to look at her. A flash of fear ran through his eyes before he looked down once more. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t speak like that.”

He’s afraid…

And he had every right to be. 

“Please don’t apologize.”

He never showed it in front of their group, but behind that calm and smooth exterior remained a man trembling under the weight of his own mortality. He was a man after all, and men were never to show what made them most vulnerable. But with how much he gives to help others, it feels unfair for him to just allow himself to suffer inside as he did.

 If they understood each other as well as he liked to claim, then she knew he hated the restless feeling they had knowing nothing of where their wicked nemesis resided, surely plotting something to exploit the fears he caused within their hearts. Knowing that her poor brother remained in that demon’s grasp sickened her to her core, and sitting around with no leads made it hard to lay dormant as they did now. 

“I get it. I am just as frustrated as you… About Kohaku-”

“-You don’t need to go any further” He  interrupted her thoughts, I didn’t mean to remind you of your pain like that.”

 “Miroku-” 

 “-Please,” he sharply cut in once more, hoarseness settling into his throat. He must’ve noticed it as well, as he cleared his throat soon after. “let’s just try to find rest while we still can.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to force unconsciousness upon himself. Sango relented, trying to relax her body, idly stroking Kilala as she watched the man slowly succumb to rest. It was surreal to see him struggle like this when it seemed like meditation was second nature to him. She decided on trying for sleep once his breathing evened out and all the remaining tension left his face. 

________________________________________________________________

Miroku wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he could tell from the shadows before him had grown considerably when his eyes peered open. He turned his head to see Sango now curled up against Kilala, her face all but buried in her demon companion’s fur. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly stretching as he made an intake of his surroundings. It looked as if the sun would soon begin it’s retreat from the sky. The monk knew the rest was necessary, but he definitely didn’t look forward to another predictively sleepless night. 

One more glance at Sango’s sleeping form was enough to convince him to approach her, neglecting his Shakujo to silence his movements. He knew, probably better than anybody, of the threat imposed by the slayer’s attuned senses. He also knew the danger of being caught if she awoke to his gawking. Unfortunately it was a risk he was willing for one small fleeting moment to stare at her.

What an idiot he had been for making her sympathize with his life. Even worse that it reminded her of her own grief. He was happy to indulge her curiosity, but when he looked up at her, he turned cowardly at what he saw. It wasn’t fear, or sadness over his grim fate. It was the very same fire that lit behind her eyes in battle. 

She was prepared to fight for him, it seemed…

He dare not think that she would go any farther for that. He was not worth her death. In fact, nothing was worth her death. The honor of her clan was at stake, and her life was essential in carrying on their legacy. One measly itinerant monk with a fated death should be worthless in her eyes, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her alive.

Even if he wanted more than anything to see a future with her.

He turned away from her, returning to his spot in a now seated position. The monk had half a mind to wake the woman, but decided against it. Every waking moment for her was its own battle, after all. She needed all the rest she could get. And he’d gladly wait for her until that battle resumed, and fight with her at every step.

And if dying for her now meant he could spend the next life by her side, then he would welcome death with open arms. 

“I hope this woman is the death of me,” he softly wished before all else melted away to his own meditation.

______________________________________________________________

Yeah I realized I took some liberties here with how Miroku and Sango’s relationship was at this point. This episode takes place after the Temptress of the Mist and Demon-Head castle, but far behind Mt. Hakurei, so what was going on with them hadn’t really become a “pattern” just yet. And Miroku had just comforted her in her grieving state for the first time right before that. Sango wasn’t deep enough to say he was her reason for living, so that’s why I kept her on the fence and didn’t have her feel too disappointed, because that’s what came after Mt Hakurei. 

I’m a sucker for long winded perspective changes, especially here with all the parallels I draw between them. Some of my best lines were written here, especially the ending line. My GOD. I swear, I wrote that and everything made sense. I said “yes” over and over again, it was so good.

Also can you tell whose voice I’m talking about when describing Miroku’s? The answer is Koji Tsujitani. I always knew about Tsujitani’s delivery that makes Miroku sound truly “fake” but I noticed rather recently how he would add so much breath, especially in serious scenes. On the other hand, Kirby Morrow played the character down and deep in his throat, which isn’t bad when talking about his overall performance, but I decided to favor Tsujitani’s performance in this instance. 

(I’m a classically trained singer and a music education major, so I’m a nut for analyzing voice acting. I have respect for both of these men may they rest in peace.)

Thanks again for the opportunity, and I hope to write more for this series. 

-Saikage

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 13: The Apothecary

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,943

Chapter Summary: Teki and her mother run into an old friend in town.

A/N:  Words cannot express how long I’ve waited for this chapter.

Thanks for reading!

TW: Mentions of child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

Teki followed her mother through the disorderly streets of town, head down and trying to act as if she wasn’t sulking.

She was.

She had just been readying to meet Loki in their spot by the lake that morning when her mother announced that she would be taking her to meet with a new dressmaker in town.

“What’s wrong with the palace dressmaker?” Teki asked, in a voice that was probably too close to a whine. Her mother glared at her.

“Nothing is wrong, of course. But you need a change, and I’ve heard wonderful things about this man.” She clapped her hands together. “We’re leaving in a few moments. Brush your hair.”

They walked down the main road, past market stalls and men on horseback and children weaving in and out through the streets as they chased each other. One little boy nearly ran into her mother, skidding to a halt before he could collide with her indigo skirts. He nodded quickly, laughing a short “apologies, my lady!” before he rushed off to join his friends.

Her mother scowled. “Can no one control their children?” she muttered, watching the crowd bound down the avenue. “It’s the same mess every time I come.”

Teki bit her lip. If you hate it so much, why are we even bothering? Hopefully, Loki didn’t wait for her long. When she didn’t show up, he probably would’ve gone to check her apartment, and then Brant could’ve told him where she’d gone. She swallowed a frustrated sigh.

Along the side of the road, a familiar clanging broke through the chaos. Asta the Apothecary pulled her cart forward, ringing her bell as she greeted those who passed her.

“Can I interest you in a healing draught? Something to help you sleep? Or perhaps you’re looking for love?” The old woman smiled, completely unbothered by the lack of response she was receiving. It was strange—she had frightened Teki the first time she had saw her, back when she and Loki had come to visit Völundr, but now Teki found herself admiring the woman’s assurance. She wished she could walk through life with as much certainty in her step.

When she passed by Teki and her mother, Asta’s smile only grew. “Lady Áslaug!” she cried. “May I interest you?”

What?

Teki’s mother stiffened. Grabbing her daughter’s arm, she doubled her pace to an even brisker walk, dragging Teki along with her. Teki stumbled over the dirt road as she attempted to keep up, head spinning. Asta only continued on her way as if nothing happened.

“How did she know you?” Teki whispered. “How did she know your name?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” her mother snapped. “But Norns help me if I waste my time on every decrepit creature who speaks to me.” Her fingers dug into Teki’s arm, so much it hurt, but Teki didn’t dare to pull away. She couldn’t remember a time when her mother seemed so quietly dangerous. Discretely, she risked a glance back at the apothecary as her bell and clattering cart faded away into the rest of the hubbub. Asta had moved on, but her simple greeting still lingered. It hadn’t been a polite “hello” between strangers—that exchange had reeked with familiarity. Beside her, her mother remained tight-lipped and fuming.

How do you two now each other, Teki wondered, turning away from Asta’s retreating form, and why is my mother lying about it?

…

The dressmaker’s shop was little more than a room, a modest little place squashed between a bookseller’s shop and the bakery. From the way her mother had talked about it, Teki had assumed that some kind of arrangements had previously been made for an appointment, but the elderly little man who welcomed them in was surprised (and completely delighted) to learn who they were. He introduced himself as Ulrik and was quick to call his assistant up from the back, babbling on about how honored he’d be to design a garment for her.

“It’s not every day we have the patronage of royalty,” he gushed, pulling Teki onto the little podium for measurements. “I’m honored, truly honored—”

“Um—” Teki squirmed as he wrapped the measuring tape around her waist. “I’m not royalty—”

“Oh, apologies, my apologies!” Ulrik was nearly breathless as he called out her waist size to the assistant, a blonde girl who could only have been a few years older than Teki. He knelt to take her height, continuing to fumble with the tape. “But you are to be, yes?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glancing anxiously at her mother. Lady Áslaug stood in the back, looking on with a crinkled nose, the perfect portrait of noble disdain. Teki swallowed. Somehow, she managed a nod.

The girl taking notes perked up. “What’s Prince Thor like? Is he as gallant as he is handsome?”

“Um—” After the previous night, it was difficult for Teki to categorize her fiancé as either gallant or handsome. As Loki promised, the Crown Prince had come to her for a dance before the end of the night, but only after excessive celebration and an inordinate amount of alcohol. By the time he approached her with an outstretched hand, he was swaying on his feet and seemed to have forgotten his own strength. Teki spent a miserable three dances being jerked across the floor like a rag doll before he had enough and returned to his friends for another drink. Her head ached at the memory.

Still, the blond girl prattled on, oblivious to Teki’s discomfort. “Watching him in the Games was simply magical! Such strength—he makes everything seem effortless, doesn’t he? And he’s barely a year older than me!” she sighed, holding her notepad to her chest. “You’re so lucky, my lady.”

That’s a word for it.

It went on forever: the measuring, the conceptualizing, the choosing of a fabric—that went on for longer than forever, as her mother was scandalized to learn that they didn’t have access to the exact shade of crimson to match Thor’s cape.

“Many, many apologies, my lady!” Ulrik repeated obsequiously, holding his hands up to appease her anger. “But my business is very humble, and we have not the funds—”

“Funds!” snapped her mother. “Are we not paying you enough?”

As Ulrik attempted to explain that someone of his status didn’t have access to some of the dyes she was describing, Teki turned to the window in frustration. None of this would have been a problem if her mother hadn’t insisted upon visiting a new dressmaker—the palace seamstresses never had an issue with obtaining dyes or fabrics. Once again, Teki found herself wondering what they were doing here.

They had been there so long, she realized with a sardonic chuckle, that Asta was already making her way up the opposite side of the street. The old woman had stopped her cart just across from the dressmaker’s window and was conversing with a young girl in servant’s garb. She unlocked the glass cabinet holding her precious potions, picking out a corked vial so small Teki could barely see from where she sat.

Delicately, Asta clutched it between her forefinger and her thumb, gently sloshing the liquid around as she held it out to the girl. The girl nodded, turning to dig through the pack at her hip.

Teki frowned. She had seen that before. That motion, the way she grasped the vial—there was some memory attached to that, dancing just beyond the reach of her mind. The voices of her mother and Ulrik seemed to fade away. Teki pressed her face to the window.

The girl had found what she was looking for—six silver coins, which sparkled in the summer sun as she counted them out. Asta counted them out again when she took them in her hand, smiling her crooked smile. She handed the vial to the servant girl.

Vial.

Vials.

Two small glass vials, one empty, one sealed and filled with a deep burgundy liquid, both locked away with the memories of a man long disappeared...

“Your father wasn’t a potion maker, was he?”

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Teki whipped around to her mother. She was facing away from her, still locked in embittered debate with the dressmaker. She glanced out the window again. The servant girl had left, and Asta was making to leave as well, closing the cabinet and readying her bell.

No, wait!

She turned one last time at the others in the room, all too wrapped up in their discussion to focus on the subject in which they were discussing. Teki slipped out the door.

“Excuse me!” She scrambled across the dirt road, dodging horse-drawn carriages and irascible pedestrians in a mad dash to reach the apothecary before she had gone too far.

One driver cursed when she ran too close to his horse. “Watch where you’re going, girl!”

“Sorry,” she murmured, far too quietly for it to count as a legitimate apology. Asta turned around completely unaffected, waiting for her on the side of the street.

“Good afternoon, sweetling,” she smiled, when Teki finally made it to her in a panting mess. The wrinkles in her face deepened. “What can I offer you today?”

“I—” She hadn’t thought this through. “Well—what do you have?” she asked, rather lamely.

The apothecary gave a throaty laugh. “If you need it, old Asta’s got it.” She motioned to the cabinet, where vials upon vials of multicolored liquids glowered down at her indecision. Teki scanned them, but her cursory glance yielded not a single flash of burgundy. The weight of the old woman’s expectant gaze held her captive as she helplessly vacillated before the cart.

Do something, you fool!

Teki motioned towards a horde of bottles, a sparkling red too bright to be the liquid she found in her mother’s lockbox. “What are those?”

“Why, those are my moneymakers!” Asta chuckled at Teki’s look of confusion. “They’re potions of love, sweetling. Incredibly popular, both amongst the masses and the gentry.” She reached into the cabinet to stroke the glass vials like one would stroke a cat. “I suppose status doesn’t affect one’s desire to be desired,” she mused before turning back to Teki rather abruptly. “But you have no need for such tricks, do you?”

There was a knowing sparkle in her eye, which only confused Teki more. “Why—why do you say that?”

“With the way that the little prince was looking at you? That’s purer than anything that can be cooked up in a bottle.” When Teki only gaped, Asta’s smile widened. “Has he not made his feelings known? Perhaps what you need is a potion of truth.”

Loki? How would she know they were even friends, let alone possibly something more? Sure, she had seen them together when they came to visit Völundr a few weeks ago, but that interaction couldn’t have lasted more than a minute! She would have had hardly enough time to get a good look at Teki’s features, let alone evaluate the nature of her relationship with the prince.

“I—you remember me?” Teki stuttered. “From when Loki and I were here?”

“Of course.” The apothecary seemed almost amused by this examination. “I never forget a face, not once I’ve met them.”

Teki swallowed. This seemed to be the perfect opening to the question she wanted to ask, but she was almost afraid to take it. “You knew my mother,” she said finally. “When did you meet her?”

“Ah.” Asta hummed in realization, leaning against her wooden cart. “‘Tis not potions for which you seek, is it?” Teki shook her head with a slow jerk. The old woman sighed. “The Lady Áslaug sought me out many years ago. You would’ve been quite young.”

Teki inhaled. “What did she buy?”

“Why so curious, young lady? Is this not something you can ask her yourself?” There was something in her voice that told her Asta knew precisely why Teki was so curious, and why she couldn’t ask her mother herself. Teki picked at the sash of her dress, searching for the right words. Once she found them, they came out it a jumble.

“I found two vials hidden in her things. Your vials. One was empty, one was full and still sealed.” She scanned Asta’s features for any sign of a reaction. The apothecary only raised an eyebrow.

“Still sealed, you say? And pray, what was the color?”

Teki didn’t blink. “Burgundy.”

“Ah.” Now it was the apothecary’s turn to search for words. They stood there in silence for a long moment, Teki dangling at uncertainty’s edge on Asta’s rope. “I remember what I sold her,” she said at last. “And I will tell you, happily. But a part of me wonders if you truly wish to know.”

No, she probably didn’t. In the past few weeks, she had learned many things about her family that a part of her wished she had never known. But the truth had slept on for far too long. It was time for her to stop running and wake it up. Teki nodded.

Asta sighed. “Very well.” Without skipping a beat, her voice hardened, morphing from quiet reflection to emotionless recollection. “She asked for a poison. Odorless, tasteless, fast acting. She knew what she wanted. I sold her a vial of embers of frost, enough to kill a grown man in half an hour, and a vial of the antidote.”

Teki stared. The apothecary’s words didn’t seem to register. She should’ve been feeling something—denial, fear, rage, something—but it was as if she had fallen into a freezing mountain lake, so cold she couldn’t even tell what was hurting her anymore.

“The antidote…” she breathed the question even though she already knew the answer. “It was burgundy, wasn’t it?”

“Aye.”

The poison empty and gone. The antidote immaculate and untouched. Both left to rot alongside the journal she should not have had, in a box that should not have existed. Her father lost within the week.

It didn’t mean … it couldn’t mean—

“Wh—what—why did she want it?” There was a buzzing noise in Teki’s ears. There’s no way in Hel he left you of his own accord. But it couldn’t be what it looked like. It couldn’t be­—

“I didn’t ask, my lady,” Asta said. There was a sort of pity in her eyes as she gazed at Teki. “I only sell means to swindle. I never ask who it is they wish to swindle.”

“Swindle?” Teki asked weakly.

“Everyone wants to swindle something. Swindle love, swindle health, swindle truth.” She patted the side of the cart. “Your mother merely sought a way to swindle life.”

Swindled life. Swindled marriage. Swindled daughter. Swindled engagement.

“Tekla!” Her mother’s voice rang out across the road, frantic and fuming. Teki turned just in time to see her seething glare before she nearly yanked her arm out of its socket, dragging her off before Teki had even the slightest chance to respond.

They were halfway back to the palace before they finally stopped, her mother pulling her into an alleyway to shake her shoulders. “What were you doing talking to her?” she demanded. “What was she telling you?”

“She—” Teki blinked, praying for any tell-tale tears to evaporate. “She wanted to sell me a love potion.”

Her mother studied her with an icy stare. Teki was frozen, afraid to move.

“Come,” she finally said, turning back towards the road. “We’re going home.”

Áslaug offered no information on the new dress as they passed through the palace gates, and Teki didn’t ask. She had to talk to Loki. She had to figure out what to do next.

Brant and Osvald were out when they returned to their apartment. Her mother told her to go to her room—not in an angry way, necessarily, but with a tone that offered no room to argue. That was all right. Teki waited for the lock on her bedroom door to click before rushing to unlatch the window.

She wasted no time in the gardens, sprinting to the back entrance of the palace and slipping through shortcuts until she reached the royal wing. Teki was hardly a stranger to this end of the building, what with all of her piano-playing in Frigga’s apartment, but she had never visited Loki’s quarters before. If anyone saw her, it probably would make a perfect addition to the ever-growing list of scandalous occurrences between her and the younger prince that the court gossips held in their back pocket, but Teki rapped on the door without a care. She needed to talk to Loki. She needed to see him, needed him to tell her that they were going to figure it all out and that everything would be fine. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought.

Which is why she blanched when it was Frigga’s melancholy smile that opened the door instead.

“Oh, Your Majesty, forgive me!” Teki stumbled. She tried to glance over her shoulder for a sign of the prince, but the room behind her seemed deserted. “I—I was looking for Lo—Prince Loki.”

The Queen sighed. There was a sadness in her gaze—no, not sadness. Pity. “I’m afraid you won’t find Prince Loki here, darling.”

Teki’s heart dropped. “What?”

“His father has sent him to continue his studies on Vanaheim for two years. He left this morning.”

“He’s—what?” No, she had to be mishearing, misunderstanding, misconstruing—Loki couldn’t be—

Frigga shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tekla. He’s gone.”

[ohayohimawari]

And That’s How it Happened

A drabble for Day 6 of @kakaobiweek Indigo | Reunited | Enemies to Lovers

It’s another round of crack humor and fluff appropriate for all audiences, and I hope that you enjoy it!

And That’s How it Happened

Sakura had flashbacks from her childhood days spent waiting on her teammates while she stood at the designated meeting place doing just that.

She folded her arms across her chest and laughed lightly through her nose at the fact that years, atonement, and even saving the world couldn’t prevent a bubble of excitement at the prospect of Team Seven meeting in secret without their old sensei and current Hokage.

“Hey, is Sasuke here yet?” Naruto yawned when he arrived.

An exasperated scoff erupted from Sakura, and she cast a sarcastic look at Naruto. “How about a ‘good morning, Sakura; how are you?’”

“Good morning, Sakura; how are you?” Naruto parroted in a confused and toneless voice, so of course, Sakura punched him.

“So, you got a letter from Sasuke too?” Naruto rubbed a blossoming bruise on his swollen cheek.

“Duh, that’s why I’m here, idiot,” Sakura applied healing chakra to her knuckles, “what did yours say?”

“Not much,” Naruto shrugged. “It only said to meet him here and not to bring Kakashi-sensei.”

“Oh,” Sakura blushed a little when she learned that her letter from Sasuke included an additional invitation that wasn’t extended to Naruto.

“Whaddya think this is about?”

“No idea—AAAAAHHH!” Sakura shrieked when Sasuke suddenly appeared out of thin air.

And he wasn’t alone.

At his feet on the ground was a hog-tied Obito Uchiha. Sasuke reached down to remove the cloth gag in his captive’s mouth, “I found him while I was exploring the Sharingan dimensions, and he says he wants to come back to Konoha.”

“You got lost!” Obito spat out the moment he could speak. “And you wouldn’t have made it back if I hadn’t helped you—mmffng,” Sasuke stuffed the gag back into Obito’s mouth.

“Not dying is, like, your super-power, sheesh,” Naruto said after a few snickers at Sasuke’s expense.

“You’re one to talk,” Sakura deadpanned as she reached down to remove Obito’s gag.

“What should we do with him?” Sasuke asked the hive mind of his team.

“You could untie me for starters,” Obito suggested.

“No.” The members of Team Seven replied in unison.

“You tried to destroy the world,” Sasuke elaborated.

“Well, so did you, kinda,” Naruto pointed out.

“You hurt Kaka-sensei,” Sakura accused Obito of the crime she and her teammates considered the worst of his offenses.

Obito didn’t argue that point, clearly accepting that he was guilty of it.

“He also saved Kakashi-sensei, though,” Naruto mused.

“Twice, actually,” Obito corrected.

“Kakashi stood at your grave, for hours every day, for years,” Sasuke chimed in. “You made him live with that pain when you could’ve ended it at any time.”

“And now he’s back to standing in front of your grave, and here you are, still not dead,” Naruto added.

“This time, I did come back,” Obito defended. “I didn’t know where I was, I… I thought I was in some sort of purgatory. Then this guy shows up,” he nodded at Sasuke, “and I realized that we must’ve been in one of the Sharingan dimensions, like when you were with me, Sakura.”

Sakura nodded that she understood, so Obito continued. “It took both of our Sharingan eyes to get out, and you think I don’t know what’s waiting for me? I know that I’m worse than scum.”

That phrase triggered something within all three members of Team Seven, pulling at their hearts, reminding them of what was most important in their ninja world.

“You could’ve left me behind, but you didn’t,” Sasuke said.

“You made sure Kaka-sensei would make it back here alive, even if it meant you would die,” Sakura recalled.

“It was your words that Kakashi-sensei repeated to us,” Naruto smiled. “All those lessons on teamwork, it was all because of you.”

“Honestly, I never thought I’d leave such an impression on him,” Obito confessed, “you have no idea what he was like as a kid.”

This triggered an altogether different feeling within the hearts of the members of Team Seven.

“Wait-so, have you seen his face?” Naruto asked, and Sakura’s bright green eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Untie me, and I’ll tell you.”

Both Naruto and Sakura lunged forward to undo Obito’s bonds, but Sasuke stepped between them, stopping them, even though they knew he had to be just as curious as they were.

“Oh, come on,” Obito protested. “We all know that Lady Fifth is going to throw me in prison the moment I get to Konoha. At least let me have the dignity to walk in as a free man that’s turning himself in.”

“Actually, Lady Tsunade isn’t the Hokage anymore,” Sakura smirked.

“Kakashi is the Sixth Hokage,” Sasuke informed Obito.

“It should be me,” Naruto muttered.

“Is he really?” Obito asked in a quieter voice. “Wow. Imagine that, Rin. He kept his promise,” he finished with shining eyes and a heartbreakingly tender smile that sealed his fate.

Within minutes, the members of Team Seven knocked on the door to the Hokage’s office.

“Come in,” the tired voice of their former sensei beckoned.

The three stood in front of his desk wearing smug, self-satisfied expressions, waiting for the Rokudaime to look up from his paperwork and notice it. They knew when he did because his eyes widened, and he checked the exits, preparing himself for the kinds of surprise attacks they launched at him when they were children.

“You dropped this,” Sasuke said. Then, he and Naruto each stepped to the side, clearing a path for Sakura to step forward and heave Obito onto Kakashi’s desk. He was still hog-tied, but they’d added a big, purple bow and a gift tag that read, For Sensei <3

This didn’t improve Obito’s appearance or his mood, but he resigned himself to his fate with the gag back in his mouth and looking like he’d really, really rather be dead.

Kakashi’s eyes grew impossibly larger, and he looked up from his unexpected gift just in time to see his former students' backs as they exited his office.

“Don’t worry, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto waved behind him, “he promises to behave this time.”

[whereflowersbloom]

Changes.

It’s a rare Saturday afternoon off. Conner is sprawled across the sofa, his head resting on a fluffy cushion. Raven sitting next to him, wearing comfortable summer clothes, leaving her legs bare. Conner was watching the movie with half-closed eyes. He’s unusually exhausted. But everyone was out. They’ve been working around the clock, non-stop for weeks, busy with missions. It’s the first time they’ve managed to arrange their time off in a long time. He wanted to make the most of it, but Raven didn’t want to go out today. It’s a lazy day, spending it in the Tower’s living room. Watching old movies, Raven recommended and insisted he must watch them. Classics. ‘Gone with the wind, The wizard of Oz, Casablanca’ among other tittle.

Conner tried to focus on the screen. They were halfway Casablanca, but got distracted by Raven’s hair. It looked almost magical in this light. Her dark hair, shinning like the night sky. Her hair was slowly turning a dark purple shade, almost indigo with the sunlight hitting it. Conner was quite intrigued about her hairstyle as well. He’d seen braids before, but never this intricately. She did notice Raven had changed the way she styled her hair lately. He secretly wanted to ask what made her change it. He liked it nonetheless. Whether she let it cascade down her shoulders or in a ponytail, or this elaborated braid. She looked dazzlingly beautiful to him, all the time.

Raven felt Conner’s eyes on her. She was intrigued why he was so absorbed watching her? Was there something on her face? She’d only eaten popcorn like him, and he was clean, well groomed like always. Impeccable she’d rather admit. She couldn’t ignore his long, unblinking stare any longer. She was about to ask him if everything was okay when he unexpectedly broke the silence.

“How do you braid hair?”He asked all of a sudden, rubbing his neck, when he saw Raven’s baffled look. Tilting her head to one side, blinking several times, processing why he was so interested in her hair now.

That was not what she had expected. She consciously touched her French braid. It wasn’t her usual hairstyle, she felt heat burn her cheeks. Donna had been watching recently videos about hairstyles. She became seemingly so engrossed in trying new hairstyles, specially braids on her dark hair now that it was long enough, and growing even longer, down to her lower shoulders. The Amazonian had mentioned it would suit her. Donna being the persuasive person she was, Raven didn’t have the heart to say no. Also, she decided, perhaps it was time to try a different look. Instead of braiding just the three strands, you take hair with it as you go down. After hours and hours of practicing, Donna finally mastered it. It was different. The first time she felt strange. But she found some benefits, her hair didn’t get in the way while training or cooking. It was rather practical. Kori found it looking regal. Did Conner not like it? It was the first time he mentioned it.

She didn’t know how to explain. She had only done it a couple of times. “Uhmm, well.” she shrugged the twine from her hair and untangled the braid, slowly, with her small hands. Her midnight tresses were quite long, so it took some time. Maybe because she was so self-conscious of Conner’s curious, steady gaze. She felt her heart hammering in her chest, her breath coming in short. She was overly, awkwardly aware of his gaze on her face as the strands started to adorn her face. She gulped and wished he stopped staring, counting the heartbeats in her mind. But in the back of her mind she’d rather have him look at her with those beautiful baby blue eyes, sparkling with interest and mischief, as always, asking her to read him books, or having a long conversation about her hobbies, even video games he occasionally played with Beast Boy. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but thanks Azar it healed fairly quickly.

Conner felt heat creep in his neck, and not because of the sun, or the hot summer weather of Jump City. His stomach always did somersaults like the kids in the park, or Nightwing did while training, whenever he looked at her, his feelings flowing so freely like a river, his feelings for her deepened and strengthened with every passing day. He couldn’t decipher it, but it made him feel things he knew he shouldn’t feel for a friend. He knew he shouldn’t, wasn’t supposed to but he genuinely, wholeheartedly liked Raven. She appeared to be troubled by his question.

He cleared his throat, attempting to get back her attention. He pronounced her name quietly. “Raven.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She jumped slightly, snapping out of her trance. “You take three pieces of hair, like this” she demonstrated it and started showing Conner, imitating the way Donna did it, if she remembered correctly. “And as you are braiding, you add hair from both sides and continue. Follow my fingers.” Her breath choked as, abruptly took a strand of her hair and twirled in thoughtfully around his finger, observing it meticulously, seemingly not aware of his actions or his effect on her.

He looked up, smiled warmly at her, the way he did, resembling a child with new toy and nodded. He hesitated for a moment but muttered cheerfully. “Do you mind if I try it?”

Her violet-blue eyes widened. Conner wanted to braid her hair. The idea of his hands close to her face? Her stomach was in knots. No. That was an absolutely terrible idea or not? Calm down Raven. Nothing to worry about. It’s just hair. She has no idea why he’s so fascinated by it, but they are friends. If Donna can do it. What’s the difference? He wouldn’t just tangle up her hair as a prank. He wasn’t Garfield. No. Conner was innocent, honorable, respectful. He was different, like her she imagined sometimes. “Sure, go ahead.” His hand brushed her fingers lightly, with such softness. It sent a tingle of goosebumps up her arm. Their eyes locked, and the powerful connection, felt like being struck by lighting. Blue eyes meeting violet. Both were blushing furiously.

Raven shifted her body, so she was sitting cross legged in front of him, on the sofa, with her back towards him.

Conner took the log hair in for a moment. Admiring how soft and beautiful it was. He breathed in the essence, lavender, jasmine and peppermint. He has dreamt about how it would be to play with it, run it though his fingers. Her head in his lap, she was humming a song he never heard before. He’d absentmindedly started imitating her as well, while twirling the hair around his long fingers. He casually asked her about it. She told him it was an old song her mother used to sing to her. It brought some fond and happy memories.

“Don’t mess it up.” She teased him, giggling softly, but warning him at the same time. A boyish smile spread across his face. She confide him her precious memories. He felt special for a moment. Like he was needed, trusted with such things, he could guess not many knew about. His hands brush her hair gently, over her shoulders, unintentionally touching her delicate pale neck.

“No promises.” he said in a playful tone. He continued to play with her hair, trying to copy her fingers, when she had shown him. Braiding hair sure wasn’t easy.

His fingers caressed her cheekbone as he took a strand of hair. Raven held her breathe. What was he doing? Did he cast a spell on her or something, turning her completely speechless? She was the sorcerer here. Not him. She felt Conner edge closer.

“I’m almost done...I think.” he whispered anxiously. He didn’t need to, but it felt appropriate. The moment felt too intimate, for some reason. Something was changing between them. Perhaps because this was unusual in a way he couldn’t point. Sure, they were close friends, had normal interactions, but this felt intimate, private, almost romantic. They never touched or got close this way before. It was a new experience. Conner furrowed his eyebrows involuntarily, he started to hate that word. ‘Friends’. It didn’t cover entirely their bond. He didn’t want to be only Raven’s friend. Friends certainly, positively didn’t left you breathless and wanting more. He’d rather not talk to any of his other friends and simply kiss Raven senselessly. As he dreamed almost every night for months now.

He seriously had to stop daydreaming about her. But he found himself incapable of stopping. He did not want to, if he was honest.

Raven stretched her neck, yawning momentarily, then she looked over her shoulder. He’d suddenly stopped braiding, and instead of saying anything, she felt him staring at her again. Those blue eyes studying her again. She felt strange, the way he looked at her. That’s not the way friends do it. Not the others. Except a certain vigilante. But that was too complicated.

But when she gazed at him cautiously, she was surprised by their proximity, his lips merely inches from hers. And that look on his face. Conner flustered? No no no. She hastily created more space. And realized maybe he’d feel offended or hurt.

“Sorry, you surprised me.” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes, hand grabbing the end of the braid and tying it quickly. It was adequate, he did a fairly good job.

“No apologies.” he said blushing, shaking his head. He didn’t want her to worry or upset her. “I was distracted.” He confessed, ruffling his hair.

Raven raised her brow, wondering what caught his attention, placing her chin on her palm. “What’s on your mind?”

Conner paused for a moment, considering telling her the truth. He decided it wasn’t the right time. Sighing deeply, he didn’t have the courage yet to declare his feelings for her. There was no way he could reply saying I was daydreaming about kissing you, the way you deserve to be kissed. His heartbeat increased around 40 beats more than average. He had an idea. He smiled mischievously.

“It’s a secret.” He winked teasingly, praying his cheeks didn’t heat up and thanking she didn’t possess superhearing like him.

Raven’s eyes widened. She snorted softly, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous, Superboy.” The dark haired girl threw some popcorn at him and he chuckled loudly, it was so natural. “I’ll find out eventually.” She said, faking indignation and folding her arms as she closed her eyes.

“You will.” He said optimistically, reassuring her, a confident smile on his face. A promise for the future. ‘One day Raven’ I’ll tell you all those things I’ve bottled up. Those things I want to have with you. He told himself in his mind.

Anither konrae oneshot 🙈🙈🙈🙈💙💙💙💜💜💜

@grassfour

[burnedbyshoto]

Butterfly

Kinktober Day 8 ~ kink: tentacles

pairing: dom!amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 2,848

a/n: wow.........I actually really hate tentacle porn, it always disgusted me, but I would let one man fuck with me tentacles. yes you guessed correctly, shouto. just kidding its definitely tamaki, enjoy sluts!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You sometimes wondered how Amajiki Tamaki was such an unconfident man. His need for perfection was something that worried you, after all, in your eyes he was perfect. Your relationship with Tamaki had begun with major bumps in the road.

He had assumed in the beginning that you hated him. Your sweet words only a taunt in his mind, your affectionate smiles only a hidden snarl. It truly broke your heart when he finally admitted that to you. Tamaki was such a talented Pro-Hero that it often left you bewildered at his nervousness. You knew he would never get defeated in battle. But his often flashes of anxiety that filled his veins while he was in fights scared you.

You would watch via television while Tamaki went from confidence to crippling anxiety. Your hands always clutching your chest as you stare at your, at the time, best friend gets stomped on screen. However, without fail, Tamaki always pulled through. Of course, once you were finally done with work, you raced to his house. Waiting for the indigo haired boy to return home, bruised but victorious.

You could never resist throwing yourself into his arms, his voice squeaking your name. Heavy with embarrassment. You would always follow him in and help him with whatever he needed. You used to leave whenever Mirio and Nejire showed up. Given the three of them were best friends you always felt like you were intruding. It took a while but when Tamaki finally insisted along with the other two, you stayed.

You never expected to become friends with this very talented Pro-Heroes. Even now it made you smile whenever the four of you hung out. But things changed drastically between you and Tamaki. It all beginning after a fateful encounter with a merciless villain.

You remember watching from your office. Too many Pro-Heroes and sidekicks were getting tossed around like rag dolls. Your eyes widening as the onlooking camera crew focused in on Suneater running to the scene. They praised your best friend! Tamaki seemed unaffected by the villain's immense threat as he began to apprehend him.

It was a long fight.

It lasted an entire ten minutes, dramatic highs and lows. All to the point where you believed Tamaki had been killed. The panicked screams escaping your mouth as your coworkers held you. But with tears still streaming down your eyes, Tamaki rose. The costume is torn and in shreds, he ate something. Your shouts intermingled with the entire floors as you cheered him on. And within seconds, the villain was finally defeated. Tamaki standing over him, chest heaving as more Pro-Heroes arrived on the scene.

Tamaki shortly fainted afterward and was then rushed to the hospital.

He was released that same night, thankfully. You were in the waiting room for him to be discharged. Mirio and Nejire asked again if you were sure you were able to take him home. Your eyes were swollen and puffy due to the high amounts of sobbing you did. Your lips are chapped and brittle as you waved them away. “You guys have early rounds tomorrow,” Your voice weak and yet steely strong. “I can get him home. I’m fine now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling scared, y/n-chan,” Nejire says, her voice serious as she held your cheeks in her hands.

It often made you speechless when Tamaki’s friends turned serious. They were all such dynamic people you forgot they could take things very seriously.

“I got this handled.” You affirm, your mouth pulling into a soft smile. They hugged you before leaving. The quiet hours of the late-night consuming you as you waited for Tamaki to be officially released.

You saw the battered hero exiting his room and into the hallway. Bandages surrounding his arms and a few gauges on his cheeks. He acknowledged you with a shy smile, his head slamming away from you as he talked to a nurse.

You stood up, collecting your things as you walked over to the Pro-Hero who talked with the nurse. She looks at you as you approach the counter, a tired smile on her face as she greets you.

“Hi, I’m assuming you’re here to take Amajiki-san back home?” She questions and your head nods in confirmation. “Okay, well please keep an eye on him. We were able to heal him mostly with our resident healing quirk. But he will be extremely groggy in the next few hours when it hits him.”

“O-Oh, of course. I’ll do my best to look after him.” You say with a bow, and a muffled sound comes from Tamaki as you grab his arm gently.

“Ready to go?” You ask, your eyes locked on his blushing cheeks.

He nods, and with that, you take him home.

It’s silent the entire car ride to his home.

Your eyes shifting over to his stiff form as you drive.

He had nothing to say to you, and you had nothing to say to him.

You had been scared out of your mind for him, but you couldn’t help the anger from filling your veins. The only question was why were you so angry?

Angry at him? No, that wouldn’t make sense. You worked hand in hand with Pro-Heroes, you knew what they did was because they wanted to be everyday heroes. So why were you mad at your best friend for scaring you like that?

Your hands tighten over the steering wheel as you pull into his driveway. Stepping out, you helped a stumbling Tamaki to his feet. Your eyes staring ahead as he leaned against your shoulder for support.

You often forget your friend was as strong and as big as he was. His weight crushing your shoulder. You attempted to maneuver him towards his front door.

“Y… Y/n…” Tamaki mumbles as you get to the front door.

“Yes?” You respond getting him to lean between the corner of the walls. All so that you can fish out his spare key from under his rock garden.

“Butterflies are my… my favorite things.” Tamaki tells you this, and you laugh as you shake your head. Your fingers finding the cool brass key and you stand up to see Tamaki looking at you with groggy eyes.

“I know that, Tamaki.” You remind him, “You told me that during our twenty questions drinking game.”

His face flushes red, and you sigh as he slams his head against the wall, his body shaking. “No… it’s not just that.” He admits and you quirk your eyebrow as you unlock the front door.

“Then what is it, Tamaki?”

“C-Can I call you butterfly?” He asks you, confidence seeping into his voice and you freeze as his front door opens.

“W-What?” You stutter, as the man stumbles in his stance, he looks so tired and yet so painfully in love with you.

“I… I like you a lot, y/n…” Tamaki whispers, and he takes a few steps towards you. His tired eyes burning as he presses his forehead against yours. Your chest is hammering as you feel his flushed skin against your own, his eyes closed as if this was a dream. His hands resting on your waist as you choke softly. “Today with that battle… I thought I was going to die, and I was going to die a coward. I couldn’t die knowing that I… that I never got to confess my feelings for you. I’ve always been a coward, my entire life… I know that! But as I lay there… as I lay there--” His eyes were full of tears and your hands grasp his face.

Your fingers brushing away his falling tears as you shake your head, “You aren’t a coward, Tamaki.” You say, the anger within you making sense now. You were in love with your best friend. “You weren’t going to die there, I wouldn’t have let that happened.”

A broken sob escapes his mouth as he shakes his head, furious. “I am a coward, y/n. I’m in l-love with you, and I never confessed until I thought I wasn’t coming back.”

“Tamaki…”

“Even if y-you don’t like m-me back, can I p-please call you butterfly… you just make me so happy…”

His dark eyes search yours, and without a single word more, your lips press against his. Your soul overcoming his own as he cries against your mouth. You don’t care, and tears are coming down your own cheeks as you pull him in close. Your lips uttered to him everything you had never told him. Promising him a future he would never think of until now.

You were in love with your best friend, and you were going to live the rest of your life engraving that into his heart.

When the two of you showed up to the next hangout with your friends. Everyone was so overjoyed to see Tamaki turning beet red as you held his hand cheering in excitement.

Your love was pure, forgiving, wholesome.

Late-night dancing, lingering kisses in the morning, and an insane amount of food dates.

Tamaki surprised you in many areas. His initial anxiety and unconfident nature erasing in many areas. After five minutes of doing something, he tended to feel confident. Of course, the greatest surprise came in bed.

Humans had a natural ability to make things… sexual, to say the least. It took until your fifth month anniversary for you to ask Tamaki to bring his quirk into play. Your mouth brushing against his trembling torso as your hand grasped his cock. “I want to use your tentacles one day,” You sighed, and like that, Tamaki had come into your hands.

Of course, it took another month for Tamaki to not crumble when attempting your request, but once he did. It unlocked something new and exciting within Tamaki. Something that made you wish you had asked him to bring his quirk to bed earlier.

Tamaki bit down on the golden broken takoyaki, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to lick your lips.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, butterfly?” Tamaki asks as he finishes his food. Your thighs rub together in anticipation as you laugh.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” You counter, a cunning grin on your face as his gentle face smiles.

You had no idea what was going on in his brain, but the confident smirks sent waves of pleasure down your spine. Your breaths turning into pants as you wanted him to climb on top of you. Last time around he had simply fingered you, but it seemed he had a new idea in mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Tamaki pulled up a chair, and sat down on by the foot of the bed.

“Tama-chan?” You ask confused, why was he sitting down.

A shriek leaves your lips as something grasps your wrists and ankles.

Your body is pulled against the mattress, and you gasp as you try looking. Sure enough, four pink tentacles are holding your limbs tightly to the bed. The suckers on the limbs making you groan in pleasure at the intense pressure it added to your arms. Pants leave your mouth at the sight of Tamaki smiling at you, pure of innocence.

“You’re quite beautiful when you’re spread out like this, butterfly.” Tamaki sighs as he leans against a single hand, a grin curling on his features. Your body trembled as another tentacle traces up your leg. The cool limb touching your inner thigh, and you struggle against his tentacles. Your body wanting nothing more than to cover up. “Now, now, don’t cover-up. I love seeing your clenching pussy like this, butterfly. I don’t want you to hide from me.”

“Tamaki…” You moan his name as the tentacle moves to your left breast. It encircles it tightly but continues moving. It is quick to reciprocate its actions to your right breast. You arch off the bed as the tentacles pulsate, squeezing your chest delicious as you cry out his name. Good god was this on another level. You shudder against his groping tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against your nipple and you whine greatly.

A chuckle comes from Tamaki, but you lack the will to stare at him in the position. Your arousal feels like its growing as you feel the heat being emitted from your lower lips. Your hips shifting to ease the uncomfortable buildup within you. You weren’t getting the attention you needed down there. Unfortunate for you, Tamaki seemed focused on your breasts right now.

“What’s wrong, butterfly?” Tamaki asks, a smirk all too evident in his tone.

You curse as your hips thrash against the mattress. Your jaw-dropping as his tentacles continue lavishing your body. The pleasure in you only seeming to spark higher as he watches from afar. Your head spinning with lust as you can’t help but feel dirty as his tentacles do his bidding. The tentacles around your wrist tighten and you moan out.

“Do you need more?” Tamaki wonders, and you finally manage to look back down at Tamaki who bites down on his lip. “Tell me, butterfly, do you want more?”

You nod your head, unable to trust your voice as he grins. He raises a single finger, and you watch with the utmost glee as it manifests into a tentacle.

It immediately sinks into your desperate cunt, and you mewl loudly. The moving appendage pressing against the walls of your pussy as it thrust into you. Your hips slam up against Tamaki’s tentacle, your jaw falling down as you pant. The feeling mind-numbing as it slams in and out of you. Over and over, twitching and twirling within your dripping cunt. You plead for more, wanting nothing more than Tamaki’s cock to enter your pussy as well.

“Tama, please! Oh my god!” You scream as the tip of his tentacle easily presses into your g-spot. “SHIT!”

He slams the tentacle into your g-spot without mercy. A feral grin on your face as you continue thrashing against your bonds. His tentacle growing in girth inside your spasming walls. All while he continues to build the fiery pressure from within.

“I think you’re being too loud.” Tamaki groans. The tentacle that was groping your breasts shooting down. The smooth skin pressing against your aching cunt.

Your head throws back and your mouth drops as you’re about to scream his name. You’re cut off as another tentacle fills your mouth. Your scream is muffled, and you choke around the tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against the back of your throat. The tentacle rams further down your throat, and your eyes roll back. The double penetration overwhelming you. There is nothing more that you can do except take it. Letting him have way with you as he fucks both your mouth and clenching pussy.

In and out, your body trembling as he fucks you in both places fast, hard, unforgiving. Your dripping cunt making the most lecherous noises as he pounded into you. The occasional gags emitting from your throat as his thrusts don’t give you enough time to adjust to his speed.

“Kami, you look so fucking delicious like this.” Tamaki pants from the distance, and you moan around his tentacle. Your mind wanting him even more so as the building pressure of your pussy increases. “Are you ready to come yet, butterfly?” You sob a sound that’s choked around his pounding tentacles. Your head nodding as your cheeks feel as if they are on fire. “Then come for me.”

It all comes crashing down. The tentacle sliding up and down your throat erases your sobs. The tentacle pressing into your pulsating clit goes faster. The tentacle slamming into your pussy widens within your clenching walls. You come hard, your vision turns white as you choke around the tentacle.

Your body weakly thrashes around on the mattress as he tentacles finally leave you. Your body sweaty, aching, and on a whole new high as Tamaki finally crawls onto the bed. A teasing smile on his face as he presses butterfly kisses to your collarbone. You heave for air as his touches are achingly sweet.

He gathers your limp body into his arms, and you sigh as he smooths your bruised wrists. “You were so beautiful,” He whispers. You groan slightly as he presses a kiss to your aching throat. “But don’t think this is over.” Your eyes slide over to Tamaki who grinds his raging boner into the palm of your hand. “You’re just too sweet to resist.”

“Tamaki.” You moan as you begin palming him through his restricting pants. You grin as you feel his lips beginning to suckle against your neck. You smirk as his hips rock against your moving fingers. You whine as he pins you back onto the bed, the tips of his hair brushing against your flushed and sweaty skin. Butterflies once more erupting into your stomach.

“I’m glad you're ready for a round two,” Tamaki groans as your fingers grip his hard-on. You chuckle as you silence him with a kiss.

“Me, too.”

[sophi-s]

Cost of Kindness

Chapter I: Chance encounter

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,471

Characters: Original female character (OC), Raphael

Warnings: Graphic description of corpses, blood and injuries, disturbing imagery, swearing

Summary:

Life of a human after the apocalypse is difficult. The world seems to always be against them. Still, they keep on living. But one day something unexpected happens to one of the inhabitants of Haven. A woman named Nicola discovered something... or rather someone... who seemed to be in equally as sorry state as her entire race put together. Nothing was the same ever since. It's curious how one seemingly random event can change everything...

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Nicola got lost again. All the promises she made to both Ulthane and Jones have gone into trash when with a pang of worry she's suddenly realised she does not know where Haven is. It was supposed to be a short supply run, a little trip to some ruined store in search of food and maybe some medicine if luck wished to be on her side and it turned into a whole day long journey. She hadn't been careful enough and ended up getting spotted. She was too fast for that Trauma to get to her before she disappeared into a narrow alley but she successfully lost her orientation.

Navigating through the city used to be so easy before all this apocalypse nonsense. Nicola knew her way around better than anyone honestly. Now everything looked different. What once was her home now seemed sinister and the animosity could be felt in every, even the tiniest speck of dust. All streets, previously so familiar to her, looked exactly the same, often cut in half by obsidian spikes and pits of boiling magma which made moving around even more troubling. In short words, the entire place was a wreckage. With each moment of aimless wandering, her panic was growing. Inwardly cursing, thinking about all the reprimanding she would get after she somehow finds her way back and the fact that she's most likely going to get grounded forever, she tried to move through the street as quietly as possible, without causing any unnecessary noises. Becoming an evening snack for a pack of Goreclaws or a Trauma wasn't a very attractive fate. The latter could still be around here somewhere and the blood spilling from a cut on her forehead she got when she accidentally ran into a wooden beam protruding from a wall wasn't going to make it harder for it to eventually find her again.. It was very unlikely that the Trauma could've gotten stuck in that alley after it tried to get to her. They are dumb. But not that dumb. Though the mental image alone was quite hilarious now that she thinks about it.. To some extent imagining a Trauma helplessly shuffling to try and unstuck itself from a narrow pathway made her feel a tad better, even crack a little smile. Still, she had to think of something. She'd already lived through too much to just die at this point.

Evening? Clutching a shotgun in her shaking hands, Nicola looks out at the amber sky and her heart hastens when she realises that it really is getting late. The last rays of sun were slowly sinking behind the horizon, slowly turning the sky from warm orange to indigo as the tall buildings bathed the city in deep shadows stretching over the ground like dark omens. Just perfect. There was no other choice for her than to hide somewhere and wait until dawn and resume her search tomorrow, hoping someone will start looking for her. Going anywhere after the dusk was an equivalent of a  suicide. Demons and the Wicked tend to be especially active after the nightfall.. Nicola would rather not bump into one of the Suffering either, those things are especially nasty. Hulking, four-armed abominations melded with bodies of the dead, bringing back all those poor souls who weren't lucky enough to get away… she shudders at the thought and hastens her pace.

Most of the houses were already destroyed and usually infested with all kinds of detestable creatures she'd rather avoid - from Wicked, through all kinds of demons and Duskwings, to enormous spiders ready to cocoon any unfortunate passerby for a snack - unfit to be a shelter. But honestly, what wasn't crawling with Hellspawn these days? They were everywhere, as far as the sight can reach. Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Nicola decided to hide underneath the city, hoping she won't find any monsters there.

That was not one of her most brilliant ideas but in truth whatever she chose, it would be just as bad and she hardly cared at this point. Her legs felt as though they went a couple of inches up her arse from all day of walking and running and her empty stomach growled hungrily as she didn't get a chance to stop and eat a sandwich hidden in her backpack. It didn't take long to find a lid of a well leading to the sewers below. Just in case, Nicola dug some new shells out from her backpack and shoved them into her pocket to have easy access to them before pulling the lid out and uncovering a stinking hole in the pavement. The strong "aroma" that drifted out hit her like a brick to the face.

"Ugh.."

Nicola groaned, pinching her nose. Even after the literal armageddon, she still found sewers to be one of the grossest things ever. Like, come on, that's where all the piss and shit goes and a person who enters the sewers for even a minute comes out coated in this stench. Oh well.. It can't be worse than getting torn to shreds by a Goreclaw, can it? Up here was definitely worse than below. Everything she'd met so far - except for Ulthane, Yarin and Elanya - was trying to kill her lately. At least there was no sign of the Big Bad anywhere… Nicola had seen the so-called Destroyer only once and it was enough to last her a lifetime, considering how close she'd been back then. The fact that he didn't spot her, she probably owed the fact that she was somewhere to his right and from what she'd seen his right eye wasn't exactly in good condition. Though, she couldn't deny that the dragon did look sick as Hell - she cringed inwardly at the bad joke her mind produced - and if she wasn't scared shittless and in danger of getting eaten or burned alive, she probably would've taken out her notebook and tried to sketch him. Not often does one see a dragon up this close and Nicola had a habit of drawing anything even remotely interesting she sees. And the more challenging the thing is, the better. In her sketchbook, she already had Ulthane and his younger companions, Vulgrim, some other demons and a Fallen. The last thing she did see pretty damn close. Too close for her liking.

Pulling her stained, dark-blue neckerchief up to her nose as a mostly useless mask against the foul smell, she crouches down and with a loose piece of a brick scratches out a message on the ground, hoping either Jones or some other survivor will find it.

I'M IN THE SEWER

NIKA <3

Just to make it clear, she tears a piece of her already ragged sleeve off and places it under the aforementioned brick next to the message. It's not much but it has to be enough… Without further ado, Nicola slid inside the dark hole and closed the lid above her head. Utter blackness immediately closed around her like a thick coverlet. A quiet sound of dripping, echoing through the tunnel was all that she could hear.

Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop.

Should've thought about taking out a flashlight before cutting off the only source of light.

Grumbling under her breath, Nicola jumped down from a small ladder. But instead of landing on the hard and straight ground, her feet connected with something soft and uneven. With a small yelp, she lost her balance and fell flat onto the actual floor with a wet "Thwack!". Please just be regular water… She begged the puddle underneath her as she scrambled to her feet and pulled the backpack from her shoulders. For a few minutes, she blindly searched through her things, probing for the light source. When her fingers found the flashlight and she turned it on however, she nearly screamed.

That thing she landed on wasn't a mound of garbage like she previously assumed but a body. Body of a dead Phantom General. Its skin was in an unhealthy pallid shade, misty eyes were bulging out of their sockets. And the squishy bit she landed on was its face. Nicola nervously laughs to herself

"Maybe the stench killed him?"

The thought of a large demon dying in a sewer just because it smells bad was kind of amusing and a little comforting. But then she realised that if that was the case, then there's nothing to laugh at. What if there are some poisonous gases in here? Hydrogen sulfide, for example? If it killed a demon, undoubtedly much more hearty, then why shouldn't it do so with a human?

"Shit.. I hope not…"

Nicola curses and immediately presses the neckerchief closer to her face like it would do her any good. Well, no point in wondering about it now. If she were to get poisoned then she probably already was so… Father would be so disappointed if he found out she died in a sewer by inhaling toxic gas. I should've paid more attention to chemistry lessons…  Anyway.. Standing here will not make it any better. She might as well find herself a place to rest for a while or forever. Unless healing shards work on that stuff, she had nothing on her to help should she get poisoned. Flinging her backpack over her shoulder, Nicola turns away from the corpse and peers into the dark pathway which opened before her like a gullet of a gargantuan monster waiting to swallow her whole. Having absolutely no idea that this choice would change her miserable life forever, she takes a breath and bravely moves onward.

The Phantom General wasn't the only one. As Nicola walked deeper into the dark, stinking corridor, she noticed more bodies. Goreclaws, Wicked, Phantom Guards, even a couple of Duskwings and - this was the most unsettling discovery - the serpentine Shadowcaster… all of them pale and wizened. An unnerving feeling grew in her stomach. Nicola had seen much death as of late but this… this was horrifying. It was like walking through a tomb or a mass grave. Up close she could see something she hadn't noticed before. Something that made her mouth turn sandpaper. All of the bodies seemed… dried for the lack of a better word. As though something had drained them of their blood, leaving only shriveled husks behind. But there were no wounds, no markings. Nicola gulps at the thought that whatever killed them might still be down here with her.

Backing away, she takes a turn into another section and curls up in a corner by a metal grate blocking the way ahead. Nicola turns the flashlight off and hugs her knees to her chest, trying to control her fearful breathing. Climbing down into the sewers wasn't such a good idea after all. What if… what if there are things far worse down here than the demons she'd already seen? Her parents often scared her with stories of monsters lurking in the dark pipes and winding tunnels when she was a child but those were only supposed to keep her away from the sewers. The true reason was always the toxic miasma drifting through them. Or so she thought as she grew older. Now it seems that the former turned out to be true… And if it murdered a Shadowcaster just like that, then it was a creature to be reckoned with, no doubt.

Whatever it is that hides in here, Nicola didn't want to meet it. Whether it was a classic sewer monster, grotesque, with teeth and tentacles, or something else it didn't matter. Looking down at her left wrist, where her blessedly still working electrical watch with sun batteries was, she squinted at the numbers it showed.

7:48 P.M.

This was going to be a long night… If she survives this, she would get out and return to the Tree, and tell Ulthane she will never leave again. Essentially, she'd ground herself for him. If she could find her way back, that is.. And this might prove rather tricky. Maybe if she could find a Serpent Hole and bribe Vulgrim to take her to Haven, it would be much easier. But then again, she will have to give him something. Aside from her soul, she had nothing he would be interested in and that she could still make use of. Damn it, why is it so cold in here? Pulling the zip of her vest up to her chin, she curls up even more and hides her hands in her pockets to seek any warmth she could find. The stench wasn't even phasing her anymore. Nicola got used to it after the first few minutes. Besides, her fear was what she was mostly focused on. At least she didn't feel anything that would hint at being poisoned.. Whatever deadly stuff was down here before must've dispersed some time after the apocalypse after the disuse of the sewers. And thank God for that..

Meow…

Her head snapped up at the echo coming from the tunnel she backed out from. It was very weak and quiet but she definitely heard something that sounded vaguely like a cat. A very small and very scared cat.

Meow…

There it was again. This time accompanied by a barely visible flash of light coming from the tunnel further down. Cursing her innate curiosity, she pulled herself up to her feet and snuck towards the entrance to her little hidey-hole. The light appeared again before slowly fading. It looked a little like… like someone was coming here with a broken flashlight. Could it… could it be someone from the Tree? Maybe another survivor lost their way in the sewers? Picking up her shotgun, she decides to check it out, the thoughts of a monster not forgotten per se, but definitely pushed to the back of her mind. Wary of every step she makes, she follows the light and the sounds of a distressed animal. Sleep was never an option anyway..

As she walked onwards, the lights were getting brighter, the meowing louder and the pounding of her heart faster. There were more corpses in various states of decay and skeletons strewn about the further she headed but she decided to stay brave. Should anything attack her, she has the shotgun at the ready. Something in her head laughed at her hysterically. How can she be so naive to think that if there's a monster down here her pathetic shotgun can do it much harm? It didn't have a problem with killing all those things. Why would it have a problem with Nicola and her weak human weapon? Besides, even if she did manage to defend herself, one shot from that thing would bring half of the city down on her head. And that was something she definitely wanted to avoid.

Meow!

Another flash. Her surroundings were slowly starting to change. The bodies were left behind and she started to notice wooden crates lying here and there as though someone meant to hide the passage further down. Was this a hide out if some sort? Flash again.

Meow!

And then…

"Hush, little one… I won't let them hurt you again…"

Nicola's heart hastened when a shaky voice reached her. There really was someone down here! However, she doesn't let her ecstasy control her. They don't necessarily have to be friendly. Everyone is permanently scared and paranoid since the apocalypse and if she jumped out from a dark sewer without a warning she's more likely to receive a bullet to the face than a warm welcome. A flash, very bright this time. Before, she didn't notice it but the light was actually… green? Soft, soothing shade of green. Who uses a green flashlight? Someone who didn't have any other. We're in an apocalypse, for God's sake. Shrugging, she sneaks up towards the turn and carefully peeks into the new corridor, unable to take the anticipation any longer. And she freezes.

There were many things Nicola expected to find. Even the sewer monster was higher on her list of possibilities. But not this. Before her, approximately fifteen feet or so, in a makeshift shelter made out of ratty curtains and wooden boxes sat a humanoid figure. They were wearing some sort of metal shoulder pads on their ragged, dark green clothing, worn and stained, once undoubtedly fine knee-high boots, and a tattered and dirty hood. The gilded edges of their pauldrons were smudged and tarnished, as were the clips of the belts on their hips and across their chest. A pair of disheveled, dusted grey, feathery wings was closed around them like two shields protecting their sides and keeping the warmth in the resulting heat cave. Through a gap between the feathers, she noticed strands of long, white hair in the similar state as the wings spilling from under the hood.

This was one of those… those angels who came as the apocalypse began. Only… This one didn't seem like the rest. They didn't look like one of the warriors. And were unarmed at that, she realises once she doesn't catch a sight of any sort of weapon nearby. 

Meow!

Nicola heard it clearly now, and trying to track down the source of the sound, her eyes wandered to a hand of the angel, one which they held close to their chest. And there, on their large palm rested a tiny ball of fluff with its fur clogged with blood. The angel was hunched over a wounded kitten, and from time to time they brought up the other hand and gently ran their trembling fingers wrapped in stained bandages over the jagged claw mark along its spine. The green light flared up from angel's fingertips as gradually the wound was stitching itself. A sorcerer then. If meeting Shadowcasters was any indicator, then it would be better not to mess with this one.

Meow!

The kitten cried again and the angel, now she was pretty sure it was a male, spoke with a soft and calming, but shaking voice that reached to the depth of her soul.

"Fret not… it will be over. Soon enough."

In honesty, Nicola really had to stop herself from making a loud "awww" noise as she watched this angel treat a tiny injured kitten. How did he get here in the first place? Shouldn't he be with the rest of his buddies? She honestly never thought one of them would ever fall so low as to hide in a sewer of all places. Unless there was no other option. He must've gotten lost or something.. She thinks, almost snickering at how similar to hers this situation was.

To make no mistake, she didn't want to approach the angel, especially after what she'd seen during the apocalypse - most of them didn't give two shits about what happen to her race - and so Nicola decided, even if slightly disappointed that it wasn't another human survivor or someone looking for her like she previously assumed, to go away and leave him be with his kitten. The angels the apocalypse has shown to her were hardly the kind and thoroughly good creatures the image of she grew up with.. But then, nature decided to play a cruel prank on her and a horrifyingly loud sound of her stomach rumbling was carried over the immediate vicinity.

Nicola cursed inwardly at her stupid stomach - really, she would've eaten that sandwich but the smell of the server was very unappetizing - when the angel quickly looked up before gently placing the cat down on a piece of folded cloth and snapping his fingers to produce a small wisp of normal, white light. Now, his face wasn't obscured by the shadow of his hood. It was just like a face of a human, especially with all the grime smeared over it, just more… how to describe it? Features were more apparent, simultaneously sharp and smooth. Like those of a sculpture. Almost overly perfect. However, he looked ill, emaciated with his cheeks collapsed like this and sunken eyes, seemingly too large for his head. His eyes… brilliant white with faint silvery pupils, glowing like two wisps, opened wide in an absolutely blank, emotionless stare, not unlike that of a man in feverish delirium. How long had he been down here?

"Who.. who's there..?"

His lips barely moved as he spoke, his wide eyes darted around in panic as he searched for intruders. Not that she could blame him. Her stomach sounded like a starving demon and as far as she's concerned, his kind isn't really fond of those.. The angel looked a little like a terrified, wounded animal that had been cornered by predators with no apparent way out. It was… sad somehow. Since she'd already been heard, Nicola carefully stepped out of her hiding spot. The reaction she got however, was far different from what she's been expecting. The angel gasped, his wings shot up like two enormous flags as he lifted his hands. Green magic crackled along his slender fingers with most of the nails broken and bloodied as she froze where she stood.

"G- get away! Back off, foul creature!"

He stuttered but didn't attack just yet. Swallowing a lump of fear Nicola forced herself to very, very slowly and carefully take a few steps closer to enter the illuminated area around the scared angel to make him realise this is a misunderstanding and she means no harm. She even left her gun on the floor not to make him feel threatened and kept her hands up, palms forward where he could see them. He squinted but this hollow look in his eyes remained. Disturbing… Even more so when he started to mutter nervously to himself, rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb.

"No… not a demon, nor an angel, a human perhaps…? Yes, yes… has to be… But that's not possible.. They're… they're all gone. Dead, killed, stone dead… Who is this and what do you want? Your tricks won't work on me.."

"I- I'm not trying to trick you, I swear! I am a human. I'm Nicola.."

She assures the angel, hoping that giving him her name will make him feel a little less threatened. A quiet sigh of relief slipped past Nicola's lips when the magic in his hands faded as he curiously - a little like a small, inquisitive puppy - tilted his head to the left.

"Nic… ola…"

He breathed, mulling over her name, testing it on his tongue but his wings still remained aggressively flared above his head. The kitten meowed again, too weak to stand up from the bedding the angel made for it. He seemed to calm down a bit as he glanced down at it and with a flick of his finger made the animal lazily blink before it curled into a ball and immediately fell asleep. The wound on its back wasn't so large anymore and it wasn't bleeding so the black fluff with white feet and collar wasn't in any immediate danger. Angel's attention shifted back to her. But Nicola was the first one to speak.

"Who are you? How'd you get down here?

"Don't know… Human… a human. How did you get in my study? You really shouldn't be here. What is it you want from me? I'm working on improving my shards…"

"I-... Wait, your what ?"

Nicola's face scrunched up in confusion. Get in where? Working on improving his what??

"No, this isn't right… they need more energy…"

At this point she had absolutely no idea what the angel was rambling on about but she could clearly see he was completely out of his mind. Frankly speaking, she wasn't actually sure if he knows what he's babbling either.. There was only one thing that came to her mind when he spoke of shards and so she dug into her pocket, trying to find the one she'd been carrying with her just in case as he clutched at his head, tangling his fingers into his hair under his hood…

"It worked… I did it, I can… but it hurts… Creator, how it hurts… Cold.. so cold…"

His voice was starting to break as his unsteady breathing turned into something akin to sobbing but no tears were shed and he started to rock back and forth, still muttering something unintelligible. Something in Nicola's gut squirmed - or maybe it was the hunger again - as she looked at the scrawny angel mercifully. Whatever happened to him, it must've been horrible. It takes a very traumatic experience to bring a human to such a state but an angel is a different story. Seeing anyone like this saddened her. Finally, her fingers found what they were searching for and she extracted a small healing shard from her vest.

"You mean like…"

At the gentle, green glow the shard was emitting, the angel looked up astonished and let his mouth fall open. He stopped shaking and grasping his head.

"Yes… yes, my shard. I need… My blade. Where's my blade? Who…? My name? My name… I remember, I swear."

This talk of a blade was mildly unsettling to say the least but something in her chest twisted with pity and all fear left her. A little more bravely, Nicola approached the murmuring angel who attempted to scratch something out on the floor beside his knee but only successfully broke one of his nails again and hissed quietly. What happened to you, you poor thing? When she crouched next to him, he stared at her as though he'd seen a ghost when she realised he isn't looking into her eyes anymore. But at her forehead.

"You're… injured…"

He stated as matter of factly. Oh. Right. That was true. It barely hurt anymore though… and wasn't even bleeding. She's certainly had much worse. It will heal on its own in no time.

"Let me just-"

Suddenly he leaned forward to grab at her, making her heart leap up to her throat as she cried out in fear and jumped away from him. Instinctively, Nicola booked it for the tunnel she came from when she heard a heavy thud and a pained groan behind her.. It was her good hearted nature what ultimately made her stop in her tracks and look over her shoulder. To see the angel on the floor, weakly propping himself on his elbows and breathing heavily. He was very weakened. It's unclear how long he'd been down here but it certainly has taken its toll. Nicola looked out into the dark tunnel. Whatever awaited her in this darkness and out in the city surely isn't nicer than this poor sod behind her. She wasn't even sure if he actually meant to hurt her or not. It was a reflex. Then she turned to look back at the angel shivering on the wet floor.. Her throat tightened. God, she couldn't just leave it like this, could she?

"H- hey… are- are you okay?"

Nicola approaches the angel warily and squats before him as he lifts his head to look at her. And in his eyes she sees pain. Horrible, unimaginable pain, somewhere deep within, that made his crusted lips tremble. Such a sight would be enough to break even the coldest hearts. And definitely more than enough to break hers. He eyes her hands when she hesitantly takes him by the arm - careful when she notices a rag stained with fresh blood above his left elbow - and tries to pull him up to his feet or at least to a sitting position but he doesn't recoil. He simply kept staring at her hands in bewilderment. To her surprise, he was much lighter than he looked, probably because of how thin he was, and she managed to do what she intended but she could see that his legs won't uphold his weight as meager as it is. The angel glanced at the cut on her head and once again, albeit far more cautiously, reached out towards it.

"I can… I can heal it. Just hold still.. It will take a second.."

And in spite of herself, Nicola gives him a chance this time. He extended two fingers and as their tips started to glow with green, he gently tapped against her damaged skin. It felt… odd. It wasn't painful but still strange. The edges of the wound grew numb and prickly as the patch of comforting warmth fell over her forehead. And what was even odder, the angel smiled slightly, whispering

"There… It is done.. I.. remember. Was it…? It was, wasn't it… Raphael?"

"Wh- what? What are you talking about, who's Raphael?"

Nicola asks, probing the new, thin scar that was now formed in place of the cut. He really did heal her. Curious. And it did take a second.. For a moment, his face scrunched up in confusion but only for this second before he brightened and some of the strange mist fell from his white eyes as he brought both of his hands up and repeatedly poked his chest with all of his fingers.

"Me.. Raphael is… it's me! And you…"

He extended one finger and aimed it at her head.

"You are Nicola. "

"Y- yeah. Nice to meet you, I guess…"

She hesitantly replies as the circumstances of this meeting weren't exactly "nice". In a dark, damp sewer filled with stench and corpses with a possible monster lurking nearby? Far from nice if someone would ask her.

"What.. huh. What is this place?"

Raphael unexpectedly asked, looking around with his large, white eyes, blinking in confusion. Nicola pulls a face, unsure how to tackle the odd angel.

"You… don't know? You've been living here."

"Have I? Hmmm.. Strange…"

He murmured thoughtfully, scratching at his white goatee also painted with blood that surely spilled from the cut on his lower lip. Then his face shifted into concern as he tried to pull himself up with a strained grunt, clutching at an old, but not healed yet, gash over his ribs.

"I… I have to get back.. they need me in the White City…"

As she was expecting, he collapsed back onto the floor with a tired sigh not even a second later. Where and what was the "White City" he spoke of, she had no idea. What she did know however, was that in his condition Raphael isn't going anywhere. Even if he managed to get up, she could bet her right hand that he would make ten steps at most before collapsing again. Nicola winces and tilts her head to the side.

"Pal, I don't think you're in shape for walking or flying right now.."

"No, I suppose not… they cannot see me like this. I cannot return.."

At this point she wasn't surprised that Raphael kept muttering to himself about things her human brain couldn't hope to comprehend. Nicola got long used to this however. Ever since the armageddon there were very few things she could understand. It wasn't a normal day if something new and weird didn't happen to her or one of her remaining friends. Any hostility the angel showed before has faded now, his wings folded back around him as he leaned over the sleeping kitten to continue treating it. The gentleness he did it with, the uncertain smile on his face were making Nicola's heart melt. Raphael didn't seem like his friends indeed. He was different somehow. Kinder, softer. Less aggressive. More fitting the image of a stereotypical angel. But also definitely not quite… right. Up in the head.

Oh, well. Who is totally normal these days, honestly?

She wants to chuckle to herself when something gives her a pause. A horrifyingly familiar sound coming from the tunnel behind her. Panting, scraping and growling. Inevitably getting closer and closer. Her heart plummets to her heels. This sound… she would recognise it everywhere. The sound that haunted her dreams ever since the demon tore her twin brother, Nicholas, to shreds. This demon.. a Goreclaw, as Ulthane called it. Whipping around, she just managed to spot the quadrupedal monster - the size of your average Caucasian Shepherd (which was still awfully large for its kind), with long, lashing tail and sharp fangs constantly bared in a disturbing grin - appear in the entrance, cutting off the only escape route.

It must've heard Nicola's startled scream and followed it all the way here, hoping for an easy prey. Her breath caught in her throat as she stands paralyzed by the blood-hungry glare of multiple red eyes. This ugly mug, covered in blood of her sibling was still fresh in her mind, keeping her absolutely petrified. Unable to do anything, she kicks herself for leaving her shotgun behind. Now it was resting between the clawed paws of the demon who screeched in excitement as it prepared to pounce at her. Though honestly, with how rigid her body turned, she doubts she'd be able to aim, not to mention pulling the trigger.

This is it. She thinks, feeling blood leave her face. I'm gonna die. After all she's been through.. Killed by a single Goreclaw, ripped apart in a stinking sewer like an ungrateful little shite. Ulthane did so much to rescue her from the claws of that Fallen and now all his efforts are going to go to waste.. Crying out in dismay, she shields herself from the oncoming attack with her arms and shuts her eyes.

Something shifted behind her as the demon jumped at her and… nothing happened. Opening her eyes, horrified and shocked, Nicola almost gags when she sees the Goreclaw standing before her and just… gawking with its jaw slack as though it got hit on the head with something heavy. Faint golden light running around its body like tiny veins didn't escape her attention. That's when she noticed that the demon was trying to move, straining with its own stiff muscles and growling. But couldn't. It was completely paralyzed. A quiet, barely audible thrumming filled the air around Nicola and she began to feel something strange. Something she could only describe as magic. The arcane static began to nip and the bite at her skin like miniscule locusts when a green haze enveloped the Goreclaw before her. The same light fell onto her back, laying her quivering shadow out at her feet. A realisation hit her.

Raphael. He's still there.

After the apocalypse, Nicola had no delusions that angels, even the kindest ones, are ever defenseless. Before she could turn to face the angel, her would-be killer suddenly let out a soul-rending shriek that yet again almost made her drop dead or simply puke out of pure fear. Freed from the paralysis, it fell to the floor, writhing, clawing at its own chest and screeching the most ungodly noise Nicola had ever heard. What's happening?! Absolutely petrified, she watched as the demon's skin seemed to dry and wrinkle as its eyes were nearly popping out of its skull. Life - and color - was frighteningly quickly seeping out of the demon as it squirmed in agony, wailing, unable to fight the power that got a hold of it.

All this looked like taken straight out of a horror movie. And Nicola, on the contrary to Nicholas, was never a fan of those… It all took merely a few seconds of unimaginable torment before the unfortunate Goreclaw wheezed and eventually fell still with its jaws opened and tongue lolled out, wide eyes dull and unblinking, and didn't move ever again. Dead. The memory of all those corpses she has found passed through her head. The Goreclaw looked just like them… Afraid to move a muscle, she stared at the light that moved away from the dead demon, following its movement to the sight that made her back up aghast.

Raphael. The same seemingly gentle angel who healed a small, hurt animal - who healed her - was suspended in midair, tattered robes and disheveled hair billowing, with his wings flared and bristled. This soft smile was replaced by an absolute lack of any expression whatsoever as his wide eyes burned with the whitest white of unbridled anger she'd ever seen. Green streaks of magic - the same green she found so soothing before, now ominous and frightening - bathing the surroundings in brightness, were swirling around his arms, hands with fingers curled into vicious claws. For this moment he looked much stronger, a little younger… and far more dangerous than he seemed before.

"As long as I live.. I shall not stand suffering !"

Raphael bellowed at the corpse at her feet even though it was long dead and already turning cold, caring very little about how horrified she was. He didn't even seem to care how much suffering the demon had experienced before it blessedly lost its hold on life. Not that Nicola thought it didn't deserve that but still it was… pretty gruesome.. Raphael's wounded and weakened body absorbed the life-force drained from the demon and only then did he slowly descend onto the floor and landed on his feet, breathing out with relief. The magic gradually dissipated along with the sharp prickling sensation until only the tiny golden wisp hovering next to Raphael's head remained. His wings fell into their place against his back, this furious light faded out of his bright eyes before he turned to Nicola to shoot her a disarming, awkward smile as though nothing had happened at all. This tiny smile was hardly comforting.. Quite the opposite in fact. It chilled her to the bone like the coldest winter wind.

Oh fuck.

Swallowing thickly, Nicola looked up at Raphael, now standing on his own legs, clearly revitalized by the stolen energy, and felt a little fearful tear roll down her face. Then she shifted her gaze to the demon. Then back to Raphael, who seemed so small and weak before but stood at least two, maybe three feet taller than Nicola - her head reached the bottom of his sternum. I was wrong. She realises with a pang of panic, feeling a little sick in the stomach at the mere thought that this kind healer was as capable of killing her where she stood as any demon up above her head. All he had to do was flick his wrist and look at her and she wouldn't have been able to do a thing to defend herself. It suddenly made sense. There was no sewer monster down here. No beast that would threaten her. No foul creature that could suck the blood from her body and leave ber as a mummified corpse. All this death, all these bodies… The horrifying monster Nicola was expecting to find...

It was him.

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

So yeah. That was the chapter I. I'll try to make more but I don't promise anything XD

The moral of this story? Don't piss off/spook angel sorcerers. Especially the crazy ones.

Also, the art at the end was once again inspired by @coloredgravity 's rendition of Raphael (I drew this mostly out of memory 😂). In addition I gave him a symbol of virtue from Darkest Dungeon over his head. He's mad, true. But he still tries to hold it together :3

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Nightmare

Request from Anon: I’ve been suffering really bad dreams and nightmares that are leaving me shaken the next day and all. And basically, I would really like and appreciate Ezekiel comfort post these dreams. He doesn’t know what the dreams are, so possibly he feels angry and sad on behalf of the s/o when she reveals the truth. The dream topic is quite triggering (bluntly, it’s sexual assault).

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or you’d like to be tagged; please let me know!

MASTERLIST

Translations:

Eres mia y yo soy tuya --  You are mine & I am yours.

Siempre.Yo también mi amor. Yo también. --  Always, me too my love. Me too.

Ezekiel Reyes (Ez) x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: TRIGGERING TOPIC, extensive mention of sexual assault, language, angst, mention of self-hatred. PLEASE don’t read any further if this is upsetting in any manner or form to you!!

******************************************************

        ---FLASHBACK---

It was always the same nightmare, the same abandoned alleyway, and the exact same strange man following her for the last ten minutes. She’d just left Lettie’s surprise birthday. Nothing could’ve wiped the smile off her face that day, unbeknownst to Y/N. Her heart accelerated uncertain of what to do next as her feet sprinted a second faster. Her skin tinged with heat; her eyes dilated in trepidation. She remembered that disturbing night like the back of her hand, never forgetting a spare detail. Nausea trounced through Y/N as she turned the next street corner.

Her vision soon blurred into shapeless blobs the nearer Y/N traveled home but the pitter patter of blatant footsteps haunted her. It was the world’s fucked adaptation of Groundhog’s Day dooming Y/N to repeat her horrid deliriums. Of course, details change a time or two but never enough to ease her panicked heart. Her own screams troubled her subconscious. 

With her body aching for rest and her mind preoccupied elsewhere, Y/N begged for one peaceful night of sleep. But when her eyelids shut, another tale came to life lurking beneath the shadows. She never knew his name; the asshole who so vehemently manhandled her in a very public and humiliating tactic.

Her purple nails slashed ferociously at his skin imprinting shallow cuts against his shaggy suntanned skin. His grotesquely bulky hand gripped her neck temporarily blocking her airways, lifting Y/N momentary levitating. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nooo. Rapid sobs clawed at her throat in a forceful manner. She gawked in horror as he devoured her every inch by creepy inch. 

A predator claiming his kill.  She’d loathed the sickening grin playing on his edge of his lips until he smashed the back of her head against the red-bricked wall.  An unwillingly imprint stamped in her disturbing memory.

This time her vision embarked into dusky darkness similar to that of a curtain collapsing. Black spots prickled her advantageous points of her sight. Goosebumps trickled down her arms in response to the howling wind hitching her dress dangerously high. His callused fingers rubbed harshly stroking the outside of her lace underwear. Once the shock deteriorated, Y/N glowered blankly at the devilish black irises. A burst of energy tingled the tip of her fingers migrating within her muscles and bones protesting a final shout of defiance. Her ears resonated tortuously, her voice reverberated from her windpipe, and her knee left the ground in haste connecting perfectly with his groin.

“Ooof, you fuck---ing bitch.” The man coughed violently falling to the paved cement.

She planted her hands trivially atop his chest pushing with every ounce of strength thrusting him away from her.

Y/N gritted in pure fury. “Fucking asshole!”

Without a second glance Y/N ran, she sprinted until approaching Lindo’s ice cream parlor two three away. She’d never been so thankful for high school cross country in her entire life. Replaying her phone call to Ez overwhelmed her countless times a day, listening to the spooked man on the other end. The only man she’d grown to trust since the incident. It was also a call Ez couldn’t erase from his head listening to the dead tone. Never in a million years did Ez conjure hearing her disconnected tone. He found her easily enough sitting on the plastic chair near the window.

Her back hunched sitting far from human contact. Still, the moonlight reflected off her in the most radiant of ways. Effortlessly magnificent. The bell hummed as the door closed behind Ez. Y/N didn’t look up until two brown boots met her penetrating stare. The rest was history. Ezekiel was more committed and in love with her than ever. He placed a kiss on her forehead resting his chin on her head. There was no hiding the flinching shudder that overtook her before Y/N leaned into his touch.; calming and familiar. He brought her into his tattooed arms, his comforting fingers ran along her spine. He’d never hated silence so much than in that very moment.

        ---PRESENT---

Ez awoke from his slumber when Y/N started to mumble incoherently, her body whipped back and forth riddled with unreleased anxiety. Perspiration glistened along her exposed skin falling into droplets on their indigo/cobalt sheets. Her eyeballs bounced around her shut lids further worrying Ez. His left hand gently shook her arm hoping to stir, to throw him a damn sign, anything to know she was okay. Her nightmares were becoming a nightly occurrence. Just like lightening, Y/N bolted up chest heaving for fresh air. Her eyes scanned their room grasping she was home, with Ez. She whimpered burying her face into his neck. Wet streaks shot down his neck as tears specked her cheeks.

“Baby, Y/N; can you hear me?”

Y/N continued to glare straight refusing to glance at the angel by her side. Her room shifted into familiarity exhaling boisterously. Blood pressure returned to normal levels allowing her a moment of vital clarity.

A meek ‘Yes’ stumbled from her quiet lips.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? What’s eating at you baby girl?”

To this day, Y/N never mentioned what happened that night, the assault. Whether it was shame or humility, Y/N was still working through the motions. Past experiences taught her to maintain an open heart to healing but the impenetrable wall inside stopped her. obviously so, he knew something was up when he picked her up, but he never asked any questions. Shortly after they became lovers, their friendship strengthened far greater than either prepared for.

Soon, they became inseparable entangled in each other’s lives, and they were simply happy. Y/N was a hard book to crack, keeping her emotions in check, embracing rational thinking for any and all decisions. She was the only other woman to beat his GPA, challenge his testimonies, and explode into contagious laughter at the drop of a hat. Falling in love with Y/N was the easiest decision Ez made in the last ten years.

“I’m here. I’m here” chanted repeatedly, a whisper in the calm of night.

“Almost a year and a half ago…. I—” Y/N shuttered as her courage began to waver.

Ez cupped her face bringing them to eye level. His amber orbs calmed her, oozing protection and unconditional love.

“Go on…or well, don’t? The choice is completely yours.” Internally, his blood boiled with concern. Y/N was the bravest girl he’d ever encountered, it wasn’t like her to stay hush hush. Ezekiel swore he’d kill whoever scared the living shit out of her, to the bastard who rattled her bones. And, he definitely wasn’t a man to fall back on his promises.

Y/N’s rolled her eyes at his cuteness, Ez was the ying to her to yang. She’d never trusted someone the way she treated Ezekiel.

“I was aa-a-attacked. After Lettie’s 18th bday.”

Ez ripped the sheet from his body standing up, quickly pacing. How the fuck did he let this happen? Why hadn’t she opened up to him earlier? Question after question poked at his fragile ego breaking him all the while enraging him. Y/N scooted to his side engulfing into his fading heat. She remained quiet sulking in the suffocating silence of the room. Ezekiel stayed speechless.

“Don’t blame yourself, E.” Y/N quipped. “I know that look Ezekiel Reyes…” a hint of a smirk came out of the darkness.

“Blame myself? Of course, I do! I’m fucking furious!” His voice broke into heart shredding quakes; “I wasn’t there to protect you. The one thing I promised to fucking do. I’m so sorry, so sorry querida.”

“He didn’t—he almost raped me but didn’t. I kicked him in the balls and he dropped. If it hadn’t been for those few additional seconds, I’d be a goner. And that’s terrifying.”

Ez sat on the mattress, his knees brushing hers, his hand guided to the outskirts of her thigh squeezing lightly.

“If anything were to happen to you…I—I refuse to think about a life that doesn’t involve you. That fucking prick had the audacity to disrespect the Mayans unknowing of his repercussions. Did you recognize him? Any distinguishing features?”

“Not really… Caucasian with hideous gelled tips? Breath reeked of barbecue and he smelt of pleather and whiskey. Hideous snake tattoo draped on his forearm. He followed me from the restaurant. He was watching, waiting to get me alone. I’m just ...dealing with it. Finally getting around to the processing bit and it’s scary. This shit’s complicated and I didn’t want you think I was this weakling. So, I buried it so deep within me that it’s beginning to eat away at me edging closer to the surface.”

Ez leaned in finding her lips with ease kissing her with fervor. They stayed like that a few kisses longer before faintly parting. The space between them was minimal but enough to be grateful for.

“You are the opposite of weak. In fact, you’re the most determined and brilliant person I’ve ever laid eyes on. There is only one Y/N for me and I will stand diligently alongside her for as long as she’ll have me.”

“I love you, Reyes. Eres mia y yo soy tuya. Siempre.”

“Yo también mi amor. Yo también”

Ez and Y/N understood the difficult road ahead of them, Y/N’s agonizing memories, but he was proud of her. Proud of the woman who took a stand and fought like hell, choosing to share the comfortable pieces of her past life.

Her tone excluded downhearted sadness; “I’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life.”

“Stop that. Stop right there. Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.”

Discreet snores told Ez she’d long fallen asleep. He laid them down holding her determinedly. Y/N cuddled into his warmth nuzzling his shoulder sheepishly sighing. His mahogany eyes grew heavy joining Y/N in a serene slumber. The crickets chirped at the summer’s heat worshiping the moon. The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemingly glowed around them like a moth a flame. To be alive at all is to have scars. But to love openly regardless of said scars; now that, that was life’s truest miracle.

~~~~~~~~

Tags: @ifoundmyhappythought​ @angelreyesgirl89​ @carlaangel86​ @imagineredwood​ @mayans-mc​ @reaperwalking​ @prospectfandom​ @emmaveale123​ @peaky-marvel​ @kind-wolf​ @scorpio4dayzzz​ @starrynite7114​ @breanime​ @whyisgmora​ @thegirlwhowritesfics​ @star017​ @threeminutesoflife​ @gemini0410​ @ly-canthrope​ 

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 17

Two days after part 16! Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes (also thanks for Indigo!), @pen-of-roses, @thoughts-of-nora, @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Hugo!)!

Two days after the encounter with the Bystander, and Churi had been trying so hard to break me. Torturing me and trying to hurt me with his words. He was finding it was harder than he thought it would be to break me. Oh darn.

I was sleeping since it had been a late night with scoping out the Capitol again and trying to fall asleep. My back and arms were throbbing from the healed wounds. And of course, there was a knock on my door.

I rolled over and covered my face with a pillow. Not in the mood, damn it. “Fuck off.”

“Good morning to you too.” Oh great. It was the bastard scientist. “Are you dressed?”

I was, but I wouldn’t let her know that. “Shiiiit. One second.” I jumped up and grabbed my collapsible hat. I needed it today. I opened the door with my wide hat on and grinning brilliantly. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”

She did glance at the hat first. Ha. But then she looked back at me. “Just stopping by to see how you were doing.”

“Sure you were. Are you going to ask about my eating habits again? Or have we graduated to my sleeping habits?” I stepped aside to let her in, however. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

She took a seat on the chair in there. “Alright, that wasn’t my main purpose today. Though I do like to keep an eye on how Churi treats his captives.”

“Well, if you’re interested, my sleeping habits would be better if I wasn’t woken up at 6 in the morning. Just saying.” I leaned against the door as it closed. I wasn’t going to sit down.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She reached into her pocket and took out a phone I recognized. Shine had worked so hard on that. A decoy phone that would flash so brightly that it would temporarily blind whoever tried to unlock it. It was cracked. “You know, I ran into someone the other day.”

I stiffened. What the hell had she done? “Huh. And by that, I assume you mean you went and visited Churi’s prison?”

“I try and avoid that place honestly.” She turned the phone over in her hand. “I ran into them snooping through some files.” Bullshit. “Now that I’ve met them I have to admit I underestimated them since they put up a good fight.”

I snorted, clinging to the fact that she was lying. “Sure. What are you trying to do? Give me hope? I think that’s the opposite of what the Capitol wants.”

She shrugged and set the phone on the table. “I just thought it would be polite to tell you they didn’t make it. Churi didn’t see the need to tell you but you have a right to know.”

No.

No.

I sucked in a breath, and my fist flew on its own, right into the smug bastard’s face. My hat fell off as I pounced on her to knock her to the ground as tears threatened to spill out of my eyes. “I’ll kill you!”

The coward yelped and covered her face as I punched her repeatedly, barely even finding satisfaction in how my fist connected. I was actually crying now, and my voice cracked. “I’ll kill you! What did you do?”

She tried to crawl away, but I just grabbed her shirt and slammed her up against the wall. I glared as I started shaking. Shine…Shine was… “You think I’d let you get away so easily?” I growled.

She was bleeding, but I didn’t even think about my magic. She wasn’t even trying to struggle. “Stop.”

Hell no. I tightened my grip as Shine lying curled up on the floor as they bled out flashed through my mind. “Like you had any mercy on Shine?” A sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. Shine… My grip loosened a little. They…they were gone. I squeezed my eyes shut as tears fell hot down my cheeks. “You…you…they’re gone.”

She tried to struggle, but she was too weak. Good. But before I could punch her again, or do anything smart, Peacekeepers kicked down the door to my room and pulled me off of her. I struggled, but it was no use. I wouldn’t be able to actually follow through on my promise. I went limp as they held me. They won. I couldn’t let her touch anyone else on my crew. “You…you can tell Churi that I give in. I’ll cooperate with the Capitol when they show me off on TV.”

*

After a lot of crying and more crying, I finally decided to get up and do something. I had only promised to cooperate on TV. I hadn’t said anything about any other time. And I could steal something from Aurora Dewpoint, an associate of Indigo’s, that would make Indigo sweat. But, I’d like to have a companion with me. And who better than Hugo?

I cracked open his door. “Psst. Hugo! You awake?”

He sat up quickly. “No. Triel? Is that you?”

“No. I’m the dream version of Triel, here to make your wildest dreams come true.” I trotted over to his bed with a grin. “Would you want to go on a stealing heist with me?”

He relaxed. “Oh, hell, yeah.” He worked his way out of the covers, his movements stiff. Shit. What had they been doing to him? “Who are we robbing this time?”

I grinned wider. I had missed him so much. It was a good distraction. “An associate of a bastard scientist who needs to see some of her important shit get burned. I know how to sneak into the associate’s house, and you can steal whatever you want while I find what I’m looking for.”

“Finally, some proper trespassing. Lead the way.”

I did, going back to my room and opening the window, since the locks were still broken. I jumped out into the night and made my way to Aurora Dewpoint’s house. There were plenty of windows to act as handholds to get to the roof, so I scrambled up there to get to a ventilation shaft.

I nodded over at Hugo. “Meet in an hour if you want to split up.” I didn’t give him a chance to really respond. I just wanted to grab the vial of Aurora’s son’s hair that she had kept after hiring Indigo to get rid of him.

The room that probably had the vial was near the kitchen, so I slipped in there from the shaft, absentmindedly grabbed a fruit from a bowl, and walked over to the room. I glanced back and smiled a little when I saw Hugo snooping around close. It was nice to know someone was on my side. I snooped around in the room, found the vial, and headed out after snagging a candle and some matches. It wasn’t a lot of hair. I scrambled back out with Hugo close behind me, and when we got far enough away from the house, Hugo spoke up. “You got what you were looking for?”

I nodded and held up the vial. “Yeah, I did! And we’re gonna go burn it.”

“Arson. Spicy. I’m on board. Where are we going?”

“A secluded place.” I pulled out my phone. “And once I start videoing, don’t speak and don’t get in view of the camera. I’m not incriminating you with me.”

“What more are they gonna do to me?” He scoffed, but I decided not to comment. “Alright. Fine. As long as I don’t have to go back right away.”

I grinned. “Of course not! I like your company.” I found an empty alley and pulled out the candle and matches. “Yeah, it won’t be much of a show.”

“I got this important-looking document if you wanna burn it, too, just for background lighting or whatever. I wasn’t gonna do anything with it. Unless you think a solo piece works best.” He leaned against a wall and offered the document.

I grinned. Brilliant! “Sure!” I took the paper and lit the candle. I turned the camera toward me and took a bite of the fruit I had stolen. Grin. “You were asking about my eating habits, so I hope this satisfies you. I’ve been busy tonight and I happened to run across this.” I held up the vial with the code facing the camera, and the document. “This seems to be from Ms. Aurora Dewpoint, and it seems to be the hair of her son, Skyler Dewpoint, who didn’t die but is in fact alive and well despite the aforementioned woman’s best efforts. Yes, Aurora Dewpoint sold her only son, Skyler Dewpoint, to Umbra Ursi, run by Dr. Indigo Carmine, for Ms. Carmine to get rid of. Which she failed to do. And it would be a shame if this was sent to all the important people in Panem, now wouldn’t it? Unfortunate indeed.” I opened the vial and burned the hair in the candle, along with the document as the words faced the camera. “And I’m guessing that was important, wasn’t it? Ms. Aurora Dewpoint wouldn’t keep it otherwise. Certainly not for sentimental reasons. Well, I hope this finds you well, Ms. Carmine. Go fuck yourself.” I gave her a beautiful middle finger and then cut off the video.

Hugo grinned in the background and spoke once I was done. “You got a real way with words, hat lady.”

I grinned back at him and blew out the candle. “Thanks!”

And of course, a voice just had to yell at us right after that. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Steve? From training? I tossed the candle and matches farther down the alley before turning to Steve with a radiant smile. Fake fear dripped through my voice. “Oh, Steve, you found us! We were so lost. It’s fortunate we ran into you.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the other Peacekeeper who led us out here was just trying to get in trouble.” Hugo faked nervousness. Nice.

“And then he just left us. The rude man. He should be reported.”

Steve just stared at us before he stuttered a little. “You—you’re supposed to be dead!”

“And you’re supposed to be the head of the Counterintelligence Department.” Hugo actually sounded pleasant, like it was a compliment. “But life ain’t fair and nobody’s perfect, so here we are.” I had to suppress a snort of laughter.

Steve just spluttered some more. “I—I have to take you in for questioning!”

I shrugged. Fine. Whatever. “We have nothing to hide. Be my guest.” I hadn’t broken any rules. Ha. And I wouldn’t let them say Hugo had either. As Steve led us away, Hugo gave me a look of confidence, and I grinned back at him.

Steve took us to a Peacekeeper building and put us in a bare room with mirrors on all the walls. He stared at us a little bit, opening his mouth a few times before he spoke. “I’ll be back.” And he left.

I winked over at Hugo. “Thanks. Let’s screw with him some more.” I pulled out my collapsible hat, which I had been smart enough to bring, and uncollapsed it. I took my mom’s necklace out first, just in case Steve decided to take the hat, and put it around my neck, hidden under my shirt. I grinned. “And let’s have some fun.” Hugo didn’t say anything, but he smiled the perfect evil smile.

When he came back in, Steve looked a little put together, but then he froze and stared between us. He stuttered again. “So—so what were you two doing out there when you were supposed to stay in your rooms?”

I sighed. “You sound just like my mother.” Question: was I referring to the fact that I didn’t have a mother or to Volt, who was like a mother to me now? I didn’t even know. “But we told you. A Peacekeeper dragged us out there and just left us. You should be questioning him instead.”

“Then you could play good cop, bad cop together instead of, y’know, letting yourself be outnumbered. By two completely innocent zombies who were just following directions.” Hugo sounded completely innocent. Beautiful.

He looked hopelessly lost. “You—no one was sent to take you anywhere. You’re lying…” He trailed off, so that meant he didn’t really believe that. Ha.

I went for the kill. I batted my eyes at him, and he gulped. “Would we ever lie to you?”

“Yeah. C’mon, buddy. We go way back,” Hugo chimed in. “Name one time we’ve led you astray, eh? You can’t.”

He flushed at that. Probably remembering a certain training day with a certain lady pretending she didn’t know how to use any weapons. Wasn’t me, though. “You—I…”

I sauntered forward and took his hand, looking up at him all innocent. “Find the person who’s really responsible for this, won’t you Mr. Peacekeeper, sir?”

“You wouldn’t let injustice go undone on your watch, would you?” Hugo delivered the finishing blow, putting his hands together under his chin to look like a disconcerting, pleading, too-old-to-be-a-child human.

Steve took one glance at me after his eyes skirted away from Hugo, and he flushed. Poor fellow. This was too easy. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t say anything, and the door opened to save him. Churi. Of course.

But he also look dumbfounded, so ha. He frowned. “Why would you throw all your promises away for an outing that has no gain for you?”

Middle finger. C’mon, that was just an instinct now whenever I saw him. “Actually, I’ve followed my one promise to the letter. As best I can before the Capitol even shows me off on TV. I only agreed to be cooperative on TV.”

The good thing was that Churi was only paying attention to me. His lips thinned, and his eyes burned with anger, and he started to say something, but he stopped himself and thought. “Actually, you’re right. And I should have seen you pulling a loophole like that. I will not let that happen again.” His eyes landed on the necklace, and he smirked. “I’m glad you still have that lost memento of your past.”

I clenched my jaw for a little bit before I could bite out any words through a smile. “Since we didn’t break any rules, surely there can’t be a punishment. Escort us back with the stern talking-to you’re planning.”

Churi nodded and started walking, and I looked back at Hugo with a wink and a grin. “Thanks for being here! It was fun!” I whispered.

“Yeah! I’m glad it worked out, more or less.” He gave me a thumbs up back. It was awesome to have someone on my side.

Once we got back to the apartment, but before he could lock me up again, I looked over at him with an innocent smile. “Do you happen to have Indigo Carmine’s phone number? I’d like to thank her for today.” Banking on the fact that he probably didn’t like her too.

A smile crept across his lips, and he wrote down a number. “Thank her as much as you would like.”

I grinned and snagged it before slamming the door to my room in his face. I would send the video tomorrow morning.