#but if you don’t break out of that shell it will become a coffin and you will die

[snakegorl212006]

FF16 pairs react to gender netural reader who was isekai-ed had cancer back in our world and thought they didn't have it anymore when they woke up in Valisthea, but realize they do, know they won't have much time left since chemo isn't a thing in Valisthea. and worked up the courage to tell them. (Also the ff16 pairs already know reader is from another world)

S/O with any incurable and harmful illness(like cancer or something)

(warning: reader death, death topics, illness, minor angst, minor spoilers)

========Clive + Jill==============

-they’ll be devastated if they knew -both would try ways to cure it

they would be as supported and involve in your life -they’ll shower you with attention and make sure you can do anything the world has to offer(that’s safe and in there limits) -jill would try to ignore the illness as he thinks that would make the situation worse -clive would also try but it’s more obvious he’s bothered by your illness because it reminds him of his brother -if you manage to beat your illness and survive longer than was expected that would be fantastic and you’d see them both cry with joy -if not and you just get worse or even pass away they’ll be devastated -it would take a while to get over the fact that they can’t do anything -that feeling of helplessness has plague them for most of the journey together and your passing from your illness is a nail in the coffin for them -they would try to move on and help free the world in cid’s and your name

=======Joshua + jote=============

-some one give jote a break plez -great now there’s two terminally ill people in the group -Jote would confine you to the same treatment as joshua -she would constantly check up on you when on the road -joshua is more sympathetic to your condition -joshua is dying from his eikon and you are sick from your illness -Jote and joshua would continue trying to find cures for you even when everything is lost -if you survive your illness at the end jote would be happy that you beat your illness on your own and would be proud about how strong willed you are -joshua would be the same -if you pass away before joshua did they would be heart broken and after everything is over, jote would continue her research into your illness and try to find a cure so this doesn't happen to anyone else -joshua would continue his mission in your honor

====Cid===============

-doesn't show that he’s bothered by it but inside he’s freaking devastated about it -he doesn't let your ailment ruin things and how everything is going -he takes you out more and incorporate you in activities that you might enjoy -he understand that this will affect you in the long run so he tries to include you in less missions -if you survive your illness, he’d throw a celebration for you. A small one with just the two of you -if not he’ll visit your grave every time he could -when he too passes away, he would want to be next to you

====Benedikta============

-no no no no no no no N O! -your not sick -your not ill -your NOT leaving her -she’ll down right ignore your illness until you end up exhausted and week from it -she would take her frustration on the medical staff for not curing you and would punish them if they fail to do so -slowly she would give up hope for a cure -she would lock you away to make sure you don’t get infected with anything else -she would take you out to the nieces places just to see you smile for she believes it might be the last she might see it -she would consider killing you herself so she can end this on her terms but could never bring herself to do it -if you pass from your illness, she would become empty a deeper shell of herself -would return to her more canon behavior but more depress and cruel -last resort she would beg barnabas to turn you into an akashic like him -if you live and survive, she’ll take every part of your recovery and will be more careful with you -she doesn't want to lose someone she loves -never again…

======Dion + terence==============

-also on a denial streak but more reasonable -much like Joshua and jote they would try endlessly to cure you -definitely treat you like broken glass unless you say otherwise -Both would visit you more often -after some decision, dion would try to give you lavish treatment to the best doctors to keep your condition stable -this would let the king know that you exist as Dion’s lover(that’s another issue that i might make separate headcanon if you get discovered on normal circumstances) -Terence would give you gifts and spend more time planning fun thing you all would enjoy -Dion would also take time away from his duties just to take you to do anything you wish -if you pass away, both would be devastated -If you live, they’ll be ecstatic and probably would make your relationship more public tbh -unless you still want to keep some privacy -but life would never be the same if you gotten better

====Barnabas + Sleipnir============

-not even bothered by it -they love you yes but death won’t stop them from being together -unlike everyone on this list, i don’t think they’ll try to find a cure after you given the info that your sick and it’s not curable by the technology in this world -they would spend time with you more than they already did -will be stricter with your time outside with others -if your illness becomes too much(like hair loss or bodily weakness) they would offer you to turn into an akashic much like barnabas -if you were about to die this won’t be a choice -you’ll become a akashic at the end of the day

====Hugo============

-calmer denial -like Benedikta he would be heartbroken and can’t comprehend losing you -would punish doctors who failed at curing you and won’t stop until you feel better or get rid of the ailment -unlike the others, his desire to help you could draw him away from you and bury himself into saving you -he would spend money on different experimental techniques into helping you -seeing you get worse breaks his heart and sometimes avoid seeing you like this, if you end up getting worse. -if you end up passing he’ll blame himself for not trying harder and would dedicate time and resources into making a memorial for you -if you live he’ll break down -you would hardly see this man to be completely vulnerable with you but this would be the few and i mean very few times he would crack -he loves you so much..

[palms-upturned]

The fact that disco elysium and revolutionary girl utena are both stories with suicide right at the heart of them makes me feel like I’m inside a pringles can getting shaken up. Rgu was like “if a chick cannot hatch from its shell then the egg becomes a coffin and it will die without ever being born, and the realization that you’re trapped in a seemingly inescapable system built to break and exploit you will make you wish that you could just hurry up and die, but the ability to imagine a future outside of the egg is what gives us the power to smash the shell, not only for ourselves but also for our loved ones and peers who we want to build space for in the new world.” And then disco elysium was like “imagining that new world can also make you want to die when you realize that it’s out of reach of your lifetime. You’ll hatch from your shell into a world that is being swallowed up by the consequences of every human failure, and you’ll realize that humans will never stop failing, and your own failures will make you so fucking miserable, and the uncertainty and disappointment of it all will make you wonder if it’s even worth it to try. But it is. There will be no future unless we make it, no place in the world for the people we care about unless we build it. And even on the individual level, there will always be moments of joy and beauty and love in store for you so long as you’re open to them. You don’t have to die yet. There are people to house and clothes to wash and children to bring in from the cold. This is what everything comes back to. That we continue to persist at all is a testament to our faith in one another.” And both said “love is a revolutionary force and the heart of why we make the active decision to live every day.” And both of them have forever altered my brain chemistry.

[little-engineer-who-cant]

When the past knocks on her door, Silena has to come clean

Part 4 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(Chapter 3 under cut)

Chapter 3: Strings of Heart Hanging from Bloody Lips

Summary: Clarisse and the fallout

“Do you think that I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?”

- The Doctor (Doctor Who)

(She lied. Kill her.)

(Would I have listened if she told the truth?)

(You knew gods were real.)

(I didn’t know all of this.)

(She lied.)

(How could she have ever told the truth?)

It’s a vicious cycle in his head. The sheer fact that she lied like this, easy as breathing, about everything. 

The more she talks, the worse it gets, the sheer breadth of her silence becomes clearer and clearer. The impossibility of what she’s saying makes so many little things about her line up. She lied, but how could she have told him the truth? Jason and Anna were nice, normal people, each of them a character, acting out a theater of normalcy that Silena Beauregard and whatever the hell was wearing Jason Todd’s face wanted so desperately they ignored everything until it was too late. Until they were both in too deep. 

Because that’s just it. Somewhere along this road, he fucked up and fell in love with her, with her smiles, the gentle touch, that little hint of darkness beneath the surface. The steadiness of her soul as she tucked up against his raging one. The safe harbor he’d found in a key to her apartment and in holding her hand.

(Did you fall in love with Anna? Or with Silena?)

(Is there a difference?)

(There has to be.)

“Jason,” she says softly. He realizes she’s been silent for a while now, too lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to check on…”

“Yeah.” Clarisse. That’s the injured woman’s name. Another demigod. 

His head hurts at the implications of all this. If even a fraction of what she’s saying is true…

“Do you think Wonder Woman knows? About your camp and stuff?” he blurts. Her footsteps pause. Lingering in the doorway, from the sound of it.

“I think…” there’s a slowness to her answer that indicates she’d thought about this, but she’s unsure if he’ll like it, “I think she would have to be ignorant to the point of incompetence not to. As to what she thinks… Only she can answer that.” The kettle beeps and her footsteps fade onto the carpet of the other room.

He stands up, hands going through the routine of making her tea for something to do that isn’t violent. He pours the water, starts seeping the tea to the sound of her shuffling, to a muffled and incoherent groan of pain followed by a soothing hum. Three minutes, add honey. It’s not Alfred’s tea, but she loves it like a religion.

(Don’t ignore me.) 

(Why?)

(Did she fall in love with you? Or with Jason?)

Time has never moved so slowly as it does for this fucking tea to steep. Even rising from the dead was quicker because all he had to keep him company in the coffin was sheer panic. He spoons in the honey early, pretending like his knuckles aren’t white and that the metal in his hand doesn’t creak.

(Because you know there’s a difference.)

“You noticed,” she says, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t turn around, just keeps stirring honey into the tea he’s made for her, staring at the way the water swirls. “You’re too observant not to.”

“What happened?” 

“You can look. I took off the makeup. And you know the truth, so the Mist is gone.”

“An-Silena.”

“You-” her voice cracks and his heart breaks a little further. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“It’s your name.” 

“It’s a dead girl’s name.” His hands clench at that. Two dead people, standing in a kitchen and talking. Broken shells wearing ill-fitted names but not knowing what other sounds to try on.

“Jason Todd’s been dead too, but here we are.” 

“Will you please look at me?” 

“Do you really want me to?” She’s hidden it for a long time. He’s hidden his too, under masks and makeup-

(Not since she found out.)

-and he knows what it means to look in the mirror and hate the warped vision that stares back.

“Yes.” He swallows at the calm certainty in her voice. “I want you to see. The game’s over. The play’s ended. We’re not normal and I can’t… I can’t pretend to be it now.” And that admission is what gets him to turn, to see what he had suspected for hours now, the longer she talked and he put the pieces of her behavior together again and again to reach the same conclusion in each configuration. 

The milkiness of her blind eye is piercing in the low light, framed by the bright red of acid scars melted in a diamond shape around the bottom of the socket, a few drips rolling down her cheek like tears. Lydian drakon she’d said. Lucky to have lived, but he could hear the rote, resigned repetition in that sentence. The lie she’s kept telling herself for so long she thinks it’s the truth. 

He reaches out, transfixed on how smooth the bubbled skin looks, then retracts his hand just as quickly. He doesn’t like his scars being touched unprompted unless he’s too distracted by sex to care, it’s hypocritical to intrude on her.

“It’s okay,” she pulls his hand to the too-smooth, melted tissue. “There’s not a lot of feeling.”

“I shouldn’t touch them.” But he strokes over her cheek anyways. An entirely new part of her, one he has yet to explore.

“You’re fine. It doesn’t bother me, so long as I can see your hand coming.” His thumb brushes one of the tear-tracks, an eternal shedding o f her guilt. 

(Aw, you match! So cute.)

It’s a near thing for him not to punch the brick next to her head. Instead, he presses his thumb against the rough tissue and she doesn’t flinch. 

His hand drops. 

“Get some rest,” he orders, turning away from her, from the open window, from the temptation to ignore everything that’d just happened in favor of sinking into her embrace. She doesn’t try to stop him.

He wishes she had. 

“You too,” she reminds him, ducking back into her window. 

He wishes she hadn’t gone so easily, hadn’t closed the window behind him without a lick of hesitation. The soft click sounds like another gunshot, echoing among the many of this city, but it hurts more than any bullet he’s taken before.

When he puts his helmet back on, dons the mantle, straightens his shoulders into the persona of who he has to be when his heart isn’t breaking, he tells himself it’s over. She didn’t try to make him stay.

So he won’t come back.

—

Jason’s long gone by the time Clarisse rolls to her feet and limps into the kitchen. Silena’s been staring at the stained sink for a lifetime, wondering if she’ll see the dull reflection of gun metal among the gunked rings from previous tenants. Her hand moves mechanically around and around and around the inside of her mug, wiped clean of any dregs from the tea he’d made her. A last supper. She snorts at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Clarisse rasps, thunking heavily into one of the rickety chairs. It creaks alarmingly, but holds. Silena releases a breath.

“Nothing.” 

“Who is he?” Her shoulders tense. Whatever hope she’d had that that conversation would be delayed is gone. No rest for the wicked and you have years of sin to atone for. You’re not getting away easy.

“Someone who I didn’t want to be involved.” Because she never wanted Jason to know this. Never wanted him to have to be more at risk than he already was by dragging him into the gods’ games. 

“Hm.” Silence falls between them, only broken by the squeaking of Silena’s continued wiping and Clarisse’s heavy panting. Why did it have to be you and why did it have to be now? Was it too much for me to be forgotten? She’d come to Gotham to vanish after all, but the gods hate letting things die. Love could be a punishment and a blessing, perhaps this was Aphrodite finally striking back after years of patience. Years of Silena going further and further numb, starting anew, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she’d managed to escape and then-

“How did you find this place?” Silena keeps scrubbing her cup like it isn’t already squeaky clean.

“Saw the sign for a station tagged in an alley I happened to duck into. Touched it and it led me here.”

“You’re the first then.” Everyone else already knew where she was. The tags were a fail safe, just in case.

“No I’m not,” Clarisse huffs, leaning back in her chair. 

“You’re the first person to find a tag.” The first person not in the know to stumble upon this little bastion of hope in a cesspool.

“What, does everyone else just know where you are?” Silena shoots her a look over her shoulder. “Oh.” Clarisse’s shoulders hunch, her jaw tightens and her eyes get sharper. “This place isn’t for everyone, is it?”

“No.” It’s the stone cold truth. They’re both past caring how much it hurts, the way they’ve been throwing it back and forth like a hot potato.

“Then why did you let me in?”

“Do you really think I would ever turn you away?” Clarisse doesn’t break their stare-down, her face pensive. 

“I also didn’t think you’d leave.” Ouch. And the potato has exploded in her face. The cup clangs down in the sink, forgotten.

“What else could I have done?” Silena demands. She’s been searching for that answer for years. If Clarisse tries to hand her one on a silver platter, Silena’s going to smash it into the ground and see if it shatters. 

“You could have told someone you were going.”

“Who? You?”

“Yes.”

“Clair, you could barely look at me. Why the fuck would I have told you?”

“We were friends!” Clarisse springs up, pacing with all the energy of a rabid tiger locked in a too-small cage. “We are friends!”

“Are we?” That shuts her up, making her growing agitation fizzle out like a sparkler and pop into nothingness.

“We were,” she whispers, shoulders slumping and hip hitting the counter-top hard.

“And then I betrayed you.” Silena turns back to the sink, looking out the window above it and out onto the fire escape landing. A small part of her still hopes to see him, but it’s a childish one and she knows it. When she fails to see a familiar shape, she turns around fully and stares at the rune carved into her door frame instead of the empty void outside of her apartment. It’s easier to look at that little carving than at whatever is happening on Clarisse’s face or the gaping hole outside her window. At least Clarisse is a problem easily solved by keeping her on Silena’s blind side. It unfortunately doesn’t stop her from tasting the confusing snarl of awful emotions. It’s hard enough to think, with tar sliding down the back of her throat and settling into her stomach, waiting to be retched up at any moment. She doesn’t need to see whatever expression accompanies it.

“Silena,” and Clarisse’s voice is so broken that she has to close her eyes or risk looking over and breaking her own heart again and again. “Did you really…” she clears her throat. “I… I never wanted you to vanish,” the whisper is hoarse, tortured. “I never wanted you to think… It’s been terrifying, thinking you were dead. Or worse.”

“Worse?”

“Alone.” The word is the terrible clash of a gong between them. “Because that’s what I was after you left.”

“Don’t-”

“I… I thought you knew.” Clarisse whispers and Silena can’t breathe , squeezing her eyes tighter, please, don’t say this, I hate myself enough without those words- “I thought… How could I have not wanted to keep you? I love you too much not to care about you. Even after everything. I… I thought we’d have a chance to…”

“Clair,” she’s always known, deep down, there was too much between them. But it was easy to ignore, better to have Clarisse as a friend, to value her place next to the most terrifying woman at camp and be invincible for it. “I couldn’t…” Couldn’t what? Take a chance? Look at myself? Look at you?

“Just…” Silena risks a glance up, seeing that proud head bowed in sheer defeat, shoulders rolled forward under the weight of a grief unspeakable but translated perfectly into the noxious cocktail brewing in Silena’s stomach.

“Clair...” And their eyes meet, blue to brown, a lifetime of unspoken longing and broken chances between them.

“Don’t,” Clarisse whispers. “Please. I know… I know it’s not the same. Never will be. But please, don’t leave me behind again.”

“I can’t be what you want,” and that’s the next awful truth. Silena Beauregard is long gone. The girl Clarisse had loved in the blossom of their youth had been strangled by war and a new woman, born in this city, is making her bed with the Red Hood.

“I know.” The concrete certainty is as soothing as it is distressing. “And I don’t… I’m not trying to make you choose me.” Leaving was the last straw. That unspoken truth lingers between them. “But I can’t watch you run again. Even if it’s never the same, I can’t leave you behind. Leave you alone in the world.”

“I’m not alone.” True and not true.

“Maybe not, but no one ever stays, do they? No one who gets it at least.”

“You’re running a huge risk,” Silena warns, knowing this is a losing battle. Children of Ares, this one in particular, have always been too good at battering defenses to dust with sheer stubbornness. “There are no meta-humans allowed. Batman will find you again and you might not walk away. You might…”

“I’m not far,” Clarisse cuts her off. “And you need someone watching your back.”

“This city eats people like you alive.”

“Keep me safe then?” 

“How are you trusting me?” Clarisse swallows. 

“Because I love you.” Silena can’t stop the wounded sound that breaks free of her. “However I have to, to keep you in my life.”

“Can-” Silena swallows every twisted, thorny, tarrish emotion and finds the tiniest bit of sweet hope within. “Can I think about it?”

“Take your time,” Clarisse gestures to her wrapped ribs with an exaggerated grimace. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

It feels like a warning, but she can’t help the way her treacherous little heart flutters at the thought.

—

(Why am I here?)

(Don’t ask me, I don’t know either.)

It’s a bad fucking day when even the insidious little thing burrowed into his brain won’t try to start an argument with him. 

So he indulges in a vice while perched on her fire escape. God knows he has a thousand others, but lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag really feels like a sin. It’s certainly not to avoid knocking on her window, like he has for three days now. For all he knows, the bloody woman is still here. Maybe he should leave.

If he was smart, he’d never have come. 

(You never were the wisest, were you?)  

Impulsive, reckless, idealistic and headstrong. Never wise. If he’d been wise, he’d never have gotten killed. If he was wise, he’d never have come back to Gotham. If he was wise , he’d get the fuck off her fire escape before she-

The window clicks and slides open, revealing her tired face, the unfamiliar scars on her face a stark red in the weak light coming from other windows down the street. He doesn’t know what to do with this, a tired face absent of kind smiles, eyes too dark with grief he never wanted her to know. Anna was normal, Anna was safe, Anna was his. 

Silena Beauregard is none of those.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” she says quietly, leaning out the window and resting her cheek on the heel of her hand. He exhales a steady stream of said smoke, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to the weak moonlight trickling between skyscrapers.

“What’s it gonna do, kill me?” 

“You know what I mean.” He sighs at her refusal to engage with his petty attempt at starting something. The way she’d bowed her head when he’d first barged in had told him everything. If he unloads a clip in her, she might smile again. 

(Fitting punishment, a ghost killing a traitor.)

(Shut up.)

(You’re just scared of the truth, aren’t you?)

“Yeah,” he puts the cigarette back to his lips, taking another drag. She huffs, but keeps her silence. 

(You’re scared you won’t recognize her.)

(Shut. Up.)

Exhaling, he forces himself to look at her, and not just the new parts. To find traces of Anna in her, seek out familiarity in the way her sweater slips around her collarbones, how her dark hair falls over the arm propping her head up, the way her sleeves are just a little too long and start covering her hands. His chest clenches tight at the thought that she’s just that good of an actor that he can’t find anything different besides the obvious.

“Why did you come back?” she asks, her voice a thin whisper almost lost among the sirens, the shouts, the clamor of a city. He bites on his cigarette and looks away to stop himself from blurting an answer he doesn’t know. If anything coherent would come out at all or if he’d just start spewing Pit goo like bile. 

Instead, he holds out a gloved hand towards her blindly. It’s a fifty-fifty shot she’ll take it, he wagers, if she’ll tolerate the smell sinking into her clothes.

She takes it without hesitating, accepting his help out the window and onto the fire escape and he just keeps moving her, needing to feel more than just her hand that slips from his like a leaf in the breeze. A living woman is here with him, for all that her eyes speak of death and he needs the breathing reminder in his arms. 

Curling under his arm makes her even smaller, if it weren’t for the familiar slash of a scar on her back, just visible under the dropping sweater, he could pretend everything since that fateful night was a dream. A nightmare. But he knows now, that knife looking wound is indeed from one. His fingers trace over it, making her shiver and press closer. 

Her hands don’t touch him again, remaining limp at her sides. He hates it. 

Distracting himself from the burn of anger, he tips his head away from her as the cigarette burns down, ensuring the smoke doesn’t end up as wrapped around her as he is. Closing his eyes and flicking the spent butt off into the abyss beyond the wire frame, he rests his chin on her head, breathing in the soft smell, honey and flower smell of her shampoo. She still doesn’t touch him.

“How’s your… friend?”  he rasps at last, opening a conversation he’s been avoiding. 

(But you came back.)

“Alive and staying that way,” she murmurs. “And that’s better than some I’ve had.”

“That good huh?” Whoever the woman on the couch is, it’s complicated. He can tell from the way Silena can’t tear herself away from a place she so very clearly doesn’t want to be. Because this is Silena’s past. Not Anna’s. Anna isn’t real.

(Neither are you.)

“Hm,” she shifts a bit, pressing her head harder into his clavicle, fingers looping in his belt. He holds his breath. “There was… nothing. After the war. For the people on the wrong side. But we were- are still prey. Still hunted. Only now we’re left to die, full stop, instead of someone even pretending to care. So, I opened my door. The people that I help… there’s really no other option, for them to have set foot in this city at all.”

“Why are you here then?”

“I… don’t really have a good answer for that,” she admits to the hollow under her sternum. “I really don’t. I just came here because no one would look here. And then I never left. Then I met you.”

“Hm.” Silence fell, or as much silence as Gotham could ever provide. His still-gloved hand slips under her sweater, resting on the dip of her spine, the tip of his pinky slipping beneath the band of her sweatpants as his thumb runs back and forth over the small stretch of spine it can reach. Her thumb does the same to his jeans and he melts into the tiniest brush of her skin as the trapped air in his lungs releases.

No one has touched him in three days. Not since he’d left her apartment with no intentions of coming back. He tries to ignore how his chest aches at the thought, his stomach clenches around nothing but nausea and bitterness. No one had touched him in three days and no one was going to until he dragged himself here.

“What do you want to know?” she asks eventually.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes.” He blinks down at her instant, convinced reply as she pulls far enough away to look up. “I promised myself the night you broke in. I just hadn’t found the courage yet.” Oh.  

“Who is she?” 

“Clarisse…” Her voice trails off, barely more than a breath, her eyes flitting away from him, looking out over the railing and off down into the city. Like her mind is a thousand leagues away, ghosts flickering in the depths of those sea-blue pools. “She loved me. And I loved her.” Past tense. “But not enough to stay.”

“And now?” Maybe he’s digging his grave all over again, waiting for her to give him the killing blow by stabbing him in the heart. The past will win over the present, he’s living proof of that because what is his present but trying to avenge the past?

“Now I don’t love her enough to leave.” His arm tightened around her waist, fingers digging into her skin. “I can’t go back. Because I did awful things, but I don’t regret the ones they want me to repent for.”

“Then what do you regret?” She pulls away from him then, backing away and choosing to huddle on herself instead. Jason’s blood goes cold alongside his skin, growing more and more frigid the longer the silence between them stretches.

“He promised,” she whispers at last, arms wrapped so tightly around her middle it looks like she might squeeze herself in two. “Luke-” her voice breaks, “he promised that Charlie would be safe. That nothing would happen. But…” She’s shaking, but her eyes are a thousand miles away as she stares at his boots. “I told Luke everything. I told him that Charlie was coming. Percy was coming too, Percy was the lynch-pin, if Percy died, then we would win. Charlie would get away safely while Percy died. That was the plan. That was the deal.”

“He lied.” It’s an easy story to finish, even if he’s fuzzy on the details. So long as she’s talking, he’s getting information and will know what questions to ask when they’re both a bit less…

(Oh so there’s going to be a later?)

“It’s my fault Charlie’s dead. I loved him and I killed him. Because I was stupid enough to believe a man who sold his soul to a Titan could be trusted to keep his word to a worthless little spy.” And there it is. Out in the open. 

(She’s betrayed someone in your position before.)

“They called me a black widow,” she continues quietly, “murdering my own lover. It doesn’t matter if it’s not what I wanted. It’s what happened. Intentions are meaningless. And I only have myself to blame. I could have said something, could have pushed Charlie to send someone else, could have done any number of things, but I didn’t. I told Luke and I let them go. I didn’t lift a fucking finger.”

(She loved him and she killed him. You’ll be next.)

But Jason’s already died. There’s very little about that particular aspect of life that scares him now.

“I was so angry,” her voice fell further. “I blamed Percy for abandoning him. I was stupid and reckless and I-” she cuts herself off on a hyperventilating gasp. “I told Luke about Clarisse too. I- I told him…” Silena looks up, mismatched gaze going right through him and into a specter that’s long gone from this world. “It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter. I’m paying for my mistake. I…”

“Why did you tell him anything at all?” He has to know. His mother had sold him to the Joker. Why had she done what she’d done? What had driven her to sacrifice someone she loved?

(Will you leave me to die?)

“My mother Claimed me as a fuck you to another god. It almost never happened. I’d already been at camp for a year before Aphrodite bothered to look down and point me out and even then it was only for pride.” Her fear twists then, face contorting with a rage he didn’t think the kind and docile Anna-

(This is Silena. This is the truth.)

-capable of before. “There were thirty of us then, in a cabin designed for twelve. Luke was the Hermes counselor and it was his job to take care of all of us. We all got stuffed there, if no god Claimed us as theirs. All that resentment and rage in one spot, it got to be a lot. There were… A lot of us hated our parents and it wasn’t a secret. Part of me never forgave my mother for waiting so long, but a lot of kids never got Claimed at all. Luke… He got tired of it. He started talking, talking about ways to make it better, to force the gods hands so they could see their children’s suffering. But… The gods have never cared before. They didn’t then. So Luke made a deal…” It was an easy story to finish. Make a deal with the devil when you don’t see another way out of Hell.

“Which Titan?”

“Kronos. But none of us knew that at first,” she huffs, a bitter little smirk on her face. “We just knew there was a benefactor with a grudge and our own were so gods-damned wide that we didn’t care. We just wanted a fight. To force our parents to finally look down and see us, see us as their children and not just their soldiers.” Well. Jason’s all too familiar with that feeling. “Tired of recreating legend after legend to prove our worth-” 

( Tired of being measured up to another kid who was long moved on.)

“Silena.” She stops mid sentence. “Why did you tell Luke about whatever it was that killed…” It feels wrong to say the man’s name, no matter how dead he is. Like he’d cross some unspoken line and she’d shatter at the sound. 

“Because it was an opportunity to get Percy out of the way,” she whispers. “The prophecy was about Percy. But if Percy won, then everything we’d sacrificed for, any chance of forcing the gods to change or die would have gone up in flames and by that point we had given so much-” her voice cracks again and he clenches his fists to stop himself from grabbing her and holding her together until she stops falling apart. “How could I have not? But how could I have? How-” she slides down the wall, sitting on the half rusted steel just below her window, staring into her palms as her body starts shaking with everything she’s held in for God knows how long. “We all sacrificed so much and now none of us have anything to show for it but scars and nightmares. The gods have made all their new vows but what fucking worth do they have? Vows promising death don’t mean anything to the divine. It’s only a matter of time before it all starts over again.”

Crouching, he reaches out again, his hand slowly slipping around the back of her neck, Settling his fingers against the bottom of her jaw easily, his thumb stroking over her neck in time with her pulse. Like the steady beat of waves against a shore, back and forth, back and forth. A comfort and a quick kill, he hasn’t decided yet.

(Yes you have.)

“It was all built on sand,” she breathes, “I knew that from the beginning and yet I was still taken by surprise when the sea washed it away in the end. Everything I had built shattered in my hands when the Princess Andromeda happened. I turned away from Kronos only for my attempt at making myself pay to fail. I survived the drakon’s poison. I…” she swallows, voice thickening around tears, “I had to live with myself after. Dying was the coward’s way out but… I wish it had worked, but that’s in the past. If the Fates decree my time isn’t done, then I will continue to take whatever this life throws at me. I have to keep moving onwards in the face of the gods’ rage.”

“And you picked Gotham.” She snorts, pitching forward until her forehead dug into his knee. The back of her neck offered up like a sacrificial lamb, one quick jerk and it would all be done and-

Her fingers slip around his wrist, thumb mirroring the pattern he’s tracing on her on his own pulse. A pulse that shouldn’t exist.

“Maybe second chances are bullshit, maybe I got one, but… I always heard that no one in their right mind comes here.” Her head twists, good eye peering up at him. “This city’s full of awful things and nothing divine will touch it. And that makes it safe. And gods damn it, I lost enough of my life already, Jason. So fuck their sanity. I refuse to think that I’m crazy for wanting to live.” His hand stills. 

“Playing at being normal,” he whispers and he can’t pretend that his voice doesn’t break. “But we’re not.” 

“We can be,” her grip tightens and a determination shines in her eyes that he saw at the bar when she’d refused to let him duck out of their conversation. Determination to live . “To each other, we can be. No masks, no games. Jason…” He’s tempted, he’s so very tempted to grab what she’s offering with both hands and wring everything out of it that he can get. Her hand is warm on his skin, her door is open-

(Her old love is bleeding on her couch-)

“I-” Her grip loosens.

“You don’t have to answer.” Her eyes close, breath warming his skin even through denim. “Just know you can always come home.” He looks up, unable to look at her anymore, eyes colliding with the stranger’s as she stares out at them through the open window, her face a twisted complexity of emotion, taking in how they’re twisted together on this tiny fire escape landing, framed by whatever new hell Gotham has opened in flames and gunfire while they navigated each other.

Silena’s past, watching her rest in the deadly arms of her present without fear, neither of them knowing what to do with the other.

Clarisse’s jaw clenches, her eyes harden even as her breathing stays a shuddering mess. Jason prepares for her to clamber out here too, for a fight, for yelling, for something that will let him take out the swirling confusion in his head, the itching under his skin.

She doesn’t. She stays in Silena’s room. She watches and as the silence stretches and Silena slumps further into his arms, Clarisse’s lips move, slow and deliberate, despite the swelling. The words she mouths ring in Jason’s head like a gong. Keep her safe.  

Keep her safe. He stares at the top of Silena’s head for a long moment. She’s been keeping herself safe, but when he looks up to somehow remind Clarisse of that, she’s gone. 

The window is empty. It’s just them on the fire escape. 

Keep her safe. Her neck is bared to him and the world like an offering, her good and bad eyes are closed. 

Keep her safe. He hasn’t done that since the moment he stumbled into her life.

Keep her safe. Well she’s not safe out here. So he picks her up, lets her lay against him as trusting as a newborn, and he steps inside. 

Keep her safe. He seals every entrance he can, ignoring where the other woman is now posted up that fucking vinyl covered couch, re-bandaging her own arm with a knife sitting nearby, watching his every move with sharp eyes. 

Keep her safe. And he leaves, because he can’t do that if he stays.

[daylighteclipsed]

Thinking again about the end of CoM as a metaphor for repressing trauma vs facing it to heal and grow as a person and I really just

It really does feel intentional that what Sora goes through in CoM — losing his memories and almost losing himself — is a lot like what Sora describes being a heartless was like: “I was lost in the darkness. I couldn’t find my way. As I stumbled through the dark, I started forgetting things — my friends, who I was… The darkness almost swallowed me.”

Both halves of CoM are visual representations of what Sora and Riku each went through when they fell/almost fell to darkness in KH1. Riku’s memories are devoid of people because he cast them from his heart. Sora’s memories are full of people he forgets because he sacrificed his heart. And if we are supposed to see CoM as a near-death journey/an exploration of the unconscious, it is pretty on point for Marluxia to have a grim reaper aesthetic. Sora’s battling death.

Anyway, that’s why Data Sora’s decision to accept the loss of the memories of his friends and face that pain in Coded, live with it, is so significant.

Because that’s what the real Sora failed to do in the real Castle Oblivion. He never should’ve forgotten what happened there. He should’ve accepted those losses — and the pain attached to them — knowing that even if he can’t remember his friends, they remember him. Even if he doesn’t know them, he remembers caring about them. And even if he can’t recall specific memories, they’re not gone. He’ll remember them, some day. And in the meantime, the people he loves will help him shoulder the burden.

In a figurative sense, Sora has never left Castle Oblivion because he’s never accepted this pain. He has never moved on past this point, unlike Riku who decides to face Ansem, the representation of his trauma, and leave the castle, leave the darkness, to begin walking the road to dawn — the road to recovery. Sora’s still there, still under that dark night sky.

And now, after sacrificing himself again, there’s a very real chance he’s forgetting things and losing himself again, and surprise, surprise — look where he is.

Tied to a new character whose name means “night sky” to boot… Trauma has a way of biting us in the butt when we don’t deal with it properly. The past has a way of chaining us when we don’t move forward… Sora’s gonna have to do it right this time. He’s gonna have to face his pain and accept it if he wants to step forward into the light and exist again.

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc—"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 14

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: language, dinosaurs chomping people!, gory injury, graphic descriptions of blood

Word count: ~34.7k (14 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @howlingmadlady @heresthefanfiction @ocfairygodmother please let me know if you want added to the list

This is another long boi - please enjoy my extremely self indulgent fic and I hope you all liked the new Dominion trailer!

Read on Ao3

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

Here I Go Again - Whitesnake

Lori sighed in exasperation and slumped back in her swivel chair, watching the outcome of yet another failed hatching play out. She was becoming increasingly indifferent towards such disasters. Sure, it was sad. Little lives that never made it out into the world. But being sad didn’t improve survival rates, so she had long stopped feeling remorse.

Still, it was hard not to be sour about months of painstaking work and constant monitoring with nothing to show for it, yet again. This time the humidity wasn’t high enough. Last night a staff member had reported tapping coming from inside the shells, but they’d taken an unusually long time to progress any further. Lori knew that could only mean one thing. The eggs were too dry, too hard for the tiny bodies within to break through. Somebody must not have been fast enough closing the incubator lid. The few embryos that had made it this far were now stuck, trapped inside ovoid coffins.

Shame, a real shame. Lori tutted and drummed her nails on the armrest. The laboratory had been under her command for…how long now? And they still hadn’t got the procedure down pat. People were making careless mistakes.

It wasn’t unusual to lose a whole batch at once, so why couldn’t she just get up and leave? That’s what she would normally do. Come back once the eggs were silent, and then dispose of them in those funny-smelling biological waste bags.

She got up to head for the door, but changed her mind and took a slow lap around the room, her thoughts going a mile a minute.

Don’t interfere. Can’t interfere.

She listened for a long time, pacing back and forth as the faint squeaks and tapping from inside the eggs got weaker and weaker, until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

Screw it, we’re already playing God.

Lori wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she grabbed a pair of tweezers and a spray bottle of distilled water from the bench and set to work.

Just this once. Deep breath. Here we go.

Spray with the water, then peel away tiny fragments of shell with the tweezers. Spray and peel. Spray and peel. Over and over and over again until she could clear a breathing hole for each of the three infants she had chosen to save. The membrane inside the shell must be kept wet. If not it would collapse and suffocate them.

Lori had to use the utmost care with the tweezers too. If she nicked a vessel in the membrane, peeled too much shell away before the blood supply retracted, the infants would bleed out. Extremely delicate work, and once or twice her heart was in her mouth when she thought she’d blown it.

She didn’t know how long she’d been at it, Lori had never related so much to Sisyphus in her life, but her back was aching from hunching over the worktop by the time she was done.

“Shit.” She blinked under the harsh laboratory lights, admiring her efforts. “Guess I have a conscience after all.”

Lori was looking at three alive but very weak…Styracosaurus? Triceratops? A new species from Wu’s Lucky Dip? She didn’t even know. She shouldn’t have helped them, but she didn’t regret it. Not yet, anyway.

A short while later Lori was taking a sitting-down nap in her chair, face to the heavens when the door to the hatchery quietly opened and a nervous voice called for her.

“Dr. Ruso-“

“Not now.” She snapped, pulled back into the present moment before she was ready.

“Please, you’ve got to-“

Lori hurled the tweezers in the direction of the voice in a fit of anger, hearing them bounce to the floor with metallic pings. “I am really not in the m-“

“She got out.”

“Who?” But Lori already knew. “You’ve got to be shitting me!”

The baby raptor. That spawn of Satan. She’d finally managed it.

Lori was slammed with the guilt that she had seriously messed up and now someone else would pay for it with a bite, or worse. There would be a report, possibly an investigation. Management would find out that she couldn’t handle the creature. That thing was dangerous. And now it was loose.

Did I not shut the kennel properly? Impossible.

“Where is it?” Lori demanded an answer.

“It? I, uhm-“

“She! Where is she?!”

“We don’t know.”

Lori let loose a torrent of expletives and sent the chair flying as she barged out of the room, the hatchlings abandoned on the workbench. They were still crying pathetically, not warm enough outside of the incubator and losing moisture again. Lori hadn’t finished with them, but now she had bigger problems.

Her furious orders echoed back to the lab, drowning out the plaintive chirping from the hatchlings as she rallied her staff. “That animal cannot escape! Lock down the building!”

***

“Waiting another hour won’t kill them. You do know what happens to the goats, don’t you?” Muldoon was sceptical about Lizzy’s dedication to feeding them before mid-day, as if they were a herd of reverse Gremlins. But he couldn’t deny the nearby bleating was already at an ear-splitting volume.

“Permanent sabbatical? Taken to a nice farm up-island?” Lizzy acted oblivious before rolling her eyes. “Of course I do! We have to feed the carnivores somehow! They still deserve a happy life before the big chomp. Really, I don’t mind doing it.”

“She talks to them.” Kathy cut in. “She maa’s and they maa back. She finally feels understood.”

“Recognising one of their own.” Isaac leaned against Kathy’s side to whisper theatrically in her ear.

Rico smiled but didn’t join in on the banter. Despite Kathy’s recent efforts to get him to open up, he tended to stay quiet if Lizzy was around.

“Not averse to headbutting anyone I don’t like, but that’s where the similarity ends.” Lizzy muttered. “Come on, it’ll save us time later?”

“Fine, but don’t be too long.” Muldoon agreed. “Ten minutes is more than enough.”

Lizzy mm-hmmed her agreement and hopped down from the vehicle.

“And don’t go getting attached.” He reminded her.

Lizzy thumped the door twice with her fist. “Could say the same to you, might be losing some of us next week.”

The final decision of who worked with which dinosaurs was fast approaching. Everyone seemed to be getting increasingly highly-strung in anticipation, elbow-jostling for the job they wanted. Lizzy wasn’t sure which section she hoped to end up on anymore. Carnivores had been enlightening, to say the least.

Kathy waved out of the back window as the Jeep drove off, the roar of the engine completely drowned out as the goats realised what the nice lady was about to do for them and unleashed aural Hell.

For the moment, Lizzy thought everything was going rather well. But what happened next made her wish more than anything she hadn’t stopped to feed the goats by herself.

***

8 minutes later

Lizzy focused on her own stomach as she made her way back for dinner alone. Sometimes María made empanadas, some savoury and some sweet, both of them delicious. She really hoped it wasn’t Empanada Day, since she’d almost certainly be the last one back after the goat detour and they’d be long gone. Maybe Kathy would save her one, but that lawyer Gennaro seemed to have mighty deep pockets.

She took the jungle path, blaming Gerry for Whitesnake being stuck in her head, she couldn’t stop herself from humming along out of tune. He always cranked the volume-

The Hell was that?!

She had been distracted, not totally paying attention, but that was unmistakably the tyrannosaur roaring. Very close by. In the wrong location for her paddock.

Lizzy tensed and partially ducked behind a tree root, checking for footholds should she need to scramble upwards.

Rexy got out? What’s happening?

Some sort of commotion was happening over in the undergrowth to her right, the birds in the canopy above had fallen silent. Lizzy mapped the island in her head and worked out that she had to be near the Maiasaur paddock. Medium herbivores, personally one of her favourites-

Someone shouted, and that Deep Southern twang could only belong to one person.

Tom was drowning in quicksand maybe? Strangled by a boa constrictor perhaps? It didn’t sound like he was in pain, he was angry.

But the unspoken rule of the wilderness was that if someone yelled then you came running to assist. So, against her wishes, Lizzy forced herself to move, creeping forward, then jogging in the direction of the voices. More yells joined in on the cacophony and she broke into a sprint.

Lizzy fished around in her shorts pocket for her radio. “Kennedy. Come in. Are you alright? Over.”

Nothing. Battery was dead. Run faster.

The prep room attached to the Maiasaur paddock gates loomed out of the foliage, Lizzy could see the blurry outlines of Tom and Larry in the perspex window before she burst through the door. Weirdly, they looked like they were arguing.

“What the Hell is going on in here?!” Lizzy panted, leaning against the wall. “Why are you yelling?”

Both the men instantly stopping bickering and turned to scowl at her.

“It’s fine. We can handle it.” Tom moved sideways to block the view from the other window into the paddock.

“Handle what?” Lizzy looked back and forth, trying to see over Tom’s shoulder. “I heard Rexy nearby. What’s happening out there?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Hey, Tom, mate-“ Larry started before he was interrupted as Lizzy’s temper snapped.

“Move, dickhead!”

Tom’s shoulders sagged and he finally stepped aside.

Lizzy’s jaw dropped at what she saw. Out in the paddock, standing in the middle of a herd of barging dinosaurs, Travis and Julian were side-stepping, panicked, waving their arms. A startling amount of red liquid stained the dusty ground below them. Someone was badly injured. She couldn’t tell if it was human or dinosaur.

Shit.

Is- is Rexy in there? With them?!

Lizzy just stared in horror. It had been drummed into the new animal handlers over and over: Do not go into the herbivore paddocks without a senior member of staff present. Do not go into the carnivore paddocks period.

She rounded on the two men in front of her. “You, explain.” Pointing at Tom, then Larry. “And you, if you haven’t already, get hold of Muldoon and Harding and tell them to come here now. This is a Mayday. I’d do it myself but my radio’s dead.”

Larry raised his own radio to his mouth while Tom shot him a sideways look. “We’ve already called it in.”

The radio was slowly lowered back to Larry’s belt.

“What did they say? Where the Hell is Richardson?” Lizzy was trying her best to stay calm and not throttle anyone.

“We can go into the paddock to deal with it. Mike left five minutes ago, he said something about empanadas…I don’t know, okay?!” Tom ran a hand over his hair, unable to keep his cool any longer.

Larry was shaking his head slowly and casting worried glances out of the window at his teammates.

“This isn’t making any sense. Why’s the herd stampeding? Someone’s hurt!” Lizzy pointed out of the window.

Larry rubbed his face furiously and then spoke up, even with Tom shooting him death glares. “We were just messing around before scran time, yeah? I don’t know what happened…some of these buttons must be linked up to the PA system. Tom leaned against one - yeah, it was you, mate - and next thing we know a Rexy roar gets blasted into the paddock.”

Lizzy nodded, relieved that the real tyrannosaur was still contained. “Cue mayhem. So that’s dinosaur blood, not the boys?”

“Yeah, that happened before they went in. They heard the scream and…we couldn’t stop them, I guess…” Larry tailed off.

“Fine. We’re definitely allowed to go in the paddock?” Lizzy checked one last time. It didn’t seem right to her, but maybe they had permission to try and stabilise the wounded animal before Gerry arrived? And the Maiasaurs were friendly enough most of the time, practically like big cows.

But cows could still kill you if they were pissed off enough.

Larry glanced at Tom again and nodded, his eyes flickering downwards.

She felt compelled to go and help. There was an injured dinosaur on the ground, probably bellowing in agony and fright. Sooner or later Travis and Julian were going to get sidelined by a tail-swing, or trampled. It would be like playing American football without a helmet or shoulderpads. The pair of them couldn’t manage, there wasn’t time. Every second they wasted could mean another casualty.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked suspiciously, wary of Lizzy going near the phone.

“Helping.” She pored over the control panel. Which button did you hit?”

“The blue one, I think.” Larry offered. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to press it again, and pray that it does what I want it to.” She grinned, adrenaline kicking in. “Got to scare the rest of the herd off somehow before the boys get squashed.”

“You’re insane.” Tom growled. “You’re going to make things worse.”

“Maybe.” Lizzy rested her fingers on the button. “But things are already pretty bad.” She pressed it down.

Travis and Julian covered their ears as another tyrannosaur roar thundered into the paddock. At close range it was petrifying, and like a lion’s guttural rumble it made their hair stand on end.

It had the desired effect and the rest of the herd took off at speed, leaving the fallen animal behind in a cloud of dust.

Lizzy was flat-out running into the paddock just as Tom hit the control panel to close the secondary gate behind her and Larry, hot on her heels.

Remarkable, they’ve never even met Rexy and they still know that noise is bad news, pure instinct.

As she got closer she could see the injured Maiasaur was only a juvenile, but she was in an awful state. The pool of blood visible from the prep room was nothing. She was already shivering, going into shock. The whites of her eyes flashed and bloody foam gathered around her mouth. Lizzy could see why now. A broken branch had gone straight through her thigh muscle and protruded out of the other side. It had to be touching bone.

Oh shit, this is bad. Really bad, poor baby.

If Lizzy had the means, she would have culled on sight. The animal would probably never walk again. But no Harding, no Muldoon, no mercy. She was going to have to try something else.

Lizzy and Julian exchanged glances. “It’s bad right?” He sounded devastated.

She nodded. “It’s really bad, but we’ll do what we can, yes?” Lizzy felt the deep tranquility taking over her body that she was always thankful for in dicey situations. Her hands steadied and her mind cleared.

Travis wiped his forehead. “We are in so much shit!”

“The branch must have come down in the storm last week, guess we missed it during clean-up.” Julian explained helplessly. “Now she’s a kebab.”

“See if you can get closer, to hold her head.” Lizzy suggested.

“Easy, girl-“ Julian moved too quickly in his willingness to help, and the dinosaur screeched in alarm. She writhed and twisted, struggling to free herself from the tree she was currently pinned to, mounted like a butterfly.

Lizzy tried to make her voice low and comforting. “Okay, easy now, Try again.”

She paused for a second and tried to assess what to do once Julian had a hold of her, keeping half an eye on the the herd to make sure they weren’t circling back to defend their little one.

The more the dinosaur panicked the more blood she would lose from her heart rate increasing. Julian tried to move slowly, but he took too long, and the decision of what happened next was made for them.

The dinosaur suddenly bucked and with the last of her strength managed to push herself away from the ground. Lizzy felt a warm spray fall diagonally across her body as the trapped limb was ripped free of the branch, the wound rhythmically pulsing out spurts of blood.

Shit, it’s the femoral. She’s toast.

She’d almost certainly die if Gerry wasn’t there in the next few minutes. Even then she might not make it. But they had to give her the chance.

“Travis, grab her!” Lizzy ordered, he was closest. “We lose her in the trees, we won’t get her back!”

Travis scrambled to do as she said. His hands closed on the juvenile’s shoulders, then in a panic she jerked upwards and he lost his grip. He fumbled and caught her again and wrestled her to the ground, lying across her side, pinning her.

“Whatever you do, don’t let go.” Lizzy ran forward, plunging her hand into the mangled mess of flesh, trying desperately to keep blood inside the body as the dinosaur groaned and tried to flee. “I need someone’s belt, now! Get it around her leg and pull.”

Good on Julian, he was pale but did exactly as she asked, fumbling with the leather strap with shaking hands.

“Hold it tight.” She instructed him.

Lizzy didn’t dare let go of the leg wound to swap places, but Larry was helping Travis hold the Maiasaur steady. They had run out of bodies. It wasn’t enough, her hands were too small-

“Hold up-“ Tom appeared beside her and shouldered Lizzy to one side, closing his much bigger hands over hers, sealing the wound. “Your grubby paws ain’t doin’ shit.”

Lizzy couldn’t believe it, touched that he’d finally decided to help. That he was helping her, of all people.

“Thanks.” She murmured.

He just grunted in response.

She could hear Larry desperately trying to muster the veterinarian on the radio with his one free hand.

“What’s going on Larry?”

“Gerry’s not responding, but Mike knows, he’s on his way back.”

Oh great, just what we need.

“Keep checking her colour.”

Travis peeled back the dinosaur’s top lip. “She’s nearly white. Shit, we haven’t got long.”

“You do realise we’re inside of several million dollars worth of animal right now?” Tom muttered.

Lizzy barked out a sharp laugh, hysterically optimistic, she had a nervous habit of joking in situations like this. “Wouldn’t it be unfortunate if I lost my ring?”

“Good luck convincing the insurance you really did misplace it in a dinosaur body cavity.” He shifted his weight closer to her.

Julian was staring at them both from over the dinosaur’s leg. “This, this is what it took for you guys to start getting along?”

“I’m not doing it for Lizzy.” Tom snapped.

“Yeah, don’t jinx it.” She shook her head.

“You guys hear that? A Jeep just pulled up.” Tom’s forehead creased in worry. “Oh man, this really doesn’t look good.”

Lizzy nudged him. “Whatever happens, I am not leaving her until Gerry gets here. She’s either pulling through or we’re dispatching humanely.” It was pretty obviously going to be the latter, if she even lasted that long.

They heard the prep room door open and the veterinarian finally hurried up behind Lizzy with his medical bag. “Got it. You can let go now. Goddamn it, what a mess.”

She waited until the millisecond Gerry’s hands replaced her own and then sank back on her haunches and wiped her forehead, realising that her palms came away crimson and her face was probably now smeared with blood. Looking down, her clothes were ruined, both her polo and shorts had been caught with the arterial spray. She must look like the damsel in distress in a slasher film. It was all down her legs, all the way to her socks.

“Liz-“ Gerry started to say, when-

“Elizabeth!” Bellowed over the intercom into the paddock, and the dinosaur beneath them twitched violently in fear. The herd started calling for her from further down the paddock.

“Jesus Christ…” Gerry muttered.

Lizzy looked up in the direction of the prep room. Mike was standing in the window glaring directly at her.

Oh shit, here we go.

Her palms started to sweat and she thought she might finally be sick.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you better get out of there right now or you’re off this island before sundown!”

“I didn’t- it wasn’t just me-“ But nobody else was listening, still preoccupied with the Maiasaur. Only Tom glanced up, looking stricken, before ducking his head and reminding Julian to keep the tourniquet pulled tight.

Coward.

Tom wasn’t going to own up to his part in this.

She had to face the music alone. Lizzy trudged into the prep room. She looked formidable, bloodstained, hair sticking straight up and a scowl that would make the bravest man think twice.

Mike seemed to pale a little at her appearance but bolstered forward, jabbing a finger at her, right between the eyes.

“Explain yourself.”

Lizzy took a deep breath. She realised now that she’d been deceived into helping them, and there was no way in Hell the handlers would ever have been allowed in the paddock by themselves. The head-to-foot blood spatter was a big red target, marking her as guilty.

They’d lied to her. They never radioed it in before she got there. Then they’d tried to cover it up.

She swallowed. “Okay, I’ll be honest, I didn’t actually see what happened when the juvenile was injured, I was walking past and I heard shouting in the paddock, so I came running to help-“

“You are not the one in charge here.” Mike’s voice was icy cold, cutting her off. “None of these decisions were yours to make. Why were you out in the jungle by yourself? Highly suspicious if you ask me.”

“Well, where were you that was so important while all this was happening?” Lizzy couldn’t stop the sarcastic edge from creeping into her voice. “And I was feeding the damn goats! Ask Muldoon.”

“Watch your tone, young lady.”

She saw red then. How dare he young-lady her? She was nearly thirty-four! Lizzy couldn’t help it, she fired back at him before she even knew what she was going to say. Her Glasgow brogue always returned when she was emotional and with it came bags of attitude.

“What the Hell is your problem with me?! I did what needed doing, and none of us were hurt!” Her voice tailed off as she realised she was yelling. “Nobody was hurt...”

The door to the prep room creaked open and it was suddenly very busy in the small space. Kathy and Muldoon had finally turned up, aside from Harding, the two people she needed most by her side, and they had missed everything. They had only arrived in time to see her lose her shit at the Animal Supervisor. Now she really felt like crying.

It wasn’t fair. For the first time since she arrived on Isla Nublar she wished she was back in New York. Miles away, watching crappy daytime television with Simon. Mundane, but safe. No dinosaurs. She bit her lip to stop it wobbling.

“Oh-“ Kathy cried as her hands went to her mouth, only just stopping herself from rushing forward to pat Lizzy down and make sure none of the blood was hers.

Mike’s mouth pressed into a thin line now that he had an audience. Oh boy, was she in real trouble. “Elizabeth, you’re suspended, effective immediately. I’ll drive you back, we’re having a talk in my office. Muldoon, make sure everyone else stays here to help Harding clear up this mess. That includes you, Katherine.”

Lizzy stood, stunned and at a loss. She didn’t know what else to do. Part of her hoped Muldoon would say something to defend her, like he had in the visitor centre on Day One. But he had seen nothing, and she was red-handed. He couldn’t.

Somebody’s radio crackled to life.

“Richardson?” It was Harding. “Hello, Mike are you there? Okay...we lost her. But for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have done much better than Liz in the circumstances, so go easy on her. Over and out.”

Richardson was already out of the door and gone. He hadn’t heard. The Jeep burst into life. It was so unfair. He didn’t even know what had really happened and he was placing the blame solely on her. Technically she had broken protocol, but she had only done it to try and save a life. She thought her colleagues had her back for a moment there. But where were they now?

Lizzy kept her head down as she followed Mike out of the building.

As she passed Muldoon she dared to look up, but couldn’t read his expression. At least he didn’t seem as mad as Mike was. Kathy looked close to tears.

Lizzy managed a tired shrug before she reluctantly went outside, got into Mike’s Jeep and they drove in silence back to the visitor centre.

All because she stopped to feed the goats.

***

*PRIVATE & CONFIDENTIAL*

Do not proceed unless intended recipients.

! Urgent !

FAO: Dr Henry Wu, John Hammond c/o Donald Gennaro

DA(4) Incident Report #0016

Name: Dr Lori Ruso

Location: Isla Sorna (Site B) Hatching Facility

Incident: Specimen VM2308 (juvenile) escaped holding kennel, located by staff and trapped in dead end, highly distressed (vocalizing). Seemed to calm at sight of Ruso, who warned other staff not to approach. VM2308 allowed contact from Ruso and appeared to show affection, but attacked before restraint could be completed. Three other staff required to return specimen to kennel.

Injuries sustained: Complete amputation of left index finger, partial amputation of left middle finger (to 2nd knuckle), lacerations to face and palms of both hands. Reattachment of digits not possible, were consumed by specimen.

Course of action: ???

PLEASE ADVISE

***

Thanks for reading!

The paddock scene was one of the first I ever wrote for this fic, after a year and a half and many iterations it’s a good feeling to finally post it, although it has changed A LOT!

If there are any plot holes please let me know - I obviously know everything that’s happening but I hope as a first time reader it makes sense. I have simply read it too many times by now. What are words.

[stxphxn-strange]

playing pretend

a/n: hello hello hello! i have a prompt fill for this Dark!Stephen AU from @ironstrangeprompts and im just gonna post it before i can start second guessing my writing lmao

tw: mentions of torture, injury, implied past abuse

Prompt: Dark!Stephen AU. The avengers never really notice Stephen’s pacifist to-a-fault superheroing style until one day a magical incident corrupts him/magical entity possesses him. They’re treated to a completely unhinged and lethal Stephen, the avengers realize just how much Stephen was holding back, what with his quick work dispatching all of them, resulting in very heavy injuries. However, he takes special interest with Tony Stark, whom he has been dating for a few months now. He has Tony all strung up in the middle of the battlefield in front of the other broken and beaten avengers, he taunts and tortures him. “Being a doctor and a sorcerer is so very useful, I can break you in very precise manners, put you back together and then do it again.” When he gets bored of Tony’s screams and decides to end him permanently, Stephen suddenly snaps back to normal. The real Stephen has been battling internally to gain back control, knowing that he’s about to kill the love of his life gives him the final push to break free. He portals them all to safety and to receive medical help. Cue heavy angst and Stephen trying to make it up to them but especially Tony, who insists that everything is fine and that he knows it wasn’t the real Stephen. However they both know that Tony is just putting up a brave front and is undoubtedly traumatized by the incident. Up to the author on if they want to end it in a bleak or hopeful tone.

It took Tony a few minutes to register his surroundings when he woke up. He wasn’t lying in a makeshift coffin of bent metal, broken bones, and the ruins of the building. The familiar baritone, the melody of his waking world, wasn’t hollow and cruelly taunting him. Stephen sounded like himself, soothing and loving and reassuring but worried and tired all the same. Tony heard guilt in his partner’s voice, delineating his dream, his memory, from the present. He wanted to follow that voice, the real Stephen’s voice, and leave the past behind them. Guilt was eating away at Stephen as he tried to calm Tony down and wake him up. He defaulted to the standard promises and phrases when Tony had nightmares, but this time was different. This time Stephen was the cause of the nightmare, and he knew it. No matter how much Tony said it wasn’t his fault, that everything was okay, Stephen knew he had to repair the pieces of Tony’s trust he’d obliterated.

Tony thrashed again in his sleep, feebly kicking the air in front of him just like he did on the battlefield. “Stop!”

“Sweetheart,” Stephen began, unsure of what to say. “Tony, wake up. You’re safe, no one will hurt you.”

“Stephen!” Tony groaned and thrashed again, his eyes still shut as he fought to wake up. “This isn’t you… don’t do this.”

Stephen barely held back tears as he spoke again. “It’s over Tony, I’m back. I’m me again. I won’t hurt you, I promise I’ll never hurt you as long as I live.”

Tony was shaking when he finally woke up, unsure if he was even breathing. He opened his eyes hastily, studying the look on Stephen’s face. Stephen looked concerned, even worried, but unsure of himself as he murmured soothing nonsense to Tony.

“Breathe, Tones,” Stephen said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just breathe, we’re alright. I’ll leave you be once I’m sure you’re okay, and—”

Tony wrapped his arms around Stephen and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare. Don’t go… please don’t go Stephen.”

“I can’t risk scaring you again Tony. I’ve already hurt you enough, it’s not fair to keep putting you through this,” Stephen argued, fighting his urge to hug Tony back.

Tony only held on tighter, determined not to let Stephen leave.

Stephen still wanted to disappear, but he quickly understood that Tony wouldn’t let him go that easily. The mechanic was still shivering and trembling, slowly starting to calm down as Stephen hesitantly hugged him back.

++++

They both woke up at the same time, almost four days later. Stephen woke up slowly, feeling like he was underwater or in a fog, while Tony started awake across town.

It was pitch dark in the room, the heavy curtains drawn shut to keep out any intrusive light. It was the middle of the day, judging by the clock Stephen kept on his nightstand, but he couldn’t feel the sun on his face, or see any light from his window. He was bathing in pitch black. At first, he thought he was dead, doomed to an eternity in darkness, when something red bloomed and came to life beside him. Even now, his Cloak was always dramatic, comforting as it covered him like a blanket.

As his eyes adjusted, Stephen registered Wong and Christine on the other side of the room, just studying him.

Christine was the first to meet his stare, rushing to his bedside. “How do you feel?”

Stephen grimaced in pain as he shrugged. “Not great, thanks.” There was something else on his mind, but he was too afraid to ask. He was almost too scared to hear the answer.

Luckily, Wong spoke up before Stephen could ask. “You slept for three and a half days, Strange. How much do you remember?”

“Something attacked the Compound… I think it was me,” he mumbled.

“Not exactly,” Wong began, gentler than Stephen had ever heard him.

“Possessed or not, I still attacked!” Stephen sat up, paying the price as he rose quicker than his body could handle. “It doesn’t matter if I saved everyone, not if I almost killed them first.”

Neither Wong nor Christine spoke, and the cloak simply wrapped tighter around Stephen’s shoulders.

“You did save everyone,” Wong said finally. “And you banished whatever entity possessed you. We still haven’t figured out what it is, but…”

Wong’s voice trailed off as Stephen stopped listening. His head started to hurt as he remembered, in searing detail, more of what happened and what caused him to snap out of the state he was in.

Tony was near silent, his voice failing him after hours of tortured screams. Somewhere, somehow, Stephen knew that he was the one hurting him, the one causing Tony so much pain even though he promised never to hurt the hero. He wanted to stop, to end all of the carnage he’d brought to the Compound, to his friends who were starting to feel like family, to Tony… but he couldn’t. The hand controlling his impulsive strings was strong and steady, and it wouldn’t rest until Stephen finished its bidding.

His movements were mechanical as he strode, like the marionette he’d become, to stand in front of Tony.

And Tony just looked at him with a defeated, almost calm look on his face.

Stephen’s voice sounded distorted when he spoke, preening with a twisted smile as he bent to look upon the man of iron. “Accepted your fate?”

“You won’t be the first person I’ve loved who’s hurt me,” Tony said, between pained breaths. “There’s nothing to say.”

Stephen tried to back up, to keep himself still, but he couldn’t fight the influence of his controller and struck Tony again. “Arrogance is unbecoming.”

Tony inhaled again, deeper and more pained this time but somehow even calmer. “Go ahead and finish the job. I won’t hold it against you, Stephen.”

Stephen was hyperventilating when he heard Wong’s voice again, pressed against the headboard of his bed like he was backed into a corner.

Christine approached him tentatively, resting her hand on one of his shoulders.

Stephen recoiled away from the touch and curled up on himself like a turtle retreating in its shell. He ducked his head under a pillow, shaking in fear and pain from moving too quickly. “Did I… did I kill him? I remember everything until I was about to… please tell me I—”

“You didn’t.” Christine cut him off, hoping to keep her friend from spiraling further. “Wong said you saved everyone, and that includes Tony.”

Stephen sobbed just hearing his partner’s name. Guilt wracked his entire body as he cried harder and harder, his magic running through his veins. Was he not this exhausted, he’d probably set fire to something from his high levels of stress and fear, but all he could do was cry until he fell into painful sleep.

++++

He didn’t finish it.

He didn’t listen.

Tony remembered the horrified look he saw on Stephen’s face, the remorse in his eyes as he sent a vaguely corporeal figure of dark energy through a portal.

Tony remembered the way Stephen apologized again and again as his eyes started closing, overwhelmed by the pain seizing his mind and body. A part of him hoped that Stephen had listened, that maybe the last thing he’d see in this life would be the face he’d come to absolutely adore…

… But he’d woken up sometime later in the MedBay, wanting to see Stephen more than anything. In spite of everything that’d just happened, or maybe because of everything that’d just happened, all Tony really wanted was to go back to sleep, preferably in his partner’s embrace. That really didn’t seem like too much to ask for.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?”

Tony almost didn’t notice Peter pacing around on the ceiling, in fact he didn’t know his pseudo son was even in the room until he suddenly landed a few feet away. “I feel great, Kid. Definitely not like I took a ton of bricks to the face.” He didn’t remember the gory details of the fight, so Tony couldn’t say whether or not he was being literal.

“Welcome back, Boss,” FRIDAY said, a hint of worry in her voice. “And good morning. It’s currently half nine on Tuesday. I’ve been asked to inform you that Col. Rhodes has returned from Washington and has volunteered to lead all reconstruction projects for the Compound. He’s also asked me to keep you updated and will be coming to see you this afternoon.”

Tony sighed. “Thank you. Wait… that means Rhodey came back early?”

“He did,” FRIDAY replied simply. Her voice sounded like what a nod looked like as she continued. “Would you like me to tell him that you asked about him?”

“Sure, but don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to rush to see me,” Tony replied, knowing that Rhodey would probably come anyway. He was maybe the one exception to what Tony had told Stephen earlier, before…

“Col. Rhodes will be here within the hour,” FRIDAY announced.

“Thanks Fri.”

Peter, who had started pacing on the ceiling again, asked what Tony had been wondering since he woke up. “Where’s the Doc?”

“I dunno, Pete. I’ve been wondering that myself,” Tony admitted. “Fri, you wouldn’t happen to know… would you?”

“As far as I can tell, Doctor Strange returned to the Sanctum following the… altercation… on Thursday,” the AI reported.

“What? Altercation? What happened?” Peter landed on the floor again, looking more worried than Tony thought he deserved to.

“There was just a small wizarding mishap, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. He shrugged, trying to reassure Peter as much as he could. “Not even an emergency, Underoos. We would’ve called for you if it was.”

Tony also didn’t want Peter to see what happened. Maybe he was sheltering the kid, but he didn’t want Peter to ever find out about the attack on the Compound. It was bad enough that the team, even in their varied states of consciousness, saw what they did. They saw the fear in Tony’s eyes, saw him slowly surrender to Stephen’s ruthless attacks until he just stopped trying to fight the sorcerer. Tony knew he couldn’t parry these magical attacks, couldn’t break the spelled restraints… but he didn’t want Peter to see how easily he’d given up.

If Peter had more to say, he simply chose not to ask about it. Instead he just shrugged. “Glad you’re okay, Mr. Stark. May heard from Pepper that you got hurt, so I wanted to swing by… no pun intended.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that calling me ‘Tony’ is fine?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes warmly. “I’m fine, Pete. Not up for working in the lab today, I’m afraid, but—”

“That’s okay! My suit isn’t going anywhere, we can upgrade anytime,” Peter replied. “I promised May I’d be home for movie night, but I just wanted to come see you.”

Tony smiled softly. “You’re a good kid, Son. Get home safe, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back in working condition.”

“Thanks IronDad!” Peter was gone in a second, leaving Tony in the quiet with his thoughts.

“Fri?” He asked after a few minutes.

“Still here, Boss.”

“Will you… will you tell Stephen I want to see him?” Tony asked.

Maybe he was the spoiled brat everyone believed, or maybe he was exhausted and touch starved and showing signs of an addictive personality. Tony didn’t know, he didn’t care, and he just wanted his sorcerer back.

“I’ll let him know,” FRIDAY replied, softer than normal.

++++

“Stephen, it’s been days. Days since the attack, days since you holed yourself up in my library like you’re going into hibernation—”

“Good morning to you too, Wong.”

Wong may have laughed at Stephen’s attitude if he didn’t feel so bad for him. Stephen was completely out of it, so much so that he didn’t even realize how late in the day it was. “It’s almost eight, Strange.”

Stephen just sighed. “Did you need something from me?”

“Stark is asking for you again. I think you should see him.”

“You said that yesterday,” Stephen muttered.

“I’m saying it again now. I know you, Stephen, I can read you like any book in here.” Wong began. “You’re trying to outrun your guilt but you know it’s not that easy. Ignoring Tony isn’t going to make things go away, and it’s not going to make either of you feel better. He misses you, and I know you miss him too.”

“I don’t know how I can even look at him after what I did… he trusted me,” Stephen whispered, looking down at his lap. “I broke his trust.”

“Not willingly, and he knows that,” Wong reminded him. “It wasn’t you, Stephen.”

Stephen ignored him, beginning to tremble as he thought back to what Tony had said to him. “He told me he wouldn’t hold it against me… that I wasn’t the first of his loved ones to hurt him. I don’t know what I could do or say to prove to him, let alone to the team, that I’d never hurt them again.”

“Hiding away in here isn’t helping to prove that,” Wong said.

“You just want your chair by the window back,” Stephen accused him.

“Of course I do! But I also care about you and your happiness. If you need anyone to vouch for you, I’ll be here,” Wong replied.

“That sounds like you’ve made up my mind for me.”

“I have. Go now, before it gets too late.”

Stephen opened a portal to the tower, just outside of the lab. “I doubt Tony would be asleep, he’s always awake.”

His suspicions were confirmed as he closed the portal. Tony was in his lab where Stephen thought he’d be, a mug in one hand and a pen in the other.

Stephen’s entire body trembled with nerves as he opened the door, the cloak knocking loudly and dramatically to make his presence known.

“FRIDAY, Quiet Place Protocol please,” Tony said. He looked up and smiled sadly at Stephen as the lab’s usual blaring music shut off. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Stephen suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. He was too scared to get any closer to Tony, afraid to hurt him, but at the same time all he wanted was to hug him.

The cloak made the first move, flying off of his shoulders and resting on Tony’s.

“Aww, hi Levy.” Of course Tony had a nickname for the relic, he had nicknames for everything and everyone.

Stephen found it annoying in the most heartwarming way, and he couldn’t help but smile as Tony sat down at his workbench.

“You can come over, you know?” Tony asked, half teasingly. “I told you I don’t bite, Steph.”

Stephen felt like a marionette again as he walked towards his boyfriend, but his heart was in control this time. He wanted to protect, to cherish, and to spoil the man in front of him with nothing but love and attention. He was just afraid, still unsure of himself as he studied Tony’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey… I know.” Tony opened his palms on his lap, silently asking to hold Stephen’s hands.

Stephen let him, trembling harder as Tony held him gently. “I don’t know what happened, Tony. Something took over me, and I couldn’t stop it. I’ve never been overpowered like that before, and I didn’t know what to do. But please listen when I say that I promise it’ll never happen again, I mean that’s a given if you leave me, but—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Tony said firmly. “I know you weren’t voluntarily doing all of those things.”

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I still don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Tony…” Stephen took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Tony I could’ve killed you. The entire time I was trying to break the curse, to get that thing out of my system, I almost killed you. And you almost let me do it.”

“I did.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. Tony had that calm, accepting look on his face mixed with a kind, trusting expression. It was the same look he’d given Stephen in the ruins of the Compound, and it hurt. It didn’t feel like an apology would be enough to make things right, but what else was there to do now? “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony slid his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into the hug they’d both been needing. “I’m fine baby, it’s okay. It’s over.”

Stephen knew it wasn’t just over, and he knew Tony knew it too. But in the moment he was too fatigued to fight about it and let Tony hold him closer. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Trying to,” Tony replied. “Not to be cheesy or whatnot, but I do sleep better with you next to me.”

“May I take you to bed?” Stephen asked, sounding even shyer than when he normally asked that. “Please? I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t object to a nap.”

Tony nodded, shifting to press a chaste kiss to Stephen’s lips. “That sounds nice. FRIDAY, save and shut everything off please.”

“Engaging ‘You Shall Not Pass’ protocol, Boss,” FRIDAY reported dutifully.

Tony scoffed. “Remind me to never let you and Peter give Fri name suggestions again.”

“You could just change it if it bothers you that much.” Stephen chose to remind Tony of that instead, even though they both knew Tony was secretly fond of the movie references hidden in his protocols. “Besides, that serves you right for calling me Gandalf all the time.”

“If the shoe fits, babe,” Tony said. He stood up, keeping an arm wrapped around Stephen’s waist as they left the lab and headed for the elevators.

Despite feeling safe and loved in Tony’s arms, more than he could have ever hoped to be and probably more than he deserved, Stephen was still anxious. He felt out of place in the Tower, never mind the fact that he usually spent half of his time there, and he felt even more out of place amongst the team.

“How are the others?” He asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’re getting better.” Tony saw no point in sugarcoating the truth. Stephen would see right through it, and that wouldn’t help him process everything. “Carol and Thor are both bored of training with each other, but no one else wants to spar with either of them yet. Or with Natasha, for that matter.”

“Does anyone ever want to spar with them on a good day?” Stephen asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“You’re all a bunch of sore losers who can’t rise to a friendly challenge” Natasha quipped, suddenly materializing in front of the couple. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is he here?”

“Natasha, I—”

Natasha pointedly ignored Stephen. She never disliked the sorcerer, she was actually indifferent and had no issues telling Tony that, but Tony’s trustful, rather soft nature was a concern of hers. It worked in her favor, sure, but she was really trying to be a better friend to Tony and look out for him more. It was this concern that motivated her to look at Stephen with disgust. Natasha wasn’t scared of him, she took heavy damage in the attacks but it was more minimal compared to some of the things she’d put his friends and family through.

Tony was acting as if none of that happened, and that couldn’t stand.

Natasha frowned and glared at Stephen as she addressed Tony. “Tony what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t play dumb and tell me you’re not following. What are you still doing with him? You barely sleep more than an hour without waking everyone up screaming from phantom pain and nightmares! Do you think we can’t hear you yelling and begging for Stephen to stop torturing you and just kill you? Because we all do!” Natasha took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And after all that, you’re holding him like nothing is wrong? I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving sometimes.”

She stormed off before Stephen could defend himself or before Tony could respond. Her words echoed in Stephen’s head as Tony continued to lead him down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the penthouse.

Stephen sat dejectedly on the bed as Tony shuffled around the room, grabbing a few blankets from the closet. He didn’t say anything as Tony made a little nest of pillows and blankets, the cloak joining the haphazard pile the minute Tony curled up under a throw. Eventually Stephen allowed himself to lay down, offering no protests as Tony hugged him again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, mumbling into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“I know,” Tony said simply. “Relax sweetheart, it’s okay.”

He was still tense, curling up smaller in Tony’s arms. “Are you okay?” The sorcerer asked.

“I’m fine,” Tony reassured him. That was half true. He was fine, to a point, but there were things bothering him that he had no idea how to tell Stephen about.

Eventually they would have to face the music and talk about everything, and they both knew it. For now, Tony was somewhat okay with ignoring it, clinging to the hope that having his Stephen back would keep the memories at bay.

Tags: @stark-strange-love2 @salty-ironstrange-shipper @funkylittlebidiot @richieleeparker @chocopiggy @hatakehikari @taruyison 

[gellavonhamster]

in the bleak midwinter*: an asoue/atwq peaky blinders au concept

...also known as the idea that’s been living in my brain for what must be a couple of years now; I have reconciled myself with the fact that I will never write this fic because I simply do not have enough patience to think it out and write it down in the way that would give it justice, so here’s a plot bunny or something.

This is basically the Sugar Bowl Generation of VFD (still young, before kids and all) meets All The Wrong Questions (some of the events + some of the kid characters of ATWQ as adults) meets season one of Peaky Blinders, but I guess it could be read and understood without the knowledge of the latter simply as an organized crime AU.

It’s the beginning of the interwar period, and VFD is a gang. Which, yes, would require a certain amount of OOC of the characters, though I imagine their intimidation tactics would still avoid too much bloodshed. They deal with bookmaking, contraband, and sometimes art forgery because even this version of VFD has to have something sophisticated about it. There’s a number of places, such as bars and clubs, that pay them for protection, and there’s also a number of places they own, such as the Hotel Denouement with the Denouement brothers in charge and the nightclub ran by Ramona Browning**, alias the Duchess (her father was some kind of aristocracy, see, too aristocratic to ever truly acknowledge her). They use their influence to become the informal rulers of their part of the City. They claim to strive for power to make the City a better place, and these are not just words - they do donate money to schools and libraries, for example - but it’s not like they don’t enjoy being in power, and their rule is still based on crime, those who threaten it being eliminated swiftly. 

The Snickets are the Shelby family of this AU, of course. Lemony is Tommy - the mastermind, already a legend of sorts despite being the youngest, plagued by the horrors of war - but still hoping for the best, strange as it seems, because he’s still Lemony. Jacques is Arthur, the fighter suffering from PTSD. Kit is Ada, but she’s also Aunt Polly - she’s the one who ran the business while the boys were in the army. 

Now, season one introduced Grace Burgess as an undercover police informant spying on the Peaky Blinders.

Enter Ellington Feint.

Ellington’s father, the only family she has left, has been kidnapped by a gang called the Inhumane Society, and she’d do anything and everything to save him. So she agrees to infiltrate VFD, their rival gang, to find out the whereabouts of a shipment of weapons that was meant for the Society but was accidentally stolen by VFD. Apart from machine guns and shells, the shipment includes some “statue of a sea beast”, and no one cares to provide more explanations to Ellington about it, but apparently it is the most important part of that cargo. So Ellington takes on the position of a barmaid in The Black Cat Bar, one of the places that pay VFD for protection and the one frequented by its key members, and starts listening and watching.

Ellington needs to get close to the Snickets, because if anyone knows where the weapons are, it’s them. Steward Mitchum, the corrupt cop on the Society’s payroll whom she is to meet from time to time at the Natural History Museum (which she used to attend with her father) to pass on the information, suggests she should seduce one of the Snicket brothers. The problem is, Ellington has a chance to learn very soon that Jacques doesn’t know much about the stolen cargo, and Lemony is too taken with his girlfriend, the music hall singer Beatrice Baudelaire, to even look at any other woman. There’s no getting between them, even though it seems Beatrice also has something going on with VFD’s bookkeeper Bertrand Markson, and Lemony seems aware of it. 

So Ellington decides to approach Kit instead. Kit, who seems so lonely - Ellington doesn’t know the details, but there was some serious falling-out between her and her ex-boyfriend, who has since left the City (and won’t appear in this story. Olaf is the problem for the hypothetical season two of this imaginary show). Ellington doesn’t plan on anything other than a very close friendship - yet, the closer they become, the more she understands that she is attracted to Kit.

(There certainly is a variant of the “I warn you, I’ll break your heart” - “Already broken” scene in which Ellington sings to Kit)

Anyway. Things progress, and they fall in love. Well, Kit seems to have fallen in love, and Ellington keeps trying to persuade herself that she hasn’t, because Kit has to remain nothing but a task for her.

The location of the stolen weapons, however, still remains a mystery, even though Ellington once hears Kit and Lemony discuss it. Whatever the statue is, Lemony seems to believe it has great powers, and Kit seems to believe it’s nothing but folklore. Lemony tells her of the stories of a mysterious sea animal (or spirit, or whatever it may be) he heard from other soldiers during the war, about what Widdershins heard during his time in the navy. Kit tells him that everyone is a believer in a foxhole, and that she loves W like her own kin but he’s a bragging idiot. There was nothing on the sea other than enemy ships.

Elllington’s mission is complicated by Lemony clearly not trusting her. He tells her it’s because his sister has been hurt before, but she suspects it’s more than that. He even admits that he had his people make enquiries in Paltryville, the town she claims to have come from, and found out that no Ellington Feint ever lived there. When he suggests her secrecy is due to a child born out of marriage, she is eager to confirm that. (Cue him asking her if she’s read Les Misérables - yeah, even this version of VFD would be literature nerds, how can it be otherwise - because this whole situation reminds him of Fantine, and her lying that she hasn’t and thinking that she’s more of a Javert at the barricade, really).

Then there’s a masquerade party at the Duchess’s club, and Kit takes Ellington there as her date. (Which is okay, because if there’s any place in the City where a woman dancing with another woman or a man dancing with another man would not be looked at askance, it’s the Duchess’s club. If I was actually writing a fic, there would definitely be a scene in which Ellington observes Beatrice asking Bertrand to dance with her and Bertrand trying to decline by telling her that, since he didn’t have time to procure a mask, he shouldn’t be on the dancefloor at all, and then Lemony approaches him with a spare mask in hand and encourages him to dance with Beatrice and puts the mask on Bertrand himself and it somehow looks so intimate as if he’s undressing him and Ellington’s like “Oh, so it’s like that with them. This is probably of no use to me but still, good to know”). 

When Kit disappears at some point, Ellington follows her quietly and eavesdrops on her conversation with one of the Denouements. He tells her that his brother is all right and sends his regards. Later at the party, however, Ellington sees two Denouements. Why would one of them send the other’s regards to Kit if they’re all in the same room? A couple of drinks with the already tipsy Olivia (officially a fortune-teller, but who knows what purposes VFD really uses her salon for?), and Ellington learns that there used to be three Denouements, actually. But the third brother, Dewey, had a conflict with one of rival gangs which nearly resulted in a war, had not Lemony agreed to dispose of Dewey. To stop that gang from going against VFD, he killed Dewey with his own hands.

Except he didn’t, Ellington thinks. Lemony must have staged Dewey’s execution, and now he’s out there very much alive. Perhaps this knowledge will come in handy.

Meanwhile, the Inhumane Society, who have other beef with VFD apart from the stolen weapons, are getting impatient. There’s a gun-fight which results in Ike Anwhistle dying and his grieving widow, Josephine, telling Lemony it is all his fault and leaving the city. (I know I said this is based on s1 only, but they’re the John and Esme Shelby of this story). And Bertrand is severely wounded. VFD needs another bookkeeper while he’s recovering, and Kit, who knows from The Black Cat’s owner Dashiell Qwerty that Ellington has also been keeping the books of the bar lately and doing it well, offers this position to her. This gives Ellington an opportunity to learn more about the asserts and resources of VFD - and a chance to discover some interesting notes scribbled next to the name of Dewey Denouement. Dewey Denouement, who is only officially dead, but still has a grave at the cemetery.

Ellington tells Stew she has an idea where the weapons and/or the statue might be hidden.

When she meets some of the members of the Inhumane Society to take them to the tomb, she is surprised to see Hangfire himself among them. She’s only seen him in passing before, this mysterious man with his face covered in bandages. They say he’s been horribly disfigured during the war. They also say he came back mad. When they’ve done some digging and unearthed, instead of a coffin, several crates of guns - and opened one of them to find a small statue of what seems like a very scary seahorse - Mitchum and Flammarion are suddenly shot down, and Lemony Snicket steps from behind a gravestone. 

He’s been following them.

Of course he didn’t believe that all Miss Feint is hiding is an illegitimate child, Lemony tells them as he’s holding Hangfire at gunpoint. He’s been doing research. In fact, the man whose grave they’ve unearthed is presently in a unique position allowing him to make research away from the City. He’s found out that Ellington Feint is the daughter of a renowned naturalist Armstrong Feint, who’s recently gone missing. And then they managed to discover something more. 

This is when Hangfire grabs a gun and points it at Lemony, and Lemony aims at Ellington instead, which for some reason stops Hangfire from shooting. 

This is also when it turns out that Lemony has also been followed, and Kit Snicket steps from behind another gravestone, pointing a gun at her brother. He keeps aiming at Ellington, wearily telling Kit she isn’t really going to shoot him. 

Kit tells him that unless he drops the gun, he’ll find out.

(When Ellington tries to speak to Kit, she just tells her to shut up. And it hurts, because Kit has stopped being just a mission a long time ago. And now she knows that Ellington’s been lying to her from the start. And she may not want Ellington to die, but she would also hardly ever forgive her. And that would be fair).

And then Hangfire tries to shoot Kit, and Ellington screams, and Kit manages to spring back, and Lemony fires at the man who tried to kill his sister, and suddenly Hangfire is bleeding out on the ground and calling out to Ellington in her father’s voice. 

That is what they’ve also found out about Hangfire, Lemony tells her as she’s kneeling beside the body, unable to bring herself to uncover his face. He sounds genuinely surprised; he thought she knew.

Kit makes him let Ellington go and tells her she doesn’t want to see her ever again. And Ellington leaves. She takes a train to some seaside town she’s never heard of before and leaves. Her job is ended. Her father is dead. Her love affair that never should have happened is in the past. She still doesn’t know why her father lied to her when he could have just asked and she would’ve done anything, why he kept up this double life, what was the significance of the statue and what it might become in the hands of someone like Lemony Snicket. She is too tired and sick of it all to try to find out.

She manages to build a life in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. She works in a coffee shop and sings there in the evenings. She never sings the song she sang to Kit again. She marries a man she doesn’t have any truly strong feelings for.

Then, a year or so later, there’s a phone call, and the voice of the woman she loved and betrayed tells her she still can’t stop thinking of her.

*This phrase used by the Peaky Blinders upon the death of one of them is replaced by “The world is quiet here”. Obviously.

**My Last Duchess, referenced in ASOUE in connection with R, is written by Robert Browning.

[ptera-novaeangliae]

Artemy Burakh’s Tormentous Vacation WIP

Hey all, it’s been quiet around here, and I haven’t posted an update in a long time. I’m sorry about that! JTB is still in progress, and I have done more since I last spoke of it, but the going is slow. In the meantime, I thought I would try and offer a glimpse into the beach vacation fic that is supposed to follow JTB up a year or so after the events of chapter 22. Whether or not this ultimately gets completed is still up in the air, but I had started on it a while back, so I thought I’d share this weird intro to apologise for the JTB delay! Still very much a WIP so apologies for the myriad of mistakes.

~

It is something so easily ignored. The rhythmic rolling of a train’s pistons, the steady vibrations rattling the carriages, like a heartbeat. So constant that it only becomes noticeable in its absence. Though the pulse of a train has never delivered Artemy to good fortune before.  

There shouldn’t be a pulse, not in a coffin.

The first time that Artemy had set foot on a train, his thoughts had jumped to how the carriage stifled the building autumnal gusts, a reprise from the open station, and how pleasant that had been. It had never once occurred to him that the heady scent of twyre would be absent in the cities, of the years he would go without the familiar comforts of home, of the ache in his chest that only became more acute the further the distance grew.

The ache is returning all over again. Though it shouldn’t be, for those he cares about remain by his side in the carriage as he dozes, lost to memories. 

It had been an uncomfortable experience to stand on the platform with his family, suitcases in hand while he watched the excitement so evident in their eyes, the smiles offered so freely and thoughtlessly.  Artemy had never seen them so excited- Sticky rushing forwards as soon as the carriage doors were opened, Murky tugging at his hand, Daniil’s proud glance directed towards him. And all that Artemy had felt was the cold prickle of dread creeping down his spine. The only time he’d boarded this train before, his back had been turned on his father- an entirely different man, all those years ago. It was the last time he had seen Isidor.

A coffin is the best means of transportation in the world. It can get you to unimaginable places.

And then he’s back on the train, returning home from medical school, worrying the thin parchment of his father’s letter between his fingertips. No longer does he need to read it, for it has been his only solace for the past few days, the words as clear in his mind as the nursery rhymes of his childhood. Perhaps even more so, for when he tries to cast his thoughts back to the language of the Khatange, back to speech that had once been as familiar as breathing, he falters. It’s the first time that sense of wrongness arises, planting a seed of uncertainty deep within his heart, barely noticeable. Somewhere nearby, the clatter of dice upon wood reverberates through the carriage.

While the words before him are certainly foreboding, it’s impossible to ignore how strong his longing is for those that he’d left behind. Artemy misses Gravel’s barely restrained smiles when he’d begun a tirade of humorous nonsense, how reserved she became when she handed over gifts, or those evenings where she came to him to give voice to her greatest fears. He misses Grief crashing through his window at an ungodly hour, spinning tall tales with Artemy through the darkness of the night, falling asleep against each other come the dawn. And Stakh. Perhaps out of everyone, he misses Stakh the most. For his oldest friend understands the worst parts of Artemy better than anyone else, and though it brought them to clash more often than the others, he longs to be known that way again.

The cold unfamiliarity of the city has spread through his veins in his years away, casting an all-consuming numbness across his body. And here are the words from his father, pleading for Artemy to return, the promise of proud smiles and an opportunity to show the menkhu everything that he had become over the years. The chance to reconnect to the parts of himself that had been inaccessible for too long. And best of all, the certainty of seeing his father again. He’s missed his family terribly.  

Do you want to play? Dice?

The train hisses to a sudden stop. All at once, the situation feels startlingly familiar. Artemy tries to stand through the sinking in the pit of his stomach, though his aching knee protests. His knee hadn’t been like that before. 

He clenches his teeth against the pained groan welling in his chest, but whatever sound that slips out is lost to the continued clatter of dice. It’s louder now, more dice are being played, and the echo makes it impossible to pinpoint the location. But somehow, Artemy knows exactly where it’s coming from, exactly who is casting them. Despite everything, he simply cannot seem to move towards the figure he knows will be awaiting him. Instead, he must think to the future, to the next step- his priority is to depart. Artemy’s father will be outside.

Good luck with your father. I'm sure he can't wait.

The first bang resounds upon the metal frame of the carriage. And then another. Fists, knocking insistently on the shell they are trapped within. The dice keep rolling, oblivious to the assault. Artemy knows he has to open the door, he knows what is waiting for him at the other side- the men who will put him through indescribable pain. The men who will no longer be living when the morning arrives.

My name was Jacob Sterkh. Worked in shipping. Two marriages, both happy. Brought up a daughter.

Beside him, Artemy knows that the figure will be there. He can feel his presence. Hunched over, rolling the dice- now a violent cascade- the incessant clatter only broken by…

I was called Kirik. It was my idea to catch the murderer at the Station.

Banging, at the doors. Much louder now, for it is not simple fists being thrown against them anymore, but rather the weight of entire bodies. The only sounds breaking through the rattle of dice. Why are they trying to break in? Don’t they know what’s inside of a coffin? Only death.

They called me Bertie. Short for "Bertrand." And that's one of the kinder nicknames... "Bertie" was fine. A name's just a name.

He must go to them first. That’s how it works. Artemy’s hand finds the handle.

The dice roll.

“Artemy?”

The familiar texture of leather around his fingers, applying a firm pressure, eyes watching him, the heartbeat of the train thrumming once again. Artemy squeezes back.

“Are you alright?” Daniil asks from where he sits by Artemy’s side.

Artemy nods, unable to speak past the tightness clutching at his throat, weighing on his chest. He can’t bring himself to sit upright just yet, having melded into his seat in his sleep, and guilt is already settling heavy on his stomach. From the caution in Sticky’s gaze, his nightmare had become all too evident. Artemy curses the lack of privacy in the carriages once again, exposing his children to the trauma that had forced itself to the surface of his unconscious thoughts. Quietly, Daniil and Sticky share a glance and return to their activity, Daniil’s hand still caught in Artemy’s forceful grip.

Dice, Artemy could have laughed through the lump in his throat. They’re playing dice.  

[petracore101]

Hello lovely friends and followers...

I’ll just out with it- I am not going to be posting RWBY content anymore. I don’t think I’ll keep watching at all, honestly. I’ll try to discuss why below, but regardless, I will still be around, just not for RWBY. And if you’re feeling rough about all this too, and want a sympathetic ear to talk through things with, please reach out. My inbox is open. <3

tldr; It feels like the heart of the show, the depth and nuance I have always loved about it, is just... gone.

It’s not a new feeling; those of you who have been following me awhile know I felt largely the same after V7. The journey was skipped to get to the destination. At the time, I had hoped it was just a product of circumstance- of taking on new writers, switching up the way they did things, and trying to juggle so many new characters... but this volume has solidified for me that it’s not a temporary shift. This is the new normal.

And that does hurt, because RWBY has been a big part of my life for... well, about 8 years now. I was drawn in the moment the red trailer dropped, and only grew more invested from there. Since the very beginning, I’ve watched the show and it’s characters grow with its creators, and been able to grow alongside them. Even when I had to take a break from the FNDM circa V5 (because the discourse around the Faunus arc got... unpleasant), I kept watching and engaging with those I could trust, because RWBY remained important to me. I’ve loved v1-6 dearly, despite their flaws, because the emotional core of the show has always shone through. And the belief in that core is what’s kept me here so long. But now the story just feels... gutted. And as much as it breaks my heart, I don’t think it can come back from that.

For two volumes now, I’ve felt as though the story has been rushing through the plot points without consideration for characters or their growth, while leaning heavily on shock value to make up for the lack of emotional depth. It’s become almost entirely a plot-centered narrative, leaving its intense character moments detached from or outright opposed to those character’s arcs. And because of this, it has relied on stunning the audience with increasingly brutal and sudden reveals, while skimming over or outright ignoring opportunities for nuance and emotional complexity. It feels desperate, using the characters’ pain for cheap emotional jabs rather than actually engaging with that pain or it’s consequences. And that results in it seeming to play the core character tropes straight rather than taking the time to subvert them in any meaningful way, because doing so would require engaging with their emotions beyond a surface level. For me, that engagement, that depth, that subversion, has always been a crucial part of the show, and the foundation of its story. It’s the hook that grabbed me in the first place, way back when I first heard Monty discussing the idea behind the new project he and his friends were undertaking. But now, all the narratives I have been invested in just ring hollow, as if they’re dolls imitating past movements, without any of the soul that first gave them meaning. The story isn’t about the journey, it’s just a collection of the major events that define it, with nothing deep connecting them. Gone too is the persistent hopepunk feel of the first 6 volumes- the quiet moments of hope and self reflection replaced instead with a breakneck sprint through an increasingly tone deaf plot. Everything that kept me engaged, kept me invested is just... not there anymore. It hasn’t been for two volumes. And this finale was the final nail in the coffin.

I do want to make it clear that I don’t say any of this to turn anyone off the show- I’m glad for those who still enjoy it, and I truly hope you continue to do so. Maybe you disagree with me completely, or perhaps this new normal is exactly what you’re looking for. I’m certainly not going to judge anyone for that. And even if it’s not what you want it to be, you may just want to keep enjoying it casually, or are simply not ready to let go of something that means so much to you. I don’t want to imply I have any kind of problem with that either. Because truly, I hope everyone still watching enjoys whatever they have in store. I just know that I... can’t.

And as much as it hurts to say goodbye, I also know that clinging to what feels like a shell of the show I’ve fell in love with 8 years ago would only ruin my enjoyment of the parts I do love. For me, RWBY ended at V6. We said goodbye to those we lost, resolved to carry on with their memory bolstering our spirits. Then, with that beautiful send off, started a new chapter... and that’s where I want to leave it.

So goodbye, RWBY.

I’ll remember you fondly.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Cruelty of man

The command bunker was a flurry of activity as aides and military personnel shuffled between consoles. At the center of the room was a large tactical display table surrounded by commanders discussing the recent deployments of new troops and enemy positions when the doors to the command center burst open. At the noise the guards to either side quickly drew their weapons and trained it on the door until they saw who had entered and dropped to one knee. 

“YURI!!!!”

Royal prince Marsov stormed into the room and made straight for the tactical display. His stride carried him so quickly that he knocked aside aides who had been kneeling before him out of the way as if a child kicking a can down the road. 

“YURI!” The prince continued shouting, “WHERE ARE YOU!?”

The commanders around the tactical display parted aside and revealed the human who had taken command of the war front from the prince. He stood atop a wooden stack of pallets so he could see the display and under any normal circumstance would be comical any other time were it not for how feared the human was by the rest of the command staff. 

The aliens surrounding him stood nearly twice his height making most interactions with the species initially challenging as everything they had was intended for far larger use. 

Yuri continued observing the tactical map, making a few notes and passing them to nearby aides, completely ignoring Marsov’s outbursts.  Maros slammed his fist into the table  making the holographic image shake violently for a few moments before readjusting.  “What is the meaning of this?!” 

“I am not psychic, prince.” Yuri said as he passed another note to an aide and motioned him away with a flick of his hand. “You must elaborate what exactly is troubling you.” 

Yuri’s calmness only seemed to enrage Marsov even more. 

“When you took control of this war away from me you said you would run it better.”  “Yes, I remember.” 

“That was two months ago! What have you done since then!?” 

Yuri set down his note pad and looked up at the prince. Though humans were far shorter than the prince’s species Yuri’s presence was so intense that it made seem as if he was the one towering over them. 

“I have been continuing the war in a manner that will result in our victory.” 

Marov’s laugh at the answer was as loud as it was fulled with a mocking tone. “You have launched only one offensive a week while ordering our special forces to gather enemy equipment, wasting their potential greatly!” 

“These are parts of a much larger plan.” Yuri said as he crossed his fingers and rested his chin on them. 

“A plan that is failing!” Marsov waived his hand and the tactical display altered itself. The image was an aerial view of the front lines with both sides trenches facing each other. 

“Each attack you launched was preluded to by a massed artillery bombardment of smoke. Smoke that i would point out completely ineffective. 

Waving another hand a smaller visualization of the enemy soldier. “Their helmets allow them to see through the smoke with high density filters built into their helmets. The filters remove the smoke particles so they don’t even hinder the enemy soldiers!”

“Yes, I know this because I ordered our special forces to capture in tact enemy gear from the battlefield.” 

Marsov choked on his next words but quickly recovered. 

“You promised a great victory but since you have taken command we have seen nothing.” Marsov turned the surrounding commanders. “Perhaps my father underestimated your abilities.” 

The commanders looked back to Yuri who still clasped his fingers, his expression uncaring as if the insult just made against him meant nothing. 

“Great victories are not won in a single day, but planned out down to the very second.” Yuri stood and hopped down from the pallets and began walking away. 

“Tomorrow I will show you what a great victory truly means.” 

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

The following day the commanders all gathered in the command bunker for the upcoming battle. 

Yuri stood on the wooden pallets while the prince sat on his command throne overlooking the entire room. 

The entire length of the opposite wall showed live feeds from the battlefront as the team leaders moved through the trenches checking on their soldiers. 

Tapping the tactical display table Yuri drew the attention of the room. 

“Today, we will launch a full scale along the entire front.” Pointing to the display it showed several dozen friendly arrows moving across no-man’s land into the enemy trenches. 

“From there we will continue pressing the advantage until we have overrun their forward command bunkers and captured the supply depots at the far rear of their lines.”

The display showed several fortified locations several dozen miles behind the current enemy lines.

“If you believe we can penetrate so far with this attack why stop there?” Marsov scoffed. Yuri nodded as if he had just been asked a question from his favorite student. “As tempting as it would be to continue the offensive we must be mindful of our manpower and supplies. I have calculated that once we have reached the supply depots we will be at the near limit of a front we can successfully maintain. Any farther and we risk over stretching ourselves and risking counter attacks that could encircle entire army group and wipe them out.” 

“All well and good and all, but this attack depends entirely on if you can break the enemy front line to begin with.” 

“Rest assured, that will be the easiest part of the plan.” 

With that Yuri motioned to an aide and the screen turned to the face of a front line commander. “Are your troops prepared captain?” Yuri asked. 

“They are prepared; though i am not sure why we need this additional equipment.” Marsov’s eyes picked up at this but Yuri continued before he could press his questions. “You’re understanding is not required captain, only your loyalty and promise of victory.” 

The captain banged his fist and nodded his head. “Victory eternal.” he said before the line went dead. 

“Begin the bombardment and start the clock.” 

“Beginning bombardment now.” 

The roar of a thousand heavy artillery pieces could be faintly heard throughout the command bunker despite being so deep underground.   

“What is this clock you mentioned?” 

“It is the amount of time the soldiers must wait after the bombardment before commencing the attack.”

“Did your plan not call for speed to overrun the enemy?”

“It did.”

“Then why wait after the bombardment to attack? Why not launch at once.”

“Patience; you shall see.” 

An hour passed before the counter reached zero and Yuri ordered the attack to commence. 

The camera feeds of the soldiers were all over the screen. Pushing through the black smoke the feeds were blurry.  

Marsov watched intently. If the mission was a failure then Marsov could leverage the other commanders to shun the human and regain control of the army; but if it was successful he would still gain the credit but be stuck with the human even longer. 

Suddenly the camera toppled over and showed only ground. The soldier the feed belonged to scrambled back to their feet and raised their weapon at what they had fallen over as his comrades came by.  

Marsov saw the image and instantly stood up as the rest of the command staff let out gasps, some even vomiting on to the floor. 

Laying on the ground was an enemy soldier in full battle gear. To the casual eye the enemy soldier looked completely normal, as if they were fresh off the parade ground. That was until Marsov saw the face of the enemy. 

Beneath their clear helmet the eyes of his enemy were bleeding purple blood from the corners of their sockets, eyes bulging out as if they had been crammed into a container too small, veins bursting from beneath the skin as if they had been pulled out...

Marsov had commanded many battles and had fought in many wars from the front with those he had commanded, but he had never seen anything like this before. 

“What happened to them?” The question was from a commander present as the camera feed panned over countless bodies of enemy soldiers laying dead across the battlefield all sharing the horrific signs. 

“That,” Yuri spoke breaking the silence, “is chemical HZ-94; also known as the Coffin Maker.” 

“How do you know what it is? Have you seen it before?” 

Yuri shook his head. “I know what it is because I had it loaded into the smoke shells we fired before the attack.” 

The room went silent.

“You what?”

“I had the HZ-94 loaded into the smoke shells. As the smoke shells burst over the enemy covering them with smoke it was also laced with the chemical compound.” 

He motioned and an aide stepped forward carrying the helmet of their enemy and gave it to Yuri. He cradled it in his for a few moments before smirking. 

“You see the smoke attack for the last few weeks was intentional. I knew it would have no effect on the enemy as I had studied their captured war gear. You are correct prince that they are built in with filtration systems and density scanners, but did you know that the smoke clogs up their filtration systems?” 

He hoisted the helmet and pointed to a small oval opening at the base of the helmet. “Sure it can filter out some of the smoke, but consistent smoke eventually will form a barrier and block all inhalation forcing the user to swap filters.”

Yuri pried off the oval cap and showed it to everyone. 

“The previous smoke attacks were meant to make the enemy become accustomed to the tactic and treat the smoke as a non threat. What threat would there be when their density displays could see through the smoke and have visuals on our troops?” 

“While this was going on I had my off world associates manufacture the chemical and send it along with the safety gear for our own soldiers which would take roughly two months to arrive.” 

Marsov was trying to piece together what had happened even as the first ranks of his soldiers made it through the smoke and came upon an entire field of dead enemy soldiers. All sharing the same horrific symptoms as those that had been seen in the smoke. 

“The enemy would therefore not realize that there would be a secondary chemical mixed in with the smoke leaving them care free to remove their filters and swap them out as if it was a similar attack as the weeks before.” 

Yuri’s eyes lit up with a devilish glow as he turned towards Marsov and chucked the helmet at him. “My plan was to make the enemy complacent and predictable and therefore easy to manipulate and predict. The moment they swapped out their filters they were exposed to the Coffin Maker and their fate was sealed.” 

He motioned to the giant screen which had panned out to the entire length of the front. “We waited to press the attack not only for the gas to become effective but to also let the wind currents carry it back into their own lines.

“How could you have known the direction of the wind?” Marsov was horrified and amazed at the same time. In a single stroke the human had broken the entire enemy front line opening a massive gap their forces were now exploiting to their fullest. 

“In the time it took for the requested materials to arrive I studied not just our enemy but the planet itself. I found the patterns of wind currents and established today as the offensive as the wind was going in the opposite direction.” 

Marsov looked at the unease of his soldiers and the feeds as more and more dead bodies were found. Some with their hands clutching their throats or having ripped off their helmets as if desperate for breathable air. 

He turned his gaze to Yuri. “Have you no honor?” 

Yuri chuckled at the remark. 

“Honor is meaningless if it is unaccompanied by a victory.”

[misscorn]

Day 2

Flowers/Date

Is this sagaritsu week? No its @sihjrweek but here we are 😝 enjoy

***

Ritsu was panicking.

That wasn't new or really any cause for concern considering he panicked often and over a variety of things, but for Onodera Ritsu the world might as well have been ending.

What was causing the 15 year old so much distress?

It was Valentine's day.

And he had FORGOT ABOUT IT.

Usually, Ritsu's head was filled with all sort of embarrassing and lovey dovey fantasies between him and his Senpai. However, he had been so stressed about studying for an upcoming math test this week (Saga Senpai being kind enough to help tutor him after school) that the holiday had completely slipped his mind!

It was only when An-chan followed him into the library after school with a box of chocolates in hand that he remembered the date.

An would've preferred to do this elsewhere, but Richan was a difficult boy to get a hold of! He was always rushing off to the library as soon as class let out.

Ritsu hadn't even noticed An had followed him into the library at first, solely focused on his Senpai who was sitting in his usual spot. Ritsu smiled and waved, about to approach, but was stopped by his name being softly called.

"Richan?" An said quietly, not wanting to disturb the library's atmosphere. She held the box of chocolates nervously. An had already confessed her feelings for her friend in the past and faced rejection, but still she wanted to give Ritsu something this Valentine's day even if it ended in rejection again. She just wanted to make the boy she loved happy. If anyone deserved chocolate on Valentine's day, it was Ritsu, and An wanted to be positive that he would get some! She couldn't be sure that the person he liked would deliver, after all. She didn't want Ritsu to end up disappointed.

Ritsu faced her and smiled, pleasantly surprised. "Hey, An. What's up?" He hadn't quite noticed the chocolates yet, half of his mind still being on Saga Senpai.

An gathered her courage and held out the box of chocolates. "H-Happy Valentine's day, Richan." Her face turned pink as she presented her gift.

...

EH?!

TODAY WAS VALENTINE'S DAY?!

Ritsu began to have his daily internal meltdown, but An took his silence as a bad sign.

"I-I know you already told me you like someone else, b-but please accept them. Y-you don't have to return the gesture on White Day or anything like that, please just enjoy them and I'll be happy!" An said, pushing the box into Ritsu's arms. "Happy Valentine's day, Richan." She said again, quickly leaving before Ritsu could try to refuse and give them back.

Ritsu wasn't entirely concerned with the box of chocolates he was currently holding, though. He was too busy freaking out over the fact that it was Valentine's day and he hadn't gotten anything for Saga Senpai! And on top of that, Saga Senpai had just essentially watched someone else confess to Ritsu!

That was bad, right? They were dating, after all...right? Ritsu thought they might be exclusive, but he really couldn't be sure and he wasn't brave enough to ask. Plus, he felt like it was such a stupid question and he already made himself constantly look like an idiot. Maybe Senpai wouldn't care about Valentine's day or the confession. Maybe he hadn't even paid attention! However, Ritsu quickly discovered that Saga was in fact staring at him when he turned back around.

Ritsu flushed and shuffled over to their table, putting the box of chocolates in his bag as he did so. He sat down, normally having some magazine release or novel to excitedly talk about, but the heart in his throat silenced him.

"Who was she?" Saga asked, sounding and looking indifferent, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Saga hadn't been able to really make out their conversation considering their hushed voices, but he had seen enough to know that he did NOT like her.

"Y-You mean Anchan? S-She's just a friend of mine." Ritsu laughed nervously, hoping Saga didn't ask for more details. Surely if they talked about this for too long he would accidentally blurt out that he and Anchan were 'engaged'. He was already in one mess, he didn't need another!

"A friend..." Saga echoed, glancing toward Ritsu's bag. "Why did you accept her chocolates?"

"Well, I didn't wanna hurt her feelings...she also didn't really give me much of a choice." Ritsu laughed once more, doing his best to pretend like he felt no tension.

"Tch." Saga scoffed, but didn't say anything else, going back to his book. Saga didn't buy that. After all, the upperclassman had had a few girls try to give him chocolate today and it had been easy enough for him to dismiss them considering he had no interest. If Ritsu truly only viewed her as a friend then why couldn't he do the same? Maybe he was being unreasonable. But, he was jealous, so he didn't care.

Ritsu frowned when Saga basically started to ignore him. Was Saga Senpai...mad at him? "Really, Anchan is just a friend." Ritsu insisted, trying to get his Senpai to look at him again.

"It's none of my business." Saga said, not looking up from his book.

"I-I already told her before that I...that I have s-someone else that I l-l-like." Ritsu could feel his cheeks burning. "I like you, Senpai. Not her." Although this was far from Ritsu's first time confessing, he still felt as if his heart was going to explode.

Saga was quiet for a moment before he shut his book. "Let's go to my house."

"Eh? R-r-right now?" Ritsu was surprised by the sudden offer, especially since Saga seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Yeah. Do you not want to?" Saga shifted in his chair and almost looked...nervous? No, surely Ritsu's mind must be playing tricks on him. He was probably just projecting.

"No! I mean, yes-I-" Ritsu took a breath. "I would like to go to your house."

Saga stood and picked up his bag, expecting Ritsu to follow as he started to leave. Ritsu did so, scrambling to stand and flinging his own bag over his shoulder, exiting the library with him. Saga couldn't be that upset if he had invited him over, right?

The walk was quiet, which was normal, but Ritsu was overthinking even more than usual. Was Saga disappointed that Ritsu hadn't gotten him anything for Valentine's day? Did he doubt Ritsu's claims about Anchan only being a friend? Did he want to break up and was bringing Ritsu to his house just to spare him the public humiliation? Ritsu was far too wrapped up in his own head to notice that Saga was almost just as nervous as he was.

Although his face never portrayed his emotions, his shoulders were tenser than they'd normally be. Saga usually walked with confidence, always sure that Ritsu was following, but now he glanced back every so often to check that he was still there.

'Of course he's still there.' A voice would scoff at his worries each time, but he couldn't dismiss these new and ugly insecurities. For now he'd simply do his best to ignore them. He was a man on a mission, after all, and he couldn't let them derail him.

"Tadaima." Saga said as Sorata came up to greet the two boys. He leaned down to scratch under his chin before turning back to Ritsu. "Sit on the couch for a second. I'll be right back."

Well, that didn't help Ritsu's nerves at all! They never hung out in the living room, they always went upstairs! Still, he nodded despite becoming a pit of despair. He sat down and waited anxiously as Saga disappeared deeper into the house where Ritsu assumed the kitchen was, Sorata following the older teen to ask for more attention.

'He's going to break up with me. He's going to break up with me and then ask me to leave, that's why we didn't go upstairs. But would it really even be a break up? We're only kind of dating. But obviously it wasn't okay that someone else gave me chocolate, so does that mean Saga considers us a couple? Well, if he did, he probably doesn't anymore and he's going to break up with-!'

"Happy Valentine's day."

Ritsu was brought out of his spiraling thoughts by his Senpai's voice, looking up at him from the couch. Saga was holding out a rose and a container of chocolates for Ritsu.

Ritsu sat there frozen, making Saga shift from one foot to the other. "I didn't bring it to school because I didn't know how'd you feel about a public display of affection. I thought maybe we could go on a date tonight. See a movie or go to dinner or something." Saga started to mumble at the end of his sentence, feeling like a moron. The faintest blush crept up on to his cheeks. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He had already been nervous about giving Ritsu his present and seeing that girl give Ritsu chocolate definitely hadn't helped. It also wasn't helping that Ritsu wasn't saying anything!

Ritsu was too shell shocked to realize his Senpai was becoming distressed. Saga Senpai was giving him gifts on Valentine's day? And wanted to go on a date? Oh God, Ritsu was about to cry. No, no, no, he couldn't cry, that would be the final nail in his coffin if he started crying. Trying to keep his hands from shaking, he accepted the chocolates and rose.

"Sorry, I didn't really know where to get a nice box..." Saga mumbled, referencing the chocolates in tupperware.

Saga Senpai had given Ritsu homemade chocolates for Valentine's day.

Ritsu was dead.

That was the only explanation! Either he was dead and in heaven or he was asleep and dreaming, but subtly pinching himself had no effect, so the only conclusion was he was dead.

"I hope you like them." Saga said, sitting down next to him, nervous about the fact that Ritsu STILL hadn't said anything.

Ritsu's heart was growing fuller and fuller with every passing second...oh no...this feeling...it was overflowing again.

"I love you, Senpai!" He blurted out, unable to contain himself as he carefully set his gifts aside. He then hugged Saga, tearing up.

Saga was flooded with relief. Maybe he'd try his hand at more romantic things if it meant Ritsu would initiate touch. Saga returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Ritsu tightly. "You owe me on White Day." He teased. 'He'd better not give that girl anything for White Day...' He thought to himself, but his thoughts weren't able to travel down that road for long, Ritsu's enthusiastic nodding gaining his attention.

"Of course!" Ritsu smiled brightly, still a little teary-eyed as he pulled away, but Saga didn't let him get too far. "I'll start planning something now." He said with a determined expression that Saga secretly adored. Ritsu would make White Day the best, most romantic, most fun day ever for his Senpai!

'Damn it. He's too cute.' Saga thought, biting back a smirk. "I'll be looking forward to it."

[robbyrobinson]

GODS AWAKEN: CHAPTER 27

The mad emperor dashed at Camila at lightning speed faster than her eyes could perceive. Huge gashes were torn into Camila’s clothes from the razor-sharp teeth of Belos’s suckers. Camila desperately tugged at her attire to withdraw more parchment paper.

“You have gotten heinously slow throughout the years haven’t you, daughter?” Belos snickered.

Ignoring him, the middle-aged mother successfully discards a glyph from her shirt and slams it on Belos’ hideous face. He was propelled further away. Camila, with the parchment still in her hand, held it out defiantly. On the paper was a sketch of waves representing wind.

“Wind spell,” she stated in a matter-of-fact way.

Belos chuckled. “But your mind is as sharp as ever.”

Belos lifted himself off the ground with his abdominal tentacles and reclaimed his staff. He raised it skyward summoning a rumbling quake underneath the ground of the coliseum. The force underneath shifted its motion and erupted out of the ground sending dust and rocks in the air. The beast possessed a huge gaping maw fixated into a permanent scream and beady yellow eyes. It lunged towards the mother in relentless speed.

Camila grabbed another parchment from the spot between her chest and slammed it on the ground to activate it. She hadn’t foreseen any possible method of getting out of the way of the rampaging worm and even if she did, its frame was too colossal. The worm dipped down claiming the mother with its mouth and taking out a large chunk of the ground.

“How unfortunate,” Belos noted.

As he looked at the worm again, he was taken aback. Red flames flickered out of the sides of the worm’s body and burned it from the inside out. Belos flicked his finger uprooting roots from the ground to restrain his daughter. Brown, hickory roots wrapped around her waist and limbs slamming her with savage force. Belos waltzed towards her holding his hands out again. This time, the illusion of an axe was levitating above his head.

With swift motion, Belos clutched the axe and brought it down.

Camila breaks the root wrapped around her waist and rolled over. A swishing sound droned out and before Camila knew it, a small segment of her front hair was sliced away falling to the ground before her. Camila sighed in relief.

The brown-haired girl grimaced and pulled her wrists together breaking the roots between her hands. She ducked again when Belos brought the axe back down.

“Hold still, miscreant, it will only last a second.”

Camila rolled over thrashing her leg out. Her foot hit the handle of the axe and sent it sky high. The axe materialized before the two.

Another parchment paper rolled out this time Camila hit it with her foot. A wall of ice grew from the ground slicing off Belos’s tentacles.

“Gah!”

The Emperor’s weird alien blood dripped from the stumps of the tentacles and corroded the soil. “Not bad; a minor scrape nonetheless.”

New fleshy tentacles sprung from the stumps hissing and writhing towards the human woman. They opened their blood red maws showing off their razor teeth gnashing and clicking like needles. They shot at Camila again this time managing to make a hit on her.

Camila was knocked to the ground again. The papers were scattered all over. The middle-aged mother reached out her hand to grab one, but Belos’s staff stamped down on her exposed palm.

“Ugh!”

Belos laughed to himself again. Like before, his ribs scraped against each other as he laughed and wheezed. Gunk fell out of his mouth as his hold over his staff began to falter. “End of the line.”

Back at the laboratory, Luz and the gang finished up on their stockpiling of glyphs. Luz made a dash down the stairs to marvel at her work. “Do you think that should be enough?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s blow this joint,” Eda noted.

Luz looked around the laboratory again seeing all the boxes containing the enchanted armor. She grimaced still sensing the screaming emanating from the armors’ metal shells.

“Are you okay, kid?” Eda asked.

“Belos had created those suits out of the broken souls of witches; if we’re really doing this, I feel we should give some peace to the poor things.”

Eda scratched her chin. She sighed deeply. “Eh, fine.”

Eda entered her house casually throwing aside any of the unconscious bodies of the guards. There was a crashing sound and a few mini explosions, but the Owl Lady returned holding a few flasks.

“Edalyn, what are those?” Lilith asked concerned “and what is that purple substance inside of it?”

“The seeds of some poppy plant that I got from the swamp; just grind em up and light a match and voila...a magic bomb.”

She passed the flasks – about six in total – and also gave them a stick to grind the seeds into a powdery substance.

“Make sure to completely grind them otherwise the explosion fails.”

They pressed down hard on the seeds and scraped the smaller pieces counterclockwise until they were soft as feathers. “Typically takes about ten seconds to completely pulverize them.”

After the task was over, they poured the powder in a long trail leading towards the entrance. “Oh, so this is like gunpowder,” Luz said.

“Yes, Luz, it’s like ‘gunpowder’.”

Luz took one last look at the laboratory to soak in the knowledge of what she was about to do.

“You still want to do this, Luz?” King asked.

Luz nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Luz took a parchment paper containing the fire glyph placing it on top of the trail of powder. Gently pressing it, a small flame started and completely consumed the paper. As the flame grew larger it quickened its pace eating away at the powder. The trail of powder would ultimately come to an end once it connected with the crates containing the statues. Another trail led towards the portal machine and quickly ignited a large fire.

“We should leave now.”

Luz and the team met up with Amity and her siblings and dashed further down the halls. Large walls of fire licked at the powder seeking more to consume and destroy. The flames rose higher and higher now reaching the stairs.

Belos now had his hand wrapped tightly on Camila’s hair. Tugging it, he lifted his fist. Lightning flickered from his fingers. “It is a shame that you have driven me to this point.”

Camila scowled at him. “Enough with this talk. Do your worst.”

“With pleasure.”

Before he could strike Camila with the full brunt of his electricity, he was caught off guard by a sudden tremor.

“What in the-?”

A cloud of smoke spewed from his palace blasting chunks of debris skyward. The ground shook again at the further destruction. The explosion sent a wavelength leveling half of the palace and bringing the final nail in the coffin towards his laboratory.

Belos dropped to his knees. “This can’t be...how?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Camila beginning to collect herself. He made a grab for his staff, but Camila batted it away.

“This cannot be how this all ends.”

Belos stood up and growled showing his large, inhuman teeth that were sharpened and crooked. His tentacles flailed around in disbelief. “My plan has failed.”

“What plan?” Camila asked “you already failed to execute me like you wanted.”

Belos turned and grit his teeth together. “That was only a small sample of my revenge.”

Camila raised an eyebrow.

“I had served the Isles for fifty years all for one purpose: when my master escaped from his prison, I asked him to destroy your world. But I saw that if I were to have summoned the Outer Gods to the Isles...”

“What that you’d become one?” Camila interrupted.

This elicited a shrill chuckle from the Emperor. “Close, but no cigar: when the gods would arrive from the portal, I would steal their powers and become all-powerful.”

“But what of your master’s plans?”

“I don’t care one lick about Nyarlathotep’s whole goal of destroying the Isles and recreating it in his image. It should be ME and me alone who could bend and mold the Isles to my liking. Once I became a god of my own design, I would turn on my master and kill him.”

“Oh, you mean with this?”

An irregular, bizarrely angled instrument sliced into Emperor Belos’s chest and ripped through his wicked heart. Belos coughed up purple pus which dripped down his chest. Belos wheezed in agony and turned around with bulging eyes. He saw the Black Pharaoh standing behind him holding the other half of the instrument in his hands.

“L-Lord...” Belos coughed again. His lungs were filling with his own blood.

“If you really wanted to kill me, you shouldn’t have shouted your plan out loud.”

“B-But...how...?”

“Don’t act like I did not know your true allegiances. You planned this for a long time ever since I noted that you had your own agency.”

Belos wabbled to his knees. His life was painfully draining out and flooding the ground.

“After all, I switched out the Shining Trapezohedron with a decoy after all.”

Nyarlathotep crossed his arms and looked down at his servant. Belos slipped off the instrument and laid sprawled on the ground. He covered his chest with his hand to placate the internal bleeding. “Please, master, give me another chance.”

“Oh, so now you’re being a loyal servant?” Nyarlathotep said rolling his eyes.

A dark mass descended from the Crawling Chaos’ body and became two dimensional as it slithered on the ground. Belos’s shadow grew larger from the waning sun and seemingly was trying to flee from the mass of Nyarlathotep’s shadow.

The shadow produced long, spindly fingers and grabbed onto Belos’s leg. Emperor Belos’s physical body was tossed on the ground and dragged alongside his shadow’s leg. Belos was pulled closer towards Nyarlathotep’s body.

“No, master please! If you do this, I will lose my personality. The very fabric of my being will cease to be.”

Belos clutched his tentacle appendages on the opposite sides of his body and jammed them tightly in the ground. “I’m sorry...please, please have mercy!”

Nyarlathotep’s shadow was that of a fisherman’s rod. It nudged the shadow’s leg a few times and loosened its grip. About two seconds later, enough time for Belos to relax, Nyarlathotep’s shadow tugged again, tighter this time and pulled Belos further.

“Have mercy!!”

Belos disappeared underneath Nyarlathotep’s garment. And it was then that the Emperor’s rule over the Boiling Isles came to an end for whatever made Belos himself was stripped away from him making him become nothing more but a memory. Camila shivered unsure of what to do or say.

Nyarlathotep smiled wickedly. “Let the game begin.”

[helloprettybb]

at least

I have series ideas and everything but have very little motivation so here’s a super angsty piece. I’m sorry, but thinking about Steve going back for Peggy makes me emotional. Also, this gif doesn’t really make sense, but it fits the sad mood.

warnings: tons of angst, description of death, endgame spoilers if that’s a thing

word count: 1.2k

The compound is destroyed and the formally pristine lawn is unrecognizable. Even though you won the battle, bodies of people that you don’t know still laid on the ground. 

Tony is dead. You watched the life drain from his body as he said his final words to Pepper. Your heart hurts at the loss of a mentor, friend, and father figure.

As much pain as you feel, you don’t summon any tears. Maybe it’s from the shock or relief that you won, but you can’t feel anything and it scares you. Your eyes are locked on Tony’s lifeless ones. All you feel is hollowness like someone carved your heart out. 

You remove your eyes from Tony, you search for some kind of comfort. Scanning the battlefield, you find it in the form of a worn-out soldier. Steve’s eyes, usually bright and brimming with enthusiasm, are solemn and shell-shocked. You don’t have to say anything for Steve to walk over and wrap you in his arms. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Ignoring all the blood and injuries, the two of you stay like that.

At least you have Steve.

- You hang your head solemnly, trying to hold back tears. The funeral is harder than you thought if that was even possible. When the first person started talking, you could feel the tears emerge. You learned some new things and heard old stories about Tony. Some made you laugh while others made you roll your eyes, but all of them amplified the pain in your heart.

Your thoughts begin to spiral and you find your resolve breaking. You think of Pepper being left a widow and you cry your first tear. You try to tell yourself that she’s a strong woman and she can get through this, but then you think of Morgan and you sob quietly. 

The small, precious girl that you’ve grown to love won’t have a father. The only memories she’ll have of Tony will be muddled and faded as she ages. Sure, she’ll have stories from others and the internet, but it won’t be the same. She’ll never know Tony like you did.

You feel a strong, firm hand grab yours. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. You grab Steve’s hand and turn your head towards his body. He doesn’t say anything, opting to caress your knuckles lightly. The speaker’s words fade out as you think about his warm hand in yours.

At least you have Steve. - With the compound destroyed, you didn't have anywhere to stay. Luckily, Pepper was kind enough to offer you a room at their cabin. After the funeral, you locked yourself in your temporary bedroom and cried. After a couple of hours, you felt exhausted from sobbing and instantly fell asleep.

You awoke to drier tear ducts dried out and less puffy eyes. Checking the clock on the nightside, you see that it's past midnight. You leave your room and head to the kitchen. You haven't eaten since the funeral and your grumbling stomach reminds you that it's been nearly thirteen hours. 

You tip-toe down the stairs to try to be courteous to Pepper and Morgan. Once you reach the bottom of the steps, you sneak to the kitchen and immediately head toward the fridge. You're greeted by a bright blue light and an abundant amount of food. Rummaging for whatever you're craving, you hear the light switch turn on.

"I forgot that I wasn't the only person with a sleeping problem." You could recognize that commanding yet playful tone anywhere. Grabbing one last item from the fridge, you close the door and turn toward Steve.

"I'd wager that most of us have a sleeping problem, Rogers," you respond half-jokingly, still finding it hard to cheer up. Steve smiles and you can feel your chest easing slightly.

"I want to tell you something." Steve states. His vagueness simultaneously worries and intrigues you. 

Steve clears his throat and starts, "You've become one of my closest friends. You helped me adjust to the modern world and I could never thank you enough for it." Steve says, you nodding along. 

"That's why I wanted to tell you..." Is Steve going to confess his feelings? "I'm staying with Peggy when I return the stones." Luckily, your years of training taught you how to control your face because otherwise, you would have started crying right then and there. You don't say anything and Steve asks, "Y/n?" "Yeah, sorry, I'm just surprised." Forcing a positive tone, you add, "I'm really happy for you."

Steve smiles and continues, "Thanks."

He starts to get up and you ask, "Have you told anybody else?"

"Just Bucky," he replies and you nod. You know he can sense your sadness, but he probably misinterprets it when he says, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." Steve gives one last quick smile and begins to walk away. 

"Hey," you call a little louder than you should.

Steve stops and asks, "Yes?"

You should confess your feelings. You probably won't see him ever again and he needs to know. " I uh..." you stutter, feeling your chest tighten and hands clench. The words I love you, Steve run through your head as you try to gather your thoughts.

"Just wanted to say, thank you for consoling me during Tony's funeral. I didn't know I would get that emotional," you say instead.

Maybe Steve expected something else because you see a flash of disappointment before he says, "You're welcome. Emotions don't make you weak, y'know?"

You smile a little sadly and respond, "I know, Steve." 

You thought you had Steve. - Bruce is firing up the machine. The pain of being that close to Steve when he leaves forever would be too much to bear, so you opted to watch from across the way. You were still close enough to hear Banner spouting instructions and informing Steve. He reassures Bruce that he'll clip all the branches. You shake your head slightly, if you were in a lighter mood, you might have laughed. Even at such a serious time, Steve can still make a joke or two.

"You know, I tried." Bruce starts, "When I had the gauntlet, the stones. I really tried bringing her back." You knew who he was talking about and it cracked your already broken heart. When you learned that your return, along with everyone's, cost Natasha her life, you didn't know what to feel. There were so many emotions welling up inside that it seemed your mind couldn't decide. You were already fragile from Tony's death, so Natasha's was just the nail in the coffin. Your body never experienced so much grief in such a short time and it chose to shut down. 

"I miss her, man," Bruce adds after a thoughtful pause.

"Me too," Steve responds. Steve steps onto the platform and you watch as the white suit engulfs his navy one.

Before he puts the helmet on, Steve locks eyes with you one last time. He shoots a sad smile and you match it. When the helmet is fully around his head, you turn around before you can watch him disappear forever.

At least she had Steve.

[rotten-white-rose]

Well well, I will introduce the protagonist of this blog.

Name: Melody Gheata

Age: Apparently 19 (she really is millennia old although she is younger than Karl Heinz)

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Birthday: December 29

Zodiac: Capricorn

Nicknames: Mesubuta (by Yuma), Yuki-onna (by Laito), Watermelon (by Ayato), Lilith-san (by Azusa).

Blood type: -A

Status: Dead / Alive

Race: Demon (Succubus) / Vampiress

Height: 1'80 cm

Weight: 60 kg

Eye color: Garnet

Hair Color: White

Body type: Voluptuous

Occupation: 3rd year High School Student, Queen of Hell

Appearance: Melody's style ranges from casual to gothic. What she uses the most are dark colors, such as black, gray, maroon or dark purple. You will never see her in pastel colors or white, since for her, wearing white is wearing a funeral dress. She almost always wears cleavage. Also as an accessory, she wears a special necklace for her that is only removed from her when she goes to sleep, where she leaves safely.

Personality: She is an arrogant and broken woman. She has great pride and always boasts of her benefits. She is flirtatious, she likes to play with fire but she knows the limits and she never gets to the point of burning. Although she flirts more to make the person nervous than to get something. Despite covering herself with an arrogant, frivolous and immature attitude, she hides a woman who wants to be loved just as she is. She always hides her true intentions and feelings.

Hobbies: Studying constellations, reading and playing the piano.

Favorite food: Sarmale (Romanian food)

Relatives:

Father: Lucifer (deceased)

Mother: Rosemary (deceased)

Twin sister: Kuroko (deceased)

Good traits:

Loyal

Charismatic

Compassionate

Kind

Bad traits:

Arrogant

Proud

Immature

Liar

Powers:

Immortality: She cannot die, not even if she wishes it with all her soul.

Self-regeneration: If she receives a fatal wound, she will regenerate, regardless of how long it takes.

Power and custody over two dragons: She ended up ruling hell and with it, by her unwanted power from her, she received the blessing and loyalty of two dragons who rule life and death.

Change in shape or appearance: She can turn into a wolf or change her appearance to hers at a different age.

Clone invocation: She can summon a clone of herself, but said clone is a shell that will only repeat what she wants it to say. Pretty useful if she doesn't feel like doing something.

Story:

In a cold winter, on a night where the moon was bathed in blood, two twins were born who were to be immortal human beings, pure and immaculate beings, all according to the plan devised by Lucifer. However, the older twin was born still alive, with no heartbeat or temperature. A being that was not human, if not a monster corrupted by the demonic and vampiric blood of her progenitors. The younger twin, on the other hand, was born everything as Lucifer had planned, an immortal human. It can be assumed that the monarch of hell was not at all happy with the outcome of it. A plan that ended in disaster, all because of "that thing".

Despite everything, both girls were given love and affection, at least, by her mother, who loved her little and adored Melody with all her soul. From the moment she saw her huge maroon eyes watching her, she fell in love with her tenderness. She was sorry that her husband hated her eldest daughter so much, but she was calm when she saw that she paid attention to her youngest.

"Since Kuroko receives affection from my husband, I will give all my affection to my precious and sweet Melody." Those were her thoughts. However, the demonic blood that ran through the veins of the little one of hers did not take long to blossom, unleashing and corrupting her with only 3 millennia. With an incessant thirst for blood, she slaughtered the army guarding hell and this gave Lucifer the perfect excuse to imprison her. Melody spent 12 millennia imprisoned and tortured. She couldn't die, because her body ended up regenerating even if she didn't want to. She wanted the light, she wanted freedom and wanted with all her soul, her death. But not even that was allowed.

At 15 millennia, she got enough strength to be able to escape from her prison, ending the life of the one who had locked her up and getting the power of hell. Unfortunately, her mother had lost her sanity, due to her guilt and sadness at not being able to rescue her from such an ordeal. Melody fulfilled her mother's request and ended her life in the smoothest possible way. As for Kuroko, the relationship of both sisters was always complex. They hated, envied and at the same time, admired each other. They had a confrontation and the winner was the oldest, although it was not by her own hand. To this day, Melody regrets both the death of her mother and that of her younger sister, she regrets not having been able to do anything. As for her powers, she had become so strong that she ended up gaining the loyalty of the two dragons that today channel her powers. Said dragons were the guardians of life and death: Vitae, the blue-eyed white dragon that hated humans and Mortem, the red-eyed black dragon that, unlike its companion, loved humans.

She decided to stay in hell so she could take over both the kingdom and to investigate her father's writings. She was able to understand the objective that she had set herself to achieve and the reason for those visits with that man who called himself Karl Heinz. That plan ... without a doubt, "that man" had no qualms about using anyone to carry it out. She also found "plan B" and was surprised to see that she was precisely the main target of that plan. She burned the papers after reading them and decided that she would live as a human. It was what she wanted. Freedom and light. She wanted to feel humanity in her own flesh, to feel the warmth and to be able to live among humans. She wouldn't be Lilith… she wouldn't allow herself to be part of a stupid experiment.

Years passed when she had come to the human world and settled in a Transylvanian town. That town was the home of her mother when she was human. Melody achieved a few years of happiness, where she had fallen in love and committed to a human. Just on her wedding day, when she was 17 millennia, she learned secretly that her future husband was only going to marry her to get her fortune and status. She could see that he was with another woman. It was then that she understood that humans were selfish, cruel, capricious, and lying beings. She was carried away by her anger and sadness, letting her emotions speak for her. That is why her snow-white wedding ended up being covered in crimson.

"If my feelings cause this ... if my feelings cause me so much pain ... I don't need a heart!"

She decided to return to hell, where she got a coffin full of white roses. Those flowers were her late mother's favorites and they were her favorites too. She lay down among the roses and decided to sleep for two millennia ... until someone woke her up, for her to continue her reign and receive a visit. Apparently her father's great friend, Karl Heinz, had decided to talk to her about business.

"So, will you accept the proposal, dear?"

“Yes, after all, my life is already boring. Living again between humans and vampires ... fufu, I wonder if your children can really bear it ... I'll make you see that both the plan of "that man" and yours, are not going to bear fruit. Just as my birth was a mistake, the plan to get Lilith and Eve to find two Adam and start a new race… will end in error. "

"We will see if it really is as you say. Until then, I will be a spectator. I hope you don't disappoint me. "

Curiosities:

She has died in every possible way.

She is right-handed.

She has two bodies. The first is the real one, without self-regeneration and the second is the regenerated. Her real body is a decomposing corpse, but due to the self-regeneration that her body unconsciously exerts, she always has a young and immaculate body.

She loves cold temperatures as they make her feel "alive".

She hates and adores winter.

Her fangs are much longer, sharper, and larger than those of an ordinary vampire.

Although she doesn't admit it, she fears loneliness.

She has a great knowledge of the constellations and loves to see the starry sky.

Her hair is extremely long, as she reaches above her ankles.

She is lazy and loves to sleep.

She may feel pain, but she's so used to it that she doesn't notice it anymore.

She tends to woo cute girls, even though she's just kidding.

 When there is a red moon, her powers are increased, while in an eclipse she feels completely weak.

She always wears a necklace that her mother gave her before she died. It consists of a silver cross with five diamond-shaped garnet gems. Behind the cross, there is an inscription in Romanian that says: “You are my light. You are my life. Please live and be happy. " Melody feels extremely attached to that necklace and if it were to break, she would end up devastated, since it is the only memory she has of her mother.

[yandere-society]

You’re all such amazing writers that I might as well just give you all my money, I mean, I would, you guys work so hard to get things out despite having your own schedules and personal life. So thank you! I was wondering if I could request where Jungkook kidnaps the reader, but after a while he becomes so dependent on her that the roles have switched. Like he gets nervous when she’s not showing enough attention on her and is pretty much emotionally fragile to the point of breaking down.

White Elephant

It was an accident. A textbook case of wrong time, wrong place. All YN had done was go to a party like every other person her age. How was she supposed to know that her harmless effort to talk to the loner sulking in the corner would be the first nail in her coffin?

The music was loud and the house was packed, sweaty, sticky bodies all pressed together in a single wasted mass. YN needed a break from the jumping and shouting to a song she cold barely even hear, the girl escaping into the nearly abandoned kitchen. Only two other people were there, some dude downing a bottle of water like his life depended on it and another man shrouded in the shadows, scrolling disinterestedly on his phone.

Water bottle dude leaves as soon as he’s done with his drink, diving back into the swing of the party. And then there were two. For the first few minutes, YN twiddled her thumbs, not quite sure what to do with herself. She felt incredibly awkward, entirely out of her comfort zone. But her mother’s words echo in her head.

“It’s college. Come out of your shell a bit,”

The girl clears her throat.

“So . . . cool part right?”

She cringes as soon as her words register. The hooded man doesn’t react, making YN’s skin flush brightly.

“Ah, that’s a dumb thing to say, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I just . . . um, nevermind,”

YN turns to leave, her hypothetical tail tucked between her legs. But before she can escape, the man speaks up.

“It’s shitty, to be honest,” he says.

YN stills. She hadn’t expected him to speak at all and certainly wouldn’t have guessed that his voice would be so melodic.

“So I’m not the only one who thinks so,” YN says, his words encouraging her to continue the conversation.

“There’s a reason I’m hiding out here,”

The man chuckles then, sweeping his hood off his head and ruffling his hair, smiling at her. For a moment, YN is completely flabbergasted, surprised by his stunning good lucks. His hair is on the long side, dark wispy locks curled at the end and brushing his lashes. His jawline is sharp and pronounced, a small scar on his cheek. He raises his hand, offering it to her.

“Jungkook,”

“Ah, I’m YN,” she says, taking his hand.

It’s warm, almost as hot as her cheeks.

For the rest of the night, the two chat in the kitchen, time flying by rapidly as they laugh and crack jokes, becoming fast friends.

But after the party, their friendship continues to deepen. At first, it’s the girl running into Jungkook every so often around campus. And then he appears in a few of her classes, taking the seat next to her with an innocent smile. And before YN knows it, she sees Jungkook every day. He practically never leaves her side, always coming up with an excuse to extend their time together for just ten more minutes.

And before she knows it, Jungkook has her hand in his, grinning at her, words falling from his lips.

“Marry me,”

“I - what?” YN asks, completely stunned.

It’s just a normal day like any other, the two friends hanging out at the local park, sitting on the swings and pushing themselves forward with the tips of their toes.

“Marry me,” he grasps her hand gently, looking her in the eyes with so much emotion a sick feeling rises up in YN’s stomach.

“You can’t be serious,” YN says, trying in vain to pull her hand away, “We’re not even dating,”

Jungkook tilts his head in the adorable way YN usually loves, but all it does now is send her heart speeding with fear.

“What are you talking about YN - ah? We’ve been dating for six months,”

YN tries harder to pull her hand away.“Jungkook this isn’t funny,”

The two of them haven’t ever gone on a single date, haven’t kissed once, hell they haven’t even known each other for six months!

“What isn’t funny? I’m not joking. Marry me. Please. You can’t say no. You can’t,”

With one more final pull, YN dashes away, ignoring Jungkook’s angered shouts calling her name.

And so she begins to ignore him, trying her hardest to avoid confrontation with the man. The space she has from him starts to shed light on the bizarre traits the man has that she ignored. The way he was always where she was, even if there was no way possible he should have known. The way he always insists they meet in places sparsely occupied by anyone else. The way he seemed to know every little thing about her even if she hadn’t told him.

How had she missed the signs? It’s obvious that something is very wrong with Jungkook, horribly wrong. But in her desperation for attention from somebody - anybody, she had closed a blind eye to every one of his red flags.

But who wouldn’t? Jungkook was gorgeous, incredibly talented, and somehow interested in her of all people.

She’d been the perfect sheep, the ideal victim.

But Jungkook wouldn't make it easy for her. He quickly moved past calling her six hundred times a day to knocking on her door while she hid under her bedsheets, praying for him to go away. YN even tried to get the police involved but they turned her away, stating that she’s just paranoid.

But Jungkook has been pushed to his wit's end. So one night when the hole in his heart has consumed him and left behind only anger and bitterness, he breaks into her apartment, standing over her, watching her sleep.

The man sighs, squatting beside her, brushing his long hair out of his face and running a finger down his beloved’s cheek, nearly shivering in delight.

Has long has it been since he’s touched her? The days and night seem to blur together into a single everlasting moment of suffering and loneliness. And so, selfishly, oh so selfishly, Jungkook slides the gleaming needle into her skin, watching her eyes blow open, covering her lovely mouth with his hand to mute her screams.

She struggles but is no match for Jungkook’s superior strength. Every second she weakens until her eyes once again flutter shut and she falls limp. Kissing her on the cheek, Jungkook hauls YN’s body over his shoulder, waltzing out of her apartment and into the darkness.

And when she wakes to his loving smile, beautiful face propped up on his hands, a ring on her fourth finger, all YN can do is cry. And cry and cry and cry.

And while her tears initially hurt Jungkook, he quickly grew annoyed.

“What is wrong with you?” he snaps after a solid week of YN despairing, “Shut the fuck up!”

His harsh words cause YN to gasp, biting her lip harshly to prevent more sobs from escaping. But her eyes water regardless, making Jungkook feel guilt.

Instantly he apologizes, gathering the handcuffed girl in his arms and cooing at her, smoothing her hair.

“I just love you so much. So so much. It’s driving me insane. Just love me back. That’s all I want. Love me back,”

YN does nothing but sniffle, relaxing in his hold for no reason other than pure exhaustion. Regardless Jungkook is exhilarated, her small moment of ingenuine affection making his heart soar. He doesn’t feel alone when he’s with her. He finally feels something other than pure desperation, total anguish.

But slowly, YN’s feeling of sadness and utter defeat morphs into bitterness and anger, the girl taking every moment to spew out how much she hates Jungkook with a passion. And every time, without fail Jungkook would crumple.

“You’re pretty fucking useless, you know that?” YN asks. Sitting crossed-legged on the large bed as she sucks on a grape popsicle, lips tinged purple, “I asked for strawberry,”

Jungkook’s lip wobbles.

“I - I know. It’s just that the store was out so I thought -”

“Stop thinking, Kookie, it’ll only get you in trouble,”

The man shuts up instantly, sniffing.

“You don’t want me to leave you, do you? I’m sure there are other men who are capable of at least getting me what I asked for,”

She twists the ring on her finger, beginning to slide it off.

“No!” Jungkook shouts, rushing to his feet, “Don’t! Please!”

“Did I say you could get up?” YN asks, cocking her head to the side.

Jungkook falls to his knees instantly, tears glistening in his pretty eyes.

“I’m sorry,”

“Come here,” YN demands, scooting to the edge of the bed.

He does so instantly, placing his head on the girl’s lap, desperate for her touch.

“I love you, you know that? You know how lucky you are? For me to love someone as awful as you?”

Jungkook nods, trembling, hesitantly reaching to grab YN’s hand, sighing when she lets him hold it. He fondles her ring, the cool metal comforting him.

“I know,”

“Good,” she says, kissing his head, “Never forget it,”

And in the end, the beast created a monster much worse than he could have ever imagined.

- 👀

It’s been a while. Enjoy!