#anyways raven please step on me and break my nose and my ribs and

[seven-tastic]

Raven and his lady

[nekojitachan]

I’ve forgotten what part this is now. Six? Seven? Anyway, more of the Raven!Andrew soulmate AU.

Last part can be found here.

Ah, mention of someone going through drug withdrawals...

*******

“So, with all the games in, it’s pretty easy to figure out which teams are in the top four of each district,” Nathaniel proclaimed as he peeled his clementine. “Well, if you’re good at math.”

“You’re a freak of nature,” Jean grumbled, much as he did every time Nathaniel brought up his talent for mathematics.

“Oh, so you don’t want me to help you study for that Trig final?” Neil grinned when his partner tossed his own clementine at the smart-ass. “As I was saying, it’s pretty easy to figure out who’s in the top four. Naturally, we’re in the lead for the northeastern district and overall in the division.”

“What a surprise,” Andrew drawled as he pushed his empty plate aside and tried not to stare when his soulmate licked a drop of juice from his right thumb.

Tried not to.

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure no one will be shocked when Tetsuji announces that fact this Saturday at the banquet. Nor will anyone be surprised when they find out that the Trojans are in first place for the southwestern district.” He seemed to be staring straight at Jean as he said that, while his partner was intently focused on aligning his chopstick a certain way on his food tray.

Jean cleared his throat before he spoke. “They are the second-best team in the division.”

“Yes, and their new captain is very talented.”

“He’s… not too bad.”

Andrew suspected that he was missing something – at least until he caught the way Jean’s right hand rubbed over the soulmate mark hidden beneath the sleeve of his shirt; he remembered the backliner telling him that his soulmate played Exy, too. Andrew clicked his tongue as he reached over to steal a slice of Nathaniel’s fruit, which prompted a pout from his own soulmate that wasn’t adorable at all. “Is he as much an asshole as ours?” he asked in French.

“Ple-ah, come on.” A slight flush colored Nathaniel’s cheekbones as he caught himself in time; he’d noticed that Andrew didn’t care for the word ‘please’ and so avoided it in any language he spoke. “He’s a Trojan. He probably doesn’t even know how to spell the word, he’s so good.” He wrinkled his upturned nose at the end as if saying something foul.

“Which is why you’ll never be a Trojan, you little demon,” Jean told his partner.

“I never wanted to be,” Nathaniel declared as he threw a piece of clementine peel across the table.

Andrew propped his chin up on his left palm as he watched the partners squabble, partially distracted as he recalled the Trojan’s captain and starting striker: Jeremy Knox. Hmm, not too bad, though much too smiley for his tastes.

The bickering only stopped when it was time for the team to report for afternoon practice; even with the semester all but over, Tetsuji wasn’t easing up on the Ravens, oh no. Andrew had already been warned that the next semester would be brutal as the Ravens defended their title yet again. He’d deal with the stupidity of the whole ‘must win’ mentality after winter break; first he had to suffer through a little thing like withdrawal, considering that he was headed to some rehab clinic on Wednesday, after his last final.

(On one hand, he got out of the winter banquet. On the other hand, he’d probably be puking his guts out Saturday night. He still preferred skipping the stupid banquet.)

They’d just finished a scrimmage when Riko and Kevin returned from Baltimore, Riko appearing tired and his dark eyes red-rimmed, while Kevin was nervous and wouldn’t look Tetsuji in the eye. Tetsuji said something harsh to them in Japanese that made Nathaniel shift on the bench and Jean mutter in French, then ordered them onto the court for the final scrimmage – against each other.

Andrew didn’t need to be psychic to know it wasn’t going to end well.

“Another bad game last night?” he asked in German.

“They nearly lost,” Nathaniel answered as he watched the disaster unfold. “Kev… was unusually unfocused.”

Kevin Day, Kayleigh Day’s son, raised on Exy and in the Nest, who was one of the best strikers ever (all right, Andrew agreed with his soulmate that the arrogant, tall bastard was the best, not that he’d ever tell Nat that) was ‘unfocused’? Hmm, somehow Andrew suspected that it had to do with the growing rumors that Kevin was holding back because of Riko (was held back because of Riko). Someone took their #2 status a bit too much to heart.

Or they knew how vicious someone could be if they believed their precious status as #1 was threatened….

Not that Andrew gave a shit (he didn’t give a shit about much in general), but a certain soulmate watched on with a stiffening back and clenched fists as Riko, Federov and Johnson slammed Kevin around, as they tripped him up and knocked him down, jabbed the butt of their racquets into his padded ribs while Tetsuji turned a blind eye to it all.

The scrimmage finally ended with Riko’s ‘team’ winning by six points and Kevin on his knees gasping for air; Tetsuji nodded in approval at his smug prick of a nephew. Right away, Nathaniel was on his feet, his blue eyes bright with righteous indignation and cheeks flushed with anger, and actually got a couple steps away from the bench before Andrew realized that the idiot was about to cause a world of trouble.

He managed a word or two of Japanese before Andrew charged forward, grabbed his fool of a soulmate by the waist and heaved him over his shoulder (thankful that Nathaniel was on the lean side). “What the- put me down!”

“Ah, ah, sweetpea, practice is over and now you’re mine.” He nodded to Tetsuji, who gave him that ‘you’re a bug unworthy of my attention’ gaze and smacked Nathaniel’s ass to make him stop squirming. “I told you that you have to listen to what I say, time to reinforce the lessons.” That seemed to prevent Riko from going all ‘king’ on them for disrupting what was technically the last two minutes of practice; the prick laughed and called out suggestions for how Andrew could punish Nathaniel, while Kevin appeared grateful to have the attention turned away from him.

Jean gave Andrew an intent look as he headed for the Nest, but a slight nod from Andrew made him relax; he had to have worried about the trouble Nathaniel was about to drag him into, yet he still wanted to make sure that his partner wasn’t going to be harmed. Andrew would call him a fool, too, but he knew that Jean also considered Kevin a friend.

Scratch that, Jean was indeed a fool.

He smacked Nathaniel’s pert ass again (no, don’t think that) and got a fresh spate of insults for his troubles (in Japanese, of course, since he didn’t know the language – Nathaniel wasn’t a total idiot). Andrew bypassed the locker room and kept on until he found an unlocked door to a suitably uncluttered storage closet (just a few ladders and boxes of lightbulbs); he dumped a squirming Nathaniel onto his feet (more or less) and locked the door behind them.

Nathaniel (as always) was quick to regain his footing; he pulled his disheveled jersey down to cover the bare slip of abdomen then pushed back the damp auburn curls falling onto his flushed face as he glared at Andrew. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Andrew leaned against the locked door as he gazed at his furious soulmate (dammit, did Nathaniel have to look even more gorgeous when he was angry?) “I don’t know,” he drawled as he folded his arms across his chest. “That I was preventing you from doing something stupid enough to earn both you and Jean a bad enough beating that you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow? Hmm?”

Mention of his partner made Nathaniel jerk back and then duck his head, the fire in him slowly sputtering out; Andrew would feel bad about that except that he didn’t believe in guilt and that everything he’d said was the truth. “I… dammit, I was trying to protect Kevin,” he said in a quieter voice, the heat of anger all but gone.

“Kevin is a big boy,” Andrew repeated for the fifty-eighth time. “Worry about yourself and Jean.” And him, because he wouldn’t allow Nathaniel to be such a suicidal fool.

Especially when he’d soon be gone for a couple weeks.

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment as he nibbled on his full bottom lip before he shrugged. “But… never mind.” His expression became closed off as he edged toward the other side of the closet, as far away from Andrew as possible.

Over the course of the semester, they had… well, they had grown comfortable in each other’s presence, had let down their guards somewhat. They were able to be close to each other, to spend the night in the same room and actually rest, to have their little jokes, to tease each other… but they still had their secrets, didn’t they? Andrew got most of his knowledge about his soulmate from Jean and others, while Nathaniel… well, he hadn’t told Nathaniel too much, had he?

He clicked his tongue as he dropped his arms to his sides. “Look, why don’t we try something new? You tell me something true, something you’re willing to give up, and I’ll tell you a truth in return.” He gazed at his soulmate steadily, as if he hadn’t offered something so ridiculous, something so… so intimate and… and… and ridiculous.

Yet after a few seconds, Nathaniel smiled and nodded. “Okay. So, uhm, who goes first?”

Andrew slumped against the wall for some reason and let out a slow breath. “You can ask first.”

“Okay.” Nathaniel did more of the lip nibbling thing (which did not help considering that they were enclosed in a small space and Andrew wanted to reach out to pull his soulmate close and- not helping) before he spoke. “Why did you agree to go off to rehab over winter break?”

Oh. Okay, that wasn’t bad. “Because I was put on the drugs against my will, they don’t do shit for me except jerk my emotions around, so I’ll jump at a chance to get off them early.” His grin widened even more as he flashed his hands in the air in a ‘ta-da’ manner. “I know I’m so much fun this way, but hyper Andrew is going bye-bye.”

“I… like you better without them. The drugs. Uhm.” Nathaniel ducked his head again, but not before Andrew caught a hint of blush on his cheeks. “So, your turn?”

Andrew shoved his hands behind his back before he did something stupid (like stroke his fingers over those warm cheeks). “Why are willing to get into so much trouble for Kevin?” Why did he try to step in for someone he barely talked to- was it because they shared the same ugly tattoo?

“Ah.” Nathaniel looked at him again, his expression thoughtful. “You… you’ve only been here a few months,” he said as he toyed with the hem of his Ravens’ jersey. “When I first came here, Riko wasn’t so bad and Kev helped me out a lot, showed me what to do and not to do.”

“Did he get you to keep your mouth shut?”

The slight, amused smile which always made something warm spark inside of Andrew’s chest curled on Nathaniel’s lips at the improbable question. “He tried, but….” Nathaniel gave a one shoulder shrug. “It was the three of us for a while, and then Jean showed up. Even then, all of us were young enough that Riko didn’t pull away entirely, not for another year or two.” His smile faded as he recalled the past. “Then he became determined to make us know our place, to show us the difference between heirs and belongings.” He gave an unconscious rub along his abdomen, which was littered with knife scars.

“Kev still talked to us and tried to help, but the partner bond with Riko gradually grew tighter and he didn’t have much free time to spare. That would have been fine, but the last year or two… well, you’ve seen it,” Nathaniel said as he gazed at Andrew. “Riko treats Kev more like a threat than a partner and brother.”

“So you think you owe it to him to try to defend him?”

Nathaniel shrugged again. “He stepped in for me in the past.”

Andrew slowly reached out to tug on his soulmate’s jersey. “Does Riko take a knife to him if he fights back? Give him to Federov as a treat?” He hated to bring that up, but he’d learned that Nathaniel was so damn stubborn and willing to martyr himself for those he considered friends.

(That  wasn’t familiar at all.)

There was a flash of hurt in those pretty blue eyes for a moment, but Nathaniel didn’t bat his hand away. “No, nothing so permanent for Kevin, unless you count the emotional damage.”

Count on Riko to cover all his options when it came to abuse; Kevin could appear arrogant and confident as hell in front of a camera or out in public, but Andrew had to admit that anymore, he was a quiet presence around his partner when at the Nest.

“Then don’t rush to his defense and give Riko an excuse to hurt another person,” Andrew said as he tugged on his soulmate’s jersey again. “You’re supposed to have some brains, use them for once.” He clicked his tongue then let go.

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes as he straightened his jersey. “And did you think things through when you hauled me into here?”

Andrew was the one to shrug that time. “We’re soulmates and everyone thinks we’re screwing around, sweetpea. I’m sure they’ve ‘figured out’ what we’re up to, and it’s not talking.”

“Well then, we better leave now because I’m sure they expect you to be done by now, hasenfürzchen,” Nathaniel purred as he mussed his hair. “Even with a round two.”

That… Andrew didn’t know what surprised him more, his new nickname (what the hell) or that his soulmate was going along with his little joke. “Don’t forget to limp,” he advised as he unlocked the door. “You know, since I’m so big.”

“Something of yours is certainly huge and needs cut down to size,” Nathaniel muttered as he stomped out into the hall; Andrew noticed that Jean was waiting for his partner, along with a few sniggering Ravens. He ignored them as he went to change out of his Exy gear and shower, only pausing when he spotted Aaron in the red-painted hallway along the way to the locker room.

His twin should be almost done with his shift as Tetsuji’s work study assistant, running errands and doing a bunch of menial office tasks on the weekend. As surly as he’d been when it had started, he soon settled into the job, probably aware of how the experience would reflect well on him when he applied for medical school.

(That and Nicky most likely had given him an earful when he found out about him almost being kicked out of Edgar Allan.)

Aaron had, no big surprise, ignored Andrew at first, but gradually got over his latest fit of temper – especially when he learned that Andrew would spend the winter break coming off his court-ordered medication.

At first, Aaron had yelled at him for leaving him stuck with visiting Nicky and Erik in Germany by himself, in having to put up with the ‘disgusting, love-sick idiots’ all the time. Then he got on Andrew about finding a ‘cheap’ excuse to get out of giving any presents that year. Finally, he sneered and called him a wimp for going the ‘posh clinic route’ for rehab.

Andrew gave him the finger each time and walked away.

That day, Aaron nodded at him, a slight frown on his face. “Didn’t practice end a bit ago?”

“Had to talk to someone about some stuff,” Andrew said as he tugged on his jersey, eager to get out of his sweat-soaked gear.

“Oh.”  Aaron glanced at the stack of envelopes in his arms as if considering something before he huffed. “Everything set for your pampered rock star rehab?”

Andrew rolled his eyes as he gave his brother the finger. “Yes.”

Aaron looked as if he was struggling not to smile (or drop some of the envelopes). “Let’s hope they don’t mix you up with one of the patients in there for a psych evaluation. We’ll never see you again, then.”

“Fuck off,” Andrew told him without any heat. “And bring back the good chocolates with the alcohol in them.”

“Sure I will, they’ll just all be for me,” Aaron taunted as he walked away.

Why couldn’t Andrew be an only child?

Why couldn’t he have a ‘get out of mass homicide’ card; when he joined Nathaniel and Jean in the dining hall, Federov, Johnson and several other assholes let out loud catcalls over their ‘quickie’. Andrew took one look at the too-blank look on his soulmate’s face then the barely suppressed delight on Jean’s and inwardly sighed. “I’m not a big fish.” Nor was he a rabbit.

Nathaniel eyed him up and down as if mentally deciding how best to fillet him. “Not gonna stop me from removing your spine in one piece while you’re still breathing.”

“Guess you didn’t do a good job, did you?” Jean taunted before he sipped his green tea. “Need to work on your stamina, yes?”

“Fuck you,” Andrew said with a wide grin as he eyed his yet again healthy (meaning bland and disgusting) dinner.

“I thought you got it all out of your system for the day.”

“Enough,” Nathaniel called out as he snatched the green apple from Andrew’s tray (he was more than welcome to have it, especially if it got him to stop threatening bodily harm). “Or I’ll gut you both.”

Andrew and Jean snorted at the threat, but focused on eating (choking down their food) regardless. As soon as they were done, they went to the backliners’ room to study for their upcoming finals; Andrew’s were crammed into the next three days, while Jean and Nathaniel had the rest of the week. Normally, Andrew wasn’t concerned about his grades, but the Ravens had to maintain a certain GPA as part of their ‘perfect’ image. Even Nathaniel, who was still in high school and taking online classes (and was expected to pursue a pro career, just like Jean), couldn’t let his grades slip past a certain point.

The next couple days were a busy blur for Andrew, were rushing from one final to the next amidst practices and study sessions. Despite the hectic schedule, he did make the time to reinforce an important fact with a few Ravens such as Federov: he would only be gone for a short while, and at no point during his absence should they dare assume that Nathaniel was fair game. There were some dented lockers, broken noses and black eyes by the time he was done reminding the bastards of that fact, but everyone could still play Exy so Riko and Tetsuji couldn’t bitch (too much).

“I don’t know why they let you get away with it and not me,” Nathaniel grumbled while he watched Andrew pack a duffel bag with a few personal items; he’d finished his last final that morning and would be driven to the rehab clinic in another ten minutes by Akagi.

“Because I’m universally adored.” Andrew narrowed his eyes and batted aside the pair of socks he’d just dropped into the bag which his soulmate had picked up and thrown at him. “Not nice. See, that’s why they don’t let you get away with shit.”

“I think you’re being checked in for your lying problem.” Nathaniel sat perched on the edge of Andrew’s bed, his expression guarded.

“What lying problem?” When Nathaniel didn’t say anything, Andrew zipped the bag closed and dared to reach out to lift his soulmate’s chin to make their eyes meet. “I don’t lie to you.” Not about anything important.

Nathaniel was quiet for a few seconds, then he nibbled on his bottom lip as doubt clouded his pale eyes. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Andrew breathed out as he stroked his thumb along his soulmate’s tattooed cheek (he wanted to stroke it along that abused full lip, to pull Nathaniel toward him and- no, not yet). “How could I possibly live without the wonderful tofu dinners here?”

That made Nathaniel smile. “See, there you go, lying again.”

Andrew grinned as he (reluctantly) let go then grabbed his bag. “Don’t do anything too stupid while I’m gone, sweetpea.”

“Hey! What makes you think I’m going to do anything stupid at all?”

Andrew merely hummed as he left his room, which made Nathaniel growl in such an adorable manner.

His soulmate caught up and walked beside him as he went to find Akagi. “So, uhm, are you going to tell me what really A/B/O means before you go?” Nathaniel asked, his expression hopeful.

“Absolutely badass optometrists,” Andrew ‘lied’, and inwardly delighted over the insults his soulmate hurled at him; he savored the image of Nathaniel with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, certain it would make the next couple weeks bearable.

While the Mountain Springs Restorative Clinic (‘restorative’, what a joke) looked very nice with its (now dormant) gardens, water fountains, ponds and other features which probably appealed to a more select clientele, Andrew (as expected) spent most of his visit miserable as hell as he went through a sped-up detox program, withdrawing from a drug in a fraction of the time as normally recommended.

He didn’t care if it felt as if he’d thrown up his entire digestive system at least four times, that his bones had turned into molten glass, that acid ate through his nerves and insects had set up a colony inside his head… he just wanted the damn drug gone. The first day he woke up and didn’t feel a need to take a new dose made all the suffering worthwhile (even if he felt like utter shit otherwise).

Upon his release after the new year, he was weak as hell, clean, minus ten pounds and instructed not to participate in practice for a week. Akagi didn’t say anything to him as he climbed into the black SUV, just gave him a polite nod in acknowledgement, and off they went on the almost thirty-minute drive back to Edgar Allan. He found himself anxious to return to campus, which he told himself had more to do with leaving the clinic behind and not because he was worried about a certain smart-mouthed soulmate.

Andrew powered back on his phone to check his messages, which were mostly from Aaron and Nicky, wishing him a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year (and a couple ‘you still alive?’ texts). Toward the end, there was one from Aaron asking ‘wtf is going on with ur team?’, which didn’t make any sense.

Then Andrew got to the text from Ben, which basically said that Nathaniel was all right. Something cold jolted through him as he pulled up the search browser and typed in ‘EA Ravens’: among the top returned results were several articles about Kevin Day being injured in a skiing accident while on vacation with Riko Moriyama.

(There was no use in pretending that he wasn’t concerned as hell about Nathaniel anymore.)

*******

No, I wouldn’t subject Andrew to Proust (I think a couple people were worried about that) - this Andrew is basically on Riko’s ‘good side’ right now so there wasn’t a need. Also, not quite emotionless Andrew off the drugs (he’s not entirely unaffected) since he gets off them a bit earlier, has less trauma while on them (no Drake or Proust) and there’s Nathaniel/his soulmate there.

I think that’s it? There’s probably just a few more parts left to this.

[writingkeepsmewhole]

The Mark

This is a new fic I’m starting. I know I have a ton of them I need to finish but I’ve been working on this one for a while and I like it so here ya go.

Fic Summary: AU where everyone is born with half a mark on their body. The other half being on their mates body. 

Dean Winchester x OC Amora Black

Warnings: Blood I think that’s it.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

I don’t remember the first bruise that I got from Him but my parents said that I was very young. Barely two.

It was normal for bruises to appear without knowing why. Everyone shares the pain of their mates. Their other half. Someone who was born at the exact moment as you. 

We were all born with a Mark. It is completely unique. But it was only half of it. Your mate baring the other half. It only becomes a whole when you find them.

Everyone’s Mark was in a different place. My best Friend Eva’s was behind her right ear. 

You didn’t know who your mate was or when you would meet them. Or if you would ever meet them. The only thing you did know was when they got hurt, their wounds showing on your body as much as theirs. As if you were the one that got hurt. But there was never any pain you would feel it happen but it wouldn't hurt. You could feel their emotions as well but that was only if you were close to them. Like in the same home or town. 

I didn’t know who my mate was or what he looked like. I only knew that he got hurt way more than normal. My whole frame was littered with bruises and scars.

I would sometimes wake up to a blooded bed from Him being cut, even stabbed. 

I remember being twelve I was hit so hard in the back I fell over with cracked ribs. 

I quickly got used to them, my parents friends stopped asking questions about if they were abusing me.

All in all I grew up normal, happy. 

Walking down the hall I stopped seeing my sister Kayla poking her palm with a pin

“What are you doing?” I asked leaning on her door frame crossing my arms.

“Making him pay for not being in the same town as me. I mean what’s the point of having a Mate if you don’t even know who it is!” She says throwing the pin down and turning to face me.

“Well Mom says we will meet them when we need them most.”

“Yeah well mom lived next door to her Mate so what does she know.”

“Yeah but Mom didn’t know who he was until she saw his Mark.”

“Yeah I’m glad mine is not on my foot, that's kinda hard to tell who is your other half.” She says looking at the half swirl on her right wrist.

“Yeah or on your chest.” 

“Yeah and Aunt Jenna has it on her hip.”

“Yeah so I say you are pretty lucky.” I say moving from my spot and walking to her.

“Now please be nice to your other half he might -”

“Ow!” She says looking down at her thigh it showing a red mark as if being pinched.

“He pinched me!”

“I think you deserved that one.” I say laughing softly.

“No I didn’t.” She says looking up at me.

I watch as her face changes to light worry.

“What is it?” 

She didn’t have to tell me because I soon felt the heat running down my arm from my shirt

Sighing I looked to see an inch long cut into my shoulder. 

“I swear I wish I knew what he did everyday.” I say moving out of the preteens room and into the bathroom.

“Amora!” Yelled my best friend from down stairs.

She had been my best friend since first grade me sharing my lunch with her one day because she forgot hers. I still remember her toothy grin making her caramel eyes brighten. 

“Up here!” I yelled back pulling my shirt off and laying it on the counter.

I look for a moment to let my eyes travel over the many scars and bruises covering my torso. 

Reaching up I touched the Mark on my chest. It's blackness popping off my pale skin. I have stared at it for hours and have no idea what it could be. It’s smooth thick lines wrapping around each other right under my collarbone. I reach up and trace it with my finger tip forgetting about my shoulder for a moment. 

“Hey-, What happened to you?” Eva asked, coming into the bathroom.

“What do you think happened?”

“Him again?” 

“Well I don’t just go around stabbing myself do I?” I ask pulling stuff from the cabinets to patch myself up.

“Do you ever wonder what he does?”

“Everyday.” 

“Maybe he is in the army or something.” She says hopping on the countertop beside me.

“Yeah because people in the army get stabbed or hurt daily.”

“It’s back to everyday now?”

“Yeah after the shot to the stomach healed it started back up.” I say throwing away the blooded paper towels.

“He is one tough puppy.” She says making me laugh since I have never heard her say a swear word.

“Tell me about it.”

“Hmm let's see something that is dangerous.”

“The Mob!” She quickly says a large grin on her face as if she figured it out.

“Eva people in the mob got tattoos last I checked I didn’t have any.” I say knowing that me and Him share everything put on our bodies.

“Your right. Hmm…”

“Will you stop trying to guess I’ll find out when I meet the guy.” I say finishing wrapping my new wound and cleaning everything up.

Throwing my shirt back on I pull my raven hair out of it. 

“Yeah but what if you end up like my mom's aunt and never find him.”

“Then I’ll die a virgin.” I say watching her face contort in disgust. 

Laughing, I move to go down stairs, my laughter growing seeing Kayla pinching her leg.

“What…”

“Don’t ask, I think that is her form of flirting.” I say holding up my hand. 

Feeling a hard hit to my side I grabbed the wall to keep from falling over.

“Dude will you just take a break for a day.” I say groaning, feeling the impact of it but the pain quickly disparaging.

“Maybe he is like your sister and is just trying to get your attention.”

“Yeah well he needs to calm his little hot self down because he is gonna end up killing himself before we are thirty.” I say holding my side and walking toward the door.

I grabbed my umbrella seeing the rain hit the window in the door. Walking outside I held it so we both would not get wet, Eva putting her hood up anyway.

“Well hopeful you’ll make it to twenty-five” She says her eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh gosh are you gonna drag me to the ball?”

“Duh! Besides it’s a law you have to go!” She says smiling at me.

“Yeah and it’s also a law to not be with anyone other than your mate and last I checked the police around here are not very good at holding their end of the deal up on that one.” I say knowing the crap that goes on behind closed doors.

“Yeah that’s true but we all can’t be as strong as you for holding out for their mate ya know.” She says a sad look in her eyes, her mind most likely on her father.

“Yeah well he lost her, he needed a way to cope. Deal with his emptiness.” I say knowing her mother died giving birth to her.

The faded scars on her forearms showing how much she blamed herself at one time.

“I wonder if He likes the rain.” She says after a moment or two of us just walking.

“My He or your He?” I ask looking down at her ebony eyes.

“Either.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I like the rain, so I don’t think he hates the rain.” I say my mind wandering to the other things he might like. Never really thinking about it before.

“I think my He does. I have just felt calm for the past few days.”

“Well maybe he is closer than you think.” I say smiling at her watching her eyes light up.

“Maybe.”

Walking into the gym I threw my hair up into a ponytail, my ashy eyes looking at the two idiots fighting in the middle of the ring.

“I hate this place.” Eva says from behind me.

“Yeah I know we need to be in shape but why do we need to learn to punch people in the face?” I ask looking down at her.

“It’s mandatory so we can defend ourselves. Besides you are good at it so why are you complaining.”

“I’m only good at it because He is.” I say that being the only thing that made sense to me. Since no one in my family could take a hit. Them having very low pain tolerance.

“Well look who it is.” Says the one person I can’t stand.

I look up to see Brian, Sandy’s arm wrapped around his arm.

“Look Eva, it's the only pair that has to share a brain. How sad they can’t think for themselves.” I say watching as Sandy tries to take a step toward me.

“Knock it off!” Yells Johns. Our trainer. 

“Black, Peterson, work it out in the ring now.” He says pointing at the ring behind him.

“I promise to be nice this time.” I say smiling up at him.

Walking into the ring I lift my arms over my head stretching. Hearing loud steps running at me I quickly turn my heel making contact with his face.

I know it hurts because I hear him groan in pain mixed with Sandy’s own cry.

“You're gonna pay for that!” He says holding the red mark on his cheek.

“Oh I’m so scared.” I say smirking, feeling my heart rate pick up with adrenaline.

“Black not in the face!” Coach yells.

“Sorry.” I say looking at him.

I knew that was a bad idea when the breath was knocked out of me. My back slamming into the mat on the floor.

“Ow.” I groan out through my teeth.

Ignoring Coach’s rule I jerk my head forward slamming it into Brian’s nose hearing another cry from Sandy.

Using Brian’s worry for her I push him off me and stand up quickly.

Feeling something drip on my face I wipe my forehead.

“You got blood on my forehead.” I say looking at the crimson red on my fingers.

“Amora one more hit to the face and you’ll get extra work this week.” Coach says, helping Brian up.

“Sorry I saw a shot and took it.” I say shrugging knowing he would never do that.

 I was his best female fighter hence why I was fighting Brain and not Sandy.

“Amora are you okay?” Eva’s small voice fills my ears making me look at her.

“Yeah why?”

“Your arm.” She says pointing to it.

“Black out of the ring you're injured, you to Peterson.”

Sighing I walk to the locker room to once again patch myself up.

“I felt it this time.” I say talking about the blood looking at Eva threw the mirror, as I pulled my sleeve down.

“Yeah well maybe you hit it or something.” She says hearing the worry in my voice.

“Gosh I wish I knew what he was doing right now.” I say starting to clean myself up.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: VERY graphic spousal and child abuse, emotional and physical. Please be advised and don't walk into this chapter unless you're ready.

A lot of mothers and daughters in this chap. Sorry it was so raw but it's been building for a long time. Next chapter will be dealing with a lot of fallout but will at least be MUCH brighter. See you soon guys, stay safe out there!

=Chapter 20

“You’ve got a lotta nerve coming back here after the way I ran you off.”

“Please!” Weiss pleaded in a hoarse whisper; it was the best she could manage. “D-don’t hurt me! Yang… I’m only here to-”

“I told you before, and I’ll tell you one last time: I don’t care. Yang’s business is Yang’s business. My house means I get to say who stays and who goes. And you go. Now.”

For a moment, she was completely ready to give into Raven’s demands. After all, who could argue with that logic? This was someone else’s home and she was trespassing if the owner didn’t want her there. On the other hand, she was always going to be on Yang’s side - always, and it was far more important that she remain behind to show her support than to be cautious.

“I can’t,” she answered honestly.

“Can’t? Interesting word.” She leaned in closer, until Weiss could smell the hard liquor on her breath. See every pore on her noble nose. “You certainly can’t go if I kill you.”

“Can… you stop choking me so we can… talk like civilized people?”

Raven blinked in mild surprise. “What?”

“I just… think it’s easier… for me to talk without your hand… there.” Her own drifted up to tap the back of Raven’s. Her words sounded stupid to her own ears, but it was the only thing she could think of; talking was so much harder with her air supply cut off, and her head starting to spin.

“Fine.” The hand relaxed slightly, but stayed where it was. “Give me one good reason not to put my fist through your face.���

Clearing her throat and swallowing hard - now that she could again - Weiss tried to scrape some words together in her dizzy brain. After a second or two, when she could sense Raven was getting a little impatient, she squeaked, “Yang!”

“What about Yang? I told you, I don’t care who she sleeps with or hangs around with, as long as I don’t have to deal with any of it. You being here breaks that rule.”

“But… she’s hurt, and I… I just want to help take care of-”

“I can handle that.”

“You hurt her yourself.” Her face became more incensed, frown deepening and eyes flashing dangerously, so Weiss went on, “You did! I… I don’t know, maybe you didn’t mean to, okay? B-but I’ve seen the bruises! Just because of her grades! And Yang already has suffered enough bruises for one day, so if that’s how you want to ‘take care’ of her, th-then I think I have something else to offer! And that I should stay!”

This time, Raven did shake her and slam her back against the wall. “Idiot! That’s my little girl in there - you know nothing! Do you understand me?! Who the hell are you, anyway? I’m trying to keep her from ruining her life! Or getting taken in by pretty faces like yours! If she gets her heart broken, her ribs broken, she can do it on her own damn time and in her own damn place! Not my place!”

The terror was very real, but Weiss gulped and squeaked, “I don’t want to break anything! I just w-want to help!”

“You can help by never darkening my doorstep again!”

“Raven.”

Neither of them had heard Kali come in. Weiss was half-afraid she would be aiming a gun at the other mother, but she wasn’t; she simply had her hands on her hips and looked as if she were disciplining Blake instead of talking to an old friend in her own home.

“Don’t.”

“You know this isn’t right.”

“It’s right because it’s my house. Your opinions don’t matter.”

“She’s in high school!” Kali hissed back at her, eyes flashing dangerously. “And she’s really very sweet, and you’re manhandling her like she’s a home invader! When did you lose all remaining decency?”

The pure fury was increasing, even if it was no longer purely because of Weiss. “You don’t get a say anymore. The time when I had to listen to what you have to say, you telling me who to marry, what to do… that’s long gone. So I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Mrs. Xiao Long?” Weiss asked.

“Branwen,” she amended immediately - fiercely.

“Branwen! I… please, I’ll never come back after we get Yang set up, if you’ll… if you can help her rest and heal. I promise.”

The offer seemed to catch her off guard. “You’ll leave Yang alone?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t come back to your house.” When her eyes narrowed, she went on, “If I didn’t let my own father slapping me across the face stop me from seeing Yang, then what makes you think I’ll stop for you?”

Kali hissed “Weiss!” in a warning tone. But they were both interrupted by a gruff bark of a noise from Raven. At first she thought she was coughing, but when she focused on her it turned out she was laughing. Cruelly, darkly, but at least it was a laugh; it proved the woman was still capable of that.

“You really do have a lotta nerve.” Her head tilted to one side, as if trying to appraise Weiss from a new angle. “Old man smacked you to get you to stop dating trash, huh?”

“To get me to stop dating Yang,” she amended firmly. “Because he doesn’t know the Dragons.”

“And you do, huh?” Shaking her head, she finally let go of Weiss and turned to stride across the room. Her eyes were fixated down at the remnants of the bottle she had destroyed. “A couple of weeks on the wild side of Vale and you think you know something about the Dragons. Probably all of it wrong. But fine, fine. I’ll agree to your terms. Stay out of my house and you two can do whatever you want. It’s her business. That all you wanted?”

Weiss sighed. “It isn’t. I would want to… try getting to know my girlfriend’s family. But if I can’t have that, I guess I’ll accept it.” She brushed down the front of her blouse, trying to unwrinkle the fabric and get rid of some of the dust from the mines. “I hope Yang enjoys her soup.”

Then she strode for the door. Kali moved as if to stop her, but the way she simply let her hand drop said she thought better of the idea. Raven made no such moves.

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

She had been walking for at least thirty minutes when the car caught up to her. The time didn’t seem to have any meaning. Maybe she was deluding herself. As far as she was concerned, Yang was more important to her than all the irate parents in Vale - as crazy as that still was to her. But there were quite a lot of odds stacked against them. Should she think about putting a stop to everything to keep them from destroying each other? Before talking to Raven, she wouldn’t have said so, but now she could no longer be absolutely certain anymore. That she loved Yang, yes. That they belonged together…

Maybe not. Maybe God, or the universe, or whatever decided the fates of mere mortals had decided they didn’t get to be happy. Not happy together, at least.

“Weiss!” Kali shouted out the window. “Get in the car!”

The girl shrugged her leather-clad shoulders. “What’s the point? My parents hate me. Yang’s hate me, too. Salem probably just thinks I’m a pain in the behind, and asked you to follow me around to make sure I don’t mess anything up. Or if I do, that she’ll know about it. So what’s the difference if I just keep walking until I fall off Glenn Bluffs?”

The car pulled a little ahead and up to the curb. It gave Kali plenty of time to get out of the car and walk around to face her, waiting with hands on hips. When Weiss began to turn as if to head a different way, she tutted loudly.

“Just leave me alone!” she snapped angrily. “Why do you care if I mess up? I’m nobody to you! Just some spoiled rich girl who… who doesn’t… who has no idea what she…”

The arms around her startled her - she hadn’t even seen Kali move. But this time, she didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t want this strange woman behaving like the mother she wished she had. Her limbs pushed, she struggled, but Kali didn’t let go for anything.

“I’m not Blake,” she breathed harshly, voice tight. “You don’t have to nursemaid me.”

“Quiet now, Weiss. It’s okay. Nobody asked me to take a liking to you; I did that all on my own. I’m not going to abandon you.”

They were both silent for a few seconds. Weiss stopped struggling and whispered, “Stop being so nice. Just… go away. Let me go back to my world, and you can stay in yours, a-and… and Yang can find someone who isn’t so pathetic. And who can understand her, and who her mother won’t hate.”

Kali laughed. “We all have a long wait for that. Listen…” Stepping back, she held onto Weiss’s shoulders with both hands. “In this life, it’s foolish to let anyone else tell you what you want. Or when to want it, or how to want it. If you love Yang, then love her. Forget about what some dried up old husk of a woman shouts at you.”

“Goodness,” Weiss breathed in slight shock at the insult. “Those really are sour grapes, aren’t they?”

“A bit. But don’t worry about Raven’s unrequited feelings from the pages of history. That’s not what matters right now.”

“So it’s really okay?” Something in her was desperate to believe Kali’s words, to trust her. Even though she had known her even less time than she knew Yang, she wanted to put her faith in someone again. “To… to try this relationship even if everyone else thinks it’s a mistake?”

“Not everyone,” she whispered with a fond smile. Her hand cupped Weiss’s cheek. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a real catch.”

“Are you going to start chasing me around the car like you did around the kitchen?” But Kali only laughed, so she smiled. “No… I don’t think you ever meant any of that. You just wanted to trick me into admitting my feelings to Yang, didn’t you?”

One of her amber eyes winked. “A little of both. But I mostly want you to have your heart’s desire, Weiss. We both know who that is. Just don’t let your desire to make everyone happy keep you from making yourself happy. You and Yang fit together really well; I’ve witnessed it first-hand. Don’t fret over the details.”

“Well… okay.” They exchanged a smile, even if Weiss’s was a little more nervous. “But how am I supposed to do that if neither of us can even go to the other one’s house?”

“I’ll keep working on Raven,” she sighed. “I think I was getting her to admit that the house wouldn’t literally crumble if she let you stop by now and then. Especially if I promised not to come back,” she added in a quiet murmur.

As she was escorted toward the car, Weiss asked, “Oh? Was this after I left?”

“It was. And I checked in with Yang very briefly, told her not to push herself, and saw that she had eaten a little of her soup. Honestly, I think Raven isn’t as bad as you feared. Not an ideal parent, but…”

Her arms folded over her chest as she slid into the passenger’s seat. “She hit her! I don’t care why, she still hit her. That’s not acceptable.”

“Oh, I agree with you; I even felt sick on the rare occasion I had to spank Blake’s behind, much less ever do anything worse. No parent should ever cause their own child physical harm. But… Yang isn’t my child, and it’s hard for me to pass judgment. Lord knows enough people could tell me I’m a monster for letting my girl follow me into the Dragons.”

“You’re not a monster!” Her hand flashed over to perch on Kali’s forearm. “You’re… a really nice woman, a-and I’m lucky to know you!”

That earned her a soft smile. “You really are. And you could know me better if you play your cards right…”

Rolling her eyes, she retrieved her hand and sat back again. “So when do I get the reading material?”

“The what?”

“Well, clearly all the Dragons have learned the same list of terrible come-ons. There has to be a book.”

That got Kali laughing so hard she almost ran a stop sign. At least it elevated their dreary mood, if nothing else.

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

By the time Kali and Pyrrha made the “exchange” and she was on her way back to Atlas Heights, the poor little rich girl felt at least vaguely better about the situation. Sure, nothing had been truly solved, but her fleeting crisis of faith had passed. She wanted to do whatever was best for Yang. If that meant leaving her, she would, but Kali’s words went a long way toward reassuring her that Yang needed her as much as she needed Yang. If that was true, then all that was left was to find a way to be together that wouldn’t destroy their entire microcosm.

“You’re sure you are alright?” Pyrrha asked as she took back the makeup puff.

“Yes.” Weiss checked herself yet again in the mirror; the heavy makeup would no doubt be obvious to her father, but it covered the light scratches she’d received while spelunking into the sinkhole. “Anything else?”

“The jacket,” she chuckled. Weiss smiled sheepishly and shrugged out of it. “That’s becoming a second skin. I didn’t think you liked it so much.”

As she stashed it, she said, “I do. It’s warm and comfortable. Even though the giant dragon on the back is ornamental, it’s very functional otherwise.” Then she sighed and smiled at her. “Thank you again for your help. I’m sorry to have to keep asking this of you when it’s-”

“I’m fine,” she laughed with an easy smile. “Though I worry about you running around with those women, I know now they aren’t… quite as bad as they seem. And if you and Yang are truly in love, I don’t think anything should stand in your way.”

“You and Kali both.” They shared a grin. “Alright, I’ll take up less of your day. Thanks again.”

Even as Weiss was getting out to walk down the street, Pyrrha yelled, “It’s fine! Don’t worry!” It only made her smile wider.

When she walked into the house, luckily no one was in the near vicinity. She was worried they would all be waiting for her in the living room again, since the sun was going down and it was getting too late to be out. Therefore, she was able to slip up to her room and quickly change into a dress her father found more “dignified for a young lady”, as he always put it on the rare occasions she wore any type of slacks.

The instant she emerged from her room, she was startled to see Whitley standing there. His smile was a sly as a fox's, as usual, but she decided to ignore him and keep walking.

“You missed dinner, dear sister.”

“Have I?” Though she didn't much feel like it, her smile was sweet. “I've already eaten while I was out with Pyrrha.”

“Indeed. Probably nothing but ice cream.” His airy sigh was so similar to their father's that Weiss could barely suppress a giggle. But she did and made her way into the drawing room.

And froze just inside the door.

“Ahhhh, there you are,” Jacques Schnee announced as he turned his head very slightly from where he had been gazing out the window. Her mother was slumped on the floor, one shoe off and one shoe on, gazing into nothingness. She honestly couldn't tell if he had struck her or if she had simply fallen because she was too inebriated to stay on the chaise lounge.

“Father.”

“Weiss.” Smile tight, he fully faced her, hands in the small of his back. “How was your day?”

The question caught her a little off guard. Since when did her father care about her days? “Umm… just fine. How about yours?”

“Oh, I've had better. For instance, I much prefer days on which I don't have to confront my upstart of a daughter about her constant lying to this family.”

“What?” The dread that began to pool in the bottom of her stomach was strong, but she tried to keep the reactions from creeping into her face. It wouldn't do to show weakness.

“I've just had a talk with Captain Ironwood,” he went on as he rolled a white-gloved hand in the air, embellishing with gesture as much as he did with word choice. “He told me a very interesting tale. Seems he thought it rather strange that a delightful young girl like Miss Nikos should spend almost her entire afternoon all alone in Vytal Park, reading instead of enjoying the company of gentlemen callers. It struck him as odd after the first few times he spotted her there on his rounds.”

Her alibi was gone. This was a distressing development indeed! What else could she say she was doing? To give herself time to think, she answered, “Isn't it good for a young girl to enrich her mind? What's so wrong with reading?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. However, it does raise the question… where have you been all day instead of the usual haunts?”

“I've… made another friend recently. Ruby Rose?” Maybe Ruby wouldn't be so keen to lie for her, but it was the only thing she could think of offhand. Hopefully she would have time to ask her on the following school day. “Of course, Pyrrha knows her, but she wanted some quiet time today. And far be it from me to force her to come along!”

Her father was nodding, as if he had accepted everything she said. But she knew better than to believe that. “Yes, I see. Ruby Rose, is it? That's very… convenient. A brand new friend whom I've never heard of before.”

“I'm sorry, Father, but I don't know what you-”

“How stupid do you really think I am?” he hissed at her in a dangerous tone, eyes flashing now to betray the true fury that had been hiding beneath the mask of calm all along. “As If there really is such a person! You've been out seeing that Chinese girl again, haven't you?”

After a long pause, Weiss somehow found the courage within herself to say, “I thought this would make you happy. After all, you already think I'm doing some kind of unpleasant thing with Pyrrha, though I'm really not sure what. Isn't it good that we didn't spend all day together?”

“Don't act so smug and innocent. Perhaps you weren't doing any such thing with the Nikos girl; I don't truly believe it, but I'm willing to entertain the notion. But we both know you're still sneaking around behind our backs, and that is simply unacceptable.”

“Father, please,” she attempted in a pleading tone, taking a few steps closer to her parents. Not that her mother was responsive at all; she didn't even seem to be aware that anyone else had entered the room. “I'm absolutely fine. I promise! There's no need to worry about me so much.”

Her hope had been that framing things in that manner would perhaps soothe his ego, making him think that his concerns actually mattered to her. That hope was dashed when he jerked her roughly forward by the shoulder so they could stare directly into each other's eyes.

“You're still lying to me. Can you even tell when you're lying anymore? Just admit it: you're doing immoral things with one of those girls. Maybe with all of them.”

“What?” she gasped, but her shock was so fake that she didn't even believe it herself. “Father, I- where is this coming from? What kinds of immoral things?”

His chuckle was so cruel that she flinched away from it. “Oh, good try, you little minx. Fantastic. But I'm not playing games with you anymore. Bend over this chaise lounge.”

Suddenly, her blood ran cold. “Excuse me?”

“You're acting like a child, and I'm about to treat you like a child. If you can't own up to your mistakes like an adult then you don't deserve anything less.” As he spoke, he began to take off his belt.

“Father! I'm a woman, and I'm eighteen years old! Y-you can't-”

“Do as I say, young lady!”

For a fleeting moment, she looked toward her mother for some kind of support, for any kind. At least recognition that she was listening and she cared. No such support came. Turning back toward him, she stood defiantly and said, “No.”

“You will do as I-”

“No, Father. You can punish me all you like - forbid me to see my friends, tell me I'm doing all these terrible things that I'm not doing… even call me awful names. But I'm through letting you strike me anymore.”

It had been a mistake. She could feel it in her bones, even before the belt lashed across the side of her face. An accompanying sting told her that it had broken the skin. Weiss only had a moment to stare up at him in sheer horror before he was speaking again.

“I wasn't asking you to do it, you ungrateful tramp,” he snarled as he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to bend over the furniture. Unfortunately for Weiss, the man was stronger than he looked. “I did not want to do this, but you have forced my hand. If you won't let me help you expunge your inner demons, I'll beat them out of you!”

The hand reared back, and Wiss felt her entire body clench. This couldn’t be happening. She wanted to run away, but the hand in her hair kept her held fast; she was frozen in this terrible moment with her father about to lash her with a leather strap. Was there no justice left in the world?

“HELP!” she couldn’t resist shouting. Maybe Whitley would surprise her by doing something. Maybe a neighbour would hear. Maybe-

The loudness of the noise was almost worse than the pain itself. Hot shame flooded her face, and her breath stopped fast. He was going to pay for this. That voice in the back of her mind somehow sounded like Yang; she tried to hold onto that. Tried to picture her sweet Yang, the noble Dragon she was weathering this mistreatment for.

Or was she? No. She was doing it for herself. Yang might be worth it, but this was not about their relationship. This was between her and her father, who couldn’t let his daughter be her own woman.

“Had enough?” he asked harshly. But Weiss couldn’t speak. He roughly shook her by the head. “WELL?!”

A weak voice from nearby breathed, “Stop… my little girl…”

“That’s enough out of you,” he snarled down at his wife. “If you weren’t such a disappointment, perhaps we both could have prevented this from ever happening!”

“But you shouldn’t…” Her voice faded. Weiss couldn’t even see her from that vantage point, but had a feeling she was still lying face down.

“I’ve given you everything,” Jacques snarled - before striking her across the backside again. This time, Weiss let out a brief yip of pure agony, then sucked in a shuddering, snivelling breath. “And you repay me by throwing it all away! Do you think I haven’t heard of the Dragons? That no one else has heard about the drag race that took place in the ruins of Mountain Glenn? No one has seen you driving around with some black-haired woman? Who is she, Weiss?”

“F-Father, I… I c-can’t-”

“ANSWER!” Another slap of the strap, and Weiss felt she might wet herself again but she was determined not to give into that urge. She would be stronger. The first two lashes had been so shocking she couldn’t even separate the sting itself from the added pain of it on the healing scar; he was going to open the skin again, when it had finally started to heal over!

“Stop! I don’t w-want this! Stop it, please!”

His arm reared back; she felt the movements. This strike was going to be even harder. “Then tell me.”

“NO! I’M DONE LISTENING TO YOU!”

“Fine.” The arm rocketed down-

And never connected. There was a long moment in which Weiss sniffled and sobbed, clawing at the fabric of the chaise lounge as if she really had been struck. Then she slowly ceased as it sank in that nothing was happening. Turning around seemed to take forever, especially with the fist clenched around her ponytail, but she eventually managed.

Willow Schnee had never looked so furious in her life. The look matched that of her husband, who was both glaring and looking incensed at this sudden betrayal. Her arm was extended over her head from her kneeling position, hand closed around his forearm to keep the next blow from landing.

“Well,” he breathed, to give himself a moment to find his words. Then he snarled, “Look who’s awake.”

“I’ve been awake this whole time,” she snapped at him, slowly pushing to her feet. “You made an assumption, and that assumption was wrong.”

His brow knitted as he also stood, trying to keep her from gaining the upper hand. “What?”

“You probably don’t even remember striking her a couple of weeks ago. You promised me- no.” She shook her head so hard the messy silvery bun at the nape of her neck bobbed back and forth. “You promised all of us that it would never happen again. She came to me to complain, and I was deep into the wine the way I… I have been all too often.”

“Mommy?” Weiss breathed in sheer disbelief. She could hardly believe this was the same woman!

“This is absurd,” he snapped back. “We have a delinquent daughter, Willow. You have the audacity to hold me to that old standard when I’m struggling to keep her from-”

“So when she came to me, wanting to cry and be supported but seeing me so pathetic…” Her head shook again, eyes closed as she suppressed her own self-hatred before glaring at him again. “The entire next morning, I thought about taking my own life, Jacques. Ending it all. I never meant to become like this, and I wanted to forget what you’ve done to me. Still, I knew if I did that, if I died… I couldn’t be there for my girls ever again. To protect them. You did this to Winter, too, when she declared she wasn’t interested in the family business - and she was strong enough to push back. Weiss has always been more delicate, and you still treat her like this?”

Even through wincing at the slight jab at her character, Weiss saw that her father was starting to back down, though he would not entirely. “Well, well. Isn’t this lovely! You’ve been lying, too - lying about being your usual saturated self. Spying on me. That’s the trouble with women, isn’t it? Never can tell when they’re being honest with you. Maybe they simply aren’t capable.”

“Spying on you,” she affirmed through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t have to! I shouldn’t have to fill wine bottles with grape juice just to fool you into underestimating me – to ensure you’re not abusing our daughter! Well… you’re not going to hurt any of them anymore. Put the belt away, Jacques.”

“I’ve had enough,” he said in a low, dangerous tone, eyes still flinty and hard. He jerked his forearm but she didn’t let go, so he began to shove and tug until she did - but she stumbled into him, and he reacted instinctively, pushing her to the floor.

“Mommy!” Weiss gasped, heart lurching as she watched her poor mother sprawl out on the oriental rug.

“Look what you’ve done now. Look where you are! Do you feel proud of yourself, Willow? Glad that we’ve come to this point, all because you couldn’t handle rearing our daughters to be fine young women, instead of… of cross-dressers and freaks?!”

Cross-dressers? Did he mean because Weiss occasionally wore trousers? Or because Winter was in the Women’s Army Corps?

Glaring up at him with twin daggers for eyes, her mother snarled, “Go to hell.”

His arm reared back to strike his own wife. It had been a long time since he did that, as well - but the situation with the Dragons seemed to be pushing him past his breaking point. For a brief instant, Weiss felt responsible. She wished she hadn’t ever talked to Yang. Wished she could be a perfect little girl, so Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t fight anymore. Wished her sister was here, so she could have someone on their side - or Kali, or anyone at all so she wouldn’t feel so scared.

But the first crack of leather on the skin of her mother’s raised forearm, her yelp of pain, snapped her out of the reverie. Rushing forward, she wrapped her arms around his, screaming, “Stop! You can’t!”

“I’ll do whatever I want to you traitors!” he bellowed, incensed. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to reach the arm with the strap in it, so he was easily able to lash her across her side. There was nothing else she could think to do but sink her teeth into his wrist. “AH! Traitors and animals! You’re insane! Well so be it!”

This time, when he pushed her to the floor, it was with intent. Weiss felt real terror gaping up at the towering figure, his shoe pushing into the center of her chest. This was really going to hurt. The belt dangled from his hands as he took aim, tried to figure out how to crack it like a whip just right so that it reached her skin.

“I’ll teach you a lesson you will never… ever forget again.”

Those were the last words he was able to get out before Willow brought an expensive vase down upon the crown of his head. The shattering of pottery was loud enough to echo through the entire house, and probably outside. As he sagged, she was just able to see the blood begin to drip down his face before he crumpled completely, sprawling on top of her.

He was right about one thing: that moment of terror, being pinned beneath her bleeding father who had been seconds from delivering painful punishment to her face, definitely taught her an unforgettable lesson. “Never trust a man again” probably wasn’t the lesson he intended, but it was the effect nonetheless.

Then her mother was heaving him off her, weaving weakly for a moment as she tried to regain her breath. She looked at Weiss, the pure adrenaline slowly giving way to worry. “Oh, Weiss… oh, my poor baby…”

“Mommy?” she whimpered, shaking all over. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry; she just felt numb. Too much had happened, and she didn’t understand everything quite yet. But then something else pushed through the fog. “Mommy, it’s really you!”

“Yes, honey! Oh…” Wrapping her arms around Weiss and pulling her to a sitting position, she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry it took me so long… I don’t know what was wrong with me. I’m so sorry!”

They were quiet for a long minute or two, trembling and clutching at each other as if they were the last two humans in the world. Despite the terror that still thundered in her heart, she couldn’t erase the gratitude. Her mother had returned to her. After so many years, sure that she would never come back from the grip of alcohol, she was here; they were together again.

Then they heard a sound from the doorway. Turning to look, they saw Whitley standing there with sheer shock in his features. “What… what have you done, Weiss?”

“Whitley… I…” She had no idea how to handle this situation.

“I’m calling the police!” he yelped, scampering away. Her mother moved as if to follow, but she trembled and fell again, clutching her head.

“Mommy? Are you okay?”

“No…” Clearing her throat, she pushed a hand into her eyes. “My head hurts. It’s… it’s been that way since I stopped drinking. I get headaches all the time now. They’re getting a little better day by day, but it’s still not… I can’t even remember what it was like to have a clear head.”

“When did you stop? I don’t…”

“It was the next day after he hit you.” Swallowing hard, she forced her eyes up to look at Weiss again, powerful shame flooding back into her face. Without the anger at her husband to mask it, Weiss could see just how deep it ran, and she had to look away rather than witness her mother in such a state. “I had been thinking so hard already about why I couldn’t stop him. Silly as it is, that confused me. Why couldn’t I lift a finger if I loved my girls? What kind of mother was I? And that day, when I poured myself another glass of wine, it all kind of… I don’t know. Fell onto me at once. I needed that drink to help me forget my failure, but it was the cause of my failure. I tried to drink it, a-and the wine tasted disgusting to me for the first time in years, so I spat it out, and… I didn’t know what else to do. Jacques asked why I did that, and I…”

Weiss sat up a little straighter, petting her hand up and down her back. “It’s okay. Just… just tell me.”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” she whispered fearfully, eyes turning to the corner. “You should. But I don’t want you to. I sound so selfish…”

“Please, I can’t! I can’t hate my mother! Tell me what he did, I… or what you did, all of it. I need to know.”

“Alright.” Swallowing hard, she whispered, “I lied. I told him I thought a bug got into the wine, and he said to try it again. With him watching, I had to finish the glass, and it tasted better, of course… but I resolved that it would be my last. I had to think of something.”

“So… you filled it with grape juice? I heard you say something like that.”

Her lips twitched into a weak smile - or something like a mockery of one. “Yes. Some ‘great scheme’ of mine. The local church helped me, actually; I carted off a bunch of wine to them, and told the priest in confidence that I wanted help to wean myself off the spirits. He agreed to help fill them with juice and cork them, so I could indulge in the ritual of drinking until I didn’t need it anymore. I… I would feel bad for lying to him, too, except it wasn’t untrue. Just wasn’t the main motivation.”

“Mommy, I love you,” she told her earnestly when she saw her face beginning to crumple again. “Please, can you hear me? I love you so much, I don’t hate you!”

“I hear you, Weiss,” she said with an easy laugh, even while tears slipped down her face. “I always heard you. Sometimes, I just couldn’t reply… or couldn’t remember what you said in the morning. But I’m sorry you ever thought I was ignoring you. I’m such an awful woman…”

Shaking her head violently, she clutched at her so tightly she was worried about hurting her. “No, I’m an awful daughter! I’ve been doing… d-doing so many bad things! Daddy was so mad!”

“Shhhh, shh. It’s alright. You aren’t an awful daughter, not at all.” There was a slight hesitation as they embraced. Then she forced herself to say, “Even if… the things your father has been saying… even if they are true.”

“What kind of things?”

“About you becoming friends with the Chinese girl. That she’s an opium fiend and might be- well, I shouldn’t like to repeat improper things.”

In that moment, all she wanted was to let them have this sweet reunion. To enjoy being in her mother’s arms again. But the truth slipped out; she needed someone to tell her she wasn’t an awful daughter. “I’m in love with her. I know it might be sinful, but it doesn’t feel like sin to me! I just… j-just want to be part of her life, and her a part of mine! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m so terrible!”

“Shhh,” she repeated, a little more desperately now. “It’s alright. We’ll figure out everything later. I’m sorry, I wanted to be there for you, but I couldn’t when… with my…” Her voice broke as she said, “I’m so weak! I was so weak for so long, and I let him hurt me, and you, and Winter and Whitley, a-and I… and I didn’t know wh-what to…”

Again, she was overcome with the sensation of having to take care of her mother, as if their roles were reversed. But at least she was herself again. She was trying. That was all Weiss could ask for, and all she had wanted for years. Maybe they could try together from now on.

[pinkrae]

Can’t fake love || Chapter 13

The return

--- Previous

“Home sweet home,” Dick sighed softly as he entered the small apartment, followed by Damian and a slightly disoriented Raven. Or what seemed to be Raven, anyway.

“Are you sure about this, Grayson?”

“This is one of my safehouses. Not Bruce’s,” he explained and turned to the girl. “No one’s gonna find you here.”

“Thank you, Richard.” She smiled weakly and made her way to the window to look at the view outside.

“Richard? Now that’s new,” he mumbled to himself, only to get an elbow in his ribs.

“She just came back from the dead, give her a break,” Damian spoke through gritted teeth, his green eyes never leaving her out of his sight. Now that she was here he didn’t think he’d ever dare to lose sight of her again. And sure, she looked a bit different. She felt different. But he was certain she was still the same person. That she was still the Raven they all knew. She simply needed to adapt to the life of the living again and it was understandable. He’d give her all the time she needed, no matter how much he wanted for things to go back to the way they were. 

“Is it,” Raven suddenly spoke, turning around to face them, “alright if I stay alone for a bit?”

“Of course--”

“Are you sure?” Damian asked in concern, not wanting to leave her at all. Even when she nodded, his body refused to move from its spot. He’d just gotten her back and now he was supposed to leave her here? No way. 

“She needs her space, dude, come on,” Dick grabbed the boy by the arm and literally had to drag him out of the apartment. 

“I’m not leaving her,” he spoke when they were already out in the hallway.

“Damian--” Dick sighed, watching the other sit down on the floor right there by the door. He was stubborn alright. “Are we… even sure it’s her?”

“It is her.”

“How do you know?”

“I know,” Damian frowned and looked up at the other. His answers were insufficient, he knew that, but right now it was better than telling him that the ghost of Raven visited him and told him to do all of this. It wasn’t the right time for it yet. Maybe because he still needed to wrap his head around this himself. Maybe it was because a part of him didn’t entirely believe it was real either. Maybe he had wanted it to be real so badly that he made it all up and actually brought god-knows-who back. Only time would tell at this point. That’s all he needed. Time.

“Fine,” Dick finally sighed and turned to leave. “Want me to bring any snacks?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll get hungry if you plan on staying here.”

“I’ll be fine.” There was no changing his mind, that much was certain. With a faint frown on his face, Dick simply made a mental note to bring something over later on. And with that he was gone. Everyone was gone. 

Something about being alone felt familiar to her. Alone, but not lonely. The silence, the dark emptiness welcomed her. And while hesitant, she wasn’t afraid. No, she was curious… Confused… Relieved… Happy… Sad… There were so many emotions that at the end of it, she didn’t quite know what she was feeling. But she had feeling in her fingertips and something about that made her happy. She ran her fingers across the bookshelves, the chairs in the kitchen as she walked past them, she felt the textures of the walls, the doors. Her little house tour ended in the bathroom as she walked up to the mirror and finally looked at herself, although reluctantly.

She knew that it had to be her that was looking back at her, but somehow she didn’t recognize that person. Her eyes scanned the reflection and frowned at her lips, her nose, her bald head, her eyes, the gem on her forehead, her everything. Everything seemed so wrong. Why did it feel so wrong? What happened to her? Releasing a heavy sigh, she pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and went straight to the bedroom. She needed to meditate. Maybe that would give her some sense of what was going on.

------

Minutes turned to hours, hours to days. It was torture all over again. Just sitting and waiting for something to happen, for her to walk out of that door and invite him in. He needed to be patient, he knew that. But god was this frustrating! There was no way of knowing what was going on in there. She was all by herself, not talking to anyone, not even leaving the place. It felt almost like she was hiding. If he didn’t hear some movement there every once in a while, he’d think she had run away by now. The thought of her running away and disappearing from his life again scared him. And he hated it. What if she didn’t remember anything from what happened? What if she did? Was that even actually her?

“Your anxiety is killing me,” a sudden voice made his head jerk up to see the apartment door slightly open and Raven standing there, looking right at him. His heart skipped a beat and in an instant, he bolted on his feet and cleared his throat.

“Your silence is killing me,” he tried to be as nonchalant as usual, but he could feel his voice tremble a little. Internally, he was somewhat glad to hear she still picked up on others’ emotions, however. That meant something. Something good. 

Raven hummed in response to that and they stared at each other for a moment longer before she spoke again. “Well, if you’re going to hang around here, you might as well go grab some eggs and milk. I want to make waffles.”

“At”-- he looked down at his wristwatch-- “9 pm?”

“Why not?” A simple shrug rolled off her shoulder. She was so calm it almost felt eerie. There was no doubt about the fact that it was indeed Raven. No one else had that effect on people like she did. 

“Very well then,” he huffed and left for the store, returning not too long after. But standing by the apartment door again, he hesitated. Did he just go in? Did he knock? Did she even want him to go in? She never said he could join in for the waffles after all. So a knock on the door was probably the best way to go about this.

“The door’s open!” He could hear her voice from the other side of the door and felt a huge stone fall off his chest as he then proceeded to walk inside. Closing the door behind him, he took a quick look around. Most of the apartment was dark, to no surprise. The only light came from the kitchen, where he guessed she was at, so he made his way there.

“Brought what you asked for,” he said before placing the grocery bag on the counter. She thanked him and took what she needed, adding it all to the bowl she had already prepared beforehand.

It was quiet for a while. Damian didn’t exactly know what to do. Offer to help? Sit down? Go back to the hallway? Well, she didn’t seem to mind him being there, so for now he opted for staying in the doorway and watching her make waffles. It felt familiar. Watching her do something as trivial as cooking. There had been countless times back at the tower when she would be making breakfast for herself or they would run into each other late at night when they both couldn’t sleep, so they sneaked into the kitchen for a snack. But he’d never thought too much of it. He never thought too much of anything back then. Those were just the everyday things they lived with. They were teammates. Always had been. But seeing her now, here, like this… It felt different somehow. Warmer. 

“I--” missed you didn’t quite roll off his tongue so well once he realized what he was about to say. Seeing her look at him in curiosity though, he cleared his throat and quickly composed himself again. “Have you… remembered anything?”

“Bits and pieces,” she nodded, pouring the batter in the waffle pan. “Some things are hazier than others. The most vivid memories came back to me pretty quickly. Some things come back to me only when I sleep.”

“What are the most vivid memories?” He asked cautiously as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We were investigating some murders… Then the first encounter with-- that sorceress lady--”

“Circe.”

“Circe. Right. Then there were all these voices in my head calling out to me. They had such a strong effect on me. Sometimes it feels like I can still hear them. I also remember… her summoning me? And stabbing me right through the heart. But there’s nothing after that. Did she--” Her violet eyes looked back at him with a hint of fear in them. “--kill me?”

“In a way, yes, she did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair, “she wanted to bind your demon part to herself to use you as a pawn in her army. So she had to split your human part from your body.”

“Oh,” she blinked in sudden realization, “so I didn’t die then?”

Damian hesitated for a second before shaking his head. “No.” And his heart squeezed tight in his chest. If she were to ask him how she died, he wasn’t sure he was ready to tell her the truth. 

“Hm,” she nodded slowly and carried on with her waffle making. It kind of confused him.

“You are allowed to ask more questions, you know.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why not? Aren’t you curious at all?”

“I wish I didn’t remember anything at all because each memory only brings pain with it,” Raven said and finally fully turned to him, her hands ever so slightly shaking. “I don’t know why, but each time I remember something, I just want to cry and I can’t--”

“You can cry, Raven. The world isn’t going to explode if you do.”

“Look who’s talking, Mister Son-of-Batman Always-have-to-be-stoic.” She rolled her eyes at him with a silent chuckle, but she could already feel a lump forming in her throat, making it harder for her to talk. 

“Hey, I’ve expressed quite a lot of emotions as of late,” he grinned at her and took a step closer.

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” she chuckled, but barely kept herself from letting the tears fall down her cheeks. Somehow it was even harder to do when Damian came closer to her. 

“You just have to remember it, that’s all,” the grin still on his face, he stepped closer again and reached for her shoulders. In an impulse, though, she flinched away and looked down at the floor. 

“Damian, please--”

“Raven,” his voice became much softer and the expression on his face changed to a more serious one as he glanced down at her, “you don’t have to do this alone.” 

The shift in the tone of his voice surprised her. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed having him around for some reason. Silence then set in between them once more. His hands slowly reached up again, placing them on her shoulders once he’d made sure she wasn’t flinching away this time. And it was enough to allow her burst into tears in a matter of seconds. His heart hurt seeing her like this, but at the same time he was relieved that she was letting it all out. And letting him close to her. God knew Raven wasn’t one to show emotion like this in front of anyone. Neither of them were, actually. Which made this all the more special. It felt much more like the last months before her… death. They’d gotten so close to each other. He missed it. He craved to be this close to her again. Without another word she let him embrace her in a tight and warm hug as she cried her eyes out into his chest. There was no particular reason why she wanted to cry. It was everything and nothing at the same time. She couldn’t even explain it. There were so many emotions that had built up inside her just over the course of the past few days. So maybe she just really needed this. To let out everything that had piled up inside her. And she did. It felt like she cried for hours. But she didn’t mind as long as she had Damian to hold her. And he didn’t mind as long as he had her to hold.

------

A knock on the door. That should’ve been enough to raise her suspicions. But she was still trying to figure Damian’s behaviour out. There were things that were inconsistent with him and visiting her was one of them. One day he’d stand in the hallway for hours contemplating whether or not he should even knock, then just barge in through the door the next day. It was confusing to her. Like he wanted to be there with her, but at the same time he also hesitated to do so. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming, sheesh,” Raven muttered and wrapped herself in a bathrobe, coming from the bathroom as she dried her short hair with a towel hanging around her neck. She didn’t think much of this visit until she came up to the door and placed a hand on the handle. A sharp sting went through her body, stopping her in her tracks. That wasn’t Damian. 

Another knock. She flinched back. Her big violet eyes stared at the door like it was about to burst open. And she actually caught herself by the realization that it might if she didn’t open it. Quickly running back to the door, she unlocked it and stepped back again. Somehow she didn’t dare to open it herself and just allowed the person on the other side to do so.

The door handle moved. Her heart skipped a beat. Slowly, the door opened and she was met by these bright green eyes. There was such a mixture of emotions in the air that she couldn’t pinpoint whether it was relief, anger, shock, sadness, disappointment or happiness. Maybe it was all of them.

“So”-- A frown-- “How long were you gonna hide for before telling me?”

Her heart clenched. “I’m-- sorry…”

Raven felt like she was out of breath. Her body was unable to move. This was the kind of visit she hadn’t expected at all. And it was exactly why she was saying she needed more time. She wasn’t ready for this. It was too painful. However, in a matter of seconds the atmosphere in the room changed, she saw a smile and suddenly received the biggest and warmest hug ever.

“You’re alive!” A happy cry.

“Kory--”

“By X’Hal, you’re alive,” the woman laughed out in joy and pulled away to take a good look at Raven. Her eyes had filled with tears, but she had the happiest of smiles on her face.

“Did… Dick tell you?” She frowned in confusion and slight disappointment.

“Oh, Dick doesn’t have to tell me anything for me to know that something’s up,” Kory chuckled and released the other from her grip, but left her hands placed on her shoulders, almost afraid that she’d disappear if she were to let go of her completely.

“Fair enough,” Raven grinned with a raised eyebrow.

“You have to tell me everything.”

------

“So you were never planning on telling anyone besides Damian and Dick?” Kory asked softly, sipping on, like, the third cup of tea already.

“Hey, Dick was never planned to be in this equation either, from what Damian’s told me,” she tried to deflect the question, but Kory’s stern look made her give it up and let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Kory.” Her eyes turned to look out the window. “I don’t think they need me to be in their lives.”

“What are you saying, Raven? Of course they do. We all do. You’re our friend--”

“Yeah, and I’m also a liability.” She snapped her eyes back to her, a certain seriousness in her voice that only she had. “I’m a threat. You know it’s true. They know it. I know it. If it isn’t my father ruining the party, it’s me. None of you need that.”

“So what, are you going to let them mourn you for the rest of their lives?” To say that Kory was in disbelief would be quite an understatement. 

“If that’s what it takes to keep them safe.” But Raven was indeed serious about it, she could see that. And it broke her heart that Raven thought of herself like that. Sure, she’d always deemed herself as not quite fitting in with the group, but it never stopped her from trying, from forming friendships and making a home for herself along with the rest of the Titans. And yes, they had gone through a lot of things. A lot of painful things. But none of them hated her. They didn’t blame her for what happened. That, Kory was sure of. If anything, Raven’s death impacted them immensely and it almost broke the team. But even despite Damian leaving, the rest of them were determined to keep fighting for the good in the world. 

“Raven, listen--”

“No, Kory!” Raven interrupted her and stood up from the couch. “I’ve made up my mind. I want to live a normal life. Here. By myself.”

“That’s a little bit selfish, don’t you think?” Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of disappointment in it. “You may hide behind these walls, underneath the whole I want them safe facade, but in reality you’re just too afraid to face them, aren’t you?”

“I--” Kory had never been one to beat around the bush too much, but this just left her speechless. It amazed her how well she’d seen right through her. Was she really that open of a book now? Had she lost her touch? Seeing the girl’s confusion, Kory smiled a little and ushered Raven to sit down again, holding onto her hand.

“It’s alright if you’re afraid. I mean, you came back from the dead, that’s not something one sees everyday.” 

“That’s not why--”

“You died, Raven.” Kory emphasised. “No matter under what circumstances. You were a dear friend that we all lost. We all mourned you. Most still do.”

Raven’s gaze turned to the empty tea cup on the coffee table before her. The things that Kory was saying made perfect sense. But… Somewhere deep in her heart, it still didn’t feel right. Even if she had already been here for a couple months, it felt it was too soon. Too sudden. How does one even prepare to reveal themselves as not dead?

“Look”-- A warm hand was placed over her own-- “I’m not saying you have to do it now. But if you’re waiting for the right moment, know that there will never be one. Just-- As soon as you feel ready.”

Raven nodded slowly and murmured a thank you. As soon as she felt ready. How the hell was she supposed to know when she was ready?

------

“You know, when you said you wanted to get out of the apartment, I never expected this.” A disgruntled voice followed her as they were making their way forward.

“I need to do this.” Raven didn’t stop even for a second.

“I still don’t see why.” Damian grumbled under his nose.

“Of course you don’t. You weren’t the one to die, Damian.” She reminded him with a certain sternness in her voice and stopped in her tracks to turn around and look at him. “Now where did you say it was?”

He stopped as soon as she did as well and eyed her for a moment before releasing a sigh and looking to the side, nodding in the general direction to what they were looking for. “Should be right over there.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where it is.” A grin stretched across her face, but he didn’t seem amused at all.

“I haven’t.” His eyes squinted at her. He was tense. He had been ever since she told him where she wanted to go. And even though his protests against it were minimal, the tension only got worse now that they were actually here. 

“I’ll wait for you in the car.” And with that he turned to leave, but in an act of impulse Raven stopped him by grabbing him by the hand.

“No, no, Damian”-- She looked right into his eyes as he glanced back at her-- “Stay. Please. You don’t have to come with me, just-- Wait here.”

He frowned in a bit of a confusion. Why did she need him to be here? It wasn’t like he could help her with anything. Not like she needed any help to begin with. Moral support maybe? Well… This was a cemetery and she wasn’t visiting any ordinary grave after all. So maybe her wish to have someone with her was somewhat justified. Then his gaze turned down to their hands. Noticing this, Raven quickly released him with a silent apology, but a soft gasp left her lips when he grabbed her hand right back.

“D-damian?” She uttered and watched him just stand there in silence, looking down at their hands, his thumb gently drawing circles on the back of her palm. Her heart was racing in her chest and she felt her cheeks burning, but he seemed so awfully calm about this. Several moments passed like this, with him being deep in his thoughts and her just staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Or do something. Anything. 

“I’ll stay.” Finally, he declared with that very Damian-like seriousness in his voice and released her hand. No explanations whatsoever. It left her absolutely dumbfounded.

“What was that?”

He raised an eyebrow as if completely clueless about what she was referring to, but the frown on her face made him answer eventually, but not before he clicked his tongue. “The last time that you and I spoke before-- Before things went to shit, you asked me if I had any regrets.” Listening to him, her brows furrowed as she recalled a faint memory wondering why they had been talking about regrets, of all things. “At the time, I said I had none. But… Later on I realized that it wasn’t true after all.”

“Well, we all regret the things we’ve done at some point in our lives.” 

“No. Not the things I’ve done. More like what I didn’t do. What I should’ve done.”

Raven hummed in response and looked down at her hand, placing it in the other, observing it, trying to have the feeling of it being held linger for a while longer. Closing her eyes for a moment, she released a heavy sigh. “You used to hold my hand.”

“I did.” A nod.

“But we went on fake dates while investigating the murders.”

“We did.” Damian nodded again and watched her look at him with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen.

“What were we then, Damian?” She breathed out, almost like on the brink of crying. Once again, her heart just clenched at the thought that she couldn’t remember. If they had been more than just teammates-- friends, then why would her mind cloud her memories like that? Why would it hide this from her? She didn’t understand. She just wanted to remember.

“We weren’t anything.” He stated simply and cocked his head to the side, rethinking his words for a moment. “But there could’ve been something had time let us.”

For some reason, hearing those words hurt. But-- It was also relieving. That’s why she felt such a strong pull for him. That’s why she wanted him around when she didn’t want to see anyone at all. It was him that brought her back in the first place. She let him close to her, always. And he was always there. At first it seemed so ordinary, so casual. Like it was exactly the way it was supposed to be. But now-- Oh god. How didn’t she see this sooner? 

“I was in love with you.” The sudden realization struck her.

“Perhaps.” Although hearing such a statement made his heart jump, on the outside he was as calm as ever.

“I never told you?” She frowned in confusion and Damian sighed, thinking for a moment.

“Neither of us did.” He then said truthfully. “I think that… we didn’t think we needed to.”

“Do you still think that now?”

“Do you?” He hadn’t meant to be so sharp with his response, but at the same time he didn’t feel like this was the right time or place to talk about this. If she didn’t remember any of it to begin with, this conversation was pointless. And he didn’t want her to think that she was in love with him or that he was in love with her. He didn’t want her to believe his words just because he said so. He wanted her to actually feel that way. And she clearly didn’t. Not yet.

The counter question clearly took her aback. Honestly, she didn’t know what kind of an answer she’d expected. What would be worse? For him to think he didn’t need to say it or for him to blurt out that he loved her only to not receive the same in return? Neither of those options seemed like the right one. It wasn’t the right time for it. Not yet.

So maybe it was better to just leave it this way. For now. Nodding in thought, Raven then turned and finally went to find what she came here for. Walking slowly, she read every name carefully as she passed them by until one of those gravestones spelled RAVEN.

Her heart stopped for a second and so did she. It was… surreal. Never in her life had she imagined she’d be standing by her own grave. She slowly kneeled down and for the longest time she just stared at the piece of stone before her. To say that she didn’t feel comfortable here would be an understatement. Everything about this particular spot was just… off. The aura wasn’t a good one at all, she could sense it. And to an extent, it made sense. She did die while she had succumbed to her dark self. There wasn’t anything good for her to leave behind.

“What happened to you?” Raven whispered to herself and looked at the ground, carefully reaching her hand down and gently pressing it against the grass. A sudden flash. An inhuman scream. Flames. Pain. Anger. So much anger. Voices that were getting louder. And louder. And louder until it felt like they were screaming in her ears.

“He killed me. He killed me! HE KILLED ME! You’ll die for this! You’ll all die!”

With a loud gasp, she jumped back up on her feet, shaking all over and holding her hands up to her chest.

“Raven?”

Cold sweat dripped down her forehead like she’d just woken up from a nightmare. Deep, shaking breaths. Her heart felt like it was about to leave her ribcage. 

“Raven.” She finally turned to the familiar voice and saw the concern in his eyes. Taking a quick glance down at the grave and her hand, she took a step back.

“I’m fine.” Raven breathed out and walked back to Damian. By the look on her face, he wasn’t sure that she was. But he really was in no position to pry. 

“Let’s leave then.” He suggested and she nodded, silently following him out of the cemetery. As they were walking away, she spared another look back at the grave. It didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem right at all.

------

She couldn’t shake the strange feeling off all the way to their next location. So much so that even Damian grew more worried by the minute, she could feel it. And she didn’t blame him either. But right now all she could do was try to reassure him that she was indeed fine. For the time being, anyway. What awaited her next needed her full focus anyway. This was going to be an emotional journey that no one could ever be completely prepared for. 

A deep breath. They stepped out of the car and looked up. The evening sun was slowly descending, painting the place in warm colours. A part of her wondered if it had always looked so calm and so beautiful in the evenings. Another realized that such things seemed trivial back then and a lot went by unnoticed. 

“Are you sure about this?” He interrupted the moment of silence, watching her as she seemed to mentally scale the building they were standing in front of.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why?” She finally looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Because if you were, I’d call you a psychopath.” Damian grinned and walked up to the door to enter the access code to the Tower, which, to no surprise, hadn’t changed since he left.

“You’re hilarious.” She deadpanned.

“Haven’t lost my charm then.” With the grin still on his face he gestured for her to go in. She merely rolled her eyes and grinned back as she walked past him, making her way inside. 

Now, getting inside turned out to not be such an issue, but as soon as she was there, her body froze up. Her chest ached and a lump formed in her throat. Was she really about to do this? So much time had passed. Would they truly welcome her back? Would they be mad? Would they be happy? Sad, even? Was she making the right decision to show up unannounced? What was she even doing here?

Suddenly, her trail of thoughts was interrupted when she felt something touch her hand. Startled, she glanced down for a split second before her eyes looked up at Damian standing next to her. Nonchalant as usual, his gaze was directed forward until he noticed her looking at him. Slowly turning his head, he looked at her with little to no emotion in his face. Because of course there was none. Only this time his eyes betrayed him. They said you’re not alone. And, even if for a moment, it washed all her worries away. Squeezing his hand tightly into hers, she smiled at him and took a deep breath.

“Let’s do this.”

--- Next chapter already available here

[adulttrio-imagines]

I was wondering if you could do a Hisoka x Hufflepuff reader, please? Also, your posts are amazing.

Thanks Anon! I don’t write too much, hence why this took so long, and I felt that a list of headcanons won’t do this justice, so enjoy~

Silence breaks as you climb the tower, footsteps echoing across the chamber like drumming heartbeats, your mother’s Christmas present tucked under your arm, your robes fluttering around you like angry ravens. Ever consistent to your absentminded nature, you had lost her present until just a couple minutes ago when you found it jumbled and hidden within the depths of your trunk. The steep staircases spiral endlessly, eerily quiet with what little students left in Hogwarts attending the Christmas Feast, but somehow your feet lead you on. Opening the owlery door, the odd mix of stale droppings and crisp winter air greet you, it’s not unpleasant nor is it welcomed.

You take in a long breath, and exhale. A couple feathers drifts down and you sneeze.

“This is my spot you know. If you want to run and hide from the party you need to find your own spot.” You scream, almost dropping the present, flipping around to find the source of the smooth voice. No sooner had your eyes adjusted to the dark room, did a figure saunter out from behind the beams. You recognize the cold look in those yellow eyes anywhere, and your heart pounded heavily against your rib cage.

“I’m not hiding. What are you doing up here? Everyone else is downstairs.” Somehow you find the courage inside of you, and your words come out strong. Like the stench in the air, you feel no particular animosity towards the boy, nor do you feel any sort of fondness towards him. It was just uncomfortably awkward, and made you wish you were alone in the dark tower.

Hisoka steps closer, you consciously will yourself to not take a step back. “Hmm? Is that so? Well I just wanted to be alone. Why are you here?” He asks, disappearing behind a post before appearing right behind you, half-lidded eyes glinting all the while.

You gulp, shrugging to play it off as you head over to a barn owl. “I just needed to send some stuff home. I thought I lost my mother’s Christmas present but turns out it was in my trunk the whole time.”

“I thought Hufflepuffs were good finders, guess that can’t be true for all.” He laughs, and it makes your stomach flip for all the wrong reasons. You looked away, pretending to catch the attention of an owl as you snuck glances at him.

You’ve never interacted with the boy the past year despite being in the same classes, but words of his actions have drifted in and out of your friend circle during your time at Hogwarts.

He’s insane. Gilbert Huckerby once whispered after rumors of a badly injured fifth year student being sent to St Mungos spread to the Hufflepuff common room. It was thought that Hisoka was the perpetrator but since no one had any proof, he got away.

You’ve heard the stories, of blisters growing all over the victim’s face, of burning tongues and disappearing eyes, all while the boy in front of you was said to have looked on, smiling.

But he’s… small, even for a thirteen year old. He’s slightly shorter than you are, in all your tiny glory. With floppy hair framing his still baby-faces cheeks, you knew that while dismissing those rumors would be unwise, it was hard to believe them all.

“Can’t win them all.” You shrugged, struggling to secure the package to a the fidgety barn owl you had manage to persuade. It hooted shrilly when you accidentally tangled the string with your fingers, and pecked at them when you got its talons mixed up in the process.

“Ack! I’m sorry! I can’t help it!” You turn to the amused boy next to you, practically pleading, your absent mindedness costing you, “can you please untie this? My hands are stuck and I can’t-“ You tug at the string and get another nip in response.

“Hmm? I don’t really feel up to the task and I’m kinda enjoying the view and all.” He gestures out towards the open grounds, eyes glinting mischievously in the dark. In the night, his yellow eyes blended in with the other owls that stared judgmentally down at you.

“Please? I really need to send this off- Ack!” A wing slaps you across the face, and a mocking laugh echoes through the tower, sending a few tawny owls flying out the window. You turn to glare at him, trying to look as threatening as you could with a scratched up face and feathers in your hair.

“This isn’t funny!” You exclaim, only to get slapped again in the other cheek. “Yuck! When’s the last time you clean yourself!” The bird shoots you a scathing look, hooting even more as it pecks your nose.

“Really? I disagree. Aren’t you suppose to be a witch?” His smile shone even in the faint candle light, distractingly bright, and you caught yourself staring before quickly turning away, hoping the darkness hid your beet red face.

“Ah! Why didn’t I think of that?” Quickly, you try to reach for your wand but realize it’s missing. Frantically you try to retrace your steps, banging your head against the wall when you realize you left it in your robe pocket downstairs. You groan and bang your head against the wall.

“You got it really tangled up.” Warm fingers glide over yours and it takes all of your self-control not to jump when you feel something hot breathing against the name of your neck. You turn your face slightly, and let out a muffled scream when your nose nearly brushes against Hisoka’s. He looked extremely pleased with himself, moreso than usual as he frees the owl from your clumsy hands. His fingers are nimble, quick and long, so slender they make your own look childish in comparison. You feel his breath run across your neck, sending jolts of shivers across your frame, the air feeling incredibly thin as his hands brushed against yours. You try to look away, and find it impossible. His smile, which you assumes to be even creepier up close, was somehow extremely attractive, in a boyish way.

“There.” He smirks, stepping back. You catch yourself staring at the curve of his jaw and the surprising broadness of his shoulders throughout a curtain of hair as he steps back. Just like that you release a breath you weren’t aware you were holding in, relaxing as you felt the last tremors leave your knees. You breathe a sigh of relief, thanks at the tip of your tongue when you notice he held a pack of sweets in his hand. A pack you distinctly remembered wrapping up and had intended to give your brother.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Consider it payment for my help.”he smirks, tossing it in the air.

“What-“ but you pause. Knowing Hisoka, arguing would just be giving him what he wanted and you refuse to stoop to his level. You straighten up and look him dead in the eye, puffing your chest out. Besides, Christmas is the time for giving anyway.

“Fine, you can keep it. Thanks for helping me out.” His eyes widen for a fraction of a second and you feel oddly pleased at surprising him. “I’ll just get some more at Honeydukes, I’ve been meaning to get a different flavor anyway.” You hop down the stairs, pleased to know that your mum would now be getting her present.

“Well, I’m going to head down now.” You stop, noticing how he still stood at the top of the steps. “Aren’t you coming down? The feast is going to end soon, if we hurry we can get dessert.”

“I’m staying up here.” He answers after a slight pause. He smiles the same cold smile you’ve see so many times that never quite reaches his eyes, waving you off. On top of the tower, alone with the surrounding wooden post ring long shadows all around him, he looks like a ghost, isolated from everything, and you almost push on.

But you remember this is also Hisoka, and the contorted face of the fifth year you saw heaving on the hospital bed stops you.

“Alright then, Merry Christmas.” You give him a half hearted wave back and descend the stairs, missing how his stare follows you and remains stationed there long after you’re gone.

…..

It eats away at you.

You push your mash potatoes around as what was left of your housemates laugh and compare their Christmas gifts, mind returning to the lone boy in the tower. He probably had his reasons for wanting to be alone, but somehow you cannot shake off the strange feeling growing in your gut. The guilt slowly ebbs away at your consciousness, with both sides of your heart battling out.

As scary as it was, he did help you, and you hated the idea of anyone else having to spend Christmas alone in that tower.

Even if it were Hisoka.

You made your choice, you suddenly stood up and loaded on dessert, running off to find the boy.

The owlery is mostly empty and your voice echoes across the circular tower. You climb the steps and find Hisoka sprawled lazily across one of the larger windows, shuffling a worn out deck of cards, the pack of sweets he stole from you lying forgotten on the floor.

You almost call out to him but a tirade of voices flood through your ears. The weight in your hands feeling inexplicably heavy for that split moment.

Dangerous.

Unstable.

A threat to us all.

He lifts a hand up… and accidentally drop the cards all over his face.

Relief swells like a balloon and you quickly climb to the window.

“Hey are you hungry?” You call out. He doesn’t even take a glance at you as you set your haul right next to him.

“You could have answered me, you know!” You huffed, crossing your arms. He lazily turns his head towards you and smiles. You hate the coldness in his eyes as he sits up straight, gaze boring straight through you. It was as if he couldn’t exactly see you, the glazed look his eyes had taken on adding to your discomfort.

“Are you.. okay?” You ask, approaching him the way one would approach a wild animal, and you catch yourself reaching out to him. He smiles, baring his teeth and shows off an impressive set of canines.

“Ah? What brings this Hufflepuff back? Another package to send? I hope you know that the owls here refuse to send anything else for you.” He eyes the package on the floor with mild interest and you pull back, clenching your fist in an effort to still them.

“That’s too bad. This next one is to Mars, my cousin goes to school there and I thought she would like her present.” You hope he doesn’t hear the slight tremble in your as you play into his game, you know what to do, even if your heart feels as if it’s going to crawl out of your throat.

“What school do they go to?” He asks.

“Pigfarts.” You reply with a completely straight face.

Hisoka blinks, once, twice. And roars with laughter. It’s almost like a bark and you find it hard to stand your ground, regretting your decision immediately as he doubles over with laughter. Your ears feel so warm and what little food you have in your stomach flip flops.

“No. I just-I just thought.. No one should spend Christmas alone, so I snuck some food out and brought them here.” You go in to assess the damage, unwrapping the loot as he continues to chuckle before presenting him with what food you could scavenge from the feast. He easily lands with unexpected grace to the ground, and crouches to examine your offering.

Once again, a cool, pleased feeling purrs inside you to see him taken aback by your statement as you presented him with an assortment of pastries and cake. “I could only get dessert if you don’t mind.” You say, nudging them towards him.

Hesitantly, he grabs and takes a bite of a brioche bun, the corners of his lips curling into an unreadable smile.

“It’s quite dry.” He states, but takes another bite before tossing a few crumbs for the owls to eat. You grab one and bite into it, letting out a contented moan. It’s light, fluffy and not the slightest bit dry.

“I don’t think it’s dry.”

“I know.”

“So why are you really out here?”

“You sure are nosy.”

“And you’re mean.”

“Hmm. True.” He suddenly turns to face you, and he’s so close that you can count the faint freckles that dot his nose. “Do you know want to see some magic?”

“Hisoka, we’re at Hogwarts. All we do is magic.” You say, too stunned to move away. Your breath gets hitched in your throat, and you hesitantly lick your noticeably dry lips.

“Yeah, but have you seen this?” A flick of his hands and a previously unseen joker card appears between his fingers.

You reach out for the card, tips brushing against his. He doesn’t pull back, and you feel the tingling sensation spread through your arm.

He smiles again, eyes creased into crescent moons, as he takes a bite of the desert you brought up. It is far more genuine than any you had ever seen him give, before diving into his explanation with unexpected enthusiasm.

You return his smile.

He’s cold.

Cruel.

Inhuman.

But for that moment, in the darkness of the tall tower, surrounded by clouds of snow, a pack of cold pastries in between the both of you, fingers constantly brushing one another, with nothing but the moon for light, you remember that he’s just a person too.

[barb-aricyawp]

Hey, no pressure but if you feel like it, how about 'that doesn't scare me' and 'let's play a game' for Will and Hannibal? It just seems like it would fit... Always a pleasure to read whatever you write, but take it easy! -S

I’ll always make your prompts a priority! 

trigger warnings in the tags…I went all out, so please mind them.

“You seem bored, Will.”

“Do I?” Graham rolls his tongue around his aching mouth and spits out a molar. It narrowly avoids Lecter’s cognac leather shoes. “Can’t imagine why.”

Side-stepping the lost tooth, Lecter hums. “I know you miss your work, Will. So, I brought it to you.”

Graham lifts his head in shock. There’s a woman in the room with them now, a thin waif of a girl, and Graham recognizes her instantly. This is Georgia Madchen, the woman who accidentally killed her best friend. Graham thought she was dead.

But Lecter is like the dog that keeps dragging dead things in from the yard.

Like Graham, Georgia is bound to a wooden chair. Unlike Graham, her eyes are wide with terror and confusion. She looks around the room in a panic, taking in Lecter’s table of tools. The thick curtains covering the windows. The plastic wrap covering the floor. And, of course, Graham himself.

The reason Lecter brought her here.

When they meet eyes, Georgia strains against the ropes binding her to the chair. In a hoarse whisper, she asks him, “Am I dead?”

Graham closes his eyes. He sees a doe in the woods, following the trail of food straight to the hunter in the brush. How the shot will cleave through the cavern where her heart is. How the crack of the rifle will sound after the bullet kills her. How she will be dead without knowing she’s been hunted.

And how Georgia is nothing like that doe.

“No,” Graham says, flinching. The movement stings the laceration over his brow, the one that cuts down towards his the inner corner of his eye. “Not yet.”

Lecter claps his hands congenially, drawing their attention towards him again. “Let’s play a game.”

He tracks Lecter’s movement towards the table. Lecter plucks up his favorite scalpel. A curved blade with an unsharpened back edge, large and good for abdominal incisions. 

“That doesn’t frighten me anymore.” Graham snorts at the sight of it. Crusted dried blood from his broken nose breaks off from the exhalation. It flutters to his collarbone where Lecter brushes it off for him.

“It’s not for you,” he says lightly. “And you haven’t allowed me to explain the rules, Will.”

Lecter smiles at Graham then, as if they are exchanging a pleasant secret amongst friends. They once shared looks like this one. The familiarity warms Graham, and that makes his stomach churn.

“I will ask you a question. If you lie or refuse to answer, I take something from Ms. Madchen.”

Graham’s eyes flicker to Georgia, to the bewildered fear radiating off her. She must be terrified; her disorder doesn’t allow her to recognize faces, she has no idea who holds her captive or why. When Graham looks to her, she asks again, “Am I dead?” and he ignores her. He has to.

Lecter is already unbuttoning her shirt to expose her pale belly. The muscles and fat there tremble.

There’s no way for Graham to win this game. Otherwise, Lecter wouldn’t play.

“Let’s begin. Will, when you were a child, what were afraid of?”

“The dark,” Graham says. 

Lecter clicks his tongue, shaking his head as if disappointed with a young student. “A half truth. So, I won’t take anything just yet.” He slices the scalpel upward, from her navel to her ribs.

Georgia’s mouth gapes in shock, not quite recognizing the pain. Graham clenches his fists so tightly his nails break open crescents in his palm.

“What do you mean a half truth? I was afraid of the dark, most young children are.”

“You weren’t afraid of the dark, Will. You were afraid of what’s in the dark.”

“Bullshit–”

“Next question.” Lecter moves through the game brusquely, perhaps recognizing that Georgia won’t survive longer than a few hours. “Were you closer to your mother or your father?”

Fixing boats in the dock. The weight at the foot of his bed after a nightmare. “My father.”

Lecter smiles. “I believe that. Most sons of your generation are closer to their mothers. Why weren’t you?”

Graham hesitates. This is how he’ll lose the game–with questions he doesn’t know the answer to. “She wasn’t around as much. We had less in common.”

It’s the wrong answer and he knows it. Lecter sinks his hand into Georgia’s stomach, squelching through organs until he slices one loose. She’s screaming now, asking questions and begging, and Graham knows that must annoy Lecter. All that noise.

Out comes a long, flat organ. “The pancreas,” Lecter says, showing Graham. “I am very partial to sweetbread. Especially with a Burgundy Chardonnay. Would you like to try some tonight? I could cook for you, Will.”

For weeks, Graham has subsisted on a scarce diet of bread and water. He is ravenous. 

“No,” he spits. “I wouldn’t.”

Lecter smiles at him and sinks his hand back inside Georgia. Her intestines curl around his forearms, and Graham is momentarily mesmerized by the drape of them over Lecter’s wrists. Elegant, somehow. Despite the blood.

When he draws out another organ for Graham to see, Georgia’s head has lolled back. Passed out from shock.

“Seems we’ll have to cut the game short,” Lecter says, observing her prone form. He gathers what he’s carved from Georgia’s body. “All for the best anyway; I should start preparing dinner now.”

[plague-of-insomnia]

Art by @luci-on-the-moon

It’s Sunday, and that means another drabble from the AU I’m collaborating on with @luci-on-the-moon! This week, you get to see a scene featuring our favorite bromance to ship, Bard and Luci!

      Joker, their boss, is the king of the adult business in Houston, but the real money and power comes from extortion, and it’s up to Bard and Sebastian (Luci) to collect those dues each month.

      Today, get a sample from their work day and what their friendship is like. (And who doesn’t love seeing Druitt--Aleistor Chamber--beat up?)

      If you want to read the other drabbles from this AU I've posted, check out my Fan Fiction page, where you can also get links to the other art Luci has created, including Sebastian, Luci, and Ciel!

_______________________________________________

Sebastian was silent as he held the flashlight so Bard could deactivate the house alarm and pick the lock. Aleistor Chamber, their first visit of the day, lived in what was once a posh Memorial mansion, but with a significant portion of his funds ending up in Joker’s pockets each month, the post-Harvey renovations to repair the flood damage had stalled, leaving the first floor a half finished mess of gutted walls and construction equipment.

      Concentrating on his work, Bard found it worrisome that Sebastian was being patient. Normally by now he’d insist they simply break in, not wanting to wait. Despite being even more proficient at lock picking than Bard, Sebastian—or rather, Luci—simply didn’t have the patience for it. Subtly was not Luci’s motto.

      “This is ridiculous,” Sebastian grumbled. “Every goddamn month. Joker should add a key to the tab already. Would save so much time.”

      Sebastian’s comment made Bard grin, relaxing subtly. “You can’t kill him. He’s one of Joker’s cash cows, don’t forget.”

      Sebastian rolled his eyes, but said nothing as they snuck in the house soundlessly, their black clothes blending into the darkness, easily finding their way up the stairs to the master bedroom.

      Chamber had an affinity for white, everything in the room a mockery of purity, including the oversized king bed where the man slept, stupidly oblivious to the presence on either side of him.

      Bard nodded to signal Sebastian could do the honors, and the man grinned devilishly, reaching over and grabbing Chamber by his long platinum-blond hair, dragging the mostly naked man out of bed just as Bard hit the switch, light filling the room and bouncing blindingly over every pale surface, causing the unprepared Chamber to cry out and squeeze his eyes shut tight, fingers uselessly trying to pry Sebastian’s from his scalp.

      “Morning, Al. Did you miss me?”

      “Of course, little raven.”

      Bard winced. He was convinced by now despite his education and position, Chamber was a moron. Because only an idiot goaded Luci.

      Sebastian snarled at the nickname and threw Chamber into the wall.

      The man hit hard enough to send a framed picture crashing to the floor beside him, and he sank into a heap, whimpering.

      Sebastian strode over to the man and put his foot on Chamber’s head, pushing him into the wall. “Where’s the money? I’m asking nicely.” And he was. He had yet to draw a weapon, his favorite pistol resting against his ribs in its holster and several knives strapped to his legs, some visible and some hidden. Chamber was still in one piece. Not even bleeding yet.

      “I don’t have it.”

      Sebastian pressed harder, his boot leaving an imprint on the man’s fair skin, his pale hair tangled and standing up from where it had been grabbed. “Not the answer I want to hear, Al. You know what happens if you don’t pay, right?”

      Bard lit a cigarette, smirking at the way Chamber’s face reddened at the idea of the smell corrupting the purity of his room, an amusing thought considering what he was being blackmailed for.

      “First, I get to play with you,” Sebastian sneered, the tips of his sharp canines catching the light, his red eyes seeming to glow. “And then the entire state can find out the chairman of the board of Children’s Hospital likes fucking underage boys.”

      Bard took a long drag of his smoke, smirking. Joker didn’t let anyone who wasn’t legal work as an escort, but he did have several young people of both sexes who could easily pass as jailbait. The man Joker had Chamber on camera with was actually 20, which made the extortion even better, because it was a bluff.

      Sebastian kicked Chamber in the chest, shoving him to the floor with a single boot. He leaned in, putting his weight on the man’s sternum. “Dr. Chamber, I bet you could tell me how long the recovery is for a broken breast bone.”

      Chamber wheezed. “I told you: I don’t have the money.”

      “Do you know,” Sebastian said coolly, bending his knee and leaning on it casually as if he weren’t using Chamber as a step, “that Joker has several journalists in his pocket, so while he doesn’t get as much from leaking stories as he does from blackmail, he profits either way? I wonder what the Chron headline will read in a few hours. ‘Children’s Chair Loves Kids Too Much’?”

      Bard snickered. He purposefully tapped the ash of his cigarette on the pristine white carpet, putting the butt out on the bottom of his shoe and picking it up so they wouldn’t leave behind any evidence. He checked his watch. “We got a schedule, Luce.”

      Sebastian growled but nodded. In a swift movement, his foot moved from Chamber’s chest to crash down on the man’s nose with a sickening crunch.

      Aliestor howled in pain, cradling his face with his hands as blood slid down his cheek to the floor, staining the fibers.

      Sebastian wiped his boot on the carpet to Chamber’s horror, and bent low, leaning in until his nose nearly brushed the top of the man’s hand. “Might want to call your plastic surgeon when we leave if you want to keep your pretty, pretty face. That’s a nasty break. Not gonna heal well. Get it? Heel?” Sebastian burst into laughter at his stupid joke, glancing over to see if his companion found it nearly as humorous.

      Bard just sighed and rolled his eyes, shoving another cigarette in his mouth, unlit.

      “Can I castrate him, Bard? Please?”

      Bard sighed. “Not until I call the boss and find out how he wants to handle this. Not gonna be pleased being woken up at this hour. Probably put him in a real bad mood.” He cast a telling glance at Chamber, another reminder that he better pay up, or his career wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be losing.

      Sebastian pulled his large Bowie knife from the holster on his hip and sank down until he was straddling Chamber’s legs. He cut the whimpering man’s underwear off with ease and frowned. “Might need a smaller knife for such a tiny job. This why you like kids? Even the tightest adult virgin ass not tight enough for something so . . .” Sebastian sank his knife into the ground just beneath Chamber’s balls, making the man jerk and tremble. “Hey, Bard, what’s another word for ‘tiny’?”

      Bard had his phone out as if he were dialing Joker. He shrugged as he pressed it to his ear.

      “Ask Joker.” Sebastian had his index finger on the top of the blade’s handle, gently nudging it from side to side, grinning at how it made Chamber sob harder, his nose still bleeding.

      “OK, OK!”

      Bard hung up, disconnecting the call to his favorite pizza place, eyebrow raised.

      “My dr—drawer. Dress—dresser,” Chamber stuttered. He pulled a hand from his face to point, his nose, eyes, and cheeks already bruising.

      Bard leveled a hard look at Sebastian to warn him to behave, only moving once he saw the man take his hand off the knife and sink back onto his haunches, sulking. Nothing got Luci going more than someone who abused children, making him even more dangerous than normal.

      Bard crossed the room, pulling the first drawer out and dumping its contents on the floor before tossing it aside. His nose turned up at the vast assortment of dildos, vibrators, buttplugs, and other sex toys, grateful he was wearing gloves. He was about to try the next drawer when he spotted an envelope taped to the back of the cabinet. He leaned in, prying it off. When he opened it, he saw a row of crisp $100 bills, more than enough for the month’s payment. He fanned them with his thumb to show Sebastian, who sighed loudly, yanking his knife from the floor in such a way he drew a thin line of blood from Chamber’s scrotum, but otherwise caused no further harm.

      Bard pocketed the money. “Was that so difficult? Coulda saved yourself a lot of pain if you’d just given us the money from the start.”

      Sebastian slid his knife in its scabbard and stood, kicking Chamber for good measure. “Shoulda let me cut his balls off.” He pouted, but made for the door anyway.

      “Maybe next month,” Bard said, patting Sebastian’s shoulder, casting a warning glare Chamber’s way, suggesting next time he might not be able to hold Luci back.

[ravorynselik]

At Sea pt. 6

Karokk stirred with a groan, consumed by the pain in his back. Despite the bruises covering the rest of his body, the crooked discomfort in his back consumed all other feelings, ravenous for his attention. He’d been sleeping with his spine bent backwards over the seat of the longboat for the last six hours or so. The skin between his shoulders was rent from his landing against the seat when Garud threw him to safety. The bleeding had stopped, but Karokk could feel how thinly the skin was healed, and the sticky, cracked residue of his own blood along his unarmored back. Karokk felt lucky to not have broken his back as he wiggled his bare toes in the sickly humid air of the shore.

He managed to pry his eyes open, despite the stinging of the salty mist, his ears still drowning in the noise of the waves breaking against the sides of his beached vessel. Above, Karokk saw a churning sky, a deep darkness eating at the visibility. Green streaks ran through the clouds, cracking along the surface of the billowing clouds like a venomous static. Karokk wasn’t the type to be disheartened, but he understood why it was called the Broken Shore now.

Karokk took a deep breath, his bones creaking as he re-inflated. His hand moved to press against his left ribs as pain pierced him. He exhaled into an exasperated exclamation. “..come pick me up.”

Karokk’s ears were still fighting to wake up, through the fog of noise made up of the waves, the wind, and the cracking of the sky. Beneath those sounds he heard sand and rocks being kicked up on the beach, and a reply whose words he couldn’t understand.

He stretched his right arm upwards, holding his shaking hand open. He expected Garud to come pick him up from his resting place, but was met with a surprise. A hand grabbed his, but it was small and green, leathery fingers wrapping around Karokk's palm. The hand tugged on Karokk's, exacerbating the soreness throughout his arm. Karokk groaned.

"Y'gotta help me kid. I don't got the leverage for a rescue." Karokk swatted the green hand away limply, turning his head to look at the source of the voice. A goblin was leaning over the edge of the longboat, pulling his hand back to tuck into the pocket of his black overalls, soaked in seawater. The goblin had no shirt underneath the tattered straps, but Karokk could see remnants of it wrapped around the goblin's other arm, a white fabric, greyed with sweat and stained with blood. The goblin's face was stained as well, his nose broken between two tired eyes. His skin was wrinkled from soaking in the sea, and his shock of blue hair, which was once styled into a mohawk, if Karokk remembered from their time together on the ship, was now matted down, and mostly dried out.

"Suit y'self, kid. No gold from my pouch." The Goblin began to walk away.

"Wait. Please." Karokk lifted his arms enough to rest his elbows on the seat he'd been laying against, pushing himself up so he could see down the beach in the direction the goblin was walking. There was only one other figure on the beach, an orc, laying face-down with a piece of demonic chitin sticking through his back. "Where is everyone? Where is Garud?"

The goblin paused, turning back to Karokk with a look of disappointment hanging on his brow. "You were out of it soon as y'landed. The demons didn't just give up on us, elfie. Only the three of us made it to the shore." He gave a quick glance to the orc behind him. "Guess I should say two."

Karokk froze, eyes widening. "They- the others-"

The goblin read the look on his face. "They ain't dead. Not all of 'em anyway. The winged ones took a handful, including the cow." The goblin pointed a finger over Karokk's head, which Karokk followed.

There was a hill a couple miles down the shore, a large fel-metal structure resting upon it. Karokk could see specks darting to and from the top of the cage, which he assumed were demons. Karokk planted his hands on the side of the longboat closest to him, groggily working his way up to his feet. "What's the plan then?"

"Got a few supplies left. I can get a flare in the sky to get some troops over here. Alliance or Horde, we've got a chance of them helping in this territory. Everyone needs a friend when demons are crawling." The goblin jerked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to a few bags piled up on the beach. "Gotta try to get it dried out first."

"What about them?" Karokk's eyes were trained on the structure on the hill.

"Guess the troops might try to free them."

"Why don't we? What weapons do we have?" "Kid, you're basically one big wound, and I've only got enough in the bags to get some signals made. We ain't playing hero today." The goblin was digging through the bags, and starting to sort out his engineering bits, having led Karokk slowly down the beach. Karokk's eyes scanned over the dead orc. He felt sorry for the orc, but he was looking for a weapon. He eyed the jagged chunk that was impaling the orc, wondering if he could wield it somehow. The goblin made sense, but he wasn't waiting around. He'd rescue Garud with bloody fists if there was no other option. "Maybe we aren't, but I'll try still."

The goblin shook his head, still looking through his supplies. "Yer gonna get yourself killed, elfie. I'm not waitin' around. If there's rescue, I'm taking it, with or without you."

Karokk started snapping the fingers on his right hand, fidgeting nervously. After half a minute or so, tiny lights appeared from the friction between his fingers, singular glowing points of light, shining with a purity that pushed the smothering feeling of the air away for just an instant before they vanished from existence. Karokk continued the process for a moment until he was hit with a wave of relief. For a glorious instant all his fatigue and pain was washed away. The joy faded, and he was filled again with pain and uncertainty, but he was standing straight. His lower back seemed healed, or at least numbed, and for the time being, there was little more he could hope for. "Weapons? Even a sharp stick?"

The goblin blinked, having watched the once-paladin's display. "One sec, elf." He turned back, digging through his bags once more. He pulled something from it, and offered it up to Karokk. It was a wrench, tarnished from use and stained with oil and grease. "Won't need this for what I'm doing."

Karokk took the wrench, adjusting it in his hand until he felt confident, swinging at the air a couple times as though he were holding a mace. On the last swing, he winced, doubling over for a moment as the piercing pain shot through his left ribs again. "Appreciate it." He lifted his chin to look the goblin in the eye, a weak grin playing across his bruised elven features. “Better hurry with that flare, I won’t be long.”

The goblin grinned in kind, extending a hand to Karokk. “The name’s Grotto, kid.”

Karokk pushed off his knees for support as he stood back up. He reached out to shake the goblin’s hand. “Karokk.”

With that, the elf turned and started toward the hill, one limping step at a time.

[prosciuttoe]

I adore your fics!! So excited for your book

If he’s being honest with himself, Bellamy has to admit that he’s least partly responsible for what’s been going on with Clarke.

Fine, maybe entirely responsible, considering he’s the one enabling her.

Still, he startles a little when she barges into his apartment, bottle of vodka in hand and a 7-11 bag in the other.

“Fuck,” he swears, zeroing in on the boxes of dye that are visible through the see-through bag. “What happened?”

“I got into a fight with my mom.” She sniffs, her knees wobbling dangerously before she plops down on his lap, sinking her head against his shoulder.

His arm goes around her- instinctive at this point- keeping her steady. “What happened?”

She peeks up at him from between her lashes at that, teeth snagging against her bottom lip nervously before she goes, “I was thinking about telling you while you worked on my hair.”

He groans, reaching over to twist a lock between his fingers. She had opted for pink, the last time, and the ends are now faded out to a cotton candy shade which he loves. “Clarke.”

“What? I was thinking blue this time. Blue would be nice.”

“I shouldn’t be encouraging this,” he grumbles, lifting her in his arms carefully before setting her down on the sofa. “You should be engaging in your other vices, like drinking and eating a obnoxious amount of french fries.”

The look she shoots him is distinctly puppylike; wide-eyed and pleading coupled with a little head tilt. He’s a goner even before she throws in a soft, “Please?”

Huffing, he starts unpacking the items in the bag, flipping her off when she begins to cheer raucously.

Look, in hindsight, Bellamy should have really thought this through. But to be entirely fair, he didn’t think that a single haircut during Clarke’s post-Lexa-breakup-phase would lead to this becoming a frequent occurrence of sorts. Prior to this, she would drown her sorrows in peach schnapps and a Netflix marathon. Now, she just comes over and insists that he help in whatever new scheme she has to change up her look, whether it involves putting colored streaks in her hair or accompanying her to get her nose pierced. He’s not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or just a distraction, at this point, but he prefers it to her getting wasted anyway.

Plus, she always comes to him for this, which he really likes. It’s one of those things about being hopelessly in love with your best friend: you take whatever you can get, even if that means that you have to spend hours inhaling toxic fumes.

“Raven is going to kill me for this,” he reminds her, snapping on a pair of latex gloves while she sways in place, practically vibrating with excitement. “She thinks I indulge you too much.”

“You do,” she agrees, giggling when he sinks his hands into her hair, spreading the dye evenly. “But that’s why I love you.”

His heart gives a little twinge at that, and he has to bite at the inside of his cheek to keep from responding. It’s mostly the offhanded, throwaway comments like this that gets to him, really, because it’s a struggle not to think about her saying it in another context. He should probably tell her all this, one day, but the thought of losing her friendship makes him go cold.

He tunes back in when she starts telling him about the argument she had with Abby- predictably, about her latest decision to go to art school instead of majoring in medicine like she had always planned to. It’s nothing new or unexpected of Abby (at least, that’s how he feels) and he tells her as much, twisting the colored strands up into a knot before flopping down onto the sofa next to her.

“Does it look good?” she asks, and he slaps her hand away when she reaches up to poke at it. “You know, it’s really unprofessional of you to do this without a mirror.”

“Go to a salon and get it done for ninety bucks then,” he retorts, yelping when her fingers dart over to tickle at his ribs. “Hey. Cut it out.”

That pulls a laugh out of her, the sound bright. “God, you’re such a baby.”

“You’re the—” he nearly falls off the sofa when he feels hands against his hip, tickling mercilessly, and he lunges over to grab at her wrists before she can do anymore damage. “You’re such a brat.”

“Sure,” she goes, easy, close enough that he can smell the alcohol on her breath, her chest heaving against his as she gives another giggle. He swallows, and it takes almost all of his willpower not to shiver at her proximity, the way her gaze dips down to his mouth and lingers, like she’s curious about him.

“What?” he manages, hating the hoarseness of his voice.

She tilts forward at that, only a hair’s breadth away from him, and he closes his eyes when he feels her slide her hand up to his jaw because holy shit, Clarke Griffin wants to kiss him—

The sudden thrill of an alarm makes him jump, with her pulling away at the exact moment. For a second, he can only stare in a dazed sort of silence, before the blue splatters on the towel slung around her shoulders reminds him what it’s there for.

“You should,” he gestures at the still-ringing alarm, rubbing at his face. “Go wash that out.”

“Yup.” She mumbles, strangely red in the face. “I’ll just— I’ll be back.”

“Yeah.”

He buries his face in his hands after she goes, groaning.

The rest of the night passes by without any of the strange tension from before, thankfully, and he’s positive that things are back to normal by the time he drops her off at her apartment. Bellamy’s just going to chalk it up to a terrible, booze-fuelled, almost incident that he’s just… not going to think about. It’s better for his health, really. They can just forget that it ever happened.

Well, until she turns up on his doorstep the next day with blazing red hair instead of blue.

He stares, tightening his grip on the door knob. “What the fuck?”

“I did it myself,” she hastens to point out, wringing her fingers together. “It was, uhm. A real bitch to cover up, but. Yeah.”

“Pray tell, why?”

She takes a shuddering breath, drawing closer. “Because I do this every time something big or disastrous happens in my life.” Then, shooting him a weak smile, she adds, “It’s kind of a tradition, at this point.”

“Yeah, but,” he crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. “Wait. So something else happened last night?”

Another step, until they’re practically standing chest-to-chest. He tries not to get distracted by the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her arms coming around the back of his neck.

“Uh, just a life-altering revelation.” She breathes, giving a small laugh. “That I’ve been in love with you, all this time, and—”

He twists his fingers into her hair to kiss her then, laughing into her mouth, hands going to her hips and lifting her so she can rain kisses against his cheek, the corner of her jaw.

“I can’t believe you dyed your hair all over again just to make a point,” he gets out, slamming the door shut behind them. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“Far be it for me to break tradition,” she goes, prim, breaking out into a dizzying smile as she leans up to kiss him again. “So, I take it the feeling is mutual, right?”

“Depends on if you’re going to bleach your hair again if I tell you yes.”

(She doesn’t, though she does dye it purple after he tells her he loves her. It’s pretty fucking grand.)